#toddler classes near me

[jolalibrary]

be good, be quiet

joel miller x f!reader | joel masterlist

GIF credit to the amazing @perotovar who i adore, and i'm grateful adores me.

summary: bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. sneaking around (so to speak). p in v. fingering. joel angst. you riding joel. jo's spelling. praise kink. joel trying to keep you quiet (by sticking his fingers in your mouth). feelings, but joel-feelings.

AN: thanks as always to @thetriumphantpanda for leaving me comments in the document that made me feel less scared about posting. and also to @swiftispunk for being a cheerleader when i threw a snippet at her like a toddler with a drawing.

All unannounced, it rumbles in. Creeping in, bringing clouds that snuff light and immense claps of thunder. It’s the kind of storm that has lightning that even the shadows can’t hide from. Makes the house creak, groan—it pleading, weeping in its persistence to stand up straight and not cower.

It’s also the only reason the two of you are allowed to stay.

Joel hears the whispers, tuned in until they grow into near shouts in a room next to the one you and him are standing in. If you’re listening, you make no effort to show it—head turned, staring out as the rain thrashes down, eyes following certain droplets as they run down the pane.

Honestly, he doesn’t even want to fucking stay.

Had folded his arms to indicate as such when it was suggested. But, as he stares at you, he knows he doesn’t want you in it—recalling not all that long ago when you had shivered for days. You’d barely been able to speak full sentences as you remained curled in a ball he couldn’t unfurl, all cold to the touch, clinging to him as your teeth rattled in your skull.

It’s the only reason he’s grateful Frank forces Bill’s hand. His tongue piercing, delivering a fine—all razor-like, cutting, his voice booming that the two of you were to sleep in separate rooms.

He could have argued, could have glared, tilted his head—he didn’t. Not as the house shook with another crack of thunder, an idea sprouting, digging itself deep and blooming out across the wasteland living inside of him.

It’s why he plays along. Taking the fresh clothes, the offering of a shower, bidding you a goodnight loud enough for them to hear downstairs, a kiss to your cheek to sign it—burying a smirk under it all.

The whim pulsating, throbbing under his skin—not doused by the cooling temperature of the shower or his hand gripping the base of his half-hard cock. Memories, tinged with blackened edges brimming as he steps from the steam, thinking, ticking—

Waiting.

Waiting for the house to go mute in between the cries of the weather.

Waiting to strike, to prowl—a champion at it, awarded best in class.

Then, he tires from it.

Throwing the covers back, the soles of his feet meet the wood on the thunder. The ticking clock in the corner syncs with his racing heart, desperate to be quiet, maintain mouse-like footsteps, careful—as silent as he is when he moves through buildings that screech and click.

The door you’re behind is at the end of the hallway—shut, closed. A metaphorical do not disturb struck across it from the glare the two of you had been given before Bill had shrunk off to bed.

He didn’t care, not as the drops of water dripped from his hair down his neck, sliding under the fabric that didn’t belong to him. Fingers reaching out for the door handle, all set to twist, when it opens, metal pulled away from him—draping him and the dull flowered carpet in warm orange.

“Jo—“

He’s quick, hand smothering your exclamation, muffling your words. Covering them with his palm, enjoying how soft your skin feels even under it, as he raises his other hand, finger to his mouth—escorted by a glare, a silent order—before dropping it to your hips, grabbing, digging into you as he begins to walk you backwards. You move easily with him, pressing yourself flush to him, all trusting, reading him like a damn book.

“Were y’coming to find me?”

It leaves his tongue in a rasp.

And the look you give him makes his cock even harder than it already had been. Reminding him he’s too worn, too old to be doing shit like this—but fuck does he want to. Lay there, thinking of only you. Mind lost out at sea, bobbing along gentle waves of how you feel wrapped around him, that whimper you make when he flattens his palm to your spine, slides in, fills you, hips flush with yours.

You’re good, because you nod, no words—not making another noise. Your hand slips past him, shutting the door as your chest remains flush with his—the door happy, gleeful to return to its frame. He slides his hand from your mouth, moving to wrap it around the back of your neck, your chin tilted up without so much as a request.

Then, you smile, soft, almost innocent. But he knows you’re no angel—you’re something carved from molten and destruction, but fuck are you pretty. The kind that leaves an outline on the back of his eyelids. The kind that he suspects would turn heads, if you didn’t look like you wished to disembowel them for even looking. Plus, you’re always with him, eyes on him, enamoured, enchanted—

You shouldn't.

Not when he’s poison, slowly feeding you with drops—rotting your insides and blackening your soul. Watching you slowly being made in the shape of his past, carved, narrative rewritten and a future fading, before you get to live it, because of his company. A price scratched against your name.

But, you chose him—leave a mark, Miller. And he did, does. He paints himself on your spine, ropes of white whenever he can; he makes the juncture between your thighs slick with the mess he makes of you. More you whine, and that’s when it changed. When it became less about mindless distraction and more about possession, care, something else fucking entirely—

He pulls your ear to his mouth, your body relaxing, going limp—catching the scent of freshly washed skin. “Ima need you to be a good girl and be quiet. Can y’do that?”

Joel catches the smirk before you blink it away. Your teeth digging into your lip, nodding, catching the reflection of him as lightning floods the room—a sight that undoes him, affects him even though he’ll never show it. Because how much you want him scares him, makes him feel something other than numb, muted grief and disgrace.

The two of you don’t kiss, but he ghosts his lips over yours all the same. Something about the room makes it more intimate, romantic, normal.

“Not like you to break the rules.”

You snort, fingers knotting in his still-damp hair. “Well, I’m sure it’s equally not gentleman-like to sneak into a lady’s room.”

He grunts, and buries it in the back of his throat. Your tongue forces his hand, making him tug on the borrowed PJ bottoms you’re wearing. Palm flattening under the fabric covering your chest, resting it on your stomach, pausing, briefly feeling your heart beating, proof it isn't a fantasy, a dream, before sliding it down.

That’s when he focuses, basks in the feeling of nothing but the softness of your skin and the stories etched into it from surviving, from living. His fingers inching under the elastic and string, your eyes aflame, an inferno, and he wants you to burn him. Singe yourself into him, leave a mark, make it hurt.

“Stopped being a gentleman a while ago, honey.”

You’re wet. A truth two of his fingers feel, sliding them into your heat, suddenly enveloped by nothing but warmth and the sweet rose scent of the soap you washed your skin in. And it’s a comfort, eyes transfixed, all in awe as he watches you try to hold back a gasp—enjoying the way your nails dig into his neck, lashes fluttering and how you part your lips in a silent moan. He can make out what you’re saying is Joel. Each letter inscribed, even in a muted whisper. J-O-E-L.

He already decides he misses the way you sound. A new craving, a new need to make you sing—make your body break out into music, remind him how sweet something can sound when the world is nothing but grievous behaviour and murder.

It’s why he likes when your back is pressed to his chest, knees sore as he pistons in and out of you on the shitty mattress in the shitty room back in the QZ.

Because you can be loud, unfiltered.

There is no need to muffle back how good it feels what he’s doing to you, you can be unhinged, hiss his name, moan through gritted teeth if you’re trying to punish him. He hears them all the same, collects them. Stores them, and uses them to keep the last shard of him intact from all the loss and survival—the part of him he occasionally shows you. Usually in the dark, more morning than night, your chest flush to his back, not asleep, but not fully awake.

But, he can’t collect them here, can’t risk it here—slowing his movements down, hearing you fight it, struggling, being strangled by the moan you want to let breathe.

“C’mon baby, you know how to be quiet. Y’so good when we’re surrounded by clickers. This is no different.”

Narrowing your eyes, you whimper as the base of his palm catches your bundle of nerves. “You’re not—fuck, Joel—usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.”

The corners of his lips twitch. It slides up into one of his cheeks, making a home there—all temporary, only something you seem to pull from him. “Guess I’ll have to help y’out then, won’t I?”

Your eyes narrow briefly before he does. Snaking two fingers—index and middle—past your lips, pressing down onto your tongue, continuing the movements of his other hand, the one pumping his fingers inside of you, coating himself in you.

He learns, quickly, that the pressure applied to your tongue does little to muffle your moan, but the clap of thunder smothers the rest. The way it bleeds out, shakes everything, allowing you a chance to whimper, whine and moan. Eyes digging into his, begging, pleading—

And, he could watch you for hours like this. At his mercy, hanging on the edge—shimmered with a light sheen of sweat and desperation swirling in your eyes. It’s the only time you’re weak, that you show him you can be vulnerable, soft, your edges smoothed down.

It’s why it takes him by surprise when he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking on them, staring into his fucking soul like you could repair all it had been through. Fuck he’d let you try when you look at him like that.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, sliding his palm from your face, resting it on the wall by your head.

“You’ve fucked me on a forest floor, Joel. Don’t act so surprised.”

He lets you have that one—rewarding you for it. Unable to tear his gaze away when you’re overcome with it, stilling, tensing, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you constrict, breathing laboured, rapid breaths before you slant his name across his lips. Stain it. Bury the gratitude and relief as you slide your tongue past his teeth, worming into another part of him, a place he realises he’s wanted you to own. Wants to swallow it, have you rooted under his skin—

“Get on the bed.”

“No,” you rasp, grasping his wrist from between your thighs, bringing his fingers to your lips, tongue swirling before you release them with a pop. “Floor. Bed creaks.”

Another flash, another rumble—it allowing him to take in the expression spreading over your face. The calm, sleepy edge to your smile, all thanks to him. It sears into his skull, makes a home, and buries into a crevice he’ll never be able to scrape you from.

Least of all when you turn, shedding your clothes without aid—stripping himself as you busy ripping sheets to the floor, pillows scattering, a teenager's sleepover dream strewn across the carpeted floor. One he has you lay down on, sliding his mouth over the parts of you he hasn’t yet touched—lapped and enjoyed. Leaving a trail, a path of desire against your skin, your nails finding a home in his scalp, awarding him with gasps, small medals compared to the trophy of before.

“Wanna go on top,” you mewl, hand on his, pausing his hips from connecting with yours. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

“Think you can handle it.”

It’s perfectly timed, almost comically, the way lightning sparks through the room—your glare more than sharp, digging into him, spacing out his insides until he’s nothing but bone.

He knows you can, but he likes taunting you. Enjoys the way your eyes lick flames across his skin, that your tone can be curt with him, gaze sharpened, pointing.

Joel likes being under you. Has a fondness for the weight of you on him and how your thighs feel on either side of him. Mostly, he likes what it says—what it gives you. An assurance you never ask for and he can never provide, because he can’t give you much, a lot, anything. He’s not good, kind or soft—he won’t trace three words against your shoulder and fan his hand out over your back as he tells you you’re a tempest on two legs, a thing which takes his breath, makes him crave, makes him want, makes him wish.

“You can do it—can take it, take me.”

“I know,” you bite back, lining the head of him at your slit.

It almost makes him snigger. That fury in you, that little determined flame that won’t ever be doused, becoming an inferno in your indignation. So, he whispers your name, fingers crawling up your neck, watching the space your bodies join as you sink down on him.

And he’s in awe as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch, the lightest hiss from under your breath caressing the air as your hips go flush with his.

“Feel good don’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes closed, head rolled back fingers digging, half-curling into his stomach. “You always feel good, Joel.”

Your velvet wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, all slick and needy. It tugs at him, and makes him for a moment feel like a man and not a carved-out monster who keeps fighting to live another day, for some reason or another. He supposes you wouldn’t let him have it any other way, would fight him and anyone else tooth and nail on it. You’re fierce like that, a difficult fucking thing he’s come across and now wishes to never lose.

“So big,” you whine in a whisper.

Lit up by the storm. It casts flickering shadows over your breasts over the muscles that contort as you roll your hips—if it lingered longer, he’d have been able to witness how wild your eyes were, how slick it is where the two of you are conjoined. Evidenced ruin, a sight he’d pull up in his mind when he’s alone, and you’re busy, and he pretends his fist is close to how you feel.

“Y’doin’ so well for me.”

Another flash grants him the chance to study your parted lips, the way your lashes hang over your cheek. It’s a sight, a fucking delight. An extra breath of oxygen and an anchor to keep him here all at once. A thing which didn’t cling, but had sunk its nails into him all the same—I’m not letting go, and you’re not going to ask me to.

You never say those words, but they hang—attached to string and bunting, a banner of sorts. One that isn’t wrong. A realisation that feels larger here than at the QZ. Surrounded by ornate white furniture and floral patterns, a room which has remained untouched, unspoiled—almost making him feel like a person he used to know. The one who he occasionally spots in the mirror, hanging back in his reflection.

It fucks with his mind. Makes him relaxed, and unwinds the stress from his bones as he plants his feet on the ground and rocks with you. Enjoys your moans, soft, bitten back but likely screamed in your head.

A thought beating inside him, all closed fists hammering on ribs: because he never thought he’d get attached to someone. Never mind someone who appears so otherworldly, likely created to threaten, but he finds only fascinating. A soul who unlocks things within him, finds a way through cobwebs and vines.

Someone who makes him wonder how passion and despair, adoration and darkness can all exist inside of him. Especially without losing the parts which he needs to live, to protect, to save—while keeping the parts that have you coming back to him.

He’s sure you see it, though. You understand him, having peeled back the layers in time and seen the decay which lives within his chest. You’ve even traced your fingers over his scars, ear close to them, as if they’ll spill all their secrets. Even without answers, you remain by his side.

It’s what makes this time different. So much so, he lifts your hand from his chest, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles. All tender, soft. Your eyes twinkle, shimmering with something—lit up again—before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding you, helping you ride him, until he has a better idea, a better thought—

His palms almost lift you off him, just the tip remaining as you hover. Digging his thumb and fingers into your skin, leaving indents he can trace when he catches his breath, and he latches his mouth in the space under your breast. Kissing, drawing a circle with his tongue, before he sucks, nips. Intentionally leaving a flaw, signing his name in a signature only he’ll be able to admire—a piece of evidence that this is real, you’re real. Knowing it will be there in the trek back to the life the two of you live; present when you strip off and change, a blight on otherwise perfection, put there by him—another ruin in your life.

Because you could do better than him. A fact he knows, has put to bed but still occasionally turns over.

I chose you because you don’t expect perfection, you’re happy with just good.

Except, you’re more than good.

Your fingers brush over his cheek, soft, gentle. Far too much of both in his opinion. Then he lowers you back down, pussy taking every inch, the lightest hiss fluttering over him as he stares up at you. Transfixed, lost. Almost able to live a fantasy, allow himself to fall into a dreamlike state.

Because this, right in this room, could have been plucked from the world before. It normal, could pretend the two of you were in a room in some inn somewhere or a bedroom the two of you would have built together—hand-chosen ornate furniture and pleasant knick-knacks that adorn surfaces, wooden frames with pictures he could imagine you’d fill if this was real, and not a break in the reality.

“This what you wanted when you were coming t'look f’me?”

He sounds drunk, intoxicated, maybe he is. Having drank from you for so long, he’s more you than he is rotten. He assists you as he snaps his hips to yours, burying the thought in his movements. But, he’s breathing you in—tasting the air tinged with the two of you as you both pant, hunger rearing, desperate, wanting to collide and spark out across nerves, muscles and fucking bone.

Yes, you chant. Yes, yes, yes.

M���close, Joel. So close.

It falls in breathless swirls, a juxtaposition to how tight you are around him, knotting perfectly at the base of him. Sucking him in, keeping him rooted, the head of him finding that spot that makes your body loose and boneless.

“Doin’ so good for me, my good girl.”

So he fucks you harder, uncaring if the floorboards creak, if they protest and shout, he has to. A thing inside of him commanding it. This is all he can give, so give, give, give—

He feels your nails dig, half-moons slicing in—a new scar, one he’ll be thankful to trace. Next is your thighs and muscles tautening. Then, that flutter, the one he seeks, desperate to own, his prize, no one else's.

Mine, mine, fucking mine.

And, distantly, he’s aware he’s the one who pulls you down, but he’ll tell himself later it was you. Trick himself that you required it, even if it was he who needed it. His mouth slanting over yours, clinging to your jaw and cheek, tongue swirling over the moan that is bestowed to him, that hits and fucking pounds into him. Unable to hold on, barely a handful of thrusts before he’s grunting into your mouth, spilling into you, pouring unspoken words to the place between your thighs as you grasp at the tufts of hair on either side of his face.

Something about it makes you taste sweeter. A man like him should never get to experience it now, not this version of him, the act more forbidden, prohibited. It’s what makes him want to spread you out on the floor, lick the expanse between your thighs, taste the two of you—clean you with his mouth and smear you across his face until he’s dyed with the two of you.

Instead, he grasps you close when you collapse against his heaving chest. Palm, all rough, blotched with death, pressing against your cheek as he kisses you. Knowing he should get up and clean himself from between your legs; knowing he should go back to his room.

But he wants to remain on the floor. Enjoying this, whatever the fuck it is. Hand stroking your arm, your fingers drawing shapes as your mouth parts from him, flicking a warmer gaze over him, before lying on his chest.

Stay. Because of the storm.

It’s barely that, just droplets of rain occasionally kissing the glass of the windows.

But in his head, he wants to pretend a little longer. Live in some make-believe land that this is your two’s house, he found it—safety, built ease into your muscles, allowed the callouses to rid from clutching weapons you shouldn’t know how to use. That it’s just a night where the two of you can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where the two of you just feel safe.

“Sure,” he replies in a gruff. “F’the storm.”

Sighing in contentment, rather than annoyance, even if he knows there’s so much suspended in the air—words not spoken or shared.

He almost thinks he could. Almost thinks the moment calls for it—a little whisper, a selection of perfectly chosen words that would wrap you in the knowledge you mean something to him.

But, he thinks you know.

Hopes it, anyway.

AN: shout out to G, who had to listen to me ramble about this two months ago. i hope, once you read this, it's worth the wait.

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.2

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: angst, smoking, mention of vomiting, Remus spiralling, Peter being v worried, James being a doting mother hen, Sirius being a cheeky bastard.

Remus didn’t stay in potions that day.

He gave Professor Slughorn a hasty excuse and beelined it from the room, earning him bemused stares from Peter, James, and Sirius. He couldn’t stay there – he couldn’t breathe the air you’d been breathing – it hurt, it burned, it was too much. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” He huffed to himself as he shakily made his way to Gryffindor tower. He held his hand to his chest the whole way, heaving as if he was close to throwing up – he wasn’t fully convinced he that wouldn’t. 

As soon as he walked into (stumbled into) his dorm he flung the window open and shoved his head (most of his torso) out of the window – hungry for fresh air. The change in temperature and slight breeze did calm him slightly, but now he could hear Moony with renewed fervor. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. He seemed to be whimpering morosely. 

“She’s not yours.” Remus grumbled. That seemed to aggravate Moony somewhat, as well as piss himself off for talking aloud to...well...himself, sort of? 

He hated this. 

Remus sat half out the window drinking water and chain-smoking until his roommates returned from their final class. 

“What the fuck happened to you, Moons?” Sirius asked as he threw his book bag onto his bed before beginning to strip out of his uniform.

“Fucked if I know.” He grumbled, throwing the butt of his cigarette out the window. 

“You feelin’ alright?” James asked, brows furrowed as if Remus was a particularly difficult arithmancy problem.

“I think it’s quite clear that I’m not.” He spat as he pulled out another cigarette and lit it with the snap of his fingers.

“Blimey, Moony. Wasn’t the full moon last week?” Sirius asked incredulously.

It was too much, all of it: the nickname, the moon talk, their voices. The hearth in the room surged and then extinguished again; Remus was officially diminished to accidental magic like he was some kind of unruly toddler. 

“Shit, Remus. Relax, okay? We’re sorry.” James placated, watching his mate cautiously as Remus took some steadying breaths.

“What’s gotten into you mate?” Sirius asked quietly after Remus appeared to calm himself.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t feel like...myself.” He settled for, trying to drown out Moony’s pathetically forlorn howling in the back of his mind. 

“Alright.” James said. “That’s alright.” 

Remus wanted to vomit. Is that not what you had just said to him a few hours ago?

 “Do you need to go to see Pomfrey?” Peter asked.

“No.” Maybe.

“Alright, well we’ll bring you something up for dinner.” He offered with a smile. Remus felt like he should return the smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to try. 

Remus did eventually go to see Madame Pomfrey, though he kept the full extent of his current predicament to himself. He trudged through the halls, hating the fact that Moony seemed to pick up on your scent, signifying you had been down this hall yourself at some point during the day. 

Must go. Must go. Must go. Moony begged.

Go to Madame Pomfrey and then to bed. Remus mentally berated the wolf - the wolf growled in discontent. Remus was becoming increasingly worried about what he’d be like near the full when Moony was closer to the forefront of Remus’ control. 

Remus claimed nerves and a migraine as the cause of his request for sleeping draught for the night. The matron narrowed her eyes at Remus, clearly aware the boy wasn’t being entirely honest, but acquiesced to his request nonetheless. 

Remus supposed he probably should have requested a dreamless sleep potion instead.

His dreams were littered with images of you. Some were lovely – you and him walking hand-in-hand through bookstores and flower shops, sharing milkshakes and ice cream, snuggling up near the fire, as well as some...steamier dreams. But they were always chased away by horrible ones – you being chased by The Wolf, you finding out about him and running away terrified, you being bitten, you being killed. And those were always followed by his friends becoming disgusted with him, abandoning him, him ending up in Azkaban.

They made him sick.

Literally made him sick; he woke up with a start and bodied James on his way to the bathroom to eject last night’s supper out of his system. 

“Moons, what’s going on mate?” James asked quietly, clearly having been getting ready for a run before he was bulldozed by his mate, as Remus moved to the sink and readied his toothbrush.

“Please don’t call me that.” Remus moaned.

James seemed to consider him for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Is Moo- is the wolf giving you problems?” He corrected at the glare he was shot by Remus.

Remus sighed and nodded his head.

“Can’t be moon sickness? You’ve got three weeks.”

Remus finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth out before turning to look at James.

“I don’t know. I think...” but he didn’t know how to finish his sentence. How did he explain that Moony has apparently become obsessed with and hyper-fixated on one of James’ best friends and was actively campaigning to have Remus thrown into the psych ward at St. Mungo’s? “When you guys were researching on how to become animagi, you were first doing research on werewolves, right?” 

James responded by nodding his head in the positive.

“What’d you find? On werewolves, I mean.” Remus asked.

James grimaced. “Next to nothing, really; we found books and books full of anti-werewolf propaganda before we found anything even remotely helpful.”

“What book was it? The helpful one.”

“There was one line in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that said werewolves solely target human prey and are less interested in other animals as opposed to ‘true’ wolves.” James said.

Remus sighed and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“What’s going on?” James tried again. 

Remus just shook his head at this friend. “I don’t know yet, I’ll see what I find.”

“You don’t have to do this alone; you know? You’ve got us here.” James said as he followed Remus out of the bathroom.

“I know Prongs. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Remus said with a tired smile. He was lucky, really, he knew that. He had wonderful friends – he’d do anything to keep them.

Which just meant keeping Moony away from you. 

Unfortunately for Remus, James had been right; the only useful information he could find in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that a) he didn’t already know or b) wasn't prejudiced or incorrect was the line James had referenced. 

“The main difference is in the way they behave; a werewolf is very aggressive in comparison to a true-wolf; they prefer and target human prey, seemingly uninterested in other animals. Though some rumours claim that werewolves will create bonds with animals and other wolves: ‘were’ or ‘true’.”

Remus was ready to give up when he noticed a footnote at the bottom of the page: 

(22) From an unknown author’s first-hand account of lycanthropy in Hairy Snout, Human Heart: 1737. 

He looked through the works cited section of the text and found the book, which appeared to be an autobiography of an unnamed wizard afflicted with lycanthropy from the 18th century. Remus knew the chances of him finding that book in the Hogwarts library were slim to none. Now I’ll have to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend to try Tomes & Scrolls. 

Remus (unwillingly) learned a lot about you as he (impatiently) awaited for the next Hogsmeade weekend. 

You had a single dimple on your left cheek that only ever appeared when you smiled brightly. Granted, since you were generally soft around all of your edges, it didn’t appear too often. But it was almost guaranteed to make at least one appearance during every one of your interactions with James.

He hated the both of you. 

You hummed. A lot. Sometimes to the tunes of songs Remus could recognize, sometimes to tunes he was sure you’ve made up. It was always quiet humming, and only ever when you were focused intently on a task. It sounded lovely and was almost always accompanied by your tongue poking out slightly between your lips. 

He hated it. 

You always had some piece of nature on your person. Either grass from having been sat on the grounds, dirt on your hands from your time in the greenhouses, a flower tucked into a pocket or – God forbid – your hair. It was sort of adorable.

He hated that even more.

You made a soft tingling or jingling sound as you walked and moved on account of the many beaded bracelets decorating your wrists. It wasn’t just the sound of the jewelry – because Sirius was similar with his many pieces of silver jewelry decorating his person – but the sound was distinctly yours. And Remus Moony seemed to be able to pick it up from yards away. 

It was awful.

You also smelled heavenly. You were lavender blowing in the sea breeze, eucalyptus in a steamy shower, and the fresh grass you seemed to drag in every time you stepped outside. There was also something about you that smelled so distinctly you that drove him mad. He could pick up your scent anywhere.

And that was the worst part.

You were everywhere.

He’d been actively avoiding you since that fateful day in potions, and he still couldn’t escape you. Even if he couldn’t see you, he could hear you and your damned jingles or gentle giggles at something James said to you. And even if you weren’t there, he could still smell that you had been, and then he’d be stuck with Moony’s incessant whining for the rest of the day that they’d ‘just missed you’.

Remus hated it. He hated you for existing. He hated James for befriending you. But he mostly hated himself.

He hated that he got so angry about this; he hated that part of him blamed you for the horrible crime of having been born and that another part of him blamed James for the equally horrible crime of being kind.

He was the problem - Remus and his damned affliction. He just didn’t understand what Moony’s issue was; Remus (and Moony) had met many people throughout his life – Moony even had his own pack, for god’s sake! – what was so special about you to bring about this nonsense?

You seemed either completely unaware or completely unafflicted by Remus’ sudden coldness to you. There were times he’d stopped speaking midsentence when you’d show up or he would out-and-out walk away. James had clearly been annoyed with him about it, but you were still never anything but kind towards him. He was simultaneously grateful to you for it and peeved you were giving him more reasons to like you. 

James - still being slightly miffed with his mate for his abruptness towards you – was more than happy to leave him to search Tomes & Scrolls whilst he and Sirius and Peter went to The Three Broomsticks without him. Sirius shot him a confused look while Peter smiled at him sympathetically as they hobbled off after James.

They didn’t have the book he was looking for, but they were able to order it via owl and advised him they’d have it delivered straight to Hogwarts for him. 

Reluctantly resigning to his fate that he’d have to wait even longer to find answers, he exited the shop when he slammed into something with a solid oof.

He, being the lanky, larger-than-he-looks werewolf that he was, was able to shake off the collision with little-to-no effort.

You, on the other hand.

You.

Moony started howling in horror when Remus saw you leaning up onto your elbows from the cold cobblestoned road that Remus himself just knocked you into. 

“Oh, shit Y/N, are you alright?” He breathed as he hastily reached out his hand to help you up.

Big mistake.

Moony stopped howling and started nearly singing with joy when your skin met his. Prepared for the burning/cold/pain/joy/fear he experienced last time you made contact with him; he was surprised when he only felt peace wash through his person.

Time seemed to slow as you used his support to stand back up again and offer him a breezy smile. 

“I’m terribly sorry about that, Remus. Are you alright?” You asked as if you had just bodied him into the ground.

“I – uh, yes. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” He asked as he shook his head in confusion.

“Oh, I’m alright. I’m no stranger to spending time on the ground – I’m really quite clumsy you know.” You explained solemnly. He breathed a small laugh at your self-degradation. 

“Well, it likely doesn’t help to have a big oaf act as a brick wall when you’re only trying to shop.”

You smiled so sweetly that Remus, the damn sod, couldn’t help but return it. Lo-and-behold, your dimple made an appearance. Moony (and Remus, reluctantly) relished in the fact that he was the one to elicit that wide a smile from you. 

“That’s alright Remus. If you hadn’t, I might not have had a chance to apologize to you.”

Remus’ heart went to exit through his feet.

“Apologize? To me?” he asked. 

You nodded. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

It was weird that Remus could feel his heart crack painfully since it had already exited his body – but it stung anyway.

“You – you’re not... you haven’t done anything, Dove.” He said as he wiped a hand down his face, the pet-name slipping from his lips without his consent. “It’s me. I promise. I’m a freak.”

You offered him a simple smile, though your eyes seemed to ooze sympathy. “I’ve been told I’m quite odd myself.”

Remus chuckled. “Who told you that? Tell them I want to talk.”

You seemed slightly confused but laughed at his response nonetheless. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to figure out how to end this interaction while also mourning the coming loss of it. “Sorry for knocking you over, Y/N.” He offered quietly as he moved to walk away.

“Thank you for helping me up, Remus.” You responded with a smile as you entered Tomes & Scrolls. 

Moony whined at his loss of your company.

Remus whined at Moony’s input.  

True to the clerk’s word, a package arrived for Remus that week over breakfast in the Great Hall.

“What? Don’t you have enough books already, Moons?” Sirius asked with a smirk as he shovelled another spoon of cereal into his mouth. Remus responded with a (loving) two-fingered salute.

Remus had somewhat relaxed since your last encounter – there was no sense in punishing himself or you for Moony’s erratic behaviour, and he was sure he’d been driving his friends barmy with his mood swings. There was nothing for him to do except wait for more answers. And said answers were just delivered to him via owl.

“What are you reading now?” Peter asked as he tried to peer at Remus’ new book.

“It’s not a novel, Wormy. This is research.” He corrected.

“Gonna find out why you’re such a wanker?” Sirius snarked as he dodged a piece of bacon Remus threw at him.

“Okay, well, don’t waste food.” Peter chided quietly, looking disturbingly close to picking up said bacon from the ground. 

“Hanging out with the lot of you seems to have finally done me in, Pads.” Remus snarked back as he vanished the piece of bacon vexing Peter. 

James nodded solemnly. “Fair enough, honestly.” 

Remus quickly tucked his new book into his bag before moving to stand.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked as he looked at Remus with ill-hidden concern.

“To the library. Gonna do some research.” He answered plainly as he patted his book bag.

“Rem,” James called out to him, causing him to pause his retreat and turn to him. “you don’t have to do this alone, right?” he continued more quietly. 

Remus offered him a grateful smile. “I know Prongs, I’ll get back to you with my findings.”

Remus did noy know how he was going to report his findings back to his friends. This can’t have been it, can it? This isn’t what’s plaguing Remus? This can’t be real... There must be more...missing pages...

“...another version of lunar magic I’ve discovered in my travels - though extremely uncommon - is what some have called a ‘mating spark’. Along with the powerful lunar magic that drives the full-moon transformations and the surge of power it provides magical beings (wizards, witches, wix), there appears to be ‘soulmate’ magic involved with lycanthropy. Long been reduced to myth and lore within wizarding society, it appears the magic of soulmates may in fact be leftover knowledge from werewolf folktales.  “The initial ‘spark’ is reported to be painful and distressing. After the initial connection is made, the wolf will become fixated on their mate. The lycanthrope may experience longing, feelings of discomfort when apart and heightened senses surrounding their mate. It has been told to me that feelings of devotion towards the wolf’s mate does not go away, regardless of whether the lycanthrope accepts the bond or not.”

“Fuck.” Remus breathed as he dropped the book onto the table with a thud.

Mine. Moony huffed in response, as if wagging his tail singing ‘I told you so’.

This just won’t do. 

Continue to chapter three here.

Taglist: @hanniejji @y0urm0m12 @c0nsc10usworld @aphrcdites @starsval @thepunisherfrankcastle @anuncalledbridge @the-maniac-fly @unstablereader @rai-strangebr @sherry-needs-therapy, @klazina-couch-potato @cancelledkaley @fandom-crashlanding @ttulipwritezz @boo8008 

[megalony]

Who Do You Think I Am

This is my newest Eddie x Reader x Buck imagine, I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread@musicistheway@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@luula@missdreamofendless@bradleybeachbabe@woderfulkawaii@amberpanda99@daggersquadphantom@marvel-and-chicago-fan@angryknightstatesmantrash@minjix@lyjen@kmc1989@itsmytimetoodream@noonenuts@hiireadstuff@ashie-babie@classyunknownlover@jayyeahthatsme@sp1ritssz@dumb-fawkin-bitch@oliverstarksbae@gimatida@heart-35@supernaturalstilinski@stefansalvatoresgf@kyky9103@wutheringhearts2275@gay4hotmilfs@itshamleth@chaoticnosleepinfluencer@gs29@wh0reforsmutstuff@mel-vaz@natashamea18@chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena@targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19@marvelmenarebeautiful@gillybear17 @zoeybennett

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When one of their kids isn't well, Buck goes to collect her from nursery and the 118 come to make sure she's okay. And there are more than a few choice words for the nursery staff about how they've acted.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you going now?"

Glancing over her shoulder, (Y/n) scanned her eyes up and down Eddie's frame while her teeth sank down on her lower lip. He was wearing his work uniform, he didn't usually get dressed at home. He got changed into his gear once he got to the station, he must either be in a hurry or he'd brought his uniform home to wash it the other day.

Her arm tightened around the toddler sat on her hip who was cuddled up into her chest like some sort of baby monkey.

"Yeah or I'll be late. You still want me to pick you up tonight?" Eddie finished pouring the coffee in his travel mug and screwed it on tight before he looked over at (Y/n).

"Yeah- baby can you take a look at her before you leave, please?" Her arm bounced Ellie on her hip and her eyes travelled from the toddler back to Eddie.

She watched the way he glanced at the kitchen clock before he sucked in a deep breath and nodded. It would have to be quick, he was running out of time and he really didn't want to be late for the change from A to B shift.

He set his mug down near his keys and walked round the kitchen island, reaching his hands out for their youngest. Ellie was curled into (Y/n), her chest tucked into her mother's chest with her arms bound tight around the teddy in her arms. Her eyes were barely open from how tired she looked and she didn't even smile when Eddie stood in front of her.

He gently lifted her from (Y/n)'s arms, causing the two year old to grumble as Eddie sat her down on the counter and crouched down to be level with her.

"What's wrong?" He directed his question at (Y/n) while he pressed his hand against Ellie's temple, noticing she was a little warm but nothing to indicate a temperature or a fever.

"She's coughing a lot and she, I don't know, she doesn't seem herself." (Y/n) didn't want to worry.

They had done enough worrying over Ellie from the moment she was born three months premature. The first two and a half months of her life she had spent in the neonatal unit at the hospital and ever since they got her home, Ellie had been a happy but sick baby. She picked up any illness or infection going round. She held onto infections longer than usual and they wore her down.

She had been on a variety of antibiotics and she was only two years old.

(Y/n) didn't want to worry but she couldn't help it and she didn't want to send Ellie to nursery if she was coming down with something. If Ellie picked up a bad infection, they had to keep her home and get the doctor's advice on medicines. When one of the kids in Chris's class got the measles, they had to bring Chris home and isolate all the kids at home so none of them got it and passed it onto Ellie.

"Baby girl, let me look." Eddie pressed his finger to Ellie's lips until she opened her mouth. He then felt her throat and listened to her breathing.

(Y/n) could see the debate in his eyes. He didn't know whether sending her to nursery was such a good idea or not.

"Send her. If she was really bad she'd of been crying by now, and it's Buck's day off. If she feels worse he can bring her home."

"Okay."

Today wasn't such a bad day for childcare. Considering they had four kids in the house, the three of them did well to work around childcare. And it was Evan's day off today. If Ellie was coughing up a storm or had a fever, they wouldn't have to cancel shifts, Evan was here to care for her.

But they may as well send her since she wasn't complaining and if Ellie was very ill, she would of been crying and begging to stay home. It was worth getting her into the routine of nursery since she had only just started going two months ago and she was there three days a week.

If she felt worse, Evan could go get her, no problems.

"Alright, I love you both and I'll see you tonight." Eddie pressed a sloppy kiss to Ellie's cheek and lifted her up, gently settling her back down in (Y/n)'s arms.

He pressed his hand to (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head up to meet his so he could steal a kiss from her lips. He bit down on her lip before he pulled back and he murmured a soft "Thank you," when (Y/n) handed him a slice of toast. She knew he hadn't eaten yet and wasn't likely to if he was going to walk right into a busy shift.

He headed out the kitchen, grabbing his flask on the way, and made a beeline for the hall that looked as packed and cramped as a school hallway.

His eyes trailed over his troop, smiling down at them as they were all getting ready. Chris was sat near the front door, tying up his shoes with his bag perched next to him. Lola was leaning back against the wall with one foot up on Evan's thigh so he could tie her shoelace for her since she couldn't do it herself yet.

And Maria was stood to one side with her backpack on and her hair in two pigtails so she could twist her head from side to side and have her hair bash against her cheeks. It was her way of stimming.

"Who's driving us?" Maria looked between both dads with a smile. She could tell that since Eddie was wearing his uniform, he was going to work whereas Evan was dressed casual. He was wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt, and when she looked and saw her mum walking through, she could tell her mum was also going to work.

"I'm driving, and we're dropping mummy off at work today too." Evan patted Lola's leg as a sign that he was finished so she could stand on both feet again.

He had been at work until eleven o'clock last night but his silver lining was he had the next two days off. So he had the house to himself until he went to get Ellie from nursery, then he would pick up the rest of the kids and have the evening with them until Eddie and (Y/n) came home.

"Alright troop, I gotta go." Eddie grabbed his keys before he turned to the closest child, who happened to be Maria. He kissed her cheek, then moved to Lola, then finally Chris, giving them each a kiss and whispering a quiet 'love you' to them all.

He finally turned to face Evan who had his own keys swirling around on his thumb and his hand in his back pocket somewhat casually. He brushed his thumb across the side of Evan's neck and reeled him in for a kiss before he weaved around Chris to get to the door.

"Everyone be good for pops."

Eddie left the door open behind him for the rest of them to head out and get in 'the bus' as the kids always referred to it. Since they had a family of seven, they had what was effectively a mini-bus, something (Y/n) hated to drive but what was child's play for Evan and Eddie. Considering they could manage driving the trucks at work.

Both Chris and Lola followed after Evan and when he opened the back door, they climbed up and went right to the far back. There were two rows of three-seats in the back, and then two up in the front. Plus two seats in the boot that could fold up or pull out so they could effectively fit ten people in the car.

They strapped themselves in while Evan picked Maria up and clipped her in, and (Y/n) moved round to the other car seat to get Ellie strapped in. (Y/n) pursed her lips and sighed when Ellie didn't say anything.

The toddler wasn't always loud, but she usually babbled quite a lot and today she had barely spoken a word. She just closed her eyes and coughed quietly into her teddy.

"All good?" Evan looked over at (Y/n) when the pair of them climbed in the front.

"I don't think Ellie's very well… can you be on standby, if she seems unwell at nursery?"

Evan took a glance in the rear-view mirror as he began to drive. Ellie didn't look unwell, but she didn't look herself either. He turned the radio up to see if the music might liven her up. All the kids loved to sing, whether it was early in the morning or late into the night. The only time they didn't sing was when they were sick.

"Yeah, course I will."

(Y/n) nodded and managed a smile when Evan reached across and curved his hand around her thigh. When she was at work, she couldn't always answer her phone and both the school and nursery always seemed to ring (Y/n) first before they rang the boys. They even rang her regarding Chris because he thought of her as his mum and Eddie had added her and Evan to Chris's school record.

But she knew Evan would tell the nursery to ring him today, he was the only one with a day off who would be able to answer his phone straight away.

When he pulled up on the curb, (Y/n) leaned across and stole a few kisses from his lips before she looked in the back. "Alright, have a good day, I love you all." She blew a few kisses towards them before she hopped out, her work was first on the journey. Then the school, then the nursery on the way back because the older kids had to be at school before Ellie technically needed to turn up to nursery.

It didn't take long for Evan to arrive at the school and he got as close as he could to the gates.

He opened the back door and unclipped Maria first since she was the closest to him. He picked her up and set her down on her feet, helping her hook her arms through her bag straps while Lola hopped out, followed by Chris who bashed his crutches into the back of Evan's leg as he got out.

"It'll be me picking you all up today. Have fun and be good please."

"Bye papa."

"Bye baby, love you." Evan kissed the top of Lola's head and did the same to Chris, following them a few feet up the path until they were at the gates. But he looked down to his left when Maria pulled on his hand and started to sway back and forth on her heels.

"You love me too, papa?"

"You know I love you, sweetheart. Go on, good girl." He kissed her cheek and gave her a little nudge, waving and watching until they all got safely to the doors before he headed back to the car.

He opened the other back door and poked his head round to check on Ellie. He had been busy getting the girls up and sorted this morning while (Y/n) saw to Ellie, so he didn't know if she had been complaining she felt ill or if (Y/n) just noticed something was off.

"How's my baby, hm?" He leaned in the back and kissed her forehead which was a little warm. And his heart swelled when he got a smile out of her.

It was habit that all three of them referred to Ellie as the baby, even though she was now two years old. She was their youngest, and since she had been born premature, they were used to friends and family constantly asking 'how's the baby?' As everyone had been worried she wouldn't make it. And with all the infections and rough illnesses she picked up, she worried them even more.

"We go bed, papa?" She snuggled her face down into her teddy and smiled brightly when Evan started peppering her face with kisses.

"Hm, maybe later. You're going to nursery this morning, but I'll pick you up and you can spend the afternoon with me, how's that sound?"

He could see it in her eyes that she didn't want to go, but she didn't have the energy or the will to argue either. Ellie had grown up thus far being ill and constantly being cared and doted on by one of her three parents. Going to nursery was a change she wasn't too keen on. She didn't like being parted from any parent, but they were slowly getting her used to it.

It was hard on all three of them too because they were constantly worrying about Ellie and wondering if she was alright.

With a lasting kiss to her cheek, Evan closed the door and got back in the driver's seat. He turned the radio up a little more, but he felt his heart quicken when Ellie didn't sing or babble or even laugh. She only coughed and gave the occasional, cute sneeze.

Evan had a feeling she wouldn't last the whole day, something in his gut just told thim that he would be picking her up early.

Nursery didn't last as long as the school hours. The plan was usually for Evan to pick Ellie up first, take her for a drive or a walk somewhere, just the two of them. Then he would go get the other kids when they finished at half three.

But Evan didn't like being home alone, especially with both (Y/n) and Eddie at work today. So he would be relieved to pick Ellie up early, maybe after lunch so she at least had the morning at nursery. Then he could have the afternoon with his baby and then the rest of his kids.

He was going to end up seeing Maddie this morning anyway since she wasn't at work and Evan didn't like being alone.

"Come on then, baby. Off we go."

Evan gently unclipped her and swung her navy blue Fireman Sam bag on his shoulder as he let her curl up into his chest. She was tired and he was more than happy to cuddle her than have her walk inside.

He winced when she coughed into his neck, but she wasn't snuffly or finding it hard to breathe which was a relief. Her arms cocooned around his neck and she breathed softly against his neck as he walked into reception.

"Is it Ellie?" One of the women was halfway between the reception area and the play room with the other kids.

"It is," Evan gently eased her down to her feet and took her hand so he could walk over and put her bag on one of the hooks. The one thing he liked about this nursery was the fact that they didn't have too many kids here at a time. It wasn't too many kids to overwhelm or make Ellie nervous and that also meant there was less chance of her getting ill.

He let Ellie take the lead and drag him into the room before he crouched down in front of her and pulled her close.

"Be a good girl, I'll be back soon, okay?" He took a deep breath when Ellie flopped into his chest. She tucked her face into his shoulder and clung to his neck, leaning all her weight onto him so her legs bent and went floppy. "Go on, baby." He encouraged, kissing her temple before he tried to unhook her arms so she would go play.

She didn't seem too sure or very keen when one of the assistants came over and took her hand, but Ellie let herself be guided away from Evan.

Once she was out of sight and earshot, Evan moved his hands to his thighs and pushed up to his feet again. His sights set on the woman who led them inside and he plastered on a smile as he walked over to her, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked.

"Hi, uh, Ellie's not feeling well. Her mum and her other dad are at work, so if she needs to come home, you'll just have to ring me today and I'll come back and get her." He knew if Ellie heard him say any of that, she would start crying and ask Evan to take her home if she knew he was willing to come back for her at any point.

And he didn't want them trying to ring (Y/n) or Eddie and panicking when they couldn't get hold of either of them. There was no point calling them when Evan was off and was the easiest to access his phone. And he was already panicking that Ellie was going to get upset and want to come home.

The only reason Evan had brought her in was because he knew he couldn't keep her home whenever he suspected she wasn't one hundred percent. They could play things safe with Ellie more than the other kids, but they couldn't always keep her home and try to smother her to protect her. They had done enough worrying about her already to last them a decade.

"Okay, I'm sure she'll be fine but I'll make a note."

"Thank you."

***

A groan tumbled past Eddie's lips and he hung his head down when his spine clicked into place. He felt like someone had run him over with the truck. He was glad Evan wasn't on shift with him right now to see the discomfort he felt or Evan would fuss like a mother hen.

He shrugged off his shirt and grabbed a fresh one from his locker and the towel which he slung over his shoulder. A hot shower would do him some good and make him feel a bit more lively so he could get through the rest of his shift in one piece.

His head snapped up and crashed into the locker door, causing him to yelp when his phone rang.

That was lucky. He usually turned his phone on silent and kept it in his locker, he must have forgotten this morning.

With one hand cupping his temple which was now throbbing, his other hand rummaged around in his bag to find his phone before it stopped ringing. His eyes narrowed into a frown that set deep into his features when he looked over the caller ID.

Why was Ellie's nursery ringing him? Why did he already have a missed call off them from two minutes ago? They shouldn't be ringing Eddie when he was at work and Evan was the parent who was dropping off and picking Ellie up today. Why weren't they calling him?

"Hello?"

"Mr Diaz?"

"Yes… is Ellie okay?" He could feel his guts twisting themselves into knots while he sat down on the bench in front of the lockers. He arched his chest forwards to curve his spine and try to straighten out the tension he felt while he waited to know what was going on.

"Ellie was coughing this morning, but now she's started wheezing and she says her chest hurts. She isn't breathing very well, we think it'd be best if you could come and pick her up."

She wasn't having chest pains this morning, Ellie barely even coughed or croaked when Eddie looked at her this morning. To go from looking groggy and tired to wheezing was a little drastic and extremely worrying. But Eddie couldn't go and pick her up. He was at work. They should be ringing Evan and telling him this.

"Has she been sick? How bad is her breathing?" There were a million things coming to Eddie's mind about what the problem could be and what was happening. One of which was Ellie had just coughed a bit too harshly and given herself a bit of chest pain from straining. He hoped it was that. He prayed that was what was wrong.

"She's not been sick, but she is gasping and wheezing and she's getting herself upset."

"Okay… I'm sorry but why are you calling me, not my partner?" There was no question that Ellie was going home. Evan was going to have to go and pick her up.

"We couldn't get hold of her mother, so we called you."

"No, I get that but- you've rang me twice to get hold of me, why didn't you ring her other dad, Mr Buckley?" It felt so strange to hear Evan's last name passing through his lips. It had been a long time since Eddie had called him Mr Buckley and that was only when they were at some sort of formal place like the doctor's office or when they were registering the kids for school.

Surely if (Y/n) and Eddie hadn't answered the first time around, they should have tried Evan too. Was he alright? Why wasn't he answering? He had dropped her off this morning, hadn't he spoken to them when he took her in?

"We tried her mother first, then we tried you. It's protocol to call the parents-"

"He is her parent! Ellie has three parents and Evan is one of them. He dropped her off this morning for God's sake. I know you've got him on file."

Eddie could feel his blood beginning to boil.

They couldn't be serious. They couldn't be doing this to them. They had four kids together, Eddie had added (Y/n) and Evan as Chris's adoptive parents at his school. They had registered all the girls together at each nursery and school they went to and they rarely got this problem.

The one main issue they had was when they had Maria registered at a preschool and she had an accident. They kept insisting they could only speak to 'the real father' and didn't accept that both Eddie and Evan were equal fathers to Maria. They took her out of that school the same day and registered her somewhere else.

Sure, they got a few odd looks when they first applied and went to look round, but most of the staff had been accepting and a little curious. No one had been this rude to them in years.

"I- I'm sorry…?"

"It's fine, I'll ring him and he'll be there in five minutes." Eddie crudely hung up the phone, snaking a hand through his hair as he scrolled to find Evan's icon and call him instead. He couldn't be bothered to argue with the receptionist, not when he was at work and needed to go get changed ready for when the bell sounded.

Evan wasn't going to be happy about this, Eddie could already feel the anger and he hadn't even spoken to his partner yet.

"Hey babe, everything okay?" Evan didn't usually get phone calls from Eddie when he was at work. It wasn't that often that they did split shifts, they were usually on shift together, even if their schedules only lined up for half a shift and one left and the other stayed.

With (Y/n)'s job it was different, she could call them and have a conversation while she was on shift. But Eddie never rang while he was at work.

"Babe, can you go to nursery and pick Ellie up please?"

"What, why?"

Evan sat forward on the sofa, his back hunching over while he dragged his free hand along the back of his neck. What was Eddie talking about? Why had he been talking to the nursery? They were supposed to ring Evan if there were any problems and he had been a little worried that he hadn't heard anything from them by now.

"They called me, she's having breathing problems and they're worried, you need to go get her."

"No one rang me." The hurt was evident in Evan's voice and it made Eddie wince.

"I- I know babe, I know. I've already told them you're on your way, just let me know how she is when you get there please."

Evan muttered a quiet 'Will do' before he ended the call and grabbed his keys. He had a gut feeling he would be heading back to that nursery earlier than planned today, but Evan thought he would at least get the call himself. They had seen him drop her off, he had spoken to one of the girls who worked there. They had him as one of Ellie's contacts, he was one of her dads.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel and every now and then he moved his hand to scratch his jaw and drag his nails down his neck. He could feel the anger radiating through him and it was bustling out of him in waves.

What was wrong with her this time? Was he going to have to make another trip down to the emergency room?

Evan hated taking any of the kids to the emergency room on his own; he would have to call (Y/n) at work and ask her to meet him there. He would ring Eddie back and check whether the hospital was busy today or not. An ambulance might be quicker than sitting in the waiting room.

He dragged his hand across his face to liven himself up and see if it would somehow wipe away the angered, hardened expression he found staring back at him in the rear view mirror.

By the time he climbed out the jeep, he was shaking and his hands were balled into fists which he shoved in his jacket pockets.

He stormed into the reception he had been in less than six hours ago and drummed his hand against the counter as he waited for someone to talk to him.

"I'm here for Ellie, what's happened?"

"Someone to collect little Ellie."

Evan's eyes darted to the double doors ahead of him when he realised there was a lady leaning out, obviously waiting for someone. She nodded and beckoned Evan over. It was the girl he spoke to this morning. She held the door open for him for him and he hurried after her and followed her through the main room.

"She's right this way."

He could feel a wave of relief wash through him at finally seeing a familiar face. He would finally get some answers out of her and find out why no one called him and be told exactly what was wrong with his daughter.

"We tried contacting her parents-"

"Who do you think I am?"

The words flooded past Evan's lips before he could stop himself and he found his hands curling back into fists to try and calm himself down. His nails punctured into the palm of his hands and his head tilted to the side when the woman turned around to face him.

"I- I'm sorry?" She paused, one hand on the door that led into the small kitchen at the back. Clearly they wanted Ellie out the way of the other kids to try and calm her down.

"I've dropped my daughter off here before work a hundred times, I brought her in this morning and spoke to you. I told you if there were any problems, call me. But no one did, I had to find out second-hand that something was wrong. Who do you think I am, the babysitter?"

Did this girl honestly think Evan was the babysitter or Ellie's uncle? Did she think Evan was just a friend of the family who helped out and brought Ellie here on his days off? She had seen Ellie cling to him and kiss him goodbye. When Ellie was in her brighter mood she would kiss him on the cheek and say goodbye papa.

Did all of that mean nothing or go in one ear and straight out the other with this girl? What did she think happened or was going on when three different people brought Ellie into nursery and Ellie seemed attached and referred to them all as her parents?

At the very least, Evan thought this lady would have gotten the wrong impression and thought he was her stepdad or her mum's new boyfriend if she was that confused. Clearly she didn't think he was anyone of importance.

"I- well, um,"

"Her name is Buckley-Diaz and I'm Mr Buckley, that doesn't give you a clue, at all?"

Evan waited with raised brows and hunched shoulders but when the girl just stared at him and gawped, Evan sighed. There was no point debating this any further. Clearly they didn't care to work out what was going on or come to grips with the fact that Ellie was lucky enough to have three loving parents and not just two.

"She has two dads, one of them is me. If you have a problem with that, I won't hesitate to switch childcare providers."

With that said, Evan moved past her and pushed open the kitchen door and briskly walked inside. His eyes landed on Ellie straight away. His youngest was sat on a little plastic chair near the window, leaning forward like she was about to fall asleep sitting up. But the way she was trembling and cuddling her teddy to her chest told Evan she really wasn't well.

As soon as Ellie lifted her head, Evan saw the tears streaking down her face and he suddenly realised she was wheezing.

"Papa!" The word was breathless and crackled like static and she unhooked one arm from around her teddy to reach out for Evan when he knelt down in front of her.

His hands found her waist and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek while he rested her elbows on his knees and balanced back and forth on his heels. His thumbs brushed across her sides and he managed a calming smile when she looped her arm around his neck and tucked her temple against his so she could press a sloppy, gasping kiss to his cheek.

"Hi baby. What's wrong, hm? Tell me what's the matter." Evan kissed her again before he gently sat her up straight so he could look at her properly.

He watched her unhook her arm from his neck so she could tap her chest while she dropped her teddy to rest on her thighs. "Chest hurts, papa. Sore." She patted her chest before she moved her hand near her throat and back down again. Everything hurt. Breathing was a struggle, she wanted to cry but it made her gasp and her throat felt raw and broken.

"Let me see, baby."

Evan cupped one hand on her neck to check her pulse and he moved his other hand to gently cup her chin. He pressed his thumb against her lower lip to get her to open her mouth so he could take a look. Her throat looked red raw and inflamed and he didn't like how hard it was for her to breathe. Her pulse was quite high too.

With pursed lips, Evan leaned back, trying to stay calm so Ellie wouldn't panic as he rummaged around in his back pocket for his phone. But when he went to stand up, Ellie stretched her arms out and made a loud, croaky scream that had Evan shuddering and cringing.

"I'm not leaving, baby. Come're, shh I'm right here." In an instant, Evan leaned down and scooped Ellie up into his left arm so he could cuddle her into his chest.

He moved to stand near the window, gently bouncing Ellie in his arms every few seconds while he made a phone call. He leaned back so she could curl up on his chest and he felt her fingers scrunching up in his shirt as if to make sure he wouldn't dare put her back down.

"Buck, how is she?" Eddie's panicked voice came through the receiver within two rings and Evan guessed he had kept his phone in his pocket rather than his locker for any news.

"I'd guess tonsillitis, I'm taking her down to the emergency room, again."

"Again- fuck, that's the third time this year. Buck, I can come down and get you in the ambulance, then you won't have to wait, the emergency room was packed this morning when we dropped a few patients off. We can come down, just stay there."

That would make the third time that Ellie had gotten tonsillitis, and the doctors wouldn't do anything about it unless she got it at least seven times in a year. All they would do was give her antibiotics and tell them to keep her home and keep her fluids up. If she got worse or got a temperature, they would be back to the doctor for an inhaler, more meds and a chest X-ray.

Eddie couldn't see why they wouldn't just remove her tonsils and he done with it. This wasn't fair on her, always getting ill and forever getting chest infections, but there was nothing they could do to persuade the doctors otherwise.

"You sure?" Evan knew what that meant. He knew that meant the team would come down to this if Eddie made it a call out.

More to the point, the team would find out that Eddie and Evan were in a relationship together, and that they had kids. That they were in a poly relationship with someone else.

The team were open minded and always easy going and understanding, but the boys thought it better to keep their lives private. They didn't know what kind of looks they were going to get. It was bad enough that Evan's parents had reacted horribly to the news and used to ask Evan to find out if the girls were his or Eddie's.

And with Eddie's family being devout Catholics, they hadn't been impressed he'd entered a relationship with two other people at the same time. The team were loving and caring and understanding, but the boys didn't want any strange looks or frowns from the people they thought of as their family.

"We're coming down to you right now, babe. Call (Y/n), get her to meet us at the hospital. I'll see you both soon."

Evan found himself smiling and he leaned his cheek against Ellie's head and continued to sway her side to side. When he scrolled through his phone for (Y/n)'s contact, he stopped and looked down at Ellie as her hand scrunched up in his shirt and gave a small tug for his attention.

"We go home?"

"No, baby. Daddy's coming down to see us, you can see him in his uniform and ride in daddy's ambulance."

***

"Where are we going?"

Eddie ran his hands up and down his thighs and tilted his head back into the headrest when the truck took a right turn and had them all leaning to one side. He glanced across at Ravi who was switching between looking out the window and glancing over at Eddie and Chimney.

"My daughter's not well, we're gonna go take her to the emergency room." He moved his hands to grip his knees and he scratched his nails through his overalls.

He hadn't expected Bobby to say no when he approached and asked if they could go on a personal call. The moment he explained his daughter wasn't well and needed a trip to the emergency room, Bobby understood. He understood Eddie didn't want his partner or child to be waiting in the queue that had been out the door.

Not when Ellie could barely breathe and she was a high priority. Whereas if the team assessed her and took her, they could take her through the paramedics entrance at the hospital and she would see a doctor sooner than being in the waiting room for hours.

"How come?" Chimney had learned that they could ask Eddie questions about his private life if he opened the door and started the conversation. Otherwise, no one pried because he clearly liked to keep things private. They knew he had a partner and kids, but that was it. No no one had met any of them.

It was the same with Evan, no one asked him about his private life because he wouldn't offer anything up.

"She was a preemie, born three months early." Eddie tilted his head to the left and looked out the window as his hands left his knees and rung together between his thighs. "Picks up any infection going and nursery said she's not breathing well."

He couldn't have been more relieved when the truck pulled up outside the nursery.

Eddie had been expecting him and Hen to arrive in the ambulance while the rest of the team waited back at the station. But Bobby said they would all go and treat this like any other call out, and if they got another call on the way then everyone would be together and ready to divert after Eddie had been dropped at the hospital.

He climbed down and grabbed one of the medic bags from the side compartment before he led the way inside. Eddie grabbed the reception door and flung it open with haste and an air of confidence that almost rattled the walls.

His head turned to the left and his lips pursed when he watched the receptionist look him up and down with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It was Daphne, the lady who had called Eddie less than an hour ago about Ellie, the one Eddie rarely spoke to whenever he dropped Ellie off.

"Mr Diaz," The surprise was evident in her voice and she darted to look towards the main room and back again. Clearly Evan hadn't told them he had called for back up.

"Where's Ellie?" He didn't have the time or the patience to play nice. Eddie wanted his family and he wanted to get out of here.

"In the kitchen."

As soon as Daphne pressed the button to unlock the door, Eddie stormed through with Bobby and Hen hot on his heels.

He didn't bother to smile at the carers or the toddlers who stopped to see who was storming through. Eddie didn't feel like smiling. He felt like screaming. not only had they pissed him off by disrespecting his boyfriend, they clearly hadn't called for any help or thought to contact a doctor whereas Evan clearly thought Ellie was bad enough to need to go to the hospital.

The sight in the kitchen was enough to melt Eddie's hardened exterior and his lips managed a smile when he looked around.

Evan was sat at the small round table, slouched back in the chair with one hand on the back of Ellie's head and the other hand on her back to try and keep her stable on his chest. He had his lips smothering the top of Ellie's head, but the moment they both heard the door open, the toddler was looking off in that direction.

"Daddy!"

"Hey little girl." Eddie grinned softly and dropped his medic bag on the middle of the table.

For a second, he forgot that the rest of the team were following behind him. He didn't think before he acted, not that it really mattered anymore, and he curved his hand around to cup the back of Evan's neck. His lips pressed down on Evan's forehead and his thumb glided over the back of his neck until he was shivering from the contact.

Eddie reached out with his free hand and grabbed the wooden chair behind him and dragged it over so he was sat in front of Evan with their knees bumping together.

"Alright, let me take a look at you, little one." He waited for Evan to spin Ellie around to face him before he reached out to cup her chin. He felt that her throat seemed a tiny bit swollen, unlike this morning, and he could already see the inside of her mouth was inflamed.

Ellie let him check her temperature and she stayed limp and mobile while Evan leaned her forward over his arm so Eddie could use the stethoscope to listen to her lungs and how croaky her breathing was.

"Buck?" Bobby stood in the corner of the room and moved his hands to his hips as he raised a brow. Eddie never mentioned anything about Evan being his partner. He could have sworn Eddie had mentioned the name (Y/n) more than once. Maybe he had gotten it wrong.

"Are you-"

"This is our daughter Ellie." Eddie didn't want to wait around and have them play the guessing game or stand and stare, trying to study and figure out what they were to each other.

He whipped the stethoscope from his ears and chucked them back in the bag before he rummaged around for a blood pressure cuff. With Evan here to hold her, Eddie might be able to get a reading. Ellie hated her blood pressure being taken and neither of them could blame her, it wasn't a nice feeling.

But Eddie paused and looked back at Ellie when her hand batted against his shoulder. She waited for him to look at her before she started to pat her chest and whimper. It was hurting again. And they all watched with sympathy in their eyes when Ellie started to croak and cough which turned into gasping cries from the pain it caused.

"Hurts,"

"I know, I know little one. Alright, let's get her in the ambulance."

When Eddie stood up and hooked the bag back over his shoulder, Evan turned Ellie around so she could cuddle back up into his shoulder with her face burrowed into the crook of his neck. But his eyes went straight back to Eddie and he watched his partner turn to face the care assistant who was still stood in the corner of the room.

"Don't expect us to bring our daughter back here again."

Evan pushed himself up onto numb legs and grabbed Eddie's hand, squeezing tightly as he led the way out after Hen and Chimney. He had seen the look of thunder on Eddie's face the moment he walked in here and he had heard the frustration in his voice over the phone.

If they weren't going to be understanding or even try to listen to them, they weren't bringing Ellie back here. They had to understand that she had three parents and they had to listen to each of them. They couldn't just make presumptions or ignore Evan like they had done today.

Eddie wouldn't stand for them being so rude to his boyfriend like that.

A tender smile flickered onto Evan's face when he felt Eddie's hand on his lower back and his partner follow close behind until Eddie's chest was almost bumping into his back with each step.

Bobby and Ravi headed back to the truck and took Eddie's bag with them while Chimney climbed in the driver's seat of the ambulance. And Hen opened the back doors, beckoning the boys to hop in before she followed after them.

Evan perched himself down on the gurney and sat Ellie on his lap with her back slouched into his chest. His hands splayed out on her chest and tummy and he smothered his lips into the top of her head while Hen and Eddie sat down in front of them.

"Is she your only child?" Hen scanned her eyes between the boys who both shared a look while Eddie bit down on his lip, leaving Evan to answer this one.

"You're the baby, aren't you?" He murmured into the top of Ellie's head. "We've got four. Chris, Lola, Maria, and then Ellie."

While Hen muttered a quiet "Damn." With wide eyes, Eddie looked through one of the drawers on his left and found a steroid inhaler. It was a very weak dosage that would do Ellie some good to try and get her throat and airways open so she could breathe easier.

"Let's try some of this, see? Big breaths, like daddy, and it will feel better." Eddie pressed the white pen-like inhaler to his lips and took a deep breath. He tried to smile and stop himself from coughing at the taste, but he knew if he or Evan didn't try it first, there was no way Ellie was going to believe them and have a go herself.

She squirmed back into Evan, whining and shaking her head until Evan kissed her cheek. "Be a good girl for us, hm? Then we can tell mummy how good you've been."

"Mummy?" Ellie tipped her head back into Evan's chest, coughing and croaking as she stared up at him.

"Yeah, mummy's gonna meet us at the doctors, you wanna make her proud, don't you?"

She scrunched up her nose and curled her lips, but when Eddie pressed the inhaler closer, she didn't pull away. Her eyes sparkled when Evan sucked in a deep breath and puffed out his chest to get her to imitate him while Hen grinned at the pair of them.

Ellie copied Evan and reached both her hands out to hold Eddie's wrists as she tried to breathe in the inhaler. But as soon as the powdered steroids got into her lungs, she gasped. Her short nails scratched the back of Eddie's hands and she wriggled back into Evan, screaming as much as she was able to with the little breath she had left.

"Baby please- Ellie no- okay, okay all gone, see? It's gone now." Eddie wrenched out of her rather tight grip and handed the inhaler to Hen so she could hide it.

He dropped his head down and sighed, shaking his hands to get some feeling back from where she gripped him and his thigh burned from how she had kicked him in her panic.

"You're a little fuss-pot, you know that?" Evan murmured quietly as he rubbed his chest that now felt bruised from where she bashed her head back into him. It had only been an inhaler, it wasn't as if it actually hurt to take it and it must have made her feel a little better, even if it didn't feel normal for her. She knew they weren't trying or going to hurt her.

"I wonder who she gets that from." Hen dead-panned as the three of them felt the ambulance pull to a stop.

"Not me. Come on, let's go find mummy." Leaning over, Eddie gently scooped Ellie up from Evan's lap and climbed out the back. He felt Evan's hands on his shoulders and both of them found (Y/n) straight away.

She was stood to the far side just shy of the ambulance entrance, leaning her shoulders and one foot up against the wall. With her arms folded over her chest and her bag hanging off one elbow.

When her eyes locked on them, her lips curved into a soft smile and she pushed off the wall to aim for her guys and their youngest baby.

Evan reached her first. He weaved beside Eddie to meet (Y/n) halfway and his hands found her hips while his lips attached to her forehead. Their phone call had been brief but (Y/n) had immediately agreed to meet them here at the hospital. Ellie would need all of them if she was going to be seen by a doctor because they could guarantee she would get distressed and have a meltdown or some kind of tantrum.

She gripped Evan's waist and leaned up to kiss his cheek before she reached out for Eddie. His arm curled around her waist and she pecked his lips while Ellie scrambled to get into her arms.

"Mummy,"

"I'm here, baby. Come on, what have you been doing, hm?"

When Evan turned his head to the side and noticed the smile playing on Hen's lips, he could feel his cheeks flushing pink and a blush crept up the side of his neck. "We'll introduce you all later."

"Hm, I'm counting on it."

[castiwls]

"sacrifice, that's what we do for the people we love"

being the middle child in the winchester family...

I’d imagine you being like two years younger than Dean and two years older than Sam. So like literally the middle child

Your memories of your mum are fuzzy but you can recall a few things

When Mary died you were only two so you didn’t really understand what was going on for a while.

When you all first left Lawernce you spent most of that first night in a motel room crying because you wanted your mom and your bed. (Dean had to comfort you cause John left his two toddlers and baby alone in a motel #dadoftheyear)

When you were like ten your dad told you about what he had been doing for the past eight years. You were terrified but he made you promise not to tell Sam. He also made sure you knew that it was your job to keep Sam safe. 

Basically, you stopped being a child at ten.

You and your brothers were really close.

You and Dean basically trauma-bonded over hunting and also having wayyyy too much responsibility at a young age. 

Out of you and Dean, you were more emotionally available so Sam tended to tell you more.

As he got older he would talk to you about getting out and stuff. While your dad and Dean were very much into hunting you and Sam were more of on the sidelines. 

Sam got his love of reading from you. He’d always tell you about the books he was reading and what he was doing in class.

You’re the mediator for the family. It was always you who broke up fights. You were also able to calm your father down.

Mentioning in a passing comment that you didn’t want to hunt when you were like 15 and John flipped.

“If you don’t want to help kill the thing that killed your mom then you can get out.”

So you did. You left at 15 for 6 months.

In reality, you went to stay with Bobby but you never told your dad that.

Dean begged you to stay and would call every day. So would Sam.

Around this time Sam also started to want to leave. 

“I wanna come stay with you.” You sighed leaning against the wall. The phone rested between your ear and shoulder. “You can't Sam. Dad would flip your too young.” He let out a frustrated noise but let the topic go. (for now)

Dean would also call often and beg you to come home.

“Look he didn’t mean it, alright. It was just a heat of the moment thing.”

You did eventually come back. (Bobby wasn’t happy but let you go)

Your brothers were overjoyed and you actually got an apology from your dad (shocker.)

Things were ok for a few years and then Sam got a bit older and started talking about school. He’d only talk to you about it though. It wasn’t that Dean hated the idea but he didn't understand.

One day when you were 18 and he was 16 Sam asked to talk in private. So you took him to a dinner near the motel and he told you about Stanford.

“One of my teachers thinks it's possible.” He pushed the pamphlet towards you. “I just need a signature from an adult and I know Dad won't sign it.” You quietly looked over the pamphlet for a moment. A sense of pride washed over you as well as relief. This was his way out. “Of course, I’ll sign it.”

You both kept it quiet for the next year and when his acceptance letter came in you both kept it to yourselves but you were so proud

#proud parent moment.

Though eventually, Dean found the letter. 

“Did you know about this?” He asked holding up the letter. You felt your blood run cold as you grabbed the letter from him. “Yes. I did know.” You admitted. “It was me who signed the papers.” Your brother's eyes widened a look of betrayal crossed his face. “Why would you do that?” His voice began to rise as he spoke. “Because Sam deserves a future Dean.”

You two didn’t speak for a while after that. Dean got over it though.

When it came time for Sam to leave that's when all hell broke loose.

You’d never heard your dad yell so loud. He and Sam went back and forth for hours until your younger brother just walked out. You and Dean both followed him. After calming him down you went with him to the bus and said goodbye.

Dean was kinda non-plussed (inside he hated it and was worried sick). You were worried but happy that he was getting out.

When you and Dean went back to the motel John was furious. He blamed you (of course)

“This is your fault. You're the one who put all those ideas in his head and look what happened.”

Dean jumped in front of you and told him to back off. 

“Sam’s his own person you can’t blame her for this!”

After this, you and Dean get closer. John starts taking more hunts alone meaning that you and Dean spend a lot of time just driving around.

You would probably class this as the first time in your life you felt truly happy. Hunting with Dean was easier and there were fewer arguments.

Sam would call u often to update you. When he told you that he’d met a girl you were so happy for him. (it really seemed he got out)

But then your dad went missing and Dean insisted on getting Sam to help.

You were glad to have both your brothers back but at the same time felt insanely guilty as you watched Sam fall back into hunting.

[foone]

When I was a kid I had a semi-school thing of enrichment classes (homeschooled, so no real classes), and me and a friend had an assignment where we had to make a timeline of our life. We were, like, 11, so there's wasn't much to it.

But my friend (let's call him Carl) did have one major event: he had been hospitalized with a bad Salmonella infection when he was a toddler.

So his timeline was "born", "Salmonella", and "now", pretty much. The problem was the graphic design: he wrote the born and now labels below the timeline, and the Salmonella label above it... near where he'd written his name, in the upper left corner!

Dude was in his 20s before I stopped calling him "Carl Salmonella" and giggling to myself

[sturniolosreads]

Dating Matt but Nick and Chris make you stay over at their house because when Matt’s at your place they don’t anyone to drive them places

UBER

Matt Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Today was Sunday, I had just gotten back from a long travel day and was driving to my boyfriend, Matts house. Matt was my lifesaver, we met when we were 14; he saw me sitting on the floor near the girls restroom when he had come out of class to go to the toilet.

I was sat crying, going into a panic attack because I couldn't do the work that my maths teacher gave me, he rushed up to me, held me and comforted me despite having no idea who was.

After he calmed me down, he helped me figure out the work and told me that he often experienced anxiety too. When lunch came around, he introduced me to his triplet brothers, Nick, and Chris. From that day on, all four of us were inseparable.

In junior year, we had both developed a crush on each other; he put flowers in my locker with a note asking me out on Valentine's day, and who was I to say no? So, we began to go on dates, and on the 3rd date he asked me if he could be my boyfriend.

Three years later, we were in a healthy and happy relationship. We had organised a movie night with me, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Nate so that Nick and Chris werent 3rd and 4th wheeling. I got out of my car after finally arriving to the triplets' house and grabbed my keys out of my pocket.

Matt had given me a key to their house when they moved to L.A a year ago so that i could let myself in, sometimes i would have trouble sleeping at night so i would drive over to the triplets house, Matt knew I did it to help me sleep at night so it never bothered him when he would wake up to me cuddled up at the side of him.

lunlocked the door and stepped into the house, Matt must have heard me pulling up because as soon as stepped foot in the doorway, he nearly knocked me over with a bone crushing hug.

" missed you baby, how was Boston?" he asked, his speech slightly muffled due to his head being nuzzled into my neck. I laughed, kissing his cheek

"it was good, I missed you too. How have things been while I was away?”

He groaned, pulling away from me *hell, imagine having to babysit two 20-year-old toddlers." Nick walked up from behind him *just because you have to have everything clean all the time Mr.

Perfect" he rolled his eyes pulling me in for a hug

"it's good to have you back y/n, this moron hasn't stopped whining since we dropped you off at the airport." | laughed again at the brothers' antics.

"you guys need to come next time, I bumped into Marylou at the store, she said that the next time I go to Boston I need to drag you by the hair to come with me." I told them, they smiled.

"Were planning to go next month, you'll be coming with us of course" Matt spoke. "Hurry up guys I wanna start the movie!" Chris whined from upstairs. I rolled my eyes playfully at his dramatics, walking up the stairs with Matt and Nick following my lead.

Chris got up and ran to me as I came up the stairs. He jumped up and wrapped his legs around me like a monkey (like he did to nick in the vlog ages ago) as I let out a strained groan. Matt laughed and pried Chris off me. I giggled a bit and hugged Chris normally, despite there only being a few months of an age difference between me and the triplets, Chris was like a little brother to me.

He could be the biggest nuisance, but that was what made him so loveable. Matt never had a problem with us being close because he knew that we never thought about each other that way, and he knew that me and Chris were strictly platonic. " missed you sis he said, a toothy grin on his face as he pulled away from the hug. « missed you too kid, what are we watching?" | asked him, and he suddenly got more excited "we bought the new ninja turtles movie"

TIME SKIP

We spent around 2 hours on the couch together, watching the movie and eating our weight in Wingstop. Nate left around half way through, saying that he didn't want to wake up his mom by coming home too late. Once the movie was over, I

#I'm gonna head home guys, I'm exhausted from travelling" I said to them. Matt stood up after me

*I'lI take you home, I'll probably just end up staying at yours anyway. Chris immediately protested.

“No matt, I have to go to a meeting tomorrow morning, and I need you to drive me" he whined.

"I'm not an uber Chris, either walk or order one." he whined again "y/n, please stay over. I hate taking Ubers, they are too expensive" nick then decided to join the conversation. "I also need to go to target tomorrow” he spoke in a tone that said ‘you better drive me.’

laughed at their desperateness "why don't you guys just hurry up and get your licence? But fine, I'll stay over if matt is okay with it" I turned to look at matt who was standing behind me, silently asking him if he was okay with me sleeping in his room for the night.

"of course, I'm sorry about them" he smiled apologetically at me "it's okay, your bed is comfier anyway" | smiled, running away into his room, and jumping on the bed.

I heard him speaking to Chris, asking him what time he needed to be at the meeting. a few minutes later, I smiled at him as he came through the door of his room, shutting it behind him. "I'm gonna go for a shower and then I'II come to bed" | told him.

He smiled and nodded as he opened his drawer to take out a pair of sweatpants to sleep in "okay, are you just gonna sleep in one of my shirts? I have your spare underwear in my drawer." | nodded at him "yeah, I'II be like 15 minutes, and I'II be done" he nodded.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I took a quick shower, before getting out and wrapping the towel around me and opening the door.

I walked over to the drawer that I kept all my spare things in for when I stayed here and grabbed a pair of underwear along with the t-shirt matt had left out for me. I slipped them on, before getting under the duvet and putting my phone on charge.

Matt smiled at me, pulling me in to him as he put his phone down. "Goodnight baby" he spoke, kissing my forehead "Goodnight love" I buried my face into his chest, falling asleep in minutes.

A/n: sorry this is so short, but first one shot done. I'm so scared to publish this 😭

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Pinch Me

After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream. 

or

This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.

I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that! 

Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me)

Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad. 

In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile. 

By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside,  a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood. 

After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away. 

The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new. 

It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well. 

You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.

And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you. 

His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.

You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink. 

“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested. 

“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”

Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas. 

The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter. 

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date. 

“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly. 

“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place. 

You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.

The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side. 

“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”

“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”

“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.

“Okay. Four cheese then.”

“You sure?” Your interest piqued. 

“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”

You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you. 

Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“ 

Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly. 

His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks. 

Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting. 

Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.

As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.  

Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly. 

On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground. 

Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress. 

With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck. 

“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep. 

“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.  

“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there. 

Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest. 

“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully. 

When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss. 

“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there. 

With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there. 

You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck. 

It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.

Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now. 

Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache. 

You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”

You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’. 

He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.” 

You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”

Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot. 

“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes. 

“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”

Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Baby…” 

Baby. 

You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?” 

You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them. 

He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name. 

Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull. 

Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode. 

You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice. 

Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?” 

“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck. 

Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady. 

You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap. 

Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”

That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder. 

His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you. 

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.” 

Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist. 

The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame. 

Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again. 

“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections. 

He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing. 

His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle. 

You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck. 

You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you

With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together. 

Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream. 

“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile. 

“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”

“Yeah, you are.” 

There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth. 

After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”

“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”

“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.

“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.

“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”

“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”

You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”

“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”

“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”

He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out. 

“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?” 

“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.” 

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods. 

“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity. 

“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.

“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”

“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans. 

“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.

“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...” 

“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”

“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart. 

The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again. 

“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle. 

You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”

His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”

“She is.” 

He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.” 

“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”

Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again. 

Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.

comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished

[yandere-paramour]

hi! i was reading your blog for quite a while, and wanted to say that i really enjoy reading things you write!! thank you so much, it gives me pretty much comfort during study days (hope that didn't sound weird)

anyway what are your thoughts on Darling who is in her 20s and still a uni student? (maybe some Atalanta headcanons... she is my fav)

No, I know EXACTLY what you mean, I'm clawing myself through grad school right now and I NEED my yandere accounts to keep me sane on those days when you have to lock in and study 6 hours. I'm really glad you like my writing, it makes me so happy that I am reaching people :)

Atalanta with a College Student

Of course, Ata takes you the second she finds you. She just can't help herself, she has to have her love near her

But after all your kicking and screaming and begging her not to interrupt your studies, she relents

The Montclairs highly prize education, and even though Atalanta wants you, she doesn't want to ruin your degree over it; she really doesn't want you to hate her

And you're so young, she doesn't want to ruin your university experience because of her own needs

So you and she decide on a compromise

You can stay at university and will continue to go to classes and be a good Darling, and in return she gets to be in your life

You will move into a safe apartment she picks for you with one of her trusted bodyguards, and they guard will accompany you (discretely) everywhere you go, for your own safety

Atalanta will come see you several times a week to get to know you and eventually you will graduate, she will become your girlfriend, and she will marry you

You, having no choice if you want to keep even a little freedom, agree

The apartment is gorgeous. No one will tell you the exact price but you can tell it is expensive. Everything is clean and modern, and you have a bedroom and an office to yourself. Atalanta says your areas for sleeping and working should be separate for your health

The guard is a really nice woman who basically watches over you, and it feels refreshing to go about your day unconcerned that anyone will harass or kidnap you

You never have to cook or clean, and anything you even mention wanting shows up at your apartment the next day

Atalanta even allows you to go out and have fun, provided you take the guard with you and you don't engage in any substances (which you weren't interested in anyway)

You have lots more time to study and sleep and engage in your hobbies, and you're eating better than you have since you were a toddler

The only thing you're unsure about is Atalanta

Four times a week you come home to find her sitting at your kitchen table, quietly working on documents while she waits for you

She always greets you with a smile and a hug, and you can't help but admit her hugs are warm and comforting

She asks about your day and eats with you, choosing to spend the evening doing whatever you want

She seems to be just happy to spend life in your presence, looking at you like you are the sun in the sky

She never overstays her welcome, she always knows when you're overwhelmed and you need her to leave.

She gently and chastely kisses your cheek and bids you goodbye, having a short word to your guard that you can't hear

You don't know how you feel about her

She's striking and thoughtful you certainly have some complicated feelings for her you try to work out underneath your blankets, but you're still a kid and you don't know if you're really ready for something like this

She's a beautiful, intelligent, queer CEO of a company that runs your city, and you're just... you. You don't know if you're really worthy of standing by her side.

In the car, Ata frowns at the sight on her phone. Her precious Darling is feeling... unloved? Undeserving? Inadequate? Ata won't stand for it.

A few texts to Noelle and Ata has arranged to take you out for dinner next week where she will present you with a promise ring, a symbol of her earnest devotion to you and her commitment to make you hers as soon as you graduate.

"Just you wait, Darling," Ata whispers to your visage on her phone as you blink your tears back, "Just a little longer. I'll make it all better soon."

[bloomtoddlerclasse]

Discover the world of early childhood education and fun learning experiences at Bloom Toddler Classes. We provide a nurturing environment for your little ones to thrive.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying my family shows favoritism towards my baby cousin?

(This is copied from my Reddit drafts because my partner told me tumblr would be better for this and I trust them)

Okay this is a long one so I’m just gonna throw out fake names for everyone and everyone is white middle class Americans

I, Op, 20M, I’m a trans man not accepted by my family. This is relevant

Renee, 20F, my twin sister

Bea, 16F, my younger sister

Lee, 35F, my aunt on my father’s side

Lucas, 2M, my cousin, son of Lee

Suzie, 5F, my cousin, daughter of Lee

My father, 44M, the patriarch of our whole family

My mother, 45F

Grandpa, 76M, paternal grandpa, previous patriarch

Grandma, 74F, paternal grandma

So I’m sending this in on Christmas Day of 2023. For some context, I still live at home, but it’s more of a roommate situation now that I’m an adult. Renee lives on her out-of-state college campus but visits for holidays, and Bea is still a high schooler. Lee, her children, and her husband who isn’t relevant to this (I love my uncle, we just literally never talk) live across the country. My father is losing the battle with cancer and can’t travel, so we had two separate christmases this year, one with my immediate family and one with Lee. Grandma and Grandpa went to Lee’s, which was awesome for me because that meant I got to avoid them this year!

As the character list above states, I’m (one of) the oldest of the five grandkids with my cousins being born a lot later than me and my sisters. My family is a traditional WASP family and staunchly conservative with Aunt Lee actively being a cop right now while my parents and Grandpa served in the military. Growing up undeniably queer was hilarious, I know. But the family dynamic wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, my family did a good job of trying to hide the fact that Renee was the favorite child lol, but that was more on the basis of her having the same traditional values that they do until Aunt Lee had Suzie, then she obviously became the favorite. Fine by me, she’s an adorable girl and I love spoiling her. Also, ACAB does apply for Aunt Lee for being complacent in this system, it’s not just the most relevant part of the story besides explaining how she fits into the family dynamic

But then Lee had Lucas a few years later and the focus in the family shifted to him. At first, it was baby fever making everyone dote over him (and I’m guilty of this too) but after a while, I realized that the fever hasn’t died down. If we had family reunions, everyone would flock to Lucas and I would be the one watching Suzie. For a toddler, she’s a great conversationalist, but it was still sad to see all her aunts and uncles and cousins showering her baby brother with attention and not her. And then the comments started. That my father would only refer to Lucas as “my nephew” even when talking directly to Lee (unhinged to witness in person). That Grandpa was so happy to finally have a grandson (felt great). The lady-killer comments and guessing what profession he’s gonna go into based on how chubby of a baby he is (the money’s on Linebacker, little dude is built like a truck). Stuff like that

None of these comments were ever made about Suzie when she was born, and I really don’t want to admit that it’s because Lucas is a boy, but thats the only answer I can think of when trying to understand the favoritism. Lucas is showered in gifts and love and while I know newborns need that, Suzie received nowhere near this much attention. Lee’s husband doesn’t go to family functions because he works full time, but I heard Suzie mumble at Thanksgiving last month that she wanted to go home to daddy. It broke my fucking heart, so I called him and she got to FaceTime with my uncle until my phone died

At this point, I’m not even upset that the family ignores my obvious trans-ness as I’m over a year on T (paid for by myself too) in favor of my boy cousin. I’m upset that Suzie is getting left out of the fawning while she’s still super young and she could grow up resenting Lucas because of it.

Anyways, so this morning we opened gifts as an immediate family and I got to FaceTime my significant other as they unboxed their gift from me and we were having a good time until my dad FaceTimes Grandpa. Grandpa answers and Dad immediately asks how his nephew is. Lucas is pushed in front of the phone and all I can hear is asking about how Lucas is, is Lucas talking yet, is Lucas reading yet. I manage to squeeze my head in and ask about Suzie and Lee’s voice off camera says that “oh she’s fine, just snobbish.” Snobbish? A five year old?

And here’s where I’m probably the Asshole. Honestly, I’m looking between ESH and JAH here, but would perfectly understandable if tumblr decides YTA. My response to Lee’s comment was: “well maybe she wouldn’t be if everyone didn’t pick Lucas as the family favorite.”

My dad smacked me upside the head, Renee and Bea got really pissed off, and the FaceTime went quiet until it was cut off and Grandpa called back to talk to Dad privately. Bea called me an asshole and while my Mom got onto her for her language, Mom agreed that I was.

My dad came back from the phone and did the silent point towards his bedroom, y’all with shitty parents know the one. Because I’m twenty fucking years old and pay RENT here, I shook my head, grabbed my keys, and went to go hang out with my significant partner and work friends. We had a great time and I’m currently in the car with my significant other while typing this. I’m gonna spend the night at their place and go back in the morning to see how bad the damage is. My significant other says I was justified in what I said, but two of my work friends (one who’s a Cishet guy who grew up in a similar household and another who’s a new dad with his own son) say that what I said was uncalled for and rude. They explained that I had no right to weaponize Lucas and Suzie like that and I understand that. I’m just tired of Suzie being neglected and, selfishly I know, I’m tired of how my identity is ignored as well

So, tumblr, AITA?

TL;DR, My two year old cousin is the “only” grandson in the family. The family ignores my male identity and my baby cousin’s five year old sister to fawn over the two year old. Am I The Asshole for pointing this out point blank in front of the whole family on Christmas morning?

What are these acronyms?

[squishytenya]

choose your own path <3

pairings - readers choice x gn!reader

warnings - forced proximity quirk, crying, quirk accidents, exact warnings on each character post (each character's chapter will be linked at the bottom of this post when they are written)

welcome! I've kind of always wanted to do one of these so here it is! it's kind of soulmate au inspired and each of the choices is based on a popular romance novel trope :) hope you enjoy

I have a few specific characters planned for each imagine but if there is any you would like to see - lmk and I'll write it <3

The dust flew up around your face, sitting thick in your throat and causing you to force out a cough. This was certainly not how this was supposed to go. A simple patrol, one of your first since becoming a pro, it was supposed to be nothing more than dealing with a few muggings. Instead, the shrill cries of a young girl had pierced through the night. You and your partner had shared matching looks and flown down the street as fast as you could towards the noise with your hearts racing.

As it turns out, it was not the girl you would be saving. The screaming changed as you grew closer - morphing from fear to frustration and a hint of anger. Well, as much anger as a tiny five year olds body could muster. She was running frantically around, tripping on the rubble that she had somehow pulled up from the ground with her tantrum. And she seemed to be… tapping people? Not slapping per say but placing her tiny hands on people anywhere she could reach. Every time she placed her small palm on another person's skin, her little shoulders dropped in what you realised was relief. Unfortunately, the people she had tapped in her frenzy seemed to absorb the pain. Within seconds, almost everyone in the crowd around her had been sent to their knees, groaning in agony.

You shared a look with your partner and nodded at them - stepping towards the volatile child. 

“Hey sweetie, it’s okay” you attempted to comfort her apprehensively. 

 “what’s your name?”

There was no indication, to your shock, that anyone else had tried to even converse with the toddler. The way she froze in her movements caused you to step back, until she turned her gaze on you and her brown eyes filled with tears. Her trembling body made your heart ache. Obviously, this was some kind of late quirk manifestation that had taken the poor girl by surprise. Yet, you still couldn’t understand why nobody seemed to want to get near her. 

That was, until you noticed a pale yellow glow emitting from her palms. The young girl seemed to be just as panicked at this as you felt and started to move, as if to shake the glow from her palms. Her futile attempts only caused her breathing to pick up its pace again and she stumbled.

“We can help you” you spoke soft and slow, gesturing to your partner, “you just gotta come here okay? Tell me what's got you so worked up”

The brunette girl sniffled, rubbing her face with her glowing palms. Pain curled in your chest at the sorry sight. Reaching forward, you moved your hand onto her shoulder and gripped it softly. It had been taught to you in training that younger civilians reacted well to physical contact, as it often reminded them of their parents. Not that you had paid much attention in that section of class, but you did remember some useful things. You would have to thank midnight for the tip once this is over. 

Wailing, she curled in on herself and her head rolled back. Tear-filled eyes bore into yours and she started stuttering out apologies, the soft yellow glow growing more intense. The light emitting from her hands seemed to heat up as it intensified and the air around it started wobbling like the sun on a hot day. Squinting, you moved towards her to attempt to stop her touching another person. It didn’t seem to cause too many issues but you needed to keep the public away from the girl’s grasp until you knew the full extent of her quirk. 

“I’m sorry” she screamed, in obvious pain now

“Sorry- I can’t stop it! It hurts! Want it to stop” 

Before you could stop her, she reached towards your arm with her glowing fingertips outstretched. Your partner let out a shocked sound and shot forward towards the two of you. 

It was no use, her tiny hand closed around the exposed skin of your wrist. 

And… nothing. 

Reaching behind you, you waved your frantic partner off. It wasn’t that bad, just a bit of heat. Certainly, the civilians around you were just reacting dramatically to the heat emanating from the little girl's hands. A slight tingle, sure, but nothing more than that. Honestly, you didn’t know what the other people in the area were making such a fuss about. It could probably be explained as a small energy quirk mixed with growing pains. It happened to the best of you. 

You smiled warmly at the young girl again, despite your heart pounding in your chest. Oddly enough, light and that warping heat still remained on the hand that hadn’t touched you. Hmm you thought, maybe the quirk separates in her body? The girl's squirming seemed to confirm your theory - not quite the agonising pain you had witnessed a few seconds earlier, but definitely not comfortable to her. 

Once again, your partner stood beside you and quirked an eyebrow. You shrugged in response. 

“I don’t know what the big deal is, it was a bit warm but that’s pretty much it” you explained. 

“No!” the young girl in your arms protested, “it doesn’t work like that-”

Your partner, shocked by her sudden outburst, moved closer to you. His action seemed to shock the girl huddled in your embrace and she reached towards his chest with her glowing hand. The entirety of her hand pushed against his chest, sending him reeling back at her surprising strength. Your eyebrows almost hit your hairline. That was certainly ammo to tease him with later on in your patrol, you thought to yourself. 

Blinking, you set her on the ground. The warmth emanating from your wrist sharpened, causing you to clench your fist and shake your arm. The attempt to lessen the feeling proved futile. Burning sensations travelled up your arm, engulfing the rest of your body in the curling flame. You grunted as the scorching heat flowed through you like a flow of lava in your veins. Gripping your chest now as the burning seemed to swirl around your heart, you glanced over to your patrol partner and observed he seemed to be fairing the same way you did. 

Desperately, you reached for your radio, dropping the now hysterical girl to the ground as gently as you could. Murmurs picked up in the crowd around you, obviously shocked at the immediate effect of the quirk. The metal of your radio was a cool relief against your feverish skin. 

You gasped when the receiver crackled to life. 

“Help requested” you almost sobbed, “two down in the market square… there’s been a quirk incident - we need help”

Bursts of the flame sensation flickered up to your head at this point. It felt like your whole torso had been set on fire. Sinking to your knees, you grasped your head in your hands and bit back a scream. Your chest heaved under the strain. Frantically, you gestured for the crowd to move away from you and your partner but made no attempt to move closer across to him.

“Ayami!” came a frantic voice from across the clearing. 

“Mommy!”

“Sweetie, what have you done?”

“It was an accident” the little girl was in tears now and you reached to comfort her in earnest. 

Not getting far, you clutched your hand to your chest as the flame feeling engulfed your eyes - spreading bright yellow into your vision. The young girl's cries were still ringing in your head as your eyes closed and you hit the cold ground. 

-

Your head was swimming. There was no way of telling how long you had been out but your body held the same exhaustion as it did when a fever had just broken. The light above you was industrial and way, way too bright for your very tired eyes. 

“They’re awake”

You grunted. 

“Wish I wasn’t”

A familiar snort rang out across the space you were in. 

“At least we can rule out a change in their charming personality.”

“Fuck off Katsuki” 

You raised your middle finger in the general direction of the comment, eliciting a snort once again. You supposed you had to get up and face the world at some point. If you were safely in hospital, it most likely meant that the young girl from the night before had been contained. 

“The girl,” you murmured, “she okay?”

The person next to you (mina, you assumed by the smell of her perfume) kissed their teeth - a less than comforting noise. You groaned again, this would probably require way more paperwork from you than you were prepared to do right now.

“Yeah, she’s fine - the old lady’s got something to tell you though.”

–

“You’re shitting me right?”

Recovery girl cast you a look over the rim of her glasses. Cringing, you began to apologise to the smaller woman but she cut you off. 

“I’m sorry to tell you, but you will have to remain close to him” she explained, “we don’t know when the quirks effect will wear off, none of the civilians are back to normal yet”

You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. This was just your luck really, exactly what you needed after a week of night shift patrols and shitty takeout dinner. The poor girl in the street had some kind of tethering quirk, none of the civilians hit had been able to separate themselves from each other for longer than five minutes without that burning sensation coming back full force. Each time she touched someone with one other hands, whoever she touched with the other was stuck with them until someone could figure this quirk out. 

They’d been essentially sorted into pairs by the girl’s quirk. Like the game snap! Your brain helpfully supplied. The maximum distance they could go without hurting each other was a mere 8 feet. 

8 feet was not enough space for you. 

You and your partner had only patrolled together twice and now you were stuck within a room's distance of him the whole time. Sure, it was better than whatever that feeling was - but you were less than happy about it. 

Knock knock. 

Speak of the devil and he appears. You knew he was due to come in because the warm, mildly painful, tingle had started up again on the same wrist. Brilliant, this is my life now. 

You looked up and made eye contact with your partner… 

bakugou part one // part two