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mo0nfairy · 10 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA !

summary :: mike schmidt did not realize the weight of his mistake before it was too late. when he had first met you, his baby sister's beloved teacher, he couldn't imagine ever leaving you. with his aunt's demands to see her niece, however, he had no choice. now, a year later and two states over, everyday is spent suffocating on misery and memories. mike does not know how much more of this he can endure before he breaks.

word count :: 9.2k.

content warnings :: obsessive!mike, yandere!mike, fnaf movie spoilers, drugging, kidnapping, violence, stalking, & insinuations of s3x.

mike schmidt's yandere traits are . . .

obsessive, paranoid, & nervous

──── Everything is hazy.

Fuzzy. Blurry. Serenity in its sheerest form. The absolute definition of tranquility.

That April morning in Nebraska. The scent of sugar and crayons, the sounds of children playing outside, the scattered toys left on rainbow carpets. You're sat at the desk in your classroom. Warm light bleeding through the window behind you, framing you with flowering leaves and sunshine.

Across the room, Abby Schmidt sits on the floor. Her small fingers tap the glass enclosure where the class pet is. Mr. Cupcake, your iguana. Or, as you like to refer to him, your teaching assistant. His claws plunge into his food dish, copper-colored eyes scrutinizing his surroundings. Abby watches as the reptile chows on the fruit and foliage left for breakfast.

Sitting in the chair opposite your desk is Mike Schmidt. Sweat beads on his forehead, ineluctably distressed beneath your gaze. The suit he wore for this occasion juts uncomfortably into his skin. His fingers fidget with the trim of his tie. He looks at the woven basket of exotic butters sitting on your desk, wondering why he had gotten you such an aimless gift.

Mike is quiet, as usual. Austere, his permanent disposition. Despite his tireless efforts to express his thoughts to you, the words remain nestled in his throat. Conjuring any syllable in your presence is impossible.

You, however, do not have any wavering confidence. You reiterate the legal documents obligatory for Abby's complete transition to a new school. Noting how all necessities are now in your possession (albeit languidly, as Mike has been painfully trying to buy more time here), the relocation was complete. The obvious insinuation of your words, however, brings crippling dread like no other.

The last time you would ever see one another. Your goodbye.

Standing to your feet, you make your way to Abby and bend down beside her. You will miss your star student, as you have a soft spot for all the children in your classroom. In the process, you do not take notice of the way Mike instinctively reaches out to you. He's sure your touch would kill him, but it does not stop him from wishing for it. Even just a sliver of the precious rarity.

"I think Mr. Cupcake is going to miss you." Abby looks at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Don't tell the others, but you're definitely his favorite." That earns you a smile before she averts her attention back to the iguana.

When you stand, you find Mike breathing down your neck. Horrifically, as this memory still haunts him, he thought it'd be a good idea to hug you. And he practically throws his entire body weight on top of you. When you reject him by placing your hand on his chest, offering a handshake instead, fire spreads with your touch. Knowing he will never know what it feels like to hold you close to him is more excruciating than he is willing to admit.

Abby skips out of the classroom, an adorable pep in her step. At the same time, every step Mike takes from you feels like walking through an avalanche. Dragging him backward, begging to return to you. Almost as if it were his instinct, his body is trying to reject his advances of leaving you.

"Why do you always look at them like that? Like... Like they're a dinosaur or something?"

Abby's question causes Mike's brows to furrow. His feelings for you were certainly discernible. Even his young sister had taken notice of the odd behavior. Had he made it that obvious? He answers her with a weak, affirmative grunt. Too emotionally fatigued to find words to speak.

A sudden flare of biliousness deluges through his body. The hallway walls adorned with children's paintings have morphed into a colorful blur of vertigo. The floors disturbingly stretch in size, making the journey away from you all the more torturous. The suit he had tried to wear confidently sticks to his hot skin. Nausea squirms in his stomach like a dying cockroach. The room begins to spin, lights sway in his vision, and his knees fight for balance.

Mike hears his sister shriek his name before he falls to the ground.

One year later, Mike wakes from this same dream, once again.

Every night of this past year, he has dreamt the same thing. Your final goodbye and the sheer impact it took on him. It is a gut-wrenching memory, but he welcomes the echo of you with open arms. To feel your hand on his chest, see your eyes looking into his. This yearning heartache is the only thing keeping him alive.

For the umpteenth time, Mike faces the harsh, violent reality of his current life. Now, he is somewhere in Utah. Praying straight to God he'll somehow wake up back in Nebraska. Where he could see you again, where he could be happy again.

Tearing the headphones of his Walkman off, the song he had played on repeat comes to an end. He rubs his sleepy eyes. With newfound clarity, Mike shifts his gaze upwards. Taped to the ceiling is a drawing Abby drew. It's of you and him beneath a flowery altar, Mr. Cupcake as your marriage officiant. The picture aids him in his efforts to feel closer to you.

Mike doesn't even know how he survived seeing the drawing for the first time. Someone else validating his feelings for you and the realness of your nonexistent relationship was too much for him to handle. Even if it is a child doing so through a frivolous drawing.

When Mike shuffles over to place his Walkman on the bedside table, he skims over the assortment of clutter left there. Several bottles of sleeping medication had been indolently thrown onto the surface. The pills help his dreams feel more real, as though he were at your side once again.

A glance over, Mike's heart wrenches at the sight of the picture frame. Beside the mess of pills is a photograph of you he had torn from Abby's yearbook. As if you were watching over him while he slept, reaching out to him in the presence of his dreams. It's a comforting thought of his, to imagine you watching over him. Like his personal guardian angel.

Surely, he would prefer to have you physically with him, instead of just relying on these fantasies to hold him over. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of you being in his bed with him. Mike feels empty without your warm weight beside him.

Laying against his chest, huddling up to him for an early-morning cuddle before the day starts. He would ensnare his blanket around your still-sleeping form. He'd press ardent kisses to the top of your head and inhale the aromatic scent of your signature soap. Massaging his hands across your back. Caressing the balmy flesh of your body. It is the physical manifestation of nirvana brought directly into his palms.

Mike shakes the thoughts out as quickly as they come. So cheesy... What on Earth is he doing?

Although he has tossed around the idea of giving in and leaving Abby in their aunt's care, what kind of man would you think him as if he abandoned his family? And if he were to take Abby back to Nebraska, Social Services would surely hunt him down. The mere idea of being locked behind a prison cell is terrifying, but the prospect of never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

Mike's head pounds as these thoughts haunt him. Reveries of brighter days in your presence, trepidation of being separate from you forever — this is how every morning usually begins. His dreams nestled in a nightmare. The chaos in his head brings him to where this story had begun altogether.

February. Two months before the last time he would ever see you.

Jane had demanded Abby live with her in Utah, threatening legal action in the process. Mike had no other choice but to succumb to her orders. It had begun as a minor inconvenience, considering his life in Nebraska was futile to begin with. However, it would soon become the worst decision he has ever made. He knows he should have fought harder, but Mike hadn't met you until after he verified their relocation. It wasn't until he had stepped foot into your classroom for the very first time had he realized the weight of his mistake.

With the start of his shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza approaching, he struggled to bring these rampant thoughts to rest. Resentfully, Mike rises from his bed. The sun has begun to set and his unsatisfactory power nap has come to an end. He trudges over to the foot of his bed and begins his usual set of push-ups. Triggering adrenaline through his body is essential to his daily routine. It helps ease his brain from all the chaos. An area he is in dire need of assistance.

For a moment, his thoughts are blank. It is such an oddity, that Mike is left stunned. Having a silent mind is a privilege that is unknown to him.

And just when he thought he had found coherence, the memory of you comes sprinting at him from the shadows. Mere seconds of emptiness pass before thoughts of you invade his mind.

A week after your final goodbye.

His disposition has suffered from a harsh descent since then. Mike is now irritable and aggressive to anyone who even faintly nudges his buttons. Snapping like a feral dog. Rough like a calloused hand.

Acknowledging weakness has never been his strong suit, but Mike is not a fool when it comes to how he feels around you. The overwhelming nerves stirred together with unwavering devotion make for a sugary-sweet, poisonous concoction. Something he could get drunk off for years to come.

Although his mind is stained in consideration, he cannot storm through the school doors and take you with him to Utah. Merely standing in your presence is enough to make him stop breathing. Contriving an abduction, one that includes you, no less, would fail miserably. And as he stated before, the prospect of being stuck behind bars and never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

So, he gives in. He resentfully gives in to what his Aunt Jane wants and goes about his life.

There was only two more weeks before he'd leave his job as security at the mall forever. Mike meanders through the large expanse, actively averting his gaze from all the happy couples. Hands held together, eyes brimming with adoration, feeding each other ice cream. It never fails to make him bitter, which he prefers to assume it is because of how sappy the sight is.

He wonders what flavor of ice cream is your favorite, the look in your eye as he feeds you a spoonful. What kind of sweet words you'd give him and the way you'd blush when he drowns you in adoration. Within the safety of his mind, he has molded himself into the man of your dreams. You will just have to look past all the sweat and nerves to find him.

A flicker of movement captures his attention. Something strangely familiar in his peripheral. When he turns, his breath gets caught in his chest.

His wide eyes stare at you. Standing alone across the mall.

All Mike can do is gawk. Like a newly-born fawn, staring goggle-eyed and weak-kneed as he takes in the sight of the world for the very first time. A gasp of your name parts from his lips. He sways in his stance like a boat on the sea, his body melts like snow beneath the sunlight. Stood still in place, he feels that familiar sense of light-headedness return. He embraces the dizziness as a comfort, this time around.

Mike could almost laugh at this. At the same time, he could cry his heart out.

Of course, your roads would intersect. Of course, you would find each other in the end. Even when he had fully accepted he would never see you again, you return to him. Like a cloud of happier days, here to hide the torment for all.

And then, he's interrupted.

Walking uninvited into the scene is a stranger. A man approaches you, daring to drape his arm around your shoulder. Mike's eye twitches as he watches. The stranger then plants a kiss on your cheek, something Mike has wished to do since the first time he stepped foot in your classroom. With this man's hands all over you, the two of you begin to walk away.

The word "heartbroken" was something Mike had never felt before. It was something he never understood. He only heard of the word through brainless movies, where he swore he'd never let himself fall apart like the dumb characters do. At this moment, however, that term is stamped all over him in thick ink. A vivid exhibition of all the good and bad you have done to him.

Without another thought, Mike takes a step. Then another. Before he is breaking into a full sprint toward the love of his life and the parasite latched onto them. It's as if a puppeteer was controlling him, grasping hold of his spine and snatching a fistful of nerves. He shoves past any shoppers in his way, a few losing balance and falling to the floor. His speed accelerates with every hastening step, growing closer and closer.

The stranger looks over his shoulder a second too late before he is tackled. The two fall into an adjacent fountain with a loud clamor. Mike's fist clenches, before it surges down into his face. Then, he does it again and again and again.

Again. Again. Again.

And again.

Grunting like an animal, Mike can't stop himself.

Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Don't you ever fucking touch them.

It is blinding, how enraged he is. In a mess of blood and water. The mere thought of someone laying a finger on you boils red-hot rage like he has never felt before.

Someone ensnares their arms around him and drags him away from the mess he created. When the splashing water eases down to calm ripples, he finally looks over to you to ensure your safety and- who is that? A different person is standing there, utter horror plastered on their face as they watch the scene play out.

They have the same height, the same clothes, almost the same everything. But, now that Mike is able to scrutinize who he thought to be you, he realizes he was completely wrong. He had only formed a desperate personification of you from memory. What has he done?

The dread is soul-crushing as the weight of his mistake crushes him. Other bystanders watch in shock. Mike's fists are bruised red, his clothes are wet and stained with blood. What on Earth was he thinking!? All he ever wanted was to protect you! To protect you from men like that!

Mike's vision doubles and his body shivers. All he ever wanted was to protect you. The only thing he can think about is you and the sheer devastation you have rained down into his life.

This memory playing through his head is abruptly cut short. Mike is then forcefully shoved back into reality when his hand slips during his set of push-ups. He falls face-first into the carpet, grumbling from the harsh contact.

It is a vile memory to have, as it is the reason he lost his job at the mall and truly eradicated any chance of staying in Nebraska. However, it showed him how irrevocably devoted he is to you. How the feelings he has for you are completely and utterly real. Someone like him, who prides himself in being aloof and controlled, was capable of causing such calamity. All for your safety.

It was a terrifying revelation, but it soothed him in a way he had never felt before.

Michael Schmidt needs you.

And unfortunately, his feelings are not powerful enough to stretch into physical reality. Even though it feels as though they are capable of doing so, they cannot mold the world to bring him back to you. They cannot protect him from the inevitability of leaving his home and being dragged to Utah.

Now, he stands at the entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Ivy grows amongst the bricked walls. Bright paint fades from years of neglect. Mike breathes in the scent of midnight brume as he unlocks the doors, trying once more to rid his brain of the thought of you.

The flashlight in his hands illuminates the inside of the pizzeria. Specks of dust permeate the air. Flashy arcade games are riddled with age. Toys on the prize shelf are covered in a blanket of cobwebs. The once gaudy carpets are caked with dirt. And those God-awful animatronics still stand on that rickety stage. Mike takes note of all these little things with a sigh. If this place was still alive today, he knows you'd adore taking your students here.

As his nights have been spent for the last year, he walks through the dilapidated establishment as usual. On the desk is a stack of chunky monitors displaying several angles of the pizzeria. The "CELEBRATE!" poster on the wall mocks him. He plops down on the adjacent swivel chair. The old fabric peels and the wheels whine from his weight.

Unzipping his ragged backpack, he grasps hold of the book he had taken with him, Dream Theory. Adjusting the headphones of his Walkman on his head, Mike then flicks the dog-ear over and resumes his reading.

God only knows how many times he has read this damned book. And every time he rereads it, he prays he can somehow find an anecdote for this torment. A magic step-by-step guide that will bring him back to you.

Despite perusing this book from front to back, he still searches for more. He hates being awake. He'd much rather be asleep, where he can return to you. Any second not spent with you, even if the moment is not tangible, is a second gone to waste. No matter what the circumstances are, he could only ever wish to be with you.

Lethargy hits Mike like a slap across the face. The book in his hands is now reminiscent of a brick. The song that plays on repeat in his Walkman soothes him like a mother's lullaby. All of these sensations embrace Mike; they pacify his brain and body of any unease. And with a few more leveled breaths, Dream Theory falls from his hands and he drifts off.

With a beat, he's woken up with a sharp gasp. This time, however, he does not awaken in the same dingy pizzeria. He finds himself sitting at a picnic table. Located in the very same forest he had lost his brother years ago.

Looking down, Mike finds he is dressed in the same hunter-green sweater and jeans stained with grass. His eyes scan around the expanse, searching for the faces of his family. He cannot find his mother, his father, nor Garrett. No one. Everything is to no avail.

There's a shuffle from behind him. He looks, only to find swaying trees and fluttering birds. And then, a voice.

"I'm sad to see you both go." The familiar cadence has Mike's head snapping back forward. He is struck with desperation.

There you are, sat across from him at the picnic table.

If it weren't for the campgrounds you were both at, this moment would be identical to when he first met you. In that same classroom, on that same day. Every mannerism and timbre of your voice is a picture-perfect copy of that moment. Same look in your eye, wearing the same clothes and bead bracelets your students made for you. Same everything.

It is a precious memory. To sit here with you feels so real, as though the heavens had answered Mike's prayers and brought him back to you.

"Abigail has always been a stellar student. I have no doubt she'll flourish in her new school."

Your smile makes his heart sink. Everyone always looks at him with anger. Not you, though. You're different.

"She does have a tendency to keep to herself. But, I think she'll adapt well to the new environment." He remembers every word from your mouth.

The emotions he was struck with when he first met you come back in a near-fatal rush. Irrepressible tension and rapture plunge through the barrier of his flesh. Practically a duplicate of the exact memory.

Going to a standard school meeting for his sister was an event Mike intended to do briefly. Getting it over as quickly as possible is his standard approach to most if not all, aspects of his life. This day, however, he was thrown in a whirlpool when he found himself wishing to stay with you. Leaving you felt like something he could not bear to endure.

Mike is abnormally pale, drenched in sweat, and mere seconds from passing out. You place your hand on his arm, inquiring him about if he was feeling alright. Hook, line, and sinker. Your mere touch sent him charging away from any perceived sanity he once possessed.

The strictly platonic concern you had for his well-being is addicting. To a point where Mike abandons all morals to indulge in these newfound feelings you give him. Once a poised man has now been reduced to a gooey puddle of sheer fervor.

All he can do is nod in response, completely entranced by the sight before him. You take his assurance hesitantly, before reaching into a basket of children's toys beside your desk. As this memory usually plays out, you retrieve a bear plushie. You then tell him of how it is Abby's favorite to play with and how you wish to gift it to her before your final goodbye. He agrees, of course. Nodding once more to compensate for his inability to speak.

In these woods, however, you show him that orange toy plane his brother treasured. His gaze remains latched to you as stand from the picnic table and walk away. To his utmost surprise, you then bend down beside Garrett. When you present him with the plane, he accepts your gift with childlike elation. He is quick to abandon his recent endeavors in favor of playing with his new toy.

You stand on foot, watching with an adoring smile as the young boy takes off. Mike watches you. An emotional, muddled intensity in his eyes.

"This isn't... This isn't how it happened... This isn't real." In his state of confusion, Mike has found the ability to speak.

He captures your attention and your gaze reverts to him. In response, his mouth goes dry and all coherent thought vanishes. Just one look from you and his entire capacity to speak is robbed, once again.

"But, it could be... It's what you want, isn't it?"

You are correct. You have always been veracious and that attitude does not fail now.

So despairingly, Mike wants this with you. To raise Abby and Garrett together, he can only imagine the wonderful people they'd become under your care. Maybe you and him could even bring a few more beautiful lives into this world. He can only imagine how exultant his own life would become if this dream turned into reality.

The rest of his life would be spent with you in Nebraska, just like this. Mornings and nights spent together at the dining table, all delicious laughter and nourishing meals. He'll even let you bring that lizard, too!

Playing frivolous games in the backyard until the sun sets, dressing in ridiculous costumes to take the kids trick-or-treating, and helping them blow out the candles for every birthday cake. Hell, he'll endure the sweltering temperatures and screaming kids at Disneyland. Only if you're there with him.

And maybe after the bedtime stories and last tuck-ins goodnight, you and him can occupy yourselves with other activities. Mike is no stranger to these kinds of fantasies, after all.

You wouldn't fail Abby and Garrett. Not like he did. You could all be a family. Exactly like he has always wanted.

For a moment, Mike had forgotten how his life had inevitably turned out. He was so warped in the domestic bliss he could have with you, that he didn't anticipate how the next chapter of his life would manifest in this dream.

You are tackled to the ground. You fight, you kick, you scream — you do everything in your strength to get the man off of you. The very same man who took Garrett all those years ago.

Not a picosecond passes before Mike picks himself up, rushing to your safety. He intends to beat the man to a bloody pulp. His sole purpose on Earth is to protect you and ensure your safety, after all. In his efforts, his foot gets caught against the legs of the picnic table, sending him to the dirt floor. Mike is quick to scramble to his feet. His heart races a mile a minute; his eyes are blown wide in crazed worry.

When he stands, he finds that somehow within the few seconds spent on the ground, you had been shoved into the back of a car. You bang your fists against the rear window, pleading for him to rescue you. And that, Mike desperately tries to do.

He sprints after you in a blind, blurred panic. The sudden, swift movement of his body is painful, as though needles poke and prod at his skin. It is all he can see, hear, feel, think of. Losing you and the gut-wrenching devastation that would inevitably follow.

The car begins to accelerate faster and faster. His running pace gets slower with every step forward. Mike tries, God, he fucking tries, but you slip away from him like sand between his fingers. Just the same as it was when he lost his brother.

With his speed receding, his body loses all mobility and he cannot bear to run anymore. The harsh punt of his body falling to the ground pulls a grunt out of his throat. Mike whispers mantras of "I'm sorry," hoping that you can somehow hear his pleas. He prays that by some miracle, the man who took you will have a change of heart and bring you back. Sobs plunge through his chest. The misery seeps in like water leaking through a weak dam.

Consciousness comes back to him all too suddenly. A loud yell of your name erupts from him and echoes through the security room. Mike plummets from his desk chair and splats against the ground. His mind is still plagued by that scene, he is still racing to save your life.

Cold sweat drips from his head. His hands shake with a terrified tremor. He hyperventilates, as though he had escaped the depths of the ocean and were inhaling fresh air for the first time. Mike weakly props himself up against the desk, trying to calm himself.

An entire year of agony. Over 365 days of absolute Hell. Living without you has tortured him in ways he never thought was possible.

Sitting here on the filthy floor of this old pizzeria, Mike finally waves his white flag. He has given up. He cannot do this anymore. It is more than he can handle.

And without so much as another breath, Mike springs into action.

Max is surprised to see him back home so early. Flustered and ridden with sweat, Mike explains how there is an emergency at work and he needs her to watch Abby longer. She obliges and accepts the hefty pay he shoves into her hands. He is driving away before she can process what has just occurred.

The song he plays every night in his Walkman blares from the car radio. Your song. The idea brings him ephemeral ease. A dash of excitement.

This is what his life is supposed to be and if all goes well, it's what it will be in mere hours. Mike's foot slams harder against the gas, doing what he should have done long ago.

All he has to do is explain himself. Surely, you will listen and understand this is for the better. You will see through all his stuttered words and irrepressible nerves. You will taste the sickeningly sweet devotion dripping from his mushy, candied heart. Surely, you will understand this is all for you. And of course, you will love him, too.

Hours pass like gusts of wind. The welcome sign of Nebraska passes in a flash. Mike remembers the route like the back of his hand. He'd never forget the roads that lead back to you, after all.

Dawn is moments from rising. The sky is a dark blue, covered in blotches of dark, orange sunshine. Mike pulls into the parking lot of your school where only one car is present. Yours. And of course, he parks directly beside you. The prospect of being close to you, even with something as negligible as this, sends a hot shiver coursing through his body.

Mike tries to soothe himself as he lets out a shaky breath. A heavy trepidation is nestled in his stomach, still mixed with that crisp excitement. Sweat cascades down his face. His dark, curly hair sticks to his forehead. Nothing can stop these feelings. He may try, but his scattered heartstrings stubbornly remain ensnared around his throat.

When he stands, he has to latch onto the roof of his car to catch his balance. Any passerby would think he was drunk. Being at an elementary school would certainly not help his case, either. Fortunately, the only people here are you and him. No one else. Just the way it is supposed to be.

The path leading to you is familiar. The trees blossoming, the chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and the scent of the early-morning breeze. It reminds Mike even more of how much he missed you.

His wet palms grasp the handles of the front entrance. He pulls, only for the door to remain locked in place. A few more desperate tugs and he watches as his ploy peels apart from the seams. The consideration of breaking down the door is only present momentarily, before any and all function of his is cut short.

The door is unlocked and opened. Stood at the threshold is you.

And with more intensity than Mike had anticipated, the euphoria only you are capable of conjuring comes rushing back.

"Good morning!" is all you say. Your expression is cheerful. Kind. Gorgeous, as you always are. Exactly the way he remembered.

Now that you are finally here, Mike cannot fathom how he had survived so long without you. The pieces of you sprinkled throughout his life are brought to revelation. Your name carved into his bones, your warmth threaded through his veins, your breath stirred with his every word. It is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The fact he had not collapsed upon making mere eye contact with you is a miracle in of itself.

"Oh! Are you the new security guard? I wasn't aware we were getting a new hire." You break the silence, referring to the yellow "SECURITY" stamped on his vest.

You...

You don't remember me?

The words don't manage to escape him. Instead, you send him into a state of stupor.

The impact your words have on him is nothing short of surreal. When Mike had memorized every sliver of you down to the tilt of your jaw and the curve of your spine, you had forgotten him entirely. For the year he spent longing for you, he was merely a bystander in the background. An apparition within your mind. You do not remember him. And no words in the English language could express the lethal heartbreak.

It has rendered Mike speechless and his inability to speak fills you with unease.

"Please, come in." Opening the door further, you try and usher him inside. All you wish to do is escape this conversation and the fervid eyes of this stranger.

Gaze still glued to you, he grasps hold of the door handles. His unconscious brain still decides to take the weight off of you. Mike has no choice now, he must convince you to stay with him. To beg you to choose him, to remind you of everything you once had with each other. To show you what losing you has done to him.

When you turn and walk away, he tries to find his voice. Mike wants to express all of this to you, but his efforts are futile. He is frozen and can only watch as you leave him again. The opposite direction of your classroom, this time. Towards the office. Most likely to ensure he was actually in the system.

Mike does not take this choice of yours for granted. Gathering up whatever morsel of strength is still left in him, he takes a few wobbly steps. He stumbles through the dark hallways, clutching his hand over his heart as he walks. His rampant heartbeat does not calm itself, no matter his attempts to soothe it.

Upon practically collapsing into your classroom, a flare of fleeting ease envelops Mike. To be surrounded by you is absolute ecstasy. Paradise is personified through flamboyant decorations and the scent of strawberries and books.

He scans every detail of your classroom. The new drawings on the wall, the jumble of recently purchased toys. He sees the new changes you have made in the past year and is shattered to know you were not thinking of him at all. As opposed to every second of his life being enmeshed with you.

Mike soon finds your desk. The first and last place he had ever truly felt happiness. On the surface, some of your clutter had been left behind. Too cute. A colorful planner had been left open to this exact date. A few papers are sat to the side, where students' assessments are in the process of being graded. Most important of all, your thermal scattered with stickers sits on a pained coaster.

Mike knows he should not consider it, no less think about it. You just need to be reminded, that's all.

With a paranoid glance at the door, he takes the orange bottle of sleeping pills from his backpack. He swiftly pours out several onto the desk. Then, he takes a stapler you had left out of reach from children's sticky fingers, crushing the thin white circles into a chunky powder. Your thermal opens with a quiet pop! and Mike pours the residue into your drink. He uses the straw to stir it around for effective measure, trying to ignore the incessant urge to take your straw for... personal use.

A storage closet resides right behind him. Mike leaves everything on your desk as it once was and is swift to hide inside. He leaves the door open a mere creak, within perfect distance to watch his plan unfold.

The minute without you feels torturous, as though it had lasted a millennia. When the aching sound of silence is filled by a creaking door, his heart practically plummets. Through the small peep, you enter his field of vision. You trot over to the iguana enclosure. Saying a quick hello to Mr. Cupcake, before making your way to your desk. Oblivious to the uninvited guest just inches away.

You take a sip from your thermal. Mike cannot find air to breathe or the ability to function.

You take another. This is actually happening.

One more sip. Your pen scribbles on your planner.

You take a sip. It is a blessing straight from God you cannot hear the hyperventilated breaths behind you.

Then, another sip. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

As you work, you reach over to grab some sticky notes. Your elbow accidentally nudges your pen, causing it to fall from your desk and roll across the floor. You stand to retrieve it with a grumble before a sudden wave of lethargy envelops you. It is all too sudden and acute. You have to lean on the edge of your desk to stable yourself.

Before you can question the sudden fatigue, your body fails you. When you inevitably fall, Mike is quick to catch you. Hell, his arms were around you before your legs even wobbled. Slowly, and with loving attentiveness, he guides your limp body to the ground. The adrenaline inside him is so penetrating, that he does not have a moment to process the fact he is touching you.

With you fully unconscious, Mike knows exactly where he'll be heading next. Only now, he'll have an additional passenger with him.

He secures your unconscious form into the back seat of his car. Fastening your seatbelt and triple-checking they are in proper function. Mr. Cookie, or whatever his name is, is in the front seat within his cage. Moving his enclosure and necessities from your classroom was a hassle, as told by the bite mark on Mike's hand. For you, though, he would endure far worse.

With the birds beginning to sing, there is little time before the world wakes up and his intentions are jeopardized. Mike drives off before anyone can see what he has done. Not even he has fully processed what he has done.

Leaving your car, your home, and your life behind, he begins the treacherous and exciting journey back to Utah.

Every car that passes has him gripping the wheel tighter, foot reader to slam harder on the gas. He had already lost you once, he cannot lose you again. Mike does not play music, either. The sounds of your breathing is his new favorite harmony.

He casts a glance in the rear-view mirror every now and then. You're draped among the back of the car, cocooned in the numerous blankets he brought for this trip. Beneath the windows, your head is rested against a fluffy pillow. He even snuggled a few plushies into your arms. The sight is so gut-wrenchingly adorable, Mike nearly crashes the car with how painfully distracting the sight of you is.

This was the state he stayed in for the first several hours of the drive. Mindless driving on freeways, checking on you (as well as continuously cooing over your cuteness), and holding his breath whenever he passes through busy areas or cops. Then, he gets knocked off course.

With blurred vision, you can barely discern where you are.

Sunlight makes you squint. Your mind is messy. You can hear the rumble of a car engine, feel the vibration against your form. The blankets wrapped around you are suffocating. You peel them off from your body, a few random stuffed animals fall to the car floor when you do so.

Mike nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns around. His efforts to take you away were frivolous, yes, but he was sure he had given you enough pills to sleep through the trip.

"Hey, you're okay. Y-You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay? Just don't freak out... Please don't freak out."

You do the opposite of what he advised. Little by little, the pieces begin to click together. Panic settles in your stomach like a fresh sheet of snow. Hyperventilating breaths leave your shaking body, accentuated by your frightened whimpers. Who is this man? What the fuck is going on? Tears stream down your face with every question that litters your mind. And every cracked sob you let out is a fatal strike to your assailant's fragile heart.

Mike is quick to comfort you, as you can always count on him to do such. And how badly he wishes to climb into the back seat himself and hold you close. Everything he is doing is for the better, you must know that. As scary as this all may seem for you, he will do whatever it takes to convince you of this truth.

He reaches his hand back to soothe you, only succeeding in the opposite when you cower away from his touch. Mike cannot hide how poignant your rejection is, he is shocked he hadn't broken down into tears alongside you.

"... Are you going to hurt me-?"

"I would never."

He answers without a sliver of hesitation. Your shattered, sugar-sweet voice absolutely destroys him.

The weight of his declaration is so immense that you could almost believe him. You should believe him, as he only tells the utter truth. The fact you have been drugged and shoved into the backseat of a stranger's car, however, convinces you otherwise.

Looking through the window, you take note of the rural area you're in. Nothing but miles of trees to comfort you. No distinct landmarks to help you navigate your location.

Mike oscillates between looking at you and the road. While he's occupied with the road ahead, you take action before thinking thoroughly. Sweltering blankets torn off of your body, you unfasten your seatbelt as silently as you can. You mentally prepare yourself for the turmoil up ahead. Then, within a matter of a single second, you unlock the car door and jump.

Debris slices into you as you fall deeper into the forest. The world becomes a blurred frenzy of trees and cloudy skies. Your frail body is drowsy from the drugs still pumping through your system. Your ribs ache, your ears ring, and you are covered in gashes. Still, survival is the only prospect present in your brain. You pick yourself up from the dirt and dash forward. Never looking back.

April puddles and fallen pinecones ruin your expensive work shoes. Fresh flowers are squished beneath your steps. There is no path you intend to take, you only wish to get as far as you can from that man. Poison ivy and low-hanging branches slash at your skin. You do not think, you only push and push and push. Anywhere away from him.

The second you had opened that car door, Mike slammed down on the brakes. The scream of your name hurts his throat from the sheer volume. To see you jump, leaving him again, sparked fear like no other. He does not even bother to turn off the car or close the door before he is racing after you. He cannot lose you again. He can't, he can't, he can't.

Mike barrels into the forest like a feral animal. He is met with a terrifying sense of déjà-vu. He's seen this movie before, he's heard this song a million times. This dream has haunted him forever. Just when he is inches from touching salvation, you will be snatched away from him. And he will have to watch as his life crumbles before his very eyes.

His legs grow heavier with every step. He screams for you until his voice goes raw. His lungs feel as though they may collapse into themselves. Still, his efforts to find you do not falter. You would have to kill him if you wished to keep him away from you.

A tree branch crunches.

Mike stops dead in his tracks. Listening.

There's a pained whimper. Quiet amongst the soft winds.

He dashes toward the sound. Swift in surging through the steep hills and overgrown forestry in his path.

While you were running, you failed to notice a protruding tree root. When your foot hooks beneath it and sends you tumbling to the ground, you try and scramble to your feet. However, the burst of adrenaline that had gotten you this far could not combat the lethargy still in your body. You lay on your back, exasperated with debility. Entirely paralyzed.

"Y/N! Oh, thank God!" Mike collapses beside you, all while you stare at the stranger in utter terror.

Dirt and sweat paint his body. Eyes blown wide and crazed, his hands reach for you. Fearfully searching for any wounds. One hand cradles your face, caressing your skin with his thumb. The other rests against your hairline, petting the expanse with tender intent. Cries of both relief and terror fill the empty silence. To lose you all over again is a horrifying prospect he cannot fathom the weight of.

"N-... No..." Your voice is weak. Barely able to crawl out of your mouth.

Fingers latched into the mud, you try to drag your body away from this maniac. Mike brings your attempts to a halt, hands still latched onto your body.

"I'll be good, Y/N, I will... Just-Just stay with me!"

Your assailant does not listen to your feeble demands. Instead, Mike wraps his arms around your torso. Further ensnaring you in his locked embrace. He buries his face into your neck and rocks your body back and forth. Trying to soothe you into another slumber. His sniffles are overpowered by his sharp inhales of breath. Consuming your scent.

"You're not leaving me. You're not fucking leaving me!" Mike bawls out.

He is now a complete mess. Face twisted with ugly sobs. All hot tears and running snot.

"Just sleep now, okay? I'm right here..."

Blunt nails dig into your shoulder blades. His weight on top of you is suffocating. Please just love him and never leave him. That is all he could ever ask for, all he could ever want. He has spent so long without the one he loves most, he cannot bear to ever part from them ever again.

With a choked groan, Mike lifts your limp body from the ground. Sniffling reassurances echo as you reach a state of unconsciousness. He lifts you over his shoulder and your body loses all mobility. As he takes you away, your mind fades into a peaceful rest. Escaping is now a pipe dream.

Faint sounds of shuffling are what you're next awoken to. Pipes bang and thump. It is far more quiet than your last conscious encounter.

Darkness pervades your vision. Your body feels weightless, as though you are floating through a dream. You cannot move, no matter your efforts to try. As if your limbs had been glued to the fluffy expanse you've been laid upon. All you are capable of doing is releasing a guttural moan of disdain from the back of your throat.

"Easy, cub. Easy now."

No.

The voice is fluffy and easy. Horrifyingly familiar.

This can't be real; this can't be reality. This cannot be what your life becomes: rotting away in this stranger's embrace.

You were granted several mere seconds of solitude before hands were on your body, once again. The grasp lifts your body, to where your assailant sits behind you and rests your back against his chest. His efforts are gentle. Comforting. Though, the movement still has you wincing in discomfort. You hadn't anticipated how many injuries you had given yourself.

Speckles of your sight return in short spurts. There is light against the darkness, everything is gold. Drowned in the hues of candlelight scattered around the room. The glow is cast against a fuzzy expanse, to where you could almost convince yourself you were in a dream. And my God, do you wish it was.

You miss the rich, headache-inducing colors of your classroom. The judging stares of other parents who drowned their homes in beige decor never felt more comforting. You miss the screeching children with their constant need for attention. Their dramatic tears and obnoxious attitude would bring you peace like no other.

Mike plants his chin against your shoulder and all you can think about is the beautiful life you have lived until this point. His arm slithers across your torso, tightening with vehement need. It is loving in the most suffocating manner. You then hear a bottle unscrew through static noise. shushes you as he presses the lid against your lips. Water cascades into your mouth and down your dry throat, all while Mike presses impassioned kisses to your temple.

"There you go. Very good... You're perfect..." His tone is cordial as he ushers you to drink.

As much as you had tried to fight his attempts to give you water, it has fortunately provided you more clarity. The environment surrounding you fades into something more lucid.

You've been swaddled in a thick comforter. Soft and floral-scented, fresh out of the dryer. The king-size bed is at the end of the room and provides you with a clear view of everything. The lack of windows and decrepit staircase tucked in the corner tell you this is a basement. Soundproofed and locked up, your chances of escape are minimal. He does not want to let you go, that much is for certain.

Across the room is a chunky television. Movie cassettes sit in the cabinet supporting the television, where a newly purchased GameCube is left beside, as well. There's a bookshelf to your left, which is filled with old novels and children's books. Nothing was bought recently. Is there a child in this house? Lego sets and puzzle boxes are stacked next to the shelf. You come to the chilling assumption that it is intended to be something for you to occupy yourself with when he's gone.

Much to your satisfaction, Mike leaves from his spot behind you. He guides you back onto the pillow with romantic, loving ease. A gentle caress to your cheek before he goes. As if he was your doting husband taking care of you while you are ill.

When you look to your right, your heart accelerates when you find your iguana enclosure on top of a rickety table. Thank God he is alright! You do not know what you would do if this man had harmed Mr. Cupcake.

As words have failed you consistently, you whine out like a baby to express your wants. Your assailant's attention is back on you at record speed. The persistent need he has to ensure your comfort is almost pathetic. Teary-eyed and pouty, you reach for the enclosure holding your iguana.

Mike's body goes rigid. A gentle gasp emanates from him.

Are you... Are you reaching for him?

He practically throws himself back onto the bed. Sat beside your laying form, he almost can't bring himself to believe it. His deluded fantasies have bloomed into existence.

"Yes? What do you need, cub?" Please say him. Please say you need him like he needs you.

Mike looks at you and his eyes melt into candy. A gentle smile plastered on his face, he brings his finger up and boops you on the nose. Affectionate is his natural disposition. You're too fucking cute.

Mike had wasted an entire year without you. Too much time spent neglecting you of his love. Oh, you must have been so lonely without him. This is all he has wanted, after all. To take care of you. To take the weight off your shoulders and bring you ease like no other. He will spend the rest of his lifetime making up for the lost time. He would spend forever for you, slaving away to earn your forgiveness.

When you firmly establish what it is you actually want, no amount of sleeping pills in your thermal cup could stop you from seeing how defeated he is. Your rejection cuts like a dagger. Anyone can see this genuine fact. Still, Mike abides by your request. He'd tear mountains asunder for your happiness, after all.

Begrudgingly, he leaves your side. He opens the enclosure with struggle. Too many notches and slots. When he takes Mr. Cupcake into his hands, the iguana squirms and twists. Almost as if the reptile grasped what was happening. He propels his tail like a whip, reaching for the hands around him with his sharp teeth. His nails dig into whatever part of this stranger he can find.

When Mike plops him into your lap, Mr. Cupcake relaxes instantaneously. You snuggle him into your arms and are provided comfort from him, as well. His scaly flesh and jagged spine abrade your face, but you have never known a more soothing embrace. You plant a myriad of kisses and adoring nuzzles on Mr. Cupcake's skin. At the same time, you ignore the third wheel standing there.

Mike watches this and is nearly sick with want. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd wish to be an iguana this bad. The things he would give and the things he would take to be on the receiving end of your affections bridges off insanity.

Averting his gaze, he cannot watch the scene anymore. He had never expected to be so envious of a goddamn reptile. Mike grants you the time you want with that prickly bastard and leaves the basement. You hear the tumultuous clatter of all the locks and bolts being put into place once he is gone.

The time without Mike is something you do not take for granted. Silence is precious, solitude even more so. During his absence, you reel through the supercut of your life. You cannot find this man in any of your memories. You do not remember that face no matter how hard you try. He is the bad guy, the villain. The very definition of 'stranger-danger' you teach your students about.

When Mike returns, all of that disturbed turbulence comes with him.

In his hands is a cracked dinner plate with spaghetti and meatballs splat on top. The closer he gets, the faster your heart pumps. Setting the plate down on the bedside table, he takes your iguana from your tight hold. Mr. Cupcake still thrashes in his grasp, trying to bite and hit wherever he can. Good boy.

When the beast is locked away, Mike is idyllic to be alone with you again. He acts as though the current circumstances were romantic, where you and him are enjoying an amorous vacation. He then places the meal carefully in your lap, wary of the hot plate burning your precious skin.

"You need to eat, cub. You've been through so much. Too much." Mike's hand finds your face again, thumb caressing your cheek.

His mere words make you want to vomit your breakfast all over what is supposed to be your dinner. Still, you obey and begin eating. The dish is mediocre, at best. You've tasted better from the kitchen play set where your students wear chef hats and cook plastic food. Kidnapped and trapped in a basement, however, you'll take whatever scraps you can get.

Eyes glued to your plate, you do not watch as Mike takes a movie from the cabinet and pops it into the VCR. "The Immortal and the Restless" whirs to life as he returns to where you sit. Mike lays down beside you and joins you beneath the warm comforter. He takes the fork from your hands. A shiver cascades up his arm upon the faint contact made by your fingers touching. Oh, it is love. He then begins to feed you. There is nothing but sugary madness in his eyes.

Bite by bite, you are forced to watch soap operas and listen to nauseating love declarations.

"I was so alone out there without you, baby."

If only you hadn't been so fooled by a security vest and pretty brown eyes, you could be with your students right now. You could be free right now.

If only.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT

MAYBE YOU'LL COME BACK AROUND . . . ❞

no one asked for this but idc hehe.

gif creds :: mike.

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shares-a-vest · 5 months

Text

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and –

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #healing steddie #stranger things s4 #lily writes a fic #fluff and angst #cw injury #steddie fanfiction

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Text

Giving You Gifts

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: A look at how much Azriel loves to shower you with gifts (especially when he can’t see you)

Warnings: none

Azriel has a taste for extravagant items, especially if it’s something he wants (or you)

Knows your style/all your favorite things

He sends flowers to be delivered at work for you (just to piss off your boss and show that if he makes you mad/upset he will have Azriel to deal with)

The flowers Azriel usually sends you are large, colorful bouquets and are always different

Some of them include colors of your favorite paintings

You sometimes forget about the weekly flower delivery, especially when you get busy. But Feyre always remembers. She says it’s the highlight of her week because of how nervous Gavin gets

Every once in a while when Az asks you about your day you’ll mention getting your nails done or something you wanted to buy after work or what you were craving for lunch/dinner. Azriel will send you money, like more than you need for what you were buying, and he always adds cute little notes with smiley faces. He also sends money just bc

His lil messages are: “just bc I love you 💕” “get us matching Stanley’s baby” “for a book spree you deserve it :)”

With jewelry, Azriel is very selective. He doesn’t want to get you anything too big or flashy that you wouldn’t wear it

So it’s usually dainty but expensive

He wouldn’t get you rings though, only necklaces, bracelets, and earrings

Az wants the first ring he gives you to be your engagement ring 😌

You go to parties with Az and he always wants you to feel like you for in with his crowd of people

He felt guilt the first time he invited you and you had a break down over what to wear so now he always makes sure you get a new dress/outfit for any occasion whether it be a party or just going out to dinner

Before a date he always texts you that he can’t wait to see you (even if you just saw him that morning)

He also sends a mini bouquet of roses before a date

When he picks you up he never shows up empty handed

Azriel either has another extravagant gift or just a small thing he saw and thought of you

After a date night Azriel skips dessert at the restaurant and takes you to your favorite ice cream place

Azriel hates when work gets in the way of seeing you. But he knows he has an obligation to fulfill and unfortunately you have to come second sometimes

Azriel always makes up for when he can’t see you due to a work trip

Of course he sends you stuff but he likes to focus on quality time with you

If he could he’d keep you in bed for a week straight he would but you’d yell at him

But he makes sure to pay extra attention to you and put work down when he hasn’t seen you for a week or so

Az definitely does those just because baskets with little gifts

The first time you stay over night at his house he makes a little basket for you full of all of your essentials (so you can have them at his place now), new PJ’s, a blanket for the both of you, and snacks

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel au #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel headcanons

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katzuk1s · 1 year

Text

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18+ mdni

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thinking about giving inexperienced virgin! Bakugou head for the first time on his birthday

TW: oral (male receiving), swearing ofc, praise kink, fem!reader

3.0k words

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You and Katsuki had been in a relationship for a time now, about 2 months since his 'confession' (he shoved some flowers in your face and warned you to be his valentine or else) and yet you two had scarcely done anything together. Don't get me wrong, you spend every waking and sleeping minute with him; movie evenings, sleepovers, dates at anything challenge-based so he can show you how strong he is; but...you haven't done anything with him. Sexual, that is. Sure, you two have kissed, on the occasion his lips would move down to your neck, licking and marking a few small areas on your neck just to show you’re his in front of the class—but he's never gone further than that. You both haven’t, if we are being honest. You’ve both been too nervous, I guess? Or it's just never really been a priority on katsukis list—or that's what you thought.

You are both oblivious to what the other is thinking. Katsuki doesn’t notice how much you stare at him when he gets out of the shower, his towel hanging around his waist as your eyes drift down; and even if he does, he convinces himself that he’s getting ahead of himself—just seeing things. You don’t notice the constant glances katsuki sneaks at you when you are wearing his shirt, which is 10x bigger than you, hanging loosely down to your thighs which you wear as pajamas along with some shorts or just panties. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to have his 3rd shower of the day after he looks down to see the bulge in his pants—which 9/10 times leads to him covering his mouth with one hand as the other strokes himself as the water drips down his bare body, trying his hardest to keep the noise down so you don't suspect anything.

As katsukis birthday comes along, you do everything you can possibly do to make it the best birthday hes ever had. It’s his first birthday with you as his girlfriend, so you feel its your responsibility to treat him—not that you mind. You get him the perfect gifts—a black tshirt with his favorite band on it, some of his favorite cologne that hes nearly out of, a limited edition all might figure which you had to hide from izuku up into the day, you know that fucker would try to steal it if you left it out, and finally a basket of his favorite foods, and of course 3 bottles of sirachi sauce.

You prepare a complete bacon and egg breakfast for him and serve it to him in his room when you go out into the dorm kitchen to prepare it. He'd rather stay in his dorm than deal with the rest of the class this early in the morning.

For lunch, you get Aizawa to excuse you two so you can go to your favourite restaurant, where you treat Katsuki to whatever he wants on the menu despite his protests, saying he can pay for it—you don't let him, of course.

And finally, the surprise party. Katsuki hates parties, it’s pretty obvious from how many times he’s stomped out at the sight of one balloon; but the whole class wanted to celebrate, so you just went along with it—how much harm could it do? You could always have a quiet night after.

“You think he knows?” Denki whispered in the dark. You were all hidden down in your specified spots as you waited for katsukis return into the dorm lounge where everyone had set up streamers, balloons along with his favourite foods and a special cake made by sato.

“Nah, I’ve been distracting him all day, he will have no idea” you reply.

“Perfect” denki whispers back, a shit eating grin on his face as he holds a party popper in his hand, which you can only guess he will pop right in katsukis face. Rest in peace denki.

You are cut off as the door opens.

“The fuck? Why’re all the goddamn lights off huh?” You hear a raspy voice mumble from down the stairs. You have to stop yourself from chuckling as you cover your mouth to not make a sound.

“Got a power outage or something? Maybe nezu forgot to pay the fuckin’ power bills again” the same voice mumbles as you hear footsteps heading up the stairs, slowly until you hear a loud crashing and cursing.

“GOD DAMMIT, DUNCE FACE DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS? YOU WANNA WATCH ME STRUGGLE YOU BASTARD?!” Katsuki yells as he starts to trample up the stairs faster, until he gets to the top to see some faint balloons in the darkness.

“The fu-“

“SURPRISE!!” The whole class yells as momo turns the lights on, revealing everyone and the decorations. Katsukis eyes widen and he grumbles, turning around straight away.

“Hell no, i ain’t doing this shit-“

“Wait!! Could you please stay for a few minutes, it took us a long time to set this up? Please? I promise we can have a nice night together afterwards" you glance up at katsuki with your most dolly eyes—katsuki grumbles again and looks down, shuffling his feet across to the party, unable to resist your sweet tone and precious gaze.

“Fine. But i ain’t staying f’ long, got it?"

“Kacchan! "How are you doing, my bestest bro in the entire world?" Denki says as he drapes an arm around Katsuki, which is quickly swatted away.

"The fuck does it mean to you?" He mumbles as he pushes away and makes his way to the food.

As the night goes on, katsuki begins to moan and groan more to you, saying he can't bear being around these fuckers any longer and that he simply wants to sleep. You sympathise with him, but you also want to enjoy the time you have with the entire class, which happens on a very rare occasion without a big fight breaking out or a villain attacking. After the cake has been served and eaten, you all find yourselves sitting or lounging on the couch, the floor, or even the tables, joking with one another. You sit on the couch next to katsuki, your head on his lap, looking up into his eyes and casually responding to whatever conversation is going on.

“We should totally play truth or dare!” Mina suggests, her tone deathly sweet.

“Hell yeah! Let’s get this party started!” Sero and the other classmates agreed, katsukis eyes rolling at the suggestions.

“Don’t have time for your shitty games”

“Come on ‘suki! It will be fun! It’s late start tomorrow, we have time” you say, reaching up to gently caress his cheek before standing up and heading over to where everyone is sitting in a circle on the floor, patting the spot next to you for katsuki to sit.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” he mumbles under his breath before reluctantly sitting down next to you.

“You know, i'm still convinced you’ve put him under some sort of spell, I’ve never seen him so agreeable” izuku jokes, smiling widely as per usual.

“I'VE ALWAYS BEEN AGREEABLE YOU DAMN DEK- IZUKU” katsuki barks at izuku before huffing and leaning back.

“Yeah yeah, let’s get on with it, things are about to get in-ter-est-ing!” denki accentuates, smirking at katsuki. Has he planned something or..?

The game goes back and forth between truths and dares among everyone, until it finally lands on katsuki.

“Now, for the birthday boy! Truth or dare?” Denki asks, sneaking looks at the other classmates suggestively.

“Tch, dare obviously. I ain’t no pussy.” katsuki replies, sighing in boredom.

“I dare you…to show us your text messages between you and y/n!” Mina yells excitedly, leaning into katsuki.

“The fuck?! Why should I do that?!” He yells in surprise, backing away from Mina.

“Got something to hide? I thought you weren’t a pussy huh?” Denki says before snatching katsukis phone.

“GIVE THAT- I'M NOT NO PUSSY, GO AHEAD SHIT FACE”

The class crowds around denki as he scrolls through the messages, but to their dismay, all they saw was just messages asking about each other's day, good night messages, the occasional random photo, but.. that's it.

“Are you guys even together? Where’s the spicy stuff?” Sero whines, snatching the phone as he scrolls back further.

Before they can do any more, katsuki snatches his phone back and shoves it in his pocket.

“You ain’t gonna find any of that dumb shit, no point looking, idiots” he barks out before huffing and looking over at you, leaning in a little closer to calm himself down.

“So you’re telling me…there’s nothing. You guys are no fun!” Denki huffs before looking over at you.

“Mina, you wanna ask y/n now? I’ve had enough asking”

“Yeah! I have a few ideas…y/n, truth or dare?”

“Umm…truth!” You say enthusiastically, leaning over and resting your head on katsukis shoulder as you look over at Mina.

“Have you guys done it?” She says in a low tone, making sure any teachers crossing by wouldnt be able to hear her.

Both you and katsuki tense up before heat rises to both of your cheeks. A long line of silence comes before mineta pops out of nowhere and leans in close to you.

“Yeah! Have you guys done it yet? What was she like bakugou? Was she-“ mineta was cut off by katsuki picking him up and throwing him over to the other couch far away from them before he could say anymore.

“Well? Have you?” Sero pipes up and you look over at Katsuki before slowly shaking your head.

“O-of course we haven’t-! We have only been together for two months i-“

“YOU STILL HAVEN’T AFTER TWO MONTHS?” Denkis eyes look like they have popped out of his head as he switches his gaze between the two of you.

Katsuki stays quiet as he looks away, his face dusting a light shade of pink.

“ I have an even better question!!” hagakure pipes in.

“Do any of you want to? Like have you thought about it?”

“Ooo, good question! So, have you?” Mina asks, buzzing with excitement.

“W-well..i..i-i” you stutter, face flushing with heat as you look over at katsuki to see his face even more red, which makes you even more flustered.

“I-its only fuckin’ natural, what, do you expect us to not think of this k-kinda shit or something? Idiots..” katsuki mumbles under his breath, his voice quivering slightly. Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession. He’s thought about you like that? You would never have expected..unless you were just so oblivious you never noticed…

“So you have!! Ha! I knew it! You do have a heart down there kacchan!” Denki jokes, the rest of the class chuckling along with him, causing Bakugou to huff before standing up, grumbling as he walks away back to his dorm.

“Well.. I guess he’s a bit tired, i’m gonna head off to sleep too. Thanks for helping me set up the party guys! I'll see you in class tomorrow.” You say with a smile, your face still pink as you slink off to katsukis dorm, following him in.

You get dressed into one of his shirts along with your panties before heading into his bed, taking in his scent on his pillows. He comes out a little after you, dressed in a black tank top and some black sleeping pants before laying down in bed next to you.

“Well that was fuckin’ tiring. It’s already 12:38 in the morning..way past my bedtime.” He mumbles the last sentence under his breath, his voice trailing off.

You snuggle into him, your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and your arm slinked across his waist, his toned abs prominent under the material.

You both lay there for a while in silence, enjoying each other's presence. But that one conversation between denki and katsuki is still on repeat in your mind. Does katsuki really think about you like that? Does he want more? Does he..like thinking about me like that?…

Your thoughts eventually become unbearable and before you can think it through, a question slips out.

“Is what you said to denki true?..do..you think about me like that?” You mumble under your breath, half hoping that katsuki was already asleep and not hearing you talk—but unknown to you, katsuki was going through the exact same conversation; the way your face turned a bright red as soon as denki brought it up, your cute little stuttering as you tried to find the right answer.

“…yeah…don’t…you?” He says quietly, avoiding your gaze.

You hesitate before answering.

“ yeah..I’ve..I’ve been thinking about it for a while..”

“You have?” Katsuki answers, his voice laced with surprise. Yeah, he can’t help feeling those emotions towards you, but the fact that you felt those too? Fuck, it was too much for him.

You simply nod, staying silent.

“What…what do you think about?” He asks, playing with your hair with his fingers trying anything to distract himself from the conversation.

Your face heats up and you nuzzle your face even more into his neck.

“W-well..i..i think about you..doing certain things with me..” you whisper timidly, looking down.

Katsukis breath hitches. Such a simple, innocent sentence can even knock him down just like that. He feels his pants tightening slightly and he huffs.

“I..think about..what i wanna do to you..” he says, his voice quivering slightly.

“Y-you ever..touch..yourself while you think about that?”

Katsuki can feel his bulge painfully tugging against the material of his pants at this point, his breath uneasy.

“Y-yeah..” he stutters. “You?”

You nod again in reply, your whole body quivering slightly from anticipation.

You reach over, taking your hand away from his waist when it brushes over his bulge and he gasps quietly.

“Are you..hard..’suki?”

You reach down again and brush your fingertips over his clothes bulge again and he bucks his hips up, desperate for your touch.

“D-don't..fuckin’ tease me..” he manages to stutter out, trying to calm himself.

You look into his eyes lovingly before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Do..you want me to..um..suck you off?” You suggest, your voice trailing off as you look away, unable to meet katsukis piercing gaze.

Katsukis mind swirls as he hears you suggest that, and he nods quickly.

“If you are ready for that..then fuck yeah..”

You take no time to lean down and kiss him gently, but before long the kiss starts to heat up, katsukis tongue swirling around yours as you fiddle to lift off his singlet. Once it’s off you take a moment to take in the sight in front of you. Katsuki, there in front of you laying down, puffing as his bare chest rises and falls. You duck down and bring your tongue down to his neck, placing gentle kisses and marks here and there, before trailing your lips down to his nipples, swirling your tongue around them. As you do this, katsuki quickly brings his hand to your head, his hand gripping your hair firmly as he pants.

“Mmphh…fuck..”

He groans, tilting his head back on his pillow.

“Can i..?” You ask sweetly, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He quickly nods, bringing his head back up so he can see your every move, taking a point to remember this moment.

You tug down his pants, revealing the fact that he has no boxers or underwear underneath, his shaft springing free. Your breath hitches at the sight. How is that gonna fit in you one day? Sure you have tried your fingers but that? That’s like your whole hand!

Katsuki notices your wide eyes and hesitation and he smirks confidently.

“Something on your mind?” He says suggestively, looking down at you with half lidded eyes.

“You are so fucking hot..”

“I know, idio- h-hah!” Katsuki gets cut off by the feeling of your warm tongue on his tip, swirling around and licking off any extra pre-cum. He throws his head back, with one hand gripping your hair tightly and the other covering his mouth as he groans.

“can..can you take your hand away? I wanna hear you..” you ask timidly before starting to take his tip into your mouth.

“F-fuckin’ fine..if anyone hears us im blaming it on you- hnngh!” He groans as you start to take more of him into your mouth, struggling to fit it all in. As you stop halfway down on his shaft, katsuki starts to softly thrust his hips up into your mouth shallowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way, but at the same time get the pleasure he needs. You moan into his cock , sending vibrations down his length, causing him to audibly moan.

“S-so..warm..tight..so much better than my hand..” he pants, tilting his head down again so he can look at you, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“You alright? Tap..my leg if you need a break..youre doing so..m-mmph! So good f’ me..” he praises, thrusting deeper and deeper down your throat each time. It’s uncomfortable, but not so bad you can’t bear it. Man, you are so turned on you can barely even notice any discomfort anymore.

Katsukis grip on your hair gets tighter and he starts to thrust quicker and more sloppily.

“‘M c-close..fuck im so close..you wanna..f-fuck! You wanna pull off?” He asks between pants, looking into your eyes reassuringly.

You keep going, this time bobbing your head up and down to indicate that he can cum inside. His breathing becomes faster and his moans become louder as he does one final thrust, shoving himself down your throat as warm liquid pours out.

You pull away and cough slightly before swallowing, taking every last drop of what he gave you. As you look up at him, you take a mental picture of what you see. There he is again, His head thrown back, hand covering his mouth as sweat soaks his toned bare torso and arms. This was something you could get used to.

He looks down at you after catching his breath, you pulling up his pants again and helping him get on his singlet before nuzzling up into him once again, feeling his chest rising and falling against your cheek.

“best fuckin’ birthday ever”

#bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x y/n #bnha smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #oneshot #bakugo smut

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Batting Practice Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love how excited Bradley and Everett are for the Tiny Eagles' final game, and you can't wait to show Bradley the surprise you have planned for him. With an undefeated season and the title of Coaches of the Year on the line, you and Molly cheer for the boys with everything you have.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

On Saturday morning, before the sun was even up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and whispering, "I'll see you at the game, Kitten." He had been spending more nights at your house than his own apartment, and every time he had to go back to his place to get fresh clothes or do laundry, he kind of hated it.

As he climbed out of your bed and put on yesterday's clothing, you reached for him, and he gave you a proper kiss. "See you in a few hours," you mumbled before rolling over and going back to sleep. Ten weeks. He had only known you and Everett for ten weeks, but he was so in love with you and your son and your little house and everything about you.

With a sigh, he grabbed his hat and his wallet and headed outside, locking up behind himself as he went. He had been doing the sneaking in late and sneaking back out early routine on occasion, not wanting Everett to feel like Bradley was taking over his house. But every time he was there, he felt like he belonged with the two of you.

The school year was wrapping up for Everett, but Bradley had enjoyed working on math and reading homework at the kitchen island. He enjoyed tossing a baseball around your front yard. Every time he left, he wanted to go back.

He ran a load of his laundry while he ate breakfast in his sparse kitchen. Today was the last tee ball game, and he couldn't believe it was less than three months ago that Bob had been practically begging Bradley to help him with the Tiny Eagles in the first place. What if he had said no? He didn't even want to think about that. And as of right now, his team was undefeated, thanks in large part to you and Everett and how much fun Bradley had been having.

As he pulled on his coach's jersey and grabbed his blue hat and whistle, he silently hoped his team would win their last game, because he knew how happy that would make Everett. And if he and Bob won coaches of the year, he'd give his trophy to Everett to add to the collection of baseball items in his bedroom.

When Bradley parked at the field a little bit early, nobody else was there yet, not even Bob. He had noticed that Bob had been cutting it a little close the past few games and practices, showing up barely on time, looking a little disheveled with a smiling Molly in tow. It took all of Bradley's willpower not to rib Bob too hard about it, because his fellow aviator turned crimson every time. But Molly could take the trash talk like a pro, which Bradley already appreciated about your sister.

And ever since Bradley had gotten a glimpse of the diamond rings that the jeweler had on display, he couldn't help but think that things with you were moving too fast and still too slow at the same time. So he fought the urge to max out his credit card, but he was still thinking about what kind of ring you would like.

"Coach Bradley!"

He looked up to see Sandra and Henry rushing toward him with two gigantic gift baskets. She was wearing practically no clothing, and he was agitated that she had been able to corner him. "Hey, Henry! Sandra." He patted Henry on his shoulder, and then Sandra was in his personal space, handing him one of the baskets that was filled with so much random shit. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to sidestep her hand as it found his arm.

"You're so welcome. This season has been fantastic, all thanks to you and Bob," she purred. "I'm just hoping I can get Henry on your team for the fall league. And I'm hoping you'll choose me to be Team Mom next time."

Bradley rubbed his mustache. He'd been thinking about coaching again, even going so far as to considering becoming a head coach. He and Bob could have teams that went against each other, and Bradley thought that might be a lot of fun. "Thanks, Sandra. And you know what, that's a great idea. Since I'm dating our Team Mom now, it would probably be a conflict of interest if I chose her again in the fall."

The sour look on her face as Bradley noticed Bob's truck pull into the parking lot followed by your car had him smiling a little bit as he waved back to Everett who was waving wildly through the open window. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he headed for your car. Hadn't he just seen you a few hours ago? Been in your bed with your arms around his neck, felt your soft breaths on his cheek?

"Fuck," he gasped, jogging up the hill with his gift basket, antsy to get to you. When you climbed out of your car, he set the basket on your roof and kissed you hard.

"Ew!" Molly gasped as she climbed out of Bob's truck.

But you just smiled and said, "I like it when you wear your hat backwards."

"Why do you think I keep doing it?" he asked softly, and you bit your lip as you glanced back at the gift basket.

"Something to remember Sandra by?" you asked with an eye roll. "I'll give you a better thank you gift later, Coach."

"Oh, I can't wait," he mumbled, kissing your forehead as Ev climbed out of your backseat. "Hey, Kiddo! Last game. Are you excited?"

"Yes!" he said, jumping up to high five Bradley before running over to Bob as well. "If we win today, then that means our team is the best one!" Bradley watched Everett bounce around between Bob and Molly as you chucked the gift from Sandra onto your passenger seat.

"Hey, careful, Kitten. There might be something good in there."

You rolled your eyes and closed your door, and Bradley laced his fingers through yours. "Yeah, I saw a Starbucks gift card. It's mine now."

"Whatever you want," he whispered, running his thumb along your ring finger. The kids were starting to warm up with Bob, and Molly had secured a good spot on the bleachers. "I'll see you after the Tiny Eagles go undefeated for a perfect season."

You kissed him hard and then, when Bradley turned toward the other coaches, he felt you slap his ass. "You can do it, Coach Bradley! You're the best!" Then you turned innocently toward the bleachers and brightly said, "Hello, Sandra!" before continuing toward your sister.

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"It's the tight, white pants that made me do it," you whispered to Molly as she shook with laughter. "I was helpless to control myself."

"God, you're right," Molly sighed. "It's like... I never knew how badly I needed a man in a uniform. And I'm talking the flight suit, the khakis, and the tee ball getup."

You looked at Bob for a beat. "It's the glasses, Mo."

"The fucking glasses," she whined softly. She was going to move in with Bob next weekend after Everett's birthday baseball game.

You wanted to warn your sister that she was moving really quickly, especially for her, but you just couldn't. You thought she and Bob made a lot of sense, and you were happy for her. Bob was the perfect departure from the bad boys she usually went for. He kept turning to look at Molly as the game started, just like Bradley did with you.

"How did this happen?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know," you replied.

"I'm fully addicted to the pizza nights now, I hope you know that," she told you with a grin. "We can win any argument when Natasha is with us. It's literally perfect."

You loved the pizza nights, too. You loved the way Everett was always welcome on someone's lap. You loved how Bradley cut the pizza slices smaller for him. You loved how comfortable you felt. "It is perfect."

Molly cleared her throat just as Everett went up to bat. "Not to dampen the mood, but what did your lawyer say?"

You took a deep breath, but you found that it actually wasn't so hard to talk about. "I'm going to meet with them in person, but getting Danny's name off of Everett's birth certificate is going to be challenging. Would be easier if I were remarried and looking to have my spouse adopt him. But they are going to do some research about child support based on Danny's shitty income which I'm sure will make him rage at me again."

Molly hugged you tight. "I'm sorry this is happening."

You nodded, but you found that you didn't want to cry about it anymore. "Me too. But we'll continue to be better off without him, even if they can't make him pay."

Then you both jumped to your feet. "Go Ev!" Molly cheered as he hit the ball ridiculously far. He ran the bases as Bradley and Bob cheered him on. And the look of pure elation on Bradley's face as Everett crossed home plate and ran into his arms was going to stay with you forever.

"We're leading by one run now!" Molly was bouncing up and down.

Then it really hit you. "They're going to be undefeated, aren't they?" You felt kind of silly. It was just tee ball. But it had actually become really important to you and everyone around you.

"I think so!" Molly gushed as you both sat down and held hands through the final inning. And when the Tiny Condors were not able to tie the game, you felt tears in your eyes for a different reason as you smiled and ran down the bleachers toward Everett.

You scooped him up into your arms and squeezed him tight. "You're so good, Ev! I'm so proud of you!"

"Mommy! Aunt Molly! We won every game!"

"You sure did!" Molly told him, kissing his cheek before heading toward Bob. She made no secret of them being together as a moment later, you saw her hand slide up the front of his jersey as she kissed him.

Bradley was left to converse with the umpires, but his smile was huge when he finally turned your way. He high fived and hugged all of the Tiny Eagles, but he knelt in front of Everett and hugged him for a long time. And when they started to have a quiet conversation, you gave them a little space.

You hoped this meant that Bradley and Bob would both win awards at the league picnic tomorrow afternoon. You already had a treat planned for your boyfriend just in case, but you thought you could use it either way.

After Bradley kissed Everett's forehead, he stood and kissed yours as well. "Thanks for not pulling Ev from the team after I fucked up, Kitten."

You smiled up at him. "I didn't have the heart to do it. I'm glad I didn't."

"I love you. Let me buy you both some ice cream."

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

After Bradley offered to buy you and Everett a treat from the snack bar, you told him to take Everett to the bench and wait. You insisted you wanted to buy it. So Bradley gave him a piggyback ride over to the same bench where you and he had flirted relentlessly on your 'first date'. Bradley smiled just thinking about how he had answered your phone when Frank kept calling you nonstop.

Everett jumped down onto the bench, and Bradley sat next to him while you waved from the line. "Hey, kiddo?" he asked Everett after you blew him a kiss.

"Yeah, Coach?"

Bradley chuckled and looked at his excited face. "You can call me Bradley now. All the time. Tee ball is over."

"Okay," he replied, still all smiles from winning the final game.

Bradley cleared his throat and made sure you weren't on your way over yet. "Can you keep a secret from your mom? It's nothing bad or scary, I promise."

"Okay," he said again, nodding this time.

"What kind of ring did your mom used to wear? When she was married to your dad?"

Everett's little brow scrunched up as he gave Bradley a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Her wedding ring," Bradley told him quietly. "What did it look like?"

"Oh," he said, plopping down next to Bradley now. "She didn't have one."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "She never wore one?"

"Nope."

"Huh." Surely you must have had a wedding ring? Did Danny really not buy you a ring? "Ev, she never wore any rings? Not even a plain one?"

"Nope."

Bradley settled back against the bench, and stared off into space. He'd been thinking about it a bit, and he really wanted to make sure he didn't get you a ring that was similar to something you had worn from Danny. But if you never had one at all...

"Take it before it melts!" you said, laughing as you jolted Bradley from his thoughts. He grabbed one of the ice creams from your hands and quickly licked the sides before he helped Everett with his.

"Thanks, Kitten," Bradley told you as you went to sit on the other side of your son. "Are you excited for the picnic tomorrow?" he asked Everett.

"Yep! I'm going to get a trophy!"

"I think Bradley might be getting a trophy, too!" you added, licking your ice cream and winking at Bradley. He watched you eat with narrowed eyes as his own snack melted.

Bradley grunted. "Well, the most important thing is that I'm going to get you ready for real baseball in the fall. And the fact that San Diego has nice weather year round means that you'll probably get so good from practicing all the time that you'll be able to get a scholarship someday."

"What's a scholarship?" Everett asked as his ice cream dripped on Bradley's shoe.

"Ev," you mumbled and went to clean it up. But Bradley took your hand and guided you back to the bench with a shake of his head.

"It's fine, Kitten. It's just my shoe," he told you. And then he turned Everett's ice cream so it wouldn't keep dripping everywhere. "A scholarship is money that colleges sometimes give to athletes so they will come play sports for the school. Your mom would probably be delighted if you got one."

You laughed as you bit into your cone. "Would be nice. Lawyers are expensive," you muttered, leaning in to kiss Everett's cheek.

"You need to keep me in the loop when you do things like that," he told you, shooting you a no nonsense look.

"Okay," you whispered.

Once Everett had finished his ice cream and washed his hands, Bradley walked both of you back to your car. "Want me to pick you both up for the picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "Your car is fun!"

But once he was buckled in his booster seat, you pulled Bradley close and whispered, "I have something special for you, Coach." And Bradley audibly groaned as your hand came to rest on his cock, stroking him through his snug baseball pants. "Stay over tomorrow night?"

"Of course," he grunted next to your ear as you squeezed him gently. "Fuck."

You just giggled and said, "I think you'll love your surprise."

Then you backed out of the parking spot while Bradley stood next to his Bronco with a semi and waved like an idiot. He wasn't sure what kind of surprise you had in store for him, but he loved everything you did. And then he drove off in the opposite direction, back to the jewelry shop to pick up your necklace which the jeweler had needed to keep longer than anticipated. And he could also look at the rings some more.

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

"Where's Aunt Molly?" Everett whined as you sat with him on your lap on the crowded bleachers. All of the tee ball teams had been invited today, and there were so many people at the picnic.

"She's on her way from work, Ev. She should be here soon."

"What if she misses my trophy?"

"Then we'll have to show it to her when she gets here."

"What if she misses Coach Bob's trophy?"

You kissed his cheek and held him tighter. He was beyond excited that his coaches had been nominated for awards. "Then she can see Coach Bob's trophy later."

You laughed at the inadvertent dirty joke you just told, and then you saw your sister walking down from her car right as the ceremony started. She found a spot to stand off the side and waved at you. "Look, Aunt Molly's here. You feel better now?"

"Yep!" Everett told you as he waved to her as well.

You watched the third and second place teams get their medals, and when they called the Tiny Eagles up to collect their trophies, Everett ran up alongside Bradley and Bob. You took some pictures while you cheered. You were struck with a pang of sadness over the fact that Danny didn't want to be part of this. But then you saw Bradley pull Everett into a big hug as soon as he had his trophy in his hand.

Your son was happy all the time when he was around Bradley. He always seemed to provide Everett with love, attention, and comfort. And that was in addition to all of the fun they seemed to have together. You took another picture of them hugging, and then it was Bradley's turn for his award.

Bob looked so shy and hesitant as he thanked everyone for a great season, but when it was Bradley's turn, you couldn't stop smiling.

He gave all of the kids on the team a special shout out, and then he thanked the league for trusting that he and Bob could handle a team like this on their first try. And then you had to suppress your giggles as Bradley found where you were sitting on the bleachers and said, "And a big thank you to our Team Mom. None of this would have happened without her."

You waved down to them, and Everett, Bradley and Bob all waved back. Then Bradley was awarded his trophy and promptly handed it to Everett. "Seriously," Molly called out to you. "He's so much better than Danny."

"I know," you agreed, taking in the enormous smile on Everett's face as he ran to Molly. And then you were heading down the bleachers and into Bradley's arms.

"Hey, Kitten," he whispered, kissing your cheek as you laughed.

"Remember that day when you silently bullied me into agreeing to be the Team Mom?" you asked, looking up at him.

His grin and his backward hat looked exactly like they had that day as he said, "I sure do. God, I was so into you. I thought you must have been married though."

You buried your face against his chest and laughed. "The hot coach wanted me to be Team Mom? No way I wasn't raising my hand."

He kissed the top of your head and led you over to the picnic area where Everett was sitting with Molly, his grip on both trophies unrelenting. "Thanks for letting him hold that," you told Bradley.

But he just shrugged. "He can have it. I think he was more excited about me winning it than I was," he said with a laugh. "And I think I'm going to coach another tee ball team in the fall. I loved this."

Your heart swelled with love for him. "You should. You're good at it."

"Deployments will be hard to get around though," he whispered, kissing you on the head again. "Gonna be hard for us, too."

"Ev and I aren't going anywhere."

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

After the picnic, Bradley drove you both back to your house and helped a very sleepy Everett get a quick shower and get ready for bed. "Go relax, Kitten. I got this," he promised as Everett changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth.

You bit your lip and kissed Everett goodnight. Then you whispered, "Come find me when you're done," before you walked into your bedroom and closed the door, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He grunted, wondering if he was going to get the surprise you promised him. His mind was filled with dirty blowjobs and kitten costumes, and he had to take a deep breath as Everett crossed the hallway back to his bedroom in his baseball pajamas and climbed up into his bed.

"Have you thought about moving into the extra bedroom?" he asked with a yawn, and Bradley smiled as he pulled the covers up over him.

"Honestly, Kiddo? I think about it all the time."

"We should talk to my mom about it," Everett muttered as he rolled onto his side, already half asleep.

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, "we should." Then he straightened both trophies on Everett's dresser and turned off the lamp before leaving the room. But he thought that another level of commitment was definitely going to be necessary before he could move in here. He'd been thinking about it though.

But all thoughts simply vanished from his brain as he opened your bedroom door and saw you standing there next to your bed. A strangled sound escaped from the back of his throat as his jaw dropped open.

"You okay, Coach?" you asked teasingly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, hands planted on your hips.

"Kitten," he gasped, eyes going wider. "Baby."

You were wearing a tiny, skimpy red and white cheerleading uniform and holding red pom poms at your hips. The little pleated skirt barely hid anything from his view, and he could see your peaked nipples poking against the top.

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I heard you won Coach of the year. I'm so proud of you." You took a step closer to him, and he wasn't sure if his cock could actually get any harder than it was. You'd put on some red lipstick and some extra eye makeup, and you looked fucking hot. He was having a hard time speaking as he reached for you.

"This is for me?" he managed to ask as he pulled you against him and ran his hands along the little skirt. But you spun in his arms, and he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his groin as you rubbed your ass against him.

"For you." You looked back at him over your shoulder as he ran his hands down along your bare thighs.

"You look like one of the Phillies cheerleaders," he whispered in your ear.

"That's what I was going for," you gasped with a smile.

"My first crush was on the entire 1995 Phillies cheerleading roster."

"Why am I not surprised?" Your soft laughter had him bucking against your backside. He was completely ready to go.

"You like dressing up for me," he muttered as you spun to face him again.

You nodded and shook your pom poms as you shimmied for him. "Yeah, I do. I think you like it, too."

"That would be an understatement," he growled as your tits nearly bounced out of that tiny top. When he pulled you closer by your hips, you dropped the pom poms to the floor and reached for the fly of his pants, and Bradley leaned down to kiss you softly. "I love this."

You kissed him all over his lips and mustache and cheeks, and he was sure he had your lipstick everywhere, and he was so fucking turned on. And then you were in front of him on your knees, and his baseball pants and underwear were around his thighs. He quickly pulled his jersey and undershirt off as you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock and looked up at him as you took him inch by inch until he met the back of your throat.

"Yeah," he groaned. "Just like this. I'd jerk off thinking about those cheerleaders sucking my cock."

You moaned so loudly with him against the back of your throat that he had to bite his tongue against the urge to blow his load already.

"But you're so much better. My god." He was already panting as you withdrew him from your mouth. Your lipstick was on his cock now, but he barely had time to process anything before you were sucking on him again. He watched you, his actual fantasy come to life, as you gave him excellent head. When he ran his thumb along your cheek, he could feel his cock inside your mouth. He needed to stop you, because he desperately wanted to fuck you, but this felt too perfect.

But when you started running your fingernails along his balls, he pulled you up to your feet. You let out a startled laugh before he pressed his lips to yours. "I wanna fuck you," he managed between sloppy kisses as he grabbed at your bare backside with both hands.

You were moaning against his lips as his dick was poking into your belly. "Anything you want," you gasped, running your hands along his shoulders and pecs.

"Don't tell me that," he growled, picking you up as you squealed and getting you on your knees at the edge of the bed. "God damn. I want everything." You looked too good on your hands and knees, glancing back at him while your glistening pussy and ass were bare for him. He ran his fingers through your slick until you were moaning his name, and then he knelt and put his mouth on you as he used his hand to coat himself with your wetness.

"Coach!" you cried out as Bradley licked your pussy and kissed the backs of your thigh.

"You gotta be quiet, Kitten," he grunted, pushing your knees a little further apart as he lapped at you until you were bouncing back to meet his tongue. But you just got louder and louder, and when Bradley stood behind you and slid his cock inside, you nearly screamed.

"Bradley!"

"Shh." He tried his best to coax you to be quiet, but it didn't work until he clamped his left hand over your lips. "Baby, you can be as loud as you want when we're actually alone," he rasped, fucking you a little harder now. That little pleated red and white skirt brushed along your ass with each thrust, and Bradley wrapped his right hand around your waist, fucking you with deeper strokes.

Your muffled cries had him close now as he moved his hand to palm your ass. He'd have to consider buying you a gag of some sort, and that had him actually cumming inside your tight pussy.

"Fuck!" he grunted, letting go of your mouth and squeezing both of your ass cheeks as he fucked you until he was seeing stars. You just whimpered pathetically as you clenched around his softening cock. When Bradley pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest, he ran his hands up under your skirt and teased your clit, really making sure you felt good.

"Coach!" you gasped, still fluttering around his cock as he pressed his lips to your neck. When you moved his fingers from your pussy up to your lips, he nibbled along your bare shoulder. You sucked on each of his fingers before you asked, "Did you like this as much as the kitten costume?"

He groaned so loudly, you giggled. "Yes, this was just as good as the kitten. Don't make me choose one."

"You can have both," you promised, turning to kiss him as he withdrew his cock from your pussy and helped you to your feet.

He watched his cum drip down and coat your thighs as he whimpered for you. And then he remembered what was tucked inside his pants pocket. Carefully he pulled out your repaired necklace and held it out to you.

"Oh!" you gasped, reaching for it right away. "You fixed it!"

"Yeah," he whispered, kissing your parted lips. "Of course I did."

Once you had further examined it, you stared up at him with a look of awe. "It's better now," you told him, turning it over in your hand to inspect the engraving. One side of the paw print said Bradley and the other said Everett. He carefully clasped it around your neck before you wrapped your arms around his waist, and he just couldn't stop thinking about being here with you forever.

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

On Thursday, you were desperately trying to finish up for the day when another project got dumped on your desk. It was Everett's birthday, and you were hoping you'd be able to sneak out early and stop home to change before the Padres game. You started working on the new project before you decided to just say fuck it.

You turned your computer off an hour early and locked up your desk. You'd have time to change and meet everyone else at the ballpark since Everett was spending the day at the zoo with Molly. So you strolled to the elevator and then out to your car without a care in the world.

And that's when your phone rang. It was your lawyer. You stumbled to a stop in the parking lot as you accepted the call.

"A judge is not going to allow Daniel to sign away his rights. Not unless adoption becomes an option for your son. However, even when you acquire sole custody, which is basically a done deal, he'd still be required to pay you the child support he owes you, plus continue to pay in the future. Your ex husband would have one hundred and twenty days to try to dispute it. Would you like us to serve him with papers?"

Your heart was pounding as you played with the charm on your chain. You were beginning to feel like you had on your bathroom floor, short of breath and nauseous. "Can I think about it?" you asked softly. You didn't want to have to chase Danny for money. He would just make this as difficult for you as he could, and you didn't want to have to deal with him anymore at all.

"Of course. Take your time."

You ended the call and climbed in your car. Bradley had implored you to keep him updated with the information your lawyer was giving you. But there was just no way you'd be able to tell him all of this. It would be mortifying, admitting to your boyfriend that more than anything, you wanted to know if he'd ever marry you and adopt your child.

A pathetic sounding laugh bubbled out of you. No. You would just keep that information to yourself and decide if it was worth going after Danny at all. Because all you really wanted at the moment was your own name solely attached to Everett as his legal guardian. But that wasn't something you could have yet if at all.

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

Undefeated! Everett's birthday party is up next! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

Time to check out The Curveball for more of Molly and Bob!

PART 23

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cherrychilli · 1 year

Text

Minors DNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, P in V sex, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, public sex

Consider this: being Steve's "shy" girlfriend, all demure and unassuming to everyone else but that's not what you're really like. You're very much the opposite. Confident and just a little shameless when you're alone with Steve because he's the only one you feel completely comfortable with (not to mention he's the only one who makes you feel like a horny mess) But Steve's a sweetheart and a gentleman(and more than a little oblivious). Or at least he's trying to be but you make it nearly impossible for him to remain respectable with your many "subtle" advances.

Imagine testing his limits on a cute picnic date in a secluded little grassy clearing. The wind blowing up your pretty little sundress on occasion and you doing absolutely nothing to conceal your white lacy panties from his view as he's knelt down across from you, busy trying to set down a blanket. Of course he looks, eyes reflexively locking between your legs whenever your skirt billows out but he averts his gaze after a few seconds, mentally reminding himself that he shouldn't be ogling a sweet innocent thing like you.

You're pleased with the knowledge that a little glimpse of your underwear is enough to make his face flush the most adorable shade of red and render him a flustered, fumbling mess as he struggles to set up. But it isn't enough. You want to be held. touched. tasted. fucked.

You kneel facing Steve before bending over to pat the blanket down, appearing to be helpful. This time he can see right down the front of your low cut dress. No bra and one strap slipping down your shoulder. You peer up at him through your lashes, glossy lips stretching into a coy smile that ends up going unnoticed because he's taking in the sight of your necklace, the one he gifted you on your last date, glinting and dangling between your breasts. You're hoping it's enough to make him cave and meet you in the middle of the blanket. Make him inch closer until you can slant your lips over his but you're left wanting again when he pulls away, clearing his throat as he tries to occupy himself with the contents of the basket you packed for your trip and shield his growing boner.

You don't let it deter you for too long, intent on making it as hard as possible for your boyfriend to resist you much longer.

You try anything and everything to get the blood pumping straight to his cock, even if it seems a little ridiculous because it's just so much fun. You purposely let some of your water spill over the front of your dress so your nipples harden and show through the fabric, laughing it off with faux embarrassment when you exclaim, "oh no, I'm all wet!" and smirk to yourself with satisfaction when Steve chokes on his own water in response.

You follow that up later by letting your hands wander to dust the crumbs off Steve's thigh, intentionally skimming close to his crotch but its when you lick a stray dollop of jam off his finger that you can tell he's nearing his limit.

"Mm! Steve that tastes so good" you draw out in a tone that borders on lewd and he can't help it when he feels his cock kick up in response underneath his jeans.

"Picked a pretty great spot, didn't we?", he quickly attempts to distract himself with an abrupt change of topic but you sense another opportunity and reply just as quickly, "I know! it's so private, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I thought you'd prefer it because I know you don't like crowds", he replies a little weakly, throat starting to feel raw from all his nervous swallowing.

You smile softly at his thoughtful comment but continue with your plan to wear him down. "I love it! No one around to intrude or...interrupt. Just the two of us".

You shift beside him, encouraging his eyeline to fall on your cleavage again.

"Uh...yeah" he replies distractedly, eyes fixed exactly where you wanted them.

"Not like that time at the movies", you remind him, referring to the group of girls sat behind you two last week who talked over the movie and kicked at the back of your seats.

"Out here there's no one around to bother. We can make as much noise as we like", you raise your eyebrows at him.

He feels overheated despite the summer breeze blowing and he can't help but wondering if you realize how suggestive you sound right now. It's taking every bit of his resolve not to pull your dress down and have you laid out beneath him on the checkered blanket. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, failing to suppress the image of those lace trimmed panties around your ankle and your head thrown back as you puff and pant at the way he's stretching you open.

You sigh, it was fun teasing him and playing your little games but you can't ignore the wet heat pooling in your panties any longer. Dropping the façade, you straddle his lap and place both of your palms on either side of Steve's face, trapping his gaze with your own. He says nothing, only staring up at you with widened eyes, too taken aback by your sudden reaction.

"Stevie, do you like me?" you ask frankly.

"wh- of course!" he blurts out a little louder than he'd intended.

"Do you find me attractive?", you already know the answer to that given the obvious bulge you're currently sat on but you ask it more so in an effort to help him from holding back any longer.

"Baby, I think you're beautiful", he replies truthfully.

You smile down at him fondly and then with the same sweet expression you remove your hands from his face to pick up your skirt, giving him a clear and up close view of your underwear, material now translucent with your slick and staining the front of his jeans.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

He feels as if he might flatline. Having his sweet girl perched in his lap all wet and needy for him out here in the open, practically throwing herself at him all afternoon. Why the fuck hadn't he realized sooner?

"Yes- fuck, yes", he strains.

You let your skirt drop to wrap your arms around his neck, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper,

"Good. Because I want you to fuck me. Right here. Right now"

***

Rays of sunlight filter through the overhead trees down on to your exposed tits while Steve lifts the skirt of your dress up so he can watch his cock sink into your cunt with every frenzied bounce you can muster. He bunches the material in his hands, palms settling around your waist to force you down his length harder.

"Stevie, oh fuck- promise you wont make me wait this long again?" you mewl out, between choked sobs.

"Fuck, baby I promise", he grits out, lost to the feeling of your pussy squeezing around him and the sight of your cream coating his cock.

"You going to give it to me when I need it?", you whimper out desperately.

"Yes, angel- shit- I'm going to give it to you just how you need it, whenever you need it"

(I realize I wrote Steve as more reserved than I usually write him but there's just something about a flustered Steve that makes me want to ride the absolute fuck out of him)

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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matchesarelit · 6 months

Text

Imagine If You Will... Just Us (Lars Pinfield X gn!Reader)

Prompts: “I thought it was going to be just us today” from @pookie-and-cereal's list (here) AND #17, #28 and #30 from @thelonelyempath's list (here).

W.C: ~3k

Warnings: Gary gets typical 3rd wheel treatment, science flirting (it's real bad),

Coming back from Ray's, your arms were killing, turns out hiking over an hour over public transport with more than ten kilos of, for a lack of a better word, junk, was not the brightest idea. Lars had texted you late last night, gushing over the newest adaptions he'd make to the extractor; how much time was saved on every use, how low the resistance rate was etc.

So naturally, when he invited you to come in on the weekend to try it out, your reply could have broken the sound barrier, if it weren't a text that is. You weren't exactly in his realm in regards to ghostbusting science, now don't get me wrong you did ghost bust on occasion, but your main focus was on the PR end of Ghost Corps. Yes, it is a very stressful job. That being so, you weren't sure why he'd chosen to invite you, surely another scientist would be able to understand it better.

Well, who truly cares... you were getting the rare chance to witness his dorky joy and that was not something you were going to turn down.

Finally trudging in through the main doors, you let out a grievous grunt as you dropped the box of trinkets onto a nearby trolley. Tugging it along behind you as you made your way to the main lab, you waved as you always did towards the enclosed ghosts in the hallway. Finally setting sights on the elaborate workspaces of the many scientists that work crammed into the space, you allowed your smile to overtake your features, eager as always to see Lars in his natural environment.

You'd first met when you stated on the G.C PR team, you'd been eager to set up a web page for the Ghostbusters with a page profile for all involved scientists. Winston had had you meet them all here in the lab, Lars was one of the first you'd met and you'd gotten along immediately.

"Heyo! I think you're gonna have to send Ray a gift basket with the amount of stuff he gave us-" Your rattled-out greeting was cut short as your eyes fell on the pair of men huddled by one of the desks. As they turned to greet you, you felt your steps slow, the air felt dense against your movements. Lars had forced out a smile that had no hopes of reaching his eyes, while the man by his side, Gary Grooberson, seemed to be dripping in ecstatic energy as he jogged over to meet you by the steps.

As he lifted the front end of the trolley and helped you carry it down, your eyes fell back on Lars, he was once again facing away from you and he'd retreated to the large mechanical focus of your visit. His hands were busy doing, what even you could tell from across the room, was absolutely nothing.

Cutting your study short, Gary captured you in a hug, it was as it always is; warm and comforting and definitely more for him than it was for you. You had time and time again succeeded in putting a good spin on whatever ruckus his family had created, so he was by no means a new acquaintance, neither was his proclivity for hugs a surprise.

Gary's greeting however flew right past your ears, tearing your focus away from the man on the other side of the space was proving much too difficult. To your luck however, you managed a gentle greeting and casual inquiry of how his family was doing before a notable amount of time had passed.

With a conscious effort you set your eyes on Gary, resolved to focus on the conversation at hand, the man before you was a friend after all. As the conversation continued, small updates about how the Spenglers and co were doing outside of the ghost busts filled the next half hour, before the dialogue began to stall.

Until, Gary, ever the extrovert, started to rifle through the box you'd brought in,

'So, are you as excited for today as I am? It sounds like Lars has been making absolute leaps and bounds with this stuff.'

Now, you wouldn't say you were projecting your voice when you spoke up, nonetheless, it definitely wasn't a normal speaking level. 'Yeah! I can't wait to see what he's been up to...' You trailed off as you glanced towards where Lars still stood, his back to the two of you but his hands had now stilled in place, a change you all but reveled in.

Lars wasn't a guy who enjoyed being alone all to much, you'd been able to gather as such within moments of meeting him. Luckily, that first time, you'd caught him on a good day; when talking about his work, rather than doing it, was pretty much exactly what he wanted to do. He'd tried to come across as a sort of stoic and while it was clear he did enjoy the solitude, the way he interacted with his peers made it crystal clear how much he also enjoyed such conversations.

That was part of why his actions today seemed so strange... You weren't exactly his peer as a scientist, but you knew enough about ghosts and he'd shared similar achievements with you in the past, not to mention the fact that he, himself, had invited you here only last night.

As for Gary, he was a scientific man himself, so why the Lars wasn't chatting happily with him about the newest changes to the mechanism was a mystery to say the least.

You'd hate to admit it, although it wasn't hard to notice by any means, you'd obliviously thought it was just going to be the two of you. So it took some quick metal re-wiring upon realizing you wouldn't just be able to fawn so freely over the unsuspecting scientist as you often did.

In that moment you'd felt bad, noting that both of you were acting strange and that that couldn't have been too fun for Gary.

Although... you considered perhaps Lars was simply overthinking his progress, now that his audience was present. Maybe he just needed a little push to start, like one of those old timey planes.

'Lars' Your call cracked through the silence of the facility, your voice finally tugging the man in question to turn on the spot. 'Come on Science-man, show us what you've got!'

He shook his head slightly in a sort of incredulity as he turned back around, your shoulders fell slightly, but only momentarily as his voice soon bounced around the room.

'Come on then'

Your eager smile reappeared on your face as you beelined towards the large prism like container in the middle of the workplace, where he stood hitting, what you could only assume, were the start up buttons. Your eyes on him, and his eyes on the machine -with you safely in his peripherals- Gary was left to wheel over the box of supplies. His mumblings of something about third wheeling and losing his phone, all but faded to oblivion in your focus.

Stepping back from the small panel and towards yourself and Gary, Lars seemed to pause for a moment, glancing once between you and his chair that sat empty by the control screen. You brushed off the look he'd given as he began to speak, as a mutual offer between him, yourself and Gary, You'd chosen consciously however, to not plop down in it yourself.

Strangely, claiming his seat whenever he stood from it, felt like something you could only do in private, although it usually occurred when ten or so other scientists also occupied the space. You suppose, sitting there; your head in your hand, as you gawk up at him was a lot more obvious when the only other person in the room would be standing mere feet away.

Whilst you turned your own thoughts over in your head, Gary had taken the chair for himself, muttering out a cheeky, 'ya snooze ya lose'. While you were still mulling things over, Gary caught what you didn't; a flash of a glare passing over Lars' features as he paused his explanation.

Choosing to remain comfy, Gary shot the younger scientist a simple smile, before tilting his head in your direction. With one look to you, your in-your-head state was obvious and Lars was talking a step towards you, your name a whisper on his lips.

Snapping out of your thoughts, and meeting his eyes, you immediately rushed out an apology running shaky hands down your face as you promised to listen closely.

From there it was somewhat business as usual, Lars went about explaining his changes, with yourself, and Gary, asking prompting questions every once and a while. You'd resolved to simply enjoy his company as you usually would, extra company be damned. Sorry Gary.

Gaping up at him in the way you always did, you were yet again in awe of Lars. The way his eyes shone a little brighter when the machine worked perfectly and how he would always look eagerly to you a soft smile on his face. Ghost by ghoul, the three of you went about testing for a while, with Lars occasionally ducking his head towards the wiring or control panel to make some small adjustment, only to return with a beaming smile when the following test went by even faster.

Watching him work was always enjoyable. He was always either grinning like a fool or he had that small frown and furrowed brow that graced his features in a moment, usually quite brief, of struggle. All the same, even that echo of a scowl wasn't enough to diminish the glow you swore he gave off. Today was slightly different, there was no lab coat in sight, his goggles hung loosely around his neck and the top half of his jumpsuit had been tied 'round his waist. He seemed relaxed, at least if you ignored the tension that seemed to be holding his body together.

'Amazing' your murmured comment, and the countless like it, were more about him than his machine and whenever you caught his eyes with your own, you hoped he could see that. Gary, on the other hand was completely enthralled by the testing, rattling off compliments of his own with much higher frequency, mentions of the 'stellar efficiency' and 'innovative programming' which, I'm sad to say, went in one ear and out the other. Except, for when he managed to interrupt you in the midst of his enthusiasm, at which point he was met with yet another brief glare from the man of the hour.

The setting sun that bathed the three of you in warm tones of orange and yellow took you by surprise, and a quick glace to the box by your side revealed you had powered through more than three quarters of your supplies. You felt your shoulders fall considerably at this thought, now achingly aware you'd be expected to leave somewhat soon. Shocking you from your melancholy was the loud ring of Lars' phone, some 8-bit version of the Ghostbusters theme you'd set up on his phone some time ago, echoing about the space.

He hurriedly excused himself, and unwitting as usual your eyes lingered on the doorway he'd left through. Until a clambering of legs swung into your own, following them with an eyebrow raised you met Gary's stare as his own eyebrows wiggled fancifully. 'Soooo... I'm gonna get going, Callie just texted-' Catching him in a squinted glare you doubted '-didn't you say you'd lost your phone?'

'um-uh, okay so I'm just a little aware that you guys want to be alone.' His tone was anything but unsure, nevertheless he seemed hesitant to voice his concern.

'No don't go, I'm sorry I-I know I get a bit absorbed seeing him work, but he wants you here!' You'd felt horrible, you weren't aware how obvious you'd been.

'Its okay, I know you didn't mean to... Also I highly doubt Lars is all that happy about me being here.' You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head simply as he continued. 'Winston invited me after Lars let him know he'd be here today, He didn't know until I got here and that half an hour before you arrived was tense enough.'

You supposed he was right, Lars had seemed pretty off earlier, but surely it wasn't that deep that Gary should leave. 'That's silly though, you're a scientist, if anyone is annoying him by hanging around surely its me... I mean I was asking all those inane questions.'

Your concern was met with the most well meaning, yet still a bit of a brush-off, cackle you'd heard from him, 'Except every one was met with a soft explanation and a confirmation that you understood, which wasn't exactly the response I've been getting. I doubt today was meant to be about the science as anything more than as a justification for inviting you over.'

Your brow furrowed at that, yourself and Lars had hung out before, you supposed it wasn't too frequently and it was usually a work outing where the two of you peeled off for a bit. Even so, why would he feel like he had to justify inviting you over?

'But we're friends, he knows he doesn't have to-' you stopped yourself as his footsteps reverberated through the halls, growing closer by the second.

Mid-way through turning your head to catch the doorway, Gary darted out of his chair. Stealing back your attention as he addressed yourself and you supposed lars, who you could imagine had stopped, lingering at the end of the hall at the other man's outburst. 'I've gotta get going, great seeing you guys... Good luck with the rest of the testing...' He was backing away now, towards the entryway, maneuvering around stray chairs and tables as he went. With a final flourish of a finger gun in Lars' direction, he was crossing the threshold and calling back over his shoulder. '...Not that you need it!'

You found yourself scoffing in disbelief as you continued to watch as the doors swung closed with a slam. Slowly turning on the spot you set sights on Lars. He was making his way over to you, shoulders still higher than usual, tight due to, as far as you could ascertain, the dramatic exit of the older man. Reaching out, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. As the slight weight of your hand settled on him you noted the relaxed fall of his shoulders, a sigh falling from his lips. Content with the slight ease in his demeanor you gave a slight squeeze and a hum of your own.

'So, should we get back to it?' Lars nodded, but otherwise remained completely still until you elected to remove your hand, at which point he spun on the spot and traipsed back over to the machine with a vigor that'd been notably absent all day.

Narrowing your eyes at the man in front of you, you watched as he returned to his regular As Seen On TV type demonstration. Now, with a pep in his step that you always found almost too intoxicating he placed a new object inside the chamber, closed it and started towards the computer.

'Hey, Lars? Can you level with me on something?' you hated to see how his movements stuttered to a halt at your vague interruption, but the question fell from your lips before you could think, 'Do you not like Gary?' His gaze seemed to flutter about the space, until his eyes were screwed shut, a shaky hand messing through his locks as his jaw dropped open, dancing silently in the nonexistent wind until you fixed him with pointed look and he suddenly found some words.

'I don't dislike him he's just very- He's smart it's just- its just that...' he trailed off, seemingly deciding to communicate through a jumpscare like gesture of his hands.

'He's very eager?' he nodded, glad you gotten his meaning, but he stilled when your head tilted ever so slightly.

'So am I.' With that thought your eyes had drifted from his, not shyly to the ground but dazed, as if fixed on some invisible specter only you could see. Your mind grew harsh faster than you'd care to admit, retroactively scanning every interaction with him against some intangible measure of frustration. There were surely times your presence slowed his work, distracting him with conversation or absurd what if's, not to mention the plethora of what you now realized must have been idiotic questions.

Surely he'd been speaking while you re-considered your very existence, but it wasn't until you felt the warmth of his hands on your shoulders that an ounce of sound managed to reach your brain.

'Hey, you okay there? You-you went blank on me.'

'I-um yeah -I just...' You had no clue what to say, how could you? Yeah sorry I was just thinking about how insufferable I must be to you, that came with a little spiraling as a treat.

Gathering that you'd most likely missed his in depth explanation of the difference between yourself and Gary from his perspective, Lars stepped away from you, considering the best way to dissolve the tension evident on your features. 'You and I, Us, we're not just colleagues, you don't just come to me to get new gadgets or answer some question you have... even if you do have a few. We're... something else, but when he's here its like he's extracting facts and figures, all the while you're just trying to understand me, m-my work. Its not his fault I- just I-'

'-Thought it was going to be just us today?' Cutting off his rambling you finally met his eyes. He shrugged nodding slightly as he held your gaze. 'If it makes it better?.. it is now.'

He released a bemused hmmf. 'I'll admit I wasn't the biggest fan of having to fight for your attention today. I'm pretty glad it is just the two of us again. Splitting your focus between me and my work is as much as I can handle.' Shaking your head in amusement at his sudden bluntness, you stepped towards him, a gentle hand against his chest, the eye contact mere inches long as you stood in his orbit.

'You are so oblivious... Trust me Lars there was not a moment that you weren't the nucleus of my afternoon.' A light groan was his only response to your overy-cheesy claim. 'No? what about...' you thought for a moment, tapping a finger to your chin.

'I'm much too weak to resist the gravity of your presence.' he narrowed his eyes at you own, looking for something you couldn't distinguish.

'Is that why you're in so close? My pull is too strong?' He didn't bother to cover the roll of his eyes or the teasing tone in his voice, but the smile that was paired with them was comfort enough to keep you talking.

'Mhmm You're just too enthralling Pinfield, you're gonna have to work on that if you want other people to be able to stand being around us'

Amidst all his scoffing and modest smiling, the blush that spung up across his cheeks was a sight for sore eyes, as his head lowered and he whispered into the paper thin space between you his tone even and resolute;

'Who says I'd ever want that?'

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield #ghostbusters frozen empire #gbfe #ghostbusters

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clairdelunelove · 6 months

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the problem with yuuji’s birthday is that he’s fine with literally anything.

he isn’t the type to extravagantly celebrate the day and typically spends it running through his daily routine. he's a simple guy. doesn’t deviate from the usual unless his friends decide to throw him a party or plan a reservation. and he’s extremely grateful for it! don’t get him wrong! but honestly, the most he’d do is treat himself to his favorite restaurant, order a piping hot rice bowl with loads of toppings, and call it a day. to him, it’s just a regular, standard day. this is the same guy that immediately gravitates to wearing hoodies because he’s indecisive! it means everything to you, however. and its significance only grows when the two of you start dating and the precious day looms closer.

“there isn’t anything that you want for your birthday?” you tilt your head as you desperately pry for some sort of lead that could point you in the right direction, “it could be anything!”

“y’know that I’ll like anything you get me!”

the statement is normally an automatic response for most people to say as a way to portray a bit of humility. similar to a dismissive wave of the hand. but when you peer at the blushy haired male beside you, he’s the epitome of genuine. like he truly would appreciate and cherish anything that you gifted him. no matter how trivial or insignificant it is. his eyes are wide, sincere in that oblivious habit he has that causes your cheeks to burn.

“how about we go somewhere?” you suggest before rattling off a couple places that most would deem fun, “maybe to the new cafe that just opened? an arcade? we could take a trip to an amusement park?”

his lips curl into a soft grin as his broad shoulders lift into an easygoing shrug, “sounds fun! as long as you’re goin’ with me!”

you end up deciding to spend the day at the nearest park and having a picnic. and you’re bustling around– cooking/packing his favorite meal, rushing to pick up a small cake at the local bakery, and setting up at the perfect spot that overlooks the gleaming pond. you spent countless nights planning this day and you’d do anything to give back a fraction of the amount of happiness he continually gives you. so you’re sweating by the end of it. huffing and swiping at your flushed face while yuuji heartily laughs at your impassioned effort.

“it looks great,” his hand drops to yours to give it a reassuring squeeze, “come and relax with me, yeah?”

he pats at the spot beside him, gently guiding you to obediently sink down and finally rest. it’s adequately comfortable due to yuuji stripping off his jacket and spreading it over the picnic blanket so you can cozily sprawl. and the gesture is so sickeningly sweet– so yuuji. especially with how his eyes lowly droop to where his slender fingers reach to press against the frilly outfit you’re wearing. it’s a delicate piece that you bought just for the occasion and he murmurs his admiration for it. you’re just the prettiest for him.

but your mind is still frazzled. instinctively moving to open the wicker basket, you’re whisked away in another task and the loss of contact has him childishly grumbling. he’s tugging at you in an attempt to coerce you back to him. just needy, grabby hands at your waist. he wishes for you to unwind because it genuinely has been the best birthday he’s ever had. sees the effort you went through to put this all together. all the care and consideration that you’ve put into the small details that cause him to melt into a puddle. doesn’t understand how he’s deserving of your adoring love.

the confession tumbles out from your pouty lips before you can process it, “everything has to be perfect, though. it’s your birthday, yuu.”

and the sentiment has his heart crooning for you even more. he gazes at you, patient and tender. you’re beautiful. bathed in the sun’s rays and glimmering as the field’s flowers act as your backdrop. you’re a vision that he’d dutifully bid his time into studying. he’s memorized the slant of your brow and the sweep of your lashes. he would search for you in every life. fortunately, luck was on his side during this one.

leaning in, he presses a sugary kiss onto your glossy lips. licks his own when he pulls away in a pursuit to taste you better. his strength and weakness is, inherently, you.

then, he rests his forehead against yours before whispering, “it is perfect. I have you.”

isn't my best work but I wanted to write a lil something for his bday. happy yuuji day, loves •ᴗ•

#jjk x you #jjk x reader #itadori fluff #itadori x you #itadori yuuji x you #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori #jjk itadori #itadori x reader

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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 18

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics, mentioning of pregnancy/babies, family planning, breeding kink* Flirting, sexy talk, nudity, tooth rotting fluff, Marcus has been getting buff. Summary: It's time for a White House wedding! Notes: Here it is, dears. The last chapter of Marcus Pike's soulmate story. Next week will be the epilogue, but I will be missing this beautiful family and all of its extensions like crazy. 😭😭 As always, please remember that the gif choice for each chapter does not reflect the appearance of the reader, only the tone of the chapter.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17

After the rehearsal dinner, you had gone separate ways. For the sake of upholding a silly little tradition, Marcus had spent some time with his parents at their hotel before going home to have a night of personal reflection. You had gone with your siblings back to the White House residence for a sort of last hurrah sibling sleepover. Both Alex and June will be moving out of the residence this month to live with their soulmates, making your parents officially empty nesters. They've promised not to get teary about it, but you can't be sure that will hold for very long.

It's after a few hours of board games with your siblings – Alex policed the hell out of Junie when she tried to cheat, as usual – that you're climbing into the bathtub of your guest bedroom. Donna Pike had gifted you a little self-care basket for tonight with your favorite bubble bath, scented candle, face mask, and several other indulgent bits, but the missing piece of this bath is at the other end of a phone call. Once you're settled in, you dial Marcus's number and put your phone on speaker to set it on a stool next to the tub.

"Hey Hummingbird." Marcus's voice is warm and soft, happy to hear from you. He had known one of you would call the other, but he hadn't wanted to interrupt any activities that might have been going on. He knew everyone was having a game night. "How is your night going? Is it sad to say I already miss you?"

"If it's sad, then we're both sad." You chuckle quietly and shake your head, wishing he was beside you instead of on the phone. "Remind me why we agreed to sleeping apart tonight?"

"Something about 'tradition'." He scoffs playfully. "But I don't think that I can sneak into the White House." He laughs. "Something tells me that it wouldn't go over so well."

"You wouldn't have to sneak," you remind him. Calling him was the best decision you could have made under the circumstances. You're feeling more relaxed already. "The Secret Service loves you. You could drive right up to the place and they'd wave happily to see you."

"Only because they don't have to background check me." He jokes, hearing a small splash and smiling. "Are you in the bath?" He asks.

"Of course I am." Another laugh, from both of you this time, and you splash more loudly for him to hear. "Aren't you?"

"Not yet." He pouts, jumping up off the couch and grabbing his beer bottle to rush towards your shared bathroom. "Give me two minutes though and I will be."

"Your Mom made me a little bath basket." It's still the single sweetest gesture you can imagine from your mother-in-law. She must have poked around your bathroom last time she was here to find out your favorites. "I'm going to be so relaxed when I crawl into that giant bed."

"And cold." He chuckles, turning on the water and immediately starting to strip after he puts his own phone on speaker and sets it on the edge. "You always want to snuggle close when you want to warm up."

"I'm not sorry to tell you." The guiltless grin in your voice is obvious. "That that has less to do with warmth and more to do with the sexy naked man."

"Is that why we always end up having sex?" He chuckles quietly as he finishes stripping down to climb into the bath. "It's sneaky and I like it."

"It's not really sneaky," you defend half-heartedly. But both of you are laughing and it doesn't matter. "I just get so distracted by my naked fiancé. But I bet my naked husband will be even more distracting."

"Maybe." He groans as he starts to slips into the water and reaches for his phone again. "How was your game night? Did Junie try to cheat again?"

"Of course she did. For a girl who is so upright about pretty much anything else, she is a ruthless cheat when it comes to board games. I almost wish she'd take up poker and make us all a fortune." The soft groans and splashing sounds of Marcus climbing into your large, sunken bathtub make you smile all over again. "Comfy, handsome?"

"I am, but I have to admit...this tub is a little big without you in it with me." He reaches for his beer bottle and smiles as he remembers another time he was drinking the bath. "I guess I'll just have to imagine it like we did when I was in London the first time we took a bath together over the phone."

"Oh, I'm definitely imagining it." You lean back in the clawfoot tub you're in and reach for the face mask to really indulge. "I have to say, this tub is very definitely one person-sized. No hanky panky in the Lincoln bedroom's bathtub."

"I bet we could make it work." Marcus chuckles. "I can't believe you're staying in the Lincoln bedroom without me." He huffs playfully.

"Yeah? Mr. I'm getting ready for the wedding in the Oval Office?" Blowing a raspberry at him over the phone makes you laugh because you can perfectly picture the exact face he is making in response. "I can't believe you talked my mom into letting you do that. Talk about bragging rights."

He laughs, shrugging even if you aren't there to see it and wearing a smug grin. "It's going to make for one hell of a photo though." He brags.

"History books, baby," you hum as you apply the jelly-like face mask to your skin and sigh at the cool contrast to the hot water surrounding the rest of your body. "It's going to be in history books."

He hadn't really thought of it in those terms, but you're right. "You aren't getting cold feet, are you?" He asks, smirking slightly because he knows you are just as eager as he is for tomorrow. "It would be pretty embarrassing if you didn't show up when the wedding is in your parent's backyard."

"The only thing I'm going to have cold feet over is magazines and papers and the internet having their hands on our wedding photos." It is what it is. And you know that. If you truly had objected, you could have easily eloped, or elected to hold off on getting married until your mother is out of office. This is the way you're doing it and that's fine. "No, my love, I'll be there with bells on. Maybe even literally," you tease. "After all, I never told you what my something blue is."

"Are you going to tell me now, or do I have to wait to find out until tomorrow?" There is something so comforting in knowing that you are less than twenty-four hours away from being his wife.

"Oh no, you absolutely have to wait." A fact which makes you giggle mischievously. The shimmering blue nipple covers that will be safely tucked into your white shapewear are just for his eyes. Sydney had suggested tiny blue panties, but you wanted to do something a little more creative for Marcus.

“Evil.” He hisses, but there’s no heat behind his words. “I think you just want me to drag you out of the reception early.”

"The very idea that we wouldn't leave the reception early is laughable," you tease. "I've seen the suit you're wearing, baby. You're gonna look like a whole three-damn-course meal."

“And I haven’t even gotten a glimpse of your dress.” He pouts.

"Which is exactly how it's supposed to be. Tradition, remember?" The two of you had gone along with almost all of them. You did, however, opt out of the garter toss at tomorrow's reception. There will be none of that.

“Much to my dismay. I’m rethinking this tradition shit.” He huffs. “Not sleeping next to you when I’m not on another continent seems like a crime.”

"You'll get to see my dress in..." You glance up at the clock on the wall. "A little less than twenty-one hours."

“I know, I can’t wait.” It’s easy to admit, he’s looking forward to this. He has been for his entire life if he’s honest with himself. You are his soulmate.

"Me either." The broad grin on your face is audible, which only makes you smile even wider. "I love you so much."

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He hums quietly.

That particular sound is so comforting that you practically purr in response. "And I can't wait to be your wife."

“Mrs. Pike.” He coos softly. “Are you ready for all the annoying paperwork changes?”

"Oh, absolutely." Just because he can't see you nod doesn't mean you aren't doing it. "It's all already printed out, filled out, and sitting in a folder in the office at home. My dad promised to file it for me while we're on our honeymoon. I just have to sign everything and bring him the folder at Constance's birthday party."

He should have known. “You’re perfect.” He promises. “You are just….perfect.”

"I'm excited to be your wife." Something you always knew you would be able to say to the partner you chose to stay with forever. You just never imagined anyone as wonderful as Marcus.

“Twenty hours and thirteen minutes left.” He muses. “But now I’m thinking we should have had a morning wedding.”

"That would have been a good idea." It was an idea that was bandied about, but you had ultimately decided against it. Though you can't remember why at the moment.

“Yep. By lunchtime we could be back in our hotel room. Or back home.” Marcus smirks at the small sound of protest you give.

"I'm extremely excited that your parents aren't starting their housesitting until after our wedding night." Matthew and Donna will be taking care of your place, collecting your mail, watering your houseplants, and generally looking after things for the two weeks you're in Scotland. But tonight and tomorrow night they are staying in the inn so you can have some privacy for your wedding night.

“Yes. I would be very unhappy to have them sleeping right next door.” Marcus snorts. “Because they would hear things.”

"And your parents do not need to hear things." Especially not when Marcus gets you going and you can't keep your volume down. "Just like my parents do not need to hear things. And we will not need to hear things when our kids are grown."

“Our little girl is going to be a good girl.” He teases. You’ve had the conversation about when your children are older and are both on the same page. There’s not going to be separate rules for girls versus boys. That’s not fair.

"Need I remind you that you routinely call me a 'good girl' while fucking me into oblivion?" You laugh, though, knowing that this is very much a non-issue at the moment. "Good girl is a relative term."

Marcus chokes on the mouthful of beer he had been about to swallow. “No. No. Please don’t remind me of that.”

“Daddy and good girl can stay sexy for now.” Your laugh turns soft and you lean back in your bath again, imagining how red his face must be.

“You’re such a brat.” He growls, shaking his head. “Do you want me to spank you tomorrow?” The two of you have ventured into spanking and light bondage, finding it a fun new expansion of your sexual experience.

“Oh, I absolutely want you to spank me tomorrow. I thought that was a given.” And as much as the thought is tantalizing, you’ve already promised yourself you won’t masturbate yourself to sleep tonight. Somehow the idea of Lincoln’s ghost watching over that is too creepy.

“Already needy.” He teases, having snorted out loud when someone asked about traditional roles in marriage during the sit down interview. Both you and Marcus believe that traditional roles have to be fitted to modern times and there have been several private jokes about that.

“Always needy.” The correction doesn’t really mean anything, but you hum it softly like a coo in his ear.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans, loving when you drop your voice into that pitch. It makes him shiver and his already hard cock twitches. “You’re making it hard to keep my promise to myself.”

That actually has you laughing so hard that you snort and you pick up your phone with your dry hand to bring it closer. “Did you make a no masturbating promise to yourself, too?”

“Of course, because what is one night?” He asks sarcastically.

“One night is nothing,” you huff, giggling that you both had the same idea.

“And now you’re talking about me spanking you?” He growls, shaking his head. “Baby, you know what that does to me.”

“I believe the phrase ’Spank me, Daddy’ almost made you cum in your jeans last week.” A fact which you fully intend to exploit at a future date. At many future dates.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his thighs together to apply slight pressure to his balls. “You’re not being nice. How would you like it if I didn’t let you cum tomorrow as punishment?”

“On our wedding night?” You laugh in utter disbelief, knowing he’s bluffing but finding it amusing that he’s trying. “You wouldn’t.”

He wouldn’t and both of you know it. “No.” He admits with a chuckle. “You’ve got me there.”

A soft, warm silence settles between you, and you look at your phone screen as tenderly as if it was his face. “We should get some sleep, my love,” you hum quietly. Even though you’d rather stay up and talk to him all night. There is a lot to do tomorrow.

“Do you want to go to sleep with the phone on, or should I let you go?” There have been a couple of times where you’ve slept with the phone still connected and he smiles as he remembers you snoring softly through the line.

“Are you going to tease me for snoring?” Like you can read his mind, you set the phone down again and start washing off the gently abrasive face mask.

Marcus laughs quietly. “No, I promise I won’t make fun of you.” He swears. “I think it’s cute.”

“You snore too, ya know,” you huff. But there’s no heat in it. Just soft affection from and for you both.

“I know. You don’t think I know that? With this nose?” He jokes, laughing at himself.

“I love your nose.” And if he were here with you, you would kiss it to make your point. The number of kisses you’ve left on the prominent, proud bridge is numerous. “I hope all our babies look exactly like you.”

“God no.” He groans. “I don’t want that. I would not look good as a girl.”

"Pike genetics are full-proof," you counter, washing off the last of your face mask and lifting yourself out of the bath carefully so as not to splash too much water. "All of your cousins are fantastic looking. I have no concerns for our kids."

He grumbles, unable to really articulate a rebuttal when it’s the truth that his cousins are all attractive. “I want our kids to look like you.” He murmurs.

"For better or for worse, I don't think we get to pick." Your bathrobe is nearby, and you slip it on to stay warm as you climb out of the bath. Marcus does have a point. You're always cold after a nice hot bath.

He sighs softly and smiles as he finishes his beer and hits the drain for the tub. “I hear they have those 3D ultrasounds now. Where you get a clearer picture of the baby? You think you would want to do that?”

"I'm on board if you are." The sound of both tubs draining in unison takes over for a few seconds but you step away from the tub to dry off and moisturize. "It might be kind of weird at first, but seeing more of the baby doesn't sound like a bad thing."

“Did you take a test tonight?” It’s silly but he had shoved a test into your bag in case. It’s still way too early, but he’s excited.

"I had my period less than two weeks ago," you remind him, although you grin at the idea and look over to see the small, wrapped test sticking out of your overnight bag. "It would be way too soon to show up on a test."

“Yeah.” He exhales in disappointment and sighs at his impatience. “Damnit.”

"Do you want me to keep taking tests during our honeymoon?" The lotion that Donna packed in your bath basket is the same scent as the bubble bath was and the whole bathroom smells perfumed and beautiful. "Or do you want to hold off until we get home again?"

“That’s up to you.” He doesn’t want you to feel pressured or have it take away from the trip.

"I think..." Once you're dry, moisturized, and wrapped up again, you pick up your phone to go back into the bedroom you'll be sleeping in tonight. "I honestly think if we test negative on our honeymoon it will upset us both. And we'll pretend not to be upset, which will make one or both of us pouty. Let's leave the tests at home, love."

“Agreed.” Marcus easily accepts that. “I don’t want anything but for us to enjoy our trip and not worry about anything. Not even your uterus.” He snorts. “Except when it comes to making sure it’s filled up.”

You hum in agreement. "And that is not a worry, it's a pleasure."

“Yes it is.” He agrees, wrapping the towel around his waist and padding into the bedroom to crawl into an empty bed. Hating how you aren’t waiting for cuddles already.

The sound of him getting into bed is comfortable and familiar, though you wish the mattress beside you was dipping with his weight. Unable to stifle a yawn, you clap your hand over your mouth to cover the sound and ask, “What time are you getting here tomorrow?”

“I’m just going to pretend like you don’t know I’m going to be there as soon as I can.” Marcus laughs. “Is there anything you need me to bring? Anything you’ve forgotten?”

“Just my husband.” Words that will be perfectly true in less than twenty hours. “I was very silly to leave him behind tonight.”

“Yes you were.” Marcus teases, folding his hand behind his head and laying with the phone on his chest. “Don’t worry, he won’t let you leave him behind again for a very long time.”

“Never.” You promise him without hesitation. “I’m never going to be that foolish ever again.”

“Are you curled up under the blankets?” He asks softly, imagining your nightly routine since he’s seen it enough.

“Mmhmm.” The stack of plush pillows doesn’t quite make up for his absence, though, so you tease. “It doesn’t smell like you. I might have to count sheep or something to get that rhythmic snore going for you to fall asleep to.”

“I just imagine you sprawled out here on my chest.” He admits. “Cold feet on my legs.”

“Cold feet, warm heart,” you tell him with a drowsy giggle, though that isn’t quite the traditional saying.

“The warmest heart imaginable.” Marcus agrees, knowing you are getting tired. “I love you, sweetheart. Close your eyes, I’m still right here.”

“I love you.” You have from the beginning, you came to terms with that a long time ago. And by this time tomorrow, you’ll be his wife. It’s almost the day you’ve been working so hard for, and you can’t wait.

Marcus is up early, his sleep is brief, but he feels rested. Energized because the day that has been planned for so long is here. He’s going to marry you. The phone is still connected and he smiles when he hears you start to stir.

It probably shouldn’t surprise you at all to wake up and find the call to Marcus still connected, but you smile sleepily and hum when your eyes fully open to show you how many hours you and your soulmate have been on the phone together just sleeping. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning.” He smiles as he sips on his coffee. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmmm…” Another hum, but this one comes with a small grumble as you stretch and sit up in bed. “How long have you been awake?”

He snorts. “Two hours.” He admits, grinning when you huff in annoyance at him not waking you. “I couldn’t sleep anymore knowing that today is the day.”

“Our kids are going to be early risers like you, aren’t they?” You grumble in a playfully accusatory tone. “I tossed and turned all night because I was impatient for today.”

“I just kept waking up and looking at the clock.” Marcus admits. “I’m excited. Must be something interesting happening today.”

“Must be.” Before you can say more, a soft knock on your door announces that the day has officially begun. “That’s my wake up call,” you tell him, and the energy in your voice lightens noticeably. “I love you, Marcus Pike. Get your cute butt over here so we can at least be in the same building again.”

“Do you want to exchange gifts before you need to get dressed?” He asks. “Or wait until we are alone tonight?”

“Let’s save it for tonight.” His technically doesn’t exist yet, for that matter, but you’ll be able to explain better at the house. The shed that you’re having built for him behind the house will be whatever he wants it to be, but when you return for Scotland it will be filled with paints, tools, other accoutrements of whatever hobbies he is enjoying at the time – and enough space for kids or a dog to come and visit him.

“That works for me.” He chuckles quietly. “Just needed to make sure I was going to bring it or leave it.”

“It can be a sweet, private moment,” you suggest, and giggle quietly when the knocking outside comes again and more loudly. “Right before you put a baby in me.”

“Birdie.” The nickname is growled out, his thoughts immediately on peeling you out of your dress.

“Love you, baby, see you later!” You cackle into the phone, making a smacking kiss sound before hanging up and jumping out of bed to throw your robe on over your nightgown. “I’m up!”

The door is thrown open and Junie, Sydney and Selena flood the room with happy squeals. Sydney carrying coffee cups which she picked up on her way to the White House. “Happy wedding day!!!!!”

“Ohhhh, thank you loves!” The cup from your favorite coffee shop even says the same, with hearts and well wishes written out by the baristas this morning — which only attests to how often you go there and how well they know you. “Everybody feeling bright eyed and bushy tailed?”

“We have been waiting until a reasonably decent hour. What are you still doing in bed?” Selena huffs. “I know Marcus has been up since before dawn.”

“Your cousin is well known for his ridiculously early rising.” You huff, with a teasing roll of your eyes. “I tossed and turned all night. Thank god nerves don’t make me nauseous because I am very excited for food tonight.” The grin you toss at the other three is devilish. “Along with other things.”

“I don’t want to hear about that.” Selena shoves her fingers into her ears playfully.

“She acts like I haven’t been fucking her cousin practically every day since we got together,” you snort, sipping the coffee Sydney brought you.

“La la la. I can’t hear you.” She singsongs playfully before she shoots you a grin. “How does it feel to be hours away from being Mrs. Marcus Pike?”

“And how is Clark Kent stacking up to the task of being a Pike soulmate?” Sydney asks, knowing full well that the teasing is a mandatory topic this morning.

All of you giggle at the way conversations are rapid fire and merging. Everyone boisterous and playful. “He’s amazing. Especially when he takes off the glasses.” Selena teases, shooting finger guns back at Syd. “Now…Mrs. Almost Pike?”

"I'm going to become a Victorian lady and only respond to Mrs. Pike for at least the next month," you inform them with an unrepentant grin. "Just so you know."

“As you should.” Junie snorts. “You’ve waited a whole year for this day.” Making sure that she doesn’t spill her own coffee, she flops down on the bed with you. “Ready to get pretty?”

“We are all already ravishing.” Holding up your paper coffee cup, you tap it against Junie’s, Sydney’s, and Selena’s in salute. “But it will be fun to play dress up.”

“The dress is already out. Mom had the protection detail bring it in.” Junie cackles. “The Secret Service was protecting your wedding dress!”

“Our wedding dress,” you remind your sister, reaching out to gently tap her nose like you’re punctuating a point. The alterations had gone perfectly, of course, and Alex’s vest will be stunning when he marries David next year.

“Right now, it’s your wedding dress.” She counters with a grin. “And mom has ordered another box to have it preserved in for after the dry cleaning.” She wrinkles her nose. “Because I know you are going to have sex while wearing the dress. That has to be some kind of fantasy for you two.”

You really can’t help it, you just sort of snort and burst out into giggles at the genuinely disbelieving and slightly horrified expression in June’s face. “I promise I will take it off first,” you assure her when you can breathe again. “That’s the dress you and I and maybe even our kids will get married in, I promise not to have sex while I’m still wearing it.”

“I don’t believe you.” She huffs, grinning at herself and taking another sip of her coffee. “I don’t believe you at all. Not when Marcus is going to want to throw you over his shoulder immediately.”

“Oh he’s definitely going to want to.” There’s no denying that. June has a point, it’s practically a kink for Marcus to see you do anything wedding related. “But the dress is an heirloom. We’re not taking any chances with it.”

Junie snorts and Syd grins. “Hey….don’t knock it.” She warns your younger sibling. “You might change your mind about wedding dress sex when it comes time for you to dance with the incredibly sexy soulmate you’ve just pledged to spend your life with.” She grins. “Wearing a tux.” That makes Junie bite her bottom lip and bury her face behind her drink as her brain suddenly completely flips.

“I think we hit a nerve,” you giggle, on the absolute verge of delight to see Junie just as flustered as can be.

“Shut up.” She huffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning when you all cackle at her. “This is your day. Not mine.”

“Sure is.” A reminder which has you bouncing up out of bed and stretching delightedly. The sun is shining, the day is young, and soon enough Marcus and the boys will be downstairs getting ready, too. “Which is why I get to tease you with this big bright smile on my face.”

“So I…made you something.” Junie admits, looking slightly embarrassed as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out some hair combs. Some of the extra beading that had come from the extra material of the wedding dress had been too good to waste and she had also made a tie clasp for Alex.

“Oh my god, June.” The gasp from your lips comes all the way up from the pit of your stomach, as your sister pulls out a piece of cloth tied up in ribbon like she’s walked straight out of a Jane Austen novel to give it to you. “Honey, you didn’t have to do anything, but thank you.” She’s always been a bit craftier than you or Alex. Good with her hands. With visualizing a project and executing it well even when things inevitably weren’t perfect somewhere in the middle. When you take the little parcel from her and unwrap it, tears spring to your eyes almost immediately. “Junie…” The two little hair combs are perfect, and of course she would know that since she sat with you during your hair and makeup trial a mere two weeks ago. “They’re beautiful honey. You made these yourself?”

“Yeah.” She smiles softly, happy you like them, even if you’ve never been the type to dismiss the thought behind any gift. “There was extra material from the dress that couldn’t be used, but the beads were too gorgeous to let go to waste.”

"I can't believe you made an heirloom." Selena sighs, barely tracing her fingertips over the delicate combs when you put them down to hug your sister fiercely. "Have you ever thought about selling the things you make? The jewelry you made me for my birthday is gorgeous."

“Not really.” She admits with a slightly self-conscious shrug. “I don’t know if anyone would want to buy them.”

"Then we'll all be the very happy recipients of your beautiful handmade gifts," you promise your sister proudly. "But if you ever wanted to try your own small business, every single one of us would do whatever we could to help."

“It’s something to think about.” Sydney offers with an encouraging smile. “I think you would do really well.”

"You never know what the future will bring." Selena adds, and she aims a wink at June before judging you toward the door. "Except for today. We have two hours until the hair and makeup artists get here, which means we need to get the bride down to breakfast."

“Breakfast!” Selena moans happily. “Breakfast at the White House!”

“Nervous yet?” Juan smooths one hand down the front of his tuxedo and nudges Marcus’s side with a teasing grin. He knows that nervous isn’t quite the word for what Marcus is feeling now that it’s time for guests to start arriving and the evening to really begin, but his friend has been contemplatively quiet for the last ten minutes or so and a check-in seems the most minor of courtesies.

“Impatient.” Marcus is normally calm and collected, patience for days. Now, now his skin feels jittery, like he had three pots of coffee instead of the small glass of bourbon in the Oval Office about fifteen minutes ago.

“Like you’re about to crawl out of your skin, or like a kid the night before Christmas?” Juan asks, one eyebrow ticking up in Interest. The difference is important, though neither one is bad.

Giving a small laugh, Marcus’s shoulders roll back. “Both. It’s both.” He admits, looking over at Juan with a grin. “I don’t know how to even describe it. Except I wish this day could last forever and I want it to be over already.”

“Yeah.” The other man lets out a small bark of a laugh and shakes his head. There are some times when Juan is devastated to remember that there was many years when he and Marcus had lost contact. Marcus wasn’t even at his wedding despite Juan now being present for both of Marcus Pike’s. For as deep a bond as the men share, it seems like Marcus always should have been there. His emotional brother for so many years. “Come on,” he says, instead of voicing any of those thoughts. There is no need to make today bittersweet. “Let’s go greet your guests as they arrive. It’ll make the time go by faster and give you something to focus on.”

A task, something to do. That’s exactly what Marcus needs right now, because he really wants to go up to the residence and see you. The tradition is all that’s keeping him outside and he wants to keep from rehearsing his vows for a hundredth time. “Sounds good.”

“Alright, guys.” Juan turns to the others — to the other groomsmen in the Oval Office — and waves one hand toward the doors that lead the Rose Garden with a flourish. “Let’s get the night started.”

There is a knock on the door and it opens a bare inch. “May I come in?” Marcus almost laughs when the person the office belongs to is called in. Your mother is elegant in her mother of the bride gown and her smile is bright when she walks in. “I was hoping to speak with you a moment.” She admits and Marcus nods.

“We’ll be outside.” Juan offers, shuffling towards the Rose Garden door.

“I won’t keep you long,” she promises, smoothing the skirt of her satin gown as she slips into the room. She and the other parents had agreed on wearing formal black with accents of navy and gold to suit the wedding party and it had ended up looking quite elegant.

“Yes ma’am.” He won’t insult you by asking her if you’ve changed your mind, he knows that isn’t possible. He waits and moves over to the couch when she indicates a less formal audience than it would be if she sat behind the desk. Which every single one of the groomsmen did, including Marcus, and took pictures. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“I wanted to check in on you earlier,” she admits, the pinched smile pulling at her lips having nothing to do with him. “Unfortunately the world at large does not particularly care that it is my daughter’s wedding day and I had to take a call. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Great.” Marcus laughs, wondering if she thinks he has cold feet. “Honestly, I’ve been wondering why we didn’t have a morning wedding all day.” He admits. “I love your daughter and I am humbled to be her soulmate and have her choose me.”

"I don't doubt the two of you for a moment," she assures him easily. "No one who has seen the two of you together could ever have any doubts."

Sitting down, he smiles at his future mother-in-law. “That makes me happy.” He admits. “All I want is to be a good husband and man.”

"You are a good man, Marcus." She might have voiced concern far before this if he was not, but as far as this man's relationship with her daughter goes, she has been that most rare thing: a contented and approving mother. "But you know as well as anyone does, that things won't always be perfect. Sometimes things won't even be good. You've been through a lot as a couple already, and I applaud the mature and methodical way you tackle your problems together."

“You’ve raised a remarkable woman.” Marcus hums, proud of the stamp of approval. “All of your children.” He looks around the office in admiration. “This— holding this office, having this job is amazing and something to be proud of, but I believe your greatest achievement is the caliber of children you’ve raised for the next generations.”

"I've held them to a high standard," your mother admits, unashamed of that fact even as some might have looked at it from the outside and thought her unfair or asking too much at times. And maybe she was, but it never stopped you, Alex, or June from rising to the occasion. In fact, her three children have repeatedly met an ever-rising bar of expectation for their entire lives. "So I have to say both 'thank you', and agree with you. If the only thing I ever accomplished in my life was raising the three of them, I would still consider myself a remarkably accomplished person." She smiles at Marcus, resting a hand on his arm in that same reassuring and gently proud gesture she has shown to each of her children throughout their lives. "For what it's worth? The two of you are going to be a beautiful example of love and support for your own kids. All of those tough times will only bring you closer together. And when you need your family, we'll be here for you. All of us." If there is a bit of water behind her eyes, she isn't ashamed of it. It is an emotional day, after all. "I'm very proud to count you among my children, Marcus."

It’s not surprising that her profoundly emotional words makes him tear up slightly. Today will be a day where both of you will have moments where the emotions of the day, the love, get the best of you. “Thank you.” He covers her hand with his one and squeezes the back of it. “They say that when you get married, you also marry your spouse’s family, and this is one family I am proud to be counted among.”

"I think there is something to be said for finding friends within your family." She smiles, returning the gentle squeeze from him before she rises from the sofa. "But friends who are chosen family might be ever dearer. We're always here for you. Both of you. Birdie's father and I couldn't possibly be prouder of the two of you."

“Thank you.” He smiles. “Any words of wisdom?” He asks, always willing to listen to those who have succeeded for as long as your parents have. He would be a fool not to.

"Keep talking to each other." She knows that the conversations happen. Sometimes she hears about them and sometimes she just sees the fruits of the emotional labor, but keeping up with them is sometimes the hardest part regardless of how rewarding and healthy it is. "You're going to reach a place where you feel like you should be able to read each other's minds and you might start to just assume you're thinking or feeling the same things. Instead, the second you find yourself assuming, that should be your clue to check in with each other." Her hand on his shoulder is steady, and she offers him a reassuring smile. "Especially when it comes to your kids. They're going to surprise you every single day."

“Wise words.” Marcus smiles at the happy thought. “Did Birdie tell you?” He can only assume you have, since your core group of people know, but he wants to make sure.

“This morning at breakfast.” She beams happily. News of an impending first grandchild had brought her to near tears at the table. “We’ll be proud as peacocks when you’re ready to deliver the news. Until then, there is already plenty to be proud of.”

“Good.” He grins even broader at the idea of announcing the newest edition to the family soon enough. “First, we have some vows to say though.”

“You absolutely do.” Just one glance out the window shows both of them that guests are beginning to arrive full force, and her smile softens even more. “Go and say your hellos, honey. Let yourself be excited. It’s your day together.”

“Thank you….mom.” He tried the new title out as he leans in to kiss your mother’s cheek and then stands quickly.

“Go on.” She chuckles a little, smile brightening as Marcus heads for the door. “Oh! Marcus. One more thing.” When he turns like an excitable deer in headlights, she smirks. “You did get a picture at my desk, right? It’s going to be great in the wedding album.”

His grin is guilty, and he looks over at the desk. “Absolutely.” He admits with a chuckle. “Who wouldn’t?”

Waiting has been the hardest part. Waiting just inside the confines of the White House to be signaled out by Miss Sharma. Two by two, your wedding party goes down the aisle toward the rose-covered archway where Marcus is waiting, with Malachi carrying Constance and her little basket of petals making the most fuss at the head of the line until it’s only you and your father waiting just out of view to make your approach.

“I know you’re ready, pumpkin.” With a tone that has nothing but love dripping from his words, your father tucks your hand around his arm proudly. “You look beautiful. Too beautiful to be on my arm, but I think you’ll find the man who compliments you perfectly at the end of this short walk.”

“Right now it seems like the longest walk in the world.” But you look over at your father — beam at him, really — and don’t even bother to stifle the boundless, giddy giggle that bubbles out of you. “You set a very high standard for how I expect the men in my life to treat me, Dad. I hope you know that. Marcus is the only person I’ve ever met who could surpass it.”

“He’s a good man.” He has spent time with Marcus and there is no one else he would want to be by your side. “He will be your partner in life and love, and make you stronger when you need his strength.”

“He’s more than I dreamed of.” Your fingers squeeze your father’s arm gently as the music changes, the quartet of musicians in the garden moving into a classic arrangement of Etta James’ At Last as your cue to start walking.

Marcus shuffles slightly, unable to stand completely still as the pre-determined music starts. It’s perfect for the moment and everyone in the audience turns to watch as you and your father step into view.

If anyone had thought you wouldn't be holding back tears already, they would be desperately incorrect. Thankfully, your family and friends know you well enough that when you sniffle slightly at the top of the aisle, with your eyes brimming in unshed tears of joy, it's only smiles and nods of understanding from those you walk past. Not that you notice. Not that you're looking at a single person other than Marcus. Not that you could ever tear your gaze away from the matching water that has risen in his eyes, the two of you brimming over with tangible joy that almost makes you want to break away and simply bolt right into his arms.

The second he sees you, it’s like the air has been sucked out of his lungs. The moment barrels over him and leaves him breathless as the stunning vision of you captures his full attention. He can look at nothing but you, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes filled with unshed tears that this stunning creature, beautiful and wonderful in every sense, wants to marry him. He can’t even help himself, “I love you” is mouthed as you walk slowly towards him to the romantic song.

Love. Love hardly seems like a strong enough word right now. You mouth back to him, “I love you,” beaming as tears leak from the corners of your eyes, and when you finally put your hand in his at the end of the aisle it feels like your pounding heart grows wings.

Marcus nods at your father, but his eyes are on you, unable to believe how breathtaking you are. “You’re stunning.” He coos, making a ripple of adoration for the couple run through the wedding guests.

“So are you.” His family necklace hangs at your throat and your grandmother’s altered wedding dress hugs your figure, enormous symbols of the coming together that your wedding means for your families. The very real judge standing before you in the Rose Garden as friends, family, world leaders, and everyone in between watching on fade into the background for just one more second while you look up at Marcus. “Ready?”

Both of you manage to project the biggest grins towards each other. "Absolutely." He promises. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin gently. Nervous giddiness settles into his stomach and makes his entire body shiver in anticipation. Wanting this moment to be the perfect realization of the last year of planning.

However brief the formal ceremony might be, It’s stumbling tearfully through your vows that you know you’ll remember after today. The soft giggles from you and Marcus and the laughter and sniffles that ripple through the crowd as an echo of your happiness.

Marcus doesn't hear most of what the judge is saying, although he heard every word last night at the rehearsal. It was true what Juan said, once you see your bride, everything else fades away. The beautiful speech about soulmates and love is not even registering as he stares into your beautiful eyes.

"I," saying your full name almost sounds foreign for how much you want it to end in Pike already, "take you, Marcus Pike, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as long as we both shall live." The traditional vows were good for both of you, but you had agreed to add a little personal touch of your own to them. Something that made your vows yours alone. "I promise to keep your hand in mine through the parts of life we have never navigated before just as steadily as the parts that we have. I promise to love you in the big ways as well as the little ones, whether it's planning vacations and birthdays, or fixing your coffee in the morning so you can have that extra second to breathe before work. I promise to be the best wife and partner that I can be to you. To love you as an equal and to nurture the life we have together just as much as I will nurture any children we have." Through tears, you can't help but laugh softly as you look into Marcus's eyes. "No matter how many sets of twins we have." His family, and yours too, you're sure, laugh at that inevitability and there may even be some applause. "You love me and complete me in ways that I never knew possible, and I will spend my whole life loving you the same. Your love has made me a better woman, and I will not stop choosing you. My soulmate, my husband, my true love, and my very best friend."

He has to take a moment. Choked up and threatening to break down into the tears that are surely going to be present in the video, not that he gives a damn if the entire world sees how emotional your vows make him. Swallowing harshly and clearing his throat, the family and friends gather chuckle when he has to clear his throat and he shakes his head. "How can I beat that?" He asks, grinning at you before he straightens slightly. "I, Marcus Pike, take you –" he says your name in the warmest tone, "to be my lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in joy and sorrow, as long as we both shall live." He vows proudly. "From the moment I met you, I was drawn to you. My heart already knew what my mind had not yet figured out. You are my match. My mate in life and love. The perfect balance that completes me." He smiles at you, pulling your hands up to lay joined over his heart. "More than my soulmate, you are a wonderful, vibrant woman. One that I choose every day. I choose to love you, to build a life with you that we will look back on years down the road with pride." Squeezing your hands, he hums. "I promise to listen when you need an ear to talk to, to hold you when you need a shoulder to cry on. I promise that I will stand beside you when times are tough and celebrate with you when they are good. To find joy in waking up beside you every day and thanking the universe for placing us together. To protect the life that we build, the children that we have and put you and our family first before anything else." He says your name again. "I am the luckiest man in the world to have your love and your marks on my body. I will always choose you, my one true love. My wife. My soulmate."

In that moment, you could care less about protocols or order of events, and instinctually close the small gap separating you and Marcus to kiss him. There is a smattering of laughter and a little more applause, but the kiss doesn’t last long enough for the judge to do more than raise an eyebrow at you as if to disapprove. “I couldn’t resist,” you admit sheepishly, taking Marcus’s hands again as another wave of laughter rises out of your guests.

"You don't ever have to resist with me." Marcus promises with a happy little giggle of his own. Both of you turn back towards the judge. He shrugs slightly, "Proceed." He tells the man, unwilling to say sorry for that candid moment.

"The rings?" The judge asks, looking to the wedding party to move the end of the ceremony along. Malachi pops up with Constance still strapped to his chest in his impeccably tailored suit. The nearly identical wedding bands are distributed to you and Marcus and the judge nods. "Repeat after me, please. This ring I give in token and in pledge, as a sign of my devotion. With this ring, I thee wed."

"This ring I give in token and in pledge, as a sign of my devotion." You have to take a breath as you place the band on Marcus's finger and finish the promise with a shaky voice that is filled with more happy tears. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Marcus stares down at his hand as you slowly push the ring onto his finger. Humming when it is in place and feels perfect on his hand. The rings that he has already given you are stacked on your finger, the promise ring, the engagement ring and now ready for the last piece. "This ring I give in token and in pledge, as a sign of my devotion." He turns the ring to show you the engraving on the inside of the band right before he slides it onto your finger to complete the set. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Two hands, one heart says the inside of your wedding band, and as the judge is finally pronouncing you man and wife, you barely manage to tear your eyes away from the place where he has added this band to the others that he has given you. It's his eyes you're staring into again when the judge has his last words on the matter: "You may now seal your union with a kiss."

It's only fitting that the kiss that joins you together in holy matrimony include the infamous dip that had been photographed and talked about before your soulmate status was even known. His lips are curved against yours as he holds you dipped down low to the ground, the guests clapping and cheering as the clicks of the cameras go wild.

If he’s showing off just a touch, you’ll forgive him easily. After all, it is the perfect full circle moment for the two of you, a year and half after that first dance.

Pulling you upright, Marcus kisses you again, happiness making him giggle against your lips. “Mrs. Pike.”

“Finally.” You breathe, giggling right along with him, and clinging to his arms for support. “Finally.”

“Finally.” It’s almost a crime to have to break away from you so that the two of you can face your guests and walk back up the aisle. Sydney hands you your bouquet and shamelessly wipes the tears from her eyes, ready to follow after you on her own husband’s arm. The ceremony was perfect, and now everyone is ready to cut loose.

Walking you back up the aisle, Marcus is beaming, his smile lighting up his face and there isn’t anyone there who can deny that he is happy. He kisses your hand and squeezes it when you look over at him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Flowers and all else disregarded, you throw your arms around his neck once you’re back inside the White House and pull him into a kiss. The judge, Juan, and Sydney will follow in a minute to sign the marriage certificate with you but right now you’re all alone.

“I can’t believe that we made it through the ceremony.” Marcus admits with a small laugh as he goes in for another kiss.

“Barely did.” Your giggles bubble over, pouring into kiss after kiss. “I’m sure the one story that will get told over and over is that I kissed you during the ceremony.”

“I was about to kiss you, so I wasn’t upset at all.” He admits with a grin.

With your arms around his neck and his own around your waist, the sparkling shine and shimmer in your eyes is endless. “We’re married.”

“Technically not yet.” He teases. “We have to sign on the dotted line and make it official.” Still, that’s just paperwork to him. Not important and those vows you just exchanged.

“Paperwork.” The derisive noise you make comes with a wave of your hand. “It will be filed in no time. The vows are the important parts.” You hum softly, warmed through with bubbling joy. “And the I do’s, of course.”

“The I do’s are the most important part.” Marcus agrees, feeling like he could move mountains and conquer the world. Anything is possible with you by his side. “And you look amazing in that dress.”

"Me?" You practically blow a raspberry at him and run your hands down the lapels of his tuxedo, careful not to muss his boutonniere or the square of gold fabric in his breast pocket. "What about you? I'm over the moon that my Dad convinced you to go to his tailor because you look drop dead gorgeous."

“You like that, huh?” There’s a slightly smug edge to his smile, preening at how your eyes light up as you stroke his chest. The workouts have been helping and he had actually found he didn’t fit into his old tux anymore. His chest and shoulders were too broad now.

"Oh yeah." And if it weren't for seeing your friends approaching through the window, you might just show him how much. Instead, you hum a promise for later. "I'm going to have fun peeling this off of you tonight."

“We don’t have to go right to the reception.” He smirks.

"There are already two Secret Service agents who have probably heard us have sex," you remind him, smirking as men of the same agency open the door from the garden to let your wedding party into the Oval Office. "We don't need to add more to the list."

He rolls his eyes playfully but he doesn’t protest, knowing that now is not the time to sneak away. Everyone will be waiting for pictures to be taken and then for your entrance into the reception.

The decision to have a live band rather than a deejay means that the band leader is the one introducing members of your wedding party as they filter into the ballroom. Juan's mother has whisked baby Constance away for the rest of the night and Malachi leads the rest of the party into entering the ballroom, but it is the announcement of Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Pike that has you nearly floating into the room with your hand in Marcus's.

“I like the sound of that, don’t you?” Marcus asks, knowing that instead of a receiving line, the first order of the night is your dance as husband and wife.

“I think it’s perfect.” You agree, hand in his as the two of you move into the center of the dance floor. You’ll have your formal dances and then dinner can be served, leaving the rest of the night to be a wonderful party for everyone to enjoy. At whatever point the head table moves to make speeches, you will grin and bear the embarrassment. For now, you get to dance with your husband.

The sweet strains of your song start to play and Marcus hums with a loving gaze directed towards you. “You’re perfect.” He corrects you gently, pulling you closer to him. “And you’re my wife.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear this new verse again since my bridal shower.” The gentle reminder of his exquisite stunt that day makes both of you smile as you start to dance together.

He chuckles and listens to the song as it plays to match up the time. “As you love me, the world turns round. The birds sing, with songs of joy. My heart and soul are always yours. And life will be, La vie en rose.” He croons to you softly.

“I love you.” Holding him close in the dance seems like such a small thing to do, but keeping each other in your arms as you move around the floor is a beautiful kind of ecstasy tonight.

“I don’t think love is enough to describe what I feel for you.” Marcus admits. “Worship is closer. But it’s still not quite there.”

“Just don’t put me on a pedestal.” It’s something you have to remember not to do with him sometimes — not let yourself get carried away as thinking of him as perfect or worshipping him as your ideal partner. You’re both human, and fallible, and while your communication has been good it has to be maintained. Now, dancing with him, you look up and find his eyes watching you. “But today has been…perfect so far. More perfect than I could ever imagine.”

“We are going to have our ups and downs.” Marcus doesn’t have any illusions of perfection. “But there is no one I’d rather weather a storm with.”

His hand presses to the small of your back, spread out over the tattoo that marks you so decidedly as belonging together. Being meant for each other. Being two halves of one complete heart. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” You murmur, and squeeze his other hand gently in the dance, swirling through the crowd of family and friends, and listen to the last lyrics as they ring out loud and clear.

Give your heart and soul to me And life will always be La vie en rose

______

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dellalyra · 1 year

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

pixie says: this is my first foray into writing for genshin but neuvilette is too pretty to ignore and if you notice i am writing for another tall man with white hair no you didn’t.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was an elusive man. Aloof, serious, logical. The air of grace and elegance that flowed from his body and being put the most beautiful of swans to shame. The way he carried himself with such poise and dignity, made it clear why he was so very respected throughout Fontaine. His air of unattainability was echoed by the ever polite, kind-yet-distant way he interacted with others. That, and the obvious - that level of otherworldly beauty. It was what first struck the traveller upon meeting Neuvilette - such beautiful features, graceful and sharp like the man himself. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow with those odd blue horns (it became quite clear to the traveller that they were horns - since there was no way in Celestia that the Iudex was not the Hydro Dragon).

Yet - that day, at the grave of Navia’s father - it was clear as day that there was a deep, painful, lingering sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Lumine hoped he wasn’t alone.

The life of a dragon can be a lonely one.

An invite to dinner had arrived for Paimon and Lumine, from Navia - a thank you for their help during the trial. Following the etiquette she had been picking up on in each nation, it was customary to bring a gift to the host in Fontaine which lead her to wandering the streets in search of a florist. Lumine may have been very adept at gathering flowers and plants - however floristry arrangements were never a skill an intergalactic traveler and the sword of Teyvat had ever picked up on.

The pale blue front of the flower shop was immaculately painted and decorated with gilded lettering ‘la gueule de loup’ - which according to Paimon meant Snapdragon.

What an odd name, she hadn’t seen a single snapdragon in Fontaine.

“Bonsoir! If you need any assistance, please let me know!” A cheerful voice echoed from the door behind the cream counter.

“Hello! We would like to buy a bouquet please!” Paimon responded - ever the duo’s spokesperson.

At that, a woman in a pale pink apron came around the corner. Hair haphazardly pulled up atop her head secured with a pencil and a dark blue ribbon - a cream, soft blouse tucked into a dark blue layered skirt atop white stockings and navy and gold boots, a n embroidered blazer sat atop a chair which matched the woman’s skirt. She smiled brightly at the pair in front of her - and Lumine’s breath hitched when the shining tone of her eyes caught the evening sunlight, an otherworldly quality to her aura.

“A bouquet? Well, good thing you’re in a flower shop! I might have some flowers we could piece together!” She said, giggling as she gestured to the sea of flowers engulfing the store.

Paimon smiled and laughed and Lumine followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lumine and Paimon - I was hoping I would get to run into you soon.” She said as she collected a basket to gather her supplies.

“You know us?” Paimon asks.

“Sweetheart, I think everyone in Teyvat knows you. The brave and beautiful outlander and her clever guide. However, my husband was in attendance at the most recent magic show and trial - so I became privy to all of the inside scoop.” She smiled.

“You did not attend? I thought all of Fontaine was there.” Lumine spoke up.

“Ah, I tend to not get involved with the trials, I am delivered a rundown of the days events in the evenings. Yet I have been to several of the twins magic shows, such fantastic entertainment! I do love them so. Such gentle children, too, Lyney and Lynette.” The woman’s eyes lit up and an air of an excited child permeated her face. Lumine quirked a brow at the woman calling the twins ‘children’ for she looked no older than 25.

“Now! What’s the occasion?” Hands placed on her hips, the woman smiled at the travellers.

“Miss Navia asked us to dinner this evening, and we’ve been told a gift is a Fontainian custom.” Paimon speaks.

“Ah! Well, for Miss Navia you will need some clematis - her favourites. Edelweiss for courage, which you have both shown in the past few weeks. Hydrangeas for understanding - blue, I think. Iris for trust. Nasturtiums for victory. Rosemary for scent and also for remembrance of her dearest father, with some added sweet pea as a thank for you a lovely time.” The woman says, mostly to herself as she wanders the store - quickly picking up bunches of flowers from the jars in which they lay. Paimon and Lumine’s eyes were wide as if the woman spoke in tongues.

“Wow! I didn’t even know flowers could mean all that! Lyney only told us a few! You sure know your stuff, Mrs. Florist!” Paimon squealed, amazed.

The woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Y/N is fine, sweethearts. A book could be told in flowers alone. Flowers are nothing but truth, they exist for beauty and healing - and I admire them greatly.”

“You knew Miss Navia’s father?” Lumine asks, gentle voice contrasting Paimon’s outburst.

“I knew him well. A very good man, loyal endlessly and thought of Navia as his entire world. A life taken too soon in protection of his child - I lay flowers on his grave every month, mortal lives are so fragile - they must be treated with respect, no matter the circumstances.” She says, hands deftly manoeuvring the flowers into a piece of sponge.

Lumine quirked a brow.

“Mortal?”

“A state in which neither of us reside, Miss Lumine.” The woman responds with a wink and a smile.

It was logical that Lumine was not mortal, yet the explanation of this woman before her also not being so seemed to make many things far more understandable.

Just then, a patter of footsteps outside the store came trotting in through the front door.

“Mama!” A small voice called.

“Liath! Hello, sweetling!” The woman pauses her arranging and comes around the counter and leans down. Lumine spins and expects to see a child - perhaps with the florists hair.

What she didn’t expect was a Melusine.

“Papa wishes to know if you’d like to have a picnic together this evening, when he is finished at the Palais.” She asks, picking a small rose and placing it in her mother’s hair.

“Tell him that sounds wonderful, I am closing the shop soon and I meet him at the office. Thank you, Liath. Come here, let me fix your ribbon.” Y/N smiles and adjust the ribbon on the lapel of the melusine’s lapel.

“Thank you, mama. Bye bye!” She says, kissing her on the cheek and skipping out the door.

“Mama?” Lumine asks.

“Ah - not biologically. Yet, my and my husband’s nature has led us to a parental standing with the melusine’s. They are all our children, regardless of what soil they grew from.” She says, wrapping up the bouquet in a swathe of blue ribbons. Lumine wonders if by nature, did she mean they were both parental figures by nature or something to do with her not-mortal being. Perhaps her husband also was not human.

Lumine decided to press on the matter no more. Everyone deserved their privacy, after all.

“Et, voila! One bouquet for Miss Navia.” Y/N says, handing the bouquet to the traveler.

“How much do we owe you?” Lumine smiles, the bouquet truly was something exquisite, a talented woman indeed.

“Nonsense, lovely. You have done Fontaine a great service, consider this a small thank you. Miss Lumine, please take these peony roses also - they are a symbol of happiness, which you make me as I have heard you show great kindness to all of my children, for which I am so very grateful. For you, Madame Paimon, some purple Iris - meaning respect and intelligence for the Outlander’s clever guide.” She hands them all of the flowers, and winks at Lumine when she addresses Paimon, knowing that such words would fill the floating pixie with glee. True enough, Paimon squeals and dives to hug the woman who chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you so so much, Miss Y/N! We love them so much - Lumine, you could put it in your hair with your Inteyvat! I’ll put mine under my tiara, then we can match!” Lumine smiles and does as suggested.

“May I ask where you are meeting Miss Navia?” Y/N asks.

“Café Lucerne, however I’m not quite sure where that is.” Lumine responds.

“Ah! Well then I can walk you, if you wish?”

Just as she speaks, the door opens with a jungle of the bell as Lumine secured the flower in her hair she sees Y/N smile and walk around the counter.

“Hello, mon ange. I thought I was meeting you at the Palais.” Ah, must be her husband, Lumine thinks and she sees Paimon turn and freeze.

“Mon trésor, I am taking you on a picnic so it is only right that I collect you myself.” The deep rumble of a voice makes Lumine freeze too.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS MONSIEUR NEUVILETTE?!” Comes a squeal from Paimon.

Lumine spins on her heel and sees the owner of the familiar voice. Y/N’s hand is pressed to the far taller man’s cheek in a tender display of affection she would not have associated with the Chief Justice.

The gentle smile on the man’s face as he looks at his wife with such love is one she figures the melusine’s learned from him.

“Miss Lumine, Miss Paimon. A pleasure to see you. I see you have met the Madame Neuvilette.” He nods his head toward them.

“MADAME NEUVILETTE?!” Paimon seems on the verge of a meltdown at this information.

“Indeed. Apologies, I got so caught up in making such a wonderful bouquet I didn’t even introduce myself properly. Do forgive my lack of manners.” She says, turning and removing her apron as she begins to shut down the store for the evening.

Everything clicked into place just then.

The wife of the hydro dragon would hardly be a mortal woman. She mentioned the Palais, his attendance at both the magic show and the trial and of course the melusine’s would view the hydro dragon as their father.

The logical side of it all did little to curb the shock of seeing the intimidating Ludex and Hydro Dragon of Fontaine, the man who had taken out Childe with a simple slap being so gentle and enamoured in the face of his wife.

They way they looked at each other - that level of love had been a rare delight to find across her journey. Perhaps in how Zhongli spoke of Guizhong or Cyno and Tighnari - or how that certain someone looked at her and she at them…

“Neuv, we must show Lumine and Paimon to Café Lucerne on our way to our picnic.” Y/N says, ushering them all from the store before locking the door behind her.

The walk was short, as pleasantries were exchanged and Paimon and Y/N did most of the talking in the wake of the quiet counterparts.

“And here we are! I do hope you have a wonderful evening. My regards to Miss Navia. Do come and visit again soon, I would love to exchange tales of adventures!” Y/N smiles, before pressing a kiss to each cheek of the two outlanders.

“Indeed, the melusine’s speak very highly of you both - you must forgive the children if they become over zealous.” Neuvilette adds with a fond smile.

“Au revoir, enjoy your meal!” Y/N says, grasping her husbands arm and smiling at him. Lumine looks at them walk away toward the aquabus station entrance.

She could not quite believe her eyes when she sees the hydro dragon press a large pale hand to the smooth, undisturbed lower belly of his wife.

The sunset brightened ever so slightly.

Fontaine surely was full of surprises.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #genshin fluff #genshin x reader

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