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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 8 days ago

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Frustrating | Steve Harrington

✦ pairing — Steve Harrington x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.8k

✦ request — What about slight enemies to lovers with Steve Harrington x reader where they are the designated mom and dad of the group but Steve can hardly stand her even though she’s super sweet. It’s during Christmas and they both are trying to set up a nice dinner for everyone and the kids. And then they kiss in the end 💕

✦ warnings — mentions of food, fluff.

✦ author’s note i — I queued this and thought it had been posted, but turns out I queued it for next year. Sorry for the delay!

✦ author’s note ii — winter themed fics are next and the first one should be out on Saturday.

════════════════════════ You found Steve obnoxious, there was no way around it. He was always too loud, too eager to command attention, and incapable of not making things about himself. For example, when he suggested his house for Christmas dinner because it was bigger,

It was sweet that he wanted to do this, that he took the kids seriously, that giving them a memorable Christmas was so important to him.

Even so, you weren't sure you would pull it off.

The kitchen —his kitchen— was a mess of flour, bowls, spoons, and the thawing turkey you didn’t want to think about.

Okay, no, you needed to think about it. Forgetting to thaw the turkey was one thing, but being such a bad cook and not following instructions properly? That bordered on sinful.

And he found it oh so funny, cheeks flushed and white teeth bare for everyone, in this case just you, to see.

You had to stand close to him as you called your house, hoping your mom would give you good news regarding the still-frozen turkey. He lowered the volume of the Christmas music he insisted needed to be playing throughout the day, and leaned against the counter, looking at you.

For a moment you wondered if he’d finally follow your instructions, if perhaps he was looking at you expecting some kind of guidance. Such a notion left your mind as soon as it arrived when he reached over and sprinkled flour on top of your hair.

As you hung up the phone, you sighed deeply and glared at him. “Why don’t you finish with the decorations, hm?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“No, not at all, but the decorations are halfway done,” you said, trying not to grit your teeth, “and everyone will be here sooner than we need them to be.”

His eyes were barely slits as you finished your explanation, but then, miraculously, he shrugged. “Won’t take long!” he announced as he left the kitchen.

You let out a relieved breath and put yourself to work, cleaning up the mess so you would have a blank slate. In no time, you had made the big kitchen your own, setting the timer for 30 minutes so you could change the cold water on the turkey while measuring flour for the cookies.

Steve turned the music up as you mixed the cookie dough, but you didn’t have it in you to complain. It was his house.

Now, Steve couldn’t stand you himself. Eternally sweet and kind, seemingly so innocent, always the favorite of the kids even though he was the one who drove them around, the one who gave them advice. But no, you, with your cooking, and your smile, and your stupid sense of self-preservation, were the favorite.

He puffed air through his mouth, trying to get a strand of hair off his forehead as he gauged the order he would hang the stockings in.

There was almost no sound apart from the music and the occasional sound of a bowl hitting the sink or the pouring of liquid as you changed the water to thaw the turkey.

As he finished decorating, he stood in the middle of the living room, admiring his work. His house had never looked so inviting, so warm.

Silently, he approached the kitchen.

You were washing a whisk and he watched as you meticulously dried it, wire by wire. Once seemingly happy, you grabbed a bowl against your body and started whisking something.

Every few seconds, you changed the direction in which you whisked, checking the mixture by lifting the whisk and inspecting it. Unlike his, your hair remained away from your face, letting him see every detail of your expression.

You set the bowl down, dropped the whisk onto the sink, and washed your hands. Once you turned around, wiping your palms on your red apron, you became aware of his presence.

Steve stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Should I leave the tree for the kids?”

You considered the question. “Maybe just set up the lights and we’ll let them arrange the ornaments?”

He nodded at your suggestion but made no move to leave. You looked away. You heard him sigh, and he lingered, but he eventually went back to the living room.

When the turkey was finally in the oven, you stuck your head out of the kitchen, wondering what he was doing.

Steve was sitting on the living room floor, using the coffee table as a gift-wrapping station. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he folded the paper.

As to not startle him, you cleared your throat. “I told you I could do it.”

“You kicked me out of my kitchen,” he defended himself, as if you had it out for him, “I needed to do something!”

You picked up a gift, wrapped in blue paper with Santa Claus images. You didn’t find anything wrong as you turned the gift in your hold to inspect. “Wow.”

“Give me some credit, will you?”

Perhaps for the first time that evening, you truly looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, hair disheveled which was so unlike him you stared for a little too long. “You, uh, you did a good job with these.”

He blinked up at you. The bitterness from his voice was gone as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

You scurried off back to the kitchen, busying yourself with mashed potatoes. As you heated the milk and cream, you decided that Steve was frustrating on top of his obnoxiousness.

No matter how much you tried to be cordial with him, he always glared at you and made stupid comments about how he should be everyone's favorite. Something he already was.

Opening cupboards, you searched for something to serve appetizers on. You found trinkets you'd never seen before, enough molds to fill up a small house, and three different incomplete collections of knives, but never a serving platter.

You hesitated for a moment. Then, in a few steps, you stood at the doorway and called out, “Steve?”

He whirled around, a silver bow in hand.

“Where are the serving platters?”

“Uhmm.” He scratched the back of his head with his bow-less hand. “I dunno.”

“Well,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I'll find something.”

Steve only stared at you, and didn't even attempt to say something.

You tried your best not to scowl at him and went back to searching

You didn't understand what you did to him. He was the only person from the group who disliked you this much — he was also the one you spent most time with. Because of the kids.

And because of the kids, you put that aside as soon as they arrived. They immediately invaded the kitchen, demanding snacks and looking around at everything you had cooked.

You might have become the actual favorite the moment you pulled out cookies to decorate. However, the inevitable happened and they invited Steve to take part.

He was bad at it. Disastrously bad. And the kids loved it. They laughed at him and with him as he decorated cookies with 5-year-old-like skills.

Steve smiled triumphantly when you announced the icing needed to dry up and the kids groaned. Ever the savior, he suggested they should finish putting up the tree with him.

Dustin was the first to follow, as expected, but none of them showed any resistance.

You wasted time decorating a few cookies and cleaning. Steve and you had agreed that homemade appetizers would be unnecessary, so now you were just waiting for the turkey to be done.

With a soft sigh, you started setting up the table. As you arranged the plates, you felt eyes on you, but nobody offered to help you. Not that you expected them to do so. They were having the time of their lives decorating the tree and yelling at each other not to ruin their hard work.

As you glanced at the clock, you wondered if anybody else would show up. You had a feeling they wouldn’t.

You waited almost an hour, and sure enough, your feeling was right. No one even called to apologize. Steve didn’t seem bothered by it.

Setting the carving board next to the turkey, you attempted to transfer it. You almost splashed yourself in turkey juices and fat from the butter.

“Steve?” you called out.

“What is it?”

You groaned. Couldn’t he have the decency to enter the kitchen to acknowledge you? “Come.”

His groan was louder than yours, as if he was making a spectacle of his annoyance.

His attitude changed as he approached you and realized what was going on. “Let me,” he said quietly.

You nodded and stepped to the side. “Do you want to carve it on the table, or…?”

“Yeah.” He transferred the turkey onto the board with ease. Maybe he had done this before.

“I’ll get started with the gravy, then. Won’t take too long.”

He nodded. “I’ll make ‘em wash their hands.”

“Please.”

Steve instructed the kids to wash their hands. For once, they didn’t complain and made a line at the bathroom sink.

You served them their sides in the order they sat at the table, and Steve carved the turkey and drizzled the gravy on top.

Once everyone was sitting at the table, you started to consider Steve and you hadn’t done a bad job. From your seat, you had a perfect view of the decorations in the living room and the colorful tree next to the fireplace.

Moving to the living room, you sat near the window. Fog danced around the lights outside, pushed by the wind.

The kids suggested a few games and Steve and you shared a look but nonetheless agreed. First, you played a game that Dustin won, and Max demanded a rematch that she still lost.

A beat passed, and then Dustin, who couldn’t help himself, blurted, “Can we open our gifts?”

“No,” Steve and you said at the same time.

Then, you added,” Your parents wouldn’t like it if we let you do that.”

Steve nodded in jerky movements. “And speaking about your parents… it’s getting late.”

“It’s not!” they stubbornly insisted.

“We still have to clean up,” Steve explained, “and I gotta drive her home later.”

You tried to hide your surprise. He would drive you home? Since when did he care enough to bother?

“Now pick up your gifts and jackets, and get in the car.”

You laughed upon hearing the kids complain. Steve had a point, it was, in fact, getting late for the kids to be out, and the night would only grow colder.

You packed their cookies in sandwich bags and handed them to them as they exited the house, wishing them a Merry Christmas.

It took them a lot of effort to point out it wasn’t Christmas yet and to mention they would see you the next day. You appreciated that they didn’t shatter the illusion.

While Steve drove them home, you transferred leftovers to containers and washed dishes. It felt strange now that you were all alone, in a home that wasn’t your own, cleaning the kitchen of someone who disliked you.

At least you had managed to work together for the day. You would count it as progress if you didn’t know he only did it for the kids. But that was still something.

On Steve’s part, he was dreading putting the decorations away and pretending nothing had happened. All his hard work, and the kids’, would only be immortalized in the few photographs he got to take. He wasn’t even a good photographer.

Once he was back, he removed his jacket and dropped his keys with a sigh. The kitchen island was full of lukewarm food and you were at the sink, scrubbing a pot.

“Need help?” he offered.

“Nah. Almost done.”

He stood beside you, watching as you took care of the pot his mom barely used like it was your own. As he lifted his gaze to the backsplash, he realized you had cleaned it up too.

“Just have to scrub the stove. It won’t take long,” you assured him, rinsing the pot.

Steve absentmindedly dried the pot while you disassembled the stovetop. He had never seen anyone do that. He logically knew stoves had to be disassembled and cleaned, yes, but he had never cared enough about it to go out of his way to watch someone do it.

He put the pot away in its place and focused on your face as you treated the stovetop with even more care than the pot.

For a moment, he just watched you, until he saw the grates on the sink. Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing them.

“You’ll ruin your sweater.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Steve, it’s okay, I can do it.”

“I can do it too.”

You sighed. “If it gets too much, just—” “It’s just two grates.”

That shut you up.

Both of you worked in silence until the kitchen was spotless. Turning the light off, he rested his hand on your upper back to guide you back into the living room.

You stood at the threshold in silence, admiring the decorations once more—the inviting lights, the fun colors, the sweet faces in the ceramic figurines—but you were sad that they would all soon be thrown into boxes.

“You did good today,” you admitted. “They loved it.”

“So did you.” His hand remained on your back as he angled his body to face you. “I thought we wouldn’t pull it off.”

You looked up at him and nodded. “So did I.”

He huffed a laugh. It wasn’t much, but his eyes sparkled with something. He looked so approachable and you found yourself wishing he was always like this with you, that he would let you see the person the kids adored.

“Steve, I…”

He rested his free hand on the side of your face, thumb grazing your cheek. “It’s okay.”

“No.” You shook your head for emphasis, and in consequence, nuzzled against his hand. Purely by mistake. “I’m sorry for kicking you out of your kitchen.”

This time he laughed, warmly. He readjusted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb resting on your lips. “Shhh.”

Tracing your bottom lip, Steve said, “Sorry for being a dick.”

“It’s your house.” Your voice was barely audible. You didn’t remember ever feeling shy, much less nervous around Steve. Yet here you were.

He tapped your bottom lip. “I meant in general.”

What were you supposed to say? That he had his reasons? That you didn’t mind? That you were too distracted by his closeness, and perhaps too comfortable, to care?

The lights from the tree, only a couple of feet from you, cast a gentle glow, making the room seem and feel warmer than it was. You entertained the idea that you wouldn’t even be cold outside with Steve so close.

“So?” he pressed gently, “is my apology accepted?”

You nodded, eyes once again on his. The shininess of his hear caught the reflection of the colorful Christmas lights as he moved, shoulders shaking with a soft laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you found yourself asking in a teasing manner, lips grazing his thumb as you spoke.

“You’re really pretty.”

“The exhaustion of the day must be getting to you,” you said. And despite that, you felt your cheeks warming up.

Steve brought his other hand up and cradled your face, each hand cupping your cheeks. “I’m being serious.”

“Oh, so this is the part where you say you were being a dick because you like me?”

His answer took you both by surprise, “I don’t know.”

“Steve…”

“I know,” he assured you. “But… maybe…” He let out a sigh. His eyes landed on your lips as he gathered his words. “Can I? Just once?”

You nodded, but he didn’t move until you said, “Yes.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in. Steve lowered a hand to your shoulder, still cupping your cheek in his other palm.

His lips were a little chapped and his kiss tentative. As the newness wore off, the kiss deepened yet remained sweet, gentle despite its firmness. There was no rush to escalate things, nor to part.

As you both eventually needed air and slowly pulled away, Steve’s hands lingered on you and just then you realized you were grasping his waist.

He smiled, and so did you.

“How about ice cream tomorrow?” His eyes twinkled with hope, overshadowing the glittery ornaments on the tree.

“Sounds good.”

He dared to peck your lips before adding, “We should probably put all the ornaments away. My mom would hate the colored Christmas lights.”

Despite how sad you found that fact, you nodded and kept it to yourself. “Did you keep the original boxes?”

The sheepish smile he gave you was the only answer you needed. Maybe he wasn’t that obnoxious, but he was definitely frustrating. And you liked that about him.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #ywnmtfa's ficmas 2024 #ficmas 2024

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goodlucktai · 7 months ago

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too well tangled

rise of the tmnt post-movie / canon divergent word count: 1k characters: disaster twins

this was my bonus piece for the digital @turtlestogetherzine !

title borrowed from atticus—“you will never be unloved by me / you are too well tangled in my soul”

read on ao3

So it turns out that sixteen minutes in the prison dimension is about six months outside it. Give or take.

Donnie calls it a temporal differential. Leo’s third day back was spent being gently interrogated within an inch of his life. For every answer he gave, Donnie’s face got a little darker.

He seems a lot older than the last time Leo saw him. Everyone does. They all look at Leo like he’ll disappear into thin air if they blink too many times.

He expects it to wear off eventually. He’s only confined to the infirmary for a week and a half, and on bedrest for a week after that, but even a month later Raph and Mikey continue to stick to him like glue.

“I’m okay,” Leo tells them, when his bad leg seizes up and he staggers on his way to the breakfast table and Mikey’s face crumples horribly. Raph just huffs and lifts Leo clean off his feet to carry him the rest of the way. Swallowing past the uncertain lump in his throat, Leo adds playfully, “I mean, I’m not one to complain about the all-star treatment, but—”

“Good,” Raph rumbles, “then don’t.”

“Sorry if we’re being annoying,” Mikey says with a brightness in his tone that doesn’t sit quite right. He’s said that like fifty times since Leo came back. “We just—we missed you, Lee.”

And what is Leo supposed to say to that?

“Annoying? Please,” he scoffs. “I’m the king of everything obnoxious. You couldn’t annoy me if you tried.”

When Raph lowers him into a seat, Leo lifts his arm in invitation for Mikey to scoot his chair up right next to his, and then wraps him up in a tight hug. Mikey slots into his side like he belongs there, and he does, he always will, but it’s just a bit different than Leo remembers.

Mikey is still his little brother. But only by a few months now. Leo’s seventeenth birthday came and went without him.

And a part of him—this nameless little part that lives in the back of his mind, that’s lived there ever since dad made him team leader and ripped the rug out from under his feet—thinks that’s why Donnie doesn’t know how to be around him anymore.

He’s a constant presence. He’s a solid pillar for Leo to lean against when his legs don’t want to hold him up. But they don’t know what to say to each other. That unspoken understanding, that twin thing—it’s gone.

Or so Leo thinks.

Big Mama is more of a weird estranged relative than a mortal enemy these days, but she’s an entrepreneur first, eccentric wine aunt second. When she gets a big business idea, all bets are off. Leo can kind of respect that. It’s really thrilling and a little fun trying to match wits with a criminal mastermind, like high-stakes 5D chess.

But her invitations could use some work. Sending a bunch of burly yokai in Grand Nexus uniforms to intercept the turtles on their way to Run of the Mill for dinner is a scheme that could have used a bit more time on the workshop table.

Immediately Leo’s brothers close ranks around him. He’s allowed to run around in his leg brace at this point, but he has, in no uncertain terms, NOT been cleared to fight. He can tell from the set of Raph and Mikey’s shoulders that they’re beyond ticked off, but he can’t read Donnie’s posture at all.

It’s bad timing, but suddenly Leo is preoccupied with those dark little thoughts he’s been having recently. Maybe Donnie isn’t happy to have him around. It’s been a lot of extra work, right? Dealing with the prodigal brother’s physical therapy and night terrors aside, now Donnie can’t even pick up some pizza without having to play bodyguard.

So Leo is distracted—sue him. He’s got a lot going on. When an owl guard grabs him by the arm, he’s not ready for it. The yank backwards causes him to stumble, bad knee bending underneath him.

The guard seems to loom over him for a moment. The evening gloom of the alleyway and the lurid glow of a nearby neon sign makes Leo’s brain sprint right back to the prison dimension. A distressed chirp works its way out of him before he can fully reorient himself. Add that to his ever-growing list of Good Reasons To Fake His Own Death.

Big Mama’s goon looks surprised by the sound, grip relenting on Leo’s arm immediately. He wouldn’t do that if he were here for villainous reasons. So Big Mama probably actually considers kidnapping via sudden ambush to be a halfway decent method of picking her nemeses-slash-nephews up for an evening visit.

Leo only has a second to think, Okay, I can work with this, turning up the charm and pretending like he can’t still feel the aftershocks of panic, before he’s being yanked again.

This time he’s pulled right in against Donnie’s side, a strong arm around his carapace. There’s a burst of light and warmth—bright purple and overheated electronics, he’d know his brother’s ninpo anywhere—and they’re surrounded by a gleaming, glowing arsenal.

The owl guard didn’t have a chance in hell. Donnie still doesn’t really look at Leo, not once as Mikey and Raph rush over, not even on the empty-handed trek back home.

But he sits next to Leo on the couch while Mikey enlists Raph and papa’s help with dinner since their pizza run failed. The bickering and Mikey’s cooking playlist create a familiar, comfortable backdrop where it swells out of the kitchen. Donnie’s shoulder knocks against Leo’s. It feels like how it used to.

Before he can lose courage, Leo blurts, “The thing I miss most from before is being twins with you.”

As soon as he says it, he wants to take it back. This is more mortifying than all of those initial grueling physical therapy sessions combined.

He’s scrambling for an escape route that isn’t just hobbling away as fast as he can, or portaling to the bottom of the ocean, when Donnie suddenly says, “Draxum said we hatched together. We’ve been together all our lives. You’re pulling our twin card just because I'm finally taller than you?”

Leo sputters. “By an inch!”

Donnie raises an eyebrow at him, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for Leo to catch up. Maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time.

Eyes stinging, Leo slouches into Donnie’s side. The softshell matches him, his cheek coming to rest on the top of Leo’s head. It reminds Leo of hugging Mikey earlier that morning at the breakfast table.

Leo still fits here. There’s a good chance he always will.

“Guess this finally makes me the older twin, huh, Nardo?”

It surprises Leo into laughter, maybe the first big loud laugh to come tripping out of him since well before the invasion. Conversation in the kitchen grinds to a halt and Mikey and Raph come barreling out a second later all covered in flour, eager to catch him in the act, to get in on it.

“Sorry, Tello,” Leo says, grinning, not very sorry at all. “Not in this lifetime.”

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #hamato leonardo #hamato donatello #disaster twins #my writing #tmnt fic #turtlestogetherzine #the only older twin leo fic i will ever write

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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wilted | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which you've contracted hanahaki despite being in a relationship, and it makes you question everything. PAIRING. kim mingyu x gn!reader (ft. jeonghan) GENRE. angst, established relationship, hanahaki au WARNINGS. descriptions of illness (hanahaki disease), mentions of coughing and blood, mention of death, cursing, terms of endearment, miscommunication or honestly lack of communication, depictions of an argument, gyu is a little bit of an ass in this and i'm very sorry about that but it's for the plot, description of hospitals and surgery, unrequited love WORD COUNT. 6.1k

hanahaki disease ( 花吐き病 ) 𑁋 a disease in which the infected coughs up flowers due to unrequited love.

notes: this entire story was inspired from this post which i hoped i was able to stick to :)

A shift has never been this relaxing before.

Normally, you're used to the hectic hustle of weary students aiming to acquire their morning coffees before running to class and impatient corporate workers racing against the clock in the bustling jungle of the city. But today, the scene was drastically different.

The clear blue skies outside were barren of any existence of clouds, the sun rays pouring in through the café windows like warm honey and casting ornate patterns of light and shadow on the rustic wooden tables that filled the vast space. In the midst of this fresh and sunny afternoon, you find yourself standing idly behind the counter, fingers rhythmically tapping on your phone as you shoot a text message to your boyfriend.

[ 04:39pm | y/n ] gyu ! should i bring home something for us to eat tonight? been craving that gimbap from a while ago 💕

The message sends before your attention would be halted by the chime of the doors opening.

You've worked as a barista in this café for the past year while searching (or struggling, to be honest) to get a job in the field you sought for. It's easy to give yourself credit when it comes to plastering on the brightest smile on your face every time the bell above the doors would ring. You can be having the worst day of your life, yet you've mastered the skill of hiding your worries beneath that obnoxious apron and sage green logo-emblazoned hat sat on your head.

It's a bit different this time when the customer who walks in is someone you're beginning to consider a regular at your café.

"Ah, Mr. Yoon," You greet him with a shake of your head and a wide grin. "The usual today, I'm presuming?"

"That is, if you can stop putting down 'Mr. Yoon' on my cup than my first name," he responds teasingly, and it makes you lightly chuckle as you lower your gaze to start tapping in his order on the screen.

Mr. Yoon, as he preferred to be called initially as a running gag, had become a latest fixture in the café, like a light-hearted charm that captures the attention of both you and your co-workers. It's rare to see people like him walk in. His visits were characterised not just by his liking for the café's signature caramel macchiato, but also by the easy banter and warm camaraderie he shared each time he visited that makes your busy shifts a little more bearable.

"Okay, Jeonghan," You reply playfully, reading out his order even though you know it's correct. "One caramel macchiato with a pinch of wit, coming right up."

He lets out a chuckle as he hands you his card with a wink. "You're the best, you know that?"

You flash him one last smile before facing your back towards him to prepare his order. "Flattery will get you anywhere, Mr. Yoon."

You take your time in creating his order, looking up briefly to notice he had sat himself down at one of the tables in the corner of the café. You carefully pour the steamed milk over the espresso and caramel, and when you finish, you place the perfectly crafted caramel macchiato on a tray and carry it over to Jeonghan's table.

"Here you go, Mr. Yoon," You say with a smile, bringing the tray down and placing the cup in front of him. "One caramel macchiato, just the way you like it."

Jeonghan takes a moment to properly observe it, as if examining the crevices of each layer in the cup, before leaning back in chis hair and crossing his arms together. He lets out a relaxing sigh.

"Congratulations, you've earned yourself a perfect score this time." He turns the cup just slightly to show off that you've indeed put the order down under his first name.

You roll your eyes. "Well, I'm glad to have gotten it right."

"It's about time, don't you think?" Jeonghan queries, before taking a sip of the drink, eliciting a satisfied hum. "Mmh, but it was definitely worth the wait. Thank you, Y/N."

You grab the empty tray back in your hands. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Jeonghan just shoots you one last playful smirk in your direction before you turn away to head back around the counter, pushing yourself through your next set of customers.

However, as time continues to pass so torturously slow, an unusual sensation begins to creep into the core of your chest.

It's like a subtle tickle, a slight tightness to your trachea that you merely dismiss just as fatigue from the dry air as you strap the lid on the order of a cup you're preparing. You take a moment to rub your chest absently, hoping the discomfort will pass, but it lingers.

Yet once you set the order down on the customer's table and dismiss yourself back behind the counter, you let out a small, involuntary cough into the palm of your hand. It's nothing, you tell yourself. You're probably just coming down with a minor cold.

But then, you see it𑁋a very small delicate, pale pink petal resting on your hand where you had covered your mouth, and that's when you feel your heart drop down to your feet.

This can't be happening, You think frantically. Not now. Not like this. You glance around nervously, hoping no one else was watching or waiting for you at the front. The café is still bustling with customers, and the regular chatter continues, completely oblivious to your growing panic.

As you stare at the petal, it begins to crumble, disintegrating into tiny flecks that drift away like dust in the wind down to the floor below. The feeling in your chest, however, remains, and it intensifies. It's like a weight, an ache that refuses to dissipate, and sets the adrenaline to your limbs as you dash towards the employee's only restroom, locking the door behind you.

You place your hands on either side of the sink, the coughs leaving your mouth now bouncing off the walls of the restroom. The coughs wrack your body. Each one doesn't bloom out a petal, but as you release one last cough, you watch as another petal slowly floats down in the sink below your gaze.

Then you look at your reflection in the mirror, and it reveals nothing out of the ordinary. No flowers sprouting from your mouth or bloodstained petals; it was purely only just... fresh petals.

Your mind runs circles. It physically hurts to even think, like twist and turns on an abandoned dirt road. If what you're suffering from is really what you think it is, then your thoughts dash back to him. To Mingyu, whom you've been with for the past two years, and the thought of him makes your heart race. Thinking about him helps just slightly, but not entirely, yet... what is causing this?

You're still in love with Mingyu𑁋you know you are.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to collect your thoughts and the pain wracking your chest. This can't be happening. It's impossible that you'd suddenly develop Hanahaki for someone else.

You quickly take out your phone from your back pocket, punching in your passcode and sliding to your text messages. Your fingers instinctively land on Mingyu's text thread, punching in words in a panic for some help. But when your eyes trail to the last message you sent to him, you notice that it was simply left on... seen.

That's when another cough racks your body, and you can't help but watch in horror as more petals, delicate and pink, fall into the sink, before wilting and crumbling down the drain. It felt like they were mocking you in shame.

Hanahaki disease. An illness described to be acquired from unrequited love.

The doctor explained the options to you: surgery to remove the flowers with the risk of losing your feelings for the person you love, medication to suppress the symptoms with the risk of some side effects, or the most common method𑁋reciprocated love. If the person you love returns your feelings, the disease will fade away on its own. However, if those feelings remain unrequited, the flowers will continue to grow, ultimately suffocating you.

And you would die.

Because that's exactly the kind of news you wanted to torment your life with. It's like a fucking parasite, a cruel insidious joke taking root in your chest. A fucking plant is growing in your fucking chest. Hanahaki disease was rare, but it had chosen you, and it had chosen to do so at the most inconvenient time.

You've heard the stories of the disease from the countless articles you searched on your phone the moment you got back into your car. You've also heard these stories growing up like an urban legend, even in its rarity, at some point becoming deathly afraid of it when you were younger, yet your own family had reassured you that no other person even down to your ancestors had ever been affected with the disease.

You're the first person. How fucking lucky are you.

You were lucky enough to catch it in its early stages, explaining to the doctor that you had never once had any other signs show other than today.

"It doesn't mean you have a lot of time to pick a treatment option," the doctor had said to you as you blankly listened. "I recommend getting it treated as soon as possible, no matter how early it may be, because waiting it out could be detrimental to your state. I'm going to prescribe you some medication to help reduce your symptoms. You can pick up at the pharmacy after this."

But you just... don't understand. None of this has been making sense in your head; it's just been buzzing painfully with confusion, and if anything, making you feel even worser than the actual disease plaguing your body itself. You've always been faithful to Mingyu; you've never harboured romantic feelings for anyone else other than him. You tell him that you love him, and he tells you that he loves you too.

Yet here you are, coughing up petals that seem to defy logic and the rules of this damn disease, trying to think of someone, anyone, who may have slipped past a crack in your heart somewhere.

But it all draws a blank, yet it's the only thing in mind that can be causing all this.

The doctor's words echo in your mind. Surgery came with the risk of losing your feelings for Mingyu, something that you couldn't bear to imagine. Medication can help suppress the symptoms temporarily, but it wouldn't cure the underlying cause. That left you with the most daunting option𑁋reciprocated love.

But how could you possibly explain this to Mingyu? How could you tell him that you were coughing up petals because of some inexplicable turmoil in your heart that had nothing to do with him?

You can't do this. Not right now. God, you need sleep.

"Gyu?" You call out, your voice echoing within the quietness of your shared apartment.

Stepping into your apartment, you're initially met with silence, but it wasn't until you hear a door shut that awakens your senses, and you see Mingyu stepping out of your shared bedroom. For a few moments, you let your eyes trail over him, seemingly dressed up like he was going to an outing, and you feel your lips twitch unconsciously.

"Babe?" You call out again, a bit louder this time, and it catches Mingyu's attention.

A faint smile crosses his face as he makes his way toward you, and for a second you can feel something catch in your throat once you can feel his warmth touch your skin.

"Hey," he greets you calmly, pushing away a strand of hair behind your ear. "How was work?"

"It was..." Tell him, Your mind urges. Tell him right now. "...fine. Nothing much today."

"That's good," he responds, locking the watch on his wrist in place.

"Are you going somewhere?" You ask him quickly, shifting your eyes up and down and over his form.

Mingyu's expression changes slightly, becoming almost tense, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before it changes back to that lazy smile he had on before. You swear that if you weren't so hyperfocused with every fibre of your being pulling you back, you wouldn't have noticed.

"Just some dinner with the guys. Haven't seen them in a while," he responds coolly, brushing past you for a moment to grab the keys hanging next to the door. "Do you want me to bring you something back?"

You watch Mingyu's every move, the unease and some discomfort from the disease in your chest growing by the unbearable minute, even with the increasing tension in the room that's absolutely suffocating you at the same time. This isn't the time to let your guard down, but you're torn between the fear of losing him and the need to protect him from this awful reality.

But... he's going out? And he didn't tell you? Nor even bother responding to the text you sent him earlier? He was probably just busy, You think. Like he always is.

"No, it's alright." You take a chance and step up to him, planting a brief kiss to his cheek. You feel a little bit better doing that. "I'll just heat up something from the fridge. Have a good time with your friends, okay? I love you."

Mingyu smiles softly at your gesture, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. And you swear you notice a distant look in his gaze, or maybe you were just imagining things and it's just another symptom of this stupid disease and your fervent overthinking. The dimness of your apartment didn't help either𑁋his eyes just looked drained of any colour. Maybe he was just tired.

"Thanks, Y/N." He offers one last smile, but there's something lacking in his tone that you can't quite place, and it's anything but comforting you at the moment. "Love you too."

Your heart quickens just a bit at that, the corners of your lips edging up just slightly as you watch him. He grabs his jacket and heads for the door, and you're left behind in nothing but the silence of your place.

And all at once, you feel all the discomfort you were trying to hide finally spill out from your lips, coughs leaving your mouth like a downpour, each one a bit more painful than the last. You double over with one of your arms wrapped around you and the other clutching at your chest as if trying to physically grasp the pain and pull it out of you.

"Shit, dammit," You murmur weakly, bringing your hand down from your mouth to see a few petals fluttering to the floor, feeling the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

You bring yourself back up, opening up your bag and taking out the medication you picked up from the pharmacy earlier. Trailing down to the bathroom, the medication bottle rattles loudly in your shaky hand as you fumble to open the cap. The pills inside are small and white, and the label on the bottle provides instructions for dosage. With shaking fingers, you fish out one pill and place it on your palm.

Then you take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves, and then swallow it down with a gulp of water from the bathroom sink.

You hope that it will provide some relief, even if it's just temporary.

You don't know what time Mingyu comes home that night. You heard him come in, but don't have the energy to properly acknowledge him. So you stay low to your sheets, feeling some residual discomfort crawl back into your throat when you hear him open the bedroom door.

You wish he can hold you𑁋it's all you want right now. His comfort, his large arms wrapping around you like how he used to do so before, how he would kiss the top of your head and your shoulder before holding you close in his embrace, the way it felt so right and safe being in his hold because you know it's enough to make all your worries disappear in an instant.

But he doesn't, only sliding into the empty space next to you, and you're afraid that if he does it just might make you feel even worse. You barely feel his warmth on you. Yet you miss him; you miss everything about him. And you still love him. You always have.

You always will.

...right?

It's not right to tell him right now.

You certainly wouldn't like it if someone was staring at you, but you can't help it, not when Mingyu is the only other thing in the room you could possibly look at.

It's been more than a week since you found out you have Hanahaki. Each day you would wake up in an absolute coughing fit, the petals coming in more frequent amounts than before. The medication has helped to lessen the symptoms, yet the side effects are taking a toll on your body. You're constantly fatigued, and your appetite has declined just slightly. You feel like a prisoner in your own body, all because something beautiful and deadly is growing within you.

Mingyu still doesn't know about it. And deep down, you can't shake the feeling that something is... different.

He used to be so attentive with you. Now, he often seems preoccupied, lost in his own thoughts. He no longer surprises you with sweet gestures or random acts of affection, and the warm, lingering kisses that he would leave to your lips have turned into quick pecks on the cheek, or simply, just nothing at all. You hardly wake up with him right next to you because of his work, and the shared laughter and late night conversations have nearly ceased to exist.

You remember the days when Mingyu used to look at you with such warmth, love, and adoration, but the spark that used to light up his eyes has dimmed. You barely feel it anymore. His replies to your questions asking about his day are kept brief. You would excuse it as him simply being exhausted, but there's a persistent feeling in your chest, and it's not just from your illness.

"Gyu?" You call out for him meekly from the kitchen, watching as he doesn't peel his eyes away from his laptop screen, only lifting a brow up slightly. "Are you busy later?"

"Yeah, I am. I got invited to a company dinner later this evening."

There's a visible downturn to your lips at his words, but he doesn't see it𑁋doesn't bother to see it, anyway.

"Oh." You feel it crawling up your throat again. "Okay. How about tomorrow?"

Mingyu finally looks away from his laptop, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he sighs. "Tomorrow's not good either. I have a meeting with a client, and it might go late."

"Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You suggest, some desperation creeping into your voice.

Mingyu seems to hesitate for a moment, and you hold your breath, hoping for a glimmer of hope, something. But then he shakes his head. "I can't promise anything, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'll be sure to make up to you, okay?"

That's what you always say.

Will you ever make time for me again someday?

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. The realisation stings, more painful than the illness taking form in your lungs.

"Okay," You mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. It's okay. I love you."

A brief, long, pause. "Love you too."

But it's okay, because you still love me.

Then you find yourself swiftly retreating into your bathroom, heart heavy as you grab a tissue and let out a few coughs into the tissue. More petals fall from your mouth, before you crumple the tissue and toss it into the bin next to the sink, then splash some water on your face to hide the tears that threaten to escape.

You don't know what to do.

You can't even bother to see how much pills you have left because you feel like you're taking ten of them every damn day. You have yet to tell a soul, and you know that you should before it's too late, but who you can turn to? You have no one𑁋you can't even figure out yourself why this is even happening to you without feeling like you're going absolutely manic.

It's been hard trying to hide the fallen petals away from Mingyu, or away from anyone, in fact, and you find yourself coughing up more petals even when you're just in the same room as him. You always have to discreetly spit them into a tissue or rush to the bathroom to dispose of them, hoping he doesn't notice.

You hardly even see Mingyu anymore. It's either he's always called into work, has something important to do with the guys, or you feel it snaking up your throat painful enough for you to not make a move. The words stick in your throat, and the fear of losing him freezes you up. You can't help but blame yourself for being so distant around him.

If you've really fallen out of love out of him, if you did supposedly fall for someone else, wouldn't that mean that... you're leading him on? It's a thought at the back of your mind, but the guilt gnaws at you day by day like the ever-growing branches piercing through your lungs.

It's frustrating. All of this frustrating, and it's obviously spilled into your work performance as well. You can hardly perfect orders without making mistakes, and your once bright smile has faded into a forced, weary expression. Your manager and co-workers have given you concerned looks, but you've brushed them off, simply claiming it as stress or lack of sleep.

But it doesn't hit hard until today, because it happens so fast𑁋the metal tray you're holding loudly suddenly crashing down to the floor. One moment you can't breathe, and the next you're letting out hacking coughs into your hands, knees dropped to the floor with the spilled coffee staining your pants and shoes.

The café erupts into chaos as some customers quickly rush to your side, a hand still covering your face. You can hardly respond to anyone from the intense heaviness to your chest and dry pain to your throat.

You feel the petals tickling the skin of your hand, quickly crumpling them up in a fist and stuffing them inside the pocket of your apron.

"Y/N, are you okay?" a familiar voice asks worriedly, Jeonghan's voice, who you served earlier, and you catch a glimpse of him kneeling down beside you.

You can't look at him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them back, doing your best to keep whatever you had left of your composure. You force a weak smile as you bring your hand down to the side.

"Yeah," You croak out, voice raspy and barely audible. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

Jeonghan doesn't seem convinced, his eyes trailing over you carefully. You only look past him and keep your gaze low, but it wasn't until you catch sight of a fallen petal resting by your shoes.

And he also sees it as well. Jeonghan's gaze flickers downward, his eyes narrowing as he spots the pale pink petal, and something in his expression changes.

Then he looks back up at you, giving a faint smile, yet serious look.

"Let me take you to the doctor," he urges.

"What? Jeonghan, I can't𑁋"

"I'm taking them to the doctor," he tells one of your co-workers passing by with a broom to clean up the mess you brought to the floor, completely cutting off your words.

You can hardly believe your eyes and ears right now. Your co-worker only nods and quickly takes over your duties while Jeonghan helps you to your feet. Despite your protests, he guides you outside the café, keeping a loose grip on your arm before you get yourself to separate from him in a brief panic.

"Jeonghan, you can't just𑁋just take me out of work like this."

He shoots you a bewildered look. "You're sick, Y/N. It's obvious."

"I know, and I'm fine. It's just stress and bad sleep. Please, just take me back to the café𑁋"

"You have Hanahaki," he says flatly and outright. "I've seen you cough them up. You don't have to hide it from me."

Jeonghan's words hang in the air like an anchor sinking in the ocean. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind races to find some way to deny it, to deflect the truth. But deep down, you know he's right.

Jeonghan, however, doesn't press you for an explanation. Instead, he takes you by the wrist gently and drags you to his car parked nearby.

"Jeonghan𑁋"

"I've had it, Y/N. I've had Hanahaki before," he confesses, a solemn look to his face as his words sink inside you.

You're quiet for a few moments as his words hang suspended in the air, a heavy silence between you two. Hearing that kind of news is from him is oddly... both surprising and comforting, knowing how how rare the illness is. But maybe just maybe, he might understand what you're going through, even if you can't seem to understand yourself.

Once you finally slide into the passenger seat of his car, you manage to get your voice back.

"You've... had it? I mean, just... what happened... how did you get rid of it?"

Once the car engine roars to life, Jeonghan just releases a small chuckle.

"It's the usual story: you fall in love with someone who doesn't love you back. It was terrifying, you know, seeing bits of your feelings turn into something physical like that. I waited too long, so I ended up getting the surgery." There's a shadow of some passing tree branches that cast on his face for a moment. "They never told me the surgery would also mean that my feelings would completely disappear, but it was the only way to save my life."

His face remains calm as he continues to drive, keeping his eyes on the road while your own thoughts were juggling together like a tangled mess of strings.

For a moment, Mingyu's face flashes in your mind, and you wish he were here with you. But you're torn. You don't want to burden him with this.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," You finally say, keeping your voice low. It was all you can say at the moment.

Once the car stops at a red light, he turns to you with a small, sad smile. "Don't be. It was a long time ago, and it taught me a lot of lessons, you could say. I survived, and you will too."

Another round of silence passes through the car, but this one feels less heavy, more contemplative. You watch the passing scenery outside the window as your thoughts continue to whirl like a storm within your mind. Knowing that Jeonghan survived offers a glimmer of hope, but it also deepens your sense of isolation𑁋that you can't lean on Mingyu for support in the same way.

You don't want to lose your feelings for him. You've already built this start of a future with him, and you can't bear the thought of basically removing him from your life for no solid reason.

"I-I have a boyfriend, you know," You blurt out, interrupting the silence, hearing Jeonghan let out an acknowledging hum for you to go on. "We've been together for the past two years, and whenever the... coughing, petals, all this started happening, it confused me."

"The heart is a complicated place," Jeonghan assures you.

You faintly smile at that. "I still love him, I'm sure of that. I know I do. I've never had feelings for anyone else. I just... I can't figure out why this is happening, why I'm coughing up these stupid petals in the first place, and it's been eating me up inside. It hurts."

Jeonghan listens intently as you pour your heart out, his eyes fixed on the road ahead but his attention fully on you. When you finish speaking, he clears his throat.

"You haven't... told him yet, haven't you?" he asks softly, breaking the silence.

You shake your head. "No, I haven't. I-I've just been... scared that I've been pushing him away, leading him on and I don't know about it. What if... if my heart is just betraying me? And now, with this... I don't know what to do."

Jeonghan's lips purse together thoughtfully.

"I think... If you know you love someone, you do," he says. "But... what makes you certain that he loves you back in the same way?"

Jeonghan's question hits you like a ton of bricks. It's a question you've been dying to avoid for this entire time, a fear that's been lurking in the shadows of your heart and the deepest corners of your mind.

What if... Mingyu didn't love you back?

The thought startles a cough out of you and you hastily bring your hand to your mouth, suppressing it as much as you can, the fragile petals fluttering out and settling on your lap. Squinting your eyes just slightly, you notice how they appear more redder than the usual pink you were used to seeing. You clench your hand around them, knuckles white from the tension, and swallow hard. Jeonghan shoots a quick glance of worry in your direction.

"I... I don't know," You utter out shakily. And what if I don't want to know?

The rest of the car ride is relatively quiet with the occasional taps of Jeonghan's fingers on the steering wheel, but not uncomfortably so. You can sense the concern radiating off Jeonghan, but he doesn't push you to talk further.

"You need to talk to him, Y/N," is all he says after turning into the parking lot of the doctor's office.

Once you get out of his car, you turn back to Jeonghan and give him a light wave.

I know, You tell yourself in your head. I know I do.

You stare blankly at the dark red petal in your hand, its edges slightly crumpled from where it had been caught between your trembling fingers. You can hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall itching at your skin, a constant reminder that time is passing, and you're running out of it.

Balling the petal in your hand, you stand up from where you sat on the bed and march out the bedroom. For a second, you felt like you weren't in control of your legs, yet you know you have to take advantage of the chance to muster up the courage to finally tell Mingyu everything.

Not just about the Hanahaki, but about... everything that has been suffocating you inside. It's all you've been thinking about for the past few weeks. When you step into the living room, you spot him sitting at your small dining set, focused on his work as ever with the laptop screen in front of him casting a glow to his face. He doesn't even look up when you announce your presence near him, and your heart clenches at that.

Taking a deep breath, you speak up, "Mingyu, we need to talk."

Mingyu doesn't look up, his focus still on his work, brows furrowing together. "Can it wait, Y/N? I'm in the middle of something important."

You hesitate for a moment, feeling something inside you wince at his words. "No, it can't wait. It's about us."

"Y/N, it's one in the morning right now𑁋"

"Do you even still love me anymore?" The question leaves your mouth all at once, and you swear it even freezes this exact moment that you are in.

The room falls into a suffocating silence. Mingyu finally tears his gaze away from the laptop, his eyes meeting yours. In that moment, you see a complex mix of emotions in his eyes: surprise, guilt, and something else you can't quite place.

"I..." he starts, voice shaky. "Y/N, you can't just𑁋"

"Just answer the fucking question, Kim Mingyu." You clench the petal in your hand, feeling its dry, sharp edges dig into your skin. Then you realise the harshness to your words, softening your eyes and lowering your voice. "Please."

The room seems to close in around you as you wait for Mingyu's response. His hesitation hangs in the air, and you see the way his shoulders slump and the way his face contorts as he struggles to find the right words to say to just a simple question.

"I... I don't know, Y/N."

His words stab your heart. It's getting hard to breathe, but you can't let yourself cough now. Not in this moment. The petal in your hand crumples into dust as you clench it tighter.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know?" Your voice trembles as you ask, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance. "You either love me or you don't, just tell me, for God's sake."

Your frustration is evident, tone catching him off-guard. Mingyu's gaze drops to the table, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. I-I'm so so sorry."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. This is what you've been afraid of, what you've been trying to avoid. But now that it's out in the open, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted, even if it's crushing you at the same time.

And then, you feel it𑁋a sharp pain to your lungs that makes you gasp as if you've been stabbed by a searing blade. The room spins as you struggle to catch your breath, your hands trembling as you clutch your chest, letting out harrowing coughs after coughs. Mingyu jumps up from his seat, immediately racing to your side.

"Y/N?! Shit, Y/N, you're bleeding𑁋"

You can't respond, the pain in your chest and the taste of blood in your mouth overwhelming your senses. You hold onto him for support as another bout of coughing consumes you. This isn't how you wanted to reveal your condition to him, but there's no hiding it now.

You feel the way Mingyu scoops you into his arms, the blood from your mouth and the petals staining his shirt as he reaches for his phone to dial emergency services. His voice is helpless and frantic, and within seconds, minutes, maybe even whole hour, you hear the distant wail of approaching sirens.

The soft hum of machines echo through the air as you stir awake, eyes fluttering open and the blinding white lights above blurring your vision. The first sensation that you register was the overwhelming scent of disinfectant filling your nose, sharp and pungent. Then came the dull ache in your chest that makes your breath quietly hitch.

Blinking your eyes open, you realise you're in a hospital room, the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. The sight of white walls and strange medical equipment, an IV line running into your arm, makes your heart race anxiously. You try to take a deep breath, but then you feel that ache in your chest again, and it makes you groan.

Just then at that moment, a young looking nurse enters the room, her eyes widening when she catches sight of you awake and distressed.

"Easy now," she says, rushing to your side and gently pushing you back down onto the bed. "You've just had surgery. You need to rest."

Surgery...?

You could only nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak. You watch as the nurse adjusts some of the monitors and checks your vitals, making sure everything was in place.

"Everything went well during the surgery," she reassures you. "But the hanahaki flowers had grown more aggressively than expected and showed signs of piercing through your lungs. It's a good thing we performed the emergency surgery when we did."

Hanahaki... The word lingers in your mind as you try to make sense of it all. Memories began to resurface: the petals mixing with your blood, the coughing fits, and... Mingyu. It all seemed so distant now, as if it had happened to someone else.

"You were lucky that we caught in time before the growth would have overtaken your lungs," the nurse says sympathetically while writing down your vitals on a chart.

Lucky. How ironic. You were alive, yes, but at what cost? You couldn't help but wonder if the surgery had taken more from you than just the hanahaki flowers.

And then it hits you.

There's no trace of the pain that had clawed at your chest for so long, except for the skin atop your heart where you can feel the incisions. The hanahaki flowers are gone, removed during the emergency surgery, but there's something else missing too𑁋your feelings, your love, for Mingyu.

You feel nothing. No pining, no longing, no aching heart. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your chest, but the emptiness is... disquieting, unnerving, just a void, a hole in place of where your warmth resided in.

You're no longer in love with Mingyu, just like he is for you.

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dreamsofbroflovski · 14 days ago

Note

Dude, I just— I made a Tumblr account to follow you JANDKSND and ask for a request 🤧🤧

Can we have some of Kyley-B x reader? 😵‍💫 I would like to read a cliché of the innocent girl and the bad boy who incites her to do illicit things (with smut, of course). 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Heeeeeyaaaaaa my first request! ❤️

I am so so so so sorry for taking so long to get to it. Really need to make my writing more speedy and efficient.

Hope you liked it, and once again, really damn sorry 😭😭😭

Also, a belated merry christmas/happy holidays to everyone!

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene

Also available on ao3!

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Doggy Style Position

A/N: Gods was this one hard. I never imagined writing Kyley-B would be this hard. Props to everyone who has managed thus far, because this guy wrestled against me in my mind for the whole 14 pages of the Google Docs and even now that I'm posting it I'm not sure I actually won.

I tried my hardest to put together what an adult version of Jersey Kyle would be if he really donned the mantle. Hope I did him justice.

The story of how my life changed forever was rooted in New Jersey, but happened nowhere near there.

When I applied to work at the South Park Public Library, I thought it would be an easy task. Library work in a small secluded town, in a day and age where people mostly forgot about physical books due to the convenience of Kindles or their own phones? How hard can it be? Turns out, very. The place greatly suffered from a lack of useful employees, so I ended up doing a lot of extra work that had nothing to do with what I was hired for, with no extra pay, when the salary was already not that stellar to begin with. Not a great headstart for a fresh-out-of-college English major such as myself, but it was this or the 7/11.

Days like that one kind of made the whole thing worth it, though. Summer weekends in the middle of July, when all the students were on vacation and people lacked the urge to read in favor of other activities, and the only people that would actually visit the library would be soft-spoken loners who just craved the social connection but at the same time didn’t want to chase it. In those days, I was able to just sit back on my chair at the reception counter and take full advantage of the amount of books around me, reading to my heart’s content for almost a full eight hours and getting paid for it.

Such a situation is how I found myself at that particular moment. Curled up as well as I could get in my tiny office chair, my shoes forgotten under the desk in favor of the comfort of being barefoot, yet another book in my hands that wasn’t part of my enormous ‘To Read’ list. It was all cruising up to be another quiet and peaceful day, just a few check outs and some small talk.

Except it wasn’t.

I heard the sizzling of a dynamite’s wick before seeing a full blown atomic bomb. Loud squeaky sounds of sneaker soles trudging across the hardwood, strings of profanities being spewed with each step, followed by the shocked gasps of some of the people seated nearby and their hurried movement as they got out of the way in every direction. Noise like this would usually have me kindly remind its emitter of the setting around them and beg for more silence, but as I raised my eyes from my book, I knew it would be of no use.

Already in front of the counter was one of the most obnoxious-looking men I had ever seen. His blazing curly red hair was slicked back with an obscene amount of gel on it, to the point where it made me wonder if it just started to stay that way after his showers. I couldn’t see him from the waist down, but he was wearing a loose fit wife beater, showing off the muscles of his arms in all their ‘glory’. A golden chain dangled around his neck, clearly fake, the paint already chipped in places where its links connected. His tanned skin already looked out of place in the cold town in the middle of the mountains, where its citizens were mostly pale due to never seeing enough sun to actually get a tan to begin with - but this man was just a few shades away from orange, painfully artificial, he’d stand out like a sore thumb no matter where he was.

“That’s right, you better fucking go, bitch!” The loud addition to my peaceful workplace called out angrily, looking over his shoulder, finishing up his threats on the last bypasser he could before turning his face forward again, which finally let me take a good look at his features. There I saw which had to be the only real thing about him - intense olive eyes that glinted with a fire unknown to me, pure passion and energy, the type that could either burn someone to the ground or keep them warm and safe in the winters. Right now, however, they could set the entire library ablaze by sheer feral glares alone.

I hurriedly scrambled to adjust my position in my seat and rested my book to the side of my computer. “Good afternoon and welcome to the South Park Public Library, restrooms are at the end of the first corridor to the left,” my explanation was kind and gentle, accompanied by a gesture of my hand in the general direction I spoke of.

“I don’t wanna know about no fuckin’ toilet,” the man spat, as if me merely opening my mouth to say something that was of no use to him was enough to make him angry beyond measure, “I’m here to return this.”

With an unneeded display of strength that made all the other items in the counter shake slightly, he slammed a book on it in front of me, his hand staying splayed on top of the cover, allowing me to see that his fingers were fully decked out in fake gold rings in the same fashion of his chain.

Even without seeing the full thing, I recognized that book immediately. My eyes widened. If I was to be honest, I didn’t even imagine the guy in front of me was capable of reading to begin with - and the book he brought was such difficult literature, even I struggled with it at first, so to imagine he deliberately checked that one out and allegedly read it to completion flabbergasted me.

I forced myself to blink and reel back from my shock before continuing the interaction. Get it together, I told myself mentally. My mother told me all the time to never judge a book by its cover - even if that defeated the whole purpose of book cover graphic designers to begin with -, and this was what I was doing right now; letting my prejudices get in the way of what could be a healthy interaction with a fellow bookworm.

Lightly, I placed my hands on the sides of the book and pulled it slowly towards me, letting it slide under his palm, which I avoided touching altogether lest it make him more angry. “Of course, sir,” I managed to assemble a gentle smile on my lips, trying my best to not let my previous thoughts show up on my face.

“Don’t call me sir, I’m not that old,” this complaint was slightly less persistent, but I was still not about to test his limits on it.

“Of course… Mister,” the word in that context sounded way too weird to me, but it was better than the two alternatives of either insisting on ‘sir’ or just not calling him by any title at all, “I’m just gonna need your library card, if you have it on you right now…”

His hand left the counter to retrieve something in his pocket, before swiftly passing to me a tiny rectangular piece of plastic - his library card, the old design of them at that, which meant he had it for quite a while now. My eyes narrowed as I scanned it, my brain multitasking with my fingers typing his card number on the database, and I found myself repeating the information out loud. “Alright, let’s see… Kyle Br-”

“Kyley-B,” his correction came harsh and immediate, stopping me from saying even one more letter of his government name, “And don’t you dare forget it.”

I really hadn’t. It wasn’t like I didn’t know his name, everyone knew it well - he was an infamous face in town. Originally from New Jersey and carrying with him every single terrible stereotype about the place, the man before me caused trouble wherever he went, having very little regard for anything that didn’t concern himself, and yet expecting everyone else to show him the respect he lacked for them. He had actually been in South Park longer than I did, but apparently what was said held true: you can’t take the Jersey out of someone.

“M-My apologies… Kyley-B,” I tried my best to abide by his request and use his nickname in a sentence no matter how ridiculous it sounded, while still typing on the computer to avoid enhancing his anger in any way, “It’s all set. Feel free to peruse the collection if you’d like to borrow something else.” Please don’t was the thought that came right after.

He nodded curtly, taking the card from me to put it back in his pocket, and I noticed his shoulders relaxing a little. Apparently, me being polite and understanding appeased him greatly, like he had understood that I wasn’t one of the assholes trying to get him pissed or something. For as long as I was respectful, I’d stay out of the path of destruction. I could swear I saw the intensity in his eyes shift a bit - but I avoided staring too long, both in fear of getting him angry again and in slight embarrassment at the thought that he might notice me doing that. “Thanks. I think I will.”

Leaning back in my chair and picking my book back up in my hands, I figured that was that. Kyley-B would go off somewhere looking for trouble and I’d be back to my silence and my reading. Yet I didn’t hear the same noises I had when he arrived; no cursing, no loud shoes, no nothing. When I raised my eyes again, he was still there - leaning towards me with his forearms on the counter and a curious expression on his face.

“Do you… Need any help?” I inquired, slowly placing the book on my lap and rolling the chair closer to the desk so he wouldn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have my attention.

A smirk curved his lips as he eyed me up and down. “Nah, just… Perusing.”

Well, now that’s a word I would never hear out of the mouth of a Jersey guy.

“Okay…” My fingers nervously tapped the cover of my book. “If there’s anything I can do for you, then-”

“There is, actually,” his body swayed slightly as he shifted his weight on his feet, “Has to do with my phone. You can put your number in it.”

Another jolt of bewilderment crossed my features. Allowing myself to focus my eyes on his again, I then understood what it was I saw on them earlier. Attraction. Now that he wasn’t angry anymore, Kyley-B was allowing himself to see me as a woman instead of Personal Enemy Number Ten Thousand. And he made no attempt to hide that he liked what he saw. The blood ran to my cheeks and ears before I could compose myself, my body clearly not accustomed to such unabashed interest. “E-Excuse me?”

“Your number, baby,” he repeats as if it’s nothing, “Could say I’m tryna make a movie with you here, but you clearly rather have your erotica in book form.”

What kind of Jersey asshole even knows about the word ‘erotica’? “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

A ring-adorned index finger pointed towards the book on my lap and I froze. I had deliberately chosen the version of this book - a rather obscure piece of erotic literature, the first of a series - that had a more passable cover, absolutely nothing in it that could give away its themes, in a way that they could only be known by someone who already knew the title. And there was no way Kyley did, right?

“I’ll tell you right now, stop at the first one. The sequels are garbage.” Kyley did. He shook his head with his own advice, like the memories of having to go through the continuations of that book brought stress back to his mind again.

My hands quickly grabbed the book and tried to hide it behind my computer monitor, away from his eyes, but the damage had been done. I tried to retort, but the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as gasps that enhanced further my petrified face, my wide eyes and the intensifying blush in my cheeks and ears.

“Cat get ya tongue?” Kyley teased as if reading my mind, his upper body leaning over the counter so his pointing finger could brush softly against my cheek, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m no blabbermouth.”

Still I took a bit to relax and believe his words. This was a small town, gossip spread as easily as the snow fell, it would be hard to show my face anywhere without having jokes hurled towards me about being a ‘closeted freak’. Which was extremely far from the truth, to be honest - that genre of book was not amongst my most read, I was as vanilla as they came, it was literally an unfortunate circumstance that led to anyone finding out about this.

The fact that Kyley-B was so uncharacteristically decent and understanding about it too, despite the initial teasing when he was hitting on me, threw me off even more. He had no reason to help me, and he was notorious for being unhelpful, so this was odd behavior on his part. My mind raced with reasons as to why that would be, trying to make sense of the madness - maybe he had secrets of his own, or maybe he just understood how it was to be the subject of unsavory discussions everywhere he passed. Either way, I found myself thankful for his actions.

Eventually, I let out a deep sigh, my lungs almost hurting as I did. “Thank you… Kyley.” I murmured, nodding slowly, my eyes shining with the gratitude that I couldn’t express with words without sounding corny.

He brought his hand back to himself, and I looked at his face again, seeing the exact same intense expression as before. Maybe, in my slight delirium of trying to build up Kyley-B as an actual human being with thoughts and feelings instead of your stereotypical Jersey playboy, I had imagined it faltering.

“That’s something I like to hear,” the flirtatious tone of voice was back with a vengeance, “Now, about that phone number of yours...”

And just like that, I was avoiding his eyes once more, my hands drifting down to fidget with the hem of my skirt absentmindedly, making me look even more suspicious. “I… I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“We only have to get inappropriate if you want me to,” his smirk grew. His voice didn’t even drop in volume as he said this, like he was completely comfortable with talking to unknown women like that - which he probably was, “We can just go party, have a couple drinks, make some noise, shit, whatever it is you like.”

Whatever it was I liked did not involve any of the things he mentioned. “I… I’m afraid I might not be the ideal person for that.” As I tried to let him down easy, I felt a striking pain in my chest; like the act of refusing made me uncomfortable, like I somehow wanted to accept it, even though it didn’t belong to me at all. “But thank you for the offer.”

“‘Not ideal’? What the fuck is that about?” He retorted, and for a moment I thought I might’ve riled him up again - but, although he was still loud, he didn’t seem angrier. More so confused about what I said rather than the circumstances of it. “I’m inviting ya, ain’t I? How the fuck is that not ideal?”

“It’s not the invitation!” I was quick to respond, “It’s just I don’t think I’m the right kind of company for all that… I’m sure there’s better people in town who would love to go clubbing with you.”

“Well, I’m not inviting those other people, I’m inviting you!” It was clear the insistence would not wane anytime soon. He rubbed his eyes with his palms for a bit, his mind trying to come up with a solution, before taking a deep breath and looking at me again. “How about some coffee, or tea, then? You into that?”

My eyes widened in surprise and he probably knew he struck gold there. A coffee shop was much more up my alley, but never in a million years would I imagine the likes of Kyley-B in such an environment - somewhere with no alcohol, no loud music, and where fighting was not tolerated. “I… I am, yes.”

“Coffee it is, then,” his tone was every bit as comfortable as he was when he mentioned partying, “Just gotta avoid that one place near the movie theater. Tastes like shit and the owner is a piece of garbage.”

A small giggle left my mouth. I had been to that coffee shop and knew its owner personally, it wasn’t hard considering the town was pretty small. For once in his life, Kyley-B was right, even if I personally wouldn’t phrase it all like he did. The business was probably only kept standing due to the fact people were too used to it by now, but it was the one place where I wouldn’t mind seeing a Jersey-level rage outburst take place.

My reaction was stifled by a glare Kyley shot at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand if I was laughing at him or with him. “I’m sorry! It’s just… I don’t like that place either.” I admitted, immediately scanning the library hall with wide eyes, trying to see if there was anyone around that could’ve heard me say that.

His expression relaxed and he nodded. “You ain’t gotta be so shy, you know,” he commented, his tone slightly more serious, “If you have your truth, then you gotta just say it. It’s how we do it in Jersey, and it works!”

It didn’t really work, but I wasn’t about to question him, not when the structure of his message was in the right place. My whole existence happened inside strict lines ever since I was a kid, I was one to keep my opinions to myself and rein in my actions to keep myself palatable to the people around me. This lifestyle had me sheltered to a fault, but until that moment I was fine with it; going through life avoiding trouble kept me healthy and safe, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. However, Kyley-B’s advice still held some sort of water, and I found myself willing to hear more, even though it came from such an unreliable narrator.

“I know, I know… I just didn’t want anyone to hear me say that. It feels weird.” I shrugged.

“Well, maybe if that place wasn’t so trashy, you wouldn’t have to complain about it, it’s exactly what I am saying!” He retorted, the serious edge in his voice gone and replaced by the usual annoyance. “And I keep telling people that, but they won’t listen!”

With every passing millisecond, Kyley-B managed to confuse me more. While a part of me was stuck on the still present image of the annoying jerk who only knows how to pick fights and be rude to others, another part slowly took form; one that was intrigued about that man, knowing that although he could be a little too much, he was still completely true to himself, which is more than what can be said about a lot of the people around me. Right now, he carried his actions like a motorcycle zig-zagging through the traffic of my mind. Its destination? The inside of my skirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.”

Kyley-B nodded with a smirk, content that I wasn’t disputing him like people usually seemed to do. Though something told me that even if I did, I still wouldn’t be subjected to the same type of verbal abuse others would if they tried that. “Now, back to that coffee…”

I then managed to notice that we weren’t alone in our conversation anymore when a hand sneaked from behind the Jersey man, tapping his shoulder a bit. Immediately my brain was blaring sirens, the word ‘DANGER’ being transmitted by every one of my neurons. “Excuse me, sir?” Another male voice called out, well-mannered enough, yet still firm.

Kyley-B immediately turned to face the unknown third party, his eyebrows furrowing and whole expression hardening into anger. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

Apparently the stranger had very little regard for his life, because he didn’t back out from the rude display, their tone instead becoming louder and more insistent in retaliation. “Well, your ‘something’ needs to happen somewhere else, because I have to check out this book and this is the only counter available!” He lifted his hand to show Kyley the book he was holding, as if that would drill the information into his skull.

All it did was make him more angry. He quickly snatched the book from the client’s hand, throwing it with such force it managed to hit the wall farthest from us, before stepping closer to the stranger and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The client was stunned for a second, both from his book being thrown and from the sudden inferred physical threat. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Through his shock he still managed to spit back, trying his best to mirror Kyley’s body language and tone; but it’s hard to be as violent as a guy from Jersey. “Can’t you see you’re fucking wrong? Back off!”

“No, you back off!” Kyley used both his hands to push his adversary away - the other guy stumbled backwards a few feet, but luckily didn’t fall. However, the Jersey man was quick to breach the freshly created distance with hard steps. “I’ll fucking teach garbage like you not to mess with me!”

Right in front of the stranger again, Kyley cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. The other guy straightened his posture and balled both fists at his sides, prepared to strike the Jersey threat right back if it came to that.

Mustering the small courage I had in me and having to force my fear-frozen legs to move, I ran from behind the counter towards the two men, putting my hands on their shoulders and praying to all deities that my presence would make them back off instead of turning me into a casualty of the upcoming brawl. “G-Gentlemen, please, don’t…” My voice was thin and desperate, reflecting the state of my mind as I tried to diffuse this situation to the best of my abilities, “There’s no need for any of this! Please, calm down!”

Luckily, they heard me well enough, and my guess is having to acknowledge the presence of a woman put a damper, however small, in their urge to clash. For a moment, our little group was completely silent except for the heavy breathing noises coming from the three of us - the two men furious like bulls about to strike, and me in terrified anxiety over the situation. They maintained a quiet staredown for what felt like forever, and I knew that if they were telepaths, the offenses they’d be mentally hurling at each other would contain curse words that could make a sailor blush. Then Kyley-B did something I didn’t even think he could physically do - he took a step back from a fight.

“Screw this noise,” he huffed, before turning his face to me again and making a gesture with his arm that beckoned me to accompany him somewhere, “Come on, can’t fucking talk in here without a shithead butting in.”

“W-What? Come on where?” My hands gestured desperately towards both my counter and the client in front of Kyley, who the redhead was now clearly ignoring as if he was nothing more than a decorative piece of the library, much to the other’s confusion, “I mean, I’m working right now!”

Before I could stop him, he walked back to the reception and reached over to the space of my desk, his hand clumsily scattering a bunch of the items on it before he could retrieve what he wanted - a small desk sign that just said ‘Be Back Soon’. He placed it firmly on top of the counter, the text facing him. “There. Now you ain’t.”

Kyley-B didn’t even allow me to put my shoes back on before he grabbed me by the wrist and started taking me away from the reception. I sent the other client one last apologetic look over my shoulder as Kyley dragged me, his sneakers louder than ever as he brought a barefooted me all the way to the farthest hallways of the library, down the always empty and slightly dusty Latin Literature section. His hand only loosened its hold when we stopped walking completely. Place was empty except for me, him and one of the trustworthy metal library carts, containing an assortment of books that needed to be delivered back into their proper shelves.

When he put both his hands in his pockets, I realized that now, away from the reception counter, I could see the lower half of his body. Even though he wore a belt, his acid wash denim jeans still hung a bit low on his hips - when his shirt shifted slightly, I could see the top of his boxers’ waistband peeking out. A look that normally would have given me pause when it came to a guy, but at that moment, what paused was my gaze, that I had to forcefully tear away from the region as I imagined what he looked like minus the outfit.

“Fucking finally. Can’t stand those hicks sticking their nose in business that ain’t theirs.” He spat, looking over his shoulder a bit towards the direction from which we came, like he was still trying to send his message to the other man who couldn’t even hear him anymore.

“I guess...” I didn’t really want to continue dwelling on what just transpired; Kyley’s anger was still fresh - was it ever not? - and the last thing I wanted was for him to decide to head back and finally start what he was about to before I intervened. Besides, from our small interaction in the reception desk, I had learnt that he had a ‘not complete jerk’ side to him that was much more tolerable to be around.

“I swear, people in this town stress me the fuck out. Gahbage, all of them.“ He shook his head and with that, finally turned his face back to me - his expression was still intense, but at least he wasn’t completely pissed off anymore, and a hint of that cocky flirtatious grin had returned to his lips. “Well, not all. But enough about that bullshit. What do they call you around these parts?”

The way he asked for my name sounded weird to me, but I guess that’s the type of sentence someone’s got to use when their name is ‘Kyley-B’ and they refuse to be referred to as anything else. “I’m Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh? That’s hot.”

Of all the adjectives he could have chosen, he went for the one I had never seen used before to describe a name, especially mine. “What do you mean by that?”

Kyley frowned a bit in confusion. “I mean it’s hot, what of it?” The answer came with a dismissive shrug, as if it was obvious and I was dumb for even having something to question. “Your name is hot, you’re hot, there’s not much else to say.”

My mouth spoke before my mind could catch the words this time. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

His frown intensified and I put my hands over my lips, the mistake getting to me. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just, I’ve seen you around,” my brain cells worked themselves into overdrive trying to find a way to say it that didn’t sound accusatory, “With some girls, and…”

Lively laughter that almost seemed to rumble the books on the nearby shelves interrupted my train of thought. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Kyley ran his fingers through his own hair - it almost didn’t even move due to the sheer amount of hair gel. “Don’t ya worry about it, baby. I like the covered up look too. You’re really pretty.”

He eyed me up and down slowly, still grinning, as if he truly appreciated what he saw. I looked down at myself as well, taking in my outfit - a loose-fitting blouse, a skirt that ended just barely above my knees, my bare feet that were earlier covered by a pair of flats. Miles away from the style of the women that I’d seen Kyley-B have in his arms - women who wore clothes with much less fabric, shoes with much higher heels, makeup with much more vibrant colors. Women that dressed like they wanted the attention, in the way that Kyley’s personality denounced the same thing.

Yet that Jersey man still looked at me like he wanted me in a much worse way than he’d want any of those girls, beyond just flirting for the hell of it or so he could add another number to his body count. And I was eating it up despite myself - having the undivided attention of Kyley-B in a somewhat private setting like this, instead of fighting other women for it at a club or something, was deliciously feeding into my ego, and it took everything in my mind for me to remind myself that this was my job and I was working and there is no way anything can happen and oh my lord his eyes are so gorgeous.

My eyes drifted to the floor, suddenly very interested in the nail polish on my toes and the small creases on Kyley’s Jordans. “Thank you…”

“See? This is what I’m talking about.” One of his hands made its way to my chin, tilting it upwards just enough to bring my attention towards his face again.“That’s the fourth time you’ve thanked me now. Makes me wanna actually give you something to be thankful for.”

Now forced to look at him - honestly, I don’t know how ‘forced’ I really was, considering I made no attempt to dodge my head away from his hold -, the fire reddening my face was on full display for Kyley, a sight that made his smirk widen.

“There’s no need for that,” I murmured, though the little vain monster in my heart yearned for him to continue talking about me like that, to continue making me feel actually interesting, “It’s just… who I am.”

He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on mine. “Who you are? I wanna know all about that… Inside and out.”

My nervous hard swallow was audible. I was sure I could boil a kettle using only the heat radiating from me at that moment. His voice was dripping with desire; the double entendre almost making the air around us crackle with how charged it was. Despite my whole body presenting all my real feelings, my personality still clamored for some semblance of that decorum that Kyley-B was trying to make slip away. "I don’t know… I don’t think we should…”

“Why not?” This time, there was no anger in his voice as he questioned me; its volume had dropped lower, matching the ‘private’ nature of the conversation. “I’m into it, you’re into it, I don’t see the issue.”

I could’ve denied, said he understood everything wrong and I was just being polite, thanked him for his time and left that place with my decency intact. But I was always a very bad liar, and there was no denying the way my heart beated like a drum with his proximity, how my face got beet red just from our simple conversations, or the way I eagerly paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth.

Why was I feeling so drawn to his offer anyway? Was it the forbidden aspect of it all, the knowledge that I’d be going wild and letting loose while still maintaining the looks of a productive member of society? Did I internally enjoy the attention of someone who usually went for women that had nothing to do with me in either appearance or personality? Was the savior complex acting up again, the ‘I can change him’ mentality? All of the above would lead to the same outcome.

Another thing that really led me towards the path of surrendering to Kyley was the fact that, during all of this, he still hadn’t touched me in any way that was inherently sexual, despite all of his verbal advances. He was still waiting for my consent, exhibiting atypical patience, which made me believe he would’ve been okay even if I legitimately rejected him - the thing he couldn’t take was me hiding myself from the both of us, my attempts at masking my interest, and that’s why he was still pressing the issue. He wanted to take me, but he also had to make sure I wanted to be taken.

“Come on, baby… Talk to me…” His voice dropped even lower as he took the final step towards me, our bodies inches from each other now, “Wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little mind…”

The deep shuddering breath I took brought to me the smells of old books and some very strong cologne, the latter of which I could easily imagine on my pillow. “Need you…”

His hands grabbed both sides of my face and he pulled me into a fierce kiss, groaning into my mouth once we collided. His lips were surprisingly soft, likely due to a religious application of chapstick, but the kiss as a whole was still rough in a figurative sense; tough, possessive, everything that man was now being transferred to me through the clashing of our mouths, basically demanding me to respond in kind.

Which was something I didn’t even know I could do. I wasn’t necessarily a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I was all that seasoned, either. My years in university weren’t necessarily the great breeding ground for sexual experience that they seemed to be for everyone else - turns out all the other English majors were more interested in reading about steamy affection and whirlwind romances rather than actually living them.

So that moment with Kyley-B, in the back of my workplace, was the first moment of my life I actually felt desired - like my whole presence did something for the man in front of me, something he couldn’t ignore. And I found myself in equal measure wanting him as well, entranced by his untamed nature, like a tiny wild side of me I didn’t even know existed was slowly coming to life now that he was close enough.

We needed to have each other. So, letting my last sliver of rational thought become dust and settle on the books in the shelves around us, I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders and gently bringing him even closer. Kyley’s hands tightened around my waist and he pushed me backwards until I felt my ass lightly hit the library cart, hearing the faint squeak of the wheels as they moved a bit from the slight impact. His tongue led mine in a sensual dance, one that I initially didn’t know the moves to, but that quickly became second nature under his expert tutoring. His hips pressed against me and I was a bit glad to notice he was clearly affected too, seeking whatever friction he could get by grinding his bulge against my lower abdomen.

Both of us had our chests heaving heavily when we pulled back in need of air, and that’s when I realized my whole body was trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Please…” was all I could manage to say, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for; for Kyley-B to calm down, to keep going, to do more, to bring me somewhere else or take me right there. Just whatever it was that would calm down the heat on my lower abdomen, since I knew only he could take care of that now.

“You really know your magic words, what a good girl,” Kyley murmured with his mouth still inches from mine, his words teasing, but with an undertone of praise. One of his hands slowly drifted down from my waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt a bit just so it could slide under, a feather-light touch making its way towards my inner thighs until it settled right over my clothed pussy - the material already thoroughly damp from just his previous contact.

Two of his fingers traced my slit over my panties before they stopped right on top of my clit, applying slight pressure to it before rubbing tight firm circles over it, the fabric of my underwear providing even more friction against my extra sensitive bundle of nerves. My teeth dug into my lower lip as I stifled my whimpers, squirming quietly under Kyley’s teasing moves.

“You’re real wet, ya know that?” He moved his head so that he could whisper in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The tip of his tongue then slowly traced the outline of my ear, a seductive gesture that sent goosebumps through my whole body. “Love to see it. Basically dripping for me.”

His digits moved back lower between my thighs, tracing me yet again, but the pressure on my clit wasn’t missed for long, as his palm was now flat against it, applying a bit of pressure and moving just barely to still keep me sensitive. He pushed my very damp panties to the side, a finger now circling my entrance, the small wet sounds it made almost deafening to me, proving Kyley’s previous claim without a doubt.

When he pushed his index in, I grabbed hard on the library cart handle, making it rattle a bit with the sudden movement. My breath hitched with the sudden intrusion, and Kyley chuckled in satisfaction, his face lowering to my neck. The pleasurable pain of the bites he started to place on the sensitive skin came in tandem with his middle finger also plunging inside of me, all the way to the last knuckle.

Kyley-B wasted no time before curling his fingers in a come hither motion, pumping them in and out with a type of strength that made my whole body shake with each push inward. My hips moved towards his palm in sync with his ministrations, subconsciously trying to get extra friction on my clit.

Despite never having seen me before, it was like he had a complete map of my body in his mind. He knew exactly what to do at all times to make me feel good, and handled my body with a type of care that I would never expect from the likes of him. My worries about his nature or his intentions were gone with the wind; he could be whoever he wanted, as long as he’d continue laying his passion on all the neglected erotic parts of both my body and spirit. Soon my nails started making scraping noises against the metal of the handle, like I wasn’t just holding on to it, but also to the last little bit of my sanity before Kyley-B would kick me right into the deepest ends of pleasure.

Then suddenly, it stopped. His fingers withdrew from me and he took them to his mouth, cleaning my whole arousal out of those digits as he sucked on them. Not saying a word, he then used both of his hands to hike up my skirt completely so that it would be bunched up on my waist, immediately pressing his body against me again while his fingers drifted to the side of my panties. With a fierce tug that would’ve made me lose balance if not for his presence, he tore the damp fabric clean off, dropping it on the floor near our feet.

“What… Why did you…” I stuttered a bit as I looked up at him with my mouth hanging slightly open, looking every bit needy and desperate for him, absolutely pathetic in my yearning for the touch of that man.

His response came as a series of quick yet sensual kisses, the last one prolonged by the soft pulling of my bottom lip between his teeth. “Think we’re both gonna like it a lot more if you cum on my cock, baby,” he cooed, “And ya want it too, right? Don’t think you’d want to come all the way here just to get two fingers in.”

My head moved in a meek nod. My brain would’ve normally scolded me for agreeing so easily to words like these, so overtly sexually charged, but I couldn’t exactly lie to Kyley, either. I wanted him to fill me up. Taking in my agreement, he pulled back just a bit so he could make quick work of the belt and buttons in his jeans and pulled both them and his boxers slightly down, just enough for his cock to spring free.

A lot of times, when people see feisty men with boisterous personalities, they like to say that those men are compensating for a lack of something. Kyley-B absolutely was not. He had the inches and the girth to back up every single aggressive display and explicit word that left his mouth. I pressed my thighs together, both in a gesture of fear for my poor pussy and also as a way to create some sort of pressure in the area that could calm me down until he would finally give it all to me.

My light squirming did not go unnoticed by his ever observant olive eyes. For all his violent behavior, he was still a really sharp individual. “You can take it,” he stated in a way that left no room for questioning, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Kyley took my lips back in his as his hands then moved from my waist to my ass, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp against his mouth. He kneaded the soft flesh a bit, feeling it around. Then, without warning, both his hands delivered hard smacks to each side of my bottom, and I broke the kiss with a loud high-pitched yelp - the sounds almost echoed in the quiet library. He immediately started rubbing circles with his palms on the areas he slapped, as if trying to soothe them, contented groans rumbling in his chest. His next sentence came as an order. “Turn around. Need to feel this ass on me.”

I spun 180 degrees on my feet without a second thought and he pushed my back unceremoniously, making me bend over the library cart in front of me before shoving my head down towards it so that my back would be even lower and my ass would be in a more prominent position. My face landed on its side on one of the books that I was supposed to put back in place - Don Quixote. I had the feeling that by the end of my encounter with Kyley-B I too would be crazy enough to fight windmills.

I could only hear the noises his shoes made as he settled properly behind me, the hand he had used to shove me now placed at my back, putting slight pressure to keep me bent. He held his cock with the other one, giving a few light taps with it on my ass, and I just knew his gaze was burning into me as he watched the soft flesh jiggle a bit. When he positioned himself to start dragging the head across my slit, gathering up my already plentiful arousal and spreading it around even more, I whined and bucked back a little with my hips, the library cart under me rolling a bit as well.

Immediately the hand that had been resting on my back moved to my ass and grabbed it fiercely. “Damn desperate for my cock, are ya, baby?” I could almost hear the smirk in his lips as he said those words, “Don’t worry, Imma give it to ya… And you ain’t even gonna need to thank me for it…”

Fortunately Kyley-B did not make me wait much longer after that. He was all about that instant gratification, and my submissive behaviour fed right into it. He traced my slit a few more times with the tip of his cock before pushing it fully inside of me in one swift motion, taking advantage of my wetness buildup.

Another yelp from deep within my throat, this time accompanied by a deep grunt from Kyley-B’s. Both his hands grabbed my hips with such ferocity it felt like he was trying to get his fingers to break through my skin - but he’d have to settle for them just leaving a couple bruises. The stinging sensation deep in my walls as they stretched around his cock was like nothing I had ever felt before; worse than it felt when I lost my virginity, yet it was better, as in, actually good. I took a deep breath, hoping the air coming inside my lungs might help ease the burning somehow.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Kyley-B grunted behind me, his tone of voice faltering for a moment, becoming less brutish than usual - he was lost in the feeling of being inside me just as much as I was on the feeling of taking him. “Gonna end up ruining ya… If I’m not careful…”

He already had.

His grip steadied on my hips as he pulled away from me, before slamming all the way back in, giving me no time to calm down as he quickly settled into a steady pace, each thrust burying his cock to the hilt inside of my cunt. He was so big I could feel his tip hitting my cervix, constant jolts of pain coursing through my lower abdomen with each hit - yet I didn’t feel any urge to bring myself away from it or make it stop. It was the best pain I had ever felt in my life, which is a sentence I never thought I’d put together.

Before I knew it I was letting out loud pleasure whines, my perception of the environment around me slowly being lost. Kyley still seemed to maintain his for a bit, though - to stifle my noises, he quickly shoved his index and middle finger inside of my mouth, almost all the way to the third knuckle. As if on cue, I started sucking on those digits and swirling my tongue around them like it was second nature.

“Fuck, girl,” he groaned with a husky voice, “If ya pussy wasn’t this fuckin’ good I’d be using my cock on this great tongue ya got instead.”

His other hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it with reasonable strength, making me gasp and bringing my head up - my mouth opened wider and I could now taste the brass of his fake rings on my tongue as he pushed his fingers all the way inside, having the surprising care of positioning them in such a way that they wouldn’t make me gag, while I continued to work on them.

He didn’t keep my noises muffled like this for long. Soon he seemed to realize it was of no use and we were already loud anyway; so he let go of my hair and my face immediately fell forward, his fingers leaving my mouth with a wet noise and slight pain to me as his rings clumsily hit my teeth from the sudden movement. His hands slapped both sides of my ass again and I yelled with full force of my lungs - now that I was free to make noise, he seemed interested in testing my ability of it, and I could swear the squelching noises my pussy made with each of his thrusts became louder as he sped up a bit.

With each potent snap of his hips against my ass, my whole body would jerk forward and cause the library cart to hit the tall wooden bookshelf right in front of me, shaking the whole thing up and making it bang against the wall behind it. Heavy hardcover books rained from the shelves, hitting the parquet floor with loud thuds.

Completely immersed in the pleasure the Jersey man was giving me, I failed to notice the danger I was in, of a book striking my head and knocking me out cold. I only realized that situation when all of a sudden Kyley-B had the whole weight of his upper body against my back, his harsh breathing on my neck sending shivers down my spine while his arm moved at the speed of light to backhand a falling book out of its path towards our bodies, sending it flying a few feet away like it was nothing. He hissed between his teeth, likely from the pain of the smack, but didn’t voice any complaints besides that, his pounding against me not faltering for even a second.

I adored the new sensation. Though I was almost fully trapped against the library cart, him leaning on top of me like this was strangely comforting, seeing all of that oppressive strength being used for my protection. Kyley-B clearly took care of what was his, and at that moment, that’s exactly what I was.

Best as I could, I sneaked one of my arms over my shoulder, my hand clumsily grabbing a fistful of his gelled up hair. He grunted roughly against my neck, apparently not used to being touched like that - maybe it was usually the other way around - but making no move to stop my awkward attempt at a caress either. His thrusts slowed a bit as he stayed like this for a moment or two, before he straightened his posture back up with his chest away from my back and gave my ass another slap, picking up speed again - maybe that was his way of taking for himself the smallest bit of control over the situation I held for a bit.

Not that I minded. Him taking charge was all that I wanted at that moment. Not a single useful thought graced my brain while he fucked me senseless, all of my neurons hyper-aware of how his cock felt when it pushed against the most sensitive spots inside of me and not much else. Everything was Kyley-B, the world around us irrelevant, merely a void environment that could absorb all of my moans and screams of pleasure, as well as the squelching and slapping noises of his thrusts, with no repercussion. Even the swear words he grunted every so often now sounded like music to me; because it came from a place of intense pleasure, which I was giving him, so he could curse as much as he wanted near me as long as he’d do it in that lascivious tone.

Kyley’s thrusts became even quicker and more erratic, as if he couldn’t bear to have a single inch of himself not buried inside of me for any amount of time. He bullied my walls and my cervix with wild abandon, and I felt myself tensing up under his chest, my toes curling against the hardwood floor as my body braced for the impact of the release that his cock was about to give to me.

He noticed the physical aspects of my buildup and a hoarse chuckle cut through the sounds of his hips slapping against me. “Gonna cum for me now, are ya, babe?” He murmured huskily, giving the lightest of taps to my ass, an action that felt weirdly reassuring. “Told ya it was gonna be better with my cock… Go on, let me see ya…”

My eyes rolled almost to the back of my head and I let out a cry that made my whole throat quiver as the most intense orgasm of my life crashed on me like a tsunami, my spine arching and making my upper body press even more against the cart under me. While I whimpered and trembled through the ripples of pleasure in my system, Kyley-B grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back some more as he used the newfound reins to jackhammer into me with my cunt clamping fiercely against his cock, trying to make it a permanent attachment to my body - a very smart decision on its part, really.

Despite riding my climax out to the fullest, I did not get any time to catch my breath - Kyley-B’s attack on my walls had already started to cross the line into overstimulation, making me whimper from the continuing massage on the extra sensitive region, before he suddenly withdrew from me. Although I already had way too much everything considered, that action surprisingly made me legitimately angry for half a second - I missed him inside of me. His breathing shook and faltered while thick jets spilled over my ass and lower back, his seed warm against my skin.

As he came down from his high and his breathing became more steady, I heard him reach inside of his pocket again, then felt the slightly rough sensation of lace being rubbed against me - he was cleaning up his release with the very same panties he tore away. Seemed thorough about it, too, as he took his time and by the end of it I didn’t feel sticky anymore. Yet, the knowledge of what we did had painted my body forever, the warm sensation still very much psychologically present, even if I was physically ‘clean’.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him stuff the panties in his pocket. The normal confusion I’d exhibit if seeing such an act did not grace my features, either because I was too fucked out to care or because I actually liked it.

He tucked his softening cock back inside of his boxers and closed the buttons and belt on his jeans before leaning towards me again, this time to put his nose to the side of my neck, inhaling my scent sharply while his arms wrapped around my waist.

”Did so fucking well for me, baby. You were so damn good.” Kyley-B whispered against my skin, his voice once more taking that less rowdy tone I heard earlier. Hearing it again, in a full sentence this time, sent shivers down my spine - different shivers from the ones that had coursed through my body earlier. Like I could catch a glimpse of the man behind the fake tan. He made sure to leave one tiny nip at my skin before pressing a kiss right on top of that region - a surprisingly soft kiss, like he was now trying to be careful with me.

He stayed like this for a little more before straightening up again and letting go of my body, giving my ass one last playful slap, chuckling as he watched it jiggle. “You’re the real deal, Y/N,” the Jersey playboy voice was back at full force, “Let’s go out sometime. I’ll call you.”

Which was a weird thing to say, considering I hadn’t given him my number at all, but for some reason I just knew that was the least of his problems. He knew where I worked. He’d find a way, and I’d give him as much direction as I could for that.

As soon as I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, my knees gave in, and I fell right on them, letting the library cart hit the now much less packed bookcase a final time. My hands clung to the side of it with what little strength I had in my body, that still felt like it was made of jelly. I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, the exhaustion from the unfamiliar ‘exercise’ getting to me. Dozens of books laid around me on the floor, waiting to be put back in their places, but I decided to just make that a problem for future me, instead choosing to let my muscles catch a break.

When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to return, alone, to the reception desk, I realized I was in deep shit. Every single set of eyes in the location turned to me, wide and horrified; apparently, the whole time I was with Kyley-B back there, my clients at the library were frozen in place listening to the whole thing. I tried to avoid my shame by looking elsewhere, but then my eyes rested on a decorative piece of mirrored glass at the wall; I could now see myself clearly. My hair was messed up beyond belief from all of Kyley-B’s pulling, my whole makeup was smudged - with special attention to the huge pink blur of lipstick around my very kiss-swollen lips -, my shirt was creased everywhere. Not to mention that now my underwear was hanging out in a New Jersey man’s pocket, leaving me totally commando. And I had a few more hours of my shift ahead of me.

It didn’t affect me as much as it should.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Surprisingly enough, I did not get fired from my job after that. My guess was they knew they couldn’t find anyone else who could put up with the extra work that had nothing to do with my appointed position, not for the money I was paid. So I got to stay.

What did happen was the influx of people at the library augmented significantly. This did not mean a proportional increase in the number of books checked out, however - it just meant way too many people were suddenly interested in Latin Literature, and my workplace became a lot noisier.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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tswaney17 · 9 months ago

Text

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 49

It's here!!! The final part of this massive fic. 😭 I can't believe we're finally at the end. I'm still in shock that I get to close the door on this fic that has taken up the last three years of my life. I have so many emotions running through me right now. 🥺

The epilogue will be posted during @elriel-month in addition to a little surprise I'm so excited to share with you. Stay tuned!! 💜💙💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. ��

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

This part also features descriptions of birth and complications from it.

Word Count: 7,225

Elain had spent a good portion of the late morning getting ready for the baby shower scheduled for noon. At just over eight months pregnant, they were cutting close to the wire of the twins’ arrival.

She was beyond exhausted. Growing the babies was work enough, but she ached everywhere at this point. Her boobs, her hips, her ankles. Her back…that hurt the worst. She looked like she swallowed two extra large watermelons. Elain hadn’t seen her feet in two and half months and she was praying that her toenails looked well enough for sandals today.

On top of her aching body, she also slept like shit the night before, having woken up in the wee hours with Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to never want to go away. They were getting obnoxious at this point.

Oh! And her boobs had already started leaking. Aside from the contractions, Elain also woke up to a soaked sleep shirt and an attitude that poor Azriel was desperately trying to keep calm. She felt bad that her irritation got directed at him, but he took her mood swings in stride, giving her the space when she needed it, and focusing on taking care of Kaden and getting him ready for the party.

Her husband knocked lightly before entering their bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it when he saw her standing there in an ugly pair of panties and a strapless bra—which she had no idea how it was going to hold up her tits, but here they were. “Hello, my love. How are you doing?” he asked, striding further into their room. He was already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was one of her favorite looks on him. Casual but classy and sexy as hell.

“I’m all right. Better than this morning,” which was true. In the time she took to get ready, she felt her irritation slowly dissipate. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

He gifted her a soft smile he reserved only for her and their children. “El, you’re carrying two babies. You’re allowed to let out your frustrations. I’m here to spar if you need it, you know that.”

She knew he meant spar as in letting her yell and shout and hiss words until she felt better while he just took it. Gods, he really was the perfect husband. Elain held out her coco butter lotion towards him. “Do you mind rubbing this on me and helping me dress?”

Azriel took the bottle from her outstretched hands, dropping a sweet kiss on her plump lips before squirting some into his scarred palms and gently rubbing it all over her swollen stomach. He knelt before her, dutifully getting every inch of her covered. “You are so beautiful, Elain,” he murmured, kissing her at the fullest part of her belly.

She snorted. “I am a beached whale who ate too much.”

“You are a gorgeous woman carrying life inside of her womb. That will always be beautiful, sweetheart.”

How he always knew what to say was beyond her, but she tugged him up off the ground to kiss him thoroughly. It should’ve annoyed her with how just a few sweeps of Azriel’s tongue had every concern and irritation simply melt away. He knew when to play that card and fuck did he play it well.

But even his tongue couldn’t stop the hiss of pain as another contraction wracked her body.

He immediately pulled back at the sound, eyes scanning her face. “Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into the tone.

She breathed through the wave that tightened in her abdomen. “Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said as an explanation.

His brows shot into his hairline. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

Elain reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb swiping over the stubble there. “No, it’s a normal thing this late in the pregnancy. I’ve had a few this morning starting before dawn. It’s why I was grouchy.”

Understanding lit his face and he carefully ran his hand down her stomach again. “Why didn’t you wake me this morning?”

She huffed a laugh. “Because I knew you’d go into full-birthing-dad-mode and neither one of us would’ve slept any longer.”

Azriel shot her an unamused glare. “You will be thanking me for that birthing-dad mode when you’re in labor and I have everything packed up within minutes.”

This time Elain laughed loud and joyfully. “Yes, you’re probably right.” She nodded to the dress on the bed. “Help me slip that on?”

He grabbed the fabric, bunching it in his large fists, and pulled it over her head. It was an off-the-shoulder, loose, pale pink cotton dress, decorated with roses. It looked vintage, gathering just under her bust, with oversized puffy sleeves that sat off her shoulders, over her biceps. Ruffles accentuated the bottom hem, emphasizing the vintage style. It was the perfect spring dress. When Elain first saw it at the store, she knew she had to buy it for the shower.

Azriel tugged her loose curls from the back of the dress, letting them brush against her spine. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder before grabbing the rose-pendant necklace he bought to go with the dress and draping it around her delicate neck. “Perfect,” he murmured onto her skin, his smile pressing against her neck.

Elain sighed softly, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair. “How am I still horny for you?”

He nipped at her throat, a rumble shaking his chest. “Because you know I can deliver what you need without even blinking.”

This time she laughed, letting his hands run across her body in possessive little touches.

Azriel brazenly cupped her sex through the dress, growling as she let out a mewling sound and began to writhe against those skilled fingers, searching for the friction she desperately craved. “Would you like to fuck my hand, love?” he murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.

Elain fell slack against him, letting his strength hold her up. “Az,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub her in earnest. “Please.”

He nipped the curve of her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. “You beg so prettily, El.” Bunching up the dress in a fist, Azriel slid her panties aside, swiping his fingers over her soaked pussy. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me. Always desperate for my touch.”

She gripped him, nails digging into his exposed forearms. “I need—I need,” she panted out, wiggling in his hold. “Please, Az.”

Giving her exactly what she wanted—needed—Azriel sunk his middle finger into her aching cunt, pumping once before adding a second digit. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, thrusting in and out of her. The heel of his palm grazed her clit sending bolts of pleasure up her spine.

Elain bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to burst from her. His fingers scraped along that special spot inside of her, building her up and up and up until she teetered on the edge of bliss.

Barely conscious of her surroundings, Elain caught the sound of the door handle jiggling, followed by a “Momma!”

Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth as he continued his machinations. “Momma’s getting dressed, Kaden. We’ll be out in a minute,” he called out, pressing his palm firmly on her clit and sending her spiraling into her orgasm.

Too far gone to care, she tumbled into sweet oblivion, coming hard on his fingers. Elain moaned, only quieted by the muffling against her husband’s scarred hand.

He worked her through her release, slowing his movements when she started to come down from her high. Az peppered her skin with sweet kisses, removing his fingers from her pussy and readjusting her panties back into place before letting the dress fall back down. “Better, my love?”

“I’m gonna have to change my underwear, but yes.” She twisted in his arms, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Elain brought his mouth down to hers, tongue licking the drop of her release dotting his bottom lip. “Thank you, husband.”

He smiled into their kiss, deepening it once more. “I’ll go check on Kaden while you finish up. We’ll head out when you’re done.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on their way to Rhys and Feyre’s place. It was a gorgeous day full of sunshine, the air warm with the oncoming of summer. It was as if even the Mother wanted to grace her presence on that day with her radiance. They really couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day for a baby shower.

“Momma?” Kaden called from the back seat. “Where are we going?”

His speech had improved so much since they first brought him home that the therapist they hired had told them after the end of the school year, that he likely wouldn’t need to continue seeing a specialist to catch him up. He was reading and writing the way a five-year-old should be and was on track to pass kindergarten with flying colors.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Remember how we talked about going to Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys’s for the baby shower today.”

He seemed to think about that. “What’s a baby shower?”

Her lips quirked up at his curious mind. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked about where babies came from again. “It’s a party to celebrate the upcoming arrival of your brother and sister.” Her hand came to rest on her belly instinctively.

His face scrunched up. “Will I have to take a bath again?”

Azriel let out a snort, glancing at her. “It’s a fair question.”

She laughed. “No, sweetheart. Not that kind of shower. To shower with love. The party is just to celebrate the babies before they arrive.”

“Will there be cake?” he asked, excitement lighting up his face at the prospect of sweets.

“For my sister’s sake, there better be.” Elain’s late-stage pregnancy craving was anything sweet. Cookies, cakes, pastries, whatever she could get her hands on, she was eating it. Azriel was barely able to keep the pantry stocked with desserts for her to snack on.

Her husband chuckled. “If she doesn’t, we’ll stop by a bakery on our way home and get each of you a cake. How’s that sound?” he asked, grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.

She grinned. “You spoil me.”

He looked at her then. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

They were fashionably late to their baby shower, and Elain completely blamed her husband’s morning sexual charade for the delay in their arrival. Not that she minded at all. She had another Braxton Hick contraction in the car, Azriel eying her with worry and once again asking if they should make a pitstop at the hospital just in case.

But that would’ve made them even more late and Elain knew it was unnecessary.

All of their friends and family were waiting for their arrival. And she hated being late.

“What am I going to do with you gone for six months, Elain?” Thesan teased, taking a sip of his beer.

She shot a devilish grin at the head nurse sitting on the couch across from her. “I’m sure Viv would love to pick up all the slack.”

Viviane squawked in outrage and pointed a menacing finger in her direction. “Don’t put your work on me while you’re enjoying your babymoon, Elain Archeron-Knight.”

The group laughed as she pushed herself up off the couch. Another contraction hit her and she winced, catching the attention of the sharp-eyed nurse. But before she could ask, Kaden came bounding up to her, tugging on the skirt of her dress.

“Momma, can I have a cake pop?” He looked up at her with those damn puppy eyes he knew she couldn’t resist.

Elain ran a hand through his hair. “Sure, sweetie. Only one. You don’t want to spoil your appetite for Uncle Cassian’s good barbeque.”

Said uncle was out in the backyard tending to the grill with her husband, Rhys, and the Moonbeam brothers because, apparently, that’s where men gathered. Aelin and Rowan had joined them, the former getting an eyebrow raise from Azriel at her company’s appearance.

She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to perhaps score one of those cake pops herself—she was the guest of honor, surely she could snag one too. Feyre, Nuala, and Cerridwen had been busy putting together the final touches for lunch and were just waiting for Cassian’s proteins to serve food.

But just as she reached the breakfast bar, a wave of excruciating pain washed over her. Catching herself on the counter, Elain gripped the side of her stomach, groaning loud enough that the other room went silent. And then she felt it. Liquid surged between her legs, puddling the floor beneath her.

No. No, it was too soon. They couldn’t be coming already.

Viviane rounded the corner from the living room as Feyre and the twins approached her.

Somebody breathed her name, but she couldn’t decipher who it was over the blood rushing in her ears.

More footsteps sounded as her friends and family came from the living room to see what was going on.

“Elain.” It was Feyre’s voice that broke through the fog of fear that had clouded her, but she was too numb to respond. Too nervous. “Somebody get Azriel!”

Her panic grew and her breathing turned shallow. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared enough. The anxiety of giving birth hit her like a freight train.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t.

~~~~~

Azriel took a swig of his beer, rolling his eyes at the cad comment Rhys made. His tanned skin warmed in the sunlight even with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. With a glance at the large window, he caught Elain rising from her spot on the couch, Kaden gripping her dress to speak with her.

Gods, that fucking dress. Elain looked like a maternal goddess in it, emphasizing her swollen belly, brimming with the life of his children. Az never realized he had a breeding kink until he and Elain got back together. His desire to fill her with his seed, to watch her grow with life had him hardening in his pants.

Now at eight months, she had reached the stage where little things irked the hell out of her. Honestly, her temper was cute as hell, but he tried to be considerate of her exhaustion and short-fuse, offering himself up to take the heat of her ire. It was only fair—he’s the one that got her pregnant.

It may have made him a primitive, alpha-douchebag, but fuck did he love to see her waddling around, pregnant and barefoot in their home. She was already such a wonderful mother to their boy, Kaden. Cassian had been right. He was so incredibly grateful for Elain’s maternal instinct.

“Something caught your eye, brother?” Cassian taunted, grinning. His brother knew exactly what he was looking at. Or whom.

He shot him a dry look that had Cash chuckling.

“If she wasn’t already pregnant, I’d say that look alone could’ve knocked her up,” he teased. “Who knew you had such a kink, Az.”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort, but the sliding glass door opening caught his attention.

Nuala peeked her head out, a worried look on her face that had his stomach tightening in knots. “Azriel! Get in here now!”

But he was already moving, dropping his drink on the table and running after her into the house, his brothers and friends hot on his heels. He froze in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the scene for a split second before his eyes settled on Elain bent over the counter, a puddle of clear liquid beneath her.

His feet ate up the space between them in three long strides, her name falling from his lips as he cupped her face and forced her gaze on his. Azriel prided himself in knowing exactly what Elain was feeling, what she was thinking by just the look on her face. He read her better than he did himself. So, seeing the blatant apprehension and worry written as clearly as a tattoo on her forehead had his heart racing in his chest.

Her eyes were wet with the tears he could tell she was trying to hold back.

“Love,” he said quietly, unsure how to proceed at the moment.

She blinked like hearing him cleared a bit of the fog that had washed over her. “Azriel.” Her voice cracked.

He folded her into his arms, trying to soothe whatever worries were troubling her. “You’re okay, my love.”

Elain seemed to melt in his embrace, her tension slowly ebbing away the longer he held her. He gave her whatever time she needed, ignoring the audience they had around them, but it was long enough for another contraction to hit. She cried out, gripping his hand in hers and squeezing tight.

Viviane snapped into action at that. “Azriel, her contractions are about nine minutes apart now. She’s going to have at least two more by the time you reach the hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Elain growled.

That had him pulling back to look down at her. “El, the babies are coming—”

“No. Hospitals.” He could see the wavering in her face. “I—,” she paused, hesitating. “They’re not ready. It’s too early. Too soon. They can’t come out yet…” Her head fell until she was looking at the wetness still sitting on the floor. “I’m not ready,” Elain whispered so quietly, that he almost missed it.

Azriel knew that was nerves speaking. While Kaden made them parents, the idea of giving birth to the twins was the primary source of her fear. The books he read said that many expectant mothers experienced this type of anxiety right around the time they went into labor. If they were going to have any success in her having a smooth birth, Azriel needed to get her to calm down. He glanced at Cassian. “Can you get her a chair?”

His brother grabbed one from the dining room, setting it out for Az to carefully guide Elain into. He knelt in front of her, keeping her hands clasped firmly in his. “Elain, sweetheart,” her dark eyes latched onto his, needing to hear his reassurance. He kept his voice low, wishing they didn’t have to have this conversation in front of their friends and family.

Rhys seemed to sense that and began ushering people out of the room. “Let’s give the couple a few minutes.”

He shot his brother a grateful look before returning his attention to Elain. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I know it’s earlier than we were expecting. But if there is one thing that I am certain of is that you can do this.” He squeezed her hands in comfort. “You are the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much that once all is said and done, you’re going to look at me and tell me that this was the easy part. I promise you that if anyone can do this, it’s you. And I will be right by your side for every step, holding your hand, giving you ice chips, and bearing whatever you need me to bear to bring our children into the world.”

She sniffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt, Elain. You can do this.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing her fingers and letting her absorb whatever confidence she needed. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to have our babies, love?”

Elain huffed a laugh, his words settling the nerves she had. “Yes, let’s go have our babies,” she breathed, her grin taking over her entire face, lasting all of thirty seconds before a look of panic took root once more. “Az, the birthing bag is still at the house.”

He let out an undignified snort. “Do you think after having that contraction in front of me this morning, I’d leave the house without having absolutely everything packed and ready to go? Come on, baby, you know me better than that. It’s all in the back of the car.”

She blinked in surprise. “The birthing bag and my pillow?”

“In the car,” he confirmed.

“Kaden’s overnight bag?”

“In the car.”

“The car seats for the twins?”

He scoffed. “You know I installed those weeks ago, try again.”

Her lips quired up at the corner. “What about the slippers I was wearing this morning?” she asked, thinking she had him.

Az rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. “I grabbed them when I snagged the birthing bag.” He kissed her hands again. “I’ve got you, love.”

And then she was leaning forward, kissing him with so much love and devotion, he felt it down to the soul she brought back to life. The sound of their family’s cheers forced them apart, a pretty blush dusting the tops of Elain’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare look away from him.

Without looking away from her, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Rhys. “Can you grab Kaden’s bag from the trunk? The one with dinosaurs. And then Elain’s purple one as well.”

Elain’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why is he grabbing mine?”

His lips pulled up into a knowing grin, brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “I thought you might like to change your underwear and put on a maternity pad for the ride to the hospital.”

Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement.

A little body shuffled closer. “Momma?” Kaden murmured, looking so very worried over the state of his mother.

She held her arms out, motioning him forward. “C’mere sweetheart.” Elain tucked him into her chest, kissing the top of his head. “You’re going to stay here with Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys while Daddy and I go to the hospital to have your brother and sister.”

He looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and damn, the kid knew how to work them. “But I want to go with you!” His lower lip quivered and Azriel could tell he was on the verge of tears.

But his wife took it in stride, cupping his little face in her palms and swiping her thumbs across his cheeks. “I know, sweetheart. I know you do. But you’ll have a much better time here with your aunt and uncle. Momma’s not going to be fun to be around until your siblings are here.” She kissed his plump cheek. “But I promise that you will be the first to see us once they arrive. Okay?”

Feyre stepped forward, reaching out a hand for their son. “Come on, Kaden. We’ll have lots of fun eating all the desserts left over.” She shot them a wink when he finally relented, taking her fingers.

After cleaning her up as best as he could and getting her a maternity pad from her bag, he and Elain were in the car on the way to the hospital. As Viviane predicted, she had two more contractions on the way, grabbing his offered hand and the “oh shit” bar as she groaned her way through it. And then promptly went into a third one right as they arrived.

Az timed them out, still sitting about nine minutes apart. “Breathe, baby. Good, love. Just like that.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand. Her grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but he didn’t dare let his face flinch or show an ounce of discomfort. She needed his strength and that’s exactly what he was going to give her.

They were immediately escorted to their private room and Elain’s vitals were checked over. She was sitting at only two centimeters dilated, which meant they were looking at being there for a bit.

Between her contractions, he swapped out his clothes for a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to get more comfortable and then sent a text to their siblings to notify them that they were in and settled, but it would be a while before they would have any progress.

“Can you check in with Kaden?” Elain asked, taking a scoop of ice chips from her cup.

The corner of his lips curled up at the question. “I already did. Feyre said he wouldn’t leave the front window for a while and had to persuade him with his baby cousin and a lot of sweet treats.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “He’s going to have a mouth full of cavities before we get home.” Elain twisted to look at him. “Do you think we made the right decision by not letting him come with us? It sounds like he’s waiting for us to return. I know that some families let their little ones be present for the birth of their siblings and we discussed it—”

He interrupted her train of thought. “I think we made the right call, love. We’re going to be here for a while and we both know that things can upset him. I don’t know how well he’d handle watching you go through that.”

She nodded but didn’t look very convinced.

Azriel reached for her hand, covering it with his own and squeezing her fingers. “He’s safe and well-cared for. Remember that while we focus on bringing his little brother and sister into the world.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles in a sweet kiss.

Elain smiled softly at him. “Okay.”

And so, they waited.

Per his wife’s birthing plan, she wanted to attempt to go natural. Azriel admired her strength and resilience in doing so. But after over sixteen hours of hard labor, he could see her resolve fading.

He stroked her cheek, fingers brushing hair behind her ear. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Dark circles already lined the underneath part of her eyes. She looked so weary. “I’m so tired, Az.” Her voice came out nearly broken and fuck if that didn’t just rip his beating heart from his chest.

Kissing her forehead, he murmured, “Do you want to get the epidural? It’ll help you get some much-needed rest before the delivery.” As of now, she was only at seven centimeters and the doctor had said it could still be a while longer until she reached a full ten.

Her chin dipped in confirmation. “Please.”

Azriel didn’t waste time calling for the nurse. Within ten minutes, he watched as a grossly large needle was inserted into her back, sending that relief washing over her. He peppered her face with kisses during the procedure, murmuring words of praise and comfort in her ear as she gritted her teeth through it.

Elain spent the next eight hours in a fitful sleep, dosing off and waking up not long after each time. Azriel didn’t bother to try and sleep, not when she wasn’t really getting much at all.

But finally, after just past nine, she was fully dilated and ready to push.

His wife pushed and pushed and pushed for a half hour with nothing to show for it. She was in tears, frustrated, and so exhausted he was practically supporting all her weight having slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“I can’t, I can’t,” she sobbed, half burying her face into his chest.

“You can, love. You’re so strong. Just a little bit more,” he tried to reassure her. It fucking killed him to see her like this.

“Can’t you do it for me?” she pleaded, looking up at him with wild, desperate eyes.

He gripped her cheek in his palm, kissing her temple. “You know I would, El. I would give anything to switch places with you right now. But I know you can do this. Just a few more pushes and then they’ll be here.”

Whatever she read within his words seemed to do the trick, her brows furrowing with a determination he hadn’t seen since they left the house. Elain pushed herself up, trying to get into a kneeling position, and he was right there, sliding behind her and supporting her weight.

The nurses squawked, muttering something about hospital policy, but frankly, he did not give a fuck, snarling, “Her body is telling her to push like this. Listen to your fucking patient.”

Changing the position was exactly what she needed because their son was born within the next two contractions, entering the world with a healthy set of lungs.

They sagged back against the pillows, his face wet with tears as they placed their new baby directly on Elain’s bared chest. He couldn’t stop himself from tipping her head back to kiss her softly on the lips, pausing the savor the moment.

Az traced the pads of his fingers over the curve of their boy’s cheek, just needing to touch him to prove he was here with them. Even covered in fluids, he was so beautiful. The perfect blend of the two of them.

The nurses gave them just a few minutes with the first baby before Doctor Chen said that she needed to start pushing again. She took their boy from Elain’s arms, promising to bring him back for Azriel after he was cleaned up and their daughter was born.

Delivery of their little girl went easier than with their son. But whereas their boy came out crying, their daughter came out silent.

Azriel knew something was wrong just by the silence, but it only grew the anxiety in his stomach when the doctor turned her back on them, taking their little one with her to work on.

“She’s not crying,” Elain breathed, worry clouding her voice.

He could only squeeze her shoulders in comfort, watching as they shoved things into her nose and mouth.

“Suction,” Chen ordered.

“Azriel, why isn’t she crying?”

“She’s going to be okay, love. They’re helping her. She’s okay.” The words passed his lips even as his heart dropped into his stomach when they started doing compressions on her tiny body.

No.

This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t lose her. It would kill him to lose his little girl, but Elain, fuck, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the devastation she would face at this loss. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pay to fix this or threaten someone to save their baby girl.

So, he did what any father would do.

He prayed.

He prayed to every god, every deity, everything, and anything he could think of to keep his little girl safe and bring her back to them. To take her place if they demanded it. A life for a life. He’d pay it for his child, his family. “Come on,” he murmured. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Elain curved her face into the side of his chest, howling in a way he’d never heard from her before.

His arms went around her, that dreaded feeling turning his blood cold. The terror he felt of their little one dead before she lived was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But still, he did not stop praying, clutching Elain’s shaking body to his. “Come on, little one. Come on!” he chanted. “Please.”

And then, a rattled cough tore from her tiny body, followed by the sweet, beautiful sound of her cry.

Elain’s wail turned into relieved sobs, as the doctor walked over their bundled little girl and placed her into his wife’s awaiting arms.

“Somebody was just so excited to meet you, she took a breath a little too early, but we cleared out her passages and lungs and she looks good now.”

His wife tucked their daughter into her chest, kissing the top of her head. “Hi sweet girl, Momma’s here,” she whispered, tears still falling down her cheeks. Tears that matched the ones running down his face.

She was here. His baby girl. Fuck, she looked just like him, with dark hair and tanned skin. He hadn’t gotten a look at her eyes yet, but already she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here you go, Mr. Archeron-Knight,” one of the other nurses said, pulling his attention from his wife and daughter as she handed him his son, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket.

The small bundle was gently laid in the crook of his elbow. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever feel the amount of love he did on Kaden’s adoption day, but sitting here with his gorgeous wife, holding their newborn twins, he felt his heart soar in his chest.

Sweaty and fatigued, Elain glanced up at his face, the sweetest, exhausted smile pulling on her lips. “I love you,” she murmured.

He let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob. “I love you more.” And then he kissed her, sealing that moment in time with his undying love for her.

~~~~~

Elain woke to the sound of a whimpering cry, swiftly followed by Azriel’s low voice.

“Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong, huh?” She heard some shuffling as her husband lifted their daughter from the nursery bed. “Momma needs her sleep so we need to be quiet.” He kept his voice low enough to not disturb her—fuck she loved him so much—but she was already awake, rolling over in the hospital bed to face him.

Azriel holding his children was, hands down, the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. How she could even feel the need for him after pushing two babies out of her currently aching and severely injured body was beyond her, but just watching him bounce their fussing daughter made all those desires come roaring to the surface.

Almost as if he could sense her presence, hazel eyes slid to hers. “I’ve got her, love. Go back to sleep.” His voice remained soft as night as if anything louder would disturb her.

She curled up on her side, watching him. “I think we should get used to no sleep now.”

He huffed a laugh, patting Rosalie on her back as she further settled into the crook of his elbow.

Their daughter was almost two pounds smaller than her brother, coming in right at five whereas Ryder was a healthy six pounds, fourteen ounces. The doctor was a little concerned over Rosalie’s lower birth weight, but Elain had managed to get both babies to latch and feed earlier and she ate well, so they were mainly playing it by ear.

Because of her smaller size, Azriel already placed an order for some preemie clothes and sent a photo of her with the twins to their siblings. They asked to give them a day to recuperate before coming to the hospital in the morning. After the scare with Rosalie, both she and Azriel wanted to take some time to spend with the babies. Plus, the medical team was in and out of their room, taking Rosalie for some additional tests just to be sure everything looked good.

It was just after seven that night, and they were settling in for the evening. Tired of hospital food, Azriel ordered hamburgers from DoorDash for them to eat. Elain was starving and it sounded so good that she drooled when she suggested it to him. Both babies had been fed only an hour earlier and she anticipated not having another feeding till late evening or early morning.

Elain grabbed whatever sleep she could, knowing she’d need it when they were released in a couple of days, but she was sure Azriel hadn’t slept a wink since she’d gone into labor.

She pushed herself up, reclining on her pillows. The nurses cleaned her after the delivery and stitched her up from tearing, but Elain couldn’t wait to get home and take a proper shower. “Does she need to be changed?” she asked, nodding to the now-sleeping baby in her husband’s arms.

Azriel shook his head. “No, I think she was just fussing.” His dark hair was still mussed up from when he stripped out of his shirt earlier, taking time for skin-to-skin contact with each of the twins.

Elain had to rein in her laugh at how the nurse blushed as he revealed miles of gloriously tanned, tattooed skin and corded muscle. Her husband was a fine specimen, but he never flaunted it, so seeing another woman react to it was humorous especially since he didn’t even seem to notice her blushing, stammering state.

“You should sleep too, Az,” she said instead.

He looked at her, his lips curving up. It had been doing that a lot since the birth of the twins. The sweetest, smallest smile that crept up the corners of his mouth. Almost as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was utterly adorable and made him look younger. “I’ll rest later. You need it more than me.”

Her shoulders shook in amusement. “You know, we can sleep when they do.”

“I just don’t want to miss a second of them.” His attention returned to his little girl who already had him wrapped around her finger. To be fair, all of their children did. “Fuck, I can’t believe they’re here already. It seems like it was only a month ago you found out you were pregnant.”

“I can’t believe our first anniversary is coming up in just a handful of weeks.”

At that, he laughed. “I guess a trip for our anniversary is out of the question?”

She grinned. “Not unless all our little ones are coming with us.” Because like hell was she going to be able to leave them so soon. Plus with her nursing, it just wouldn’t be ideal.

He seemed to consider her. “We could take the jet to the Summer District. Kaden will be out of school then and we’ll both still be out on leave. Just a thought.”

Gods, he was fucking perfect. “That might be nice.”

A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. He frowned in confusion, looking at her.

Elain shrugged, sitting up further on her bed. “Come in,” she called out.

She thought it might be a nurse or a doctor, coming to check on her or the twins. What she didn’t expect was for Rhys to peek his head into the room. Surprise lit her features and she glanced at Azriel, who looked equally as bewildered at the sudden visit from their brother.

“Hey,” Rhys said. “I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but somebody really couldn’t wait till tomorrow to see you.” He opened the door slightly, revealing Kaden clutching a teddy bear, eyes puffy and red from crying.

Her heart ached at the distress their son must’ve been in for Rhys to come all the way here. “Hello sweetheart,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Come here, my love.”

He took a small step further into the room, Rhys’s hand guiding him at the backside of his head. Kaden took slow steps as he approached the side of her bed. “Momma, are you sick?”

She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. “No, baby. I’m not sick. Your brother and sister decided it was time to come out of my tummy.” Her eyes found Azriel’s as he rose from his seat on the couch, moving toward them. “Would you like to meet them?” she asked, returning her gaze to Kaden’s.

His head dipped in confirmation.

Elain pushed herself back even more. “Rhys, can you help him up and then grab me that flat pillow over there.”

He set the boy on the bed between her spread legs, Kaden shuffling backward and bumping into her sensitive lower area.

She hissed out in pain before she could stop herself. A wave of agony washed over her with enough intensity that her stomach curdled with nausea.

Azriel reacted immediately. “Easy, buddy. Momma’s going to be sore for a while and we need to be extra careful with her.”

“I’m okay,” she spoke quickly, not wanting to upset Kaden any more than he already was, and kissed his plump cheek as she breathed through the pain. “Okay, Rhys. Place the pillow over our laps.”

Adjusting his arms in preparation, Azriel gently lowered their daughter until she comfortably rested on the nursing pillow.

“Kaden, this is your sister, Rosalie,” he announced, letting his finger stroke her rounded cheek.

Elain couldn’t see his face directly, but she did catch his eyes widening as he stared down at her, his fingers carefully tracing over her delicate features just as his father did.

“Rosawee,” he said, not quite catching the ending syllable. It would be something they would have to work on. When she kicked a leg within her swaddle, he pulled his hand back, startled.

She laughed, feeling the bed dip as Azriel sat down next to them, bringing over their son. “And this is your brother, Ryder.”

He reached out to trace the outline of his brows, the touch gentle and exploratory. “I’m a brother?” he asked, turning his head to look up at her.

“That’s right sweetheart. You’re their big brother, and they’re going to love you so much,” she told him, kissing the top of his head.

Elain took in her family, her incredible husband, and three beautiful children. It sounded so wild to even think about. She was a wife and a mother. Thinking back, she remembered the day that had changed the trajectory of her life forever. The bank robbery a few years back. It was crazy to think how such a terrifying moment altered her life in the best of ways. It brought her back to the love of her life.

It put her on this very path.

She’d face every one of the moments since then tenfold as long as it brought her to this point in time, sitting here with her gorgeous little family.

“Perfect.”

She looked up at Rhys, catching him with his phone out.

“Your first family photo.”

Her lips turned up and silver lined her eyes. “Thank you, Rhys.”

He waved her off. “Do you want me to take Kaden back with me?”

“No,” Azriel said, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “He can stay here with us tonight. Can you put his booster seat in our car? The keys are in my bag.”

“You got it.” He grabbed the keys but paused on the threshold. “And congratulations you guys. Rosalie and Ryder are beautiful.”

Azriel leaned further into her side, kissing her temple. “Thank you, brother.” Once alone, he turned her head toward his, bringing her mouth to his for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you so damn much, Elain.”

His smile was infectious, making her lips turn up at the corners. “Thank you, Azriel, for giving me this life—these babies. You have made me the happiest I could ever imagine. I love you.”

“Momma! She’s got my finger,” Kaden’s giggle interrupted their moment.

They laughed, looking at their three beautiful children.

Elain knew that this perfect moment was just the very beginning of the rest of their lives.

~~~~~

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greenbloodvulcan · 2 years ago

Photo

Logan runs into a certain passenger more than once. She gets under his skin.

A/N: I change POV’s based on vibes only so sorry if this is hard to read :(

Word count: 3,427

It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing for him, had it just been that once. He’d have forgotten about her the very next day; his appreciation of both her silence and her relative sobriety level would have been no more than a fleeting observation. It would have continued on just the same. Dry heat, dust, drink, and a deep nothingness that blankets every second of every day. His life was never going to be fucking sunshine and rainbows; his DNA made damn sure of that. He bears it all for Charles- the monotony. The obnoxious passengers who reeked of drink more than he did; who slurred professions of love and insisted that, no, they did not need him to pull over, they hadn’t even had that much. He wasn’t sure who he found worse- the drunks or the socially inept who talked his ear off like he looked like someone who gave a shit.

So it’s a relief when she slides into the backseat with mostly clear eyes and a small smile, meeting his gaze in the rearview. The smell of alcohol is faint, and though he’s parked outside a strip of bars at 11 at night, he notices the scrubs and the bag she tosses in beside her. He confirms her name and she nods with a soft “yes”. He waits until he hears the click of the seatbelt before pulling away from the curb, nothing but the radio and the hum of the engine surrounding them. She doesn’t tap away at her phone incessantly, feeling the need to feign busyness to fill the silence that is to be expected between two complete strangers. She just leans her head on the window, the bright lights of the nighttime landscape flashing across her face. He doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t ask him about his day or talk about how the weather is finally cooling down or something else equally as meaningless. He keeps his eyes on the road the rest of the drive, the same highway signs and landmarks he’s memorized fading in his periphery.

It takes maybe 15 minutes to pull off the road into a small apartment complex. It’s dead silent at this hour, and she directs him to the left and points at a set of stairs beneath one of the light posts that actually works. “Right here is fine. Thank you-” she pauses and looks down at her phone, “Logan. I appreciate it.” He grumbles out a “sure” but her smile only widens before she pushes the door open and slides out. “Have a good night.” He nods at her and waits until she disappears up the landing and he hears a door close. It’s late, and he plans to drive another hour or two to avoid Caliban’s very personal questions and the concern in his voice for Charles that has Logan thinking back to a mansion filled with limp bodies and broken screams. He keeps driving.

She sees him again two weeks later, by pure chance. The car she can’t afford to fix means it was bound to happen sooner or later. She’d gotten by the last month with bus rides at god forsaken hours of the morning and rideshares when she’d had her fill of sticky plastic seats, the smell of urine, and people who didn’t see anything wrong with having conversations on speaker in public. She can spare the few bucks most of the time- twice a week, sometimes three. Tonight is one of those nights. She didn’t think much of it when she ordered the ride, only putting the name to the face when she opens the door and sees the man with tired eyes, a rumpled shirt, and a rugged handsomeness she admonishes herself for noticing. “Oh hey. Again,” she greets, pulling her backpack onto her lap and hugging it to her chest. He raises his eyebrows at her and turns around in this seat again with a grunted hey.

It’s much the same as the last time and the silence that settles is so blissful she’s surprised she doesn’t fall asleep. As she’s leaving she feels possessed to tell the man- Logan, that she hopes she gets him next time too. She doesn’t expect anything other than a one word response but he turns to look at her and a disbelieving chuckle escapes him. He runs a hand through his hair and eyes her with a scrutiny she’s not used to. They’re not quite green and not quite brown and it’s stupid to think because she doesn’t know him but she wonders what they’d look like without all that hurt. “And why is that?” he questions gruffly. Ignoring the flush that she’s certain has risen to her face she speaks truthfully, “The quiet. It’s nice. Don’t get too much of that most days,” she replies, motioning to her scrub clad body. She sees his eyes focus on the badge clipped to her collar and he nods, “I fucking believe it.” He nods at her as he unlocks the door. “See you later,” she calls. “Maybe,” he replies.

---

“What, are you requesting me or something?” he asks incredulously. That earns him a laugh- a light and airy sound that he would have found strange, because it wasn’t that funny, but he’s picked her up outside a bar, and her eyes are glazed over and the smell is so much stronger than the first time. She must notice his weariness, because she’s leaning back in her seat with her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be good I promise,” she smiles at him then, and it’s so genuine he allows himself to believe her. He tells her that she better not throw up with a grumble and she’s nodding, “Yes, Mr. Logan.” He sends her a look and pulls the car out of park. She keeps her promise the first 5 minutes. It’s so quiet and the road so familiar, he almost forgets about the stranger in his backseat. But then she’s breaking the silence, and her voice is no longer cheery and playful; she’s nearly whispering and her voice is cracking as she makes her inquiry, “Can I tell you something?”

He wants to be rude and tell her he’s not a fucking psychiatrist and he’s honestly the last person anyone should want to have a heart to heart with but he doesn’t. She’s been perfectly nice to him and even if he had a habit of being an asshole more often than not nowadays, he knew she didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t meet her eyes in the rearview. “Go ahead, kid.”

“We lost someone today. And I just- I couldn’t stand the thought of just going home and being alone with it, you know? And it wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last and maybe I should just be used to it by now but, I just can’t. And next year, I won’t be under someone, it’ll be my responsibility and only mine and I-” she’s crying now and he hears her trying hard to stifle the tears. “Anyway, that’s why I drank so fucking much. Sorry. God, I’m-” she falters and quiets lamely.

His knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel and he’s thinking of a streak of white hair, and blue skin that’s turning a sickly gray and the woman he couldn’t have at the foot of the stairs and he knows that no amount of liquor can make you forget. “You don’t,” he says. “You don’t get used to it. Just get better at hiding it.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and she’s leaning forward now, her chin resting on the slope of the passenger seat. “I’ll just always feel responsible. Like I didn’t do enough.”

He’s pulled into her lot when he finally turns and meets her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

---

She’s too fucking embarrassed to risk seeing him again for several weeks. She knows very well how irrational she’s being, and she knows he must have dealt with far worse but she’s never been one to share the details of her life with near strangers. So she braves the bus and the noise and the smell and the headaches that plague her as a result.

The next time she sees him, it isn’t in his car. She’s leaving the hospital, and like many third year residents, had survived on nothing but a granola bar and coffee. Her feet are aching and she briefly considers just going home but she’s got the appetite of a hungover undergrad so she stops in at the nearby diner. She’s greeted by the smell of pancake batter and bacon grease and for that she ignores the sticky table and water spotted silverware. She’s about to look around for a waitress when she sees him two booths away, staring very intensely at the coffee mug before him. His eyes suddenly meet hers and she raises her hand in a hesitant wave before looking away and flagging down the waitress. She’s a customer–an acquaintance really, so she’s surprised when she hears the shuffling of footsteps and he drops into the seat across from her. She meets his eyes and leans forward slightly, “I’m not following you I promise,” she tells him and that earns her a gruff laugh, “I’d hope you’d have better things to do. Doctor.”

He’s different from every time before. Looser. His white collared shirt is unbuttoned and rolled at the sleeves, suit jacket abandoned. She notices for the first time just how imposing he is, all hard muscle and tan skin and eyes that seem to burn right through her. But they’re the slightest bit unfocused, and then his demeanor makes sense. “Yeah, just a thing or two,” she tells him with a smile. He surprises her again by asking if her day was better than the last time he saw her. She skips over more apologies, since he clearly isn’t bothered and she nods at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually. Thanks. It’s hard, you know. The ER. It’s people at their most vulnerable and someone’s life is literally in your hands and yes, it’s fast and it’s exhausting but, I love it. I really do,” she finishes, unable to help herself from smiling at the admission. Her plate is delivered then, and it takes everything in her to not inhale the pancake stack. Rather, she stabs at the eggs first and looks expectantly at the man before her, “What about you?”

“Oh yeah, always wanted to be a driver. Nothing like it,” he answers. She rolls her eyes at his tone, “You’re just full of surprises tonight aren’t you. Who would’ve thought you were capable of making a joke.”

He brings the mug to his lips, downing the remainder of the black coffee and leaning back into the red vinyl. He shrugs, “Shit happened and a move across the country made sense.” He’s looking down at the table, fingers tapping against the sticky laminate and she doesn’t miss the scars between his knuckles. They’re fresh, the skin still puckered and pink and it only adds to the mystery of the man before her. The one so dead set on hiding. She nods, but they both know she doesn’t buy it. “I’ll get it out of you, one day,” she replies, “I’m not known for quitting.”

He huffs out a laugh, “It’s your mistake,” he responds, but those hazel eyes meet hers with a look she can’t quite place. She responds in kind, mimicking his shrug before cutting up the pancake stack before her. They sit in silence for a while and he looks incredibly amused at the enthusiasm with which she eats. She slouches down in her seat with a sigh when she finishes, “Wow I really fucking needed that.”

He nods at her, “Gotta take care of yourself kid.” She raises her eyebrow at him indicating she could say the same thing about him and he shrugs again, “Yeah, fine. You win.” He gestures towards the window, “Going to head out.”

She smiles at him lightly, “You’ll likely see me again really soon,” she admits. “Car’s still busted.”

It’s when he stands up to go that she notices. He tries to keep his arm by his side, but it comes up to his torso just as he grits his teeth and winces. He brings his hand up to signal that he’s fine and she can stay seated but she’s standing in front of him and giving him a look that says that she knows better. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and makes to move past her, “Nothing it’s fine.” She looks down at his shirt and then back up at him with a fierceness in her eyes, “The blood seeping through your shirt would suggest otherwise, Logan.” He’s about to open his mouth to protest but she grabs his calloused hand and pushes against his chest with her free hand, keeping him in place. “You’re going to let me help because I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t. I don’t care what happened, just let me.” He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh knowing it’s a losing battle. The woman who barely cleared his shoulders wasn’t going to let it go.

She leans down and slings her bag over her shoulder and motions toward the bathroom. There’s barely enough space in the dingy men’s room and it smells strongly of cheap air freshener and bleach. She pushes the toilet lid down with her foot and motions for him to sit before digging out the first aid kit from her bag and handing it to him while she scrubs her hands with several pumps of soap. “Of course you have one of these.”

She gives him a pointed look, “Never know when the mysterious chauffeur with a secret past is going to be bleeding out in the 24/7 diner.”

He’s taken his shirt off and suddenly she’s crouched between his knees, her brows furrowed. There’s a wound along his abdomen, maybe four inches long. The stitches he’d clearly done himself had split. But it’s not just that. His torso is a mirage of scars, both old and new–shiny pink strips that stand out from the rest of his tanned surface, the jagged edges pulling at his taught skin. Then she sees the rounded indentations and she’s been in the ER enough to know that they’re bullet holes and she pushes down the worry that is suddenly taking root in her chest. She can feel his eyes studying her, waiting for a reaction–for an explanation. She doesn’t give him one.

He towers above her and is easily twice as wide, and for all his roughness, she can’t help but find him beautiful. She stands to get a stack of paper towels that she presses to his skin as gently as she can. “Sorry,” she murmurs when she feels him tense beneath her fingers. He feels like a furnace. “Hold that a sec.” She’s pulling out gloves, then scissors and tweezers. She pulls his hand away when the towels are soaked through. He closes his eyes as she starts to remove the old thread, and she somehow stays focused on the split skin and not the fact that she’s close enough to hear every change in his breathing and smell traces of cologne and whiskey.

She doesn’t question him while she works and he’s grateful for it. She gives him a smile when she says, “The stitches weren’t even that bad, so good job.” He tries to relax, but he finds himself tensing at the feel of her fingers on his skin, the intimacy of it, however necessary it was, an almost foreign concept to him as of late. She keeps mumbling apologies anytime he does, like she’s the reason he’s got a knife wound. A few years ago, he might have said something crass about her position between his legs but now? Right now, he can’t fathom why she cares so much to begin with.

He lets his eyes fall to her face as she concentrates on threading the hooked needle. Some of her dark hair has escaped the knot at the nape of her neck and her tongue pokes out from between her lips as she works, her brows furrowed in concentration. She holds the suture in one hand while the other grabs hold of a small brown bottle. She meets his eyes apologetically. “This is going to sting.” He only nods as she pours it over the wound, clenching his teeth as he inhales. “Ok, this is going to feel worse but I’ll be as quick as I can,” she assures him.

The dim yellow light from the flickering fixture above them has her squinting as she leans forward and braces her forearms above his knees. “I’ll be fine,” he tells her when she glances up at him with another apology. He closes his eyes as he feels the tugging on his skin, his fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. A few moments pass before she leans back and reaches for the dressing. “All done,” she announces, pressing the bandage down and removing her gloves.

He stands and moves to re-button his shirt but she reaches down and pushes his bloody hands away. “Let me.” There’s barely three inches between them and he’s suddenly very aware of the heat from her skin and the way her nimble fingers seem to take longer than necessary working the buttons through. Then, her palms linger on his chest when she’s done and all he can smell is her perfume and all he can hear is his pulse between his ears. She’s peering up at him with those deep, dark eyes and she looks so innocent and kind and young–everything he is not.

But she’s more than that; she’s fucking brilliant and dedicated and she spends her days pulling people from the brink of death so he doesn’t get why she’s looking at him that way. Why she’d seen all that she had in the last 20 minutes and still wants anything to do with him at all. He’s vague and defensive and she can’t have much of an idea of who he is at all and yet she’s still there, looking at him like that.

It’s worse when she runs her thumb across the raised scar on his cheek and his eyes fall closed immediately and he almost forgets to breathe. His hand comes up to catch her wrist between calloused fingers and he wants to keep her from wasting any more time on him and his brain is screaming at him to just tell her no but he doesn’t. And it’s incredibly stupid because he knows how fucking terribly it always ends. Always. He drops her wrist and she catches his right hand, her thumb passing gently along the scars between his knuckles. It’s intoxicating- the feel of her skin on his and god its been so long. Her head is bowed as she maps out the scar tissue on the back of his hand and she’s so incredibly gentle and seemingly awestruck when her eyes meet his again that he feels his stomach drop because he wishes so badly that she didn’t care. That he didn’t.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. She smiles at him lightly, and he’s confused by the sadness that seems to overtake her features. “You’re so much more than I ever could have hoped, Logan. Please know that.” He decides then that his name on her lips is his new favorite sound. He almost opens his mouth to protest but he knows it will only upset her so he stays quiet. She drops his hand and then she has both palms on his chest again and soft lips against his cheek and he lets himself savor the proximity and the warmth and the scent of vanilla that surrounds her. He catches her waist before she can step away and her hands slide upwards to meet behind his neck. He bows his head to rest against her forehead and it takes all his restraint to not kiss her until she’s breathless. That soft, sweet smile has returned to her face and her dark eyes are shining. It’s almost enough to make him forget the grimy bathroom they’re standing in. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” she whispers and he feels his lips pull up at the corners before he can stop it.

He drives her home in his passenger seat.

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groovebunker · 3 months ago

Text

i’m gonna be obnoxious about this and people are just going to have to be cool about that. yes? good.

happy birthday to what would you do (if they ever found us out) (affectionately known as wwyd)!!! a year ago today, i posted chapter one and (i’m not being dramatic here) i think it changed my life?

little backstory: i’m a dyke with eyes and a type, so when i watched fran drescher making impassioned speeches about labour rights, i was both smitten and reminded that i’d been meaning to watch the nanny. i was also (mostly unbeknownst to me) about as mentally ill as i’ve ever been in my life. i was halfway through a phd which i loved but it was making me so, so unwell. anyway, i started watching the nanny as some kind of escapism and one night, i was like…has anyone thought of fran and cc kissing on the mouth? and they had (obviously) and so i started thinking about that and how whine cellar is a deeply disappointing episode in so many ways and then i was like ‘i can fix that! with a one shot!’.

fast fwd to april 2024. i’m in my favourite city in the world. i’m posting the 11th chapter of that one shot far too late at night (sorry sara). it’s ended up about 85k words long. i’m no longer a phd candidate. i’m significantly less mentally ill. and i’ve spent the last 8 or so months being held by a group of people i would never have met if i had never started writing again.

i didn't quit my phd to write fan fiction, obviously. but writing fic helped me realise how unhappy i was because it was something that gave me joy in a time that was so fucking bleak. i don't really like thinking about it too much but it wasn't great. and then i had this lifeline. these two idiots (affectionate) falling in love with one another, not only in wwyd but all the other fics i was writing. and talking about with people who were commenting and finding me on tumblr. and then, eventually, we weren't just talking about fran and cc, we were talking about our lives! because we were friends!

people will tell you before you start a phd that it's a lonely experience. i was the only history student in my cohort. i only met one of my supervisors in person at his leaving drinks. i have two friends i met at my uni, one of whom was the first person i told that i had to quit. i had other friends and an incredible, loving, patient partner, and they were amazing. but still, it was lonely.

and then i just fucking wasn't.

january ‘24, the squad evolved from being my stupid tumblr tag to being the most chaotic group chat i have ever been part of (until nic got us nicely organised). a week or so later, i quit the phd. and i told a bunch of people i’d never met that i was dropping out of grad school and they were so fucking kind. i will never forget that. the squad, in all its iterations, will have my heart for my whole life. i will not rest until i have annoyed you all in person. my dream is winning the lottery and flying you all to a villa in spain for a week so i can cook you dinner (and cass can make bread) every night and drink wine and splash about in the sun (or in sara’s case, hide in the shade and probably yell at us to put sun screen on). when i say i love you, i mean it so wholly and truly.

anyway, back to wwyd. it’s not my first fic. i’ve been writing on and off for 15 long, long years. but i hadn't written a ton for a while (other than my aloto fic bc gretson my beloved) and i really kind of expected to get a couple of comments and a few kudos. i just had a story that wanted to get out so i published the first few chapters in really rather quick succession (i’m sorry to anyone who reads my stuff, my adhd is too bad for a posting schedule) and people…loved it? like, really loved it. which was so nice because i’m gonna be honest, there was not an adoring audience for my academic work (perils of being a genocide scholar). and i know it's become quite a few people’s comfort fic. i know people have reread it, more than once in some cases, which feels wild. people have left the most wonderful comments, said the kindest things, drawn gorgeous art, made a fanmix (which is fucking amazing), followed along on this journey which i did not expect them to do.

i don't have favourite children (b&w fans, i promise you, the next chapter is in the works) but if i did, wwyd might be one. sure, she's my difficult eldest child. but she got me into a fandom for the first time in years, she’s given me friends i know I will hold onto for the rest of my life, she reminded me how much fun writing can be. and she’s spawned so much more because she made me so much more confident as a writer.

so i don't think i’m being overdramatic when i say it changed my life. if you’d told me all of this when i hit publish on chapter one last year, i would have told you to fuck off. relatively vehemently. but i’m better now. and i’m so fucking grateful for this fic for being part of what gave me that.

anyway, thanks for letting me be a bit self indulgent - promise you don't have to sit through this ever again (maybe for won't you when i finally get it done. i’m sorry. i’m verbose). and once again, to everyone who has read wwyd, given it kudos, commented, reblogged a chapter on tumblr, all of it, my eternal thanks. i couldn't have done it without you.

finally, because i cannot say it enough, to the squad, you have my whole heart. it’s actually mad to me that this time last year, i had no idea who any of you were. your stamp on the last few chapters of wwyd is indelible. your stamp on my life is somehow more permanent than that. thank you. ilsym 🫶🏻

#fran x cc #my fic #personal #the nanny #cc x fran #wwyd #ccbds #cc babcock defense squad

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otherone12 · 16 days ago

Text

Merry Christmas, Guys!

MCR x Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Merry christmas, everyone! I suppoused to post this december 24th... but there was a blackout in my neighborhood and I didn't have internet… so, here it is! Hope u like it!

Summary: Some of my head cannons of Christmas stuff...

- Warnings: Really cliché

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

-> Gerard

- You both decide to make gingerbread houses, but despite your best efforts to make them look Pinterest-perfect, they end up being a bit more "creative" than expected. There’s icing everywhere, and the candy decorations seem to defy any sense of order, but you both end up laughing at the masterpiece you’ve created;

- Of course you will cuddle and watch "Nightmare Before Christmas", You cozy up on the couch with a blanket and steal kisses in between your favorite songs, laughing when you both get the lyrics wrong;

- If you’re hosting the Christmas dinner at your house, he’ll help set the table, making sure everything’s in place, and then pitch in to cook something simple yet delicious—maybe even letting you take the lead, but staying close to help whenever you need it;

- You both sit together, painting Christmas balls before placing them on the tree. Each ornament is covered in little snowflakes, reindeer, gifts, and all sorts of whimsical designs. You have fun being creative, and it’s the perfect way to make the tree even more you.

- You will make garlands and have long debates about where to place each element of it;

- You both can’t wait until Christmas Eve to exchange gifts. The excitement is too much, so you agree to open your presents early. You both give each other thoughtful, sometimes funny gifts;

- On Christmas Eve, he’ll convince you to stay in bed until midday. Wrapped up in blankets and holding each other close, he’ll tell you you’re his “Christmas gift,” making you smile at how sweet and cheesy he’s being. But you don’t mind one bit, especially when you're together;

- He’ll look at you with a teasing grin, saying, “You look pretty even in this awful sweater,” as you both wear your ridiculous holiday-themed outfits;

- After the Christmas dinner, he sets up a cozy spot by the fireplace where you both just talk and enjoy the warmth;

- He’ll take you ice skating even though neither of you are great at it, and you end up holding hands to avoid falling over.

___________________________________________

-> Frank

-He'll casually walk around with mistletoe in his pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. When he holds it between you, he'll smirk and say, “Hey… I didn’t make the rules,” before stealing a kiss, acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world;

- He will probablly prank you with a fake terrible gift before give you the real one;

- You’ll settle in with hot chocolate, blankets, and maybe a couple of cookies as you watch "Home Alone". He’ll quote the lines with you, laughing at the same jokes every time, and getting cozy as you both enjoy the movie.

- He won’t be able to wait until Christmas Eve to open gifts. If you even try to hold out, he’ll beg and plead, giving you puppy-dog eyes until you finally cave and let him open them early. He’ll be so excited, it’s impossible to resist;

- You’ll decide to bake something together, but it’ll end up going hilariously wrong (maybe the cookies burn or the cake falls apart). Despite the mess, he’ll laugh it off, saying it’s part of the fun, and you’ll both end up eating your imperfect creations anyway.

- Get ready for some cheesy holiday humor! He’ll tell the corniest Christmas jokes like, “What do you call an obnoxious reindeer? Rude-olph,” and you’ll roll your eyes, but secretly, you’ll be laughing because his bad jokes are part of his charm;

- He’ll spend way too long messing with the Christmas lights—maybe they won’t work, or they’ll keep short-circuiting. But when they finally light up perfectly, he’ll stand back with a proud grin, like he just won an Olympic gold medal, and say, “Told you I could do it.”;

- He’ll surprise you with a last-minute Christmas date, where you both drive around to see Christmas lights, eating candy canes and hot chocolate, talking and laughing;

___________________________________________

-> Ray

- You’ll spend the day watching a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies, laughing at all the overly dramatic scenes and predictable plot twists. You both make fun of the corny moments, quoting lines and sharing playful jabs, but secretly, you both enjoy every second of it;

- Ray takes charge of cooking the Christmas dinner, but you insist on helping. Despite your best intentions, he’s the one doing most of the work, guiding you through each step. He laughs and reassures you that you're the “taste tester” for his creations, giving you playful kisses whenever you offer a critique;

- You will dance together to old Christmas Songs, not like serious dance, but having fun while he spin you around the living room and stole kisses;

- He’s the type to get you a really thoughtful, sentimental gift that might be something that reminds you of a memory you shared together, like a framed photo of your first holiday together.

- Ray creates a personalized Advent calendar for you, giving you small, meaningful gifts every day throughout December. It could be a necklace, a book you’ve been eyeing, or even a tube of your favorite lipstick. Each gift is carefully chosen, with a note attached, making you feel loved every single day;

- Ray is the type of person who insists on giving you a “Christmas morning breakfast,” which usually consists of pancakes, waffles, bacon, and eggs—and he’ll serve it in bed while you both relax.

___________________________________________

-> Mikey

- Mikey surprises you with a Christmas card, and as you read the message, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a perfect blend of humor and sentimentality, somehow making you feel incredibly loved while still getting a good chuckle;

- You and Mikey head to the ice rink for a fun day of skating. But what starts as a casual activity quickly turns into a competition to see who can fall the least. Mikey, with his trademark coolness, insists that slipping isn’t a big deal, even when he takes a small tumble, and you both end up laughing so hard you can hardly keep your balance;

- Mikey takes over the kitchen to bake you a batch of gingerbread cookies. They might not win any baking awards (some are a little too crispy or misshapen) but Mikey’s proud, and he looks at you with a grin, saying, “Hey, they’re homemade, that’s what counts.” The thought and effort make them taste all the sweeter;

- He’ll sneak up on you during Christmas morning, offering you a cup of hot cocoa and a sweet smile before you even open your presents.

- He will make you a personalized Christmas playlist filled with songs that remind him of you, including some rare tracks he thinks you’d love;

- He will probably get sentimental about Christmas, often recalling funny stories about past holidays, making you both laugh and get lost in the warm memories.

- You both will end up having snowball wars during the Christmas season. It starts out lighthearted, but soon, you’re both throwing snowballs with serious determination, laughing and dodging as the snow piles up around you;

___________________________________________

- So, that's it! Hope u liked! <3

- Tag List: @bossiestbitch @mimilovesnumetal

#my chemical romance #mcr #gerard way #gerard way x reader #frank iero x reader #ray toro x reader #mikey way x reader #ray toro #frank iero #mikey way

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lucdacuslady · 3 months ago

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hi this is my first fic!!! hopefully i’m able to write more :), please send suggestions you have :)

pov: you’ve been dating julien for a few years and accompanied the boys on the tour. you decide that tonight is a special night to pop the question

reader x julien baker fluff

you’re taking your usual spot side stage, a perfect view of your tattooed, some would call a rockstar girlfriend singing her little heart out on stage. on a usual night you are usually obnoxiously screaming every single lyric, and certainly being a spectacle, most fans posting your dance moves and utter love for the boys on twitter. but tonight feels different, your hands have never felt more clammy, and there’s a quiet sense to your extroverted demeanor. something that isn’t normal.

the boys have their last check backstage and the brunette comes up to you wrapping her tattooed hands around your waist. “hey angel, are you okay? you usually are fluttering around, i’ve barely heard a word out of you.” she says pressing a kiss against your temple you stare at lucy and phoebe, “sorry j, it’s nothing, i think i’m just exhausted and ready to be in our actual bed tonight” you say facing her. “ill be alright once the show starts, i’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re finished” you add kissing her.

“i love you baby” she says heading out to her spot on stage

“love you more jb!” you yell back

“see you out there kiddo” lucy says quietly giving your head a small kiss before joining your partner.

~flashback to two weeks prior~

“hey luce?” you say to the ravenette quietly as julien was taking a shower on the bus.

“yeah what’s up?” she says looking up from her book

“so i want to propose to julien, like big time propose and i want y’all involved because you all are all so close, i’ve spoken to her dad, i’ve talked to my parents. i could 1000% go on and on about how much i love your best friend and-”

lucy interrupts you “don’t say anything else, i have a perfect plan” she smiles so big at you.

~end of flashback~

half of the set is already completed, the solo album trio is coming up, with favor first. your hands are sweating as you fiddle with the ring box in your baggy jeans. you changed into a nicer outfit than your standard jb tshirt and jeans. and luckily julien is so enthralled in what’s happening on stage as both of your family flew in to see tonight’s show, she’s truly giving it her all.

you can’t help but tear up when david begins to play. knowing that you watched this trio of songs happen in real time. how much growing you both have done and how much love still remains. favor ends.

“Graceland Too” begins to play…

~flashback to 5 days ago~

you, phoebe and lucy sit in the green room while Julien is on the phone with whom ever.

“okay this is going to be the plan.” phoebe says looking at you. “i’m going to start Graceland, like normal, you’re going to sing the second verse, to the bridge and then we will sing the rest and turn off y’all’s mics so you can “privately” be all sappy” she says sitting back with a smirk on her face.

“that sounds amazing pheebs” you say finally wrapping it around you head you are about to marry your best friend.

~end of flashback~

phoebe begins the song, you just around out of plain sight to get out any last minute nerves and wait for the end of verse one, someone pack stage gives you a microphone and you receive the cue from lucy, who is also holding back tears as it’s common for julien to get so emotional during this part in the lineup.

“she could go home, but she’s not going to”

you walk out

“so she picks a direction it’s 90 to Memphis turns up the music so thoughts don’t intrude predictively winds up, thinking of Elvis and wonders if he believed songs could come true”

you walk out, singing those lyrics which at the time were so true, julien stops dead in her tracks, the crowd screams. you motion at her to take her guitar off. she does and hand it to a person working tech. you shut off the microphone and pull out one of her inears. you grab both of her hands and take a deep breath before staring into this big bambi eyes you love so much.

“julien rose baker, jb, my sweet angel. my personal chef, my moon and my everything, my best friend” you begin

julien is sobbing, lucy and phoebe continue to sing the piece.

“i have loved every second of the past 4 years, i’ve loved growing into a person with my perfect person. and i can’t imagine it any other way. i want to continue to grow this perfect foundation with you, heal the cracks and build a perfect, beautiful chapel with you. you are where i feel safe, where i feel the most like me, you are my perfect person julien, so if you would do me the favor” you say, fumbling for the box in your pocket and jumping to one knee.

“julien rose baker, will you give me the absolute gift of marrying you” you say looking into those large brown orbs again.

she reaches down to you getting on her knees

“jesus christ yes, yes yes yes yes” she tackles you to the floor both of you crying

she rolls the two of you over, kissing you so hard you can’t breathe.

“said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment”

you place the ring on her finger, it fitting beautifully

“i love you baby” you say kissing the side of her head.

“i love you more princess”

the song finishes, lucy and phoebe run over to give a huge hug. both of the sobbing

“congratulations lovebirds” phoebe says “let’s finish this show so we can all celebrate this!!”

#julien baker #julien baker x reader #boygenius #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #lucdacuslady

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si1verghosts · 3 months ago

Text

my beloved ghost and me | ch. 0

post-di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 1.8k

18+ | cw: major character death

read on ao3

a/n: hi! this is something i've been working on since april - i intended to wait until the story was complete to begin posting it but i impulsively decided to share this on ao3 last night sooo...

as things stand, i have about 40k written for this already, but most of the chapters are incomplete due to my inability to write sequentially. so updates will come, i just can't say for certain when... sorry!! i'll likely add an unnecessarily lengthy introduction at some point explaining the inspiration for this but for now all i will say is that this is a love story. and i hope you will join me on the journey through it :-)

not beta read - all mistakes my own or done purposely due to my general disrespect for the grammatical conventions of the english language.

please do not use my work to train any sort of Al chat bot and/or writing generator. thank you.

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The official theme of this poem is

The official theme of all my poems which is

You get in love and then you die!

- Hera Lindsay Bird, "Having Already Walked Out On Everyone I Ever Said I Loved." (x)

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May 19th, 2026

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The sun is high and sparkling when Leon leaves in a whirlwind, collecting holsters and guns and papers and keys. The window is thrown open, the fresh cut grass floating in on a breeze - you will suffer for it later, but you love the way Leon wears the smell; his warmth softening the sharp edges of the scent.

The door is ajar, his car idling in the drive when he finally slows, lingers; hands at your waist and nose in your neck.

"Stop," you whine, palms against his chest; condensation building on your glass of orange juice on the counter. "I haven't showered."

"Don't care," he mutters into your skin; sniffing obnoxiously, disgustingly.

You squirm under his touch as he drags his nose up your throat, peppers kisses along your cheek, fingers pulling you closer and closer.

Jack grumbles at your feet - your gallant protector in his fluffy brown coat of armor. Leon detaches himself from you to crouch down and scratch behind his ears; levels his gaze, voice serious, "You take care of our girl, okay?"

It's the same song and dance every time Leon leaves. Like clockwork, Jack's tongue lolls out of his mouth - of course, always.

Satisfied, Leon stands to full height once again, tan skin radiant and highlighted hair shimmering under the brilliance of the forenoon rays. Blue eyes holding your gaze, he nods down to Jack, "This is my most trusted associate - you'll be safe with him."

You roll your eyes, tugging on his collar, "Shut up and kiss me, hotshot."

And he does, hands falling back to your hips as yours find their way to his neck, capturing the strands at his nape between your fingers. He wanders under your rumpled shirt, calloused skin contradictorily soft, soothing, gentle.

His minty coffee morning taste replaces the staleness of sleep still resting on your tongue, clearing the residual lethargy from your mind. You long to slam the door closed, lock the windows, pull him back to bed and keep him there - fuck the country, fuck the world; he was yours to have and to hold.

You retreat before you can act on your selfish thoughts, voice a whisper against his mouth, "Duty calls, Agent Kennedy."

He hums, eyes still closed; presses his lips against yours once, twice, three times more. He pulls back, hesitating - stay, stay, stay, you silently beg - but it only lasts a moment before he shakes his head, clears his throat, laces your fingers together.

He takes you with him over the threshold and out into the building heat of the late Virginia spring; as far as you're able to go. Jack darts out from behind you and into the yard, redirecting to run laps around Leon's car when he opens the driver's door; your husband chuckles at the Bernese before leaning in to kiss you again.

You've said the same goodbye a hundred and one times but it still aches, burns; worry swelling in your throat as you force yourself to smile when he steps back. "I'll leave the light on," you promise, as you always do.

"No need - it's just Raleigh," Leon allays while he slips behind the wheel, hand still in your own. "I should be home before dinner if Hunnigan is feeling generous and lets me file the report tomorrow."

"I'll give her a call," you grin, letting him pull you into his chest. "Let her know she's welcome to use excessive force to get you to complete your paperwork, if need be."

He throws himself back against the headrest with a groan, silky hair fluttering with the movement. "You two are so mean to me," he grumbles. "I never should've let you be friends."

You laugh, a single snort that gets his eyes glittering, "Hilarious."

Releasing your hand, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head towards him and capturing your mouth one last time. He sucks on your bottom lip in a way that assures his intent to seek retribution. You get lost in it for a moment, stomach clenching; dizzy with the desire to slip inside him, join him on his journeys into the darkness, tucked away safely next to his heart.

He separates the kiss when he notices you've nearly crawled inside the car with him; smirking at your glazed expression. Smug bastard.

The air moves, cooling the spit on your lip, sending a shiver through you. He swipes his thumb along your pout, immediately returning the warmth to the skin.

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he drawls, still managing to make you weak in the knees after all these years. "I love you."

"Bye," you retreat slowly, sorrowfully; swaying on the blacktop as you push his door shut. "I love you too - more than anything."

"More than anything," he repeats, holding his pinky out through the window. You knot your littlest fingers together for half a breath, stepping back as he reverses out of the drive.

Jack nudges your thigh as Leon drives away, off to save the world again - just another Tuesday.

You type away until the early evening - working, just barely. It was always difficult to do anything when Leon was away, especially write emails answering the same questions three times over. But you needed some way to distract yourself, to keep you from the news - Leon had made you swear not to watch it. "If there's something you need to know, you'll be told," he promised, smoothing down your hair, kissing your forehead.

A knock pulls you from your computer and your office, moving towards the foyer, Jack's nails clicking against the hardwood as he follows along. Feet planted in the same spot where Leon had kissed you goodbye a few hours ago, you pull open the door to find Ingrid.

Years ago, sometime between when hooking up turned into having dinner, Leon had sat you down, told you his job was unconventional. "It's very likely that one of these days I won't come home," he had said, blue eyes pinning you in place at his kitchen table. "I'm not telling you this to scare you; I just can't… You deserve to know. I understand if you want to leave; don't want to deal-"

You had laughed, cutting him short. It had been three months - maybe four - but you couldn't fathom the idea of walking away, of leaving him - at least not voluntarily.

Your chuckles had melted down into concern, confusion. "If you don't want to be with me Leon, just say that - I'll understand. You don't have to make up stories-"

It was his turn to interrupt you, but he had done it kinder, gentler; falling to a knee in front of you. "No. No, that's not… I can't explain, can't give details but I mean it. I want you," he had sighed, head falling forward, fringe following. "But tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that."

It was cryptic and disquieting, you should've pushed for clarification, should've gotten up and left - but he said I want you. Those three words had echoed around your skull and bounced around your heart. I want you I want you I want you.

Anyone who had ever met you wouldn't say sanity was something you possessed in spades - you leaned in, took his face between your hands and kissed him.

In the years since, you believed you had prepared yourself for the worst, for the inevitable. You had even had a few false alarms; training runs - the three weeks he had dropped off the face of the earth, unreachable in the European wilderness; the bullet through his femoral artery, resulting in near total blood loss; the tubes down his throat after a six-hour surgery to repair his punctured lung.

Leon had warned you and you had made your choice.

But Ingrid's presence on your doorstep throws you - if something happened, you should've been called. That's how these things work; your phone rings, providing you with what little information they can.

Instead, she steps over the threshold, "Have you watched the news?"

"No," you frown. "Leon doesn't… Why are you here?"

Ingrid falls forward, you embrace her on instinct, feel her choke on a sob; feel the blood freeze in your veins, stop cold. "I'm sorry."

You aren't stupid, you know what she means. You understand it, had internalized the expectation of it. Still, you don't comprehend her words. "Sorry?"

She steps back, holding your hands, someone's hands - you can't be sure they are yours, can't find them. "I'm," she shakes her head, "So sorry."

"For what?"

You don't recognize her as she frowns, almost whimpers - can't force out the words.

"I need you to say it," you urge.

She braces herself, closes her eyes, "Leon's dead."

"How?" You feel vile for torturing her, but you can't help it - you have to hear it.

She swallows, shudders. "A bomb - it wiped out the entire block. He was clear, but," she stops to heave. "He went back in, apparently."

"I," she stutters, straightens her spine. "I lost his signal. The last transmission I was able to hear, he said there were still civilians inside. So he must've went back in… He always… He always had to go back in.

"They're searching still but," she heaves again. You should really offer her a seat, a drink, a tissue - you're being a terrible host. "The building witnesses said he… He ran into - it's almost like it was vaporized; there's hardly even any rubble left. There's nothing to search."

"Okay," you nod. "Thank you - for letting me know."

You step back, make for the kitchen, "Can I get you anything?"

She looks shocked, understandably. She's had a rough day. "I… No, thank you."

"Alright - I'm going to put on some tea, you're welcome to stay."

She closes the distance between you, grabs your elbows, shakes you ever so slightly. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, there was a bomb; you guys think he's dead," you nod at her again, slower this time. "Leon has been blown up before - more times than I can count, but I'm sure you have the records. Give the search crews a few more hours, he's probably just having a nap under a steel beam or something. You know-"

"No," she interjects."I'm sorry - but no." She's crying now, you notice; tears cutting tracks through her foundation as she squeezes your elbows again. "I need you to understand; I'm telling you, he's dead."

"No," you laugh, trembling all over with the force of it. "No - he wouldn't… I'm telling you, he's ju-"

"Listen," she shakes you, words sharp, certain. "He's gone."

Tomorrow, next week, a year from now - I could be gone. I just need you to know that.

The room tilts as his words reverberate around your skull, "He's gone?"

"Yes," she sobs. You wonder if you're crying too. "He's gone."

You open your mouth to respond, but can't figure out how to form the words. You sink to your knees and scream.

#i know the photos dont match i'll fix them eventually #honestly had no idea what sorta Pictures to use #so thats good enough for now #(writing)#my beloved ghost and me #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x you #writing out all those tags always feels so degrading

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joekeerysguitar · 1 year ago

Text

erasing the lies

not friends/slight enemies to lovers <3

overview: you are an a+ student who is well rounded, very disciplined, and hard working gets asked to tutor the most obnoxious, lazy, and rude boy who ever stepped foot on this planet… steve harrington. unable to say no, you help him.. but what you uncover is something completely unexpected..

included: angst, fluff, mutual feelings, happy ending, cursing, relationships, use of y/n

authors note: heyy everyone! sorry about not uploading or writing anything in a longggg time. i’ve been super busy lately and just trying to enjoy the summer but i’m back! came up with this super cute idea and i hope you enjoy! thank you for all the love on the rest of my fics!! much love, nina <3

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“Mhm… yes.. she’ll be down shortly” The phone hits the receiver as your teacher spins around catching your eyes. “Y/N, the principal would like to see you.” She smiles her fake toothy grin as she resumes her lesson.

You feel the eyes on you as you quickly stuff your bag with your notebooks and pencils trying to get out of being the center of attention. You could hear the slight whispering of the class which feeds your inner thoughts.

“Oh shit, what did I do?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Quickly shutting the classroom door behind you, you exhale taking in the stale air of the empty hallway of Hawkins High School. You quickly walk down the hall as your heart beats wildly out of your chest. You can feel your stomach churn as you reach out for the door nob of the brown glass door that reads “Main Office.” The small bell at the top of the door rings alerting the secretary as you quickly step inside and shut the door gently. Taking a deep breath, you chase the butterflies away in your stomach as you loosen your shoulders and walk up to her forming a smile with your cherry lips.

“Uh hi, I was called down by the principal.” You mutter with a small smile.

“You must be Y/N?” She asks reading at a post it note on her desk. You nod trying to quickly get this interaction over with. “Have a seat dear.”

You walk over to the small sofa chair in the corner of the office. Bouncing your leg, you can feel the nervousness creep up from your core once again as the same questions float through your mind like clouds on a breezy day. You look around the room and notice old school yearbook photos, sports championship awards, and other boring memorabilia. Before you get a chance to read any, the door swings open to the person you did not want to see… the principal. He is older, with short small wisps of hair that adorn his mostly bald head. He is wearing a blue suit and you can see his beer belly slightly protrude from his attire.

“Come on in Y/N”

You quickly get out of the seat and follow him into the small crammed office. Your eyes immediate lock onto a very recognizable face here at Hawkins High. This face belongs to someone who’ve you have despised since elementary school. Someone who used to practically rule over the school, date every girl in the 5 mile radius, and keep his hair perfectly in place every single day. The King of Hawkins High was sitting right before your eyes.. the one and the only Steve Harrington. He just feverishly looks up at you before darting his eyes away and fiddles with his fingers embarrassingly. Your mind floods with endless questions as you take a seat next to him.

Steve Harrington is known for being the arrogant and snobby rich jock who’s only personality trait is hooking up with 50 girls a month. Rumors go around that his ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler broke up with him because she cheated with Jonathan Byers and didn’t want to get risked getting caught. All you know is that you don’t want to mess with him or even talk to him. He fails all his classes, always goes to parties, and barely has his parents home.

Trouble.

The principal clears his throat, “I probably assume you two have never met. Let me introduce you two. Y/N this is Steve, Steve this is Y/N.”

Being polite you turn your head and put on a fake smile as he returns the favor before you both quickly look at the principal once again.

“Now I called you two down here not because you’re in trouble but I have an important question to ask.” He says flicking his eyes between you two.

Okay not in trouble.. that’s a good sign.

“Y/N, now I know you are in many advanced classes and receive very high grades.” You nod and smile agreeing with his statements. You feel Steve shift in his chair uncomfortably as you look over and see his face blush as red as a tomato. “Well, Steve here does not receive the best of grades. Right now, if he doesn’t pass his classes, he will be unable to qualify for graduation.” You nod you head as your head whirs with millions of thoughts…

“Pfft, no shit it’s Steve Harrington”

“Unable to graduate? I could never.”

“What does this even mean?”

“Well I was wondering if you would be interested in tutoring him? Either once or twice a week would suffice.” He says with a smile as he looks at you.

Your heart drops just like the roller coasters at amusement parks. Your stomach does a flip as you can feel your organs rearrange from inside. Your face starts to heat up as your palms begin to get sweaty. You’re bad at making decisions especially ones that require things you don’t like.

Tutor Steve Harrington? Shoot me now!

Looking over at Steve you notice him look up at you reading your face for any response. You just look at him and look at the principal as the thoughts zoom around your brain.

You don’t know what to do.

Should I be the better person? Should I help the douchebag? You decide to go with your gut, you can’t ever say no.

You look up at the principal. “Sure, why not.” You smile as you look over to Steve who just looks at you like his prayers got awnsered.

He knows your really smart. Really really smart. And pretty cute too. You know, maybe this whole tutoring thing would work out in his favor. He passes his classes and he gets a new chic.

“Perfect, thank you Y/N!” He smiles as he hands you Steve’s grade sheet. “He specifically needs to work on Physics and US History.”

You glance at his grade sheet as you read the grades.

Physics- D

English- C

US History- F

Geometry- B

Oh boy, these grades aren’t looking too hot.

The principal buds in again. “Tutoring could be 1-2 hours at either persons house. He must be fully prepared by the last month of school.” You nod your head placing his grade sheet in your bag.

“Steve why don’t you thank Y/N for helping you with your studies?” He demands looking at Steve.

“Thank you Y/N.” He says timidly looking up into your eyes for a split second.

His eyes were really pretty. Brown with a hazel undertone. They shined with the morning sun glimmering through the half drawn shades.

You just smile back at him and reply “You’re welcome. Does tomorrow night around 6:00 at my place work?” He nods as you exchange addresses.

You leave the office with a million thoughts in your head.

How are you supposed to tutor someone you hate. Out of all people it is goddamn Steve Harrington. The rich, snobby, and rude jock who knows nothing but of parties and alcohol. You’re not gonna enjoy these sessions, you already know it. Seeing him is bad enough, how you have to talk and teach him twice a week for the next several weeks. Might as well just dig your grave now.

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“He will be here any min- ding.. I’ll get it.” You yell through the house. Steve had just ringed your doorbell. Your blood pressure just rose off the charts. You quickly run over to the front door and open it. There is Mr. Pretty Boy himself with his books cradled in his hands. He is wearing a dark green polo shirt with his usual blue jeans. He flashes you a charming hello smile as you step to the side and let him in.

That smile. Oh boy, made you feel different.

“Hi, how are you?” You ask watching him look around the house.

I’m sure he’s definitely judging it. Rich boy isn’t used to small rooms…

“I’m fine, how are you?” He asks catching you in the eye as you find yourself get lost in them.

Shake it off.. you gotta hate him…

Steve knows that he has this horrible reputation and he knows that people who don’t know him see him as what he used to be. His goal is to change that, whatever way possible. He hasn’t had a ton of friends since the whole situation. Heck, he dropped Tommy and his silly girlfriend. He really had no one.

He had hope.

Maybe you could be his first actual friend…

If he could prove to you that he changed…

He could even prove to himself that he won’t make mistakes ever again..

“Follow me.” You say tucking your hair behind your ears as you guide him to your room.

Your room was small and quaint. White walls with white decor. The accent the room was baby pink as you had several pictures of flowers or beaches on the wall. It was your comfy spot. Made you feel safe.

As you enter the room you walk over and sit down on your bed swinging your legs as they dangle off the floor. Beside you are the books you set out to study and practice with. Steve just looked around with a curious gaze in his eyes before he set his stuff down on your desk and walked over to sit beside you.

“Let’s get started.” You say turning to face him while you grab the Physics book from off the pile.

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“What’s the awnser to Question #7?” You ask as you stare at his pondering complexion. You wait a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to Steve?” You ramble as you wave your hand in front of his face.

“What.. sorry.” He jumps back into reality looking bored.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as he looks up into your eyes.

“Can we do something else?” He asks trying to read a reaction from your face.

“Yeah, Math or Social Studies?” You ask totally clueless.

“Not school Y/N.” He drags readjusting himself on your bed.

“Then what?” You ask a little harsher then expected. He looks surprised at your response.

“Jeez, you’re a little cranky.” He says sarcastically as he takes the book from your lap and places it on the ground. You watch as he fixes his hair after it gets into his face.

His hair is really nice. Dark thick hazelnut colored hair that is always perfectly styled and hair sprayed. They don’t call him “The Hair” for nothing.

You zoned out for a minute while studying his lucious locks and now he is taping your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“Sorry, just confused what you wanna do since the whole reason why you are here is to pass school.” You brush a piece of fallen hair from behind your ear.

Steve is not gonna lie to himself. You’re pretty cute, even when your cranky.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks looking confused as he looks into your darting eyes.

You search your brain for a response. You question telling him a lie or telling him the truth. Taking a deep breath you spit out the truth.

“Not currently. I mean it’s just a weird situation. You know, you’re popular and a jock and every girl on the planet is obsessed with you. And I’m not popular, a nerd, and never has had a boyfriend. So yeah this is a little awkward. Plus considering the fact that I thought you absolutely 100% hated me prior to this.” You blurt out with a nervous chuckle as you examine your fingers.

“What did I do to make you think that I hated you?” He asks inquisitively while still looking at you as he sees the blush to your cheeks.

“I mean in elementary school you did push me into a muddy puddle.” You say looking back up at him and smiling a bit.

He chuckles and says jokingly, “That’s the reason why? I’m sorry I did that Y/N but… maybe you deserved it.” His voice turns serious. “But on a serious note, let’s just scratch this whole stereotype thing and start fresh, okay?” He asks looking right into your ocean blue eyes as he extends his hand forward.

“Deal.” You laugh as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Steve, nice to meet you too!” He smiles brightly.

Hard feelings vanished..

For the remainder of the night, you two talk small talk about what you two enjoy and things that are happening in your lives. To be honest, you don’t mind him. You enjoy his quick remarks, his flirty attitude, his humor, and most of all his company.

On the other hand, Steve never thought he would speak to you a day in his life. But here he is, talking about movies, people, etc with someone he just met 24 hours ago and hell he was enjoying it too! There was something about you, something that made him incredibly happy inside. Something that filled a void no one has even filled before.

By the time the night was over, you already exchanged phone numbers and planned your next session.

Steve nor you could not wait for the next time you saw eachother!

Something definitely changed with him over the years. You’ve learned so much from him and how he has grown to better himself. It feels like someone took a pink eraser and erased all the lies right off the paper. It was good as new!

Deep down you had a feeling though and Steve was definitely feeling it too..

Deep down you had a crush..

On Steve Harrington..

The person who you refused to even speak to about 24 hours ago..

And he had one on you too..

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It was three days later and you and Steve were in the exact same spot practicing questions. You could tell by his body language that he was getting tired and bored. He got up and started to wander around your room with his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. Steve was bored of studying, you two have been studying flash cards for two hours and he was at his wits end. Steve loved the little breaks or stupid activities the two of you would do when you both were tired and needed a break. He loved spending time with you, either if it was teasing you or just having a simple friend to friend conversation. You guys have gotten closer over the time spent together and he clearly recognizes that. At first, you used to be shy and more reserved but the more time you’ve spent with him, the more you’ve come out of your shell. He loves your fiery remarks or playful teasing you always delivered right back to him after he said something to you. He loved watching you become pissed at him or become sarcastic and quick-witted with him after he would ask a stupid question or pull a dramatic stunt. So, per usual he decided this was the time to do yet another stunt he had brewing in his heavily hair-sprayed mind.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” You question as you watch his eyes glaze over your desk as he reaches his purple sleeved arm over towards a book on it. “Put that down.” You bark as you get up and race towards him. The smirk only growing bigger on his face as he hears your distress.

“What is this?” He asks with squinted eyes as he begins to open the pages but before he could get a good look, you reach for it. Using his height advantage, he stretches his arm towards the ceiling which now suspended the book over your head.

��Give it to me! It’s my diary, put it down!” You beg as you brush up against him as you try to grab and reach it. He laughs as he stands in his tippy toes to get it higher as you jump to try to reach it. You’re practically chest to chest as you can feel his chest bounce quickly with each sharp laugh. He is getting a kick out of you freaking out. Suddenly, you realize you two are really close, too close for comfort. He senses your body language switch and suddenly returns to a more calm and collected state. He can feel his laughter fade as a small smile sits on his lips. He can feel his heart pick up as he locks eyes with yours as he resists the urge to pull you closer or look at your lips. You look even more beautiful up close as he notices the faint freckles peppering your cheeks and nose.

You stop as you lock eyes for a minute. Steve is a few inches taller than you but you two are face to face. Inches away from eachother. You examine his face close up. His hair is slightly disheveled with strands hang in front of his eyes. He has moles freckling his face like stars on a clear night. Your eyes flit down to his lips as you notice how cheery red they look close up. Quickly you look at him again, fearful of getting caught staring. You could feel your cheeks slightly blush and turn warm as you just stare into Steve’s brown sparkly eyes. The more you try to pull away, the more they pull you in. Steve feels the same way as he feels nervousness creep up from his core as his lips curve into a slight smile. He pulls the book down as he continues to lock eyes with yours. He has no idea how long it’s been. His mind is mush as he finds himself darting from your eyes to your lips..

“Here.” He whispers breathlessly as he hands you the book slightly backing up but keeping the eye contact.

“Thanks.” You reply as you blush a little harder now as you walk to your desk to place the book down and then you both return to the spot on the bed and continue.

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In a matter of a two weeks, you two have gotten extremely close. You would if never imagined that you would be good friends with the most popular guy in school, the one all you’re friends tell you to stay away from.. yet he just draws you in. The endless amounts of nights where he calls you on the phone asking about homework as it suddenly turns into a three hour call where you two ramble about random topics. You’re falling faster than you thought you would.. crumbling as he created cute nicknames for you and knows everything that makes you tumble over in laughter. He’s a complete opposite of you and your morals, yet you two seem to attract like a magnet.

Steve has learned to know you like a book, using his charismatic and charming personality he knows exactly what makes you blush or makes you laugh. As the study sessions go on, he picks up on your body language and your habits. He enjoys listening to you ramble for hours on end about friends or your family. He’s never really felt such an instant connection with someone before especially only knowing them for a few weeks now.

Today marks the last study session before Steve’s test. The last time you’ll see him roll his eyes at a physics question, the last time he will tease you about your stupidly high grades and how smart you are, the last time you two don’t focus on the task and do other things. You feel sadness forming in your heart hoping that after this, he continues to want to talk on the phone or even hang out. You love seeing him wave and smile at you in school or meeting you at your locker to talk. But you’re scared, you’re scared that he’s gonna put on his cocky jock attitude and won’t speak to you again… completely cut you out. You’ve seen a different side to him that you’ve never seen before. He’s sweet, considerate, and gentle around you. Never fails to have you think about him endlessly once he leaves your house or you hang up on the phone…

Little do you know, he feels the same. The same feeling poking him in the gut, the feeling where you want to hold on and never let go.

You’re suprised when your doorbell rings earlier than usually. You glance at the small watch on your left wrist as it reads “4:00 pm.” But you two agreed on 7:00 pm the night prior. You quickly brush your hair behind your shoulders as you open the door.

“Hey Steve, you’re early.” You say with a smile as you notice him blushing a bit in embarrassment. His cheeks are a slight pink as he smiles at you.

“Uh hey Y/N, sorry I’m early.” He pauses for a second. “Are you busy? Am I interrupting anything?” He asks a little more concerned now as the blush intensifies on his cheeks.

You shake your head as you chuckle a bit. “No.. no.. you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Okay good, I was wondering if I could just come now.. I know it’s our last night so I wanted some extra practice before the test tomorrow morning.” He says reading your face for an answer.

Now if he was Pinocchio, his nose would grow larger.. because he is lying. His pants are on fire.

“Of course, come on in!” You say with an enthusiastic smile as you move to the side to let him in.

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“Okay last physics question, I promise.” You say with a teasing smile as he rolls his eyes. You ask him a pretty difficult question as you could see the gears practically turning in his head. He answers correctly as a beaming smile forms on your lips. You notice the pure excitement on his face at your reaction.

Steve cannot help but to feel his heart flutter to see the reaction you just gave him. A huge proud beaming smile.. one that makes him want to melt into a big puddle on your bed. He thinks your reaction is the cutest thing, you’re the cutest thing and he feels like it’s the right time to ask his question.

Once you two calm down a bit and all the books are put away, you’re staring Steve right in the face. He’s just smiling gently at you, his eyes dazzling in the soft light of your room. You feel the butterflies form in your stomach as you break the comfortable silence.

“How do you feel for tomorrow? Good? Bad?”

“I think I’ll be okay, pretty nervous” He says with a shrug as he smiles a bit hesitant at you, you notice how his demeanor has changed. He seems more nervous and quiet now.

“You’ll do great, trust me!” You say trying to lighten the mood as you earn a smile from him. You give him a comforting smile as you grab his hand and hold it in yours gently squeezing it.

Your touch practically sends Steve to the moon. He just feels so happy, he feels all the nerves and worries washing away as you gently hold his hand in comfort. He truly believes every word you’re saying.

He clears his throat before asking a bit nervously. He’s been thinking about this plan all night and all day. He wants to celebrate with you, regardless if he passes or not. He wants to treat you for volunteering your time to help him. And of course, he just wants to spend some time with you. You make his day with these sessions as you constantly giggle at his jokes making his heart soar or seeing you smile so beautifully. You’re like treasure to him, he wants to cherish you forever.

“Y/N, do you possibly want to go and get ice cream with me when it’s all done and over with… like a celebration type of thing?” He asks with a gentle smile as a hint of pink crowds his cheeks.

You let his statement settle in the air as you feel your heart pick up at the words. Without a second thought you reply, “I would love too, Steve!” You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you smile unstoppably at him. You see his eyes open wide in happiness in response as the smile grows bigger on his freckled cheeks.

Head over heels..

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

Steve has refused to tell you the outcome of his test until you two were seated on the back trunk of his car indulging in your ice creams. His treat, of course.

“So Steve…” You say pausing to swallow. “What did you get?” You push the spoon around the sprinkled covered ice cream as you wait for him to respond.

Steve places his icecream down as you copy him looking at him more curious now. You watch the sides of his mouth curve into a grin. “I passed, everything!” He says excitedly. You can’t help but to squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around him for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” You say muffled against his shoulder. You can feel his broad arms wrap around your lower back as he hugs you back. You can feel the sudden chill from the ice cream melt away.

You pull away as you look him dearly in the eyes with a sincere smile on your face. “See, I told you that you could do it!” You say smiling even wider. You’re so so so happy, this made your day.. your week even.

Steve has never seen you this happy for anything ever. Heck, Steve has never even had anyone this happy for him. He just feels this overwhelming sense of accomplishment and joy that fills his entire body.

You both are now just looking at each other with huge smiles, enjoying the comfortable silence. Steve feels like he should make a move, before he loses you. He’s afraid that after this, your friendship could disappear. You would go back to your friends and he would hang out with his. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to be with you.

“So what was the final sc-“ You’re interrupted mid sentence as he presses his lips delicately against yours. You gasp into his lips as your eyes dart shut. His hand gently caresses your cheek as your body freezes. He pulls apart smiling and blushing madly as he looks at you lovingly. You just stare like a dear in headlights at him. You’re shocked and can’t even process what just happened.

Steve Harrington just kissed you.

Your cheeks are a crimson color now as you smile shyly at him. Without a second thought, it’s your turn to confess how you feel. And by this, you press your lips against his once more. His lips are pillowy soft and taste sweet from the ice cream. One of your hands cups his cheek while the other rests gently on his shoulder. You can feel his hand come and press against your lower back as he pulls you closer to him as the other pulls hair behind your ear delicately. You pull apart with a smile as you become nervous and shy around him. You can feel the absence on your lips as butterflies course through your tummy.

Steve is genuinely surprised that you feel the same way. He would never think that you, a smart and determined girl would ever fall in love with a dumb, cocky jock. He’s only known you for about a month now but it feels like it’s been years. You two just instantly clicked. Maybe opposites do attract..

He just feels overwhelming happy as he just stares at you with the biggest gushy smile and sparking eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you two just watch the sun set behind the trees, feeling totally in love.

Maybe people aren’t as bad as they seem..

People can change, people can grow..

And all you know, is you love Steve for who he is and who he became..

Because the lies were erased clean off the page.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

thank you for reading!! <3 hope you enjoyed the fic!!

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #fanfic #joe keery stranger things #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #enimes to lovers #school

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bluwavez · 4 months ago

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LIKE WATER is the FIRST FULL ALBUM by soloist FINN LEE. It was released on AUGUST 19TH, 2024, by MyDol Entertainment. The album features nine tracks, including the lead singles "Mmmh" and "The Rizz, " which Finn would promote for six weeks. Mmmh would win twelve music show awards, while The Rizz would win seven. Mmmh would secure a Perfect All Kill just four hours after the album's release, making him the fastest MyDol soloist to achieve this.

Composing the album himself, Finn is the only credited producer and songwriter on the album, making this a first in DeepDive history. Typically, DeepDive members or Mydol artists will make appearances on each other's albums, but Finn had no one but himself listed in the credits of his songs besides J.SUNG, CLEE, and Dowon being listed as composers.

The only actual collaboration on the album is with Jellib member Minyoung on the song Dinner, which Finn also wrote and produced. When listing out his favorite songs on the album, he ranked Dinner third, right under Mmmh and The Rizz.

FIND MINYOUNG AT @ratedstar !

Finn talked in depth about the process of choosing his title tracks being a hard and strenuous one. He loved all the songs so much that he spent three days convincing Jinhwa to let him perform all the tracks on music shows at least once.

TRACK OO1. BAD BOY

TRACK OO2. Mmmh

TRACK OO3. Nothing On Me

TRACK OO4. Really Big–

TRACK OO5. The Rizz

TRACK OO6. Be Honest

TRACK OO7. Dinner Ft. Minyoung

TRACK OO8. Reason

TRACK OO9. Vanilla

"Working on this album was such a dream. Every time, I would make a song for it. I'd be in disbelief because, wow, this is my album. It felt amazing to make music for just myself. I'm so grateful." Finn explained during his debut showcase that the smile could not be wiped from his face for the entire show. He would also reveal that there were originally twelve tracks, but three were cut from the final version.

That didn't stop him from performing them, though! NO REGRETS, 200, and SMOKE were the three aforementioned unreleased tracks that Finn would perform at his showcase, leaving fans begging for official releases, even trending "RELEASE THE SONGS" and "WHERE'S SMOKE?" on Twitter.

"They'll come out one day. I'll make sure they're on the second album," Finn would say on a live stream, laughing obnoxiously before logging into his Roblox account to play Dress to Impress with fans, a favorite pastime of his.

IS THAT YOUR SONG? The Rizz sparked major in fighting with Sirens as the song initially belonged to Noah, slated to be on his now scrapped debut mini album. When the song was on Noah's album, he was credited as a writer and producer, but when the song was on Finn's album, Noah was nowhere to be seen. Noah fans, professionally known as nuchis, would absolutely riot at this and demand a statement from Finn, Noah, Mydol, or all three. The company stayed silent and so did Finn until a fan brought it up during a virtual fan sign, holding up a sign with the question, "Will you please address The Rizz controversy?" to which Finn simply shook his head and said "No, I can't. Sorry." and would urge the fan to change the subject, looking disinterested.

TROUBLED WATERS? The Rizz controversy would cause Sirens to look harder at the pictures posted by DeepDive regarding Finn's solo debut. Every member except Noah made a lengthy Instagram post to congratulate Finn on his solo debut and attend his debut showcase, and even their former member, Han, showed up to the showcase to show support for Finn. Noah never attended a single music show for Finn or even liked a photo of him during the Like Water promotions. Speculations began to swirl around that the two had beef, which proved more and more likely the longer promotions continued. Guppies, Finn's fanbase, would chalk this behavior up to Noah being bitter that Finn's solo debut actually came to fruition while he was shelved before release. Noah would have to temporarily disable comments on his social media posts due to the amount of hate he was getting from guppies despite never saying anything about the situation.

SHOULDN'T SHE BE IN PRISON? This scandal began after a new DeepDive stan posted a video of Lee Hyerim, longtime manager of DeepDive, fixing Finn's hair while at a fansign before patting his head like a dog, causing Finn to smile cutely. While the clip is cute on the surface, nunchis, seemingly on a mission to make this entire era about an entirely different member, would step in with receipts of Hyerim being creepy and predatory towards the boys all the way back to their debut in 2016. This thread would blow up, sparking mass discussions amongst K-pop fans about grooming, abuse of power, and Mydols negligence on the matter. So, of course, Twitter was a cesspool, and so was TikTok. Mydol, for once, released a statement on the matter, stating: "The allegations made against a Mydol staff member are baseless and will be met with legal ramifications if continued to be spread." Resulting in the thread, which reached a peak of 22k retweets and 67k likes, being deleted but not forgotten.

YOU CAN GET YOUR LIKE WATER PHOTOCARDS HERE!

˗ ˋ 🌊 WANNA GET THE LOOK ?!

#˗ ˋ 🌊 dive deeper ﹕ discography !#fictional kpop community #fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #fictional idol group #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #idolverse #bts addition #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #stray kids addition #fictional idol oc

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sillygoblinantics · 1 month ago

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And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!!!

Gobbo’s Semi-Complete Pokémon Retrospective!!!

Pt. 4 (the finale?)

The reason I’m writing this began when I first watched @agramuglia’s streams watching Lily orchard’s pokemon retrospective on YouTube. Many things I learned about the games and many things stated by Lily I loathed, but Anthony was only able to get up to 8/9 generations. So I thought I’d take it upon myself to power through her gen 9 segment. I lost my mind over it and multiple times did she make uncomfortable innuendos and made points that didn’t make sense. You can read my thoughts on her gen nine segment in my post ““Jock Imoen”” as I will be focusing on everything Lily failed to notice here.

Gen IX

Let’s get this out of the way as I know this is a big part of these games.

The glitches: yes they’re a big and many people find them ridiculously funny or obnoxiously deplorable, but many who don’t know is that they’ve been apart of the franchise for a while and can still be used to the players’ advantage as a quick rich strategy or for silly shenanigans like invisibike (see below image)

But main reason for this as well as the complete exclusion of interiors of homes was due in part to a running problem in both animation and game industry across the globe: rushed deadlines and of course the toxic and deadly Crunchtime. You can find many concepts and fully modeled spaces that we never got to see in the region of Paldea. This also includes Legends Arceus with an early cut intro scene that has our trainer beginning in their room in current day Sinnoh, some data miners (shoutout to y’all working hard and finding this stuff! You’re amazing!) found a completely modeled room that resembled the bedroom from the gen four house!

And I’m aware that there needs to be voice acting but honestly that takes away from the fun of imagining the characters’ voices based on the way they talk in the dialogue! It’s fun and meant to be fun for the children audience!

☆*.｡˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★。˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★

The world of Paldea

Region

Paldea is based on Spain but also Portugal (I still somehow struggle spelling this countries name I’m sorry TwT) and the Iberian peninsula! So while incorporating Spanish the game also has Portuguese in it! And because how Spain is geographically next to France, the inclusion to the academy teaching French or in Pokémon terms Kalosian. (Which was our hint for legends ZA and was for two years!!!) it’s a gorgeous region and on point to the real world places and towns they pull from.

Pokémon

We once again get new regional variants of old pokemon but we also get what has to be my favorite addition into the biology and ecology of the pokemon world: convergent evolutions! Pokemon that either evolved from the same ancestor but splitting off around a different point in time or pokemon who evolved in a way to resemble something or another pokemon to stay safe.

Wooper and cloddsire

Toadscool and toadscruel

Wigglett and wugtrio

We also got new evolutions for old pokemon! The gen two normal psychic giraffe: girafarig finally getting an evolution that combines the two heads in a balance union of strength but also astronaut giraffe hehe. We also got the beyond metal and gruesome revenant of an ape, Annihilape the ghost fighting type powerhouse of an evolution of Primape! And the king of the chess board evolution of Bisharp, Kingambit.

In both dlcs we get a new split evolution and third evolution of said split of applin, dipplin and hydrapple. And (forgot the name of the one building dragon)

We also get SO MANY GOOD BOIS IN GEN NINE! But not every good boi 😔… we get three new dog pokemon all good and each unique in their own respected way… I STILL DONT HAVE SHINY GREAVARD YET BUT I GOT THE OTHER TWO— sorry… got side tracked.

Something I will mention is a personal gripe over the exclusion of a specific fruit bearded pokemon from getting a new regional variant, tropius. Who if I had the chance to would make them vary based on where they can be caught by having new fruit or veggie being grown in place of the bananas! Which I did for my pokemon comic with Ripley’s tropius, Dionysus by giving him a beard of grapes! Maybe we’ll get more for tropius in generation 10!

Before I move on I’d like to to go over the game exclusive pokemon, something never mentioned or addressed how to obtain in Lily orchard’s video: let’s get this out of the way now by talking about the two forms of Paldean Tauros. In Scarlet; the past, primal, untamed gives us the fire fighting form of Tauros matching thematically with its game. In Violet; the future, technical and controlled (for the most part) gives us the water fighting form of Tauros (who can swim and his tail acts as a lil rudder to move him x3)

Lily leaves out one of the new pokemon of Paldea too, Charcadet a small fiery in the most literal sense charcoal knight who has game exclusive evolutions. Who need specific pokemon materials to obtain evolutionary items sets of armor. Lily fails to explain this so her audience is left not knowing that ceruledge is exclusive to violet while the psychic/fire evolution Armarouge, so the speculation of how she got it is left in the air and most likely not mentioned because she got it from someone else most likely lolo. So yeah.

☆*.｡˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★。˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★

Gimmicks!

I nearly forgot to mention the most impactful connective addition to these games! Union circles! A feature meant to let players connect with friends (given in range without Nintendo online or via the internet with Nintendo online) which allows for many fun shenanigans to take place especially during battles or cutscenes, but is expanded on with the indigo disk via the synchromode which…

☆*.｡˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★。˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★

Treasure

The three arc or side plots if we look at them through a tv sitcom or series structure. I’m talking about the ABC Plot system. Where the A plot is the main storyline and B and C follow different stories where by the third act we come together to face or wrap up the stories of B and C. We see this in Arven’s Titan quest, Nemona’s victory road, and Penny’s Starfall mission. Arven is the A plot as we learn that he’s trying to get to area zero to confront his parent(s) and needs two more people to join the journey that fill a specific role which is where Nemona and Penny come in! You will cry if you haven’t played yet so keep that in mind and be sure to take the classes as they provide more context into the layers these characters have! Enjoy this clip btw

Let’s head to the smallest addition and slice into the rural side of the Japanese region of the Pokémon world: Kitikami

☆*.｡˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★。˚✧⁎⁺˳✧༚˚✧₊⁺˳✧༚★

But this sadly or luckily has to be split into another part as I’ve been going on for a while here but I hope you enjoyed it! So the last LAST FINAL part! Will be about the DLCs and epilogue so stay tuned for the intro of the bestest girl that is ogerpon!

#Gobbo’s semi-complete Pokémon Retrospective #gobbo spergs about Pokémon #pokémon scarlet and violet #lily orchard critical #pokemon sv

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sirenmoth · 9 months ago

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Sunshine

CW: ANGST, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, hurt/no comfort, blood, violence, war, song fic, sorry not sorry (yes this is a mix between MW2 2009 and MW3 2023...kinda)

I am not paying for anyones therapy after this (ngl tired up a bit while writing this)

I know i mentied i would write this for someone but i cant find the og post, sorry if you are that person

"SOAP!"

The bomb detonated, the room exploded in a mess of smoke and debris, his body thrown out the window of the building and landing on the harsh concrete below, the blood a deep red was seeping into the cracks on the concrete, it was obvious from where Price stood, he rushed over to his fallen comrades body, helping him up as best as possible without hurting him even more, trying to get him to safety before it was too late, but the blood on his and Soap's clothes was more than enough evidence it might be an impossible task.

Nikolai and Yuri were at the front and back of the duo, scanning and taking out any hostile they spotted while the Captain held his teammates' barely conscious body against his own, taking most of the Scotsman's weight as they ventured though the battlefield riddled streets, a small trail of blood was behind them, but Price tried not to think about it, but the more blood he lost the more Captain Price began to worry.

Gunshots and explosions rang out from every direction around him, Price struggled to keep his injured Sergeant, his brother in arms, awake. Barely making it to cover as the bullets rained down around them in a war-torn and dusty building, it will have to do. Gaz and Ghost arrived just as Price got Soap towards a table in the centre of the room.

Soap was trying to say something, but Price couldn't hear it over his own voice shouting for a medic.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆

Laying the Scotsman down on the wooden table, Gaz tried desperately to stop the bleeding, tried to keep Soap talking while he aided the bleeding with the help of Ghost, hoping the wounded man could hold on just long enough until the medics arrived. Price stood at the end, next to Soap's head, shouting and screaming orders at people, shooting at the window at any hostiles, trying to keep the man on the table alive while he bleeds onto the wood below him.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒚

It was hard, watching the one many considered and referred to as the light of the Task Force, their shining sun who never failed to brighten someone's day, even if he didn't like them or knew them, lay limp and struggling to breath in front of them, choking on his own blood and tongue, watching try desperately to cling to life, Ghost tried to remain calm in hopes if we rub off on the others, but even the Captain could see he was breaking. Gaz already had tears lining his waterline while attending to the never stopping stream of blood coming from Soaps abdomen, his eyes blurry with tears, while the man who laid before him had the light draining from his.

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪

The regrets and unspoken words filled and danced around the three men's mind, things they said and never, as well as things they never said nor did. The times they would listen to Johnny ramble for hours, unable to understand him when his accent got too thick, the times they shunned him for being loud and obnoxious. Talking about emotional problems and feelings wasn't a big thing on the Task Force, the four choose to remain private about their struggles, even Soap, but that never stopped him from being emotionally expressive and attempting to get the others to do the same, only succeeding partially with Kyle and Price, Ghost would never admit it worked on him to. He never shied away from telling them how much he appreciated them and loved them, how he enjoyed their company and time together. If only they said it back.

𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮

The medics finally showed up, and Price had half a mind to yell at them for being late, but he knew that wouldn't do any good. The medics shooed away Gaz and Ghost from their comrades body, shouting and saying thing none of them understood as they cut open Soap's tried to clean and pack the wound with gauze and antiseptic, checking his pulse and breathing, until they didn't, until they stopped everything and moved away from the Sergeant.

Price shouted at them to do their job, "What the bloody hell are you doing? You're supposed to help people, so fucking help him." But they medics just looked at each other, then back at the Captain, and shook their head, that's when they knew why they stopped.

Johnny, their sunshine, was gone.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝘼𝙨 𝙞 𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜

The days after the Sergeants' death were painful, the nights were worse. John's mind replayed the incident over and over in his head like a film stuck on loop, unable to stop the reel from projecting the same images time after time. How could have things gone differently? Could things have gone differently? Maybe is he tried better, worked harder, Soap would still be here, alive and well. If he hadn't signed Johnny back into active duty so early after his medical leave, maybe he would be alive back in his north Glasgow flat or sitting beside them at some sleazy pub that was close to base.

𝙄 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙄𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨

Sometimes on those extra rough days, when his mind felt cruel and the need to punish him, it would show Price a dream of Johnny alive, in a hospital bed recovering from his injuries and smiling like nothing happened. The Task Force around him, each giving their own forms of physical affection to the man in the hospital bed attached to an IV, talking about a pub he wants to visit when he's relived. The jokes and laughter that filled the air, the four of them together, alive and well, like it's meant to be, but it was too real, all too good to be true.

Price was never ready to face reality after those dreams, he could see the toll of the missing member is having on the remaining ones.

𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙖𝙬𝙤𝙠𝙚, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣

Every night was the same, dream of his Sergeants death, wake in a cold startle, and wait for the reality of it all to sink back in. The base was quiet, too quiet, too dull and lifeless, rec room and mess hall never had the same warmth and spark it once had, like Johnny took it with him. Price noted it in the other two, watching them as they stared as now empty spaces the dead Scotsman used to once occupy, sometimes it felt like Soap took something of them as well when he died. His room left untouched, undisturbed, everything was as he left behind, exactly the same. Price felt like they were waiting for him to come back, knowing it would never happen.

𝙎𝙤 𝙄 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙

Walking into Mactavish's old barracks room, the previous dream still heavy on his mind. John finally let himself go, crying silently to an empty room as he pleaded to the air to Soap to come back, how he should've done better, how he failed his men and his position as Captain to protect them and bring them home safe and sound.

But now he was another fallen soldier's blood on his already permanently stained hands.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚

Captain Price had to deliver the news of Soaps passing to Mrs. Mactavish, let her know what happened to her baby boy, her adoring son, and why he hasn't answered her monthly calls. He couldn't look her in her eyes, the same eyes Soap once had as her pained wails and sobs reached his ears, her sorrow and grief and heartache made John's own heart stop, watching her mourn the fact her darling boy was never coming home to her again.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙮

The base never the same, the Task Force was never the same. Their shining sun, so bright and warm, had burned through its life cycle and fizzled into nothing more than ash and dust. Mrs. Mactavish was kind enough to give them a small share of her sons ashes in an urn, knowing how much they meant to Johnny after listening to him rant about the men over their phone calls, saying it's the least she could do for them, her smile never reaching her eyes when she handed them her cremated son, the dull life and dep mourning sorrow ever present in the once bright blue eyes.

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪

Standing now in the highlands, Johnny always said they should visit and gave recommendations as to where for each of them, talking about his childhood there and how stunningly breathtaking it is, how the scenery fells unreal at times, like a painting came to life. They never thought the first time the place Soap held so dear would be his funeral, that visiting the Scottish Highlands meant scattering his ashes over the loch he grew up near. The sun setting over the water, casting a wonderful view, Price would have admired it and commented on how Johnny was right, if he wasn't here to say goodbye to one of his closet friends.

"He was the best of us"

"The toughest"

"Would've fought the world bear handed"

They hold the urn to say their farewells, silently wishing this wasn't happening and the reality they are living, silently giving their sorry's. Could he hear them from wherever he is?

"Who dares wins, sleep easy solider"

"See you down range, brother. We'll take it from here"

"Rest in peace, Johnny"

The urn opens, and they let his ashes scatter in the wind, watching them dance and sway wherever it took them. With the sunset it made it easy for Price to think he could see Johnny one last time, dancing in the late evening sky, before the wind carried him away to what came next.

𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮

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