#we’ll see what happens come spring

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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[science-hoes]

Early Spring Snow

Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

You didn’t mean to end up in your own ER after a grueling day shift. There had been an early spring snow in Pittsburgh a couple of days ago, and the daytime sun and nighttime freeze caused black ice to form everywhere. The Pitt was slammed with broken bones from slipping and falling. And you were about to be one of those patients.

You had originally planned to go back to your apartment, but your boyfriend, Jack Abbot, insisted that you go to his house while he was at work. If the weather continued to fluctuate, he wanted you to have access to his backup generator that would keep the electricity going. So you agreed, and you had picked up some groceries to cook breakfast for him when he got off his night shift.

You were double fisting the grocery bags as you walked up the sidewalk. Jack had salted the concrete to prevent black ice, and you could hear each crystal crunch under your shoes. You made it to the front door before realizing you left your keys in the car. With an annoyed huff that you could visualize in the icy air, you set the groceries down, and turned to run back to your car to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

And that was your mistake. Your foot found the singular patch of ice on the sidewalk that had evaded Jack’s salting efforts. You had no time to react, and instinctively, your hands braced your fall as you fell hard onto the concrete. A string of curse words hissed from your mouth as you unsteadily rose to your feet. You brushed off the salt from your knees and upper body, but there was an odd pain coming from your left arm.

Because of your puffy coat, you couldn’t initially see that your forearm was going in a direction that it shouldn’t. In fact, the lower half of your forearm didn’t seem to be connected to your upper half.

Fuck. You knew the endorphins were gonna wear off soon, and you wanted to be under a considerable amount of pain meds when it did. Drunk with adrenaline, you got back in your car and drove to the Pitt, ditching the groceries at Jack’s front door.

When you arrived at the parking lot of the Pitt, you were grateful to find it generally unbusy. You walked through the front door and passed through the waiting room. Mel King was the first one to spot you. She grinned and waved eagerly.

“What are you doing here?” She asked excitedly.

You smiled at your friend’s enthusiasm, but the pain in your arm reminded you of your reason to visit. “I think I broke my arm.” You replied.

Mel’s smile quickly vanished, and she began to usher you towards an empty room. “Oh, that’s not good. Let’s get you checked out.” She said.

You entered the room and began to take off your puffy winter coat. You tossed it on the chair in the room, and you heard Mel gasp. Her eyes were locked on your arm, and you saw for the first time how bad it was. Definitely broken.

She sat you on the edge of the bed and immediately began a physical exam of your wounded arm. “What happened?” She asked.

You sighed, feeling embarrassment course through your veins after teasing patients all day about this very thing. “Slipped on black ice.” You responded.

Mel nodded, not an ounce of judgment on her face. What an angel. “I’m gonna go get you a sling and get you in line for an x-ray. I’ll order some morphine, too.” She said, about to run out of the room, but hesitated for a second. “Any chance you’re pregnant?” She asked.

You felt the default answer of “no” in the back of your throat, but you stopped yourself. You had irregular periods, and you and Jack weren’t the best at using protection every time he wanted to fuck you. Although you were confident that you were not, you found yourself answering “I don’t know.”

Mel nodded, taking the information the best she could. You could see from her reaction that she was a little surprised. “Um, okay! Let me get you a sling and we’ll do a urine test before we send you off to x-ray.” She said.

And you were alone in the room again. You shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed and wondered if you should tell Mel to get Jack. The only person on staff that knew of your relationship with him was Robby. There wasn’t much opportunity for others to speculate because day shift rarely interacted with night shift. You decided against telling Jack as you vaguely remembered seeing a mass of doctors and nurses in Trauma 1.

Mel soon returned with the sling and urine cup. “Alright, let’s get you in this sling.” She said.

She guided your distorted arm into the holder of the sling, making sure you didn’t endure anymore pain. Once the strap was adjusted, she handed you the urine cup. “You know the rules. Wipe front to back with the sanitary towel, pee for a few seconds, then collect the specimen.” She instructed.

You smiled slightly. “Thank you.” You replied before heading to the bathroom.

Getting your dirtied scrub bottoms off with one hand was much harder than you thought it would be. Bits of salt were still buried in the fabric, and they began to fall onto the tile floor of the bathroom as you shimmied out of the pants. You followed Mel’s instructions to a T, then did your best to wash your good hand with soap and warm water.

As you headed back to your room, you caught a glance of Trauma 1. Jack was commanding the room with ease and working hard to creatively intubate the patient. Your heart fluttered at the sight, rarely getting to see your boyfriend in action. You reentered the room, and Mel was there waiting for you.

“Why aren’t you in Trauma 1?” You asked.

Mel took the cup from your hands and immediately dipped a pregnancy test. “Oh, they have too many people in there already.” She answered and placed the test and cup on the counter behind her. “Plus, Doctor Abbot is scary in trauma situations.”

You giggled and sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, he can be pretty fierce in a high stress situation.” You replied, trying not to let on the extent of which you knew him.

Mel nodded and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You know, I’ve heard Princess and Perlah mention that he has a girlfriend now. He’s been a lot less mean.” She added.

Your face flushed, and you prayed the fluorescent lighting wouldn’t highlight the redness. “Oh, seriously?” You tried to fake.

“Yeah. She works on the day shift I think. I don’t know who it is. Do you?” She looked to you, genuinely curious.

You shrugged nonchalantly, honing in on your best acting skills. “I don’t think so. But now I’ll be on the look out.” You replied.

Mel turned slightly to look at the test. “Oh. Um…let me get another test.” She said before hurrying out of the room.

You raised an eyebrow but figured she may not have saturated the first test enough. When she returned, she dipped the second test in the cup and placed it next to the first one.

“I’m gonna get you some acetaminophen for the baseline pain.” She said and disappeared again.

You let out a disappointed sigh. Acetaminophen wasn’t going to do shit with your broken arm. Morphine would work a lot better and faster. Mel returned with a couple of pills and a small cup of water. You downed the pills, hoping they would provide some relief.

Mel peered over at the pregnancy tests again, and you could see she was uncomfortable by the way she wrung her hands. “Okay, so both of these tests are positive. You’re pregnant.” She said, not knowing the exact tone to use.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You couldn’t even speak, but with your free hand, you reached out. Mel handed both tests to you. And she was right. Two lines instead of one. Pregnant. Your hand began to tremble, and the room spun around you.

Mel noticed your distress and placed a hand on your shoulder to push you back against the bed. Your head came to rest on the mattress. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?” She tried to calm you.

You nodded, and you followed her lead in taking two deep breaths. “I’m sorry, I just-…I didn’t know.” You admitted sheepishly.

Mel nodded. “That’s okay. It’s not what you expected. Let me go get the ultrasound machine, and I can see how far along you are.” She said before hurrying out.

You were alone in the room again. Pregnant. How could you not know? You didn’t have any morning sickness. Your irregular periods made for a perfect red herring. Maybe your bras had been a little tighter, but you assumed that was from eating extra snacks in between breaks. Oh. Eating extra snacks. Yeah, that was one sign.

Then all you could think about was Jack. You had talked about the future, about kids, but that was wishy washy stuff. You expected that to be much farther into the future. If it ever happened. Not now. Was he going to be mad? Or sad? Was he going to leave?

You were brought back to reality when Mel swung the curtain open and wheeled the ultrasound in. “Okay, I’m gonna put some warm gel on your belly, could you lift up your shirt?” She asked.

You did as she asked, and your eyes were riveted on the compression marks from your scrub pants. They had been a little snug lately. Mel squirted the gel onto your belly, then took the probe to navigate.

“We may not see anything if it’s still early. I’ll have to use the transvaginal probe if it is. But…” She trailed off as she watched the screen. “It looks like we can see baby right now. Inside the uterus where it belongs.”

You looked to the screen, and there it was. Your baby. Jack’s baby. The outline of a head and body. Arms and legs compressed against it. Just a little fetus. You felt an odd feeling in your chest, a mix between anxiety and joy.

“Oh. That’s my baby.” You said, not even aware that it was out loud and not in your head.

The curtain swung open, and you flinched at the sudden sound. Mel’s hand jerked away from your belly and turned around. Jack stood there, trying to take in the sight before him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked firmly, but you could tell he was distressed in his eyes.

You looked awkwardly to Mel, who decided to present you as a patient case. “29-year-old female presenting with suspected left radial and ulnar fractures after a fall.” She stated, in perfect form.

Jack looked to the ultrasound and back to you, unable to follow based on Mel’s presentation. “So what’s the ultrasound for?” He asked.

Mel shifted uncomfortably, not sure if she should share her coworker’s business. But you were a patient now. “She had two positive pregnancy tests, and I was confirming with ultrasound before sending her to x-ray.” She explained. “Would you like to check?”

Jack had kept his eyes on you the whole time, something unreadable in his face. You had gotten pretty good at understanding the small changes in his expression. He never smiled, even when he laughed, so you had to pick up on the tiniest changes to figure out his mood. But this was new.

“Yes, thank you, Dr. King.” He answered, trading places with her on the rolling stool next to your bed.

He dragged the probe across your belly, staring straight at the screen. You watched him intently, trying to decipher his body language.

“Dr. King, can you give an estimated gestational age?” He asked.

Mel looked at the monitor, noting the baby’s features. “About 12 weeks. About to start the second trimester.” She answered.

You felt another wave of anxiety rush through you. You missed the entire first trimester. “A-are you sure?” You asked.

Jack nodded, not looking away from the screen. “She’s right. Measuring at about 5.4 centimeters.” He confirmed, voice as firm as ever.

Mel looked to you, a small smile on her face. “At 12 weeks, you can tell the gender.” She reminded you.

You looked to Jack, who was diligently studying the baby’s anatomy, making sure there were absolutely no informalities as of now. “The gender?” You repeated, and it brought Jack back to reality.

Jack turned to look at you fully for the first time since he entered the room. Those hazel eyes were welled up with tears, and he was doing everything he could from letting them spill over. “Do you want to know?” He asked, and you could hear the barely-there strain in his vocal cords.

You nodded, not breaking his eye contact. “Yes, please.” You whispered.

It took ounce of military training to hold Jack from breaking down in tears. “It’s a boy.” He answered as steadily as he could.

You smiled, then grinned, and tears streaked down your cheeks. “A boy?” You repeated.

Jack nodded, twisting his face to prevent himself from crying, grateful his face was turned away from Mel. “Yeah, a healthy baby boy.” He affirmed.

You brought your free hand to your face to wipe away some of the tears, and you laughed with a new joy you hadn’t felt before. Jack turned away from you in that moment, but still not fully facing Mel.

“Dr. King, could you go check with imaging and see if they’re ready?” He asked.

Mel nodded. “Yes, sir.” She replied, but looked to you and smiled the biggest smile she had. “Congrats on the baby boy!”

You matched her smile. “Thank you, Mel.” You replied, and then she disappeared behind the curtain.

Before you could begin to speak, Jack wrapped you into his arms, carefully cradling you to avoid your broken arm. The love you felt from that embrace had more than exceeded your expectations. “You’re not mad?” You asked, pulling away slightly.

Jack looked to you with an offended demeanor. “Mad?” He questioned while rubbing your shoulder. “Sweetheart, I could never be mad at you.” He added. “Especially over this.”

You smiled and ran your free hand through his thick, silvered curls. “You’re gonna be a dad.” You whispered.

Jack’s bottom lip quivered, and the tears spilled over his face. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He repeated.

You had never seen him cry before. You desperately wished you had two available arms to pull him tightly into your embrace. Instead, you guided his head to rest close to yours and kissed him gently. He energetically returned the kiss, fingers threading through your hair. But he pulled away when reality hit him.

“Wait, how did you break your arm?” He asked, a new wave of concern washing over his face.

You rolled your eyes at your own clumsiness. “I slipped and fell on black ice outside of your house.” You responded.

Jack huffed, disappointed that he hadn’t put down enough salt. “I’m sorry, love. I thought I fixed it up for you.” He replied.

You shrugged and a slow smile found its way to your lips. “It’s okay. Because now I’m here. And now we have a baby.”

Jack’s concerned expression melted into one of pure happiness. It was one that you had only seen a few times. But despite his tear-streaked face, the joy was unmistakable.

—

A/N: Yeah I’m a sucker for giving my favorite characters a baby, sorry this wasn’t super long, but I wanted to write it before the week started!

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hello can you do a fic where one of the drivers (carlos, george,lando) daughters has her wisdom teeth taken out and shes super nervous but her dad calms her down and helps her after surgery?

Wisdom Teeth

The morning sun filtered through the light curtains of Yn’s bedroom, illuminating the nervous sixteen-year-old as she stood in front of her mirror, clutching a bottle of pineapple juice like it was a lifeline. Her eyes, usually bright with curiosity and humor, were clouded with anxiety. Her hands trembled slightly as she took another sip, and her reflection stared back with a tight-lipped frown that matched the pit in her stomach.

From the hallway, Rebecca’s voice floated in.

“Sweetheart, are you still drinking pineapple juice?”

Yn’s voice was quiet, a little shaky. “I read it helps with swelling...”

Carlos popped his head into the doorway, grinning as he leaned against the frame with crossed arms. “Mi amor, I think you’ve had enough pineapple juice to turn into one.”

Rebecca chuckled behind him, walking in and ruffling her daughter’s hair gently. “You’re going to be okay, Yn. It’s just your wisdom teeth.”

“Just my wisdom teeth?” Yn squeaked, turning to face them both, her eyes wide. “They’re going to rip teeth out of my skull. That doesn’t feel like a small thing, mamá.”

Carlos pushed himself off the doorway and came to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “They’re not ripping anything, princesa. They’re gently taking out teeth you don’t need anymore. Think of it like decluttering. You know how your mamá made us get rid of all those old clothes last spring?”

“That was different,” Yn mumbled, her head falling onto his chest. “The clothes didn’t bleed.”

Carlos and Rebecca both burst out laughing, but Carlos tightened his arm around his daughter, brushing his hand over her hair.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” he said gently. “I’ll hold your hand the entire time if you want.”

She sniffled a bit but nodded. “Okay... but can we go now before I change my mind?”

The drive to the dental office was quiet—at least from Yn’s end. Her legs kept bouncing up and down nervously, her sneaker tapping against the floor of the car with rapid rhythm. Rebecca was humming softly to the radio while Carlos drove, glancing at his daughter every few seconds in the rearview mirror.

“You’re shaking the whole car,” Carlos teased, reaching back to gently touch her knee. “You’re going to burn a hole through the floor.”

Yn gave him a weak smile. “Sorry... I can’t stop.”

Rebecca turned in her seat to look back at her. “It’s okay to be scared, sweet girl. I was terrified when I had mine taken out too.”

“You were?” Yn looked surprised.

“Terrified,” Rebecca nodded, her voice warm and reassuring. “Your dad had to bribe me with six milkshakes and a foot massage.”

Carlos scoffed. “That’s not what happened.”

Rebecca grinned. “Oh, it definitely is.”

Yn let out a nervous laugh. “If I survive this, I want milkshakes too.”

“Deal,” Carlos said immediately.

At the dental office, Yn sat stiffly in the waiting room chair, clutching a soft fleece blanket she’d brought from home. She hadn’t said a word since they checked in. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and her breathing was shallow.

Carlos sat down beside her and placed a hand on her knee. “Princesa,” he said softly, “look at me.”

She turned her head, and he could see the panic rising in her eyes.

Carlos leaned forward and took both her hands in his. “I know this is scary. But you’re not alone, okay? I’m going to be with you every single second. I’ll hold your hand until you fall asleep, and I’ll be there when you wake up. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she quickly blinked them away. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Cross my heart, te lo juro.”

When the nurse came to get her, Carlos stood immediately. “I’m coming too,” he said, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

The nurse just smiled and led them both down the hallway.

Carlos kept his promise.

He held her hand tightly as she lay back in the chair, the anesthesiologist working quickly and kindly. He ran his thumb over her knuckles and murmured soft, calming words in Spanish as her eyelids fluttered closed.

“I love you, Papá,” she whispered, voice already fading under the drugs.

“I love you more, mija.”

An hour later, Yn began to stir.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she mumbled something unintelligible through the cotton stuffed in her mouth. Her eyes squinted in confusion, her brows furrowed like she was trying to solve a math problem.

“Papá?” she slurred, voice high and panicked. “Where’s my Papá? Where’s my... where’s my mouth? I think they took my whole mouth!”

Carlos leaned forward from the chair beside her and cupped her cheek gently. “I’m right here, mi amor. Still have your mouth. A little swollen, maybe, but it’s all there.”

Yn blinked up at him with big, teary eyes. “Oh my God, you’re so pretty. Are you an angel? Did I die?”

Carlos bit back laughter. “No, you’re very much alive, cariño. You just had your wisdom teeth out.”

She blinked again, slowly. “Is it okay that I love you? Like a lot? Oh my God, I wish you were my Papá.”

Carlos laughed quietly and brushed some hair from her forehead. “It’s very okay.”

“I love you more than... than... more than pineapple juice,” she declared.

“That’s a lot of love,” he teased.

They got her into a wheelchair, and Carlos helped guide her toward the exit. She was still groggy, her head bobbing, and every few seconds she would gasp loudly like she just had the greatest realization known to man.

As Carlos gently helped her into the car, Yn gasped so loudly Rebecca jumped.

“What? What is it?” Carlos asked, concern flickering through him.

Yn stared at him, wide-eyed. “Papá,” she said slowly, dramatically, “what if... what if every statue is actually a person who looked at Medusa?”

Carlos blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then let out a long sigh, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re not doing philosophy today, princesa. Let’s just get you home.”

“But think about it—every statue,” she whispered, her words muffled by the cotton, her finger pointed to the sky as if revealing a conspiracy.

Carlos chuckled as he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. “Rebecca,” he said as he buckled in, “our daughter just solved ancient mythology.”

Rebecca snorted. “At least she’s high and smart.”

The whole drive home, Carlos kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his daughter’s, just like he promised. He kept glancing at her in the mirror as she mumbled about Greek gods, chicken nuggets, and how she was pretty sure the dentist was a sorcerer.

And even though she was high on anesthesia, cotton in her mouth and cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, Carlos had never seen anyone more perfect.

“You did great, princesa,” he murmured, smiling as he turned into their driveway. “So proud of you.”

Yn blinked at him from the back seat, dazed and loopy but smiling.

“I’m proud of me too,” she said with a slurred lisp, then added, “Can I have... twenty milkshakes now?”

Carlos laughed, already getting out of the car. “You’re lucky I love you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[steveseddie]

winning shot

written for the @steddiebingo get lucky mini event | prompt: green | wc: 1,4k | rating: t | tags: basketball games, getting together, background lucas/max

read on ao3

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Eddie says, looking down at the jacket that Steve gave him when he showed up at the trailer.

“I’m not making you do anything,” Steve says with a snort. “You said you wanted to make up for how much of a dick you were to Sinclair before Spring Break.”

Eddie rolls his eyes even if he did say that. “Yeah, but I was thinking more like, letting him roll with advantage on our next campaign or something.”

“Supporting him during the first game of the season is better,” Steve says snobbishly.

And it might be. After all, the whole thing happened because of a basketball game.

But–

“Do I really have to wear this?” Eddie asks with a whiny tilt to his voice.

“Depends. Do you own anything green?” Steve throws back, his hands settling on his hips.

“No,” Eddie mumbles.

“Then yes.”

Throwing his head back, Eddie groans. “Steveeee, it’s your letterman jacket.”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. Doesn’t he get what Eddie is saying?

“It has your name on it.”

“I know.”

Eddie sighs, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Won’t it– it might make people think– you know–”

“What?”

“That you and I are– you know–” He sputters awkwardly.

“Yeah,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “So?”

“So?” Eddie repeats, baffled. “Do I need to remind you that we live in a small town with small-minded people that already hate me?”

Steve’s face softens at that. “Nothing’s gonna happen, Eds. Jason Carver is gone and the charges have been dropped and everyone will be focused on the game anyway.”

“Fine, let’s say no one tries to burn me at the stake, they still might think we’re together.”

“I don’t care.”

Eddie shuts down the little flutter he feels in his chest. Just because Steve doesn’t mind, it doesn’t mean that it’s something he wants. “That won’t exactly help you score any dates, man.”

“So?” Steve repeats, making Eddie roll his eyes.

“You’re being impossible, Stevie.”

“No, you are,” he says, grabbing the jacket from Eddie’s hands and pressing it against his chest. “Put this on and stop whining.”

Eddie glares at him half-heartedly. “This is going to ruin my reputation worse than the murder charges,” he says but dutifully shrugs the jacket on, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when he smells Steve’s laundry detergent.

When he looks up, Steve is watching him with a weird expression that makes Eddie fidget. “That bad?” He asks jokingly.

Steve shakes his head, swallows thickly and averts his eyes. And people call Eddie weird. “You’re so dramatic. Come on, we’ll be late.”

And with that, he starts walking to his car. Eddie sighs and follows him. Sinclair better fucking appreciate this.

**

They arrive just as the game is about to start. The bleachers are packed, but Steve makes a beeline for the two spots that Max saved for them.

Clearly she didn’t believe that Eddie would actually show up because her eyes widen a little when she spots them. Then they dart down and her lips tug up into a smirk.

“What are you wearing?” She asks when Eddie flops down next to her.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

"Is that Steve’s letterman jacket?”

“No,” Eddie lies through gritted teeth.

She sniggers. “You’re so lame, man.”

Eddie splutters indignantly. “Shut up! You’re wearing Sinclair’s jacket!”

Her cheeks pink up a bit, but she still acts smug when she says, “Yeah, because he’s my boyfriend. What’s your excuse?”

Eddie growls, which only makes her smile turn even more smug.

The game starts shortly after. A few minutes in, Sinclair glances in their direction and Eddie sees him make a double take when he spots Eddie. He smiles and waves and Eddie begrudgingly waves back even if he can’t help but feel a surge of affection for the kid.

“Told you he’d be happy to see you,” Steve whispers to him.

Eddie knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Are you gonna explain to me what’s happening, big boy? Or are you just gonna act smug?”

Steve’s eyes sparkle and then he’s explaining basketball to Eddie with the same patience and enthusiasm that he has explained his campaigns or his books or his music. Eddie is instantly endeared.

He catches Max’s eye while Steve is going on and on about something called a ‘shooting guard’.

“Lame,” she mouths, probably because of how whipped Eddie looks right now.

He manages to flip her off without Steve noticing.

**

Near the end of the game, the two teams are tied and it’s up to Sinclair to score the winning shot.

Or at least that’s what Eddie gets from Steve’s hurried explanation.

Everyone at the gym watches with baited breath as Lucas prepares to make the shot. Even Eddie. Though in his case it’s not because he’s invested in the game, but because Steve’s hand is currently wrapped around his wrist, his thumb absently rubbing circles over Eddie’s pulse. Holy shit.

A whistle blows and the shot is made, but Eddie keeps his eyes on their hands, tucked into the space between their legs. Lucas must score, winning the game, because suddenly everyone around them jumps up and starts cheering and clapping.

That includes Steve, who drags Eddie to his feet with the hand that’s still holding Eddie’s.

When Steve finally lets go so he can join the celebration, it takes a moment for Eddie to remember how to move and when he starts clapping too, he can still feel the phantom press of Steve’s thumb against his pulse.

**

They take Max and Lucas out for ice cream after the game.

The kid is on cloud nine, recounting the game as if they didn’t just see him play it. When they drop him off, Lucas thanks Steve for the ride and Eddie for showing up, even if he knows just how painful it must’ve been for him to step foot in the gym.

When it’s Max’s turn, she makes sure to call Eddie ‘lame’ one last time before heading inside.

There’s no need for Steve to move the car with how close Max’s house is to the Munson’s trailer, but he insists on backing up and parking on Eddie’s driveway anyway.

“So what did you think?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Eddie mumbles, and looks up to find Steve smirking. “Don’t expect me to go to every game now, I still think people throwing balls at laundry baskets is stupid.”

“But I could talk you into coming to a few games at least?”

Steve could probably talk him into attending church, Eddie thinks. “Maybe,” he says.

His smirk turns into a lopsided grin that makes Eddie feel a little hot under the collar.

The collar of the letterman jacket he’s still wearing. Right.

“Anyway thanks for the ride. And for letting me wear this,” he says as he starts to shrug it off, but Steve stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Keep it,” he says, biting his bottom lip. “For the next game.”

“You know,” Eddie says, cocking his head and giving Steve a calculating look. “I saw a lot of people not wearing green at the game. Thought that was like, mandatory or something.”

“Uh, no but if you really wanted to show your support to Lucas then–” He trails off with a shrug.

“Mhm, but you know what I did see?” Eddie says, slowly starting to lean over the console. “A lot of girls wearing their boyfriends’ letterman jackets.” He lets his lips stretch into a grin and watches as Steve’s eyes dart down to his mouth. “Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that an excuse to get me to wear yours?”

Steve gulps guiltily. “Yeah. I don’t think I was ready for how it would make me feel, though.”

“How’s that?”

“Like this,” he says, grabbing the lapel of the jacket and pulling Eddie towards him, all but crashing their lips together.

Eddie makes a noise of surprise but wastes no time before cupping Steve’s cheek with his hand and kissing him back. He’s glad it’s late and the trailer park is quiet and empty so no one can see them making out.

They eventually pull away, both their lips red and slick with spit, and both stretched into a grin.

“I think I’m gonna have to wear this more often,” Eddie says, smoothing the jacket over his chest. “If that’s how it makes you feel.”

“I thought it was ruining your reputation,” Steve says with a snort.

Eddie laughs. “It is,” he says before fluttering his eyelashes at Steve. “But you’re worth it, sweetheart.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

..

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.  

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

..

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

[i-dared-myself]

Surprise

Stray Kids x reader

In which your period starts unexpectedly and SKZ begins their mission to comfort you

One thing that was difficult about the job was always going. You love your job, but it was too much sometimes.

Especially on days like these. Days where you’re up on stage, focusing hard on rhythms and moments when that dull tug on your stomach flares up.

You brush it off as muscle strain and continue. The choreography is hard and took you weeks to perfect, but your fans love it. You won’t show weakness or flaws.

And then the dull tug shifts to a constant ache. 

You stumble over a move that you usually ace, and Felix shoots you a look. You smile at him until he returns it before returning your attention back to the dance.

The song comes to an end and Jisung tells a joke, leaning on Minho. Seungmin pulls a face at the cringy play on words before raising the microphone to his lips to poke fun at it.

You lower yourself to the ground casually, knowing this intermission between songs would last at least ten minutes. The sketches were planned out as a bit of a break and something to keep Stay entertained.

“You good?” Jeongin asks as he crouches next to you. You hum in response.

“Yeah, all good.” You give him a thumbs-up to really drive the point home. 

You don’t know what this pain could be.

Your period ended four days ago, so probably not that. Internal bleeding was also not that much of a concern because-

That’s where your train of thought cut off. Just like that. Then all you knew was the excruciating pain in your abdomen. It took up every bit of your focus.

“-did Changbin say after he crossed the road?” Distantly you register it as Jisung’s voice, although it’s hard to concentrate. You’re just trying not to writhe in pain on the floor, as your idol image would be ruined.

Then it clicks that you’re supposed to say the next part of the joke. It’s your line. This is what you had rehearsed.

You raise your microphone to your mouth. “What did Changbin say?”

Jisung delivers the punchline with a giggle. Hyunjin tampers down a smile that fights to make its grand entrance, hiding behind Chan slightly.

Then the others are gathering in a like for the final bow, and you rush to join them. Your knees wobble beneath you and you force a smile as the camera flicks to you. Your head is light and your limbs feel like Jello.

“Are you okay?” Minho whispers to you. He’s not one to show his concern often, but it’s there.

“I-“ You blink forcefully before your legs collapse beneath you. Your head hits the floor and you let out a quiet cry as spots dance in front of your eyes.

Chan hurries the goodbyes into the microphone before shooing the others off the stage. Changbin scoops you up and brings you backstage while the crowd roars in a mix of confusion and distress.

“What happened?” Joengin murmurs to Seungmin as Felix runs ahead, clearing people out of the way.

“She just… fell,” Seungmin struggles to say, unsure of what occurred. Changbin puts you down on your feet, but you still lean heavily against him.

“I’m sorry.” Tears bubble out of the corners of your eyes. Your vision blurs as you look to Chan. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“

“Hey,” he soothes gently. “It’s okay. We’ll just-“

“What?” Your stomach sinks as he freezes, eyes widening. “Chan?”

“Oh.” Chan swallows and slips his jacket off, tying it around your waist. “It’s uh, y’know.”

“What?” Jisung frowns and scratches his head. “Is her butt cold?”

“It’s her period, you idiot,” Hyunjin scolds as smacks Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung springs away with a shriek. “He’s hiding the blood.”

You cover your face with your hands. “I’m so sorry, guys. This is- I-“

“Come with me, please,” the first aid worker interrupts. They offer a kind smile and gesture to a changing room. “I’ll see you in there.”

Changbin transfers you to them, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Scream if you need us.”

You frown. “Um. Okay. I probably won’t, but thanks.”

“What’s the plan?” Jeongin asks once you’re gone. 

“What?” Felix crosses his arms with a small scowl. “Like PR control or…”

“How we’re helping her,” Jeongin clarifies. “Our hotel isn’t that far away from a convenience store. We could buy chips and stuff.”

“Good idea.” Chan stretches his arms out and rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Seungmin, Jisung, and Hyunjin go to the store and get supplies. Don’t forget pads and tampons.”

Jisung laughs nervously. “Both? Do we get every size of both?”

“Just go with your gut,” Chan dismissively says. “Felix, Changbin, Minho, and Jeongin make a blanket fort in one of the hotel rooms. I’ll take her back to the hotel.”

“Got it.” Changbin grabs his extra set of clothes and the others follow his lead. “Meet in the room in an hour.”

So they split up to complete their missions.

Chan is the one to stay behind with you. When you come out of the private room, you look deflated and upset. Chan clears his throat to draw your attention to him.

“Everything okay?” Chan holds out his extra hoodie. You take it and pull it over your head.

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “Too much stress can make it irregular, apparently.”

Chan’s stomach sinks and he feels guilty. Was it his fault you were stressed? Has he been pushing you past your limits?”

“Ah.” Chan returns the strained expression. “Ready to go back?”

“Yeah.” You close your eyes and blow out a heavy breath. “I just want to shower and sleep. I’m really not in the mood for anything else tonight.”

Oh no.

“Nothing else tonight?” Chan casually asks, whipping out his phone to tell the others to cancel. He nearly panics when he sees it’s dead.

“Absolutely nothing.” You wrap your hands around your stomach and wince. “Chan, can we go please?”

“Of course.” He pulls the hood up to cover more of you. “There’s a van waiting.”

The two of you climb into the vehicle, as Chan hopes the others somehow get his telepathic messages to abort the mission.

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

“Tampons, pads, period underwear, cups…” Hyunjin lists, reading off his phone. “There’s a lot of options. Will we be able to find them all here?”

“You think a convenience store sells period underwear?” Seungmin lifts an eyebrow. “I think we’ll be lucky if we find more than one size of pads.”

“We should get at least three types of ice cream,” Jisung decidedly says. He wiggles three fingers out for the other two to see. “Because there’s eight of us and we can eat a bunch of ice cream.”

“I’m in the mood for ice cream,” Hyunjin agrees. He elbows Seungmin lightly. “What about you?”

“Yeah, but don’t forget candy and chocolates.” Seungmin adjusts his mask before stepping into the shop. Hyunjin and Jisung follow closely behind. “Now where are those pads…”

“They’re down the aisle and to the right,” the worker says, not bothering to hide her boredom. She pops bubblegum with her mouth and flips through a magazine. “Don’t buy tampons for a stranger. Not everyone uses them.”

Jisung murmurs his thanks before trailing down the aisle. He finds the desired section and stands in front of it with a determined set of his jaw. “Does she have heavy flow?”

Seungmin wrinkles his nose from beneath his mask. “How are we supposed to know that?”

“It’s heavy if she bled through her pants, right? Or is it just because her pants were white?” Hyunjin takes a box of the shelf and examines it carefully. “Go with medium flow. Is that an option? What’s the default?”

“What do the wings do?” Seungmin questions as he peers over Hyunjin’s shoulder. 

“No idea.” Jisung stares wide-eyed at all of the colourful boxes. He picks one out and holds it up. “I saw this one in her suitcase when she moved into the dorm.”

“That’s a lot of happy women,” Hyunjin observes, running his finger over the design of the packaging. “Maybe the pads make them feel better, because there’s no way I’d be exercising if I was bleeding out.”

“Yeah, why are they all running?” Jisung giggles to himself. He tucks the box under his arm. “Snacks next.”

Hyunjin takes about three ice cream containers out of the freezer in the back. “Got them. Now hurry up before it melts.”

Seungmin chooses about five chocolate bars, six candy packets, and one pack of gum for good measure. They all walk up to the counter together and dump their supplies for the worker to scan.

“Is this everything?” She seems amused as Hyunjin pays. “You don’t need ramen or a lighter?”

“Why would we need a lighter?” Seungmin glances back at Jisung. “Are the pads heat-activated?”

“No,” she immediately says. “Don’t try setting them on fire.”

They all shrug before filing out of the store.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Grab the blankets and pillows from your rooms,” Minho orders as he pushes the two beds in his room together. He shares the room with Hyunjin, Chan, and Seungmin. “Hurry!”

The other three dash out of the room and return in about two minutes. Blankets and pillows are overflowing from their grasp.

“What are we doing?” Felix wonders as he dunps everything onto the two beds. “What are we making?”

“I dunno.” Changbin shrugs as Jeongin begins to sort everything. “It just looks like a mess to me.”

Minho rolls his eyes at them. “Shut up and help before I kill you both.”

Felix and Changbin instantly start working. Felix arranges the pillows while Changbin deals with the blankets.

“Wait.” Jeongin spreads his arms, halting the others. “The sheets are white.”

“You’re right.” Felix gasps dramatically. “What if she accidentally stains it and then gets embarrassed?”

“What if we cover it with blood first?” Minho suggests. “Where’s my knife?”

Changbin flinches back. “Yeah, no. If it happens we’ll just cover it before she sees it.”

“Good idea,” Felix praises. He side-eyes Minho. “And why did you bring a knife?”

“I had to borrow one from housekeeping to open a snack from the vending machine,” Minho explains. He faces Jeongin. “Figure out the TV remote before they get back. I’m sure we can all put our heads together.”

Changbin frowns uneasily. “Hotel remotes are unbeatable. There’s no way we can figure it out.”

“What if we all put on a video on our phones and then like zoom in on different parts,” Felix suggests. “Then we glue all our phones together to make one big screen.”

Minho squints at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

There’s a gentle knock at the door. They all straighten before Jeongin announces that the door is unlocked. Hyunjin, Jisung, and Seungmin all enter, supplies in hand.

“Is that everything?” Changbin asks. “Did you get good pads?”

“We think so,” Hyunjin remarks. “Do we… test it?”

Felix wrinkles his nose. “Obviously not. We need to just treat her normally, but also really nice at the same time. Don’t be too obvious that it’s her period, but also treat her like she’s a goddess.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” Jisung hisses under his breath.

The door is pushed open again. Chan walks inside, you following dully behind him.

“Surprise!” Jeongin shouts. When the others shoot him filthy looks he tugs at his hair. “I panicked, okay?”

“What’s this?” You perk up a little bit. The corner of your lips quirk up slightly.

“We got you some stuff.” Seungmin points at the convenience store things before climbing on the beds and sprawling out. “What do the wings do?”

“Pretty much nothing.” You snort in amusement. “Thanks guys. I got a pad from the first aid attendant, but I appreciate it. I will, however, enjoy that ice cream.”

“There were some spoons in the drawer.” Minho displays the silverware for you.

You take on. “I only need one, but thanks.”

They watch in both horror and interest as you consume all three ice cream containers in about ten minutes. Then you throw yourself back on the beds and they take it as their signal for snuggles.

“Cuddle time?” Jisung hopefully asks from the edge of the beds. When you nod and scoot over to make room, the entire group all clambers on into a giant cuddle pile.

Chan ends up near you, with Changbin squishing him. He murmurs to you, “I’m sorry. I stressed you out and this whole thing was all my fault and-“

You shush him softly from below Jeongin, who is acting like your personal heating pad. “It’s okay, Chan. Life is just like this sometimes. It’s nice that you guys are all great with this, though. It’s… Thanks.”

Chan swallows. “Anytime.”

“I was really looking forward to some ice cream,” Hyunjin whispers to Jisung in disappointment.

Your eyes well up in tears. “That was for everyone? I’m so sorry!” 

They all groan and smack Hyunjin as you start wailing. Then they turn to comforting you, assuring you that it was all for you.

[slvtteez]

☸ Dorm Series: Part- Eight | 최종호

| series masterlist | previous |

✦ summary: you and jongho decide to spend your day together playing your favorite video games. fun banter is a part of the fun until you take it too far. ✦ pairings: idol! boyfriend jongho x fem! reader ✦ genre: smut!, idol boyfriend au ✦ word count: 1.6 k ✦ warnings: smut!, dom jongho, reader doesn't like to lose, oral sex (m receive), punishment, rough jongho, face fucking, sloppy head, gagging, hand job, reader loves to be praised, face painting (with cum), slight hair pulling, praise kink, cussing from Jongho ✦ a/n: the end of ateez dorm series is here😭. this was my very first series it feels a bit bittersweet that it's over but I truly enjoyed writing and reading this. I hope you all enjoy it just as much as I did!💗

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be a realistic representation of any of the real people mentioned.

nsfw content below. 18+ - mdni

After weeks of planning with many failed attempts to see each other, you and Jongho finally found the right day to spend some quality time together. Since you were busy with your studies and he was in the middle of preparing for a new comeback it was harder for you both to see each other lately. So here you were sitting crossed legged in his bed, clutching the game controller tightly in your hand on the brink of winning in Mario Kart. 

“Ha! I win again!” You squeal happily, playfully sticking your tongue out at Jongho who’d only rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah yeah. I was going easy on you.” He replies.

“It’s okay to admit you lost fair in square. Three times in the row might I add.” You smile cheekily at him.

Rolling his eyes again, Jongho just shakes his head at your response refusing to feed into your delusion.

 “How about for the next round whoever loses has to do what the winner wants.” A mischievous grin takes over Jongho’s face.

“That’s fine I’m gonna win anyways. You’ll be calling me queen y/n for the rest of the month.” You respond with a smug look taking over your features.

“We’ll see about that.” Jongho mumbles to himself, his mind already set on playing the game properly to put you back in your place.

⬦⬥⬦

“What was all that you were saying?” Jongho laughs at the stunned look plastered on your face. He’d beat you in less than 5 minutes, giving you no room to even catch up with him.

“You cheated!” You whined not believing the results.

“How could I cheat babe? You saw me, I did nothing different.” 

“Whatever cheater. You only won one game so you’re still a loser.” You bite back, rolling your eyes refusing to accept defeat.

Jongho cocks his eyebrow at your words not liking the attitude you were giving him. He stands walking over to your sitting figure, a slight smirk playing on his lips. 

“Since I won it’s only right, you do what I want.” His hands grip your legs gently unraveling them, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. You peer up at him not knowing what crazy ideas were running through his head.

“You know babe, that mouth of yours always gets you in trouble. Do you know what happens to bratty girls who run their mouths? ” He tsks. You immediately cower at his words, remembering what Jongho had done the last time you did something that he’d deemed as bratty.

“I- I.” You stutter out completely lost for words feeling his heated gaze bore into your face.

“Shhhh. The only sound I want to hear is you choking on my dick.” He growls lowly, pulling you off the bed.

“B-but the members. T-they’re in the other room.” You stammer out stunned at his request.

“What they hear is all up to you sweetheart. Now kneel down.”

Without another word you position yourself comfortably on your knees between Jongho’s legs coming face to face with his already large bulge. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his briefs you pull them down bit by bit until they fall to his feet. His thick length springs forward, tip already slightly red showing his arousal. You couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of his cock, doing your best to prepare for whatever Jongho might do. Taking your time, you grip the base of his dick giving it a few tugs watching as small beads of precum spill from the slit. You quickly lick the essence before it could fall, a small moan sounding off at the taste. 

Jongho releases a breathy gasp at your actions waiting eagerly for your next movement. He watches carefully as your mouth fully engulfs around the head of his cock, sucking gently at the sensitive flesh. His knees buckle at the sight of your saliva trickling down his shaft, spreading with each stroke of your hand. Feeling impatient with your deliberately slow actions Jongho takes matters into his own hands.

“Move your hands.” he growls lowly. You remove your hand, eyes widen, feeling Jongho’s hands grip your head keeping you in place.

He forcefully thrusts into your mouth, his thick length gagging you in the process filling your mouth completely. Jongho stills his hips, relishing in how wet and warm it felt around him before pulling out fully. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s plunging his cock back into your mouth forcing it even deeper before. 

Your eyes close at the force, tears brimming your eyes, feeling his tip graze the back of your throat harshly. Jongho’s grip on your head tightens as he begins to fuck into your mouth. His strokes are rough and precise as he mercilessly uses your mouth for his own pleasure. 

“Shit. You feel so fucking good.” He mutters, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sensation.

You can’t help the muffled moan that spills from your mouth at his words, finally relaxing in his grasp with each thrust. Wanting to please him even more you hollow your cheeks, suctioning his cock perfectly. Jongho moans loudly from the sudden action, his hips bucking even more at how well you sucked his dick. 

“Keep doing that and you're gonna make me cum quick.” He groans, pulling out of your mouth. He watched as thick saliva spilled messily down your mouth, covering your shirt and his floor.

“You look so sexy like this. Taking my dick like a good girl.” He whispers softly, stroking the sides of your head.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, basking in the praise he was giving you. Jongho knew how much you enjoyed being praised by him especially in your most intimate moments.

“You still have to be taught a lesson for being naughty.” He sighs mockingly.

“Open up.” He says. You open your mouth once again sticking your tongue out, feeling a slight ache start to form in your jaw from his previous assault.

Jongho grabs his cock giving it a few small strokes before tapping his tip on your tongue.

“After today you’ll think twice before you speak.” He says pushing his cock back into your waiting mouth. 

You close around his length taking him down inch by inch until your nose is pressed completely against his pelvis. Fingers tangling in your hair, he holds your head down rutting his hips forward in small circles, a feral growl emitting from his chest as your moans vibrate through his cock.

“Fuck you’re so good.” He moans, the hold on your hair relaxing a bit. 

You eagerly begin to bob your head, desperately wanting more praise from Jongho. Your hands find their way back to his length, working the rest of him with both your hands.

“Look at me.” He commands

Your eyes flit up to meet his eyes, a fiery glint shone behind them. Jongho felt his orgasm slowly creeping up on him with each movement. Seeing how eager you were to please him, the cock drunk look that glazed over your eyes, how messy you were around his cock. He felt weak in the knees at the sight of you like this wanting nothing more than to paint your pretty face with his cum.

“Fuck keep going. I’m so close.” He groans, head falling back as you pick up your pace. His grip tightens in your hair, hips thrust matching your rhythm perfectly. With each thrust you feel Jongho’s cock twitch in your mouth, the taste of his precum coating your tongue spreading through your mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna cum!” Jongho moans quickly pulling out of your mouth. He begins to jerk his cock swiftly, desperately chasing his orgasm. You watch as his face scrunches up tightly, mouth falling agape, pleasure wrecking through his body as he hits his peak. With a loud moan, his cum squirts out wildly, splashing all over your face. You moan at the warm sensation, feeling his release trickle down your face.

He pulled back pulling you up from the floor, Jongho’s lips encompassing yours. His tongue exploring your mouth greedily moaning at the taste.

“Good girl. You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He coos, coaxing a wide smile to grace your face.

“Anything to please you.”

“I hope you remember this next time you think about getting smart with me.” Jongho gazes pointedly at you. You only nod in response, refusing to show how much you enjoyed his way of “punishing” you.

Jongho’s hands find their way to the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric out of the way before carelessly ripping your panties off. A surprised gasp leaves your mouth from his abrupt actions. 

“Now for your reward.” He guides you to the bed, spreading your legs wide. 

Jongho eyes your pussy wanting to cum again just from the sight of your glistening pussy, longing to be touched.

A knock sounds at the door interrupting Jongho’s thoughts.

“Uhh s-sorry to interrupt, but how much longer are you gonna be. I’m trying to sleep.” Yunho’s low voice rings out from the other side of the door.

“Sorry hyung, I'll keep it down.” Jongho replies, a smirk playing on his lips. Without another word Yunho walks away back to his room.

You look back to Jongho who removed his clothing in the process picking up your ruined panties.

“Open.” He says, bringing your panties to your lips.

You open your mouth feeling the soaked lace fill your mouth.

“If you want to cum you better keep it down.” He teases making his way down to your pussy, finally giving you what you longed for.

—taglist: @spicxbnny @dawn-iscozy @st4ytiny @nopension @ateezswonderland @jiminssluttyminx @sunnysidesins

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it like, reblog with tags, comment, and follow!

[moonstruckme]

hi! i was wondering if you could make some more bartender!sirius x reader stories! anything works really! i love love love your writing 💞

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: attempted sa, police are called (but don't worry, everything is fine)

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius isn’t ashamed to say he’s had his eye on you tonight. You’re a sweet-looking thing, with sparkly eyes and a big, genuine smile that you’d beamed right at him as you ordered your drink. You got your first couple from Marlene, but most recently you came up to him. You’d leaned your elbows on the bar, looked at him with those lovely eyes, and said all the pleases and thank yous and may Is that always make Sirius want to climb over the counter and hug the customers who use them. He'd have comped your drink if you weren’t clearly here with someone else. 

And that someone else seems to be infatuated with you. Appropriately so, Sirius thinks. He takes your hand to lead you over to a couch along the wall, and he nods so eagerly while you speak that it looks like his head is on a spring, and when you turn to look at something he’s pointed out he reaches over and—

“Hey!” 

Several heads turn at Sirius’ shout, but the important part is that yours does. Not before your lips close around the straw of your drink, though. Sirius doesn’t have to work to convey urgency in his expression—that comes quite naturally. He waves his hand to beckon you back to the bar.

You obey, not looking upset but rather tentative as you make your way through the crowd. Your date stands with you, but something in Sirius’ face must tip him off. He disappears towards the exit. Sirius wants to go after him and strangle the bloke with his own two hands, but he’ll have to worry about that later. 

“Don’t drink that,” he says once he thinks you’re within earshot. 

You’re not, evidently. “What?” 

“Give it here.” Sirius leans across the bar, reaching for your drink. It’s only the caution in your expression that reminds him to say, “Please.” 

You hand it over, eyebrows raising when he brings it behind the bar and immediately pours it into the sink. 

“Erm…am I going to be refunded for that?” 

Sirius shakes his head, but managing a breathless, frazzled, “Yeah.” 

He feels so far out of his depth. Nothing like this has ever happened during one of his shifts—at least, fuck, not that he knows of. Sirius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. 

He starts by looking you in the eyes. “The bloke you were with put something in your drink.” 

Your lips part, brows twitching together. “What? No, he…” You turn your head, clearly expecting your date to be right behind you. Sirius watches your face change as you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. 

When you turn back to him, he can see the beginnings of fear in your gaze. His hand makes its way across the bar of its own accord, squeezing your wrist before tugging you gently towards the nearest barstool. 

“I saw it happen,” he says firmly. “Do you want to sit here with me for a bit?” 

“I don’t…yeah, please.” You look dazed. Understandably dazed, in Sirius’ opinion. You slide onto the stool and slouch to rest your elbows on the bar. “I don’t feel any different. I only had a sip.” 

“It might not be enough to do anything,” he agrees. “I’m not sure, honestly. But it’s probably a good idea for you not to be alone just in case, yeah?” 

You nod hesitantly. Sirius strokes a short line into the inside of your wrist, and when you look up at him those pretty eyes are wet. 

“I’m already drunk,” you say, quietly, your voice on the edge of breaking. “How am I s’posed to know if it’s working?” 

“I’m sure you’d know,” says Sirius, though honestly he’s not very sure of that himself. Guys don’t learn much about these things, not the way girls have to. “You’re alright, darling. We’ll take care of you up here, you’re totally safe. Do you mind if I phone the police?” 

Your eyes widen to glossy saucers, the true gravity of your situation seeming to sink in. 

“It’s just standard procedure,” he adds quickly. 

“Right.” You blink, sniffling. “Um, sure.” 

“Beautiful.” Sirius shoots you a smile. “Be right back. Marl,” he gets his coworker’s attention, “keep an eye on her, yeah?” 

Marlene looks confused and then intrigued as she spots you weeping at the other end of the bar, but she makes her way to you. 

Sirius’ call with the police is brief. They make him regret tossing out your drink before it could be tested, but they tell him to keep you at the bar and they’ll be there soon to question you. When he goes back inside, you look far better than he’d left you, face tearstained but dry and nursing what looks to be a plain coke topped by a mountain of cherries. 

“Blimey, did you ask for extra?” Sirius asks, taking his place in front of you. Marlene, helping a customer at the other end of the bar, shoots him a grimace that lets him know you’ve told her what happened. 

“I asked for a few,” you say, picking one of your cherries up by the stem and popping it in your mouth. “I think she feels bad for me.” 

Sirius laughs. “No, Marlene doesn’t feel bad for anyone. She probably just likes you.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Almost as much as she hates our manager.” He winks at you. “Her latest plot is to rob him blind by way of bar napkins and maraschino cherries. But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Your lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. You draw a line across them, pretending to zip them shut. 

“So,” you say, looking down to fish another cherry from your glass, “did you give the police my regards?”

Sirius smiles at your forehead. “I did. They said it’s been far too long, and they’d like to come here to chat with you themselves.” 

You huff a laugh. “That’s funny, you’d think they’d’ve gotten their fill of me when I was in the nick last week.” 

Sirius laughs, delighted. 

You look up with a wry smile. “Kidding,” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m so disappointed.” He props his chin on his hand, letting his head loll to the side. “And here I was thinking you were a rebel outside the law.” 

You shrug, smile fading as the melancholy turn your night has taken seems to take you under again. “Sorry to lead you astray,” you say anyway. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Sirius studies you. You look understandably worried, a tad wistful too, but still that same sweet girl who’d come up to order from him at the bar. “If you are concerned about the cops catching onto your jailbird alter-ego, I could always stay with you when they get here. If you want company.” 

Your expression melts into gratitude, the fretful line of your brow softening and your eyes filling with relief. They start to go shiny again. “That would be great,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” Sirius reaches across the bar, giving your hand an awkward pat. “Just don’t cry again, please? It kills me a little bit.”

[4ranghaes]

hiii i love ur writing style is rly addictive to the point is genuinely crazy😵... can i request a foursome with sungho, leehan, and taesan at the hot springs? (ifyk the camcordoor japan vlog)

gongfourz x park sungho x reader [fem!reader, smut, reader is in established relationship w/ leehan]

a/n - hiya anon!!!! thank you this is so sweet🥰🥰 and i’m SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG DAMN!!!!!!

warnings - SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!! foursome, kind of a follow on from the gongfourz threesome but can be read alone, fucking but no finishing😭 from TWO different boys!!!!!! cunnilingus, boys kissing, slight degradation, use of nicknames (princess, baby, daddy), slight exhibitionism at the end ? also just a shit ending but whatever

14:03 - “where are they?” sungho sighed.

“he did say they were gonna end up fucking,” taesan scoffed out a laugh, “maybe he wasn’t joking.”

sungho rolled his eyes, groaning, “i’m not waiting for them to finish fucking.”

“why don’t we go check on them then?” taesan hummed, already walking back down the hallway.

“wait–” sungho faltered, “wh-what if they are fucking? we can’t just walk in.”

taesan smirked, shrugging, “i think i’ll be fine.”

sungho furrowed his eyebrows, hurrying after taesan as he pushed open the door to the hot spring room you and leehan were using. suddenly, he stopped in the doorway, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. sungho stopped too, his jaw dropping open upon seeing leehan’s hips snapping against yours as you sat on the table in the middle of the room. your chest was pressed against your boyfriend’s body, your back arched, your legs wrapped around his waist, feet pressing into his lower back, as if pushing him to go faster, deeper.

“we– we should g—” sungho started, taesan grabbing him by the robe before he could finish and pulling them both into the room. leehan glanced over his shoulder, scoffing with a smile.

“come to join us again, taesan-ah?” the boy teased, “knew it wouldn’t be too long.”

sungho looked horrified between the three of you as you giggled at the older man’s innocent expression, “guess you really didn’t tell anyone, hmm, taesan-ie?”

taesan smiled at sungho, slapping his shoulder, “you should taste her, hyung. she’s delicious.”

leehan shrugged, pulling his cock out of you to join the conversation, leaving you whining at the lack of stimulation. “i did always tell you guys, you just didn’t believe me.”

“wh-what is happening?!” sungho exclaimed.

“come on, we all know you’re not that innocent, hyung,” leehan smiled, “don’t you want a go? i’m sure y/n would be more than willing. she thinks you’re quite attractive, actually.”

you buried your face in your boyfriend’s shoulder, shy to be spoken about in this way.

“look at her pretending to be shy,” taesan smiled, walking towards you and pulling leehan away, leaving you completely exposed to the room. he sighed in satisfaction, admiring your body. he placed his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, with a pout he spoke, “princess, your marks have faded. guess we’ll need to top you up, hmm?”

he hummed as he moved towards your body, beginning to kiss, lick, and mark up your neck and collarbones. you rested your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms and legs around his body. you glanced up from taesan’s shoulder, seeing leehan smiling proudly with sungho stood next to him. the older boy was now biting his lip, watching you two intently. you caught his eye, smirking.

taesan’s arms were wrapped around your body, hands trailing down to your ass. your hands moved to untie his robe, letting it pool at his ankles. his cock was already hard and he removed his hands from your ass, placing a hand infront of your mouth. you looked at him confused.

“spit.”

you did as he asked, spitting in the palm of his hand before he spread it over his hard cock, beginning to pump himself. he used his hand to guide himself so his tip was grazing your clit, your body moving to try and get closer subconsciously.

“hey, hey,” leehan spoke, “i know you’re desperate, taesan-ah, but don’t you think sungho should get the first go? he is new, after all.”

sungho began to stutter something out, shaking his head all the while. taesan rolled his eyes, “he’s not gonna be doing anything for a while, look at him!”

“what’s with all this pretend innocence, hyung?” leehan teased, leaving sungho’s side to approach you and taesan once again. taesan bottomed out inside you, his hands grabbing at your hips to pull you forward onto his cock. you moaned out loudly, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders. you looked up at sungho as taesan’s hips started to pump inside you, leehan’s lips finding your neck.

“a-am i dreaming?” sungho asked, still shaking his head.

“why? dream about us often?” you smirked.

taesan tutted, “where’s all this confidence come from, princess? you must really have a crush on sungho hyung, right?”

you blushed, shaking your head. taesan rolled his eyes, pulling your body closer and beginning to snap his hips against yours at an unforgiving pace, his hand going down to circle your clit. your body convulsed, crumbling into his hold. “that’s what i thought,” he spat out, “no talking back.”

you nodded through whines, looking to leehan who smiled, his hand running over your hair as he leaned over to taesan, kissing and biting at his neck. taesan moaned gently at the feeling.

you glanced up at sungho, checking on the uncomfortable party. his hand was covering his hard on under the robe, though you could see very slight movements that showed he was grinding against it slowly. his lip was being chewed by his top teeth, biting back low grunts. his eyes moved from the two boys to you, catching your eyeline as you let out a particularly loud moan. he grunted at the sound.

“h-how long are you gonna be, taesan?” the older man finally spoke up, not taking his eyes off you, “i want that taste now.”

taesan smirked at you, pulling out as you whined, tears forming at your eyes.

“it’s okay, baby,” leehan murmured, kissing all over your face, “you’ll get to cum soon, i promise. but it’s only fair if sungho gets his turn now, right? he’s been waiting so long!”

you nodded quickly, desperate to have any of them do something to you.

“and you love sungho hyung so much, don’t you?” leehan teased as taesan moved to sit on the table behind you, hard cock pressing up against your back, his hands kneading your boobs. sungho approached you with equal nervousness and desire in his eyes.

the truth is, the three of you (or leehan and taesan, in a post-sex conversation one night while you were nodding along in a post-orgasmic haze) had planned this. you knew the four of you would be going to the hot springs while in tokyo, the big deal about being naked was no big deal to the two born in 2004. sungho put an unexpected spanner in the works by speaking enough japanese to ask for two rooms with no problem. but taesan wouldn’t let that stop him, especially when they’d both seen the way you watched sungho’s performance on stage, his solos in the music videos. smiling particularly wide, or even biting your lip - you weren’t very casual.

now, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the older man, horny out of your mind as he approached with a slight smirk. he rested his hand on leehan’s thigh for balance as he leaned down and began eating you like he’d been starved for days. his right hand rested on your waist, beginning with just his mouth; kitten licking your clit before moving down to your hole, sucking and fucking his tongue in and out.

you moaned loudly, before stuttering out some breaths, head flying back to rest on taesan’s shoulder as he and leehan cooed at you.

“does he feel good, baby?” leehan smiled, trailing soft kisses down your neck as taesan was focused on rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“yes!” you gasped, hands flying down to grip sungho’s chestnut locks as filthy slurping sounds filled the room, his right hand joining to fuck into your hole, his mouth focused on your clit.

“c-can i— c-can i–? daddy please,” you panted, moaning.

leehan smirked, stroking the back of sungho’s head, “she’s talking to you, pretty boy. can she cum?”

sungho didn’t take his face out of your heat, just moving his head up and down in agreement, taesan and leehan sharing an entertained look as they all coaxed you through your orgasm.

“just like how you imagined it?” leehan cooed, cupping your jaw as you looked at him with big eyes. sungho had pulled away at this point, kneeling on the floor panting as he stared up at you. you looked down to the man, smiling and placing your hand under his chin, encouraging him to stand up so you could crash your lips against his.

“what the fuck is happening?” he muttered into the kiss as you laughed.

“you had fun, though, hyung, hmm?” taesan teased, meeting sungho’s eyes once you’d pulled away, bringing his hand up to wipe away a string of your spit and your juices on the corner of his lips.

the older man chuckled, giving him a daring look.

“yeah whatever, come to terms with this however you want, i’m fucking her now whether you like it or not,” taesan said, getting off the table once again, shoving you so you were laid down. you giggled at the motion, taesan rolling his eyes while fighting a smirk.

“bad luck, baby,” leehan cooed, stroking his friend’s hair, “it’s time for us to go.”

“what?” sungho panted.

“what? disappointed?” leehan teased, stroking sungho’s face, “time’s up on the room, we need to leave.”

“that’s okay, i prefer the king bed at the hotel anyway,” you shrugged, getting off the table and putting your robe back on before taking your boyfriend’s hand.

“i get dibs!” taesan yelled, following after you, his robe haphazardly being placed back on.

“wait, i have a boner, what the fuck do i do?!” sungho called, following after the group, “taesan! we can’t go out there like this!”

taesan smirked at his friend, pointing to a security camera in the corner of the room before wiping sungho’s wet face with his sleeve, “don’t worry, babe, they’ve seen worse.”

[after-the-end-times]

Sasquatch isn't real and Steve's not a Banshee

Rating: G ◆ Words: 2k ◆ Tags: Established Relationship, Cryptid Road Trip, Banshee Steve Harrington, Human Eddie Munson, Being outed as not human by a friendly cryptid ◆ @steddiebingo Squares - Monster AU/ Road trip /Lake ◆ @stmonstercalendar - Banshee ◆ @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween - Picnic Ao3

“Steeeve!” Eddie sung out, walking into their apartment, finding Steve in the kitchen. “Look what we’re doing this Spring Break!”

“Well, that’s Easter break and the kids are all heading home from college, so Dustin made a whole itinerary of activities and get togeth-”

“Yeah no, we’re not doing any of that. Look at this,” Eddie said, waving something around Steve’s head.

“Stop that.” Steve batted at the cloth Eddie had shoved in his face, yanking it from him. He opened it up to see a dish towel tourist map of all the supposed cryptids that resided in Indiana. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s our Spring Break plans!” Eddie pointed at the different creatures. “It’ll be like a little mini road trip just around the state! It’ll prepare us for this summer’s cross country road trip. And maybe we’ll see something cool or spooky!”

Amusement flooded Steve at seeing Eddie’s openly excited expression. “Fine, but you get to tell Dustin. And don’t get your hopes up about seeing any of them.”

“Yes!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s shoulders, hopping around him. “This is gonna be great! Let’s make some lists!”

Three weeks later, the truck rumbled under them as they set out on the road. The back end filled with coolers and suitcases, Eddie sitting shotgun with a real map, cryptid locations marked by red stars. Eddie had made a list of all the locations he wanted to hit, Steve had planned the most direct route to take, and Dustin gave them both an earful for missing most of his week of plans.

Their first destination lay just a couple hours down the highway. Eddie hoped to see Meshekenabek, The Monster of Lake Manitou. Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t see anything, but it’d still be a fun for him!

“So, you think we’ll see anything?” Eddie asked.

Steve palmed the steering wheel and reached a hand over to rest on Eddie’s thigh. “No, babe. You’re not gonna see anyone- thing. Anything out there. But we can still have a nice picnic and a nap by the lake.”

He tapped Eddie’s thigh, humming along with the song on the radio. He felt eyes on him, flicking a glance over, Eddie was staring at him in contemplation.

“What’cha thinking about so hard over there?”

“You keep doing that.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow toward him, brushing his thumb across his thigh and humming. “I guess, this is where I ask. Doing what?”

Eddie tapped Steve’s hand lightly. “Even while planning, you kept using pronouns for all the cryptids. And then you’d immediately be all shifty or try to laugh it off. So, I guess, this is where I ask. Do you know something I don’t?”

Steve smirked at the perfect set up. “Oh, babe, I know of things beyond your wildest imagination.”

Eddie laughed like Steve knew he would, hopefully distracted enough to move on.

“Steve, come on. We fought literal demon monsters in hell. We know a girl with actual real life powers. If you know that Sasquatch is real, you can tell me. Please tell me Sasquatch is real.” Eddie clasped Steve’s hand between his and held them up under his chin.

Steve knew he was making his eyes all big and wet, beseeching. Eyes Steve can’t help, but to always give into. Good thing he was driving, Steve was saved from the full force of that look. But he could still feel it, his heart and belly trying with all their might to make him look over at Eddie, to just tell him.

“Eddie. Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just because Hawkins happens to be a gateway to hell, doesn’t mean all that other stuff in your books, and dish towel, is real.”

Steve felt Eddie lower their hands to his lap, Eddie flipping it palm up, so he could trace Steve’s life lines. But he didn’t say anything. The sound from the radio filled the cab. It wasn’t tense, but Steve could feel Eddie thinking.

“Ok,” Eddie finally said.

They spent the rest of the drive bopping along to the radio, Eddie reading some paranormal books he’d checked out of the library. They passed through the town of Rochester and followed their map to the lake. They drove through a few neighborhoods until they found a spot to pull over.

Steve dropped the tailgate to slide the cooler to the edge, grabbing out some pops and sandwiches. Eddie grabbed his “Explorer’s Bag” holding a notebook, pens, sketching pencils, disposable camera, and polaroid camera. They walked down to the grassy edge of the lake, picking a spot to plop down. Steve got out their sandwiches, laying them on their baggies, and popped open his drink. Eddie stared out at the lake, waiting.

Steve took a bite of his sandwich. “So, what now? We just wait to for a sea serpent to pop up to say hi?”

“I don’t know, didn’t really think of this part.” Eddie glanced at Steve. “In my head, I guess we’d show up, see something suspicious and, I don’t know, track the clues? Maybe this wasn’t the most thought out plan. Should we just go home after this?”

“At least it’s pretty.” Steve nodded out at the lake. “I don’t mind road tripping just to see some nice spots. Bet a store in town has some touristy stuff we could pick up.”

“Yeah, ok.” Eddie didn’t look pacified, but at least he started eating.

Steve felt a little bad that Eddie wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of the trip, but Steve honestly didn’t mind just driving around the state, spending time with Eddie. They didn’t always get a lot of this kind of alone time, even living together, what with work and activities, Robin and Corroded Coffin.

“I’m gonna go grab the chips, hold down the picnic while I’m gone,” Eddie said, standing to run back to the truck. Steve looked back out over the rippling, blue lake, clouds reflected in its surface. It was so peaceful-

Splash

Steve tensed. It was probably just a fish or a bird landing, it definitely wasn’t-

Splash!

Steve stood, walking over to the lake, making it look like he was just enjoying the view. At the water’s edge, he glanced back to see Eddie hanging over the edge of the truck bed, trying to pull the dry food bag closer.

Steve leaned over the water, speaking low. “I’m not here alone, you need to stay out of sight.”

Splash

Water flicked up at Steve, wetting his clothes, sprinkling his face.

He wiped at his face, glaring. “Thank you for that, but no. I’m not coming in today. You gotta go.”

“Steve?” Steve flinched and turned to see Eddie walking back, hand halfway in the bag.

Flicking one last glare toward the water, Steve smiled back to Eddie. “Saw a bird scooping up a fish, pretty cool to see in person. You ready to head out?”

Eddie tilted his head, confused smile in place. “No? I just got the chips. Thought we were gonna enjoy this a little longer?”

“We could, yeah. Orrrr we could drive into town, see where we could find a key chain or magnet with this mythical monster on it. Maybe find a bathroom before we head out.”

“Ok, but can w-” Eddie’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open, bag of chips spilling to the ground.

Steve dropped his head in defeat. He knew what Eddie saw rising behind him.

“Steve,” Eddie whispered, eyes still locked behind him. “Walk toward me, baby. Slowly. There’s- there’s a- The Monster of-”

Splash!

Water drenched the back of Steve, droplets making it to Eddie. Steve sighed deeply and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “Yeah, uh, he doesn’t like being called that.”

Eddie’s wide eyed gaze moved to Steve. Steve held out his hand, wiggling his fingers like he always does when he wants Eddie to hold his hand. “It’s ok, I want you to meet someone.”

Eddie walked slowly toward him, eyes flicking between him and the large serpent at his back, until his hand was firmly within Steve’s. He tipped his head toward Steve, lowering his voice. “I know it’s the wrong time to say this, but I knew you were lying and keeping information to yourself. Now, is it- splash -he nice? Obviously, he can understand me.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yes, he’s very friendly. Kinda the problem, actually.” Steve pulled him around so they both faced the creature.

“Eddie, I’d like you to meet Kevin of Lake Manitou. Kevin, this is my partner, Eddie.”

Kevin swam across the water toward them. Eddie jerked, stepping in close to Steve’s side, squeezing his hand tight. Steve swept a thumb over Eddie’s knuckles to reassure him, though he still glanced worriedly over at Steve.

Steve crouched at the edge of grass and water, pulling Eddie down with him. “Put your hand out. Like this.”

Eddie followed his lead, reaching out the hand not held tight by Steve over the water. Kevin came close, slipping smoothly up and out of the water to brush his head across Steve’s hand first and then Eddie’s.

Steve heard a tiny gasp from Eddie and looked over. Eddie was grinning, relief coursed through Steve as he watched Eddie petting Kevin’s head, flipping his hand under to scritch his chin.

“If you want, you can get take a polaroid. You can never show it to anyone, but you can take it.”

Eddie’s head snapped over to look at him. “You trust me with a photo? What if-”

“Eddie. ‘Course I trust you. I mean, maybe we wait to tell the kids til they’re older, but yeah. It’s just, I couldn’t tell you because it’s my duty to protect them all; from curious people, from hunters, from developers. It’s been my family’s job for generations going back hundreds of years.”

“So, what, you get to protect them ‘cause you’re, like, the only humans who know about them?”

“Uh, no.” Kevin lifted out of the water, resting his big head on Steve’s knees, offering support, Steve pet him slowly. He looked Eddie in the eye. “We’re, uh, we’re not exactly...completely...human.”

Eddie blinked at him, opening his mouth a few times before closing it. “You’re, uh, you’re- what?”

Steve ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. My mom’s a Banshee, her whole side of the family is. My dad’s a human, though. Banshees are kinda, like, a warning system in our world. I don’t have all of Mom’s abilities, but I can still sense when something’s vaguely wrong or someone’s on the verge of death.”

Looking up, Steve wasn’t sure Eddie was breathing anymore. “You ok?”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped backing into focus on Steve’s face. “This makes so much sense. All those times- And you knew in the Upside Down- Wow. Ok. Yeah, ok. But-” Eddie’s face fell, suddenly sad and worried.

“Eddie?”

“You said this has been your family’s duty, passed down for generations, but if we’re- You’ll need to, you know- I can’t give you- ugh.” he pulled a hand down his face.

Steve reached out, stopping him from shoving his hand into his hair to pull at it in frustration. “Eddie. I have cousins, it’s fine. Or we can find a surrogate. Robin’s kinda offered; though she said not until she’s established in her career. So, we have time. But...you’re fine? With the whole, you know, not human thing?”

Eddie tilted his head in confusion, before oh-ing in understanding.

“Honey,” he said, a wide smile overtaking his face, “I’ve loved you for four years now; you think a little thing like ‘not being completely human’ is going to change that? Not on your life, baby. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Steve’s cheeks hurt from how wide he smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

Eddie glanced down at Kevin, reaching over to scritch between his eyes, he suddenly gasped. “Wait! Does this mean Sasquatch really is real?!”

Based on this dish towel

[writingsbytee]

SURPRISE! - TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM (AFAB) READER

WARNINGS: 18+ ; angst; fluff; SMUT; minors do not interact!

PAIRING: Terry x Gwen (reader)

SUMMARY: You and Terry have been broken up for 3 months. You’re injured in an accident and the hospital calls Terry to notify him and… surprise

TROPES: second chance; 

WORD COUNT: 4,074

“Ms. Daniels, please wake up”, a gentle voice eases me back into consciousness. My head feels like it’s being split open with a claw hammer. I blink slowly so that my eyes can adjust. 

When my eyes finally focus I look up to see a pretty lady in scrubs looking down kindly at me. 

“Welcome back Ms. Daniels. You had us scared there for a moment,” she says.

“What hospital am I in? What happened?” I say sitting up and holding my head. 

“You’re at Benson Memorial. You were in a bicycle accident. You’re fine just a few bumps and bruises. Your head CT was clear, so nothing to worry about there, ” she says handing me a cup of water. 

I take slow small sips as I try to recall the past few hours.  I never even saw that car coming as I crossed the road from one trail to the next. I hear muffled shouting coming from outside my room, and the doctor shoots a nervous glance my way. 

“Ms. Daniels, your boyfriend is outside and I don’t know how much longer he can wait”

I nearly choke on my water, “Boyfriend?”

I hear a commotion outside my door before the doctor/ nurse can open her mouth. 

“Nah, I’ve been here for two fucking hours and no one has told me how she’s doing yet! I’m going to see my girlfriend if you want to throw me out after then throw me out!”

I’ll never forget that voice. Terry is here. Now. He bursts into my room looking as good as ever but incredibly worried. When his eyes land on mine his shoulders sag with relief and he rushes to my side.

“What happened?! How bad are you hurt? Were you wearing your helmet?” He asks, his mouth running a mile a minute. I must be dreaming there’s no way Terry’s here we broke up 3 months ago after he came back from Shelby Springs. 

He came back different after trying to bail his cousin Mike out of jail. I tried to be there for him and provide all the support he needed but he just pushed me away. When I found out that he had been helping a girl named Summer, he completely shut down and wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to give him an ultimatum so I told him that when he figured everything out to come and find me. Two weeks later I got a letter that absolutely broke me. 

“Why did they call you?” I asked looking at my doctor.

“He’s listed as the primary on your emergency contact list we have on file here”, she said motioning someone else in scrubs to come in. Another woman comes in holding an ultrasound machine and my heart stops.

“Is my baby ok?!” I ask immediately grasping at my stomach. 

“That’s why I needed to wake you. Ms. Daniels, we need your consent to do a transvaginal ultrasound so we can evaluate the status of your baby”, the doctor says remaining calm. 

I nod, “Of course, please do what you need to do”.

There’s a deep sigh to my right. I almost forgot that Terry was next to me. When I glance over at him he looks shocked and heartbroken. 

“I’m sorry I know I should’ve told you but you sent that letter the day I took the test and I didn’t know what to do”, I said right before the waterworks started, courtesy of your pregnancy hormones. Terry just looked at me his eyes softening but his trademark frown was still there. 

“Can you give us a minute please?” Terry asks the doctor.

She nods, “We’ll be right outside tap the door twice. We need to get this ultrasound done so the faster the better you two.” Then she’s out the door.

“So the baby’s mine?” Terry asks.

I nod my head, a fresh wave of tears coming. 

“I never meant to keep from you this long but you weren’t returning my calls and I couldn’t reach you. You didn’t leave a return address on the letters you sent, which ripped me apart by the way, and you just fell off the face of the earth Terry! I mean come the fuck on! I’m in love with you and finding out I’m having your baby just for you to dump us over a fucking letter!”, I’m out of breath, my chest heaving with anger.

He opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off, “We don’t have the time to get into this now. We’ll talk later now please let the doctor in, I need this baby to be ok”, I say my eyes burning with unshed tears. Jesus everything makes me so emotional now, well let’s be real it wasn’t that different before I got pregnant. Terry looks at me, his eyes softening to that doe-eyed steel gray.

“Sure thing princess,” he says with a small smirk. Terry gets up and I bite my lip at the way his ass looks in his khakis. Has he gotten finer since I last saw him? He taps the door twice and almost immediately the nurse is back in the door, the doctor following in shortly after.  They set up all the equipment, I put my feet in the stirrups, and the doctor began her exam. 

“Aaaaand that is your baby’s heartbeat!”, the doctor says as she points to the disfigured blob that’s my baby.

“Terry look!” I say as I point my finger toward the screen. 

I turn my head to the right and I see a small smile on Terry’s face.

“That’s our baby?” he says all choked up. Two small tears fall out of each eye as he looks down at me. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” I say reaching for Terry’s hand.

He grabs it and says, “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Home? Like my home or he’s just taking me to my house and that’s my home. 

“How did the hospital even get in touch with you?”, I ask as Terry drives us home. 

“I just got a new phone, same number,” he says eyes focused on the road.

“Oh, ok,” I say folding my arms across my chest.

“I already know what you’re thinking. I was going to call you, but a lot of what I have to say shouldn’t be said over the phone. I want a chance to explain myself. I never should’ve ended things the way I did. You deserve so much better than what I gave you and I can’t be any more clear when I say I’m so sorry. I fucked up.” 

“Ok when we get home I want to know everything”, I say gently. Terry looks my way and nods twice before looking back at the road. 

“Yeah, can I get two double cheeseburgers all the way with cajun fries please?” Terry says to the ‘five guys’ employee.

“Aww, you remember my order?” I say my face softening. 

“It’s been three months. Not three years. I didn’t forget baby” Terry huffed looking at me with that sexy-ass side-eye. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m supposed to be mad at you,” I say rolling my eyes. There’s no way this man has me in the palm of his hand in an hour and a half. I need to stand the fuck up. Terry grabs our food when they call our number and escorts us out of the restaurant.

He chuckles as we get back in the car and says, “Oh it’ll come back to you I’m sure.” I roll my eyes, looking at the scenery passing by. 

“You said ‘I can’t do this anymore Gwen. It’s not you it’s me.’ Terry, you have no fucking idea how much that hurt. How insignificant it made me feel. Like I wasn’t even good enough to break up in person so you use a fucking letter?” These pregnancy hormones are no joke I was thinking about mounting this man and now I’m going off on him. 

“Babygirl I’m so sorry. Please, when we get home I’ll finally be able to explain myself. Please don’t cry, baby I never meant to hurt you the way that I did. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I made my peace with this a long time ago Terry. Some people just aren’t meant to be together,” my voice breaks as I try to keep my emotions at bay. 

“I wanted us to work so bad I would’ve done anything to keep you, but I won’t do that anymore. I’m worth more than that. Our baby is worth more than that. I won’t have them question my love for them I’m going to show up for them every day because that’s what a mother does,” I take a few deep breaths to try and compose myself, but I can feel the dam start to break. I look over at Terry and he has a deep frown on his face. He’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and I can tell by his posture that he’s trying to keep his cool.

I unlock my front door to let Terry and myself in. He follows silently behind me. I can feel the tension radiating off him. Despite how he feels right now he still pulls out everything I need to eat and sets my place at the table. I wait for him to join me before I start eating. We eat in a tense, awkward silence before he breaks the spell of uncertainty around us.

“Mike’s dead.” I didn’t have to look up to see the pain on Terry’s face. The burning behind my eyes is instant.

“What do you mean dead? You were going to bail him out?!” I reached for my necklace. It’s a locket, Terry gave me after our first anniversary. A small heart-shaped photo of us sits inches from my heart every day. Terry took a deep breath before he went into detail. About Shelby Springs and its corrupt law system. How he almost died on multiple occasions. Who Summer was and how he couldn’t leave her fate in their corrupt hands. 

“I couldn’t leave until I knew I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. I couldn’t involve you and potentially put you at risk. I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt, especially knowing what I know now,” the guilt evident in Terry’s voice as he buried his head in his hands. 

I feel the warmth of the tears as they glide down my face. My hand comes up to cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I rush to Terry’s side, wrapping my arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry Terry! You shouldn’t have had to deal with this all on your own. What can I do?” 

This whole situation is miscommunication at its finest. I grab Terry’s hand and lead him back to the room we used to share.

“I didn’t bring you back here to have sex. Take your shoes and shirt off and get on the bed.” I say kicking my shoes off. I crawl to the head of the bed and make myself comfortable before making grabby hands at Terry.  He crawled his way up the bed before laying his head on my stomach. I started giving him a scalp massage as he loaded everything he’d gone through while we were apart. When he finished we were both a mess. Terry lifts his head and my heart breaks at his expression. 

“I never wanted any of this. All I tried to do was save my cousin and instead, I lost him. I lost you, our baby. I’m alone now.”

I’m shaking my head before he can finish his sentence, “You didn’t lose Mike. In the physical sense yes but, he’s always with you Terry. I know it’s easier said than done, but you can put this behind you and move on. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this.”

“Together?” he looks like a scared sad little boy and it breaks my heart. I reach my hand down and caress his face. 

“Together Terry, all three of us,” you say as a fresh wave of tears begins. You were going to dehydrate at this rate with all the crying.

“Come on, we’ve had a busy day and I think a shower would do us some good,” you say sitting up. Terry sits up and scoots to the foot of the bed. I look at him and really notice how tired he looks. Like the weight of the world is sitting on his shoulders.

I make my way towards him and kiss his cheek, “Come on, your clothes are right where you left them. I’ll be in the bathroom when you’re ready.”

I grab one of Terry’s old ‘Marine’ t-shirts and boy shorts and head into the bathroom. I can’t believe this shit, no way this is real life. Poor Mike, poor Terry, and even poor Summer. 

I’m in the shower washing the dirt and leaves out of my hair when I hear the bathroom door open. I keep quiet continuing to wash my hair waiting for Terry to join me. I feel the cool air as he opens the shower door and steps inside. His arms wrap around my waist from behind and he rests his head on my shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry Gwen. You’re not unlovable. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I couldn’t come back unless I knew you were safe. I’ll be making this right for the rest of my life to you and our little bean,” Terry says as his hand migrates to my stomach. 

I turn in his arms wrapping my hands around his neck, “I’m not going to pretend that I’m ok with how you did everything but, I understand. I forgive you, Terry.  I did as soon as you burst through the hospital door,” I finish with a chuckle. 

Terry grips my face in his hands, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you and the baby how sorry I am. I wasn’t there when you found out and you have no idea how bad I wish I were. Every doctor’s appointment I’m there, you’ll never feel how you felt when you got that letter, Gwen. That’s a promise.” Terry’s eyes have that fierce determination in them. You know when he gets that way there’s no stopping him.

“Stop crying baby, I hate seeing you so upset,” Terry’s using his thumbs to wipe my tears. 

I shake my head, a watery laugh leaving my lips, “It’s hormones more than anything.” My eyes widen as Terry drops to his knees in the shower. His hands wrap around my hips. He presses his forehead to my belly and kisses the barely-there baby bump.

“Hey there little one. I’m your dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to find out about you. I’m here now. Daddy’s not going anywhere.” 

I could barely see Terry over the tears in my eyes. A watery smile forms on my lips when Terry lifts his head to look at me.

“What is it, baby?” he asks.

“Kiss me,” I say pulling him up to meet me.

Terry towers over me pressing my back against the shower wall—nothing but steam and unspoken confessions hanging in the air. 

“Are you sure, princess? I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for”, Terry’s face takes on that deep frown that’s so attractive to me.

“I’m sure Terry. You’re still in the doghouse but, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you and I want us to be a family, so yes please kiss me.”

When Terry kisses me it’s like the world stops. An involuntary moan leaves my lips. It’s like we have all the time in the world. He kisses me slowly, deeply, all-consuming. 

“I forgot how good your lips feel, princess.” Terry’s eyes darken in color and I can almost read his mind. 

“I’m going to kiss you again ok?”, a small smirk makes its way onto his face as he crowds my space. 

“You’re not leaving any room for Jesus are you?” I ask chuckling.

“There’s been too much space between us the past three months. Prepare to be sick of me, baby girl.” Terry’s voice drops an octave and I can feel my ovaries crying. His hand glides down my front pausing over my barely-there baby bump.

“We’re going to be great parents,” I reach my hand for Terry’s face caressing his cheek. 

He smiles that megawatt smile of his and nods, “Without a doubt.” And then he kisses me again.  We’re a mess of lips, tongues, and teeth. My pregnancy hormones have me grinding against Terry’s leg like a dog in heat. 

“You missed Daddy huh?”, he asks placing his thigh in between my legs. He grabs my hips and slides me up and down the length of his thigh. The friction on my neglected clit is out of this world as I release a needy moan. 

“I can’t hear you. Do I need to stop?” Terry grips my hips forcing me to stop.

“No, no, no I miss you, Daddy! I do. Please don’t stop. I need this,” I grip his shoulders, leaving little crescent indents.

“Look at me, sweet girl. Tell Daddy what you want,” Terry says gripping my chin and lifting it to meet his eyes. 

I can barely put two words together and he wants me to tell him what I want. 

“I love it when your eyes get all dopey like this, you want Daddy inside you?” Terry’s lapping at my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I’ll have a time with my concealer in the morning but that’s not my concern at the moment. I reach for his wrist, bringing his hand down to my pussy, right where I want him. 

“Please Daddy I need you. I need this please,” my voice taking on a whiny pitch. Next thing I know the water’s being shut off and Terry’s opening the shower door. 

“There are things I want to do to you that can’t be done in the shower. Come on,” Terry says while wrapping me up in a towel before leading me out of the bathroom. 

“Ugh! Daddy don’t stop please!” My legs won’t stop shaking as Terry sucks the soul out of me. I lost count of how many times I’ve come already. I look down at Terry while he’s devouring my pussy. The sounds in this room are purely pornographic. 

He looks up at me through hooded eyes and moans the sound vibrating against my clit. 

“Ouuu Daddy yes!! Right there! Don’t stop!”, I’m a panting mess. I look down at Terry again and all I see are the whites of his eyes. 

“I forgot how good you taste baby. I can’t get enough mm!” You’d think Terry never ate a day in his life the way he’s eating me out.

“Terry I… I need you!” I squeal pushing his head away.  

He releases my clit with a small pop before sitting up on his knees. His eyes narrowed, “Now I’ll let you have that one ‘cause it’s been so long. Don’t do that shit again. I’ll finish eating when I finish. Understand?” Terry has my face in a vice-grip, my lips puckered.

“Yes Daddy,” I say, willing to do whatever he asks as long as he gives me that dick. I’d probably go rob a bank if he asked. 

“On your side, princess,” Terry says as he places a few pillows behind me.

I turn on my side and Terry’s right behind me kissing any skin he can get his hands on. 

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed your smell, your taste, your smile, your laugh, and even when you roll your eyes. Even though you know that’s five lashes automatically,” Terry says peppering my whole body in kisses. 

“I missed you too Daddy. Now are you going to show me how much, or do I have to get started without you?” I tease him by running my hands down my body. Terry playfully smacks my hands away before lifting my leg and sliding into me. 

We moan simultaneously as Terry starts to move, “Oh god! I forgot how big you are!” I moan as Terry bottoms out.  

My head falls back onto Terry’s shoulder, “I’m not going to last!” I squeal the burning already starting in my lower belly. It feels so good from this angle, Terry keeps hitting my g-spot with every thrust. 

“Come whenever you want baby. Daddy’s got you,” Terry breathes into my ear. The neighbors can probably hear squelching and moaning coming from my room but I really don’t give a fuck. If their man was digging their shit out like Terry was doing to me, they’d be screaming too. 

“No! Come with me please! I need it baby!” I moan trying to plant a kiss somewhere on Terry. He sees me struggling and bends his head to kiss me. He grabs my neck with one of is free hands, not hard enough to do harm but, just enough to give me that much more pleasure. 

“Open,” he says stilling inside me. I lean my head back a little farther, opening my mouth. Terry smiles deviously like the freaky devil he is and I watched dazed as a small glob of spit makes its way from his mouth to mine.

“Now swallow,” I do as he asks and open my mouth to show him it’s all gone.  

“Jesus, woman you’re going to kill me! Fucking love how nasty you get for me. Daddy’s little slut,” Terry groans. He slides out of me and I flop onto my back. 

“Come to mama,” I say grabbing his face and pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. I reach for his dick, wrapping my hands around it, and I feel him shudder. Terry moans as I give him a few slow strokes. 

“Get back inside me please. I need to come,” I wine.

“Again? Who made you so needy?” Terry asks smirking down at me. 

“You going to keep talking shit or remind me of how I got pregnant in the first place?” I ask. 

Terry grabs my throat almost instantly, “Who you think you’re talking to?”

He brings one of my legs up to his shoulder and I roll my eyes. Terry’s face darkens, as he bottoms out inside me for the second time.

“I told you I was going to let that shit slide. Now you pushing it,” he said as he begins to thrust. I’m grasping at air, that’s how good his dick is. 

“Aww look at you, getting fucked stupid. How’s it feel princess?” Terry taunts grabbing one of my hands interlocking our fingers. If I could talk I probably say something smart, but Terry’s right he’s fucking me stupid. I can’t put a single sentence together. 

“Huh what was that? Daddy can’t hear you.” A particularly hard thrust has me screaming, my orgasm hitting me out of nowhere. I feel myself soak the sheet and Terry, but I can barely keep my eyes open. My nails drag down his back, marking him up.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming, kiss me,” Terry moans. 

I grab the back of his neck, bringing his face to mine, but before our lips meet I whisper a quiet ‘I love you’. Our lips meet and we both moan as Terry fills me up. He stays inside me as I remove my leg from his shoulder. Both of us panting and staring at each other with awestruck goofy smiles. We have some work to do, but I can’t wait to see what this next chapter has in store for us.

THE END.

Annnnd that’s a wrap!! As always constructive criticism is appreciated but please be nice ‘cause I’m sensitive. I feel like I'm so bad at writing sex scenes, but I'm trying to get better. I really had fun writing this one. I anyone has any request DM me or ask anonymously. Until next time my little freaks <3

TAGLIST:

@blackgurlnhermoods

@dxddykenn

@kianaleani

@pinkkycherrish

@shallipii

@greatpandagladiator

@skyesthebomb

@theereina

Divider from: @puppizai

[lunette-png]

Waves of Ithaca

Prologue

The halls of the Ithaca Palace glimmered under the morning light, with the sun giving warmth to its bricks. A soft echo of laughter fills the open courtyard, belonging to a child- so high and bright. A little girl, no older than three, dashes across the stone floors barefooted. Her hair bouncing wildly as she ran.

"Come here, my little naiad!” Odysseus called out, as he catched her before swooping down to lift his daughter into his arms. She squealed as he spun her around, her small fingers gripping his tunic.

“Father!” she cried between giggles. “Put me down!”. Odysseus only laughed, holding her close. "Not until you promise me you won’t run away from your old father so fast next time.” This only makes her giggle more, as she jokingly pushes her father's face away.

Penelope approached, watching them with a quiet smile. She was young still, her beauty unwearied by time, her gentle hands carrying a wreath of woven olive leaves. “Our daughter is swift as the sea breeze,” she mused. “Perhaps Poseidon himself blessed her feet.”

At those words, Odysseus’ eyes twinkled with mischief. “Shall we ask him?” He carried the child to the courtyard’s sacred spring, where the clear water bubbled up from the earth, a gift from the gods. Kneeling, he placed his daughter’s tiny feet upon the cool stones, letting her toes dip into the water. Her (e/c) eyes looks on in confusion before turning to her father, anticipating what will happen next.

“Lord of the sea,” Odysseus murmured, his voice half-serious, half-playful, “if you have given my daughter the swiftness of the waves, grant her safe passage through life’s storms, that she may never be lost to the tide.”

Soon the wind stirred around them, accompanied by the rustling of the olive trees. The water rippled unnaturally, curling around the child’s feet like an embrace. She looked up, her wide eyes reflecting the golden sky, unafraid.

“Did you see that, Mother?” she whispered, her voice filled with a wonderous curiosity.

Penelope knelt beside them, touching her daughter’s damp foot. “Poseidon listens,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The young princess looks back at her feet beneath the water. She did not know what it meant to be blessed by a god—but she felt something stir in her chest, something powerful.

Odysseus placed a hand over small head. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

She nodded. “It feels like the sea is inside me.”

He smiled. “Good.”

A year has passed since that day. During one evening, Odysseus sat beside his daughter in the megaron, the great hall where the fire burned low. Humming an old sailor's tune, with his daughter humming along. It would soon be broken by a question.

“Father?” she asked sleepily. “Why has Mother’s belly grown round?”

Odysseus chuckled. “Because you’re going to have a little brother, my little naiad.”

The girl’s face lit up with curiosity, the drowsiness she felt has dissipated. “A brother?”

“Yes.” He brushed a stray curl from her forehead. “A small, wailing thing, but we’ll love him all the same.”, he added with a soft chuckle.

She considered this, pursing her lips. “Will he be strong?”

“That will depend on the heart he carries.”

“Will he love the sea like you and I?”

Odysseus smiled. “Perhaps. But he will need someone to teach him—someone swift as the waves, clever as the gulls.”

She sat up proudly. “I’ll teach him.”, she proudly declared with her eyes lit with determination.

Penelope, reclining nearby, watched them with a hand resting on her belly. “Then he shall be lucky indeed,” she murmured, eyes glistening in the firelight.

Telemachus was only weeks old when Odysseus carried him to the sacred grove of Athena, basking in the golden light of late afternoon, the old olive trees swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of earth and sea salt combined, filling the air- the very essence of Ithaca. Odysseus walked ahead, his newborn son cradled in his arms, swaddled in soft linen. Beside him, Penelope held their daughter’s small hand, guiding her carefully over the roots that curled up from the ground.

“Are we really going to meet the goddess?” the little girl whispered, peering up at her mother.

Penelope smiled. “Not quite, my love. But this is her place, and your father wants to introduce your brother to her.”

“She is my guide, my shield in battle, and she will watch over him too.” Odysseus adds, the infant cradled in his arms.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she clutched her mother’s hand a little tighter.

When they reached the heart of the grove, the great olive tree standing tall above them, Athena was there, just as they had known she would be. She was a figure of calm, her presence as natural as the wind, her grey eyes bright with warmth. The goddess looked behind, her composure as stoic and tall as ever, but there was a flicker of softness once her eyes landed on the infant that Odysseus carried.

She smiled softly as Odysseus approached, still holding the swaddled infant close to his chest. No words were spoken, only the sound of rustling leaves and the faint movement of the waves, as she walked closer to the father and son.

The goddess bent down to meet the infant's gaze, her grey eyes softening. Telemachus slowly blinked up at her, and with a delicate movement, his tiny fingers curled around Athena’s outstretched hand. A gentle, almost unnoticeable wave of energy passed between them, a moment of silent understanding shared.

"He's a strong one," Athena said, her voice breaks the silence. “I can see it already.”

Odysseus grinned, ruffling his son's head. “I’m counting on you to guide him when the time comes, just as you’ve guided me.”

Athena chuckled, standing tall once more. “He’ll need more than guidance. He’ll need heart, and that I can see he has. You and Penelope did well.”

Odysseus smiled, pressing a hand to his son’s small chest. “He will be watched over.”

As he bid his farewell to the goddess, his daughter reached out, her tiny fingers brushing against her brother’s. “I will watch over him too,” she vowed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Odysseus looked at her, pride swelling in his chest. He placed a hand on her head, feeling the warmth of her presence, along with the weight of her promise.

“You will, my daughter,” he said. “And he will be all the stronger for it.”

The trees swayed gently, and far above them, the owl of Athena watched.

The harbor of Ithaca was alive with movement—sailors loading supplies, warriors sharpening blades, banners snapping in the wind. Odysseus stood at the bow of his ship, dressed in bronze armor, his sword fastened at his side.

On the shore, Penelope stood tall, her face calm yet the sorrow in her eyes spoke differently. Their daughter clung to the hem of her mother’s robe, her hands curled into fists.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Odysseus knelt before her, his heart aching. “I must, little one. There is a war to fight.”

“But what if you don’t come back?”

"I promise I will, but until then, you have to be strong. Can you do that, my little naiad?", he reassured her.

Tears soon welled in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She straightened her back, just as he had taught her. “I will be strong,” she promised, her voice though still shaky- is more stern than before.

He smiled. “I know you will." , before he leaned down to leave a kiss on her forehead.

As he stepped onto the ship, he looked back one last time—at his wife, his son in her arms, and his daughter standing beside her, the sea breeze lifting her hair.

And then, with the wind at his back, he sailed away.

AN: i finally locked in for this one. can you spot my daddy and mommy issues? :"DD i still don't know where i am going with this story, and who the love interest will be- but we'll get there eventually. the part where odysseus introduces telemachus is inspired by gigi's animatic!

[meazalykov]

expect the unexpected

crush!vivianne miedema x reader prologue (lynn wilms x reader series)

this is the prologue to a new series coming february 1st.

the chill of an early spring evening seeps into your jacket as you step into the cozy apartment vivianne shares with beth.

the warm lighting and faint scent of coffee create a comforting contrast to the cold tension that’s been suffocating you at arsenal. 

tonight is supposed to be a break. this is a chance to escape the drama that seems to cling to jonas’s shadow.

you clutch a cup of tea vivianne made for you, settling onto the couch next to gio, who’s scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. 

beth is in the kitchen, joking with vivianne as they finish up the snacks for the night.

“you look dead,” gio remarks, glancing at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite hide the concern in her eyes.

you shrug, sipping the tea and letting its warmth anchor you. 

“long week.”

“jonas again?” she asks knowingly, and you nod, not trusting your voice to not say anything respectful. 

vivianne enters the room, setting a bowl of popcorn on the table. 

“what did he do this time?” she asks, her tone edged with frustration as she sits down across from you. 

you hesitate. it feels like every time you bring it up, you’re just adding to a pile of grievances too heavy to carry anymore. “same thing he always does. benched me for no reason, made some comment to kim about how i ‘don’t fit the system.’” the words come out bitter, and you hate how small they make you feel.

vivianne leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

“he’s an idiot.”

you look at her, gratitude mixed with something heavier—a yearning you can’t shake. viv’s expression is kind, steady, and unchanging. she sees you as a friend. a teammate. nothing more.

gio knows your liking for viv, lighting frowning with sympathy as your eyes twinkle at the dutch woman. 

“thanks, viv,” you mumble, looking over to stare at the steam rising from your tea.

“he’s lucky i’m leaving,” gio interjects, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. the statement hangs in the air for a moment before anyone responds.

“wait,” beth says, stepping out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies. 

“what do you mean, leaving? like, leaving on loan again?”

gio shakes her head, her jaw tightening. 

“no. for good this time. i told my agent i’m done with arsenal. atletico madrid’s interested, and honestly? i think i need to go back. jonas is draining the joy out of football for me.”

the room falls silent. beth sets the plate down, her expression softening. 

“gio…”

“i’ve thought about it for a while,” gio continues, her voice firmer now. 

“i can’t stay here and keep pretending like everything’s fine. i want to love the game again, and that’s not going to happen under jonas.”

vivianne nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. 

“i get it. i’ve been feeling the same way.”

you look up sharply. 

“wait, what?”

vivianne sighs, running a hand through her hair. 

“arsenal’s not renewing my contract. i found out last week. honestly, i’m upset about it but my nervous system is relieved. i need a change if he is going to stay there.”

“where are you going?” gio asks, her brows furrowed.

vivianne glances at beth, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“probably manchester city. it’s the most appealing option right now.”

you force yourself to smile, even as something twists painfully in your chest. of course. city. beth. you’ve always known vivianne had something serious with beth—everyone did—but hearing it out loud still stings.

“that’s... that’s great,” you manage, your voice steady enough to hide the ache. 

“you deserve to be somewhere you’re happy.”

“thanks,” vivianne says, her smile widening slightly. 

“and hey, if you end up staying in the wsl, we’ll still see each other plenty.”

you swallow hard and nod, but you don’t respond. 

you’re not staying. not here, not in the wsl, not under jonas.

beth sits down beside vivianne, her arm brushing against hers. “well, i’m not going anywhere,” she says lightly, though there’s a trace of tension in her voice. 

“at least not yet. i figure jonas won’t last forever, and i want to be here when he’s gone.”

gio snorts. 

“good luck with that.”

you take a deep breath, setting your tea on the table. “arsenal’s not renewing my contract either.” the words feel heavy, final, but there’s a strange relief in saying them out loud.

beth’s eyes widen. “what? since when?”

“my agent called me about it last month,” you admit. 

“i haven’t told anyone until now.”

vivianne leans back, studying you carefully. 

“are you staying in the wsl?”

you shake your head.

“no.”

“so, did barcelona finally knocked on your door?” vivianne jokes, a playful smirk on her face. 

“sorry– i mean, you’ve only been obsessed with them since forever.”

you laugh, the sound more bitter than you intended. 

“no, not barcelona. it’s... it might be the bundesliga. wolfsburg, specifically.”

vivianne’s expression softens. 

“that’s a good move. wolfsburg’s a great club, and i know a lot of people there. i can introduce you to some friends to help you settle in.”

“that would mean a lot,” you say, your voice quieter now. the idea of leaving everything you’ve known is daunting, but her support makes it feel a little less terrifying.

“wolfsburg suits you,” gio adds. 

“they’re lucky to have you.”

“thanks,” you reply to your bestfriend, though your mind drifts to what it will mean to leave—leave arsenal, leave the wsl, leave both gio and vivianne.

the four of you sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken settling over the room. it’s beth who breaks it, her voice soft but resolute. 

“we’ve been through so much together here. it’s hard to imagine us all going our separate ways.”

“yeah,” vivianne agrees, her gaze distant. “at least i will still be here with you but its a same difference. a fresh start.”

“it’s just... sad,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“arsenal was supposed to be an amazing team, you know? but now it feels like i have to leave if i ever want to feel happy again.”

vivianne reaches out, squeezing your upper arm. 

“you’ll find that happiness again. i know you will.”

you look at her, and for a moment, you let yourself believe her. maybe wolfsburg will be the fresh start you need. 

maybe leaving vivianne will help you finally let go of feelings that were never meant to be with her.

“to moving on,” gio says, raising her glass of soda in a mock toast.

“to moving on,” the rest of you echo, clinking your glasses together. and in that moment, surrounded by your teammates, you start to believe that leaving isn’t the end.. it’s the beginning of something new.

series coming 2/1

[starshipsofstarlord]

locked away

summary. whilst hiding out from walkers in a closet, you grow extremely bored. the only thing to do is daryl, but you have to make sure he stays quiet

warnings. smut, handjob, sub!daryl, dom!reader, praising, mentions of gagging, crying

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The aroma of cigarette smoke that clung addictively to his clothes filled your nostrils as you hid in union together, avoiding the stream of deadly walkers that marched in their haphazard staggering through the wide hallway. There had been worse that you survived through, so as long as you didn’t alert the parasites that filled the decayed human bodies of your presence, you would be fine.

Boredom struck you after the first hour of leaning all of your weight against the chipped brick wall, listening without consent to the groans and growls of the dangerous passers-by. If you had a nickel for each time you expressively rolled your eyes that had adjusted to the shadows which conjured a graphite colouring to which you could see, you would be astoundingly rich in a world without cash currency.

You had an impulse to blabber out the most random thoughts that appeared intrusively in your mind, although you were sure if you dared to your beloved Daryl would gag your mouth with that dirty red rag and tell you to shut up; and it wouldn’t be a first time for that. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly as the pressing circumstances of the long and drawn out waiting game refused to come to an end.

How many goddamn walkers were out there? Actually that was an answer you’d rather not find out whilst you were contained in a narrow closet which was consumed with lacklustre silence. Daryl wouldn’t even meet your eyes in the dark space, sternly pent up from your antics during the run that had lead you into being entrapped by your own free will and vigilance to live another day. He was pissed, and worst of all in this circumstance; turned on.

His pools of pitiful blue distinctly avoided your gaze, trying his darnest to focus on the stakes that were against you both. But he was pursued by a cloaking of consuming lust, his shoulders rigid as he thought repeatedly of your earlier words. If you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll have some fun before we get home. It wasn’t likely to happen now, the bowman thought intuitively, sharply discarding the sweet images of pleasing you from his brain.

These walkers were preying risk to more than just his life, he felt like he could explode from the overbearing desire to feel your hands rake upon his entire body, and he mentally cursed as he felt his cock spring to life at just the the sinful thought. He grunted in solitary longing, pacing with light and feline like steps as much as he could in the limited ground that was cemented in the storage room.

“Something wrong?” You almost inaudibly spoke, cocking your head as the corners of your mouth twitched in mocking amusement, and he would have whined in response if there wasn’t the threat of the passing walkers merely inches away. “Come here, let me help you baby.” His head was lowered in a submissive bow as he followed your command, creeping towards you until your chests were all but touching.

It was something you adored, to see Daryl in such a state, and it made you feel powerful without any limits. The flow of your bloodstream began to pound with revelations with what you could make your obedient man disperse himself to. It was like he was a buffet of possibilities, however his arousal was rubbing against your thigh, making you recall his desperation, and it would be satire and cruel for you to allow him to suffer without your amorous caregiving.

You shuffled, keeping a balance on your body weight so that you didn’t accidentally stagger backwards into the buckets or moulding mops that were leant against the wall to your left, as you lowered your hands to his wide hips, giving him an affectionate squeeze before you turned him in your embrace so that his back was facing your front.

Admittedly there were times where you loved to listen to him beg and cry for lustrous attention, but now was not the time; neither one of you could make so much as a speck of noise, it was going to be difficult as often times Daryl would draw out long and pathetically attractive moans each time you held contact with his cock in any manner, but he would just have to be quiet somehow, and if he couldn’t control himself, you had ideas of how to make him.

“Be a good boy.” You whispered with sultry warning in his ear as you reached further around him, slowly and tantalisingly unweaving his belt, pulling the strip of leather through the flimsy loops which granted you access to undo the button and fly of his trousers. With swift motions you did so, carefully shoving them down his sides as his cock was released from its containment. It was leaking defiantly with precum, and he resorted to calming breaths as he steadied his own self into being relaxed despite the nearby danger.

He inhaled immediately as he felt one of your hands wrap perfectly around his achingly hard length, gliding up and down the taught and erect flesh which made him throw his long locked head back in pleasure. His eyelids twitched as he fought against his desire to let you know how utterly amazing you were making him feel, as he bit his own bottom lip over and over. You dared to increase the pace in which you were stroking him, and a shattered gasp tumbled past his bared teeth.

Without so much as a thought, you smothered his mouth with your hand, pinching his nose a couple of times between your thumb and forefinger to restrain the oxygen he was permitted for a few seconds. A vibration riveted against your palm, as a quiet moan was silenced by your restriction. His whole body was rattling, as he began to rut his hips so that his cock was moving in the grasp of your soft hand.

“Such a good baby.” Your breath hit his ear as you forbade yourself from saying anything else, knowing that it would be obscenely dangerous, and the hoard of vacantly minded walkers were more than capable of pushing through the locked door. Your thumb rubbed expertly against his tip, as tears began to fill Daryl’s eyes, however he continued to jerk into your grip, and soon they fled from his tear ducts. His salt water, pleasure filled tears rolled onto your hand, weaving across your flesh as his tongue rolled pathetically around your palm, losing any grounding to reality that he had.

It drove you on farther, moving your hand at a quicker pace to make him spill over the edge, and with one last tough tug, he expelled his seed from his balls, it shooting directly in the air for a moment, and landing vividly on the ground. Daryl continued to shake like a leaf, breathing a kind kiss to your palm as he held your hand against his mouth for a while longer. This was definitely an interesting tale, however you would never tell anybody else. Everyone else thought Daryl was the being of all dominance in your relationship, and it made you inwardly cackle at how wrong you were.

He was as submissive as a human could come (pun intended), and he stood there idly and cautiously as you aided him in tucking his cock back into his confines. You grappled his belt, pulling it back around into its holding as you pulled it tightly around his waist, your eyes glowing with the satisfaction that you could make him so easily crumble. With one last pat to his sensitive bulge, you waited a while longer, until the coast was clear and it was only a few stragglers of the herd to take out in order to make your unruly escape.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[redsugarx]

[EVENT RECAP] Spring, Skirts & Serpents: An Exploration in Hanfu

HELLO I am not dead! I see that some of my informational guide posts have been garnering attention recently; I will return to continuing that series soon, I have just been very busy x-x

I wanted to recap on this event that ate up my entire spring break (I posted about it a bit ago but I'm taking that post down so it doesn't get confusing). The event description is as follows:

"We will be presenting at “Spring, Skirts & Serpents: an Exploration in Hanfu” at Fremont Main Library (2400 Stevenson Blvd, Fremont, CA) on 3/29 from 1pm-2:30pm! We’ll be showcasing some of our Year of the Dragon + Year of the Snake designs runway style, followed by an interview-style talk (with me it's me I'm getting interviewed).

The event is in English and is free and open to the public, but space may be limited on the day of, so we’ve made sure you can preregister as VIPs and guarantee yourself a seat!"

As indicated, the event was held at Fremont Main Library in Fremont, CA. In addition to sharing some photos & videos, I want share the inner workings of making this event happen as well as reflect on some highlights/improvements that could be made.

Purpose

Several months ago I was approached by my past Chinese teacher Tung Laoshi (ya boi went to Chinese school for many years like a good little child, but transferred to private tutoring after elementary school) with an invitation to run a showcase event. For context, with the high concentration of Chinese-speaking families in the bay area, there's a fairly extensive network of Chinese teachers here—the circle closest to me is primarily Taiwanese (so we learn traditional characters instead of simplified). Tung Laoshi is a teacher in the Palo Alto area where I grew up. Wu laoshi was the other primary event coordinator, another Taiwanese Chinese teacher from Fremont, where the event was held, bringing in the support of the Wang & Wu Foundation.

Basically, the people organizing this event (other than me) were mostly coming from a Chinese education perspective. It's gotten harder and harder for these teachers to pique interest in Chinese language & culture from American-born kids. I'm not an exception to this, I hated going to Chinese school as much as any other kid, but due to a combination of factors including switching to private tutoring, higher-than-average immersion in Taiwan, and getting bribed with sweets, I ended up with a better handle on the language than a lot of other ABCs and ABTs (and running Cloud9 Hanfu DEFINITELY improved my language skills via immersion). From what I could gather, one of the questions at the core of their reasoning for holding this event was, why are you so interested in Chinese culture? How can I make my students/kids interested in it too? How do I get them to enjoy it enough to seek it out themselves, like you did, rather than needing to force them into begrudgingly learning it?

Honestly, I don't have a direct answer to that question. My appreciation for culture is multifaceted, driven by a combination of factors that aren't necessarily controllable. I can only hope that by sharing my work with everyone I can help inspire someone—if not the kids learning Chinese, then the teachers teaching it, to keep doing what they're doing.

On my side of things, this was an opportunity to share my work in person. I rarely hold events myself—Yulan deals with most of that, and has experience with several shows under her belt—but I have to say that, sort of like the Feynman technique, looking at my work through the lens of presentation to other people helped me get a lot of my thoughts in order and develop the concepts I wanted to express into intentional points.

I'm typically very very uncomfortable with public speaking, and will take any possible opportunity to move out of the spotlight, but I suppose I won't get better at it if I don't practice, and there will be times when it's necessary. After all, understanding the artist is crucial to understanding the art, so if I want to share my work then I will, to some extent, have to share about myself. It wasn't perfect, but it was an experience that I'm glad I went through :)

Prepwork

Preparations for the event were mostly concentrated into t minus 2 months or so. I was still in the depths of midterm hell for most of these two months and our MC Sandra was in Taiwan/Japan so we had to rely on Zoom for most of our meetings. Over this period we worked together to decide on an overall agenda, what sets we wanted to show, and the content of what we wanted to focus on for the interview.

Originally the event was supposed to be focused on the Year of the Snake collection alone, but our contact from Fremont Main Library felt that focusing on snakes only would drive away audiences that didn't like snakes, so we compromised on showing 4 sets from the Year of the Dragon collection and 5 sets from the Snake collection. The styling was mostly up to me, so during this time I put together the components of each of the 9 looks: the set, shoes, accessories, hair, makeup (kinda), etc. and made the necessary purchases.

Our 9 models ranged in age all the way from 7th grade to 31 years old. They were recruited from various places, some being students of the teachers, some being server members of Cloud9's discord. None of them had experience modeling, and very few of them had experience performing in any regard, but I think that choosing fresh faces to participate is a good thing: it gives new people a chance to experience hanfu, not limiting it to a small circle of people who are already invested in it.

We had one rehearsal a week before the event and another rehearsal on the morning on the 29th, so in total the models had maybe 5-6 hours of practice time to learn how to move around in clothes they'd never worn before, posing, coordinating with the MC etc.

The morning of was—not unexpectedly—a giant chaotic mess, but still fun nonetheless! I had to do nine people's hair in roughly 2 hours and barely finished before the event started. At the end of the day all nine models exceeded my expectations and presented beautifully :)

The interview portion was as terrifying as I expected but mostly went smoothly. I think I looked awkward as hell, but I at least didn't look like I wanted to dissolve into the floor, which is how I felt, so I'll count it as a success. For some reason the interview was cut really short, so there was a lot of content that we didn't really get to discuss, but I'm glad we got some of it out there: explaining the inspiration behind some of the sets in the snake collection, describing my experience & interest in hanfu, taking some questions and answers, etc etc.

Runway Lineup

KUKRI / 赤松子

Year of the Snake, Warring States Period, based on the Kukri snake, modeled by Natalie Chung. Natalie is in eighth grade and does competitive dance, and presented some of my favorite poses during the show. Her control of the giant sleeves was phenomenal, especially considering she had so little time to get used to them.

HUNDRED-PACER / 百步蛇

Year of the Snake, Han Dynasty, based on the hundred-pacer snake/Chinese moccasin, modeled by Edith Huang (ig: @ediithhuang). Edith is in eighth grade and has the tiniest waist I have ever set eyes on. I keep saying that it's like this set was made for her.

SPIRIT / 白素貞 + DRAGUN / 翠青兒

Year of the Snake, Northern & Southern Dynasties (specifically Northern Wei), inspired by the Legend of the White Snake, modeled by sisters Emma (ig: @eeeeemma_wang) & Audrey Wang (ig: @audreyolafz). Emma is a third year at UCSB and Audrey is a first year at UC Berkeley. They went up together with a pair of oil-paper umbrellas and executed the umbrella-spinning moves perfectly.

EQUINOX / 天欲暮

Year of the Dragon, Tang Dynasty, modeled by sword gremlin Kevin T. Wong (aka Sword Kevin or Sevin) (@ktw-shu). His aerial & sword flowers were a crowd favorite. During q&a we asked a little boy which set was his favorite and it was, unsurprisingly, this one. I also dared him to dab onstage.

HESPERUS / 升天行

Year of the Dragon, Tang Dynasty, modeled by Anyka Chan (ig: @an.bri.ka). Longtime server member. I don't know exactly what it is, but she carried this set with that kind of energy that just radiates out from her like she's glowing. The Tang beizi was not presented because we lowkey lost is oopsies.

AQUARELLE / 海霞紅

Year of the Dragon, Song Dynasty, modeled by Alicia Ho (ig: @lala38520). Alicia is in 7th grade, our youngest model this show, and I'll admit I was a little concerned, but as soon as the clothes + makeup + hair went up it was like she walked out of a painting. The white crown on her head is called a guan, popular in the Song Dynasty. This one was 3D printed.

MARQUIS / 隨侯珠

Year of the Snake, Ming Dynasty, modeled by Xing Chan (ig: @xingnificant). Xing Chan is a chemistry student at UC Berkeley. He has the most luscious hair ever and I will never stop asking for his haircare routine and then immediately forgetting what he said, causing me to ask about it yet again a month later.

SERAPHINE / 雲化龍

Year of the Dragon, Ming Dynasty, modeled by Lydia Wang (ig: @lydiaa_wang). Lydia is a sophomore in high school. As soon as she picked up the ruyi scepter on the day of rehearsal I knew I'd chosen the right model to close the show—this is a very elaborate set and can be hard to hold up, but she executed flawlessly.

Reflections

The Good Stuff

The models!!!!!! I am so thankful to everyone who volunteered their time to help out at this event but especially to the models, who had to spent hours on hours drilling their poses and had to go on stage one at a time all by themselves. Modeling isn't just as simple as walking across a stage either; the number of things that you have to remember at the same time is WILD: posture, expression, eye contact, focusing on shifting weight, coordinating timing with the MC, all while remembering the choreography that you're supposed to be doing. Everyone worked so hard and I'm so so grateful for their efforts, the results turned out beautifully.

Kept putting down our water bottles, losing track of them, and then needing to get a new water bottle because we couldn't remember which one was ours. I think I went through like five separate bottles.

Another thing was the Chinese teachers that helped out or attended as part of the audience. I haven't been in Chinese school in years, and when I actually was there I certainly didn't notice, but a lot of these women are really very hardworking, passionate teachers who find meaning in what they're doing. It was like I could see a ray of light shining in their eyes when I went up there, something to indicate that their efforts would not always be in vain. Don't get me wrong, I'm guilty of hating on Chinese school too, but after hanging out with a lot of the aunties & teachers it's clear that, as immigrants, it really does bring them joy and inspiration to see cultural continuance. It was very heartwarming.

I think what makes it even more personal is that these were specifically Taiwanese teachers. Many of them still struggle with English, but they came anyway because it was worth it to them. And for me these are the voices I grew up around and how I learned the language (many people from China will mock Taiwanese accents, but it feels very familiar and comforting to me). It was significant to them that I—the person being interviewed—was Taiwanese too.

Katy Wu from Wang & Wu Foundation

Overall I think I gained a lot of exp from the event! I still hate public speaking with a seething passion but it did make me think about some of my motivations and ideas more cohesively, since I needed to present my thinking to the public. Ultimately I think I came out of this feeling even more strongly about what I do, and I'm glad I did it.

The Error Analysis

When you have events that have expenses and higher-ups in politics or big nonprofit organizations are invited, you have to spend a lot of time acknowledging sponsors and shaking hands. I will not lie, I didn't know like 80% of the Important People that I was told to shake hands with, all I can offer is that I'm glad they came to watch anyway. The whole PR side of things isn't something that I'm very comfortable doing, though, hence why I usually leave it to Yulan, and it was definitely not my favorite part of this event.

Other limitations including time and audience also made it so that I had to cut out a lot of what I wanted to say during the interview. We did briefly talk about what topics to focus on before the event, but otherwise the interview was entirely organic. Unfortunately that also meant that a lot of it was out of my control. It's hard to describe without getting into detail, but I do think that there were subjects that the other event organizers wanted to focus on that I didn't want to focus on, and things that we knew the audience would want to hear about that I didn't think were important. Compromises have to be made!

Anyka doing her eyeshadow :>

Chaos is mandatory during event planning, but I also think that switching the topic from year of the snake -> snakes & dragons made it much less cohesive. I talked about the inspiration behind the year of the snake collection during the interview and highlighted a few specific sets for their connections to folklore & adjacent cultures, but the dragon sets were kind of just not mentioned. Not sure if audience members noticed it but it felt weird to me.

Another thing is that after discussing with my parents after the event (it's a thing we do, my dad likes to Get Deep into things), I realized that the event presented me as a designer and only as a designer. This is similar to how I depict myself online usually, but the truth is that there's more behind it that I didn't do a good job at communicating: I don't just draw pictures of clothes, I do a mind-numbing amount of research, international logistics tracking, supply chain management, etc. etc. to make this happen, and I do sometimes wish I was able to express that, because it's a big part of what I'm doing.

Conclusions

I am SO TIRED, this ate up all my energy for two months and then I had to take my special relativity midterm right after the event. I'm probably not going to have the energy for something like this for a while! That being said, going through the whole process was really fun and interesting and I'm curious about more events—informational, in person, online, whatever—in the future. With any luck, the more I do them the better I'll get at them, right?

Backstage shenanigans. Screenagers smh

Anyway, this post is long enough as it is. If anyone who attended sees this, hi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for coming!!!!!!!!! Otherwise I will go gorge myself on post-midterm snacks to untwist my brain from quantum physics. <3

Press:

SF Epoch Times - 穿越千年時光 灣區漢服秀展現華夏章服之美

Worldjournal - 「蛇龍舞春 漢服演繹」活動 洪兆寧設計9套漢服 感受傳統魅力

OCAC News - Cultural Fusion on the Runway: ‘Spring, Skirts & Serpents’ Highlights Hanfu Designs

快樂方程式 - 認識漢服之美 由Ariel 與董秀婷老師介紹蛇龍舞春的漢服活動