#all I can do now is keep working and saving and shaking the box we keep grandpas ashes in

[chartreuxcatz]

*sobbing* I WANNA BE A PHILANTHROPIST SO BAAAAAAAAAD

But alas, i too am broke as shit

[jjongslutz]

이희승 HEESEUNG 💋 YOU'RE STILL A VIRGIN? [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you realize you never completed your most important new year's resolution: losing your virginity. luckily, your roommate is willing to help you out with that

WARNINGS ⨯ smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first work of the year!! sorry for taking an impromptu break so suddenly, but my works will still be coming out slowly as of now, so thank you for your patience 🫶

# TAGLIST ! @wonkifangirl @chlorinecake @sunjaywoning @jaeyunthejakesim @deobitifull @notevenheretbh1 @jvngw0nlvr @jongszn @ineedsomezzz @haelahoops @seongslutt @fakeuwus @leeheeheeseung @aheewonenthusiast @lprww @wonsbaer @heeseungssidechick @smisworld @rayofsunshineeee @starrypen @heerated @snwosgf @nycapartmentsworld @sooyeonvida @dear-hoon @nikiiitties

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

-

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible, but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stiffles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up at going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skins are sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[amuseoffyre]

I’m emotionally ruined by the fact that Aziraphale hasn’t broken out of his heavenly conditioning. He still loves doing good. He gets happy when people tell him he’s an angel and says “it’s nice to tell people about the good things you’ve done now that I’m not reporting to Heaven”. He will literally put himself in harm’s way to make sure he does the Good and Right thing.

It can’t be understated how much Heaven’s influence still impacts on him. Aziraphale has been created, ordained and conditioned to believe it and he can’t just switch it off or walk away. Crowley didn’t get the choice. He was Fallen. He was kicked out and - as per the rules of toxic and terrifying cults - Aziraphale was always told for centuries and millennia, Falling was the worst thing that could happen. If you’re bad, you’ll be forced out. If you’re bad, you’re not one of Us. You’re one of Them.

When he did something he perceived as Right (ie. saving innocent children from death), but knew it wasn’t what Heaven intended, he broke down. Crowley found him a crying, shaking wreck afterwards because he was so convinced he was Evil. He was so convinced he was going to be dragged to Hell and that he was now a demon because he did one thing that saved some children but because it wasn’t a specific directive, it was Bad.

It shapes so much about him and it’s why the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it. He’s happy and excited and he’s doing his human-life things and having a lovely time, but he’s also constantly stressed because of the Need To Do Good. From the moment Gabriel turns up, he’s a nervous wreck and is trying to hide it by Doing Good, by Solving the Problem, by Fixing Things, by being so active and reactive rather than letting himself think about it. It’s a sign of exactly how frantic he is that he starts giving away his books and letting humans touch them.

Watch his face when the Archangels show up unexpectedly: that isn’t joy. That’s blind terror. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing in Heaven’s eyes, even though he made the active choice to do so because it was the Right thing to do. He’s a Guardian and he will protect, but he is so very afraid of the repercussions, even now. 

At the end of S1, Crowley said “they’re gearing up for the big one” so Aziraphale’s not oblivious. He knows a big one is coming. He knows something worse than the Antichrist will be on its way. And he’s trying so hard to pretend that everything is normal and fine and if he ignores all the looming bad stuff, it won’t happen. If we don’t say anything about it, nothing has to change.

But then the changes come knocking at his door holding a box and the choice is gone. He can keep trying to blinker himself to it, but then there are angels and demons in the bookshop and he’s had to use his halo and everything is falling apart.

So when he realises that he can get himself into a position where he can guarantee those repercussions won’t happen to Crowley? He will absolutely take it. He says himself “I don’t want to go back to Heaven”, but the instant the Metatron offers him a free pass for Crowley, to take Crowley out of both Heaven and Hell’s sightlines, to keep him safe (Another bee inside the hive, if you will), no wonder he grabs it with both hands.

The tragedy is that Crowley thinks that when they saved the world together, that was the end of Heaven’s influence in Aziraphale. When he was cast out the split between him and Heaven was sharp and clean. He doesn’t - he can’t - understand how deeply it has tangled around Aziraphale. It’s built into Aziraphale’s entire being and unravelling it isn’t that simple. Aziraphale’s trauma is a horrible, terrible Gordian knot and Crowley can’t understand that he couldn’t simply cut through it, because that’s just not how Aziraphale works.

[kayhi808]

Neighbors - Alpine

Masterlist

Bucky hates that you walk home alone after your set at the Flatiron Room, so he's been meeting you after work so you both can grab dinner & head home together. Arriving a little early, Bucky turns down the side alley, making his way to the employee entrance/exit. There's more trash than normal in the alley. Shaking his head, he nudges some of the crates & boxes to the side with his foot.

The last box he shoves emits a high pitch "meow" and Bucky freezes. No. He doesn't see any movement from the box, maybe he imagined it. He goes to lean up against the wall opposite the door. The door opens, but it not you. Your co-workers walk down the alley and as they pass the box, he hears another loud "meow".

Walking over to the box he lifts one of the top flaps and there's a kitten. "Damn it." Bucky squats down & there a dirty white cat meowing. "Hey, buddy." The kitten stretches up the side of the box, meowing. "It's ok. I got you." He reaches in to take the kitten out & it start to shriek & hiss. "Whoa! Hold on." He takes away his hand not wanting to scare the ball of fluff. This gets repeated twice. "Look, you're going to need to cooperate here."

"What are you doing??" You walk out to see your boyfriend hunched over a dirty box in the alley.

"Oh, hey Doll!" Frowning, he stands and gives you a quick kiss. He points to the box. "I got me a pet."

"Oh, Bucky!"

"His name is Alpine...Al." The tiny kitten meows pitifully so you try to pick him up and he immediately goes into hiss-mode. "Jesus."

"I know! It's like, 'you want to get out or not?". You remove the scarf from around your neck and hand it to Bucky. "Use this."

Bucky drops your scarf over the kitten & takes it out of the box. He's making so much noise. "Shhhh. You're safe, Al. I got you." After Bucky's coo-ing, the kitten is still screaming. "I'm saving you, dummy."

You hit Bucky's arm, "Don't call him a dummy! He's just scared." You pout and try to uncover his head, so he can at least see what's going on. Once his head is free from the scarf, he quiets & gives you both a silent meow that melts your heart. You go to scratch his head & he wiggles and hisses. Bucky laughs as you jerk your hand back. "See, dummy." And yet Bucky still brings him closer to his chest, to try & keep him warm.

******

The kitten stayed silent on the walk home as long as you both didn't touch it. Dirty little face taking in all the sights of the big city while nestled up against Bucky's chest.

You make a quick stop at the corner store to see if they got anything for kittens, which wasn't much. You got cat litter but all they had was adult cat food. It's better than nothing. Bucky can go shopping tomorrow.

Letting yourselves into Bucky's apartment, "He's probably starving."

"I got some chicken in the fridge." You head towards the kitchen to dice up some leftover rotisserie chicken. You heat that up and go to find Bucky.

He's in the living room setting up a box for his new friend. "We got a problem."

"What's wrong!?"

He lifts Alpine up to show you despite the angry hissing. "Al is a girl!"

You laugh, "That's not a problem."

Putting her down so she can investigate the chicken. "I already thought of him...her as a boy. He's my buddy."

"Well...she can still be your buddy. What? Do you want to get rid of her now?"

"No!!"

"Okay then."

You both sit on the floor and watch her gobble up her food. Bucky is able to pet her head because she's so distracted by her food. She can't bother with hissing. Once Alpine is done eating Bucky gives her a bath which didn't go at all well. You're in the kitchen putting sandwiches together for dinner but you hear her high pitch meowing. Bucky's cajoling only makes her scream louder.

He finally brings her out, "She was filthy." He puts Alpine on the floor and she is pristine white.

"She's so cute! Look at your daughter." He sits down with you to eat as he lets Alpine explore.

"Sorry about tonight."

"Don't be! I can't believe how cute she is. She was so dirty." You watch her wander around the living room like she owns the place.

"Am I doing the right thing in keeping her?" Bucky's eyes follow her around the room and you know he's a goner. No way is he giving up this kitten.

"Was she better off in the alley?"

"I could drop her off at the animal shelter tomorrow. I'm sure a family would adopt her." You already see the pain in his eyes just thinking of giving her up. At that moment Alpine walk up to Bucky's feet and taps it with her paw and meows at him. "Hey Al, what's up? She meows again & when he just smiles at her, she starts making biscuits to his socks. You both look at each other with silent gasps.

"She's not going anywhere," you laugh.

Alpine gives a big yawn and a last meow, before Bucky reaches down to pick her up. Not a hiss or a scream is heard. He cradles the kitten in the crook of his arm and she starts to purr and falls asleep.

"I'm going to head home. I'll let you bond with your baby," you tease, dropping a kiss to his lips, "Congratulations, Nerd. I'll see you tomorrow."

Laughs, "G'night, Doll."

"Sleep tight, Alpine," you give her a couple scratches before you head next door.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

[alexa-fika]

Can you create a story about Mihawk's son who gets injured or kidnapped ?

More Mihawk please 🙏

( sorry for the grammar or spelling mistakes am not good at English )

A/N: Again, I don't know. if this is good, but you guys are popping off with Midnight Lessons so maybe this is up to your tastes? Thank you for the request Anon! Feel free to drop by my ask box to requests or simply to say hi!

Also don't worry English is also not my first language!

Dividers by @/saradika

Papa to the rescue ( Mihawk x male!reader)

Sniffles and stifled sobs could be heard in a cold, dark cell of a ship sailing somewhere on the East Blue.

“Shut up, you damn brat!” Growls Don Krieg.

Glaring at the child, he walks toward the cell, a smirk suddenly replacing his sneer.

“Do you know why you are here, you little twerp?

He sniffles, shaking his head

“Oh my my, aren’t we scared? A shame your papa can’t come and save you; what a disappointment.”

Krieg laughs mockingly and looks toward the small child.

“It’s because of him that you are here, brat so that I can finally have revenge on that bastard! It will be perfect for breaking down your stubborn, cocky father. I bet having to see his little boy die will make the bastard come around, kneeling in front of me and begging for mercy. Or he’s too much of a coward. Either way, win-win for me.”

“Papa wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. Your papa won’t see you die. He’ll see you in agony, a slow, excruciating death by starvation or a beating, a torture that will make you beg for death. All by my hands, too.”

“He wouldn’t bow down to you! “

Krieg grips the small boy by the collar and picks him up to his eye level. His dark scowl is met by the red face of the boy, tears filling his eyes.

“He will, little brat.” His voice is low, threatening.

“Or you die.”

“He won’t! Because he will slash you! You can’t beat papa.”

Krieg’s grip tightens at the mention of Mihawk, his sneer returning in full force.

He growls out a sharp response as a fire of rage sparked in his eyes, his hands tightening around the kid’s neck.

“I will! And he will beg me for mercy before you die in front of him!”

He said, dropping Reader to the ground.

It all happened in an instant; Reader’s mind could barely keep up with what happened in the next few minutes.

He remembered that screams started coming from upstairs. He remembered Kreig turning towards the dungeon entrance, equally confused about the sudden chaos that had erupted from upstairs.

The next thing that happened Reader could remember clearly, as the familiar silhouette of their father came down the stairs into the dungeon.

“Papa!” They cheer as he closes in to the cell Reader was in and towards Don Krieg, who stands in front of it

Krieg made quick work of the cell lock, running inside and grabbing the kid, putting them in a chokehold, and holding a gun to his neck.

“So you finally show yourself, you bastard! Better start kneeling, or you can say goodbye to the brat,” he cackles.

Reader is quick to dig their tiny teeth into Don Krieg’s hand, taking advantage as he winces and slightly lessens his hold to raise his head to headbutt him, quickly running to his dad the moment Don Krieg let go of him to hold their bleeding nose.

His head snaps back as the young man headbutts him; Krieg grunts in pain. A burst of blood spurts down from his nose

He scoffs,

“Damn brat!”

“You’re not going anywhere!” he growls, pointing his gun towards the child and taking the shot.

The next few seconds, although hard to keep up with, Reader was quick to understand what had just happened as his father now stood in front of him, Yoru unsheathed and a sliced bullet landing on each side of Reader.

“Reader. Wait upstairs,” his words curt, but one could hear the aggravation in his tone.

Reader nods, running upstairs to wait for his dad; he does not have to wait long, however, as Mihawk joins him no more than a minute later.

He gently picks him up and jumps onto his small raft.

“Are you hurt?”

The child looks up at him, his eyes watering.

“I’m okay ’cause Papa is here,” he says, hugging him tightly.

“Good,” he says as he puts a hand around the child and smiles.

“I’ll make sure it stays that way,” setting his course back to Karai Barai Island.

“How did you find me?”

“Do not worry about that.”

They smile, a slight idea as to who aided his father in finding him.

“Im glad you found me, Papa; I was scared,”

It’s okay, son,” he says, rubbing his head.

“Let us get you to bed.”

Reader nods, watching dazed as the splashing waves soon turn into flowing grass and soon into the familiar floors as they arrive at their headquarters, soon arriving at their own room as Mihawk gently lays Reader down on the bed.

“Can you stay with me tonight, Papa?”

“I will only stay for a short while; there are things I must attend to.” He responds, sitting down on a chair next to his son

Reader smiles, staring at his father as he slowly lulls himself to sleep after a long and terrifying day.

Despite his words, Mihawk could be seen sitting down next to his son all night; of course, no member of Crossguild would ever comment on this, and neither would they ever comment on the soft look he had on his face as he stared at his son, finally home safe

What do you guys think? Was it as good as Midnight Lessons or kinda, eh? Please let me know so I know what I can improve on next time! Do we like child! reader more than the romantic pieces? Who's next?

[fanfictionalraven]

Reno - After

Title: Reno - After

Summary: The events leading up to and following Dean being taken to Hell.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Reader’s Father, John Winchester (mentioned)

Word Count: 3,552

Warnings: Alcoholism, mentions of suicide

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Reno - Before here.

Middle of nowhere, Tennessee. A dark, deserted intersection between some cotton fields. You bury the box you’d brought with you in a shallow hole right in the middle of the crossroads and wait. It doesn’t take long before the wind shifts and you can feel it standing behind you.

“Can I help you, little lady?” A man with a thick Southern drawl asks as you turn to face him. He blinks and his eyes flash red as you swallow thickly.

“I wanna make a deal. Hear you’re the one to talk to,” you say, trying to keep your voice from quivering. Demons weren’t your expertise. He smirks slightly as his eyes run over you.

“I’m sure we can work something out. What’s your little heart’s desire?” He asks. Tears well up in your eyes as you speak.

“Save the man I love,” you tell him simply. The demon lets out a dark chuckle as he starts to walk around you slowly. “I don’t even need ten years. Save him and you can take me right here, right now.”

“How noble. You realize what that means, right? Eternal damnation. Everlasting suffering and torture,” he says, stopping dead in front of you. You have to force yourself not to flinch back from the closeness. “All for some man?”

“He’s not just some man,” you say. Looking you over one more time, he shrugs.

“His name?” He asks. You frown and shake your head.

“Do we have a deal?” You ask. He cocks an eyebrow at you and you curse yourself internally. Now you’d peaked his interest in the worst possible way.

“Name first, Sweetheart,” he says. You set your jaw and cross your arms.

“Do we have a deal?” You ask again. The demon stares at you intently and his eyes flash red once again.

“Winchester,” he says, gauging your reaction. You try to keep your face under control but Dean always said you had a crap poker face. The demon smirks and shakes his head, taking a step back. “Sorry. Can’t undo that one. Everyone downstairs is pretty excited to be getting their hands on his soul.” You pull your gun and the demon laughs, shaking his head. “You know that ain’t gonna work.”

“No. But it can’t feel good,” you tell him before squeezing the trigger. You fire three shots into his chest, forcing him to take a few steps backwards. The demon grunts then starts to laugh. He moves to take a step before he’s stopped by an invisible force.

“What did you do??” He snarls. Smirking, you step closer to him then drag your foot across the dirt in front of him revealing a mat with a devil’s trap painted on it underneath his feet. He lets out an animal growl as you turn and walk towards your car.

One month, Y/N.

Y/N please answer me. He’s got two weeks.

You’re gonna regret it if you don’t see him and you know it. One week. We’ll be at Bobby’s. Please.

Stop ignoring me, Y/N. We’ve got a lead on Lilith and we’re going. I know he wants you there. Tomorrow’s his last day.

You stare at the latest text from Sam. The last few months, you’d spent in denial. It wasn’t really going to happen. Sam and Bobby were going to be sure of that. They were going to find a way to get Dean out of deal even if you couldn’t. But the months passed and based on the ignored texts and missed calls, Dean was really about to be dragged to Hell. They had one last shot but Sam didn’t exactly sound hopeful. You were a day’s drive from Sioux Falls. You couldn’t be sure if you were going to even make it in time but, damn it, you had to try.

You race from your motel room, not even bothering to check out. The drive is long and laborious as you push the old Mustang to its limits. You’re running on pure adrenaline and the thought of seeing Dean again. The engine seems to breathe a sigh of relief when you finally cut it off in Bobby’s driveway. The Impala and Bobby’s truck are both sitting there as well. Maybe you had made it in time.

The distance between Bobby’s front door and your car seems like miles as you run up towards the porch. You don’t even bother to knock, barreling into the house. It’s quiet inside as you round the corner, through the kitchen and into the study. Bobby and Sam look up at you, momentarily startled. You watch as both of their faces fall. They look away, unable to meet your eyes.

You were too late.

************************************************************************

A bender. That’s how you’d spent the last 15 months. Random motel rooms across the country, hitting each bar in town. You’d avoided your dad, Bobby, and Sam, sending an occasional text to your father letting him know you were alive. Not that the three of them hadn’t tried to reach out to you. Numerous missed calls and texts were cluttering up your phone. You couldn’t even remember the last case you’d actually worked.

You had tried after Dean had died. You really did because you knew that was what he would have wanted. He would have wanted you to keep going, fight the good fight, save people, hunt things. And it worked – for a month. That was when the nightmares started. It was always the same. Dean screaming in agony for you as legions of demons tortured him. You’d wake up in a cold sweat, short of breath, and sobbing. Alcohol seemed to be the only thing that helped. So you drank…and drank…and drank. You practically stayed drunk after that.

Over the past 15 months, you’d woken up in a lot of different places. Typically you stayed in your car or some motel room. A few times, you woke up in some strange guy’s apartment or house. Once you were chased from a home by an angry wife whose husband you’d spent the night with. On three different occasions in three different states you woke up in jail. Public intoxication. Assault. Inciting a riot. You’d managed to get out of all the charges somehow. But this – this was a new place.

You blink against the bright lights above you then squeeze your eyes closed, fighting the pulse in your left temple. Something’s beeping. Incessantly. It only takes a moment for you to realize what it is. A heart monitor. You’re in a hospital. You finally manage to open your eyes and assess your situation. Your hands are tied down to the railings and there’s an IV in your right elbow, running up to a machine. The door opens and you look up quickly. Your father is standing there, a coffee cup in his hand.

“Hey! You’re awake,” he says, relief clear in his voice. He rushes to your side and runs a hand over your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you groan. He smiles a little sadly then shrugs.

“No truck. Just fell off a bridge,” he tells you. Your eyes widen quickly as you stare at him. He looks down at your hand, placing his own over it. “They thought you jumped at first. But, ugh, when they got you to the hospital and did some blood work, they realized how drunk you were. Figured you’d just stumbled and fell. But they wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be a danger to yourself when you woke up so…” He trails off, squeezing your hand slightly. Your heart aches at the pain on his face. You’d never meant to hurt him like this. He was all you had after all.

“Dad, I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” you say, trying to get him to meet your eyes. When he finally does, you wish he hadn’t. You’d seen that look before. It was the same look he’d had when he had to tell you that your mother was dead.

“Yea you are, Y/N. Just slowly. Do you realize what you’ve already done to your liver? If you keep this up, I’m going to have to bury you. That’s not something a parent should have to do,” he says, trying not to cry. You look away as a tear slides down your cheek. He sighs and wipes it away for you. “I called Bobby and he said that once you’re out he’s got something for you to see.”

“I don’t need another of your interventions, Dad,” you snap. He, Bobby, and Sam had tricked you once about seven months ago with an “emergency”. It turned out to be a setup. Three against one, trying to get you to sober up. You’d left, furious and hurt.

“It’s not an intervention, Y/N. I think he just wants to see you,” he explains. You sigh and relent, agreeing to go. You felt so bad right now your father could probably get you to agree to anything.

They keep you for one more night just for observation. You’d apparently gotten really lucky. The bridge wasn’t too high and the water wasn’t too shallow. You’d only hit your head on a rock before someone dove in and grabbed you. A couple had been out for a romantic walk when they saw you fall over. The man pulled you from the water while his wife called for the ambulance.

As soon as you’re released, your dad gets you in his car and the two of you head for Sioux Falls. It was a few hours drive so you decide to relax, just resting your head against the window. You’re not going to fall asleep. You know what’s waiting for you if you do. You close your eyes but you’re not going to sleep. You’re not…

“Y/N!! Y/N, sweetheart, wake up!!” You hear your father calling to you. You sit up quickly, trying to catch your breath. “You were screaming.”

“Just – just a nightmare,” you tell him, running your hands over your face. He watches you, concerned.

“Okay, well, we’re almost to Bobby’s,” he says, turning onto a road. You nod and sit up, trying to shake the images from the nightmare. It was the same as all the others – Dean in Hell, in pain, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

Your dad pulls into Bobby’s driveway and you frown as he stops behind his truck. That old Impala is sitting just a few feet away. Sam was here too.

“Thought you said this wasn’t another intervention,” you say, looking over at him. He sighs and shrugs.

“Maybe Sam just wants to see you too. We’ve all been pretty worried about you,” he says. The two of you get out and you walk up to the porch together. He opens the door and allows you to step inside first. The house is quiet, just like the last time you’d been there. You walk through the kitchen and into the study where Bobby and Sam are both sitting. Sam rises from his spot on the couch and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“You had us scared to death,” he says. You sigh and return the hug. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. Bobby is there as soon as your out of Sam’s arms.

“Don’t you ever do that again. You hear me, Y/N?” He says, grabbing you by the arms. You frown and nod quickly. “Your dad called. Said they thought you’d jumped off a bridge. Do you know what that did to us?”

“I didn’t jump. I swear. There was no intent. I’m not suicidal. Just…a clumsy drunk,” you tell them all. Bobby watches you for a moment then pulls you into a bone crushing hug. You sigh and hug him too, burying your face in his chest. You’d never meant to hurt these three men. You loved each of them dearly. He finally lets you go and you look between them. “So? What did you have to show me?” You ask. They all share a look.

“Y/N, why don’t you sit down,” Sam suggests, motioning to the couch. You frown and cross your arms.

“I do not need another intervention,” you tell them defiantly. Sam shakes his head quickly, going to say something. But the voice you hear next doesn’t come from Sam. It doesn’t come from your father or from Bobby.

“You should sit down, Darlin’,” Dean’s voice says from behind you. Your eyes flutter close and you take a shaky breath.

“Tell me someone else heard that,” you say, your voice quiet. You open your eyes at their silence and find them all three watching you closely. Turning slowly, your Y/E/C eyes meet those green ones. You feel your knees start to go weak. Sam places a hand on your back as Dean steps forward, taking your hands in his. You look down, shocked. You hadn’t expected his hands to be solid – to be real. You expected cold, not warmth. But they felt exactly like you remembered. “Oh my god. I’m dead.” Dean chuckles softly and you look up at him.

“You’re not dead, Sweetheart. I’m back. It’s, ugh, it’s a long story but I’m here. I’m me,” he says. You swallow thickly as the tears spring to your eyes. A shaky hand reaches up and your fingers just graze his cheek. His eyes close and he turns into your hand, pressing his lips against your palm. You choke on a sob before throwing your arms around him. Your body shakes as you cry into his shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your back. He sighs and places a chaste kiss against your temple. You finally manage to pull yourself together enough to look at him again.

“When did you get back?” You ask. His face falls slightly before he answers.

“Bout four months ago,” he tells you. You stare at him. Four months? Did he say four months? You push away from him quickly and he sighs.

“You’ve been back for four months and no one thought I should know?!” You nearly shout, looking at each of them. Sam frowns and shakes his head.

“We tried calling you, Y/N, but you never answered,” he says. Your dad nods, taking a step forward.

“We didn’t even know where you were,” he adds. You frown and look at the ground. They were right, of course. You’d been ignoring them all and running for over a year now. You feel Dean’s hand at the small of your back and you look up at him. Your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes. That same old look. Something.

“Can we have that conversation we shoulda had four years ago?” He asks. You bite your lip and nod slightly. He takes your hand in his then pulls you out the backdoor. He leads you a few yards out into the scrapyard before he stops and turns to face you. “So…”

“So…” You say.

“So…” He repeats, nodding slightly. You both start to laugh and his arms snake around your waist. You rest your hands on his shoulders, noticing for the first time how well the two of you fit – like two puzzle pieces, perfectly snapped together. “So, I probably shouldn’t have jumped straight into the whole marriage thing.”

“Dean,” you say, shaking your head. He reaches up, putting a finger over your lips.

“Let me talk, okay?” He asks. You smile slightly and nod. He drops his hand, the arm returning to your waist. “I shoulda started with dinner. Or just…telling you that I fell in love with you the moment I saw you under the hood of that old mustang right in this very spot.” You look around and smile. This was the spot. The spot you’d first noticed it in his eyes when he looked at you. “But I just wanted you to be mine.”

“I always have been. I was just scared,” you tell him. “The only hunters I ever knew that tried the whole marriage thing were my parents. And Mom died protecting Dad. You’d already been hurt multiple times trying to protect me. And then your dad was telling you the same thing. I panicked and I ran. I’ve been running for four years. I’m so tired of running, Dean.” He smiles softly and reaches up, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Then stop. We don’t have to get married. We don’t have to date or whatever. I just want you right next to me for however long we’ve got left. Because, dammit woman, I love you,” he says. You break into a wide smile before his lips come crashing down against yours. You slide your hands into his hair, parting your lips to him.

For the first time in four years, everything felt right. Dean’s arms around your waist, fisting the shirt at your back. His lips moving hungrily against yours. Your fingers tightening in his hair. He pulls away, breathing heavily. His forehead comes to rest against yours and you sigh.

“I love you too,” you whisper. He smiles then presses his lips to your forehead before you step away from each other. He catches one of your hands, linking your fingers together, as you slowly walk back to the house together.

“Sam’s gonna want to get two rooms now,” he says, You laugh and shake your head. “What? You think I’m gonna be able to keep my hands to myself?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side.

“I think you’ll learn to control yourself, Winchester,” you tell him. He smiles and kisses your temple before pulling the back door open. You pull him back into the house with the rest of your family.

THREE MONTHS LATER

You pull your car into the parking lot of the building and glance over at Dean. He still has his eyes closed but you can see he’s getting impatient. He doesn’t like riding shotgun in someone else’s car, even if that someone else is you. And he definitely doesn’t like not knowing where he’s going. You reach over, putting a calming hand on his arm.

“Alright. You can open your eyes and stop pouting now,” you tell him. If his eyes were open, he’d roll them at you. He turns his head towards you before opening his eyes. You smile at him. “I didn’t bring you out here to stare at me.” He rolls his eyes now and looks out the front windshield. He raises an eyebrow.

“A wedding chapel?” He asks. You bite your lip and nod slightly.

“Not just any wedding chapel,” you tell him. He returns his attention to you now, confused. You turn enough to look behind you. Pointing to the motel across the street, you sigh. “That is where I left you nearly five years ago. And this,” you turn back to the chapel, “is the chapel you wanted to get married in.” You look back at Dean and his face is unreadable. He runs a hand over his jaw slowly.

“Are you proposing to me, Y/N?” He asks, cutting his eyes over at you. “Cause I don’t see a ring.” You bite back a smile and nod.

“Yes, Dean Winchester, I am proposing marriage to you,” you say. He shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s just not a proposal if there isn’t a ring,” he says, looking out the window. You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Dean,” you start but he turns to face you, holding his hand out. What’s laying in his palm takes your breath away. It’s a simple gold band with a single diamond on it. It isn’t much but it’s more than you needed, more than you expected. Your eyes are brimming with tears when you look back up at him.

“You never let me finish that story, all those years ago. Dad told me you were a distraction. I told him I was going to marry you. He pulled this from his pocket and placed it in my hand. Told me if I was absolutely hellbent on marrying you, to give you this,” he says before looking back down at the ring. “It was Mom’s.”

“Oh, Dean,” you gasp. A stray tear manages to slip away and he reaches up, wiping it away quickly.

“What do you say?” He asks. You nod quickly and he smiles, leaning the rest of the way across the front seat to kiss you. Your hands find his face, holding him to you. When you eventually break away, he slips the ring onto your left hand.

“You realize you have to take my name, right?” You ask him. He looks at you quickly, raising an eyebrow. “I asked first, it’s only fair.”

“Technically, I asked first,” he says. You let out a laugh and nod, looking down at the ring on your finger. “Besides Y/N Winchester has a better ring to it than Dean Y/L/N.” You look up at him and there it is in his eyes. Something. That same something you plan to wake up seeing for the rest of your life. Love.

[earthtoharlow]

Teach Me: First Comes Love…

Series Masterlist

Urban took photos as he watched Jack work and nodded his head to whatever beat he was playing in his head but he couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pocket.

With a knowing grin, he nudged Jack and raised an eyebrow. “So, buddy, when are you gonna pop the question?”

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been trying, Urb. But every time I muster up the courage, something goes wrong, and the moment is ruined.”

Urban chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You? Mr. Cool and Collected? I find that hard to believe!”

Jack rolled his eyes playfully, and thought about all the times he tried to propose to Ariel.

Jack had a meeting in New York and since it was spring break they decided to turn it into a weekend trip. Jayla was a couple feet in front of them as they strolled through Central Park. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached in his pocket to make sure the velvet box that seemed to be glued to his pocket was still there.

“Ariel, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

But just as he was about to pop the question, a small brown puppy ran towards Jayla, startling Ariel. “Did you see that?!” she exclaimed, completely oblivious to Jack’s intentions. She skipped over to Jayla who was now playing with the dog in the grass.

Not being a big fan of dogs, Jack signed and he tucked the ring back into his pocket, saving it for another time.

Ariel gasped in delight, bending down to pet the adorable pup. “Oh my goodness, look at this little baby!”

“She’s so cute! I wonder where she came from.” Jayla laughed as the puppy licked her face. “Can we keep her, Mom? Please?”

Ariel knew how Jack felt about dogs or pets in general but the way the puppy cuddled closer to them, eyes wide and hopeful she couldn’t leave them there sad and alone at the park.

When she looked up at Jack, all he could do was sigh and give a slight nod. He would never hear the end of it if he said no.

“I think we just found our newest family member,” Ariel said with a smile.

“Oh so that’s how you guys found Princess Lou Lou!” Urban remarked as Jack finished the story and right on que, Lou Lou scratched at Jack’s legs wanting to be picked up.

Jack reached down and grabbed her, giving her a kiss in the head. “Yes, she’s been a cock blocker since day one!”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring once more. “Just last week I tried to ask her during date night and the waitress interrupted us.”

Urban laughed a little. “Only you, man. But hey, third time’s the charm, right?”!

Despite his frustration, Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at the craziness of it all. “Let’s hope so, Urb. Let’s hope so.”

***

Later that night as Jack laid beside Ariel in bed, the bedside lamp casted a warm light over her face. Jack couldn’t help but marvel over her beauty. She looked so beautiful, just as she did the day they met. Ariel laid there with no makeup on, her dorky reading glasses perched on her nose as she skimmed through the pages of the book.

Jack reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Ariel,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Ariel looked up from her book, a smile spreading across her face at her words. “Really?” She asked, Jack’s words never failed to make her face warm.

He nodded, his heart swelling with love. “Absolutely. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, especially with those dorky reading glasses.”

Ariel laughed and grabbed the extra pillow of the bed and swatted him with it, Jack dodged out the way just in time.

“Well, thank you, I think,” she teased, playfully nudging him with her elbow, and picked up her book again to finish reading.

Jack continued to stare as she read and he realized just how lucky he was that she came into his and Jayla’s life. Despite the ring being hidden in the sock drawer, he could still feel its presence in his thoughts.

Ariel was his soulmate, his partner in life, his one true love and he couldn’t wait any longer to ask her to be his wife.

Without a formal plan or the ring in hand, Jack blurted out the words that had been weighing on his heart for months. “Ariel, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Ariel froze in place, eyes widened as she looked up from her book and towards Jack. “Jack, are you being serious?”

He nodded nervously, unable to tear his gaze away from her. “Completely serious. I’ve been carrying this ring around for months, waiting for the perfect moment. But tonight, right now, with you looking at me like that… This is the perfect moment.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes before she tossed her book aside and threw her arms around Jack nodding vigorously. “Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you!!”

Jack couldn’t contain his happiness, and held her as if he never wanted to let go. He pulled back slightly cupping Ariel’s face in his hands, and gazed into her eyes, his heart bursting with love.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and passion. “I love you more than words can express, Ariel. You mean everything to me. You’ve changed my life.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, savoring the moment.

***

Ariel stirred awake, and felt a weight on her hand. When she opened her eyes she gasped at the beautiful ring, Jack must’ve slipped it on in the middle of the night.

Unable to contain her excitement, she gently shook Jack awake. “Jack.” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, “I still can’t believe it. This ring is gorgeous!”

Jack blinked sleepily, a smile spreading across his face as he realized what she was talking about. “Believe it, Ariel. You’re going to be my wife.”

A surge of happiness washed over Ariel as she leaned in to kiss him. “I don’t want a huge wedding, Jack. I just want to be married to you already.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he sat up, his mind racing with possibilities. “Well, why wait? Should we get dressed and wake Jayla up and head to the courthouse today?”

Ariel’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, eyes lighting up immediately. “Yes, let’s do it!”

They both leaped out of bed, the room buzzing with excitement. Just as Ariel was about to step into the bathroom, Jack stopped her from the bedroom door.

He turned to her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Should we call Urban?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ariel’s heart swelled with love for him, knowing how much his best friend meant to him. Despite their decision to just go to the courthouse, she understood that Jack would regret not having Urban by his side on such an important day.

With a gentle smile, she nodded. “Of course, we should. It wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Jack’s face lit up with gratitude as he reached for his phone, dialing his number with eager anticipation. After a few rings, Urban answered, his voice filled with excitement.

“Urban, I need you to meet me at the courthouse in 2 hours!” Jack exclaimed.

“What huh?”

“Ariel and I just got engaged, and we’re planning to tie the knot soon. We’d love for you to be there with us.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Urban's voice broke through, filled with emotion. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, man. I’ll be there.”

As Jack hung up the phone, a sense of relief washed over him knowing that his best friend would be there. He hurries to Jayla’s room to wake her up.

“Daddy, why are you waking me up before 10am on the weekend!” Jayla whined.

All he could do was laugh at his daughter. “If you don’t want to get up, I’ll guess you’ll have to miss mommy and I getting married.” Jack teased playfully.

Jayla stirred from her sleep, blinking her eyes groggily before realizing what her dad had just said. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she shot up in bed, excitement and disbelief washing over her.

“What? Really?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with astonishment.

Jack nodded with a grin, his heart swelling with love for his daughter. “Yep, really. We’re getting married, Jay. And of course we need you there.”

Her face lit up with pure joy as she threw her arms around her dad, a smile stretching from ear to ear. “That’s amazing, Daddy! Of course, I want to be there!”

As Jack left Jayla’s room to start getting ready himself in the guest bedroom he tried his hardest to not get super emotional but he couldn’t help it.

When Alyssa died it had left him feeling broken and empty inside. Jack had never imagined that he would find love again. He had resigned himself to a life of loneliness, believing that his heart could never fully heal from the pain of losing someone he had loved so deeply.

Then Ariel had come into his life, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. She had shown him kindness, understanding, and unwavering support during his darkest days, slowly but surely helping to mend the broken pieces of his heart.

She had brought light back into his life, filling his days with laughter, love, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow and now in a couple hours she was going to be his wife. This was going to be the best day of his life.

***

With hearts racing and hands tightly clasped together, Jack, Ariel, Jayla with Urban right behind them rushed into the courthouse, their excitement filled the air. Their steps echoed in the grand hallway as they made their way to the front desk, determined to make their impromptu wedding a reality.

Breathless with anticipation, Jack approached the desk clerk, a wide grin on his face. “We’re here to get married,” he announced proudly, his voice filled with excitement.

The desk clerk looked up from her paperwork, surprised by the sudden burst of enthusiasm. But as she took in the sight of the happy family standing before her, her eyes softened with warmth and understanding.

“Of course,” she said with a smile, her fingers flying across the keyboard to pull up the necessary paperwork. “Do you have your IDs with you?”

Jack nodded eagerly, pulling out his wallet to retrieve his ID, while Ariel did the same. With their IDs in hand, they watched as the clerk processed their information, the anticipation building with each passing second.

Finally, with a flourish of her pen, the clerk handed them the marriage license, “Congratulations,” she said warmly, her eyes shining with genuine happiness for the couple before her.

With their marriage license in hand, Jack and Ariel exchanged excited glances, their hearts overflowing with joy. Hand in hand, they made their way to the courthouse chapel, where they would exchange vows and become husband and wife.

Ariel stood there with her hands shaking nervously as the officiant spoke. She was about to become a Harlow. Her heart overflowing with love and emotion, Ariel took a deep breath, her eyes shining with tears of joy. With trembling hands, she reached out to take Jack’s, her fingers intertwining with his as she began to speak.

“Jack,” she began, her voice soft and filled with sincerity, “from the moment you came into my life, you’ve brought nothing but love, laughter, and endless joy. You’ve shown me what it means to love and be loved unconditionally, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes as she continued, her voice filled with emotion. “You’ve been my rock, my partner, and my best friend. You’ve stood by my side through the good times and the bad, supporting me, encouraging me, and believing in me when I needed it most.”

A smile touched Ariel's lips as she looked into Jack’s eyes, her heart overflowing with love. “Today, as I stand before you, I vow to love you with all that I am, to cherish you, to support you, and to be by your side through every twist and turn that life may bring. I promise to laugh with you, to cry with you, and to build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless adventures. You are my everything, Jack, and I am so grateful to be able to call you my husband.”

Ariel turned towards Jayla who was standing next to Urban, her heart swelling with love for the girl who had stolen her heart from the very beginning.

“Jayla” she began, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity, “from the moment I met you, you captured my heart in a way I never thought possible.”

Tears welled up in Ariel’s eyes as she continued. “You’ve been my daughter since day one, Jayla. You’ve brought so much light and happiness into my life, and I am grateful for every moment we’ve shared together.”

“I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. I promise to always be there for you, to support you, to encourage you, and to love you unconditionally, just as you have loved me.”

With tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Ariel pulled Jayla into a tight embrace, holding her close as she whispered, “You are my daughter, Jayla, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I love you more than words can express, and I promise to be the best mother I can be to you, now and always.”

Jack couldn’t help but join in on the hug, forever grateful for his tiny family. He gave them both kisses on the forehead before pulling away so he could say his vows.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he cleared his throat before beginning his vows.

“Ariel,” he started, his voice warm and filled with affection, “from the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. You’ve brought so much love, light, and laughter into my life, and I am eternally grateful for every moment we’ve shared together.”

A grin spread across Jack’s face as he continued, unable to contain his playful spirit. “Now, I have to admit, I don’t know how I’m going to top your vows, Ariel. They were so heartfelt, I’m not sure I can compete!”

Ariel, along with Jayla and Urban’s laughter filled the room as Jack paused for a moment, enjoying the light-hearted moment with his bride-to-be.

“But seriously, Ariel, today I stand before you with all the love in my heart. I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to stand by your side through every moment, big or small. I vow to be your partner, your confidant, and your biggest cheerleader, cheering you on in all your dreams.”

Jack reached up to wipe the tears that had fallen from Ariel’s eyes and gave her a smile. “I am honored to become your husband, I want to spend the rest of my days making you as happy as you have made me. I love you more than words can express, and I am grateful every day for the love and joy you bring into my life.”

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss—“

Jack, not being able to wait, grabbed Ariel pulling her closer and leaned in, pressing his lips eagerly against her own.

Jayla and Urban cheered as Jack and Ariel had their first kiss as husband and wife.

***

After the whirlwind of emotions and celebrations, Jack, Ariel, Jayla and Urban found themselves at home, gathered around the kitchen table. They placed a store-bought cake in the center of the table, without any formalities or fuss, they grabbed forks and began to dig in, savoring each bite of the cake.

Jack leaned in close to Ariel, his voice soft as he whispered, “I can’t believe today happened. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife.”

Ariel’s eyes sparkled with happiness as she whispered back, “And I’m the luckiest woman to have you as my husband. Today was perfect, Jack. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

Jack glanced at Ariel, a playful twinkle in his eye as he whispered, “When should we tell our families?”

Ariel chuckled softly, her heart warmed by the thought of sharing their joy with their loved ones. “I think we should tell them soon,” she replied, her voice filled with excitement. “Maggie has been pretty much begging you to marry me since we’ve met.”

He nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. “I can’t wait to see the looks on her face when we tell her,” he said, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

As Ariel rested her head on Jack’s shoulder, a contented sigh escaped her lips. “I’m just so happy,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Jack wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I am too,” he murmured, his voice soft with love. “Today has been everything I ever dreamed of and more.”

***

THEN COMES MARRIAGE!!!!! 🤭🤭 hope you all enjoyed this let me know yours thoughts

Tag List

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[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Listing a few funny things that happened when Angel had to deal with the media, post rescuing everyone from Playtime Co:

Angel, still shaking from spending one week inside the factory and with dried blood still glued to their hair, smelling like hell, politely answering some questions while in the hospital while waiting for Dogday's emergency surgery to finish.

The media being obsessed with calling Angel, whose actual name is Raphael Taylor de Oliveira, "Angel" the moment they hear one of the toys referring to them as that.

Combine the religious imagery with Angel's poor little meow meow wet kitten born in a cardboard box with every disease face and we have a very, very easy way for making the narrative out to be "a kind ex-worker at Playtime Co. discovers that children were used as experiments inside the factory and risks their own life in order to save them".

Angel is instant-loved by Brazil the moment the first news start to arrive, which is something they're very proud of.

Angel having to hold Catnap and Mommy Long Legs by their hands while giving out an interview in their home, so neither one of them would be too mean to the poor reporters. Angel still has to tell them to be nicer though.

The cops and investigators having to explain why they didn't figure out there was something wrong with the factory when all Angel had to do was walk inside and say hello to the Huggy Wuggy statue.

A reporter explaining the horrific events while in the background Huggy stares at her like "smoll person :0}" and boops her. Cue to Angel saying sorry and anxiously guiding him away.

"What did you have to eat while trapped down there?", someone asks, and the toys all go "oh hahahaha. uhm. rats. and the bodies of our friends WHEN THEY INEVITABLY DIED FROM A DISEASE. we didnt hunt each other dw dw hahahahahaha".

Angel a few months later, after buying the farm, giving a "house tour" so people will know the kids are doing okay and stop pestering them about house-related questions. Angel is very excitedly telling the reporter about how much more space they have now while Catnap is eyeing a bird in the background. "Theo don't you think about that, you have food right there".

One of the mini critters listing all the toys that were gifted for them and saying "it's very nice, very chewable", I like how it tastes" and Angel looks at them like "so it's YOU who has been chewing the toys??????", with the reply being "and the doors as well!"

Catnap going from referring to Angel as "our savior" to simply "our mother" during any interviews or news reports where he somehow talks.

Everyone wanting to interview Dogday because he does, indeed, have a radiant and happy energy and audiences love him.

Angel saying "and the hut is the house of 1006, the first one to ever happen, but he would prefer if we just left him alone".

Poppy being someone who's always SUPER pleasant to work with, and excitedly telling the reporters everything they have been doing around the farm.

Angel sighing after finding out Prototype is Elliot Ludwig, KNOWING they'll have to tell the authorities so they can have license money and control over the Playtime Co. brand.

Angel turning to the family's lawyer like "you won't believe what I just found out", the lawyer saying "oh, this won't be the most absurd thing you told me yet", then after hearing Angel tell her about it going "oh, you are always full of surprises, uh. Uhm. Now that makes things complicated", and Angel laughing to the point of tears after that.

ALL the news reports during the trial against Playtime Co.'s higher ups and the negligent authorities. Kickin keeps a collection of the "best moments", which include Angel beating the ever living shit out of a higher up after he refers to the toys as "things" and "collateral damage" instead of "victims of human experimentation".

The news about the fact that apparently Elliot Ludwig became the first PlayCo. experiment ever, and Angel + Poppy having to deal with THAT.

Prototype's single public apparition, around 4/5 years post-rescue, because he had to go to court as well so Angel would have a chance of getting the rights to PlayCo. and all of its properties back to them.

The news when Dogday and Catnap get married, a whole decade post-rescue.

Angel just dropping the most cryptid information ever in social media or during one of the rare interviews they're willing to give after the initial years post-rescue. They tweet things like "I saw some people asking if any of the toys ever attacked me during the week I stayed at PlayCo, and I want everyone to know that all of them at some point did. But don't worry, I bit them back, we're all good now" and one time say "my husband and I like to grow tomatoes like this, but one of our daughters has been trying another way" and that's how everyone finds out Angel and Prototype are a Thing.

Craftycorn happily blogging her life as an artist and featuring all of the other toys during her videos, while Poppy does makeup and sewing tutorials, and the two of them doing collabs and livestreams often. During one of the streams Angel screams "THEODORE GRAMBELL LUDWIG OLIVEIRA DID YOU JUST HUNT A COYOTE AGAIN", and that's how Crafty and Poppy's fans discover everyone decided to add Ludwig Oliveira to their names.

I would say more but honestly this post has been getting pretty long so rip

[slowburningechoes]

confessions over cocoa ❆

Summary: Sipping on hot chocolate with the love of your life seems like the perfect time to reveal the secret you've been keeping.

Pairing: Domestic!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: just some tooth rotting fluff, domestic Christmas activities, caloric consumption, pregnancy, giving this man children because CBS writers are cowards

Word Count: 1.2k

"Seems your PhD in chemistry is finally coming in handy," you tease, sipping on a mug full of hot chocolate Spencer had made from scratch.

A scoff fell from his lips, "Finally? You know I've defused chemical bombs and deciphered the elements in hundreds of biological and chemical weapons, right?"

You roll your eyes sarcastically, "Yes, I know, boy genius. I'm just saying that all this is the best application of your skills." You lift your mug up and point to it.

"Well, I'm glad that my years of academic research has yielded an expert cup of hot cocoa for you," Spencer rolled his eyes, pouring some from the warm pot and into a mug that matched yours.

"Don't forget the homemade sugar cookies last week," you add, smirking at him mischievously.

Spencer almost spits out his drink as he laughs. "I should've just become a baker instead of a profiler, huh?"

You sit your cup down on the island and move to place your body in front of his. "No, we still need to work on your icing skills, honey."

"Presentation isn't everything - like you said, they were delicious," Spencer sat his mug down, too, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"And either way you'd be busy this time of year," you say, matter-of-factly.

"Hmmm, that's true," he leaned down, pressing his lips against your forehead. "But at least as a baker, I'd have some down time throughout."

You found yourself shaking your head, "You're proud of the work you do and I am proud of you. I wouldn't want to change that for all the endless sweets in the world. Besides, I hold down the fort pretty well while you're away."

"I hate that you have to do so much on your own," he whispers, running his fingers down your spine. "You run the bookstore, you check in on my mother, and you take care of everything here. You even managed to put up all of these Christmas decorations without needing me to reach something for you."

You slap his arm lightly in response to the joke about your height before pulling him into the living room with you. His expression was one of confusion as you rustled under the ornamented tree.

"What are you looking for, baby?" he inquired, attempting to aid in your search.

Before you can respond, you spot it - a small rectangular box wrapped in dark green paper with a golden twisted ribbon on top. You turned to him, holding it in your hand unsteadily.

"I was going to save this until the morning since it will officially be Christmas," you begin, "but I feel like now is the perfect time for this gift."

You had it to Spencer, who still had a curious look on his face.

As he rustled with the paper, you added, "Also, I love taking care of things here. I love taking care of you - of us."

A smile spread across his face, popping off the lid of the sturdy box. "I love you, y/n." He unfolds the tissue paper that hid the gift.

"I love you, too," you respond, rocking back and forth on your toes waiting for him to see it.

Spencer lifted up the small round object into the palm of his hand, admiring its ceramic detail. "An ornament?" he asked, a befuddled yet pleasant tone in his voice.

"Just one last one to hang before tomorrow morning," you bite your bottom lip nervously, moving to his side to view the ornament next to him. "Look at it closely."

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and squinted to read the engraved script. As he realized, his breathing became hitched and his jaw dropped. The room was silent for a moment longer than you expected, which made the lump of anxiety grow in your throat.

"Soon to be...," he read, tracing his fingers over the text. "A family of three?"

"The rhyme is cheesy, I know but-," you justify before he cut you off.

"You're pregnant?" Spencer asks, his voice soft but higher in pitch. Tears began to form in his eyes and he softly bit down on his lower lip.

You nod earnestly, your eyes also beginning to fill with tears. "Mhm, turn it over." He doesn't move though, so you reach into his palm and flip it over yourself.

The opposite side revealed a picture from your ultrasound. The fetus was just defined enough for the various parts of his body to be obvious. As soon as Spencer laid eyes on it, he raised his free hand to wipe away the tears that were now rolling down his flushed cheeks.

"H-how long have you known?" he asked, barely able to get the words to escape his mouth.

"I had my suspicions when I missed my cycle awhile back, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions," you begin, rubbing your thumb against your sweaty hand. "But then it still hadn't come when you left for the case last weekend, so I bought a few tests. They all came back positive... but I still couldn't believe it, so I went to the doctor where they confirmed it with a blood test and well - this. She says I'm eight weeks along."

You looked up at him with anxious yet hopeful eyes. His eyes broke from his trance on the ornament to you and a huge grin spread across his face. The mix of happy tears streaming down his face and his goofy smile makes you fall for him even deeper.

"Y/n," Spencer sighs, placing his free hand on the side of your face, before kissing you fiercely. "I-I can't believe it. We're going to be parents, I-I'm going to be a father!"

His hands quickly moved to place the ornament safely on the tree before dropping to his knees in front of you.

Spencer gently placed his head against your stomach and began whispering to your unborn child. "I already love you so much, little one. You have no idea how excited I am to meet you."

You practically melted in that moment, just admiring his attentive nature and softness. He had waited forever to have children and you had talked about it for years, but it hadn't happened until now. You always knew he would make the perfect father and this just confirmed it all.

"You are already so perfect," he says in a hush. "I can't wait to hold you."

You run your fingers through his curls, pressing him against you softly. "What do you think it is, Spence? A boy or a girl?"

"I don't even have a guess - b-but, truly I don't think I have a preference either way," he responds, coming back up to his feet and embracing you. "Either way, this baby will be so loved. I can't believe we made a baby."

"Hopefully they're just as smart and charming as you," you say, cuddling into his chest.

"I already know they'll be beautiful like their mother," Spencer mumbles against your skin, placing a firm kiss upon the top of your chest.

You had always felt that "home" feeling wrapped in Spencer's arms, but something about carrying his child inside you and bringing them into the world made you feel complete. Even just the two of you made a family, but this third addition was the most welcomed gift you could have received this holiday season.

[setsugekka]

『atarashī 』 ; 04

❝ loose fabrics, loose strings ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [5,1k wc] ch cws: pining and wanting and wanting and desiring!, drama, mystery⁉

"We can't stay here all night, you know."

You do know—hardly need a reminder, in fact. 

Yeosang's car is still parked out front next to the street, his usual spot, and it is oh so telling of his comfort in remaining precisely where you left him even after the catastrophe that was your engagements earlier in the evening. Part of you wishes him to be the type to go out after you, attempt to come find you, call and text and worry himself sick about where it is that you've run off to because of him; he never has been that person though. Always perfectly happy to allow you your space when it's obvious that you need it.

The healthy option, not always the one that in some strange way we crave. To be chased, to be wanted, to be obsessed over. 

That was never your husband.

You take another hard sip from the open container of whiskey that Seonghwa has so kindly risked legal disaster over, close it up and push it back into the glove box just in front of you before slumping back down into the passenger seat of his car.

"He's probably worried."

You know he isn't. It's not something worth arguing over, though you can't help the amused huff that escapes your lungs at the mere mention of something so absurd. I wish, you think to yourself.

Truth is, you're precisely where Yeosang likely assumes you to be—off with Seonghwa, doing God knows what that your husband seems to hold with such contempt. 

But that isn't the only place you've been tonight, and something about that perfectly kept secret feels like a knife held to the back of the man that you love so dearly, not yet carving its way in; something dastardly that only you know of.

"I know, I'm going," you sigh, unbuckling your seatbelt and finally going through the motions to exit the vehicle. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Pretty bogged down with work for the next couple of weeks, so try not to have anymore marital disasters, it'll be difficult managing that on top of everything else."

You flash Seonghwa a thin-lipped smile, straight across and the most you can muster up, but he offers you the same as well as a soft tap of his hand atop your thigh.

"It's gonna be okay, you guys are gonna get through this, alright?"

"I just," you pause, dumbfounded by it all over again as you think it through for the umpteenth time tonight. "Why now? Why a baby now?"

Seonghwa shrugs. "He probably feels like he's losing you. The distance is difficult on him, too, it's not a good way of going about it but he probably thinks it'll keep you together."

Silence passes between the two of you after that—the darkness of night blanketing the car save for one overhead streetlamp still a good amount of distance away, barely offering any illumination to where it is that the both of you sit.

"Can I ask you something?"

The question comes suddenly, piques your interest and has you turning your full attention towards your friend as you gather your belongings with intention of leaving him. Seonghwa's eyes don't meet your own, however—almost as if harboring guilt for what it is that he's about to say.

"Do you want to have a baby?"

Pushing down the desire to immediately combat the question—anger, confusion, shock—all feelings that are the quickest to bubble up. You set them to the side and instead choose to engage in the topic honestly, because it's what Seonghwa deserves after years of friendship, and in being so perceptive.

"I used to."

"But you don't anymore."

You pause, swallowing hard because in so many ways, all of the options presented before you feel wrong in some facet. Nothing feels completely, perfectly as it should be.

"Not right now," you say with a small shake of your head. "Not like this, not with him gone so much."

"You have to tell him."

"I have—" 

"Not that it's because of his job, not that he's not around enough. You have to tell him you don't want to have a baby anymore and then take the conversation from there." Seonghwa finally glances up at you again, then raises a hand to turn on the ignition to the car. "He's not going to get it otherwise."

"Yeah." The response from you is bland, lifeless. You push open the door and sling one leg out in preparation to leave.

"Babe."

Startling awake in the darkness of your bedroom and the warmth of your bed, it takes you a few seconds to really come into consciousness—realize that someone is the reason that you're no longer asleep—and as you turn to face where the edge of your side of the bed awaits, you feel the disappearance of your husband's touch from your side.

"I have to go," Yeosang says, a whisper in the still of night. "I got called in."

"Now?" you ask, though that has already been answered for you and you realize as much just a moment after the words escape from you. Instead, you sit up in bed and reach out for him. "When are you coming back?"

Yeosang sits at the edge of the bed, wraps strong arms around your shoulders and head to cradle your form against him.

"I won't be long, just a couple of days this time. Probably back by Friday."

You don't reply, instead allowing yourself to be held by him in silence—your mind swimming with the events from the night prior—displeased with this being the way that everything is coming to a conclusion. You've not spoken of it, not settled it; and now you wonder if there's any reason to bring it up by the time the end of the week rolls around and your husband returns home.

A statute of limitations.

At the same time, there is a sort of relief in Yeosang being gone for a few days. He calls infrequently on account of the workload, and as a byproduct of that, any such conversations in relation to the topic that you wish not to revisit are to be held off on for the foreseeable future. Time for your mind to spend time elsewhere; lunch with a friend from the Akademiya later in the week, and beyond that, Aurelia can still use some tending towards the smaller details.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you." Yeosang kisses the top of your head.

And just like that, he's gone once more. You are alone.

The following few days go by in a flash, and without much to report. For that, you are thankful.

Students from the Akademiya come and go at their leisure—typical of the school year—during the weekdays, the halls and rooms are often bustling with movement between people with arms full of books, fabrics, or props in order to bring whatever it is that they're constructing finally come to life before their eyes. Many of them are talented; young, budding prospects with so much ahead of them as far as their craft and career. It reminds you much of yourself back in college and even before, when the arts were still very much a part of your own life, rather than something that you have long since pushed aside in order to accommodate others in their own.

Around five in the afternoon is when the trickle finally begins to see its end. The last few overachievers finally calling it quits for the day and putting the final touches in place so that they can return to it the next day. Chairs strewn together and costumes laid out across them—string lights attached to ladders for added ambiance to a scene—you remind one of them to turn them off before they rush out, having forgotten the fact entirely in the whirlwind of wanting to catch up to their peers.

You remember what it's like to be them, and hell, sometimes you even miss it. A chapter of your life that has never really felt finished, just placed to the side because other things have since taken precedence. A husband, Aurelia; a new, more grown up chapter of your life.

That's what Yeosang would call it anyway.

With the students gone, you settle in for your next task; traversing the grounds to pick up after them for any food items forgotten that may attract bugs or rodents, dangers such as left out scissors, knives, pins. Easy to lose track of, you don't blame them. It gives you something to do to pass the time that isn't answering emails or sorting through paperwork in relation to all of the structural damage that the site still needs tending to in the next upcoming months.

When you make your way back into the main hall of the building, you turn to head towards the office, but just before you take the first step that way, the cracked open doors of one of the smaller theater rooms—and one you've recently visited before—catches your eye with an earnest curiosity.

Because as far as you know, everyone has left the premises except for you.

There's hesitancy, because you already believe yourself to know who it is that resides on the other side of them, but the crack in the door serves as some sort of beckoning towards you that you find difficult to shake. An invitation, of sorts.

Are you being invited? 

You glance around yourself, but no one else is around. A few careful steps towards the door later and you're peeking inside ever so slightly, as if concerned about stumbling upon something that is not for your eyes, as if everything that happens in this building isn't your business in some way.

But you do find exactly who it is that you anticipate seeing, and his attention pulls to you just as instantaneously.

"Nosy."

Pushing the door open into a wider crack to fit yourself through, you slowly carry yourself down the walkway and past the numerous rows of seats towards Hongjoong as he stands hunched over in front of one of them, hands busy at work.

"I don't think it counts as being nosy when it's my job to know everything that happens in here anyway."

He doesn't reply, keeps working. You stop just beside him and look down at the pile of jumbled, white fabric that lie sprawled out across a couple of the chairs.

"You're always here late," you say.

"I always have work to do."

"For someone who struggles to find the will to graduate, you sure are always busy working."

Hongjoong glances up from the pile at that, but only for a second before he goes back to tending to it. "Anything else?"

You don't mean to frustrate him more than he already seems to be, but the banter that typically carries on between you is evidently not appreciated right now. You apologize, even take a step back to create some space, but it appears to only upset him more as he stands straight with a disgruntled sigh—a slow blink up towards the ceiling before his gaze falls to you once again.

"Sorry, I just—" Hongjoong lazily gestures to the pile. "I need to get this done and I can't find the fucking dress form. Someone must have found it and taken it for their own project."

"I probably have another one somewhere in the basement," you say. "I promise you won't have to go this whole school year sharing one dress form among however many students."

"Sounds like we're going to be here all night while you try and locate it if it's just somewhere in the basement."

Not far from the truth, but before you have a chance to protest any further, Hongjoong's hand is gripping at your wrist and pulling you closer toward himself once again. There's a stumble to your step as a result of the abruptness, but more than that, you aren't particularly fond of the ease in which he seems willing to put his hands on you.

"Wanna do me a favor?"

The words drop from his mouth barely above a whisper, and within the tone lies that specific kind of devilishness from him that you've grown far too aware of in the very short amount of time that the two of you have known one another. 

And worse than that even, his hand still lies locked around your wrist.

"I just need to get a couple of pins in this garment last minute, and it would be such a help if—" Hongjoong's words trail off, but that very same devious hand travels up your arm and instead settles at the nape of your neck. Fingertips brushing lightly against the small hairs and the warm flesh there before pretending as though there were never there at all and settling into the collar of your coat—as intended. "You could let me use you."

Between the light touches and the final words falling from his mouth, narrow eyes locked onto your own and a shiver that threatens to snake up your spine as a result of it, you fight it back. Everything. Ignoring the way that beneath your coat lies goosebumps all across your skin, and how fiery hot his eyes feel on you when he does this. As if you're the only person in the world, perhaps the only two people in the world right now, in this moment. 

Throat dry and heart beating hard against your chest, your lips part to speak finally but Hongjoong follows himself up faster than you're able to gather yourself. You're somewhat thankful for that, at least.

"I mean, let me use you as a dress form, obviously."

You finally swallow, attempt to shake off the nervousness that has no business being there to begin with. "I don't think that's a good idea, surely the measurements wouldn't even be accurate."

Hongjoong grins, one corner of his lips curling upwards. Somehow, you've landed yourself in a game with him and you never even saw it coming.

"The exact measurements for what I need aren't important, it's just for some detailing that I need to check to see how it looks on an actual body."

His hand slips down from your neck then, down your back and to the small of it—lingers there for just a moment before finally pulling from you entirely. "But if you're uncomfortable with it, that's okay. I can find some time to do it tomorrow—"

"No, it's fine," you say, against your better judgement. "We're already here so we might as well. I'd like to help."

You ignore the part of you that understands the lie that dwells intertwined somewhere beneath the innocence of your own words.

But when Hongjoong's hands come up again to shift beneath your coat and help you shrug the fabric from your body, you can't help but watch him as he does it. His eyes never meet your own from where he stands in front of you as he casually undresses you like this, and though you find yourself completely lost in the moment—willing to allow for your belongings to fall to the floor behind you in an effort to not extract your sight for even a second—Hongjoong isn't, taking your coat into his hands and folding it thoughtfully onto one of the backs of the chairs just beside you.

Only then do his eyes meet yours. A silent lingering that comes and then goes in an instant to you, but you find yourself quietly seeking more.

"I'm just going to wrap this around you, you don't have to do anything," Hongjoong says, reaching down for the garment as if nothing out of the ordinary is even taking place. Suppose that for him, it isn't, but you find that hard to believe.

Surely, you're not the only one aware of the heaviness. The weighted air of the room between you two. 

Something that you have no business paying any mind to, either. It's nothing, would never be anything, could never be anything for a plethora of reasons. 

But for whatever reason, Hongjoong seems to find himself gravitating towards you especially, and you find yourself finding more and more willingness with each and every passing day to give in to the pull of him. 

Harmless. It's harmless. Like flirting with the pool boy, or letting the nice guy at the bar buy you a drink when you're out with your girl friends. Nothing ever actually comes of these situations except for a reinvigorated sense of self. That you've still got it, that you're still alive.

That you're more than the potential children that you can provide.

Hongjoong's hands are skilled and his movements purposeful as he wraps the fabric around your torso. The occasional pause—a pin—then back to work until the entirety of the garment is draped over your body with such an easy elegance. Hongjoong slips behind you for the final touches, pulls it taut, but you can feel him attempting to maneuver your shirt in a way that doesn't obstruct the rest of what it is that he is trying to accomplish. He doesn't say anything at first, but you can tell something is wrong, so you take it upon yourself with a quick, worried glance over your shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

He chuckles under his breath at first, crouched down when you ask but then coming back up to standing and meeting your eyes from over your shoulder. "I don't think you're going to like it."

But before you have a chance to answer verbally, the feeling of his fingertips is felt on the flesh of your back and beneath your shirt—bare, skin on skin—light as a feather as it trails slowly up your spine and pulls your shirt up along with him.

You feel his presence closer then, less space between your bodies; and when he speaks, the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear.

"Is it okay," he starts, a whisper. Still touching you. "To take your shirt off? It's in the way."

Hands coming up to the buttons of the front of your blouse as if with no free will of your own—one button, two buttons—all of them undone by your own hand and it is discarded, this time, to the floor.

"Thanks."

You don't respond, unsure of your ability to fight against the tremble in your voice if you were to try. Hongjoong continues his work at your back while you hold the garment in place to keep you covered at your front.

You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be doing this. Your resolve runs out in an instant.

"Are you almost finished?" you ask, quickly. To the point. 

Hongjoong's hands still momentarily before getting back to work, surprised by the protest, no doubt.

"Husband going to be upset?"

You laugh, almost too loudly given how apt the question is. Really, you're laughing at yourself.

"He wouldn't be pleased, I'm sure."

Hongjoong pulls another bit of fabric firmer at your back. "Did you two work things out the last time?"

"I'm still married, if that's what you're asking," you snap at him, not meaning to, but perhaps necessary all the same.

Silence falls between the both of you, and he continues to work for only a few seconds more before stopping and removing his hands from your form entirely. You lose awareness of his proximity to you for a short time—until you feel him closely imposing upon you from behind all over again, just like before. Mouth mere inches from the crook of your neck as he speaks.

"You need to get out more, you're way too on edge."

"And who do you suggest I get out more with?" you question, still a hanging bite to your tone.

"I'm guessing you could have just about anything you want," he answers, airy and suggestive with no intention of holding back for misinterpretation. "Just depends on what, exactly, you want. Doesn't it?"

The combination of his warm breath on your skin, Hongjoong's alluring words intended to entice you—you'd suspected him to have taken something of a liking to you—perhaps in passing, just something pretty to keep his eye on in the halls when boredom otherwise takes him. This, however, you were not anticipating.

It sets your nerves on fire beneath your skin to feel such a devout and tantalizing interest in you. No long work trips that leave you wanting and missing, no conversations of babies and settling down; in split second moments like this one, with Hongjoong, all that exists is the fact that he wants you. Desires you. 

And that by itself is enough to have you shivering where you stand, ignoring the dull thrum of arousal that makes itself known in spite of everything.

"I should go—"

You say the words, hardly mean them. The angel and the devil sitting equal on each shoulder, but tonight, the angel wins.

Hongjoong is already finishing making his marks and unpinning the garment before you've even gotten the chance to finish the sentence, however. Must not have noticed him working to do so, must have been lost in thoughts that you don't particularly need to be giving time or space to, anyway.

The fabric falls from you and you're fast to turn and attempt to locate your shirt, Hongjoong is just as quick though—already having it in his hands by the time you turn around to face him and put it back on your body.

Your eyes meet as you dress yourself once more, and slowly buttoning the shirt, you anticipate his eyes to fall just a bit lower to take in the sights—but as if not wanting to until shared with him solely for the purpose of being for his eyes—Hongjoong never glances down, not even for a second. 

His gaze into yours feels almost filthier, and the perked up corner of his lip tells a similar tale of thoughts that doubtlessly run through his mind.

When the final button is done, you reach down swiftly to grab at your coat and begin to put that on as well.

You inhale sharply with intent. "I might not be a staff member of the Akademiya but I work closely enough in affiliation that it's ill-advised to fraternize with the students." You give pause, wait to see if he has anything to say on the matter thus far. He does not. "I'm a happily married woman, and as if those aren't enough of a reason; aren't you a bit young for me."

It's not a question, rather a statement. It only makes Hongjoong's grin widen, however.

"How old are you?"

You roll your eyes, because this is hardly the point. "Thirty. I just turned thirty. Now, if you don't mind, I have more work to tend to. Please clean up after yourself before you head out for the night."

Shuffling off and back up towards the door, you can't run, it would make it too uncomfortable. But you want to. You want to run out of there and never look back.

Hand on the large doorknob, you pull it open once more. The words ring so sharply through your ears that it gives you pause for a moment, but still—you've got to escape.

From down the way and with garment still in hand, Hongjoong smiles up at your back, because you don't have the will to face him any further. Because God forbid you do.

"Happy birthday."

The next day, you have a date down at the Akademiya.

Much needed, because the less time you spend at Aurelia, the better. Your husband is slated to arrive back home tomorrow, and you can't imagine what you could need more than the loving embrace of the man that you love.

And a cold shower, but you've already taken it upon yourself to indulge that.

Of course, staying away from the theaters halls is far from a reasonable fix. You work there, it's your job to be around and manage the grounds—being of aid to the students, as well. It really shouldn't matter if one of them has taken a particular interest in you, and it certainly shouldn't be having you indulging in a brief fantasy of what if, as you've been from time to time since last night.

Something about the way that Hongjoong looks at you, talks to you. It makes you feel drunk with power, with desirability.

"Don't be jealous, you're still my favorite."

You've not stopped thinking about those words since he said them at the jazz bar.

Thinking, maybe even allowing yourself a fantasy now and then is one thing—permissible, even. It's been seven years with Yeosang, and now that you think about it as you walk the stoned walkway of the green courtyard towards your destination, besides him, the last man that you'd felt the touch of having been Seonghwa.

Much along the lines of the same topic: the touching has to stop. Trading knowing glances between adults who, if circumstances were different, might find themselves physically engaged with one another is one thing, but once acknowledged, you understand well enough the difficultly in maintaining necessary boundaries if even one is broken.

You reach the tall, glass doors to the on-campus cafe and open them. Met with the scent of fresh bread, meats and coffee, you step inside with a careful glance and find your friend easily as he casually sits just beside the door for easy locating.

"Hey!" he says, chipper. Standing quickly and greeting you with a hug. The both of you sit across from one another, he smiles. "Feels like it's been forever since we met, though I suppose that's how it goes during break."

Jeong Yunho. Used-to-be arts related professor now happily engaging in biology, instead. Perfectly laid brown hair and nicely pressed matching dress wear.

The guy that ultimately talked you out of selling Aurelia back when Yeosang first pushed for it a few years back. Said you would regret it if you did. You believe him to have been right.

"What have you been up to? How's the theater?" he asks, mug pressed to his lips.

"You would know if you ever came around," you joke back, picking a fry from his plate and taking it for yourself. "Pretty much the same as always."

"I know, I'm sorry, I've been busy with curricular planning, didn't do as much as I probably should have over the break—"

"So none."

Yunho snorts a laugh into his drink, shrugs as if he's been caught in the lie blatantly. "Okay, yes. I promise I'll try to sneak by in the new couple of weeks. How is the new batch of students?"

You're halfway into taking a sip from a bottle of water—eyes meeting his for a second but it's telling enough of the fact that yeah, there's something to be said in relation to that—and Yunho must not be expecting such a tell because he physically reels at the sight of it.

"What?"

You screw the cap back on the bottle and sigh, leaning forward across the table just a bit more so that you're able to lower your voice a touch. "There's a student that has taken something of a liking to me, I think."

But most shocking of all is Yunho's lack of surprise given this information. His lips thin into a line, leans back against his chair and folds his arms over his chest instead. A beat of quiet—nothing more than the noisy muttering around you from a busy cafe—passes between the two of you before he finally speaks up.

"Who?"

Discomfort creeps up beneath your skin, expecting this conversation to go lightly, differently—not anticipating feeling as if you're under so much scrutiny. 

"Uh, costuming major, Kim—" 

"Kim Hongjoong."

Now you're the one reeling, eyebrows tightly fitting together. "Yeah. Wait, what do you know about him?"

"Not a lot, which is sort of the problem." Yunho leans in towards you again, drops his voice to something more quiet and kept between the two of you. "You know I'm friends with the woman working in admissions—"

"You're sleeping with her, just say that."

"Okay, focus," Yunho huffs a laugh. "I don't know what Hongjoong told you about his past schooling misadventures, but the thing that's particularly suspicious about it all isn't the fact that he can't seem to graduate. A lot of people can't graduate, or even transfer schools, that's not what's strange."

"Then what is it?"

"Nearly his entire record is sealed."

Yunho leans back again, pops his eyebrows up in a silent see? told you, that has you silently mulling over everything it is that the man has ever told you—not that it's much. Hongjoong doesn't talk about himself, in fact, the majority of the time spent with him, he's talking about you. 

Now you sort of wonder why that is.

"It might not mean anything, but it could. It's certainly bizarre. I haven't looked it over myself, nor can I even really get a hold of his permanent record with ease, but from what she told me a lot of it is redacted. Whole years just wiped from the slate."

You blink a few times, let the words sink in. Yunho knows you too well, kicks your leg lightly from under the table to gain your attention again.

"I know he's a student, so there's only so much that you can do, but if you want my advice? I'd steer clear of that one. Seems like he's going to be a problem if he can sink his teeth into something."

Hongjoong, a problem. It seems so far from the realm of possibility given what you know about the guy. He's nice enough, kindly mannered, and mostly just tends to himself. 

Except when it comes to you.

"What do you think he could be...after?" you ask, unsure of the wording of the question yourself.

Yunho shrugs. "No idea, and I don't particularly think that we should try to find out. Be kind, be cordial, do what you have to do to get him his degree finally and lets get him the fuck out of the Akademiya before he does who knows what."

You take another sip of water.

"Do you think you can get his record unsealed?"

He pouts in thought, a cute habit of his that you're fond of. Unfitting of the gravity of the discussion but appreciated nonetheless. "It would take some time, for sure."

Your phone vibrates then—Yeosang calling—and you bid Yunho farewell in order to take it. Darting up and twisting towards the door, Yunho calls out to you one last time before you're able to slip through, and away altogether.

"Why do you want to know?"

The vibration of your husband's phone call tingling like needles within your grasp.

"Curious," you say. Not really a lie. You force out a small laugh. "Want to know what I'm up against."

Alarmingly true. 

"Hello beloved, I've missed you."

a/n: a certain akademiya student is becoming a problemmmmmm a problem of carnal wanting...well, carnal curiosity? 🤔 well, i'm sure it will be fine 🤣

[elitadream]

I think a gift that Luigi would give Mario for his birthday would be a wood carving kit like one of the professional ones with all the fancy tools for carving, sanding and sculpting, along with a few blocks of wood. He saved up all his money specifically for that and nothing else. And Mario can’t constrain his overwhelming joy over receiving such a thoughtful gift.

He cherishes it, truly, handles it with care and love just as he does Luigi.

AHH I love this idea so much!! 😍🛠✨️

I can especially see this ocurring as a flashback from when they were both still on Earth. Luigi buying this for Mario despite how rough times were back then, because he knows the hobby brings him a lot of joy. 🥺

"Fratellino...! You shouldn't have," Mario would gasp as he would unwrap his present, gazing down at the beautiful kit with a mix of wonder and dismay.

"Oh, hush!" Luigi would dimiss affectionately, patting the box and inviting Mario to open it. "We both know you've wanted one for ages. When was the last time you've treated yourself? You never indulge in any personal expenses!"

"Because I can't afford it," Mario would murmur with a furtive glance to their dingy appartment, giving Luigi a pointed look when the lightbulb above them would suddenly start to flicker.

Undeterred, Luigi would merely shrug and sit beside him, his eyes soft and compassionate.

"Please, take it," he would insist, with a knowing smile. "Please. I know how hard you try. I see it everyday. Saying that you deserve it would be an understatement. It was the least I could do."

Mario would grimace slightly at his brother's words, feeling a simultaneous pang of guilt and love in his chest.

"Thank you," he would finally say in quiet surrender, turning to give Luigi a fierce hug.

Much later, when they would both celebrate their first anniversary in the Mushroom Kingdom, Luigi would be elated to learn that the princess has given Mario full reign of the north wing's workshop, essentially letting him have it all to himself. While on his way to greet him there, he would huff with a lopsided grin upon thinking of how vast of an improvement this is over the meagre selection of tools he had offered him back then, but to his surprise, he would find Mario working at the nearest desk... with his kit laid out beside him. He would remember that this was one of the few objects that Mario had been very adamant about retrieving from Earth before the portal vanished, but he had believed it to be merely as a souvenir and would be confused as to why Mario would even bother still using it now.

"Seriously?" He would quip bemusedly as he would enter the room, causing Mario to break from his current train of thought with a start. "I can't believe you sometimes."

"What?" Mario would retort, a helpless smile tugging at his lips.

"Mario, half of these are worn down to a nub, and the other half is completely obsolete. Why keep a rusty old bike when you can have a Ferrari, eh?"

Luigi would nudge him with a smirk, pleased with his own comparison, but Mario wouldn't seem to find much humor in it. Instead, he would stare at the blueprint lying on the desk's surface and would shake his head slowly, his expression one of deep nostalgia and gratitude.

"The old bike has infinitely more value to me than any Ferrari, Lamborghini or Maserati ever could have," he would answer simply, his tone filled with warmth and appreciativeness.

Luigi would sigh dramatically at that, however beaming at the compliment.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he would concede with a playful roll of his eyes. "Just- promise me to use these shiny new toys every once in a while, alright? It's not everyday one of your craziest dreams come true! Might as well make the most of it."

He would ruffle Mario's hair and give him a wink before leaving him to his project, but would secretly feel very touched and a little emotional that Mario views his gift with such importance. ☺️💞

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 22

Today we're going to get a little... strapped.

Character: Yamato, Ace D. Portgas Reader: cis!fem Reader Warnings: Vaginal fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome, hitachi wand, strap-on, he/him Yamato as is proper, swearing, 18+

Summary: Yamato has a new, 11 inch long rainbow strap and wants to test it out. You're unsure about it fitting, but Ace is up for the challenge. -:- 3,197 words

Toy Box

“I can’t take that!” You exclaim, pointing at the 11”, threateningly thick, pale rainbow colored strap that Yamato’s holding in his hand. You look down at your own crotch as if to prove some sort of point. “Yams, I’m entirely too small, you’ll bottom out before you get it all in.”

Yamato is the tallest of the three of you, and you feel bad as his shoulders droop a little. You didn't want to disappoint him, but you knew your physical limits, and that was beyond the mark for you.

Ace tilts his head, looking at you. “Is that bad?”

“I mean, not for everyone, but for me it hurts.” You admit with a whimper. “Sorry Yams.”

“Wait, does it hurt when I -?” Ace starts and you shake your head, face heating up.

“No you…” You put your hands over your face, out of the three of you that made up this little love nest, you were the only one with an excess of embarrassment. “You fit perfect.” You mumble.

Ace ruffles your hair and you can imagine the big grin on his face. “Well, I could take it.” He says assuringly. “A little prep and enough lube and I bet it’ll feel amazing.”

“Do we want to get started now?” Yamato questions, his face brightening up. “It vibrates.” He adds, a mischievous and delighted smile as he turns it on and off to prove his point.

You almost wanted to wear it to peg either one of them, but you stay quiet as Ace is all for trying it now.

“I suppose I’ll sit back and enjoy the show then.” You say as brightly as you can manage.

“Huh?” Both ask at the same time, confusion on their face.

“You can sit back and watch if you want,” Ace starts.

“But you don’t have to.” Yamato finishes.

Now it’s your turn to tilt your head. “But how?”

The two of them smile. The smiles aren’t devious, but the energy coming from both of them is.

“There’s a couple different ways that are easy enough.” Ace promises you. “How about I lay down and you can get on top of me?”

“Well, but then-.”

“If you hook my legs with your arms you’ll have leverage,” Ace interrupts.

“And I’ll have access!” Yamato declares triumphantly.

“Access to?” It’s not making sense in your head and they both point to Ace.

Ace laughs when you look more confused, and helps you pull your shirt off as the three of you begin to strip. Which is more, the two of them stripping you down while stripping one another. Normally you would help, but you’re confused, and a moment ago you were certain you were going to be sitting this one out, so it feels a little whiplashy.

“This is going to make more sense if we just do it.” He says, tossing your shirt away. Tilting your face up toward his with his finger he leans down and kisses you.

Once you return his kiss his hands start to wander, pulling the straps of your bra down as you feel Yamato behind you, undoing the clasps. The two of them always took care of you, ever since a drunken party one college night had led Yams to declaring he could take both of you. Your relationship with Ace turned into a poly relationship pretty fast after that.

Yams and Ace were all the sunshine and energy of the group, and you were usually the more reserved and level-headed one. For all their shenanigans though, you worked well together. Outside of the bedroom you were often the one in charge, organizing who did what chores and keeping the house stocked and the meals planned.

In the bedroom, however, they took care of you.

Ace’s hot fingers were cupping and teasing your breasts as his kisses moved away from your mouth to your neck. You held onto him, stepping out of your jeans as Yamato helped you out of them. With the last of your clothes gone, save your socks, Yamato spread your legs a little and started teasing your clit with his fingers.

Your fingers flexed against Ace’s skin, and you sucked in a breath of surprise before moaning. You could feel the two of them exchanging kisses as they continued to play with you. Yams’ thumb pressed along your slit, causing you to spread your legs a little further, holding onto Ace’s shoulders as Yamato’s thumb pushes inside of you.

Your hips roll and you’re almost riding his hand.

“Puh-please, please, you two… I,” you gasp as Ace twists your nipples a little. Not enough to hurt, but enough to run a strong sensation through your chest. He leans back, and so do you, resting against Yamato a little as the latter holds onto you and teases you while Ace watches for a moment.

You don’t bother continuing to beg, feeling the blood rush through you as Ace’s eyes move over your body. He strips himself down, not taking his attention away from you and Yamato as your white-haired lover begins to lick and tease your skin while he continues to play with your pussy.

“Look at him being all cocky like that.” Yamato hums into your ear. “Giving you that grin like I’m not going to twist his sweet face in a few minutes.”

Ace’s devious smile breaks into a larger full grin. “That strap ain’t that big.” He asserts, going over and sitting on the edge of the bed, motioning for the two of you to join him.

Yamato releases you, giving you a playful smack on your ass to get you moving while he takes his own time to strip and get things ready. Ace lifts you up into his lap, hugging your chest to his and kissing along your collarbone as his hands steady you.

“Sure you’re up for this?” He questions, looking up at you from the mess of dark hair.

“I’m not the one getting sandwiched.” You say, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Besides,” you start, looking away even though you’re sure Ace can see the embarrassment on your face. “You two have me all worked up now.”

“Ah, so it’s our fault.” Ace hums, grabbing you and flopping backward before you can reply. You squeak a bit, shifting a little as he helps you sit up more.

Ace steadies you by your breasts, teasing you even as he supports you, and Yamato helps hook Ace’s legs against your arms. Holding Ace’s legs with your arms meant you couldn’t smack away his hands from your breasts, but the leverage let you tease his hardening cock with your wet slit.

Ace’s legs twitch against your arms and you see the heat rise in his face, his fingers trembling a little as he continues to try and tease you. Yamato rests his head on your shoulder, kissing you softly as you both watch Ace.

“He’s cute when he’s trying not to moan, isn’t he?” Yamato prompts. You nod, grinding into Ace’s cock a little more roughly as Yamato pushes two fingers into the freckled man’s ass.

Ace pulls his hands off your chest, grunting a little bit before he finally lets a soft moan fall from his lips.

“What a good boy,” Yamato purrs, and you grin down at Ace. He huffs a little, lifting your hips and lining himself up with you before lowering you down onto his cock.

“Don’t you get sassy with him,” he asserts, pushing you down onto him. You don’t stifle the satisfied sigh as he fills you up. Thick and curved a little, Ace didn’t hit too deep, but he did seem to fit you exactly as you needed, teasing the most sensitive places in your pussy with that curve. He kept talking about getting a piercing or two, and while you’d never ask him to do so, you hoped he would on his own one day.

Your eyes roll up into your head a little as his thumb teases your clit while you shift your hips.

“See, you should be more honest, like her.” Yamato teases, kissing your back before he kneels between Ace’s legs. “Relax, hot stuff.”

“I’m re-laaaaaxed!” Ace’s voice goes up a little and nearly breaks. You did your best to consciously squeeze against him as he started to speak, and it paid off. His ears are bright red and he’s looking at you in disbelief for a moment before he grins. “Someone’s trying to be a brat tonight.”

He turns his head to the side. “Hey Yams, can you grab that other thing you bought?”

“The wand? Sure.”

“The what?” You question, a little concern creeping into your voice.

“Don’t worry, just hold my legs.” Ace replies before Yamato can answer you.

A moment later Yamato is plugging something into the wall and handing it off to Ace. It’s a long rod with a bulbous end.

“Is that a -.”

“Vibrator? Yup.” Ace answers, smacking his lips at the end of the last word.

“It plugs into the wall?!” You’re feeling nervous suddenly. The three of you have used quite a few toys and accessories as time had gone on, but this was new.

Ace clicks it on, and it vibrates almost violently. The devious look on his face is practically making you shiver more than the possibilities of that vibrator. Your arms are still holding his legs, and your legs are straddling him. Wherever he decides to go with that thing, you can’t stop him.

Curiosity is also driving you forward.

“Haa, I felt you twitch that time,” he points out, pressing the bulb end against your clit while it’s off. The squishy material doesn’t give too much, and you can’t help rocking your hips against it. “Hey Yams, before you work that behemoth into me, hold onto (Y/N) for a minute.”

“Let me get this in first.” Yamato replies, pushing the head of the strap on into Ace’s lubed ass. Ace lets out a soft sigh, doing his best to relax and help Yamato work the toy in.

“Fuck.” Ace huffs.

“Too much?”

“N-nah,” he husks. “She’s twitchin’ against my cock, and the strap’s stretchin’ me, it’s just a lot.”

“St-stop teasing me with that th-thing,” you stammer. The warmth of Yamato behind you was more of a turn on because you knew he was slowly burying himself into Ace. Something about the whole situation was unbearably hot.

“Almost there,” Yams says, licking along your shoulder and making your whole body tremble.

You and Ace moan at the same time, and you can easily picture the pleased smile on Yamato’s face. He loved twisting you both around his finger and being the main lead/dom whenever you three got into things. Ace might top him from time to time, but he was wily as he was tall, and since he was the tallest of the three of you he was almost always in charge.

“There.” Yamato says, letting out a heavy breath before locking his arms around yours and your body, pressing your back against his chest. Not only were you held back by Ace’s legs, but now you were fully pinned in place.

Anticipation already has you in knots as Ace pushes the toy against your clit again. He rubs a little, until you finally look at him. When your eyes meet those storm steel ones of his he clicks the wand straight into high gear.

Your body clenches, tightening against Ace’s cock inside you, and shivering in Yamato’s hold. You suck in a breath in surprise, and it takes you a second to let it out. Nervous, broken moans fall from your lips as your body continues to squirm. If you weren’t held in place so well, you’re fairly certain you would’ve twitched right off of Ace’s waist.

“Damn, I can feel it.” Ace huffs, toes curling a little.

“Oh.” Yamato shifts behind you, holding you steady as he reaches down and clicks something. Ace’s body tenses and he pushes the wand into you a little harder for a moment. “Now you can really feel it.” Yamato assures him, having turned the vibrating function on for the strap buried in Ace.

“Haa, shit, I’m not going to last long like this.” Ace pants, rolling the toy around and teasing you with it. He’s flush from his face down to his elbows, his freckles disappearing into the blush that’s rising to the surface.

Yamato starts to help you move a little, giving you enough room to ride Ace’s cock while he keeps the wand on your clit.

“Yams, you ba-bastard.” Ace growls.

“It’ll be easier to rail you if you cum once.” Yamato points out happily, before turning and whispering into your ear. “Don’t hold back now, cum hard and watch his pretty face twist when he fills you up. Focus now.”

“Cum, I’m gonna cum,” you huff. Your whole body feels hot. You almost wish you were stuffed by both of them, with the vibrator on top of it. You’d probably lose your mind, but it would be worth it. As it was, the only thing really keeping you steady, was what Yamato had said.

Yamato nuzzles into the crook of your neck, licking and nibbling your tender flesh as his hands shift and tease your tits. You see Ace’s face twitch, his brows knitting as his mouth goes slack. His breath is coming out heavy and quick, and you know he’s as close as you are – probably losing his mind watching Yamato play with you.

“-Much! Too much!” You cry, your words at odds with your actions as you ride Ace without Yamato’s help. Even as the orgasm slams into you, you keep trying to move. Ace’s free hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin. You aren’t sure if he’s trying to stop you, or urge you on, and you’re rewarded with quite the view as he nearly sobs.

You can’t blame him, the intensity of your own climax still had you shivering and trembling, especially with the wand still going. You’re pretty sure your orgasm had slammed him into his faster than he expected. It was like having the floor yanked out from under you unexpectedly – and the surprise and rush looked beautiful on his face.

You feel him cum inside you, shifting the wand to a lower setting as the two of you work your way through the last few pleasurable twitches. He shuts the wand off, setting it off to the side, as he fights to catch his breath.

“Fuck me.” He huffs.

“Okay!” Yamato responds, holding onto your shoulders, as you’re holding onto Ace’s legs, and you hear Ace make a weird noise as you feel Yamato start to thrust into him.

“Yuh-Yaaam-ma-ma-ma-moto!” Ace stammers, his legs squirming in your grip. You hold on tight. Despite your own exhaustion from cumming so hard, you feel revived watching Ace squirm underneath you.

Ace grabs the sheets, his hips bucking against Yamato’s thrust, shoving himself deep into you. You can feel him twist and shift inside you, even before he bucked. You’re trying not to move too much so that he can recover a little on his own, but his legs twitch and it shifts you around, and when you shift he sucks in a breath, letting out a nervous shivering laugh.

“See? I told you it would be worth it.” Yamato huffs, picking up his pace.

You lean back against him, starting to shift your hips and ride Ace again. “You weren’t wrong.” You agree and you hear Ace whimper.

“You’re both, haa, haa-awful.” Ace gasps, moaning as you and Yamato start to synchronize a little. “Shiiiiiiit.” He hisses.

You grin, leaning over and leaving kisses against his calf. “I didn’t realize how adorable you were, hot stuff.” You tease, using Yamato’s nickname for him.

Ace pouts, his face and ears red, giving you a sour look for a second before he’s gripping the bed sheet again. “I’m gonna get you ba-back.” He growls the words, but there’s a delicious whine that escapes him as Yamato shifts.

“Ah, there it is.” He says, pushing Ace’s legs forward a little, tilting you forward slightly in the process. “Now to make you both cum again.” Yamato promises and you feel a chill down your spine at the tone in his voice.

Normally Yamato was happy and cheerful, much like Ace. But while Ace could shift from laughter to husky and demanding, Yamato usually stayed very lighthearted all through the night. It was rare that his demeanor shifted away from mischievous at the most.

Yamato began thrusting into Ace’s ass with enough force to bounce you on Ace’s cock. Being tilted forward a little and held in place mostly by your own hold on Ace’s legs, you didn’t have the position to keep yourself still. Every slap of Yamato’s hips into Ace’s thighs pushed you forward, and you’d shift back down again.

The angle also made your clit rub into Ace’s lower abs, and so the pleasure was a jolt on two fronts.

“Yam-Yams!” You gasp, holding onto Ace’s legs a little tighter doesn’t help. His moving is what’s making you move in the first place.

“Yes?” Yamato hums. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, no, but it’s too – too much we won’t be able to- hnnngh, heck.” You tense, groaning before you stammer the little half swear. “You’re gonna wear us ow – out.”

“Probably.” Yamato replies, speeding up a little. “But I wanted to wreck Ace with this new strap, so I’m getting what I want.”

“M-Me?!” Ace exclaims. “You, haaa-nnngh-fuck – you said it was for, for,” Ace throws his head back and his back arches. You can feel his body tense as Yamato continues.

“Yup, and you took it as a challenge.” Yamato says in that tone that sends another shiver through you.

His voice sent a shiver through Ace too because you heard him grunt before his entire body tenses. A trembling swear escapes him before his face breaks again and he’s panting. You can feel him twitch inside you, and the hot rush of cum is enough to push you over the edge. You hadn’t even realized how close you were until Ace’s orgasm pushed into you.

You’re both crying out Yamato’s name as he slams deep into Ace a couple times, before slowly pulling out.

“That’s my good lil’ pups.” Yamato purrs, kissing your shoulders before helping to untangle you from Ace’s legs.

“By the seas, you thrusted at the end like you could feel it through the strap!” Ace huffs, laying sprawled out on the bed as he fights to catch his breath.

Yamato laughs. “Sometimes it feels like I can,” he admits. “I could feel this one more cause the vibrations hit me too.”

“I really like your toy box,” you sigh contentedly, as Yamato helps you lay down beside Ace.

“It’s getting full, I’m going to have to buy a bigger box.” Yamato says and you and Ace laugh at the accidental reference.

After getting the strap cleaned off, Yamato comes back and snuggles with the two of you, chatting idly about the session until you all have the energy to go get cleaned up properly.

[niki-phoria]

now that you requests are open for aib, could you please write about thinking on betraying reader, but then reader saved him in a game and he starts developing feelings towards reader? 🥹

pairing: chishiya x male!reader genre: hurt comfort ?? word count: 1.6k

a/n: thank you for requesting !! you didn't specify who you wanted it for so i chose chishiya because i love him. tbh i kinda struggled with this so this is just reader saving chishiya during the king of spades shootout and then a confession, i hope that's okay. i hope you like it !!

warnings: blood, gun violence, mentions of getting stitches, chishiya gets shot, he's kinda ooc, s2 spoilers, not really canon compliant, this isn't really what the request was i'm so sorry i really struggled with writing this for some reason but i've been working on a longer fic that should be coming out soon

the sky is blurry as chishiya stares up at it, slowly blinking. adrenaline is still coursing through his veins preventing any pain from the gunshot wound in his side. blood pools on the ground around him, sticking to his body and staining his clothing. he lets his eyes flutter shut for a few seconds, letting the darkness surround him before something presses down on his body- hard. he gasped, staring up in shock. you hovered over him, holding your hand on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“chishiya?” he groans, letting his head fall back against the ground. “we need to get somewhere safe, i need you to stand up.” chishiya winces as you pull him to sit up, wrapping your arm around his waist. he isn’t sure if the flush on his face is from being shot, his multiple near-death experiences, or the feeling of your hands on his skin. 

you shift so he’s leaning on you, helping him limp away from the car he was hiding behind. everything is a blur as you rush into a building, laying him down on the concrete. you pull your jacket off, bunching it up and moving his hands so he holds it against his chest. “i need to find medical supplies,” you say, frantically looking around. he can barely recognize it as a convenience store. he’s surrounded by shelves of boxed food. 

the sound of you searching around echoes through the empty building. he focuses on the sound of your labored breathing to keep himself conscious. at least somewhat alert. he can make out cabinets being opened. their contents are thrown out of them without care. 

then, you gasp. a metal tin scrapes against the plywood as you reach back to pull what he assumes is a first-aid kit out of it’s place. you rush back to his side, throwing the jacket out of the way and replacing it with gauze. your hands are shaking.  you’re covered in blood. his blood. he can see bruises and scars on your bare chest from previous games. 

“chishiya,” your voice cracks. “you can’t die, okay? i need you to be okay.” it’s an impossible ask, laying on cold concrete with a bullet in his side. he’s still bleeding, staining the ground, his jacket, your jacket, the gauze- everything. his vision is blurry, black spots threatening to take over. his hands feel cold. probably blood loss. 

but despite it all, he reaches up to grab your hand. your skin is warm against his. he squeezes your hand, nodding a little. 

“i won’t. i promise.” you lean down to rest against his chest, fresh tears mixing with the blood. his hand moves from yours to the nape of your neck, running his fingers through your hair. he hopes it’s comforting. or, at the very least, not making you feel any worse. 

“i don’t know what to do,” you sob. 

“you do,” he whispers. “stop the bleeding, see if there’s an exit wound, and then stitch it up.” 

you force yourself to wipe your tears, sitting up on your knees. your hands are still shaking as you nod, grabbing the first-aid kit again. “this is gonna hurt,” you whisper. chishiya nods, holding his breath and preparing himself for the stitches. “i’m sorry.” 

there’s only a few seconds of pain before everything falls into darkness. it’s almost peaceful. the quiet is a welcome change after the chaos of the beach and the fear from the games. 

slowly, feeling begins returning to his body. his body aches from where he was shot. he’s laying on something soft- softer than the concrete from before. it’s bright when he opens his eyes, sunlight streaming through the windows. he’s still in the convenience store. now sitting up, he can see the chaos from before he passed out. things are thrown all across the room. next to him is the first-aid kit with a little piece of paper shoved underneath. on the back he can see the map of the subway he took from the woman’s body during tag. he flips it over in his hands, reading your messy writing on the back. 

went out for supplies, be back soon 

- y/n

a breath of relief escapes him. chishiya uses the wall to push himself up, standing on his feet. there’s not much else in the store besides food, but he can see his jacket laying out in the sunlight. the blood has been washed out of it, leaving it a nice white. he’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt. underneath his clothing he can feel the swim trunks he had been wearing at the beach. 

“he must’ve found some clothes,” he murmurs, venturing further through the store. your jacket lays haphazardly on the ground. it’s still stained with blood and covered in dirt. behind one of the shelves is a makeshift kitchen. firewood leans against the wall next to a container of gas and a lighter. your lighter. he sighs, making his way back to the bed you had set up for him. it’s a few blankets and towels stacked on top of each other to keep his body away from the cold concrete. chishiya lays back down, letting sleep overtake him as he awaits your return. 

he’s awoken that night by the sound of a bag being set on the ground beside him. he shifts to sit up, startling you a little. “chishiya!” you gasp. “when did you wake up?” 

“a few hours ago,” he smiles. you gently wrap your arms around his neck, careful not to touch him too roughly. chishiya pulls you closer, breathing in your familiar scent. “how long was i out for?” 

“a couple days,” you say, pulling back to hold his face. “i was getting worried about you.” he hums, letting you brush his bangs behind his ears. you turn away, grabbing your bag and fishing through it for something before turning back to him. “here, i found some antibiotics earlier.” chishiya takes the pill bottles, reading the labels. “there’s a hospital not too far from here. i thought about moving you, but i didn’t wanna make it worse.” 

“thank you,” chishiya says. and he means it. you simply nod, giving him a small smile. 

you’ve always been easy to read. your emotions are portrayed across your face at every moment. he never has to question how you’re feeling. at first, he thought it was a weakness. letting everyone know how you feel means manipulating you should be easy. but you’re smarter than that. now, he sees it for what it is: you. your personality. you didn’t let the games change who you are the way he did. 

chishiya watches as you empty the rest of your bag, preparing to make dinner for the night. your eyebrow twitches in concentration as you lug the firewood over, lighting the flames. you huddle next to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. he doesn’t move away from you, letting your body heat warm him more than the fire ever could. 

you eat in a comfortable silence, shoulders occasionally knocking against one another. you set your bowl aside, shifting so your back leans against the wall behind you. “you know, i’ve always wanted to go camping,” you sigh. 

“hm?” he raises an eyebrow, moving so he’s closer to you. “you’ve never been?” 

“no. never had the time, i guess. and, i’m not the biggest fan of bugs,” you chuckle. “but i want to see the stars. you know, stargazing? fall asleep underneath the great beyond.” 

chishiya moves ever so slightly so that your hands brush against one another. “i’ve been stargazing before.” 

“yeah?” you lean away from the wall so you’re facing him, reaching out to grab his hand. “did you like it?” 

“it’s a little boring,” he says, hoping the fire is covering how flushed his cheeks are. you intertwine your fingers together, soft skin rubbing against his calloused palms and scarred knuckles. 

you hum, leaning against his shoulder again. “i think anything can be interesting with the right person.” 

chishiya doesn’t respond, instead gently pulling you a little closer, his silent way of urging you to lean against him more. thankfully, you don’t move away, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. 

“thank you,” he whispers. “for saving me.” 

“i have feelings for you too.” you look up at him with wide eyes. 

he can feel you looking up at him. “of course,” you whisper. you fall into silence for a few minutes before you speak again. “i think… i have feelings for you.” chishiya freezes for a few seconds, looking down at you. you’re focused on the fire burning in front of you, watching the flames. 

“really?” 

chishiya hums. “really.” 

“can i kiss you?” chishiya smiles, hand moving to cup your cheek. he runs his thumb along your jawline before leaning down to press a sweet kiss against your lips. he can feel you smile into it before he pulls away, pressing another peck against your forehead. 

“sleep,” he whispers. 

“but what about your side?” 

“i’ll be fine.” you hesitate but nod, leaning back against him and closing your eyes, getting some needed rest. chishiya watches you for a few minutes, waiting for the fire to go out before pressing another kiss against the crown of your head. he relishes in the feeling of your body against his before leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and falling asleep as well.

[peach-and-bugs]

Could you write an adult Shauna Shipman x f!reader one-shot with quote 6 "I feel like you've got a hand on me at all times" "Maybe that's because I'm irrationally afraid that you'll disappear on me if I let go"

Ir could be something like, one day f!reader gets into an accident and almost d*es and after that Shauna doesn't let f!reader out of her sight because she's afraid that she'll loose her like she lost Jackie all those years ago

Thank you if you'll do it <3

💙Slipping Like Satin - Shauna Sadecki x fem!Reader💙

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: During the scuffle to try and catch the blackmailer, y/n is injured and Shauna hasn't left her alone since.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, blood, general angst

Word Count: 1,663

A/N: Hello Loves! I'm trying out a new header for my next couple of fics! I might tweak it to get the style to be something I like more, but I'm excited about the new aesthetic. But this has been a request that I've been saving till I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, and while it's still not exactly what I wanted, I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Shauna Shipman/Sadecki Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💙-

“God damn it, Natalie, I knew this was a terrible idea!” You heard Shauna scream, her voice growing shrill as her throat squeezed with upset. It had hardly registered yet, but you began to feel a hot pain on the skin of your upper bicep. Your hand was squeezing the spot, and when you moved it away, you could see a glistening red sticky on your fingers in the orange light.

“Fuck. We’re completely fucked!” Natalie barked back, running her hands through her hair as she began to pace in a circle. Only then did you notice the gun in her hand. You bit your lip, swallowing thickly as you looked back down at your fingertips. That is till Shauna moved in front of you, taking your hand in hers.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re alright,” she murmured in a hushed voice. You began to nod but didn’t say a word. Getting shot didn’t actually hurt as much as you might have anticipated prior, you now realized. “Can I have a look?” Shauna asked though she was already moving your arm gently with her shaking hands. Anxiety knit her brow as she tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Tai, can you come look?” She asked, gently adjusting your sleeve to get a look at the wound. Taissa moved beside her, pulling out her phone to turn the flashlight on. They both examined the area with furrowed brows and frowning lips.

“It looks like it only grazed her,”

“Should we get her to a doctor?” Shauna’s voice was low and hushed like she was trying to keep the thought of a doctor out of your head. Or maybe it was Natalie’s. The brunette still seemed quite upset with the whole ordeal. Taissa took another look before she shook her head.

“No. If we clean and bandage it good she should be alright,” she brushed at the wound with her finger just too close and you took in a hissed breath through your teeth, your nose scrunching at the sting. You heard Shauna gasp, her eyes widening ever so slightly as her grip tightened. Taissa retracted her hand but you managed a smile with a small chuckle.

“Let’s just get this patched up, ok? I’ll be completely fine,” your eyes wavered to Shauna for the last bit. You might have been attempting to assure her more than yourself, but you weren’t too sure.

If you were being honest, you didn’t remember the whole affair all that well. Mostly there was confetti, or maybe it had been glitter? It was something colorful and it got in your eyes, that’s all that mattered. It was followed by more of a foot chase before you burst out into a parking lot in time to watch the blackmailer driving off. You thought that had been the end of it, till you heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by a clank of metal. Most of what you could remember was just recounting what the others had said, but you wouldn't admit that. You knew Shauna would freak about the whole thing more if she knew.

She had been showing up on your doorstep nearly every day after that night. She argued it was to check on your injury, though you could handle it yourself. She’d been insistently clingy recently. She doesn’t talk to you for just under a decade then all of the sudden she’s showing up at your door with food and various banned goods like clockwork. She might as well move into your apartment with how often she was dropping in, keeping tabs on your every move. It was likely from her sixteen years as a mom, and you appreciated a little help every now and then, but it was becoming a little much. You thought of all of this while on the toilet, anticipating Shauna might be waiting outside the door.

She didn’t turn up right outside the door as you thought, but walking back into your apartment's main room, you found her scurrying around your kitchen, as though she was attempting to appear as though she’d been busy in your absence. She’d pulled carrots out of the fridge and some other vegetables she was now prepping.

“What are you doing now?” you tried your best not to sound irritated, though it might have been hinted under your tongue. Shauna’ pressed her lips in a line and shrugged, seemingly trying to look casual as she shrugged.

“I thought I’d make a soup,”

“You don’t need to do that, I can make food,” She nodded but didn’t look up from her carrots. You stood still, simply watching her without a word, trying to configure what could be going on in that head of hers. Yes, you’d been in an accident. Technically you'd been shot, but not really. It was scary for everyone involved. But it wasn’t a big deal! You were clearly doing fine. You’d been cleared by your doctor, though they only thought it was grazing from a bad fall. Why was she suffocatingly all over you? Your brow creased and you frowned, looking away.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” You didn’t wait for her to look up before turning around and going back to your bedroom. You leaned your back and head against your shut door, now safe in the seclusion of your room. You didn’t mean to be, well, mean. But this sudden attention was unfortunately discomfiting. You felt fragile under your care. You hadn’t felt fragile in years. Probably not since ‘96. You shivered at the thought of what happened back then. Shaking the thought away, you rubbed your eyes with your fingers. Sleep. That’s what you needed right now. Sleep would make those thoughts go away.

-💙-

You woke up to a thumping sound somewhere in your apartment. The sound itself didn’t wake you, but it didn’t help any chances of falling asleep again. You sat up with a long yawn, dragging yourself out of bed only to notice it was now dark outside. You sniffed, leaving your room and padding out into your main living space. A warm aroma met your nose and you recalled Shauna’s soup. You were also reminded that Shauna was likely still here.

Sure enough, there she stood by your desk, your back turned to you. Her shoulders shook as you got a better look at her. Your brow furrowed and you bit your lip.

“Shauna?” Your voice was rough with sleep. Her name pulled her out of her head and she turned with a shameful look in her eye. She frantically wiped away tears that strew down her cheek. It wasn’t till you noticed what was in her hands and on the deck that you understood. She began to weakly apologize but you shook your head, silently approaching her. Her body was tense as you moved forward. She couldn’t realize it till you tenderly took the photos from her hands, fingers brushing over hers. She watched as you stroked the cheeks of the smiling girls, captured in a time capsule of Polaroid.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Shauna murmured, her eyes wandering back down to the unearthed box sitting on the desk. You shrugged, smiling sadly.

“It felt wrong not to,” you mused with a hollow sigh. “I don’t look at them often,” Shauna chuckled when a thought came to mind.

“You were so excited to get that camera,” you nodded, letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“My parents rarely gave us holiday gifts early. They told me I should ‘capture the highlight of my teen soccer career,’” Your smile wavered sadly as you flipped through the photos. “Who knew that camera would only capture the worst few months of our lives,”

“We didn’t have it for the worst part,” Shauna corrected. You felt yourself tear up and forced a sarcastic laugh.

“Thank god I ran out of film,” you took in a long, sad sniff of air. Shauna’s eyes softened, growing wide as she began to cry again. Her arms found their way around her shoulders she pulled you in. Given the unexpected contact, you dropped the photos in your hands, sending them fluttering to the ground below you. You gave into her, going limp in her arms with your hands hung wilm at your sides. She held onto you so tight as you cried together. In so many ways it felt like mourning. You still mourned those you lost, the things you'd done, and the girlhood that had been so swiftly taken away.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into her neck over and over as she told you to hush and save your words, but you couldn’t help it. You needed her to know “But I’ve been so mean to you this past week, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve felt like you’ve had a hand on me at all times and it scares me,” you cried, finally wrapping your arms around her back, hands squeezing desperately to the back of her cardigan. She let out a watery laugh and nodded her cheek against your forehead.

“Maybe that’s because I’m irrationally afraid that you’ll disappear on me if I let go,” She smiled as she said it, eyes shut tight. You knew just by the way her voice broke that it wasn’t a smile of joy, but one that held onto all the grief she forced herself to carry with her. You felt it too as you let out your own pitiful laugh of melancholy. You shook your head against her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, ok,” you pulled away from her just enough to see her face, holding her cheeks between your hands. “I’m right here,” there was an urgency in your voice as your lip quaked, tears still spilling. She took a long break, sniffling heavily as she shakily nodded. You smiled and nodded again, running your hand over her hair.

“I’m right here,”

[ladydekarios]

Long Way Home

Fic Summary: After Eddie’s battle with the demobats, his injuries are severe and the gang needs help. As Dustin’s ex-babysitter, and a studying nurse they bring him to you. Can you save him? And can Eddie find his way back home?

A/N: This idea came to me one night as I was falling asleep, I thought it was a good one. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of pain and medication, death of readers parents (pre-story).

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform. Support content creators by reblogging

--

“Eddie…. Come on man stay with me!” Dustin screams as Steve, Robin and Nancy approach. “Guys help me! We gotta get Eddie out of here!”

“We can’t take him to a hospital Henderson, he’s a wanted man!” Robin sighs.

“I know where to take him, just help me!!”

--

A loud pounding on your door awakes you from your dreamless sleep, turning over to your alarm clock you see it’s almost 2am. You groan before rolling out of bed, whoever is there better have a damn good reason to be knocking at this ungodly hour, you think to yourself as you approach the door.

You pull the door open and are greeted by Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, who are all carrying the lifeless form of Eddie Munson. “Oh my gosh! Come in! What happened?!” You say as you move aside to let them in. “My bedroom Dustin.” You say as you look around outside to make sure no one had followed them to your place.

You close the door and turn just in time to see them disappear into your bedroom, you join them just as they’re placing Eddie on your bed. “Okay I need to know what happened but first I need you each to get something for me so I can assess the damage in private.” They all nod in agreement. “Henderson, my linen closet, get as many towels as you can. Harrington, hot water, there’s a kettle on the stove. Wheeler, vodka, I keep a bottle in my icebox. Buckley, bathroom cabinet, get me everything except the girl stuff. There’s also a first aid box under the sink… Go!” They all scramble to leave the room, running in different directions. Now you can take a look at Eddie.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing, the wounds covering the left side of his lower torso, right side of his upper torso and left side of his neck look like bites. But they’re bites you’ve never seen before, they almost don’t look real. But they are.

You sit on the edge of the bed and tentatively reach out to touch the wound on his lower left torso, as your fingertips touch him you feel him tense even though he’s unconscious. The pain must be tremendous, but knowing he can still feel it fills you with hope. Being numb to the pain would not be a good sign. Dustin returns first, his arms full of every single towel you own.

“I got them all, what can I do now?” Dustin asks, his eyes full of worry and unshed tears.

“There’s nothing else you can do Dusty but let me work, there’s juice boxes and water in the refrigerator. Help yourself and take a seat in the living room, it’s going to be a long night.” You reply as the others return with their various items. Dustin hangs his head and leaves the room. “Keep an eye on him please.” You say to Steve, who nods and shows the girls out of the room. The door closes and you turn your attention back to Eddie. “I’m so sorry but this isn’t going to be pleasant Munson.”

--

Eddie looks around, he’s not sure where he is but he knows he’s in pain. The world around him is dark, the sky almost black and there’s dust floating all over the place. A flash lights up the sky and lights the area up, he’s still in the upside down, thunder rumbles making the ground shake. He calls out.

“Henderson?” There’s no response. “Harrington?” He’s met with only silence. He tries moving but there’s pain all over, he inhales sharply as the pain shoots through him. In the distance he hears a voice, a familiar one. Y/N? Isn’t she supposed to be in New York?

He listens intently, it’s definitely her, and she’s saying his name. He smiles gently as he remembers the past and their interactions. The smile and memories fade fast as a stinging pain shoots through pain his left side. He hears her say, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” and the pain subsides. Then hits again on his right side. “Ahhhh shit!” he says through gritted teeth, and the sting subsides. Then it hits again in his neck, tears form in his eyes as he groans through the pain. It hurts way more than he ever thought was possible, worse than the bad tattoo he got when he was fifteen. The one he got done by that guy who used to live the other end of Forest Hills trailer park, the one that got infected and he had a two day hospital stay, the one he got for her.

--

You wince as Eddie tenses in pain as you clean the wound on his neck, using the vodka Nancy got as you were out of hydrogen peroxide from your first aid bag after the first two wounds. You’d used the peroxide to clean the wound of any bacteria before placing a towel covered in more peroxide and hot water over the wounds.

Steve pokes his head into the room, “Everything okay?”

“He’s responding to pain which is a good sign but I won’t know how bad it is until he wakes up.” You say as you use another towel to wipe off your hands. “I need to bandage these wounds but I can’t roll him and apply the bandage, can you help me?” Steve nods and helps roll Eddie onto his side so you can apply the bandage, and then the other way to wrap the other side.

You finish bandaging Eddie up and then grab your medical bag and get out something that will help with pain relief, injecting it into Eddie’s arm then leaving the room.

“How is he?” Dustin asks jumping up out of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“He needs to rest, I’ll know more in the morning.” You say.

--

A warm feeling spreads through Eddie’s body, removing all the pain he feels. He sighs in relief as he stands up, grabbing his spear and trash can shield and begins to move. Heading back in the direction of his trailer, looking around at all the bodies of the fallen demobats. “Jesus H Christ!” He mumbles as he continues on, only able to move slowly, not wanting to overdo it too quickly and tire himself out.

Another flash lightning and crash of thunder rumble through the deserted apocalypse style Hawkins Eddie is walking through, making him jump. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again he can see her, standing in the distance. The love he let go all those years ago, he has to make it out for her.

--

“You helped Eddie even though he’s suspected for murder, why would you do that?” Robin asks, Steve shoots daggers at her and Nancy nudges Robin with her elbow. “What? You’re telling me you aren’t thinking the same thing?”

“I know Eddie, I know who he is and I know he would never do anything like that. We went to middle and high school together.” You say, Robin makes an O with her lips before you continue. “I always liked him, and he never treated me any different even though I was kind of a prodigy. I moved away just before I graduated, two years earlier than my peers.”

“Why did you move away?” Robin asks, as she takes a seat on your couch.

You take a deep breath. “My parents were killed in a fire, so I moved to New York to live with my aunt and uncle.” You say.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” Robin says and stands up, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around you. You return her embrace and then take a seat next to Dustin.

“I didn’t know you even knew Eddie y/n, I’ve spoken about him when I called you in New York but you never said anything.” Dustin says, raising one eyebrow at you.

“Hearing you talk about him was difficult enough Dusty and I couldn’t bring myself to ask about him either.” You say.

“Wait, were you guys a couple before you moved?” Nancy asks, looking dumbfounded. You and Eddie, even back then didn’t make much sense.

“No, not a couple. I would’ve maybe liked to be but I doubt he saw me that way. I mean I was a year younger than him and a smarty-pants, we would’ve made the town sweat wondering how he would corrupt me or how I could teach him stuff…”

“Ahem… so it was just a one-sided crush?” Steve says.

“I think so. I didn’t have many friends but Eddie always went out of his way to make me feel happy or even just noticed.” They all look at you, not believing it was one sided at all. “I’ll be right back.” You say and head into your bedroom to grab the photo album off the shelf.

Dustin looks to check that you’re out of earshot before he speaks. “I’m always asking Eddie why he doesn’t have a girlfriend and his answer was always, ‘She’ll leave like Peanut’. I think y/n is the Peanut he’s talking about.”

They all nod in agreement as you re-enter the room, but don’t speak. “I feel like I just walked in to something I shouldn’t have.” You say, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Nope it’s all good.” Dustin says with a grin. “What do you have there?”

“I was gonna tell about you the last encounter Eddie and I had.” They all gather around to listen. “It December 21st 1982, the day winter break started. My dad was picking me up from school and I was walking to his car when I heard Eddie call out to me. I turned around and he had a huge grin on his face, he wished me a Merry Christmas and handed me a large package, wrapped in newspaper. He said he didn’t have any Christmas wrap and he hoped I liked it and kissed my cheek before hopping on his bike and riding away.” They all look at each other and smile. “I opened it as soon as I got home, it was a framed picture he had drawn. An Elven warrior that looked like me, it was the best gift I’d ever gotten. The fire happened three days after Christmas…”

End of part one.

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