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megalony · 11 hours

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Meet My Family

This is an Evan Buckley imagine requested by anon, I hope you will all like it. Let me know what you think.

I'd love to do a follow up or two if anyone would be interested.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: Evan has been waiting for the right time to introduce the team to his family. But when his son is ill and he has to leave shift early, he tells the team about his family. (Autistic! son)

Enjoy.

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A shudder tore down Evan's spine and tingled throughout his arms when his son screamed.

It didn't matter how many times Evan had heard Rowan scream or make similar screeching, high-pitch noises, each one always cut through him.

With his lips rolled together, Evan tried again to reach for the shirt on the bed that he needed so he could get dressed ready for work. But Rowan moved faster. Despite the crackling coughs passing the five year old's lips, he took a dive and grabbed the shirt next to him on the bed, pinning it to his chest.

Evan took a deep breath before he crouched down on his knees at the foot of the bed so he was level with his boy. He watched Rowan tilt his head to the side, snuffling and huffing into the shirt he was cuddling like it was one of his many toys.

"Please." He kept his tone gentle and held his hand out, but Rowan wasn't agreeable today. Evan rose a brow and moved to tap the logo on the shirt that had the fire station name and number sewn into the crest. "Daddy's going to work. I gotta get dressed." He tapped the crest again before pointing to himself, but all he got was a sad scream that twisted into a cry at the end.

He knew Rowan knew what he was saying, or at least what he was trying to convey to him.

Evan was an expert on Rowan's different noises by now, he had to be. Noises were a way Rowan communicated because he couldn't speak, so Evan and (Y/n) had learned to decipher which ones were happy, which ones meant he was in pain and what sounds were angry or frightened.

Right now he was both in pain and angry. He didn't want Evan to go to work. Rowan didn't know what to do when he wasn't well, he knew he wasn't going to school because Evan hadn't gotten him into his school uniform and that meant his routine was disrupted.

A barking cough left Rowan's lips which made his chest sound like it was made of tissue paper that was ripping and crinkling apart. He pinned Evan's shirt to his chest and Evan sighed before he reached out.

He lifted Rowan up off the bed and let him snuggle against his chest. Since the moment he was born, Rowan had been a cuddler. Nothing couldn't be solved by a cuddle and it was something Evan loved about him.

Evan knew a few of the other parents from Rowan's school and he knew half of the kids there didn't like physical contact as much as Rowan. Some of the kids couldn't handle cuddles or long hugs or interacting with their families. If Rowan had been like that, it would physically kill Evan. He was so, so relieved that every day he got to pick his son up and lather him with kisses and hold him and show him he was loved.

And cuddles were a way for Rowan to express himself. He couldn't speak, (Y/n) and Evan were never going to hear their son tell them he loved them, but at least he could show it through touch and contact.

Rowan's birth had been a horrid experience and it caused some brain damage. He was autistic and non-verbal, granted Rowan could make noises, he made lots of sounds. He loved to click his tongue and make a noise that always reminded Evan of the Crazy Frog. And Rowan could scream, he would belt out a scream if he was angry or make a squeal if he was happy, but he couldn't say any words.

That meant it was sometimes hard to figure out if Rowan was in pain or the reasons why he was upset. They only knew Rowan was ill yesterday because he had a temperature and he was coughing and screaming. They were starting to use picture cards with him, but it was a slow process. They wanted to teach him to point to a picture to show them if he was in pain, such as if he had a tummy ache he could point and show them. At the moment, they used pictures for him to point out where he wanted to go.

And they had a picture board depicting what they did each day to try and help him have some control and sense of understanding.

"Alright buddy, alright."

He felt Rowan snuggle down against him until his head was tucked beneath Evan's chin and his arms loosely draped around Evan's neck, leaving the shirt hanging over his back, tightly gripped in his son's hand.

Tipping his head down, Evan kissed the top of Rowan's matching curls and smoothed a hand up and down his back as his other arm wrapped across his legs to keep him perched on his chest. He kept him snuggled close and kept kissing his head while he turned to leave the bedroom. There was no point arguing like this, Evan was just going to have to go about his morning routine and show Rowan that he would be leaving for work soon.

Rowan had been glued to both parents all night because he had a horrid chesty cough and Evan was sure he was going to start throwing up soon. He couldn't sleep and therefore Evan hadn't managed to sleep much either, most of the night was spent laid up in bed with Rowan on his chest.

Evan slowly made his way downstairs and padded through into the kitchen where he knew (Y/n) was because he could hear the radio humming softly through the air. He bounced Rowan a bit higher on his chest and continued to kiss the top of his head as he wandered past the kitchen table towards (Y/n).

His eyes instantly landed on (Y/n) and a soft smile flooded his face as he approached her. She was wearing a pair of leggings, mostly covered by one of Evan's long button up shirts which hung off (Y/n)'s frame since it was about two sizes too big, but she still made it look good. Her hair was pinned back and despite the tired look in her eyes, just looking at her made Evan smile.

"Morning sweetheart," Evan walked over to (Y/n) and stood behind her, curving his right arm around her waist while his left arm kept Rowan in place against his chest.

His fingers feathered up and down her waist and he took the time to kiss the top of her head while (Y/n) leaned her head back on his shoulder so she could smile up at him.

He pecked her temple again and reached his arm up from her waist to rattle through the medicine cupboard above her. All medicines had to be in high cupboards so Rowan couldn't get hold of them, he had a tendency to grab anything and stick it in his mouth. All the cleaning products were in the top cupboard above the counter because Rowan had tried to eat the wash liquid. It was either put them high up or get locks for the cupboards.

Evan grabbed the Calpol and the thermometer, grinning when he felt (Y/n) twist her head to the side so she could press her lips against his neck and graze her teeth over his skin. Not enough to mark him up for work, but just enough to make a red scratch worm onto his skin.

"Morning… you get hot or something?" (Y/n) did a quick sweep up and down his frame, wondering why he was wearing everything but his shirt. He didn't usually walk about in trousers but no shirt, it was more usual to see Evan either fully dressed or simply in his pants, there wasn't an inbetween.

"Someone's got my shirt." His eyes drifted down to the person in his arm who had gone quiet all of a sudden. He couldn't even feel Rowan humming or making his usual clicking sound which meant he was either tired or feeling unwell, possibly both.

Ducking his head down, Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s until she got the hint and lifted her head up to meet him halfway. His nose nudged her cheek and his lips smothered hers, stealing a kiss that took all the air from (Y/n)'s lungs.

She groaned against his lips which gave Evan the chance to slide his tongue past her lips to tango with hers. He could feel her hand gliding across his chest, her nails leaving just the slightest scratch into his skin to wind him up and she gasped into his mouth when his hand holding the medicine bottle swatted down against her bum.

At least Rowan never seemed to mind whenever Evan wanted to steal a kiss from (Y/n) or when he curled around her and laid with her. They could hug and kiss and be intimate without Rowan making a fuss or getting protective or whining like most other kids would do.

"He's flushed." (Y/n) whispered against Evan's lips when she felt Rowan pressing up between them.

She pulled back from Evan's tempting lips so she could kiss Rowan's forehead which was hot and slightly sweaty. He was probably going to run a fever soon if he wasn't already.

"Alright buddy, let's take a look at you," Evan turned around to face the kitchen island and gently sat Rowan down on the counter.

He noticed Rowan's breathing was slightly crackly but he wasn't snuffling like he had a cold. The five year old's gaze seemed to be focused on the tattoo on Evan's left shoulder, he didn't understand them or what they were, but he seemed to love staring at them.

He cuddled Evan's shirt to his chest and stayed unusually still while Evan kissed his temple and tried to listen to his breathing.

He hadn't been well yesterday either, but he still went to school because he wasn't lethargic and he was active enough to go. But during the afternoon and into the evening his coughing got worse and he was clearly sick today.

"Okay, ready? Be brave, just like daddy."

Evan turned on the thermometer and pressed it into his own ear so Rowan could see it wasn't something that would hurt him. The five year old was a menace at the doctors. He wouldn't let them look in his ears, his mouth, if they touched him he screamed and vaccinations were the worst. He wouldn't let any of the teachers give vaccinations at school so Evan always made sure he had the day off and they got his vaccinations at the doctors.

One of them, usually Evan, had to pin Rowan to their chest while the other talked to him and held his hand so the doctor could inject him.

Once it was done, Evan held the thermometer out to Rowan. The young boy shook his head and made a discontent noise and when Evan pushed it in his ear, he screamed and tried to hit Evan's arm. It gave Evan the chance to snatch his shirt from his son and toss it somewhere behind him to be put on later.

"Done, all done." Evan placed it out the way so it couldn't be weaponised since Rowan was now upset. "Thirty-nine point four, he's got a fever."

"Great." (Y/n) murmured defeatedly and when she passed him, she leaned over to kiss Evan's shoulder. At least Rowan was up and active and making noises. If he was lethargic they would have cause for concern, and his fever wasn't too high or in the danger zone yet which was a relief. He would be okay for now, (Y/n) would keep an eye on him.

Evan held the Calpol out on a spoon which Rowan happily accepted. The good thing about him was that he didn't complain about medicine. He took anything given to him whether it was a liquid or a tablet or a cough sweet, but it usually had to be liquid. Rowan didn't understand that some tablets couldn't be chewed, he would chew any he was given.

Reaching out for him, Evan gently lifted him up and set him down to his feet so he could trot over to (Y/n). He swiftly pulled open the bottom drawer where he knew all his cups and beakers were kept and held a beaker out to (Y/n), his way of asking for a drink.

"Rowan, buddy, look." Evan tugged his shirt over his head and tucked it into his pants before he reached out for his son's hand.

He gently tugged until Rowan finally looked at where he was pointing. The whiteboard stuck on the fridge.

It was their now and next board. They printed pictures such as food, drinks, places like the park and cinema or school, and stuck them on the board so Rowan knew what was happening or so he could pick what he wanted to do.

Evan took the picture of himself and moved it to the bottom of the board, leaving Rowan and (Y/n)'s pictures up on the top. That told Rowan Evan was leaving.

"Daddy going to work, you can watch movies with mummy." He put the picture of the tv up on the board but he winced when Rowan stomped his foot. At first, they weren't sure Rowan actually understood any of the pictures or what they were trying to show him, but his reactions told them different.

And just last week, Rowan had noticed that Evan wasn't in the house when he woke up, and he trotted into the kitchen and took Evan's picture off the board all by himself. He stuck it at the bottom of the whiteboard where there was a building to signify Evan going to work. (Y/n) cried when she watched him.

It proved they had a way of communicating and that Rowan was understanding them and what was going on around him.

A rumbling, whining sound left Rowan's lips before he grabbed Evan's picture and moved it up next to the tv. Evan sighed, biting his lip as he shook his head and pointed to his shirt before he slowly moved his picture again.

"No, daddy's going to work."

Evan pressed his hand over the picture so Rowan couldn't try and move it again and it caused Rowan to scream. He tried to pull on Evan's hand, but when he realised his dad wasn't going to budge or listen, he stomped his feet and began to cry.

His cries ended in broken coughs as he flopped down to sit on the floor, his version of a tantrum. He continued to cry but his hands batted out in front of him and Evan wasn't sure what he wanted until Rowan finally grabbed his hand. He held his dad's hand, still crying, and just kept squeezing for a while. Evan didn't know if Rowan was asking for comfort or if he was just trying to convey how upset and sick he felt, but Evan stayed still and let him get it out of his system.

"Baby, here's your drink, look." (Y/n) leaned over him, kissing his forehead as she held his beaker in front of him.

She waited for him to take it but Evan reacted quicker, he could see what the five year old was about to do. When Rowan went to smack the drink away, Evan took it first.

"Fine, daddy will drink it then."

Rowan was stumped. He stopped crying, tears still running down his face and his chest heaving, but he stopped making any noise. He watched Evan take the beaker and take a sip and that was enough to snap Rowan out of his tantrum.

He pushed up and took the beaker from Evan as if his dad should know that he was not allowed to do that. And he flopped forward into Evan's chest, seeking a hug while he calmed down enough to have a drink.

"If you need anything today just call me, okay?" Evan looked across at (Y/n) and his expression softened when she held out a cup of coffee towards him. She knew he would need one now to wake him up for the drive to the station and then he would have another one as soon as he got to work.

"We might need another tub of strawberries." (Y/n) leant her hip against the counter, her eyes practically melting as she looked over at her boys.

Rowan had a thing for fruit. (Y/n)'s lockscreen on her phone was of Rowan and Evan at the local farm picking strawberries. All the ones Rowan picked went straight in his mouth, and the same could be said for Evan. For every strawberry Evan put in his punnet, he also put one in his mouth.

It was a routine for Rowan to have them at breakfast and they were almost out.

(Y/n) watched Evan nod with a smile and her eyes followed him as he scooped Rowan up from the floor and walked over to her until he was close enough for her arms to bind around. Keeping her and their boy pinned against his chest until it was time for him to go. He didn't like leaving them, especially when one of them wasn't well.

***

"What're we eating, I'm starving." Evan clapped his hands together and leaned over the counter to grab the plates from the cupboard. He was sure in any moment his stomach was going to growl as if to prove his point.

"You're always hungry."He huffed and took a glance over his shoulder at Hen as she passed him to sit at the table.

He couldn't really disagree with that. Evan was always hungry, but he was always on the go. When everyone else at the station could relax and sit down between calls, Evan was restocking the trucks and mopping the floors and tidying up. He couldn't sit still. He worked out a lot in the gym every single day. He was always on the move; he had every right to be hungry every minute of the day when each minute was accounted for.

He set the plates around the table and took his usual seat next to Bobby once the Captain set down a bowl of carbonara in the middle of the table.

Evan couldn't help but zone out of the conversation as he began to eat. His mind was wandering again.

He couldn't help but think back to this morning and how Rowan had thrown another tantrum when Evan tried to walk out the door. He screamed until he started coughing and then he threw up his breakfast. Moments like that made Evan hate having a job. He never wanted to leave (Y/n) or Rowan and when he did long shifts, it upset Rowan.

It was starting to bug Evan to the point he was contemplating asking Bobby if he could go on twelve hour shifts. He didn't mind doing the usual mix of days and nights, but pulling long double shifts wasn't good for Rowan.

"I think that girl on the last call had the hots for you, Buck." Hen wiggled her brows and pointed her fork at him while he felt Eddie nudge him in the side.

"She was a cook, you'd get along great in the kitchen." Eddie piped in and pointed at the food.

A soft smirk filtered across Evan's lips and he flashed his teeth before he shook his head and took a bite of his food. He didn't need to find anyone, he already had a girl waiting back home for him. And he wouldn't get along great in the kitchen with that woman on their call this morning, she seemed bossy and if Evan was bossed around in the kitchen, he got snappy.

"Ah, I don't need a sous chef, thanks."

The team didn't know about Evan's family.

As he took another bite of his lunch, Evan couldn't help but move his free hand towards the chain dangling around his neck. His fingers traced the silver links and wandered beneath his cotton shirt to the wedding ring that was a small but comfortably weight against his chest, right near his heart.

He didn't like wearing the ring on his finger, not in this line of work. Evan couldn't risk losing his ring and he didn't want the constant battle of scrubbing his hands and cleaning his ring whenever he got his hands dirty in this job. Plus, Evan was an accident prone in this job. He knew if he went unconscious at the hospital and he needed a scan or an X-ray, they would cut his ring if they couldn't slide it off his finger. He wasn't taking that risk. Having it hung on a chain was safer and made him feel better and protected.

Evan had been meaning to tell the team about his family, but he hadn't found the right time. He wanted to introduce everyone soon, properly. He had waited to make sure this job stuck, that this team was truly like a family before he opened up the most precious thing he had to them.

It was Rowan Evan was thinking of. It took him a while to get used to new people and Evan didn't want to get Rowan used to them just for this job to go sideways or in case something happened within the team. And Evan had to make sure that everyone would be understanding.

He'd had his fair share of fights with people who had made rude comments about his son or people who dismissed him. Evan had to make sure none of the team were like that before he opened up.

Just as they were all finished and Evan collected the empty plates, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He shuffled the plates into one hand, slowing down so he didn't drop them while he fished his phone out his pocket.

'Babe <3'

The air disappeared from Evan's lungs and he hurriedly dumped the plates in the sink before he spun on his heels. He weaved past Chimney and Hen, throwing them a cautious smile so they didn't try and ask what he was doing or why he was staring at his phone like that with his jaw slack.

"Hey baby, everything okay?" It didn't matter how many times Evan told (Y/n) she could and should ring him at work if something was wrong, she barely did.

She would text him, send him pictures and let him know if Rowan was okay or if something was wrong, but she didn't usually ring him. "Hey, I- I didn't wanna ring you but… babe I might need some help."

That alone was enough to put Evan on edge. He could hear the panic in his wife's voice and it sent his heart lurching up into his throat. He took a few steps away from the kitchen until he was leaning over the railing. His back and bum arched out behind him and his elbows dug down into the metal railing as he tried to control his breathing.

"Why, what's happened?"

"His temperature spiked, and he was coughing so much he wasn't breathing properly. The doctor said to come down to the hospital s-so we're at the emergency room. Evan he won't calm down, he knows where we are, I don't think he's gonna let the doctor anywhere near him. C-can you come down?"

She hated to ask, but (Y/n) needed help and that thought alone sent Evan reeling.

He should have stayed home. He shouldn't have come into work, he should have stayed when he saw that Rowan had a fever this morning.

He knew Rowan hated the doctors and the few times he had been into the emergency room hadn't been pretty. Rowan didn't cooperate, he got frightened and nervous and if strangers tried to touch him he would scream and have a meltdown. Added to the fact that he didn't feel well was a recipe for disaster.

"I'll talk to Bobby and come straight down, okay? Try to keep him calm and wait outside for me if you have to, I won't be long baby I promise."

"Thank you."

Evan raked his fingers through his hair and spun on his heels, scouting round to look for Bobby. He saw Bobby sat at the table, nursing a steaming cup of tea, sat chatting to Chimney about something that was clearly amusing since they were both laughing.

He began tapping his phone against his thigh as he headed over and stood at Bobby's side, gingerly tapping his shoulder. "Can we talk?" Evan dipped his head to the side to silently plead that he wanted a word in private.

He could see the concern pooling in Bobby's eyes but the Captain nodded nonetheless. He set down his cup, nodded at Chimney and got up to follow Evan towards the stairs. Clearly something had to be wrong if Evan didn't want to talk in front of the team.

"What's up… is something going on?"

"I…" He didn't know how to word this. He hadn't told any of them about his family, none of them even knew he was married. Let alone that he had a son.

He sighed, tapping his phone against the palm of his hand as he fidgeted his weight from one foot to the other. He had to do this, he had to go because it wouldn't be fair to (Y/n) or Rowan to leave them both at the hospital without him. Rowan was going to have a meltdown, he would be scared out of his wits and if they had to take him for a scan or give him any kind of shot or IV, (Y/n) would have to pin him down. Evan had to be there with her.

"Bobby, I don't wanna ask, but I… I have a family emergency, I need to go to the hospital. Can I go? I'll make up the overtime I swear."

"Is everything okay?" He wasn't pushing or prying, he was testing the waters. Testing whether Evan felt comfortable enough to open up and tell him what was going on.

He sighed and looked down at his phone and when he unlocked it, he showed his homescreen to Bobby. Evan's favourite picture; the three of them when they were at the beach and the five year old had the cheesiest grin on his face. Rowan had such a lovely smile and his laugh was like music to Evan's ears, but it was hard to capture his smile in a picture, he seemed to sense the camera and stopped smiling immediately.

Which was why Evan loved the picture, it had been the first selfie he took of the three of them where Rowan continued to laugh. Evan had (Y/n) laid between his legs and Rowan stood up in her arms, leant back against her chest, his head tossed back in the brightest smile Evan had ever seen.

"My boy, Rowan. He's in the emergency room, he's not been well but he's got brain damage, he… he doesn't like doctors, I need to be there to help calm him down."

He could see the wave of emotions rushing across Bobby's hazel eyes. Surprise, confusion, revelation, happiness and then panic. All together, all at once. All for Evan.

"Go. Don't worry about the overtime, as long as you message me and let me know everything's okay and how he is. And I wanna know everything about them when you're back."

Relief had never taken hold of Evan so much as it did in that moment. He could feel his knees close to giving way beneath him and before he could stop himself, he pushed forward and looped his arms around Bobby's neck. He reeled his Captain in for a hug that took him by surprise, but caused a quiet laugh to rumble Bobby's chest.

"Thank you." Sincerity clung to Evan's voice and he felt Bobby pat his shoulder before he spun and bolted for the stairs.

He had to go grab his bag and keys and make his way down to the hospital. He had to go get to his family.

It didn't take him long to get there and Evan pulled up in the closest space he could find, barely locking the jeep before he was bolting down the path towards the emergency room.

His body turned to the right, aiming for the reception desk, ignoring the waiting room that was oddly full for lunchtime on a weekday. He knew the protocol, they would see that Rowan was autistic and they would try and get him seen to first. And if Evan couldn't hear his son then he wasn't in the waiting room, he would be in one of the assessment rooms with a doctor.

"I'm here for Rowan Buckley, my wife brought him in about twenty minutes ago."

"Buckley… he's in cubicle three, straight down the corridor, I'll buzz you in."

Evan sighed and mumbled his thanks before he bolted through the door as soon as the receptionist pressed the button, allowing Evan through into the assessment ward.

He couldn't contain the relief he felt as his knees shook and he bolted over to his family once the room was within his sight.

(Y/n) was stood in the middle of the room, next to the bed that Rowan was sat on. She had her arms around his middle, letting him lean back into her chest while she kissed the top of his head. But as soon as Rowan looked up, something sparkled in his eyes and he started his round of screeching noises that sounded similar to 'mememe' over and over.

"Hey buddy, hey I'm here." Evan crouched down in front of the bed and let Rowan push forward into his arms.

He could feel Rowan's crackling breaths in his neck and his usual murmurs and noises faded into sharp breaths. He'd never heard Rowan so out of breath before. Rowan could usually make noises over and over without looking like he was breathing, he even hummed as he ate sometimes. Hearing him so out of breath and feeling the way he clung to Evan made him want to cry.

"How is he?" Evan let Rowan tuck into his chest and he kissed his hair before he looked up at (Y/n).

"They think it's pneumonia, I asked them to wait for you, they wanna do bloods and an X-ray, he's not gonna like that."

A groan burned at the back of Evan's throat and he tilted his head down, burrowing his nose and lips into Rowan's curls for a few moments to try and gather some strength and courage from somewhere. Rowan wasn't good with needles, he wouldn't be okay with them taking bloods from him and an X-ray was going to frighten the life out of him. Evan had had more than his fair share during his teenage years.

(Y/n) moved round the other side of the bed and perched down next to Rowan while she reached down for Evan. Her fingers feathered along his neck and across his shoulder and she managed a soft smile when Evan leaned his head on her thigh.

They stayed like that for a few moments until the door opened and the nurse who had seen them earlier walked back in along with a doctor.

Nurse Janey had been very sweet with Rowan and he had been calm enough to let her take his temperature, but he wouldn't let her do anything else.

They had all been very understanding whereas some people, even health professionals, weren't considerate with Rowan. (Y/n) had walked out of a doctor's appointment before when the GP sighed and tutted at Rowan as if he could control the way he felt or the noises he made and he hadn't understood why Rowan wouldn't sit still or cooperate.

This room was a children's assessment room, clearly. Evan took note of the flowers and clouds painted onto the walls and the few toys in the corner of the room to help kids concentrate and feel calm.

"I take it this is dad?" Janey placed a clipboard down on the table and smiled at Evan when he stood up and nodded. He kept an arm around Rowan's shoulders, letting his boy lean against his leg while he coughed and rocked back and forth on the bed.

"I'm Frida, I'd like to check Rowan over and then take some bloods. I know that won't be easy, but if we can get this confirmed as pneumonia, we can get him on antibiotics and hopefully send you all home."

The doctor walked over to the three of them and wheeled a stool over so she could sit in front of Rowan. She removed the stethoscope from her neck and placed it in her ears, looking between both parents for their approval before looking down at Rowan.

"I need to listen to his breathing."

She tried to move the stethoscope near Rowan's back, but he wasn't impressed. He leaned back into (Y/n), pushing back when she tried to lean him forwards and as soon as the doctor's hand was near him, he smacked her hand away.

"Rowan no, don't do that." Evan held his hand and sat down next to him on the bed while (Y/n) kept hold of his waist and tilted him forwards.

A low grumble whined past his lips and he mixed between coughing and something like a growl when the stethoscope pressed down on his back. He shimmied his shoulders from side to side, trying his best to get away but he was surprised when the doctor pulled away after a minute. He clearly assumed every test was going to hurt.

"Okay, blood pressure next. This doesn't hurt, sweetheart." Her smile was calming, but she could see the five year old didn't trust or understand her.

His head tilted to the side and a perplexed look filled his curious yet weary eyes when he looked at the black band that was moving suspiciously near his arm. He let Evan lift his arm up but when the band went around his wrist, he screamed and flung both arms out, shuffling back into (Y/n).

"Baby it's okay," (Y/n) soothed, kissing his temple as she leaned into the bed to cuddle Rowan, but he shook his head from side to side and kept screaming in protest. His arms flapped at his sides like a bird trying to take flight and Evan dragged his hand across his chin. He wished he could show Rowan it wouldn't hurt and that he was safe, but words weren't going to do that.

"If he'd feel safer with you doing it, that's fine." Frida held the blood pressure cuff out to Evan when she clocked the logo on his shirt.

He knew what he was doing and Rowan was his boy, he would trust Evan not to hurt him.

"Buddy, look. Safe, see, it's okay." Evan slipped his arm through the cuff and strapped it around his forearm to show Rowan it wasn't something to hurt. He kept tapping it until Rowan reached out to skim his fingers across the material, and then Evan tapped his shirt. It was like a piece of clothing.

Part of him felt bad. He knew once the band tightened around Rowan's arm, his son was going to lose trust in him. He was going to have a fit and scream and become angry that Evan had lied to him because that tightening feeling would resonate as pain for Rowan. But they needed to make sure he was okay and the more tests Rowan had, the more he would become used to them.

They had to get him used to hospitals for the future, for any other illness or problems he had. He had to know that this was to make him better.

"Daddy's doing it, see?" (Y/n) murmured against his ear and she lifted Rowan up to sit him on her lap.

He coughed and made his usual mumbling sound, but he stopped fighting when Evan slid the band around his arm and strapped it around.

The way Rowan looked between Evan and the band had Evan's heart picking up and he felt like he was going to be sick once he turned the machine on.

(Y/n) looped both arms around Rowan's waist, her eyes locked with her husband as he shuffled closer until their knees were touching. She shivered, pulling in on herself when a shrill scream left Rowan's lips. His right hand immediately moved towards the band and his breathing turned into escalated, shallow huffs as he began to panic.

He dug his fingers into the band and tried to wrench it off until Evan held his hand, but he flung his arm out, trying his best to hit Evan or (Y/n) or anyone he could reach. He didn't like it. They were hurting him. They were scaring him.

He continued to scream until he didn't have any air left and his shoulders bashed into (Y/n)'s chest as he wriggled from side to side, trying to shimmy his way off her lap.

"Shh, baby it's okay. Almost done, almost done baby."

"Buddy, look at daddy. It's okay." Evan kissed the palm of Rowan's hand before he pressed Rowan's hand against his cheek. He leaned closer until their noses were touching, something Rowan loved doing almost as if it was his way of giving kisses to those he loved.

Their eyes locked for a few seconds and Rowan paused his screams and slowed down his wriggling attempts to break free. Evan knew his boy had to be calm or the blood pressure reading would be sky high and it wouldn't be accurate. He had to calm down to get the most accurate reading so they knew if he was okay or if his blood pressure was high before he began to panic.

"All done."

As soon as the band was unstrapped from his arm, Rowan let out a frustrated scream and slapped his hands down on his legs as he shook back and forth like he was telling them he wasn't impressed.

"What's the best way to take bloods? I'd assume he won't like his arm being held behind his back?"

For some children, they would get them to have their arms pinned against their back so they couldn't see the needle. But Doctor Frida guessed that would only send Rowan into a further state of panic which they didn't want to do. But they needed to take bloods, and it would be best to do that now rather than have to get a specialist to come down to put him under anaesthetic which would only upset Rowan all over again.

Evan looked across at (Y/n), both of them sharing a look before Evan reached out for him. They were going to have to restrain him. It was the only way Rowan would let them do anything.

"What we did for the vaccines?" Evan muttered, to which (Y/n) nodded. They had formed a routine for his vaccines which had worked well, only giving Evan minimal bruises afterwards.

Shuffling back, Evan sat up on the centre of the bed and spread his legs. Once he patted his thighs, Rowan immediately crawled over to sit with him. Evan spun him round so Rowan was sat with his back against his dad's chest and he smiled when (Y/n) shuffled closer next to his thigh.

Evan deadlocked his left arm around Rowan's torso, pressed his lips against his head and pinned his right arm over his son's chest right across his collar bone. He made sure he wasn't holding too tight, but just enough so Rowan wasn't going to be able to get out of his hold.

"Hands please." (Y/n) smiled and held her hands out to Rowan, waiting patiently for him to place his palms in hers and squeeze.

"Quickly."

Evan's marching order was heeded and understood.

The doctor placed a tie strap around Rowan's right arm just above his elbow which made him frown, but he didn't move. As soon as his eyes locked on the needle, he was pushing back into Evan's chest like it would make a difference or allow him to escape.

(Y/n) held his hands tightly, trying not to hurt or bruise him and she pulled on his arms so they stayed straight and he couldn't hit out at them.

Once the needle was in his arm, Rowan screamed.

It was a horrid sound that mixed with the tears that began to stream down his face. He gasped, drawing in another gulp of air that he used to belt out another scream. His feet began to lift and swat down against the bed until Evan lifted his right leg and looped it on top of his son's legs, pinning them down to the bed.

Evan braced his chest but he gasped when Rowan slammed his head back into his chest. It was enough to wind him and he knew he would be bruised later, but he held strong and tensed up into Rowan. This was for his own good and it wouldn't hurt for long.

"Shh, buddy it's okay."

"Brave boy, you're doing so good." (Y/n) kissed the back of his hands but she bit down on her lip when Rowan screamed and tried to scratch her wrists. His nails pierced her skin deep enough to draw blood and he shook her arms until she pinned his arms down into Evan's thighs. He couldn't do that or he would move the needle imbedded into his elbow. They couldn't have him ripping a vein and getting blood everywhere, that would be extreme pain that Rowan wouldn't be able to cope with.

The doctor murmured "Almost there," as she switched the vile for another one. They had all agreed to do as many tests as they could, to make sure everything else was alright. They wanted to test for any infections other than pneumonia and make sure Rowan wasn't lacking any vitamins and blood tests would check his organs like his liver and kidney function.

It was safer to do more tests since Rowan couldn't tell them if he was in pain or if anything was wrong. This would keep him safe and healthy.

"Shit! Rowan- Rowan don't do that!"

Evan growled, closing his eyes and tipping his head back when Rowan sank his teeth down into Evan's forearm.

He'd never done that before.

He had hit, slapped and kicked both parents before when he was frightened or in a meltdown, but he had never bitten either of them. But Evan's arm was across the top of his chest. It was pinning him down, preventing him from moving. It was right there and with his legs pinned down and (Y/n) holding his arms, the only way Rowan could express his fright was to bite down on the arm beneath his chin.

"Rowan no!" (Y/n) fumbled to hold his hands in one so she could reach out for his chin. She wriggled his jaw and leaned closer to make him relent, if he locked his jaw he would bite Evan hard enough to draw blood and they didn't want that.

"Done."

The doctor was quick to pull away from the situation and as soon as she did, Evan loosened his grip. He held his arms out at his sides and moved his legs, letting Rowan scuttle from his arms and flop onto (Y/n)'s lap instead.

He screamed into (Y/n)'s knees, bashing his fists into her legs as he curled up over her lap, shaking and silently asking for comfort.

"Are you okay?" She looked across at Evan and shuffled closer while she lifted Rowan up and settled him on her chest so his head was on her shoulder.

Her eyes focused on Evan as he shook his wrist to get some feeling back but he let her reach out for his arm. He skimmed her fingers over the teeth marks in his forearm and cringed. He was going to have a large bruise there in a few hours, and those indents were sharp enough to draw blood wheels beneath the skin.

"That hurt more than a tattoo." Evan muttered under his breath, but there was no malice or annoyance in his tone. He understood Rowan's fright and seeing Rowan curl into (Y/n) told them he knew he had done wrong.

A bite mark was worth it when it meant making sure Rowan was going to be okay. It was more than worth it.

***

"Cap… you're here." Surprise flooded Evan's voice but he couldn't help the way his lips curved up into a smile when he looked down the corridor.

They were all here.

His team had come down to the hospital to see him- to see his family. They didn't have to do this. They had all done a long shift, they should be heading home to their own families and relaxing before their next shift. They didn't have to come down here and check on him.

"We don't wanna intrude, but you didn't call."

"We just want to know if everything's okay." Hen stuffed her hand in her back pocket and jutted one hip out to the side.

She still couldn't quite believe that Buck had his own little family. She pegged him as being in a relationship by the way he didn't talk about going on dates or meeting anyone and every time someone on a call asked him on a date, he just blushed and kindly turned them down.

And there was something natural and loving about the way Evan was with all the kids when they were out on a call. He knew how to calm them down and talk to them and get to their level, but no one guessed he had a wife and child hidden away at home.

"Cap said you've got a boy, why didn't you say anything? You know him and Chris will probably hit it off, right?" Eddie nudged Evan's arm and gave his shoulder a tap before he looked around, trying to guess which room held Evan's family.

It had been a long time since Eddie had been down in the children's ward of any hospital. He forgot how bright and colourful everything was here.

"I just wanted to find the right time to introduce you all… Rowan can get attached but, not everyone can understand him." It may take Rowan a while to get used to new people, but once he did, he loved them completely. Evan had to be sure the team could understand him and more importantly, be willing to take the time to learn his ways, before he introduced them.

"Is he okay?"

"Pneumonia, but he's on antibiotics, and he takes after me with his appetite, so he's gonna be fine. We can head home in the morning."

Rowan had no problems taking the liquid antibiotics the nurse brought round every few hours. And he had eaten all the dinner they gave him and he tried to take Evan's dinner too which showed he was feeling better.

He had taken a powdered inhaler, mainly because he thought it was a toy, and his breathing was evening out.

The only thing the nurses couldn't do was give him an IV drip or an oxygen clip in his nose. But they were satisfied that Rowan was drinking enough of the shakes and juices they gave him so he didn't need an IV. Once he was cleared in the morning, he would be going home with a weeks supply of antibiotics.

"Oh, Buck that's great." Bobby nodded and his smile was full of relief. He had been on edge all afternoon since Evan left. He just wanted to know everything was okay.

It made sense, all the pieces clicked into place after Evan left. His little ways, his habits, his nervousness about wanting to go home or when something seemed off. It all made sense when Bobby understood who Evan had waiting for him at home, and he wanted to check on Evan before he went home so he didn't have to worry all night.

"Do you wanna come and say hi?" Evan pointed behind him at the room he had been ready to enter before the team walked down the corridor. He had gone for a coffee for him and (Y/n) while Rowan was settled.

"You sure?"

"Come and meet my family." Evan opened the door and pushed in before anyone could give it a second thought.

He knew the team were going to be his second family from now on and he wanted them all to meet and get along. If they could love and embrace his wife and son like they welcomed him into their family, everything would be fine.

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #hen wilson #eddie diaz

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ninyard · 2 days

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do you think if aaron and katelyn had kids (twins possibly?) that andrew would make a pact with katelyn not aaron to protect them if anything happened. Been considering it for a while now

I’m imagining what that’d look like and all that comes to mind is if Aaron ever mentioned something in therapy along the lines of not being able to cope if his kids grow up the way he did. They’re talking about the future and Aaron is talking about kids with Bee, and he says something like,

“I really want to have kids. I do. I want to give them what I didn’t have. But I’m afraid that I still don’t know any better, and I’m just going to fuck them up anyway.“

“And what if you did? Or at least, think that you did?” Betsy asks. “What if something happens, or you make a little mistake in raising them, what then?”

And he thinks about it for a minute. He looks at Andrew briefly, he looks at himself. He can’t look at Betsy. Maybe his eyes are glued to the ceiling.

“I couldn’t live with myself,” Aaron answers. “Knowing things could’ve been different and they weren’t.”

I think the deal that Andrew could’ve made with Katelyn, when he finds out that she’s pregnant, would’ve been to always, always, always, prioritise their children over Aaron. It doesn’t make much sense to her - why would Andrew, who has always been so fiercely protective over Aaron, now say to her don’t put him first?

No matter what happens - if Aaron relapses, if he overworks himself, if his nightmares get worse or his past comes back to haunt him, Andrew wants her to promise that she’ll never let the kids suffer for the sake of Aaron. Andrew can always look after him. He can help in anyway he knows how. But what’ll only make things worse is if Aaron starts spiralling, and now his kids start to see him as addict dad, scary dad, angry dad, absent dad. Mommy doesn’t have time to play with us because daddy won’t get out of bed. It’d kill Aaron to become the thing he’s always resented his own biological father for - not being there, not caring about his kids. To hear his kids say I hate you would destroy him.

So Andrew makes her promise to shelter them from that. Aaron will worry and scream and cry don’t you take my fucking kids if she ever takes them away from him while he’s recovering, to her moms house, or somewhere else.

He’ll raise hell so she doesn’t leave with them; but he won’t survive if they stay.

He won’t survive if his kids grow up just waiting for dad to have a bad spell again. Waiting for something to happen. Going to sleep afraid of what mood dad might be in when they wake up. Growing up remembering what it looked like when dad hadn’t showered or shaved in two weeks. What it sounded like when he yelled at mom because he’d been working for three weeks straight. The way his eyes looked when he was high, and they were too young to know what it was.

He’d rather be locked in a bathroom with Andrew outside the door for a month, his kids thinking that daddy’s on a business trip, than expose them to the life he only has because of his fuck up parents.

Maybe that’s a deal Andrew makes with Katelyn. Maybe.

#does that make sense??#why he would do that??#I really like that idea

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rivkae-winters · 3 days

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Zack Fair, Violence, and Tragedy

Over the last month or two I’ve seen several posts about the nature of Zack Fair’s tragedy and his seeming heel-toe-turn and thought I’d chime in.

Also like last time: this is only my interpretation of canon, there is no one true analysis to take as gospel. If you disagree/differ in opinion/even just want to talk please reblog or dm! I enjoy talking to other people about this sort of thing, fandom is all about discussion after all!

While I agree with the sentiment I’ve seen going around that Zack’s relationship to violence plays a role there are other nuances and factors at play here. I’d argue that it’s more accurate to say that Zack is becoming more aware of personal and professional culture outside of SOLDIER and outside of both ShinRa’s constraining grip and Angeal’s attempts at protection. Even then it takes great personal tragedy caused by the inherent contradictions of ShinRa’s reality for him to realize that he has functionally been on the wrong side.

Sure he’s not callous like Cloud is in the beginning of original and Remake, but he certainly isn’t horrified at his actions just because there is violence. I’d argue the violence of his actions isn’t the main horror to him in isolation. I’d argue that even the death that results from violence isn’t what the core of the issue is either.

Zack’s hinging point is more his loyalty and his pride. What he does for other people and what he believes in and of himself. Specifically these things in conjunction with his desire to be a good person.

The language of Pride, the non-localized direct translation of the word hokori or 誇り(JP CC Script), is what’s going to be used here rather than Honor.

誇り | Hokori - To take pride in; To boast of

Definition Sources: 1, 2, 3

Just keep in mind that I’ve written this from as neutral a point of view as possible on the matter of pride since the Western perception definitively does not apply. To be proud is not a crime and it is not foolish it simply is.

Zack initially places his pride in SOLDIER- in what being a SOLDIER means to him. In how being a SOLDIER is his and that they are his people and thus he lets ShinRa policies define how he frames his morality. Thus ShinRa defines good in Zack Fair’s life.

Zack wants to be a hero. He wants to help people. He is trusting and kind and respectful to people consistently outside of the conflict of the mass desertion. Zack genuinely wants to be a good person and help other people, good or otherwise. He is led to believe by ShinRa propaganda that the best way to help people or to be anything meaningful in this world is through them. This is a baited trap that he falls into, Zack is prime prey this trap was intended to catch.

He is angry at Genesis and horrified by Angeal, especially at the beginning, not for cruelty or violence or even really death… He is angry at them for their betrayal. Sure he is violent and angry in the instance he thinks Angeal has murdered his own mother, as with Genesis and his parents, but that does not define his antagonism, his hatred, his regret, his sense of justice with them at all.

Zack does not raise his sword at Genesis for the people of Banora, he raises his sword for SOLDIER.

Zack understandably feels, and has been, betrayed.

He is hurt and angry and alone in a way he’s never been since he got into the SOLDIER program. He falls deeper into the illusions of ShinRa for that reason, angry and hurting and grieving the life he had with people in it who will never return. There is a deep sense of nostalgia throughout Crisis Core in the sense of the word’s initial meaning: the pain of missing home. Specifically the homes we find in people.

Even as he believes in ShinRa's twisted reality Zack wants to help. He wants to protect those he cares for. Zack wants to be good. Unfortunately in Zack Fair’s life the undisputed definition of good is now written by the ShinRa Electric Power Corporation alone.

Then he meets Aerith.

Suddenly ShinRa’s version of right and wrong have opposition but the control that ShinRa has over his life, total and complete as it is, prevents that from sinking in. Zack is perceptive though, around Aerith he is her version of good and then he has to go back to what equates to his phase of reality. A sanctuary is not safe, not truly, when watchers are peering in through the back door ready to drag you out by your feet if you misstep.

Zack wants to be a man Aerith or anyone won’t be scared of. He wants to do that not because he is suddenly horrified at his own violence but rather in consideration of others. Zack is highly empathetic after all once he can see someone else’s perspective. He wants to be what Aerith wants, even if he doesn’t really and truly understand it yet, because he cares about her and cares about her opinion. He cares about her comfort. Zack still puts most of his pride within SOLDIER though. That means that Aerith’s morals cannot sink through his skin to his center, not like Angeal’s had. She makes him think but she is not shaping his mind, he is left to do that himself.

Zack spends a lot of time questioning Angeal and being upset at and about him off screen even more than on screen. We don’t get a front row seat for all of it. The big takeaway is that Zack doesn’t shed Angeal’s morals that he’s taken on himself. He can’t after all, not with ShinRa only just seeming tarnished. ShinRa would need to rust and crumble fully before he actually can let them go. Before he can be free in his own mind.

ShinRa chips and rusts in an instant under Sephiroth’s hand. The last holdout crumbled in the fight of two victims of ShinRa and someone who will become one soon. ShinRa is no longer the defined of good, not after what Zack sees is the response to the Nibelheim Incident.

ShinRa not being good, worse even ShinRa being bad breaks the entire morality system. The illusions crack and Zack is forced to examine himself, his actions, and his biases in ways Aerith made him want to but that he couldn’t afford to truly indulge in. Even more that he was scared of self introspection in a sense, of the paradigm of his reality shifting even further.

He eventually truly reframes his actions and has to reckon with them (and himself) at the end of the game, chapter 9 and onwards. It is only then that he actually LOOKS and is fully horrified by what he sees of himself. That horror only progresses as he fights for both his and Cloud’s lives. That horror only builds as he realizes he’s exactly the person who his girlfriend SHOULD be terrified of despite his best attempts- that he’s everything she was talking about. He’s everything she was talking about even after trying to change the way he acts around her.

To abuse the innate metaphors: Zack Fair goes to Nibelheim, a well trained attack dog, still seeing relatively little wrong with fulfilling ShinRa’s orders. Zack is only then on the cusp of figuring out that he does not want to be there, that he is the antagonist of the planet’s (and Aerith’s) story unwittingly.

Zack Fair leaves Nibelheim beaten. He tries to go back to the safety of what was once his home prior to ShinRa only to be waylaid.

Zack Fair leaves Banora free and irrevocably changed.

He is free in the sense that the illusions he held himself too are crumbling even more with knowledge that his demons are men too. He is free through the knowledge that he is one of those demons. , that he has been shaped to be one, and that good intentions pave a terribly walkable path to hell.

Zack leaves with the knowledge that he was the monster in the closet. The knowledge that his sword was not just the executioner’s blade but the enforcer’s. The sword kept clean in favor of bloody hands and higher risks is now drowning in pools of it. Zack leaves with the knowledge that he never would have been truly free.

Yet he is in the sense that he can choose- actually choose- what he wants, what he values. He chooses Aerith and he chooses Cloud as he has each time before. He chooses violence. It is something he knows and among what he is good at. It is not all he is but it is a tool he can use.

He chooses to pay the price of freedom.

Crisis Core is a tragedy and Zack and Genesis both are tragic figures at its center. Zack’s arc is angled to the viewer for maximum effect but Genesis’s does mirror it in a way just on an offset path already initiated. Sephiroth is also a tragic character, undeniably so. However structure wise his role is more murky given the way he has the ability to be the god waiting in the machine, a guaranteed victory or unavoidable altered trajectory should he choose to act, for most of the story.

And that’s a large part of why I love Zack as a character, aside from things I’ve said before about what makes him such a good narrator. Zack is the unlucky prodigy at the center of a story about wars, abusers, connections, and perspectives. He wants to be good, he wants to be a person that helps.

He can’t, not really, not in the way he wants.

Crisis Core is a cautionary tale about exactly that going wrong and how anyone can be taken advantage of.

#zack fair #ff7 #ffvii #crisis core #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #rivkae writes #long post #Sephiroth is the deus ex machina functionally for cc and I adore that and about him #and what it does to his arc #If anything it aids in his feeling alienated since his power and control over the narrative LITERALLY separates him from the world #puts chasms between himself and the people that he considers his fellows that he despises but that is a post for another day #i need a tag for analysis or something #random unprompted essay be upon ye

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sidekick-hero · 10 hours

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It's finally here, my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai - I was so delighted when I found out you were my giftee 💜💜💜 Your prompt 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone' really tested me and took me out of my writing comfort zone. I hope you like it and that I did your prompt justice! Special shout out to the best beta in the whole world, @acasualcrossfade 💜🙏

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1 (5.6k) under the cut

"Rob! Robbie!" Steve yells as he walks into their two-bedroom apartment, kicking the door shut behind him. "Robin Juniper Buckley, where are you?"

He hears the telltale clatter of dishes and sure enough, he finds his roommate and best friend in their tiny kitchen washing the dishes. It's his turn to do them, but his schedule has been hell this week. He's been spending so much time at the firehouse cooking for a crew of five to twelve perpetually hungry firemen and women that the thought of cleaning up their kitchen at home has made him want to cry.

"I'm here doing the dishes, because if I didn't, we could have proven Darwin's theories right here in our kitchen." Despite the scolding words, she doesn't look particularly angry at him, and he figures he'll be forgiven in no time. She knows he's been working himself into the ground lately, pulling double shifts whenever his boss will let him. Living in Chicago is expensive enough, but Steve also has to think about Max's education. There's no way his little sister can't live up to her full potential just because their parents are assholes who stopped caring about their children the second they turned out not to be the perfect son and daughter Richard and Emily Harrington wanted them to be.

He walks up to her and hugs her sideways, resting his head on her shoulder for a moment as he mumbles, "'m sorry, Robs. I'll make it up to you."

She sighs, and he knows he's already forgiven. "I know you will. It's okay. Not like I forgot to do something once or twice."

He leans back to look at her for full effect, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, like when you started dating Chrissy and were so busy having sex that you barely left your room or her apartment?"

Robin swats at him with the towel slung over her shoulder, but there's a smile on her face at the memory.

"Okay, now that we've established that you're jealous that I have an incredibly sexy and wonderful girlfriend," Robin says, ignoring his indignant Oi!, "do you want to tell me why you stormed in here yelling out my full name, which I've clearly forbidden you to use except in emergencies?"

Her question brings back the excitement that propelled him from the grocery store to her apartment in record time, and reminds him of the news he's been dying to share with her in person, rather than by phone or text message. He needs to see her reaction firsthand.

Taking hold of Robin's shoulders, he locks eyes with her azure gaze, unable to contain the grin that splits his face in two. "She’s gone!"

Robin blinks in confusion, prompting him to clarify. "Grandma Harrington, she's kicked the bucket, bit the dust, you name it."

A puzzled expression lingers on Robin's face momentarily before realization dawns. "No way! She... really?"

Unable to contain his excitement, Steve gives her a gentle shake. "Yes, really. Grandma Harrington finally called it quits."

They look at each other, their grins widening until they both look like madmen. Steve is aware that all of this is probably a highly inappropriate way to react to the death of a human being, but Eleanor Harrington had been the worst human being Steve or Robin had ever had the displeasure of meeting in their lives.

She had visited her son and daughter-in-law infrequently over the years, never giving them much warning when she was coming over and occupying one of their guest rooms for the unforeseeable future. More than once, Steve had come home to find her sitting at the kitchen table or on the sofa, staring at him with her judgmental gaze, disappointed in him before he even crossed the threshold. Any friend who had the misfortune to accompany him was ordered to sit with her and be interrogated, always found wanting as her grandson's companion. Everyone was beneath a Harrington, even Tommy, even though his father was a lawyer. ‘Too many freckles and that awful grin’ was one reason, ‘I don't like the way he looks at you, Steven, too greedy’ was another.

Robin, who had become a permanent fixture in Steve’s life after becoming his project partner in one of their shared classes his junior year, hadn’t fared any better. To this day, Steve has no idea how Grandma Harrington found out that Robin was queer, because at that point Robin hadn't even been out to her parents, only Steve. But when she did, she had spit at Robin. Steve had lost it then, too angry, too hurt to think rationally. He had thrown caution to the wind and come out to her, too, even though the thought of liking boys was still new to him, something he was still trying on to see how it would fit.

He doesn't even know what he expected to get out of it. Certainly not acceptance or even approval, no matter how much a part of him still craved that from his family. The only thing he got was her calling them both horrible names and saying such cruel things that Steve had to hold Robin and wipe away her tears afterwards.

That episode alone was reason enough for Steve to hate the old woman. Never mind that she had raised his father to be a bigoted, heartless man who had never learned what it meant to truly love anyone, not even his own son or daughter.

When their faces begin to ache from smiling, Robin shrugs casually, as though dismissing the significance of the moment. But Steve knows better. He knows the weight of hurt and resentment they both carry because of that woman.

"Rest in peace, I suppose," Robin remarks with an air of detachment, and Steve can only offer a noncommittal hum in response, realizing that any words he might speak would only add to the inappropriate nature of their conversation.

"Alright, so what does this mean for you, Steve?" Robin asks, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Is this going to change how you deal with your family?" She pauses briefly before adding, "And what about your inheritance?"

Steve offers a slight shrug, his expression turning pensive. "I'm not entirely sure yet, Robs," he begins, his tone serious despite the lingering excitement from their earlier celebration. "I mean, I guess it means I don't have to deal with her anymore, which is definitely a relief. But as for the rest of the family, I don't know. They've never been particularly warm or welcoming to me, you know that. I mean, you’ve been there when they wanted to send me to a psychiatrist to help me get over being queer. I doubt they've changed much since then."

Robin nods in understanding, recalling the numerous tales Steve had shared about his family's cold demeanor and their refusal to accept him for who he is. She reaches out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I mean, you know she was loaded. So yeah, there is an inheritance, but -" Steve continues, his gaze distant as he contemplates the implications. "There's a condition in Grandma Harrington's will. I can only inherit if I marry someone.”

Robin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Marry? Seriously? That seems archaic, unfair, and downright manipulative."

Steve lets out a wry chuckle. "Tell me about it. Grandma always did enjoy her control games. It's probably her way of trying to mold me into the perfect, straight grandson."

"You've got to be kidding me! Seriously? You... what, have to marry some woman so you can be the perfectly acceptable heterosexual son and grandson your family always wanted? Fuck off!" Despite the heavy topic, Steve can't help but smile at Robin's outrage on his behalf. He could always count on her. After all, she was there to pick up the pieces when his parents told him in no uncertain terms to either learn to be straight or leave.

He left and lived with the Buckleys until Robin graduated and they moved to Chicago together. It was the best decision he could have made, even if it still hurts some days.

For a moment, they both fall silent, each lost in their thoughts. Then Robin squeezes his hand again. "We'll figure it out, Steve. We always do. And hey, maybe this is the perfect opportunity to really stick it to them."

"What do you mean?"

A devilish grin spreads across Robin's face. "Tell me, does her will say that you have to marry someone, or that you have to marry a woman to get your inheritance?"

Oh.

Steve looks at Robin, his eyes wide with sudden understanding. “You’re a genius, Buckley,” he says, grinning. “I think it’s time for us to pay my attorney a visit.”

Turns out Robin is right. It seems that Grandma Harrington wrote her will at a time when gay marriage was still illegal in most states, and never thought to change it after the courts made it legal in Indiana and Illinois in 2014.

Steve's lawyer, who he honestly couldn't afford if it wasn't for the fact that she was an old family friend, agreed to help him pro bono just to give his bigoted parents the middle finger, as her sister was a lesbian. She said that the requirements of the will would be met if Steve married a woman as well as a man. As long as it was a legally recognized marriage, he would get close to half a million dollars. Enough to pay for Max's education, the rest of Robin's student loans, and maybe even a small house here in Chicago for him and Max once she was done with college and wanted to live with him until she was ready to be on her own.

The only problem was that Steve didn't have anyone to marry, woman or man.

His last serious relationship had been in high school, for crying out loud. Not for lack of trying. Steve loved love, but love apparently didn't love Steve back. Robin insists that's because he's sabotaging himself. She thinks deep down he's afraid of getting hurt again, so he only falls for people who a) he can't have or b) are a terrible match outside the bedroom.

She might have a point, he thinks in his more introspective moments. He has no shortage of options, and he always finds someone to hook up with, but he rarely makes it past the second date.

"Maybe you could hire someone?" Robin suggests, sipping her Dirty Shirley. After seeing John for some legal advice, they had gone straight to their favorite bar to hold a strategic summit over drinks.

So far, they have only made it to the drinking part.

Sighing deeply, Steve considers the idea for a second before shaking his head vehemently. "No way. I'm not paying some stranger to marry me. It's probably illegal anyway, and it sounds a lot like prostitution."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say when Robin raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "And what, Steven, is wrong with prostitution?"

"Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. A job like any other job,” he hastily assures her.

His answer seems to satisfy her and he knows she's right. It's just that sometimes the things he's been raised to believe, thanks to his extremely conservative parents, are hard to leave behind. They have a tendency to bubble back to the surface when he least expects it.

"That's what I thought. But I get it, it feels wrong to pay someone to marry you."

"Exactly. And I mean, it's about trust. Who guarantees that they won't double-cross me somehow and run off with all the money? I can't risk that."

He looks over at his best friend, his platonic soul mate, whom he trusts with his life and, more importantly, his little sister's life. Right now, he thinks, there’s only one person he could imagine being married to.

"How about we get married?"

He regrets it as soon as he asks.

Not because he thinks Robin wouldn’t do it, but because of the two of them, she is the one in a loving, stable relationship that could very well end in marriage one day. It's unfair of him to put her in a situation where she feels like she has to choose between Steve and Chrissy.

Worst of all, he knows she still wants to say yes to him. He can see it in the soft, sad way she looks at him. They both know they'll spend the rest of their lives together anyway. The simple truth of both their lives is that they would do anything for each other, walk through fire, face any horror the world could throw at them, just to see each other happy. And it's not like they couldn't get a divorce later, so Robin could still marry Chrissy, sure. But it would take something from her.

"Steve, I -"

"No, wait, don't answer that. It was a stupid idea, I shouldn't -"

"It's not stupid, it's just -"

As they talk over each other, their voices clash until they both instinctively reach over, silencing each other with a hand over their mouths at the same time. Their wide-eyed surprise quickly gives way to laughter as they realize the absurdity of the situation.

Steve is the first to recover from their fit of laughter, quickly sobering up to reassure Robin in a mild voice. "Seriously, Robs, I shouldn't have asked you to do this because it puts you in a shitty position. I know how much you love Chrissy and it wouldn't be fair to either of you. Especially when the two of you could finally get legally married. I don't want to take that away from you and make you agree to a fake heterosexual marriage like it was the 80's."

She looks at him with her big blue eyes, impossibly soft, and takes his hand in hers.

"Steve," she begins, her voice as gentle as her gaze, "thank you. For getting it, I mean. It wouldn't be all fake, though. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you're right, I'm not in love with you and you're not in love with me. And we both deserve to marry someone we feel that way about. In a perfect world, we would. I mean, I don't even know if Chrissy would ever want to marry me, but," Robin stops here, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "Oh my God, Steve!" Robin cries out in excitement and wonder, her reaction clearly colored by the strong cocktails their favorite bar always provided, before her voice becomes softer again, but no less wondrous. "I really want to marry her. I want to marry Chrissy so badly, Steve, I can't believe I didn't know.”

"And I can't believe you're realizing this after I asked you to marry me. Way to keep a guy's ego in check," Steve jokes with a big grin on his face. It's less news to him than it is to Robin, to be honest. Ever since Robin stumbled into their apartment with a piece of paper in her hand with a number on it, gushing about the gorgeous woman she had just met at the bookstore where she works, Steve knew his best friend was completely smitten with Chrissy Cunningham. That was four years ago, and they are still going strong, obviously madly in love.

She throws her arms around him and says, "I'm sorry," not sounding sorry at all, still giddy with her newfound realization. "I'll make it up to you. I actually might have an idea how we can get you your inheritance and still stick it to Grandma Harrington."

"I sense a but."

"But I can't guarantee it'll work."

"And..."

"And you might not like it at first, but honestly, it's genius, you just have to trust me. And if it really doesn't work out, then we'll get married and you'll pay for my 'I'm-sorry-I-love-you-please-stay-with-me-even-though-I'm-fake-marrying-my-best-friend' vacation with Chrissy. And the divorce."

Maybe it's the three beers he's already had, or maybe it's the fact that Robin would actually marry him just to help him out that makes him agree. He's sure he'll regret it along the way, but maybe he should take a leap of faith. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. No way to find out but to try.

Drunk Steve is clearly an optimist.

"I feel like I'm going to regret this, but all right. What's your plan?"

Robin grins mischievously, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she leans back, holding Steve at arm's length.

"Steve Harrington, you won't regret this, I promise," she declares, her tone brimming with confidence.

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress a chuckle at Robin's enthusiasm. "I'll hold you to that, Robin. But seriously, when do I get to know the master plan?"

Robin's grin widens, but then she sobers slightly, a hint of seriousness creeping into her expression. "I need to talk to Chrissy first. It's... complicated. But I'll tell you everything as soon as I can, I promise."

Steve nods, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension swirling inside him. "Okay, fine. Just... don't keep me waiting too long, okay? I've had enough surprises for one night."

Robin reaches out, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I won't, Steve. Trust me, this is going to work out. You'll see."

Despite his lingering doubts, Steve can't help but be swayed by Robin's unwavering confidence. With a nod, he squeezes her hand back, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever Robin's plan entails, he knows his best friend has his back. And maybe, hopefully, they'll come out on top after all.

Drunk Steve should not be allowed to make any decisions, sober Steve decides.

Because he instantly regrets trusting Robin's secretive plan as soon as he steps into their apartment a week later, only to find not just Robin, but also her girlfriend Chrissy and Chrissy's best friend and roommate Eddie lounging in their living room.

All eyes turn towards him as he enters.

Robin's expression is the most transparent. Though the furrow between her brows is subtle, her lip-chewing and rhythmic tapping betray her worry, likely anticipating his reaction to whatever scheme they've concocted.

Chrissy, on the other hand, wears a radiant smile, her bubbly demeanor suggesting she's delighted about something. Yet, Steve can't shake the feeling that her enthusiasm might spell trouble. While he adores Chrissy and cherishes her friendship almost as much as he does Robin’s, he's well aware of her propensity for stirring up mischief.

Their shared history stretches back almost as far as hers and Robin's. It's a tradition for Robin and him to introduce their second dates to each other, one of their many platonic soulmate privileges. Steve often wonders if this practice inadvertently sabotages any chances of a third date, but he's unwilling to compromise on the importance of his friendship with Robin.

In any case, if someone can't accept his slightly unconventional bond with his best friend, they're probably not the right fit for him anyway.

Eddie's expression proves the most enigmatic. He appears utterly deer-in-the-headlights, his wide brown eyes resembling those of a startled doe. His usually pale complexion now seems even more ghostly. Steve notices how Eddie's fingers have been incessantly tousling his hair, rendering his dark curls resembling more of a chaotic bird's nest. Steve recognizes this as one of Eddie's nervous ticks, alongside fidgeting and rambling. His suspicions of Eddie's unease appear justified as Eddie avoids meeting Steve's gaze, opting instead to stare down at his hands, absently toying with his rings.

Something is going on and Steve has a sinking feeling that he won't like it.

"Um, hi?" He offers tentatively, his gaze flitting between Robin, Chrissy, and the nervously fidgeting Eddie. "Am I missing something here? Is this an early birthday surprise? Because if it is, I hate to break it to you, but my birthday's not for another nine months."

Before Robin can respond, Eddie interjects, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Hey, Steve! Yeah, it's been a while, hasn't it? Nah, no birthday party, man. We definitely know when your birthday is!"

"We do?" Chrissy chimes in with a playful grin, clearly jesting, as Steve knows she's the one who meticulously keeps track of important dates in their circle.

Eddie, caught off guard by Chrissy's banter, stumbles over his words. "Uh, yeah, of course! February 23rd. Remember that baseball-themed cake from last year? I almost dropped it on the icy ground!"

Steve remembers it too, mostly because he was so chuffed to learn that in order to save his cake, Eddie had taken the fall instead, choosing to land on his admittedly not very well padded backside so that the cake could live. He had been unable to sit properly at their little gathering all evening. Steve had felt sorry for him, but also fond in the face of Eddie's sacrifice for him.

"It's so good to see you, Steve. You look great today, that shirt really makes your eyes pop. Doesn't it, Eddie?" Chrissy gushes, nudging Eddie's side as he just stares at Steve in a way that makes Steve worry that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Eddie's mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Um..."

"Okay, what's going on, Robin?" Steve turns to the only person who doesn't act like she's on drugs or caught red-handed at a crime scene. Or both.

Robin, bless her soul, doesn't beat around the bush. "I told you I had a plan. This," and she points to Eddie of all people, "is my plan."

"That's Eddie," Steve states the obvious, but he feels he can't be blamed. Nothing makes sense, so he's glad for every single thing he knows. Then the rest of her statement sinks in.

Blinking at her, his eyes wide, he says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can't be serious!"

There's no way she's saying what he thinks she's saying. Because right now it looks like her plan to help him get his inheritance involves marrying Eddie. Which, no. No, no, no, no. Not Eddie. Maybe she means some other plan that Steve has forgotten. Like Eddie helping him with Dustin's birthday surprise, which sounded much more likely than -

"I told you he didn't want to marry me," Eddie's voice sounds loud in the stunned silence after Steve's reaction. "This was a stupid idea, I don't even know what I was thinking." Then, addressing Steve with his eyes somewhere to Steve's right, "Listen, man, I'm sorry. I totally get it, no hard feelings, okay? I wouldn't want to marry me either."

The wry chuckle doesn't sit well with Steve, nor does the way Eddie still refuses to meet his eyes, or the fact that he's started walking toward their front door. Before he can think about it, his hand wraps around Eddie's arm as he passes Steve on his way out.

"Eddie, wait." Eddie does, looking at Steve's hand wrapped around his forearm. Steve's grip isn't tight, so Eddie could easily break free, but he doesn't. He just looks, quietly waiting. Still not meeting Steve's eyes.

"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I was just surprised, okay? A little warning would have been nice." The last part is mostly for Robin, who at least does look contrite at his words.

"It's fine, Steve, really. Don't worry about it. Now, if you'll excuse me. Places to be, things to do, see you when I see you, you know the drill."

Steve could let him go, maybe should let him go, because Eddie is obviously embarrassed and the whole situation has gone south anyway. But Eddie doesn't sound fine, and Steve feels terrible about his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. Something that is usually Robin's specialty.

So instead of letting Eddie walk out of the apartment, Steve steps in front of him to block his way. "Eddie, please wait. I really didn't mean it the way you think I did, you have to believe me. You're a catch, okay? Anybody would be lucky to marry you."

And okay, wow, he didn't mean to say that, but it's the truth.

"You really mean that?" Eddie asks, pulling a strand of hair in front of his mouth. It looks incredibly cute and Steve wants to kill Robin for putting him in this position. She had said that he would not like her plan and that should have been reason enough for him to stop her. Because now he's between a rock and a hard place.

Either he lies and lets Eddie walk away thinking he's not good enough to be married, even if it is a scam to get his grandmother's inheritance. Or he tells the truth and risks getting his heart broken or their friendship ruined.

Because the thing is, Steve means every word. Steve has had a crush on Eddie for years. He's been able to keep those feelings in check because he and Eddie never spend time alone together. It's always group hangouts, or Eddie being there when he and Robin visit Chrissy, or Eddie joining them when they meet at their apartment. It also helps that Eddie keeps his distance from him. Sure, he's nice enough to Steve, but every time Steve tried to get close to the other man, his efforts were rebuked until he got the memo and stopped trying.

Before he can come to a decision, Robin steps in.

“I’m sorry we’re springing this on you, Steve. I could’ve prepared this a little bit better but Chrissy and I were so excited that we found the perfect solution, we couldn’t wait any longer.”

“And this is the perfect solution,” Chrissy jumps in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Tell him Robin!”

Infected by Chrissy's enthusiasm, Robin’s voice carries an equally excited note. “You said it yourself, you’d need someone we can trust. And you trust Eddie, don’t you?”

Steve can feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “Of course I do.” He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath next to him at his decisive tone. Eddie’s a great guy, him rejecting Steve’s advances doesn’t change that.

Of course he trusts him because Eddie never gave him any reason not to.

But he remembers the stories Chrissy told them to explain why Eddie was a little wary of Steve. Apparently, Eddie didn't have it easy growing up. Chrissy wouldn't go into details because it's Eddie's story to tell, but she did mention that people used to treat Eddie like a criminal, a fuckup, trailer trash. Especially the jocks and rich kids at their high school, so since Steve was kind of both, Eddie had been wary of him.

So much so that Steve had overheard Eddie asking Chrissy once, early in her relationship with Robin, why Robin kept bringing that rich asshole jock over all the time. The words had hurt, but Chrissy's explanation had softened the blow. Still, he'd stopped trying to flirt with Eddie after that because he'd figured that even if Eddie came to accept him, he'd never be interested in going out with someone who reminded him so much of all the bullies in high school who had made his life a living hell.

All of which makes it easy to see how Steve's implicit trust could come as such a surprise to him. Which still kind of stings, because Steve had hoped that the last four years had shown Eddie that Steve was not what Eddie expected him to be just because he grew up rich and popular and into sports.

Before he can get lost in his thoughts about Eddie and what he has to do to earn Eddie's trust the way Eddie has his, Chrissy chimes in again, raising a finger. "So you trust Eddie. That's like the most important thing. Second," she raises another finger, making a playful peace sign in their direction, "Eddie's single. Not like Robin."

Ah, okay, Steve can see why Chrissy is so excited about her and Robin's 'plan'.

"'m sorry, Chrissy, for proposing to your girlfriend," Steve sheepishly apologizes, giving her a crooked smile, which she returns with a sunny one of her own.

"No hard feelings. I get it, believe me. Being with Robin means being stuck with you. Just like Robin is stuck with Eddie. Which is the third reason why this is a great idea," she adds, raising another finger. "We all spend a lot of time together already. Nothing really needs to change."

Aside from the fact that Steve secretly wishes things could change between him and Eddie, he's not so sure that's true. But to argue her point would mean revealing more about his feelings than he's comfortable with, so he lets it slide for now.

Objectively, Steve knows they're right. If he didn't still feel... something for Eddie, he probably wouldn't even hesitate. Because yes, he trusts Eddie not to screw him over, and he's also a close acquaintance who's been teetering on the edge of being a real friend for years. But he's also the reason Steve had to leave last year's Friendsgiving party early because Eddie showed up with some guy who couldn't keep his sleazy hands off of him. It drove Steve crazy to see someone else have what he wanted so badly.

In the end, it is the thought of being able to give Max all the chances she deserves that finally makes him look back at Eddie.

"And you're sure you want to do this? Fake marry me, I mean. Because, Eddie... I can't tell you how much I appreciate you being willing to do this to help me out, but... you don't have to do this, okay? It's not your mess or your fucked up family, it's mine."

Finally, Eddie is looking back at him, meeting his eyes.

"I do. Wanna do this, I mean. I know I don't have to, but -" Here Eddie pauses, apparently searching for the right words. After a few seconds he breathes a sigh and continues. "Look, for once, I love the idea of sticking it to an old homophobic hag, so that's a big incentive. Also, I was actually hoping you could help me out as well. Because there's this amazing record store that's for sale, but the bank refuses to give me a loan unless I have some kind of collateral. So I'm kind of hoping that being married will sway them."

At Steve's surprised look, Eddie hastens to add, "I don't want your money! That's for you and Max. Just the fact that I'm married to someone with money will probably be enough. And we can totally do a prenup or something like that."

Eddie sounds anxious, like he's afraid he's said something wrong, when in fact he's doing Steve a huge favor and asking for something incredibly small in return. Steve thinks he can't be blamed at this point, he just has to touch Eddie. So he does, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Eddie. Really. Of course we can go to your bank and convince them to give you the loan. It's the least I can do to thank you."

It feels good to be holding Eddie like this, even more so when, after a moment's hesitation, Eddie hugs him back. Even though they've known each other for years, Steve can count the times they've done this on one hand. It's never lasted this long either, and Steve can't suppress his disappointment when Robin interrupts the quiet moment by clapping her hands excitedly, causing Eddie to pull away.

"Oh, I'm so glad we worked it out. Go us!"

Chrissy, just as excited, jumps up and down next to Robin. "I'm so happy for you guys! We can totally help you plan the wedding. It's going to be great, I know it."

Steve and Eddie look at each other in growing confusion.

"Chris," Eddie begins, his voice careful. He's clearly more experienced in dealing with an overly excited Chrissy, so Steve lets him take the lead. "You do realize that Steve and I are only getting married on paper, right? I don't think -"

"You can still have a wedding!" Chrissy interrupts, clearly not deterred by anything silly like pragmatism or logic. "It's still a special day, and you deserve to celebrate it with your friends and family."

Before Steve can say anything - what, he has no idea - Robin jumps in on the ‘you should have a real wedding’ party.

"Besides, it has to look real, right? Why wouldn't you have a real wedding if you were getting married? Everyone would wonder. It's just easier to pull out all the stops and make it look as real as possible so no one will question it."

And that... actually made a lot of sense. Goddammit.

Looking at Eddie with an apologetic look on his face, Steve says, "I guess she's right," and shrugs his shoulders in a ‘I wish she wasn't, but what can you do’ kind of way. Eddie, to his credit, just sighs and nods, accepting his fate with as much grace as he can. He glances at Chrissy, who is almost vibrating.

"Fine. Chris, do you want to help us plan a wedding?"

She actually squeals. "Yes, yes, yes!" Then she rushes over and pulls them into a group hug.

Steve, looking over Chrissy's head at Robin, opens his arm. "Come here, Buckley." It's all the invitation Robin needs to join their celebratory hug.

For just this moment, Steve allows himself to feel as if this is all real, him and Eddie announcing their wedding and their two best friends in the whole world sharing in their happiness. It's a nice feeling, and when he leans his head on Robin's shoulder and looks at Eddie, he finds him looking back with the same soft smile on his face as the one Steve thinks must be on his own.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #platonic hellcheer #steddie summer exchange #my writing

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sunboki · 2 days

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⎯ SUMMER SOLACE. (TEASER) a StrayKids fiction

Stray Kids x implied! fem. reader (no poly)

TROPE. friends to lovers (not really lovers, more just strangers to friends), summerschool! au, reader is in student council as class prez

WARNINGS. cursing, very troubled childhoods, han lacks parental figures, minho’s mother passed, bullies, mentions of depression & anxiety, just overall very angsty themes, healing, sadness, comfort comfort comfort — ALL OF THE ISSUES/TROUBLES OF CHARACTERS ARE 100% FICTION

AUG'S NOTES. and without further ado comes one of my favorite pieces i think i’ve ever written before! well, this is only the teaser, but hopefully you enjoy!! please stay tuned for posting :)

SYNOPSIS. It was never your intention to be the one in charge of a summer school class—a troubled summer school class, but here you were. Eight boys in this classroom, all with their individual stories and silenced opinions. And somehow, you can’t find it in yourself to give up on them.

or alternatively :

Eight kids, one purpose. Get them to be okay with one another — with themselves — by the end of the summer.

Eight kids, one purpose.

Get them to be okay with one another.

Although, you didn’t realize that yet. That your Class President position would throw you right into such a mess (or what you referred to it as the first time you got word).

We all have the things we hate. The things we say we “heavily dislike”. But in reality, we hate it. It incessantly grates our nerves, has our patience forming into a ticking pipe bomb, enough that sometimes, we explode. Say things we don’t mean, get angry, get mad.

The thing that sets these boys apart, according to the acknowledgements paper you were given, is that they don’t even try to be sweet, they don’t ask for forgiveness. Not towards one another, and most certainly not towards anything else.

Your job is just as you said. Get them to be okay with one another.

Catch? There’s a time limit.

Twelve weeks of summer school.

Twelve weeks for eight boys to, no, not be nice to each other, not be best friends (not even friends), but just to be okay with being in the same room, be within six feet of each other without tearing someone’s throat — or their own — out.

Is it simple? Absolutely not.

You want to try though, because up till now, everyone has given up on these boys. People that the school district have deemed always successful have pushed them aside, called them impossible.

You won’t be the next to give up.

Twenty chairs in the classroom, yet not two sit next to each other, spaced out by at least three chairs per person.

Your roster sits upon your desk, listing their names by alphabetical order.

(Sitting on the furthest end of the classroom) Bahng, Christopher - nickname: Chan

He’s a football player (god knows how), who, despite hardly showing up to practices and arriving to random games—is always responsible for their wins. In some way you’re sure that’s the only reason he hasn’t been kicked off.

Christopher’s an interesting case.

He’s got amazing grades and passes school without fail, but no one has any clue about his home situation or whether he even has a home or not. You’re told he’s extremely distant and closed off, sort of void to life. He was sent due to excessive absences.

(Planted dead front of the class) Han, Jisung

His record states he’s been sent to the counselor eleven times in the first two weeks of school for disruptions and inappropriate behavior. Jisung has an older brother who’s valedictorian, but they never speak to one another and don’t seem to have the best relationship. He’s said to be obnoxiously straight-forward and senseless, you wonder if it’s true.

(Nearest to the window on your right) Hwang, Hyunjin

Despite his popular facade, Hyunjin is regarded as the “troublesome face-card” by many deans and counselors alike. Students adore his looks, but he couldn’t butt heads more with Jisung, and they’re often sent out together. Hyunjin is believed to have a worrisome superiority complex according to the last counselor he’s been seen by.

(Opposite of Hyunjin across the classroom) Kim, Seungmin

Not much has been recorded as far as Seungmin goes. He’s apparently a huge instigator in lots of illegal activity surrounding campus, but no one’s certain. His last counselor claimed he stayed silent throughout his consultation and answered suspiciously vague for almost every question.

(A few seats behind Jisung) Lee, Felix

Both him and Christopher have been reported for vandalizing parts of the school in odd, incomprehensible words like “Miroh” and “Maze of Memories”. Some gossip that they’re secretly a part of an underground gang. But upon first glance, Felix looks harmle—

A hand raising grabs your attention. It’s Jisung, wearing a grin when you nod for him to speak.

“How much for a tit-pic, Teach?”

Everyone is silent, and you hear Hyunjin stifle a snicker in the distance.

So this is what they meant by inappropriate behavior.

The corner of your lips twitch slightly, but you successfully maintain an unnerved expression, instead, smiling back at him.

“Let’s not ask questions like that, alright?”

Jisung amusedly huffs, still eyeing you incredulously. Although, he doesn’t say any more, and you continue down the roster’s descriptions.

Lee Minho whose info is conspicuously sparse , Seo Changbin who lashes out randomly without clear conscience (some claim he’s bipolar, you think different), and Yang Jeongin remain, bio’s dotted in unspecified theft attempts, assumed messy family situations and brief mentions of mental illness that seems to a follow a similar pattern to the rest.

Stacking the papers upon your desk, you card eight sheets of notebook paper from the drawer, walking through rows of desks to pass each boy a slip.

All eyes are on you now, and your breathing feels excessively loud in the stifling quietness.

Lightly clapping your hands together in hopes of stirring some sort of sound in this stale air, you speak as fluidly and audibly as your voice will let you.

“Today’s assignment is simple. I want you to write everything about yourself.”

Confused brows lift, primarily from Minho.

“Whether it’s what you like to do, what you don’t like to do, your favorite things, your favorite places, books, movies.”

Another hand raises. Changbin, you remember his name.

“Yes?”

“We’re not in fifth fuckin’ grade.” He growls, words booming. That was another complaint: Changbin’s explosively unprovoked opinions.

Biting back the urge to snap back, you place both hands on the podium at the front of the class, essentially grounding yourself.

“Yes, well this is—“

Somebody grumbles an incoherent sentence, and Changbin is immediately on his feet, chair squealing, eyes wild with fury.

Second complaint: his flaming temper.

Grabbing a fistful of Chan’s shirt (presumably the one who muttered), he sizes up the taller boy, spitting wild curses.

Inhaling deeply, you approach them, withholding the instinct to wince at Changbin’s yelling.

“Changbin, please go back to your seat,” You usher, watching them never take their eyes off one another. Chan is eerily unmoved, though effortlessly intimidating nevertheless.

The former spins around, shoving the other boy off to the side and resorting to sizing you up now, chin lifted, gaze belittling.

One press and you’ll have assistance come in and help. You remind yourself, referring to the small red button residing in your pocket that sends a direct call to the other counselors.

What good will that do? Your first step is getting them to be okay with you, not to mention each other.

No. You can do this, you’ll be fine.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” He spits, glaring as you back up the more he steps forward. That is till you stop and cause him to stop as well, leaving only a few centimeters separating your faces.

“Because,” You ease, shoving a finger into the center of his chest sternly. “I’m your teacher now, and you’re stuck with me. So deal with it.”

Tilting your head, you meet his eyes, hooded behind a veil of black hair.

“I’m sure a fifth grader could understand that, right?”

And with that, you point to his seat and spin on your heel, taking a seat and watching the boys, one by one, lower their heads and begin writing. Well, excluding Changbin, who’s hands stick by his sides, staring at you.

He chews his lip then turns around, shuffling back to his desk.

By the time the dismissal bell echoes, you would like to say you see light in the distance, but the endless tunnel ahead tells you you’re far from even beginning.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

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Turns out Janet was actually a swan maiden, Jack stole her cloak of feathers. Instead of being an obedient, biddable wife, as he expected, Janet channeled the swan. She was unruly, aggressive, and utterly two faced since to everyone else she looked like the epitome of grace and serenity.

She was also very monogamous and even more angry at being caught by Jack because she was already pregnant when he took her feathers! Tim's bio parent was some random wizard who turned out not to be worth Janet's loyalty, especially since the idiot assumed that Tim was Jack's child despite the timelines not actually working. Jack was also stupid enough to assume Tim is his son.

Tim finds his mother's cloak after he gets back from the Brucequest. It doesn't have the same power to bind him the way it bound his mother, but they were her feathers, she is his son, her blood, and he can wear them.

Tim mostly takes to napping in the pool at the manor or some other body of water there since none of the Bats, or Damian's pets, will bother him while he's a swan making it a safe place to sleep. He does not tell the Bats that he's the swan. YJ knows and they put a pond into their base where Tim can hang out.

Yo? Is this based off of that one myth/legend/story where magician turned swans into women to try to marry them? I don't remember much about that story, but hella sus for the magicians. They can't manage to find someone they are compatible that they try to turn animals into humans hoping the animal will be so grateful they fall in love with the magician 🤨

I don't know about y'all, but if someone, without my consent, transformed me into another being hoping I'd marry them, I would commit a murder. This is all I've known. I don't want to be anything else.

Anyways, I'm not too sure about the cloak of feathers part. Is that similar to the selkie? Selkie have a "coat" that allow them to turn into their seal counterparts. In the legends, humans who obtain the coat thus trap selkie on land and can force the selkie to do what they want (like pieces of shit). This usually leads to nonconsensual marriage. I'm not an expert, so feel free to look more into this myth. I like AUs that chat about it.

Anyways, good on Janet. I hope she made Jack's life hell for that stunt. What a piece of shit. Also, since the magician doesn't have her feathers, I hope Janet killed him. May the gods never rest his soul.

I'm curious if Tim, since he's the son of the magician, has any magic powers.

How much did he know about his mom and her situation before her death?

Has Tim ever turned into a swan before finding the feathers, or did he just suddenly become a swan and have to deal with it? How much part swan is he? Does he have any physical traits when he's human? Behavioral tendencies? Can he eat bread?

This is a cool AU I'd love to explore more of ^^

#tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #swan tim au #i obviously feel very strongly about consent

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artismeyou-12 · 2 days

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[ TW VENT POST ]

Actually, I was 8 years old,me and my brother and my big brother entered my parents' room, suddenly they shouted loudly from my mom, my dad was angry with his mom and someone was fighting.after my dad making cry for my mom and my dad made out to my mom out of house her , On Thursday morning my dad wanted to leave his house He said "I don't want to be here. I want to go out. I hate this my family " and my mom is crying....

#me ( creator )#fuck my dad is bad and horrible #Spotify #i hate my dad #tw vent #vent post #art #my art #they people father day #💔..

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messierthanthou · 2 days

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Untitled - Bottom!Billy - Rated E - 2.5k Words - Written in Honour of @aggressiveviking !! Enjoy, everyone!

If it wasn’t for Neil, Billy could and would love more. But it has all been beat out of him, scared to ever even think of the things he wants to. Daily life is a masquerade, him in a lion’s mask, the rest surrounding him those of lambs.

It was a long way to the top of the food chain, but even greater would the fall be, if it was that anyone dared threaten his role at the top of the school’s hierarchy.

Which - perhaps unintentionally - one Steve Harrington attempts purely by existing. Those deep brown eyes that sees past the mask of the still freshly crowned king disturbs Billy on such a ground-shaking level that it is do or die, whether either of them wants to or not, a battle is brewing between the two, and Billy, no matter his pains in life, is not ready to give up.

So he finds himself in the pouring rain, standing just a few feet away from the Harrington mansion, soaked to the bone but it doesn’t cool off his heated temper nor does it calm down his pounding heart.

Billy doesn’t know exactly what he wants, but he can’t let it keep bubbling up inside him at school, because what if he loses it? Exactly what it is he could lose, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he needs to release some of the pressure burning inside him.

Without forethought as to what he’ll say or do once Steve is there, he knocks on the door and rings the bell. He’s angry, he’s nervous, he’s unsure; everything floods his senses all at once, and as soon as the door opens even an inch, he pushes it all the way and stomps inside, past a startled Harrington.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Steve erupts immediately.

“You alone?”

“Why?”

“No reason.” Billy shrugs, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“You can’t just barge in like this, Hargrove. What are you even doing here? Get out!”

The door is still wide open.

“You’d really send me out into the rain? Cold.”

Harrington groans out in displeasure, then closes the door. Billy figured he’d be a good sport. He’s too kind, even to his nemesis, and it makes the fury in Billy boil worse.

“I’ll get you a towel.”

While Steve vanishes to go find that towel, Billy stomps around the place, dripping on the floor as he goes. He knew they were rich, Steve’s parents, but this is ridiculously fancy for Hawkins. Hell, even their family portrait in the living room is an actual painting, and not just an oversized photograph.

Harrington catches up to Billy when he’s neck deep in the fridge, looking for the cold beers that he finds.

“You can’t just-” Steve starts off with, but Billy is quick to crack open the bottle against the marble countertops.

Then Billy yanks the towel from the brunette’s grasp and throws it over his shoulder before taking a large gulp of the beer, which tastes far better than what comes out of a keg.

“Nice castle you got here, princess.”

Steve avoids eye contact at that, looking to the side and shifting in place. “What do you want?” he asks skittishly.

Billy doesn’t answer right away as the bottle occupies his lips, and soon there’s not a drop left. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?” Steve scoffs. “You barge into my house, and you don’t know why?”

The blonde shrugs and shakes his expressionless head.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

As a matter of fact, he does.

Steve then looks down at the floor. “You’re dripping everywhere, dry up for Christ's sake!”

Then Billy smirks a little, teasingly so. “Make me.”

He watches as Harrington clenches his fists before they come near his face, and Billy accepts it; the inevitable punch coming his way. It’s possibly what he deserves, he’s unsure of actually what, but a hit might be it. And yet, he doesn’t hurt, instead he feels softness caress his face, going through his hair, as Steve dries him off with the towel.

“Take off your jacket.”

“What?”

“I said take off your jacket,” Steve repeats.

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t get you dried off and warm, you’ll get sick.”

“And why do you care?”

The pretty boy takes a step back, towel still in hand. This time he’s the one to shrug, and doesn’t offer another word, lowering silence onto the two of them.

For a moment too long and quiet, Billy considers why Steve wants him out of his clothes, but perhaps the reason is simply more innocent than what Billy imagines. So he does as suggested, taking off his jacket.

“You can borrow some dry clothes, but once the rain is done you’re out, understood?” Steve sounds so certain of that.

“Sure thing, princess.”

Steve exhales hard enough for Billy to hear it, and is that a slight blush to his cheeks? Or anger at the pet name?

“Come on.”

Harrington’s bedroom is surprisingly barren in comparison to the rest of the house; nothing on the walls besides that shit ass ugly wallpaper, a few pieces of furniture around the room, curtains, and lamps. Billy’s room is a cluttered mess in comparison, but at least his got personality, and this is more like a showroom at a furniture store.

“I’m sure I got something that will fit you…” Steve starts rummaging through the dresser, and as his back is turned to Billy, the blonde starts undressing.

All of it.

And when Harrington turns around, there’s just a gentle gasp from open lips as his eyes seem to be guided like a magnet down to Billy’s limp dick. For whatever reason, Billy gets a kick out of the stare, feeling heat shoot through him to his groin.

“Billy…”

“What?” He grins wickedly. “See something you like?”

Steve looks away, but being naked in the pretty boy's bedroom, it excites Billy beyond belief, beyond understanding. Beyond common sense.

So he takes a step forward, just a small one to test the sudden tension between them. Steve tries to take a step back, but bumps against the dresser behind him.

As much as his heart is beating him into a weak pulp, Billy can’t stop walking closer after that initial tentative step. And he plans to continue till Steve says or does something to stop him. But he doesn’t, so the blonde winds up with his feet next to the other’s, too close perhaps, as he can smell Steve’s body soap and hear his elevated breathing.

They’ve been quiet for too long, so Billy says, “Steve, look at me.”

Without blinking Steve turns his head to look straight into ocean blue eyes, and their noses early touch. He looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy, huh?” Billy whispers in a teasing way, almost sensual without intending to be, but the nearness makes it seem like something it might not be. “You wanna punch me, don’t you? Start a fight?” Billy gazes down at Steve’s plump lips, then back up to meet his stare. “Come on then, do it. Hit me. Show me with your fists how much you hate me.”

And for a second time tonight, Steve touches Billy in an unexpected way, as his mouth gently and experimentally presses a kiss against Billy’s.

Who’s stunned. Such a tender act, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and two thoughts cause war in his head.

Kiss him back, or punch him.

The kiss wins.

But his hands don't stay idle either, as they grab the collar of Steve’s polo shirt and pull him into a far more ravenous kiss than what the brunette offered before. And it does things to Billy that he’s unsure of why it does. He’s confused, angry, furious in fact, but also undoubtedly and impossibly turned on. Never before has he gotten so hard so fast.

And when Steve grabs him by the hips he moans into their brutish kisses. It’s almost as if he can’t think any further past this moment, and yet his hands act by pulling at Harrington’s shirt till Steve takes it off. While his hands are off Billy, they go down to undo his belt and loosen the button on his jeans before the zipper runs free.

With his hands back on tan skin, he softly pushes as he guides Billy backwards and onto the bed, where they both fall together and bounce around a little with slight chuckles.

Billy can’t remember when he last laughed in earnest.

But he doesn’t linger in that moment, instead he crawls back till he meets the headboard and a couple of pillows. Then he spreads his legs for Steve, who places himself between Billy’s thighs and leans down to kiss and nibble across his waxed clean chest. The blonde moans when a tongue finds its way to a nipple, and the tip plays with the sensitive bud, hardening it before lips close around it to suck, and Billy’s sounds grow even more elated.

There are no real words uttered past hoarse curses and yes’s, yet Steve seems to understand what Billy wants as he reaches for a drawer in the side table, and brings out a bottle of lube.

The lid comes off with a clear pop, and the clear fluid pours over three of Steve’s digits. But he pauses, both of them out of breath and silent as the cold lube runs down Steve’s hand and drips onto Billy’s chest. Their eyes then meet, and he can tell that Harrington is searching for approval.

Billy’s heart is in overdrive, but so is his lusty need to feel the other inside of him, so he nods just the once, which proves to be enough for Steve to bring his hand down between them, between Billy’s thighs, between his buttocks and into his hole.

It’s not something he’s used to past a few trial runs with his own thick fingers, but Steve’s are thinner and longer, reaching deeper than Billy expected to, and it takes a moment to get used to the sensation.

And what an amazing sensation it is; Billy gets worried that the pure anticipation of getting fucked by Harrington’s cock might undo him too soon, but he resist the urge to touch himself and finish it all so quickly.

After a few thrusts he dares beg, “More.”

The thrill of a second finger makes him louder, more keen on expressing his incoherent thoughts, and when Steve continues to thrust ever so gently, Billy leaks onto his own stomach whilst gripping at the sheets.

Harrington simply stares starry eyed at the expressiveness of the blonde’s expressions of elation.

It doesn’t take long for Billy to need another finger. “Fuck, pretty boy, more…”

The stretch of the third hurts just a little bit, a slight burning sensation of his rim, but on the inside he feels like melting butter, easy and pliable in the brunette’s hands, a moaning, leaking mess of spectacular nerves coming looser and looser, til those three fingers aren’t enough anymore.

“Come on then, princess, give it all to me. Fuck me.”

It’s more uncomfortable being empty of Steve than it was getting fingered by him, but it gives Billy a moment to breathe without gasping and moaning as he watches Steve lather up his cock and guide it up to Billy’s expectant hole.

Slowly, inch by inch, he glides inside with the most tender of movements, and if Billy thought that Harrington’s fingers were long, reaching where he couldn’t himself, his prick goes past that, pushing in till Billy’s convinced it’ll fill him up completely.

It is breathtaking.

“You okay?” Steve asks him softly once he’s completely inside of Billy.

He nods. “Yeah, I’m fine, princess.”

“Good… Good. I’m gonna start moving, just tell me if you want to stop.”

The blonde understands now why all those girls want Steve. He’s nice. Too nice maybe. Billy can’t stand looking at him, turns his head to the side and nods.

So Harrington starts, pulling out carefully before pushing in again, and Billy swears he’ll meet a swift end to this experience if he doesn’t hold back, for the feeling of getting fucked so gently is beyond excellent. Every motion, every inch, it consumes him with blinding and deafening lust, all of which he gives clear sound to by the way of moaning and gasping.

Then Steve leans in to kiss his neck, somehow finding soft spots Billy didn’t know he had, and it helps in the worst way.

Minutes pass this way, slow thrusts and kind kisses, so tender it might just ruin the war between the two for good, make Billy fall head first into growing a crush on Harrington, something he’s sure he doesn’t want, but doubt comes in with every near loving touch.

“Billy…” Steve mumbles and it sounds perfect coming from him.

So the blonde turns his head to meet those brown eyes gazing dearly down at him.

“Please, keep looking at me.”

Oh it brings forth buried feelings like it’s golden treasure that Billy has been trying to find for so long. Something he didn’t know he even could find within himself. So he looks at Steve as they go through this gentle time together. Billy didn’t think it possible that he and the brunette could be like this. Normally he’s so calculative, thoroughly thinking every word before saying them, practicing in the mirror for hours, but this all came so naturally once he was naked in Steve’s bedroom.

This is easier than hating and fighting him. This is it. Completeness.

“Faster,” he pleads.

And Steve complies, increasing the pace of his thrusts, and every time he bottoms out inside of Billy, the blonde calls out louder and louder, the heat in his gut building up till it engulfs him with fiery passion that can undoubtedly be heard all throughout the woods surrounding the mansion.

“Billy, fuck!” Harrington hasn’t been completely quiet throughout, but now he’s becoming wilder with his voice, calling out the blonde’s name, telling him how amazing he feels, how incredible this is.

All the praise is what brings him to climax, his dick untouched by hands but rubbed between their stomachs proves to be enough friction, making him moan as his body tenses up and his cock empties out in the space between them.

“Don’t stop!” he calls out, riding the wave of ecstasy for a while longer than what masturbation brings him to.

“I-I- ah!” Steve tries to speak, but is cut off as he too reaches the peak, which Billy can tell from the way his thrusts become erratic and his whole body shivers and trembles, then it stills, then collapses onto the blonde with his entire weight.

And Billy releases his grip on the sheets that he’s been choking out this entire time. Everything is peaceful and soft and he doesn’t want this moment to end, ever.

Steve breathes out from exhaustion, and says, “How about a shower?”

Billy hopes that Steve can’t see the little secret smile he has when he responds with, “Sounds great.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #my main account is cum-unist #told you I'd write something for you!!!#If I ever find a title for this it'll go on ao3 too #tw abuse #abuse tw #typical neil behaviour #first time

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sleepyfireball · 2 days

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I loved Season 3 so much (Violet Bridgerton Edition)

If you haven't guessed (God help you) Violet is my favourite character and I have a lot of thoughts about her storyline in Part 2.

First her storyline with John and Francesca. Something I really enjoy about Violet is that she is not perfect, and she actively learns from her past mistakes and tries to do better. That being said, she does still make mistakes. While she is significantly better this season at not pushing her children too hard in the marriage mart, she still does push Francesca a bit. I think she recognises that Francesca loves John, but she is not sure if she is in love with John. She is hesitant to speak to the Queen on their behalf, mostly because Agatha point blank tells her that the Queen will sniff out her doubts, even though Violet said her doubts do not matter in the face of Francesca's happiness. However, I do think Violet benefited from hearing that falling in love can look different, it does not always have to sudden and instantaneous and loud. Violet has a habit of expecting her children to experience love the way she did and it is important for her to recognise that her loved experience is not the only experience of true love. Also, Francesca forgave Violet, which I think was really important as well. An important part of growing up is realising that your parents are people too and as such, make mistakes. The scene of the two of them playing the piano together will live happily in my heart forever, as will John's acknowledgement of Violet's role in her children's lives.

I also found it quietly funny that Violet told Francesca she stumbled over her words the first time she met Edmund, then, not 5 minutes later, was stumbling over her words when speaking to Marcus. Not to mention that in part one, Violet had stumbled through her disastrous introduction to Marcus in the first place.

I love love loved seeing Violet and Marcus's story play out. Daniel Francis and Ruth Gemmell have amazing chemistry together and honestly were amazing in their scenes together. The way that he was constantly seeking her out at social events and he came to call on her was so sweet; even if Violet was so horny watching him eat that little dessert. I think Marcus should definitely be the one to tend her garden and I loved seeing them dance together. A romantic dance for the first time in 12 years for Violet. I enjoyed that she looked nervous but also excited to get to dance again. I also enjoyed that they put their relationship on the backburner to sort out their own issues. That's a really healthy outlook and I love that their communication is strong enough that they were comfortably able to talk about it. If I had my way, before season 4 we would get a prequel series about Young Violet and Edmund, paralleled with Violet and Marcus's proper courtship.

Marcus's scenes with Agatha were also top tier. Daniel Francis and Adjoa Andoh blew it out of the water, particularly in the scene where they both want to go after Violet when she's upset at the Mondrich ball. I feel like that scene hit really hard after watching QC:ABS and seeing just how miserable Agatha was in her arranged marriage. Also, seeing Agatha desperately trying to throw widows who are not Violet at her brother in the hopes that he would get distracted was hilarious, but I did appreciate that he did not waver in his feelings for Violet once. That is exactly what Violet deserves, not some wishy washy man who can't commit, like we were worried he would be, due to the rake comments from Part 1. I really appreciated that Marcus went and apologised, to resolve the matter almost as soon as he found out why Agatha was so angry at him. (her holding a grudge against a 10 year old is mildly hilarious, even if it leads to some pretty bad consequences) and that Agatha was willing to accept his apology and looked most pleased seeing him and Violet together after they had made up.

Now, Violet and Agatha's scenes. Oh my god, Ruth Gemmell and Adjoa Andoh give a master-class in acting because the two scenes they share, in Ep7 and Ep8 respectively are truly some of my favourite from across the whole show and spin off. This friendship between Violet and Agatha means so much and it is clear that neither of them want to jeopardise that friendship. The scene is Ep7 where Violet assures Agatha that their friendship is non-transactional is so important because all her life, Agatha has been told that in order to receive love, she has to provide something in return. Violet tells her, in no uncertain terms, that they will remain friends even after there are no more matches to make. For me as someone who struggled to make true friends for the longest time, seeing this relationship onscreen made me cry. And the scene in Ep8 where they finally actually talk about the discoveries made in QC:ABS is amazing as well. The cinematography in particular for this scene, I adored. The moment Agatha acknowledges that she loved Violet's dad, the camera hides away, behind the couch. When looking at Agatha, the camera is hidden away behind Violet's head. It feels like we are barely supposed to see that scene, because the two ladies are barely supposed to be talking about it. The filmography made the scene feel voyeuristic in a way, like the audience was not supposed to see it. This isn't even to mention the insane acting. I genuinely feel like I am just watching a conversation occur naturally between two people, not a scripted scene that is being acted out. The fact that they finally acknowledged everything from QC:ABS is also monumentsl as it means that Violet and Agatha are willing to move past that and continue their friendship, no matter what. Having Agatha say she will choose Violet over Marcus should he handle things wrong felt so wonderful as well, especially when you have the juxtaposition with Penelope and Eloise and Colin. And panning over to the hat at the end of that scene was wonderful. Not to mention the whole rest of that scene focused on Agatha reassuring Violet about Francesca and John as she had been doing all season.

If I could change anything about this I would add in two scenes. 1. Agatha consoling Violet after she runs out of the Mondrich Ball and 2. Getting Violet and Colin talking about the Whistledown reveal, because we were robbed of Ruth Gemmell's wonderful acting for that scene. I also want to know what was in that letter. I also would have liked to see Violet helping out a little more for Colin and Penelope, but I understand why she brought in Kate and Anthony to help him out.i would have loved more bonding scenes between Penelope and Violet and also Penelope and Agatha, but I was just glad we got the small crumbs of those relationships that we did. Three things I loved, when The Queen told everyone who was not a Bridgerton to leave, Agatha stayed right there and the Queen did not dare question her. And Anthony being overprotective over Violet and Kate telling him to chill. I do wanna see his reaction if we get Violet and Marcus seriously courting through. And the rest of her kids reactions to cluing onto Marcus was basically good for her, which I was very happy about and felt really healthy for their family dynamic.

I could talk about these three actors and these plot lines until the sun burns up, but that'll do for now

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swifty-fox · 1 day

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“You like to test don’t you Bucky,” Gale says softly, such a deep rasp to his words that John knows, knows the other man has to be at least as aroused beneath his slacks as John is. “Didn’t have anyone to tell you no growing up?”

John huffs out through his open mouth, tries to bend forward to relieve the weight of the clamp but Gale holds him steady, hand coming up to scratch through his hair soothingly.

“Or was that about the only time someone gave you a single bit of real attention?”

John’s stomach swoops, like missing the last step in the dark.

“Class clown type, probably good at sports, parents who gave you everything but expected so little it drove you crazy for something real hmm?”

He can feel his arousal pooling at his hip, slipping between the creases of his skin, absorbing into the fabric around it and he’d move his hips for some kind of friction if only for the way Gale holds him so perfectly immobile.

“So you poke and prod and tease some guy you just meant to interview until you realize he might just be able to give you exactly what you need.” Gale says with just enough of exasperated pity, as if of course John needed something, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, how could nobody have noticed it until now. He wants to speak, doesn’t know what he’d even say.

Lips press to his temple, his cheek, fingers tug on the weighted ball just enough to make him grunt “A firm hand and a leash.”

John wonders if it was possible to come just from someone's voice. He thinks his body is making a valiant effort.

“Sit up,” Gale tugs on his hair lightly, not enough to cause any pain but enough to guide him back into an upright position, “I want to get a good look at you, keep your tongue out for me.”

He settles back, squaring his shoulders and shivering at how the ball of the clamp brushes against his collarbones. His mouth is mostly dry now from being open but he can still hear the soft sharp sound of a droplet of saliva hitting e concrete. Gale tracks the movement with his eyes and John knows the second he takes in the sight of his dick. John watches him drag his tongue across his teeth, looking almost angry for a second and John has to bite back his smug smile. Leans back and sets his knees slightly wider apart, a more comfortable stance that also placed him more at display. Gale’s jaw twitches like he’s fighting back amusement again.

A perfunctory hand rubs over his thigh, clad in leather and deliciously textured, stroking through the dark hair along his inner thigh and John is just undone enough that he keens high and loud, head dropping back on his shoulders. His dick twitches against his hip and Gale laughs in his ear. Keeps rubbing his thigh, squeezing the muscle with a soft approving noise. John rolls his hips up into the sensation, any arousal quieted by the pain of the clamp back in full force under Gale’s touch.

Gale makes another soft noise in the back of his throat, like he wants to groan but won’t quite allow himself.

Kitchen Sink is gonna be the longest of my smutfics yet

#swiftywrites #kitchen sink au

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firewasabeast · 2 days

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My Biggest Advocate

(Part 4 of my Wedding series. All parts can be read separately, or together. Read here or on ao3)

Summary: After letting everyone else know that his parents wouldn't be coming to his and Tommy's wedding, Buck had one more person to inform... Maddie.

This was the conversation Buck had been dreading more than any of the others. Telling Maddie that their parents wouldn't be coming to his wedding was going to be difficult enough, but he knew that through all of her anger she would still give him those wide, sad eyes and that was going to be what broke him.

He had gotten to the cafe early, settled in and ordered them each a drink. He knew Maddie would be getting there any second, and he couldn't stop his leg from nervously bouncing up and down as he waited.

Sure enough, just after the drinks arrived, Maddie did too. Buck smiled, waved her over, and got up to give her a hug.

“Okay,” she said, setting her bag down in the empty chair beside them as she sat down. “Spill.”

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Spill?” he asked with a nervous laugh. “Spill what?”

She crossed her arms and rested them on the table as she rolled her eyes. “You remember who my husband is, don't you? Chimney was acting sketchy the second he got home from work this morning. I already knew something was up when he faked a call during our phone conversation last night, but I knew for sure when he got home and apologized for “all the words I cannot say” whatever that means.”

“Why... What makes you think thats's, uh, got something to do with me?” God, why was he even questioning this? It wasn't like he could hide it from her forever. He needed to get it out. Say it.

Just say it.

Maddie looked at him knowingly, her head slightly tilted to the side. “Buck, Chimney tells me everything. If he's keeping something from me, it's gotta be serious.”

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Maddie, I...”

“Did you call the wedding off?” she questioned, concern all over her face. “Did something happen? Is Tommy okay? Are you-”

Buck reached out and took her hand in his, stopping her spiral. “We're fine, Maddie. I promise. Tommy is... he's perfect. It's not about him, or us, really.”

“Then what?” she asked. “I've been kind of freaking out all morning.”

“Okay, okay, but before I- I tell you, I just need you to promise that you'll stay calm.”

“Oh no.”

“And that you won't try to do anything irrational, because I don't need you too. I'm okay.”

“Buck, just-”

“Mom and dad aren't coming to the wedding,” he let out quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

There was silence. A lot of silence. Way too much silence.

“What?” Maddie pulled away from Buck's touch, sitting straighter. “Are you... are you joking?”

“I'm not.”

“What do you mean they're not coming, Evan? Of course they're coming to the wedding.”

He shook his head. “They called me a few days ago to tell me they couldn't make it.”

“Well, why not? Is one of them sick or something? Hurt?”

“No, no, they, um,” Buck sighed. This was the worst part, every time. “They have a cruise.”

Buck could've sworn Maddie's eyes got darker when she heard the reason. “They have a cruise?”

“Apparently so.”

“Buck, I don't... I can't-” She reached over and grabbed at her bag, beginning to dig through it, “I'm calling them right now.”

“Maddie!” Buck reached over and held onto the back, keeping her from getting her phone. “Maddie, please, don't. Just... please don't.”

She stopped, stared at him for a moment before releasing her grip on the bag. Buck dropped it back into the chair.

“They can't do this to you, Buck,” she said, her voice low and angry. “Not after everything we've been through. We've come such a long way with them, and they do this?”

He shrugged. “They're still mom and dad. Always will be, I guess.”

“That's not an excuse, and you know it. They know better than this, Buck. They know what a big deal this is. They could make some type of effort to get their heads out of their asses and actually be there for you.”

“I don't think-”

“And why aren't you more angry about this?” she asked, unable to hold back. “You should be pissed.”

Buck laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I am pissed. I've been pretty angry on and off for days, but I can't let them ruin it all. It can still be a good day. I want it... I want to be happy.”

And there came the look. That wide eyed, tear filled look that Buck had been dreading. “Buck, I... What are we gonna do?”

“I've got all the wedding stuff taken care of,” he began. He needed to keep focused on giving her all the information, so he didn't break down himself. “Ravi actually invited his parents for seat fillers. I've never met them, but the fact they accepted coming their son's random co-worker's wedding at the last minute makes me think they must be good people,” he said with a laugh. “Athena and Bobby are going to walk me down the aisle.”

He got a smile from Maddie at that. “Good choice,” she let out shakily, tears still threatening to fall.

“And I would have told you sooner,” he added quickly, “but I wanted to, to do it in person and we hadn't been able to get together lately, and I guess I had been acting weird at work and that's how all the other guys found out and-”

Maddie reached out her hands for Buck to take. “It's okay, Buck, I understand.”

“You do?”

“I do. Listen,” she gave Buck's hands a squeeze before letting go. “Why don't I call mom and dad,” she started, giving him a look to hold on when he went to protest, “and ask them to video in for the wedding? They should at least be there in some shape or form, if they won't be there physically.”

“Tommy suggested that,” Buck admitted, “and I said no. I just feel like, why bother, you know? If they can't come, why should I bother to try and have them there anyway?”

“I get that. But, I also know you. And while I'd love to never speak to them another day in my life-”

“Maddie-”

“I also know that sometimes we make a decision when we're upset and then we have to live with that regret forever.”

“I had been thinking about it,” Buck said. “Every time I do, I get so mad that I even have to think about that I just say no and move on.”

“Mom and dad will get to live with this decision for the rest of their lives. If I call and just throw that option out there, you won't have to think of it anymore. You'll know you've done everything you could.”

Buck thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah I guess you could call them for that. Just don't get all big sister on them, not right now.”

“Pinky promise,” she said, reaching out her pinky for Buck.

He smiled, accepting the promise.

“However,” she said, once they were done, “after the wedding, all bets are off.”

Buck laughed, his smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while. “Deal.”

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #maddie buckley han #911 #one more part to go and it's all complete!

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 1 day

Text

Before the Sun Rises // Chapter 4

Fresh Start

Pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

Summary: Time with a special friend has you and Joel eager to clear the air of tension that has been causing a rift between the two of you recently.

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: fluff, some family turmoil, and a brief/vague mention of potential SA ( nothing happened )

Masterlist

“You look like crap,” your sister teases when she spots you laid out on the couch, nursing a cold glass of water and force-feeding yourself a cold pancake from the breakfast your mom had cooked hours ago.

“Shut up, Izzy,” you groan, angry at yourself for being so hungover.

“I guess you aren’t coming to town with us today?” she asks.

“No thanks,” you say, taking another nibble of your pancake.

Your mom walks around the corner, digging in her massive, cluttered purse for her keys while she speaks to you, “Izzy and I will be in town for most of the day. I have a lot of errands to run, and she needs some supplies for summer camp.”

You grunt an acknowledgment, still too nauseous to form many words.

“And your father’s gone golfing with Richard; who knows how long they’ll be gone today,” she finishes as she motions Izzy toward the door to leave. Finally, the door closes behind them, and the house is washed in sweet, beautiful silence.

You finish choking down your pancake and chugging a glass of water before walking into the kitchen to search for aid. Thankfully, you find a bottle of ibuprofen and swallow two before trudging back upstairs for a shower.

You’d still be in bed, but you’d made plans to visit Mrs. Mildred way before you had the bright idea to have a girl's night out.

---

Mrs. Mildred was quite the character. When you were younger, you used to view her as the crabbiest old lady on the block.

Once, you accidentally hit a baseball into her yard, which shattered her car’s side mirror. She scolded you for days afterward. The incident made you steer clear of her, only exchanging forced hellos when necessary.

Fast forward to sophomore year of high school, when your parents volunteered for you to help Mrs. Mildred with gardening. She needed someone to plant hydrangeas in her yard, and your parents graciously offered your services without consulting you. Begrudgingly, you went over, expecting a grumpy older woman.

Mrs. Mildred was stern and precise in her instructions, but as you worked together, you noticed her wit and humor peeking through her no-nonsense façade. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to do it. You imagined that if her aging back were up to snuff, she’d never stoop low enough to ask some child for gardening help.

After the plants were in the ground, she invited you inside for refreshments. “Come on inside, honey,” she directed you. She walked inside without looking back to see if you obeyed. You did.

Once inside, she ushered you to her small, round, wooden kitchen table. “Thank you for your help today, dear; I know it’s no fun, but my back is too damn old to bend over like that anymore.”

You were surprised at her crass language, a smile ticking up the sides of your mouth. As you sat at the kitchen table together, sipping homemade lemonade and munching on sandwiches and snacks, you engaged in conversation, chatting away like old friends.

It dawned on you that Mrs. Mildred wasn’t just a grumpy old lady but a girl. A lonely one, especially after her husband’s passing many years ago. Beneath her tough exterior was a woman with many stories and experiences to share with whoever would listen.

From that day on, you started to see Mrs. Mildred in a new light. You greeted her more often and joined her on her porch for afternoon chats. Before you knew it, you had formed an unlikely friendship with the firecracker of a woman, Mrs. Mildred, who turned out to be a great companion and confidante.

---

After a cool shower, you feel much more alive, no longer teetering on the verge of nausea and cringing away from every bright light in your eyes. You dry your hair, letting it fall loosely down your back, and then get dressed for the day.

You choose a delicate, white sun dress that flows loosely across your body, ties into a bow at your back, and has a hem that falls right above your knee—a perfect, relaxed fit to keep you cool and comfortable. Then, you slip into a pair of sandals and head across the street.

As you approach her home across from yours, you smile at the hydrangea bushes blooming with colorful petals, reminding you of your first afternoon here many years ago.

When you reach her door, you can hear the faint sound of old jazz music drifting through her cracked windows. You knock, and a moment later, Mrs. Mildred opens the door, a bright smile spreading across her face at the sight of you.

“Well, look who finally decided to pay this old bird a visit,” she teases, “didn’t think I’d see you again before I kick the bucket.”

You laugh, “You know I’d be pissed if you croak before I got to see you again!” you tease right back, pulling her small frame into a hug.

Mildred was even older now, probably teetering around 80 years old. Her petite frame was bent with age as she’d shrunk since the last time you saw her. Her hair, still white as snow, was curled on the top of her head with a pair of reading glasses tucked into it.

“Come on in, dear; I was just putting on another pot of coffee.”

You follow her inside, taking in the familiar surroundings of her cozy living room. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and fresh linen.

Settling into one of her worn armchairs, you feel a sense of ease wash over you as Mrs. Mildred bustled about, prepping the coffee. Once everything was ready, she joined you and handed you a steaming cup. You took a sip, two sugars, and a whole lot of cream, just how you like it. You smile at the fact that she still remembers after all this time.

Settling into her armchair with a cup, she starts, “Now spill. Tell me something that’ll keep this old woman from dying of boredom. What have you been up to?”

You launch into your spiel about finally graduating but not knowing what you want to do next, about how your parents are pushing you to reach out and accept a job at Richard’s law firm.

She stops you, “Enough about all that; I don’t give a rat's ass about that man. Tell me what’s on your mind, really.”

You laugh, grateful she doesn’t amount your worth to your post-college plans like most people seem to do. So, you dive into a tale of college stories and your time abroad. Only pausing when she interjects her own commentary or asks If the boys you mentioned were “anything to write home about.”

“Definitely not,” you respond. You sip your coffee, considering what you want to ask her.

“Millie, how’d you know when you’d found your husband?” A genuine question, now turning the conversation more serious.

Mildred’s eyes sparkle with something mischievous momentarily before she barks a laugh, a crass joke probably on the tip of her tongue. But then she pauses, her laughter fading into a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Well, honey,” she begins gently, “I’ll spare you the dirty joke this time. When I met my Donald, it wasn’t something remarkable like what you see in those sappy romance movies. He was just a regular guy, rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold.”

She leaned back in her chair, lost in the memories of days gone by. “I knew he was the one for me when he stood by me through thick and thin. He loved me for me, and I never held any part of myself back from him. He saw everything, even the ugly parts, and never once wavered in his love and support. He made me laugh when I wanted to cry and held me close when life got tough. Even put up with my foul-mouthed humor without a single chide. He was my best friend.”

A wistful smile played on her lips as she continued, “You’ll know you found the one when they accept you for who you are, flaws and all. It won’t always be easy, but it's worth it. Real love is messy and imperfect. They might never fully understand you, but they must be with you through anything and everything. Always there when you need them and vice versa.”

You listened intently, touched by the sincerity of her words. Remembering again that her wisdom extended far beyond her crass jokes and witty remarks. “Were you ever worried about whether or not he’d like you for you?”

“Well,” she considers it for a moment, “If he didn’t, that just meant he wasn’t the one for me. So, I said to hell with it and showed him exactly who I was from the start.”

You smile, happy to hear that she’d found someone to love uniquely her, just as she is.

Just as you two are about to launch another conversation, a knock at her door rattles you. “I’ll get it,” she says, groaning as she pushes herself out of her armchair and shuffles toward the door.

“Joel! There you are, come on in,” she waves him inside.

Shocked, your head whips toward the door, and you watch Joel's burly figure enter the room. His shoulders stretch against a worn-looking t-shirt above a pair of loose-fitted jeans and signature work boots that thump loudly against the floor wherever he goes.

“What is it you needed help with this afternoon?” he asks, wiping his feet on the doormat before following her into the living room where you sit.

When he notices you, his strides halt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” he says, at a loss for words. “Didn’t know you had company; I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” the old woman waves him off, “Sit down and visit with us. I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee.”

Mildred shuffles into the kitchen, rattling around, while Joels sits on the couch.

“Feeling alright after last night?” He asks you, thankfully not giving you the silent treatment.

“Yeah, it was rough getting up this morning but I'm fine now,” you answer, sipping your coffee. “What about you and Tommy?”

Mildred reemerges from the kitchen, handing Joel a large mug of fresh black coffee, and settles back into her original chair.

“Had to drag him back home by the night's end.” He says before taking a sip from his mug. “By the time I drove him home and handed him off to Maria, I think he’d already passed out.”

“Sounds like he did his bachelor party right then,” Mildred chimes in with a laugh.

You look at her, confused about how she knew what they were up to last night.

She meets you with a satisfied look, “Don’t be surprised. You’re not my only friend in the neighborhood.” She nods toward Joel, “Joel’s been coming around to keep me company ever since you went off and left me.”

You look to Joel now, eager for an explanation. He looks down at his feet, almost shy and embarrassed. “I remembered you spent afternoons over here before you left. Figured she’d need some company, so I stopped by one day.”

He looks at Mildred now with a half smile on his face. “Ever since then, she’s been exploiting my kindness for free work and rides to doctors' visits.”

The old woman cackles, “It’s the least you can do in exchange for my charming company.”

You smile, and your heart grows warm, knowing that Joel has been here to care for your dear friend in your absence.

Silence fills the air now, the tension between you and Joel still ever present, though lighter now than it has been. You avoid looking at each other too much, and Mildred seems to pick up on the awkward energy.

She breaks the silence, eyeing the two of you. “What’s going on with you two?”

Your eyes dart to hers, and Joel follows suit. “What do you mean?” you ask nervously.

There’s no way she’d know about whatever was happening between you and Joel. Whatever the growing tension was between the two of you, putting a block in your friendship, or whatever it was you had with him.

“I mean what I said. What have the two of you been up to lately? It’s summer break. I’m sure Sarah has been keeping you busy,” she says, looking at Joel before turning to you, “and you're free to do whatever now, too.”

“Right,” Joel says, relaxing, “Sarah’s been jumping at the bit to do something daily. She’s mostly excited about finally being allowed to go to summer camp this year with Izzy.”

“That’s right,” you chime in. “I heard about that. My sister won't stop talking about how excited they are. She’s actually out shopping for supplies with my mom today.”

“You finally gave in?” Mildred teases, “Took you long enough. Poor girl has been begging for years, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Joel concedes, “I just worry about her too much. A whole week away in a camp in the woods? That can’t be a good idea for a bunch of little girls. What if som-“

You cut him off, “She’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassure him. “I went when I was younger, and I’d hardly call it camp. It’s a bunch of air-conditioned cabins right off the interstate where they do arts and crafts for a week and learn how to start fires with flint.”

He grumbles something unintelligible. Millie smiles to herself across the room, sensing the tension ease.

“Oh!” she jumps up out of her chair. “Let me show you something, dear,” Mildred says as she shuffles over to a bookshelf and grabs an old, worn leather photo album. “Speaking of my dear Donald, let me show you this.”

Mildred brings the photo album with her as she sits on the couch next to Joel, who looks confused about what she’s talking about, having not been present for the earlier conversation.

Mildred waves you over. “Come have a look,” she says, patting the spot next to her on the couch.

Rising from your seat, you join her and Joel on the couch. Mildred in the middle as a nice buffer between the two of you.

She opens the book to display a collage of age-tinted pictures, some with frayed and yellowed edges. The first picture shows a small woman with a tenacious-looking expression, obviously a younger Mildred, and a tall, sturdy-looking man who you assume is her late husband.

You and Joel both lean in to get a better look.

“This was me and my Don right after we moved into this house.”

“Wow, Mildred, you’re a bombshell!” you compliment her.

“I sure used to be,” she agrees, “nothing but a bag of old bones now,” she chuckles.

She flips to the next page; the photo now depicts a younger Mildred in a beautiful satin wedding dress, a long sweeping veil, and some interestingly oversized puffy sleeves that must have been all the fashion back then. Her husband was dressed in a suit with his arms wrapped around her.

“What a dress,” you comment.

“Sure is somethin’,” Joel adds, failing to hide his distaste for the gaudy fashion choices.

“Don’t judge me too harshly; it was all the craze back in my day. This was the day we were married nearly 60 years ago.”

“I’m sure that was an amazing day,” you offer.

“It was, well, for the most part.” Mildred flips the page, showing a picture of the newlywed couple sharing their first dance in a nearly empty reception hall. “Marrying him was one of the best days of my life, no doubt, but we didn’t have that many guests. My parents were dead set against me marrying him.”

“Why?” you ask, intrigued. You see Joel raise an eyebrow across from you, also interested in the story.

“Well, there are many reasons they came up with to try not to like him. He was older, though many people didn’t care about that much back then. His parents came from nothing: seamstresses for a mother and factory worker for a father. My parents raised hell when they found out I was seeing him. They thought their daughter deserved someone in the same tax bracket, like a lawyer or doctor.”

She flips the page again, displaying a picture of her and her husband holding a baby girl, her oldest daughter, you assume.

“When they found out we were engaged, they stopped talking to me, cut off my funds, and tried to blackmail me into leaving him. But they didn’t know the wealth I saw in him,” she continues lovingly. “He was a good man and cared for me like no one else. He laughed with me, cried with me, and fought like hell with me, too, but loved me regardless. I felt the happiest I’d ever been every day I spent with him. They never completely came around; we were always the family's black sheep after that, but it was all worth it.”

“It seems like you made the right decision. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone talk about their spouse that way.” You said, and it was true.

“You two listen up now,” she instructs, nodding to you and Joel. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned all these years, you need to live life for yourself. Don’t give a damn what anybody else has to say. I was shunned by my family and many of my so-called friends, too, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t more important than spending my life with the man I loved. In the beginning, I was scared of the backlash. All the external pressure got to me, and I broke things off with Donald briefly before realizing it was a colossal mistake. We lost precious time together before I came to my senses and ran back to him. I’d give anything to go back and get even just a few days more with him now.”

It was as if Mildred knew what was happening between you and Joel. She didn’t realize just how applicable this conversation was to you.

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting in Mildred's living room.

Joel shares how well his contracting business is going, especially with several new big-time clients in the city practically throwing money at him to take on all their projects.

Before he can get into much detail, Mildred interjects, “And what about Tommy and Maria? Engagement party soon, right? Do they need help organizing?”

“Yes, mam, it is,” Joel replies, “and no, I think Maria is doing a fine job with everything. Tommy is actually pretty excited; he was going on about color schemes and ambiance last week.” Joel chuckles, “Didn’t think I'd see the day he cared about party planning details other than what drinks he’d be bringing, but the boy is in deep with Maria. Several of her friends have agreed to help with setup and hosting, so there's nothing left to do now but wait.”

“ I look forward to it,” Mildred says. “Finally, giving this old bird a chance to dress up and socialize. Your folks coming too?” she says, looking at you now.

“Yeah, we’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Mildred yawns before getting up from the couch to stretch. “I hate to run y'all off, but I think I need a bit of a nap.”

Joel stands, offering his arm to Mildred if she needs help shuffling to the bedroom, but she swats him away.

“Need anything before we go, Millie? What was it you called me over here for anyways?” Joel questions.

“Oh, don’t worry about it; we’ll get to that next time. Can you walk her home for me, dear?”

You protest, “Millie, I live right across the street. I don’t need –“

She cuts you off. “I’m not senile yet, dear; I know that. But he’s going to do what I asked him to anyways, won't you, Joel,” she finishes, giving him a firm look that leaves no room for arguing.

“Yes, Mam.”

Without further discussion, you all say goodbye. With a click of the front door closing behind you, you find yourself alone with Joel.

Not waiting to be led home by him like a child, you begin walking toward your house. Over your shoulder, you call back to him, “You really don’t have to walk me home, Joel.”

“I’m scared of what she will do to me if I don’t,” he jokes before his much longer strides allow him to catch up to you and walk side by side. After a beat of silence, he continues, “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you anyways.”

You cut your eyes in his direction, surprised by his words. “Oh,” you say, “about what?”

He doesn’t look at you; he looks straight ahead as he walks with one hand by his side and the other rubbing the back of his neck, his telltale sign of discomfort.

“’ Bout last night. And uh, about everything, really. I didn’t mean to cause a scene last night; I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Sure, you had been annoyed with him last night, insinuating you were a drunk mess who couldn’t take care of herself. But after you got home and heard his voice on the phone, clearly worried about whether or not you made it home, it chilled the brewing anger you'd had toward him.

“It’s alright. I actually was going to thank you. If today's hangover is an indication of how drunk I was last night, then I get why you would have been worried about how I was getting home. Lucas, got me back safe, no problem.”

“Lucas,” Joel repeats his name, his voice a bit drier than before, and you think you see him roll his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t think you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I don’t know if I trust him.”

A beat of silence follows as the two of you continue to walk. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out Joel’s disdain for Lucas before it clicks. Prom night.

The night that should’ve been the best night of your high school life ended with you in tears over how Lucas treated you. It had left you crying in the arms of Joel Miller, who promised he'd deal with Lucas if he ever bothered you again.

“Oh,” you say, pausing as the memory floods your thoughts. You’re surprised Joel even remembers that from so many years ago.

Your eyes are on the ground, and your face is warm with embarrassment because he clearly remembers that emotional moment.

Joel halts his stride as well, coming to a stop beside you. “The last time I’d heard you say anything about him, it wasn’t good. Then I saw him there, leading you to his truck without your friends. I thought.. well, I couldn’t let you go with him without knowing if you were too drunk or if you were comfortable leaving with him.”

Guilt comes crashing down on you. You’d been so pissed at Joel but hearing things from his point of view, the way things must have looked, and given his background knowledge of Lucas, it all makes sense now.

You finally glance up, meeting his warm brown eyes in the light of day. “I know what It must've looked like. My friends and I had caught up with Lucas earlier in the night, and he seemed to have changed, so I took him up on his offer to drive me home. That’s it.” You let a small smile appear on your face, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Any time.” He smiles back, “I mean it.”

The sincerity in his voice sends another wave of emotion through you. Having been in such a weird place with Joel lately, you’ve forgotten the kind of man he is. He’d always looked out for you, always been there when you didn’t know who else to turn to.

Maybe it clouded your vision and led you to believe you were seeing signs of something more between the two of you when, in reality, it was just wishful thinking.

You've built up one-sided affection and snapped at him the other night outside of your house when the way he’d been acting around you didn’t fit that narrative.

Breaking eye contact, you take a deep breath and exhale. “Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you the other night after dinner. It’s weird being back home. I was a kid when I left, but I’ve come back as an adult. I’ve been away for years and feel like a new person now, but my parents don’t see that. They treat me like they always have like I'm too young and inexperienced to know what's good for me.”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, but you keep going.

“But you’ve never treated me that way; you never made me feel less than, and I guess I got confused and.-“

“Hey,” Joel finally interjects, saving you from rambling into how you may have misconstrued his attention and embarrassed yourself by assuming it was something more.

You feel his palm land on your shoulder, rubbing a soothing thumb back and forth as he steps closer. Despite the heat of the summer sun, chills prickle up your spine.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were right; I was being an asshole. You’re not a kid no more, hell anyone who spends any time with you should know that by now. I don’t know what I was thinking, acting the way I did. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Can we just start over?” You ask. “Be friends again, for real this time?”

“I’d like that.” A smile lifts the edge of his lips and crinkles the skin around his eyes.

You and Joel finally finish the walk back to your house in comfortable silence, where he leaves you at the door.

“Welcome home,” he says in that signature smooth rasp.

“Good to be back,” you answer with a smile, and this time it's true, as you slip inside.

With the air cleared and things between you and Joel back to normal, the weight has been lifted, and you are eager for what's to come this summer.

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scribbledghost · 12 hours

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More Fem!Simon! I know you have said that she is uncomfortable around children. What if reader really wanted to have kids, whether that’s through adoption or physically having them. Like it was her dream to be a parent and raise kids. How do you think Simon would feel and react to that? Is it a hard no for her? I can imagine they would have many conversations to make sure they’re all on the same page.

Ohhhh, I think I may hurt some feelings with this one :(

Honestly, I think it's very, very close to being a hard no for her. Between her upbringing, her job, and the fact that she's quite fond of having her space and quiet, I think she's rather up front about the idea of kids being off the table for her.

She'd likely be blunt about it before you two get romantically involved, just to save everyone the trouble and heartache on down the line. She doesn't want to get involved just to have this conversation months or years later and have it all come crashing down, you know? Because, let's face it, kids aren't exactly something you can really "compromise" on. You either have them, or you don't. So, if we're going by my own canon, it's a hard limit for Simon. She's definitely childfree, and she's very content with that decision.

BUT, since this is fanfic and we can Do What We Want here, let's say there's a secret Third Option where Simon comes around to the idea of adoption. Pregnancy is a hard no on her end, and I think she has a hard time reconciling the idea of a donor or ivf when she knows how many kids just like her when she was little are in the system. But once she's settled down a little, likely either going into the reserves and away from field duty or retired from the military altogether, maybe she'd be okay with fostering/adopting.

I still don't think she'd want to adopt an infant; that's just too much stress for her. Perhaps an older kid, like... 6-7 years old? I think she'd do okay. They can talk and tell her when something's wrong, they can use the bathroom by themselves, they can dress themselves. You get the picture. I think you're absolutely correct in that there's a lot of discussions around this. There's a lot of talk about the way your lives will change, what to expect, that sort of thing.

Granted, fostering or adopting older kids likely comes with having to navigate their own trauma, but Simon's got that sort of thing on lock. She's got plenty of experience (unfortunately). She offers a lot of structure, boundaries, and rules. That doesn't mean she's cruel though; she asks them their opinions on a lot of things, talks to them about what they like and dislike, and adjusts accordingly. It also likely helps that she's never the type to yell or be physical when she's angry, as she refuses to do anything that resembles the way her father used to be.

#ghost scribbles #fem simon #fem reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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bananayuyu · 1 day

Text

Hopeless Desire - Part 2

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: You were Mingi's younger sister by six years, and had a crush on his best friend Yunho since you were nine. You harbored this crush for years, never thinking it would go anywhere. Little did you know, Yunho had recently started to feel the same. But you're his best friend's little sister, so what can he do?

Chapter Summary: Mingi finally finds out, not in the way you intended.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, use of a vibrator, oral (both m and f receiving), some throat fucking, some pet names, more vague mentions of toxic family dynamics, more vague mentions of Mingi having mental health issues, pls lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: Thank you all so much for the feedback on part 1! It means the world to me. This is my first fic that I'm publishing publicly so I am so grateful. I hope you all enjoy <3

All three of you were frozen. Yunho fixed you with a sharp gaze, still clearly confused at your presence. But now you noticed it was changing, his eyes narrowing and head tilting every so slightly in an obvious sign of anger or frustration. You still sat in your chair unmoving; you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze was affecting your body, the way your arms were tingling and your lower stomach fluttering. Anxiety and excitement can feel shockingly similar, sometimes. You couldn't tell which you were feeling.

"Yunho, I-" you begin to explain yourself, but Mingi cuts you off in anger.

"No no, tell me what the hell is going on first," he says, shockingly stern and strong coming from him. The only time Mingi is ever stern is when he's protecting you, or thinks he is. You realize now what he thinks happened, that Yunho has upset or offended or hurt you in some way. He must think Yunho took a joke to far, or, or...

"Mingi, just-" but he cuts you off again, making you feel patronized.

"I thought when you started talking to me earlier that you were finally gonna admit that you two had been dating, but now-"

It's your turn to cut him off now. Yunho's as well.

"What?!" you both say in unison, Yunho's gaze now back to Mingi.

"Oh, so you aren't dating?" Mingi says with exasperation.

"Well, not really, not yet," Yunho stumbles. You put your head in your hands and curl up into a ball, seeing this whole conversation crumbling apart in front of you.

"Not yet? What does that mean? You've obviously upset her, what the hell did you do?!" Mingi's voice is rising in volume, unable to keep his anger under control. Mingi doesn't get angry often, but when he does it can consume him in an instant.

"Mingi, let me explain-"

"You probably told her you loved her just to sleep with her or something-"

"Mingi, I haven't slept with her! Calm down!" Yunho has raised his voice now too. At this admission you shoot him a hurt look, not understanding why he'd lie. Just because he hasn't put his dick in you doesn't mean you haven't had sex. You thought he was someone who understood that.

"You haven't?" Mingi asks, seeing the look you gave Yunho.

"Well, not technically-" but Yunho is cut off by Mingi lunging for him, slamming him against his front door and slamming the door shut in the process. The loud bang is awful and makes you jump, hands jumping to your ears a the painful sound. You start to feel panicked, your heart racing much faster now. Mingi has Yunho pinned to the door by his shoulders, but Yunho managed to get an arm up in time to have some leverage against Mingi's own chest. The two struggle against each other, Yunho at a disadvantage being stuck to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your eyes filling with tears, your hands stuck to the sides of your head. You aren't even looking at them, as if not looking will mean this isn't happening. He knows how much you hate when people fight. It was something that happened with your parents and other members of your family far too often when you were growing up.

"Don't do this shit in front of y/n!" Yunho yells at Mingi. "You're just upsetting her, you have no idea-"

"You just fucking lied to me!" Mingi screams back. "What the fuck does 'not technically' mean?!" He pushes harder into Yunho now, trying to push free the one bit of leverage Yunho has. Both of them are tall but Mingi has obvious strength on Yunho, and you see Yunho's eyes widen in fear and pain, Mingi's superior strength terrifying now that it's turned on him. You see his mind working quickly, trying to formulate a plan. His eyes meet yours and they've changed again, this time begging you for help. He looks away quickly but the message was unmistakeable.

"Mingi!" you call, the momentary distraction giving Yunho just enough time to duck below Mingi's arms and shove his torso away to allow him the space to escape. But Mingi doesn't stay distracted for long and jumps on Yunho again, tackling him to the ground this time. The two tussle and grapple and you look away again, unable to watch as they hurt themselves over this argument. You imagine tomorrow morning, the broken fingers or bruises or damaged furniture that has to be repaired. The explanation of the situation to managers, to the members. You want to yell at them to stop, to not hurt themselves, but you can't bring yourself to. You know it won't put a stop to anything.

"Mingi. Mingi just stop," you finally hear, the sounds of their brawl having died down. You glance over carefully, as if about to look at the scene of a bloody crime. But you're only met with Yunho on top of Mingi, pinning his arms to his chest and not letting him move. Neither one looks injured, at least from where you sit some feet away.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you if you hurt her," Mingi says, still struggling under Yunho, but only half-heartedly, clearly understanding he's stuck.

"Mingi, almost nothing has happened between me and y/n. If you had let us speak earlier you would have heard that."

"So you haven't been dating for like the past year?" Mingi asks, and it sounds genuine.

"No. Did you think we were? And we just hadn't said anything?" Yunho says this like he's hurt by the accusation, but you can also read a bit of guilt in his tone. Because some things have happened, and Mingi still doesn't know.

"We all did," Mingi replies.

"We?"

"The members."

"And none of you ever asked me about it? You just talked about it behind our backs?"

"It's not like we talked about it at length or anything. It was just something we all collectively thought." Mingi pauses a moment and Yunho sighs, clearly upset by this revelation. "You guys are like all over each other all the time when she's over, what were we supposed to think?"

You watch their conversation from you chair still, your anxiety and frustration bubbling over. You decide you can't take it anymore. You get up and walk quickly to the front door, trying to hold in your tears and make no sound. As you open the door they both call your name, but you don't care to turn around now. Stepping into the hallway you let the tears run down your cheeks, slumping down to sit with your back against the wall. You don't sob, you barely make a sound. You just breathe deeply and let the tears flow, letting yourself check out for a bit.

The door opens a few minutes later and Yunho emerges, moving slowly. He closes the door and looks at you for a moment, wanting to hug and kiss you and make your tears go away. He breaths in to steady himself, about to say something. But you speak first.

"I need to talk to my brother," you say. He just nods and moves back inside, knowing you don't want to move. Mingi steps out a few moments later, coming to sit down next to you.

"Yunho told me what's happened," he starts. "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

"Yes, yes it was," you sigh. "I wish I said it sooner, so all that shit didn't happen."

"I'm sorry, but I thought he had hurt you or something. I just..." Mingi is talking self consciously, back to his more normal self.

"You know how much I hate when people fight around me," you say.

"I know." Mingi's heart twinges with guilt. And shame too, because he knows to whom you are really referring when you say 'people.' It's one person in particular, a man that Mingi doesn't want to be like in any way. "You seemed upset though, you looked at him like you were so upset. Are you sure he didn't hurt you?"

"Mingi, the thing he was doing that was upsetting me was how hesitant he was being with me. We both finally figured out we like each other only like days ago. But he still was keeping his distance from me sometimes. When I finally talked to him he said it was because he was worried what you would think, and what the members would think. He said he had to talk to you first. But then I realized I should really be the one to talk to you first. So I came over here to do that. And then I waited, and I waited, cause I was so nervous. I'm sorry this is happening, but no Yunho has not hurt me." You look at him with frustration. "Do you really think he'd do that?" you ask.

"No, but you never know what people are capable of. I have to protect you if I can," he says.

"Mingi, I protect you," you say.

"Too much. You're my younger sister, I should be protecting you more." Tears were forming in Mingi's eyes and neither of you realized, so suddenly tears are streaming down his cheeks. You move over and give him a hug, tears forming in your eyes too. You sit like that for a moment, you both mumbling 'I'm sorry' to each other. The hug is cathartic for you both.

"Mingi, Yunho and I both like each other. Is it gonna be a problem if we date?" you ask. Mingi shakes his head, but you can sense trepidation.

"I just really hope you don't break up and then things are tense between you. I hope you're really considering that possibility."

"Of course we are," you say without hesitation. And then you sit and think for a moment, realizing maybe you haven't. You take the moment to do some reflecting, to just sit and think on it. It hits you suddenly. "I think I've loved him since I was nine," you admit.

Little did you know, Yunho over heard this last part. He was just coming to check on you two and had just put his hand on the door. He paused, warmth swelling in his chest, and turned back.

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

After you reconciled with Mingi the boys had their own talk, also making up. You could tell Mingi was still feeling on edge and you understood he would need time to process the news. But really, it was good news mostly. He thought you both had been hiding this from him for months. In reality, it had only been a few days.

You left the apartment after hugging them both, the emotional turmoil of the evening exhausting you. You still couldn't believe that they actually fought and you feel mad. But you also feel relieved that Mingi finally knew everything. You walked slowly down the hallway, standing patiently at the elevator door.

Then Yunho was jogging down the hall, seeing the elevator open and determining he could make it. At the last moment he snuck in surprising you, a little out of breath. Suddenly the two of you were in this small isolated space, and the air felt electric. You remembered now how he looked when he looked mad, how your insides churned when he stuck his glare on you. You look at him now, his face serene, like usual. You loved how sweet he was. But you also liked that angry side, too. You feel so embarrassed for feeling this way, knowing damn well how destructive and dysfunctional it can be for a man's only show of emotion to be anger. But you couldn't help loving how it looked on him. You wanted him to be angry again, angry at you.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, moving over to your side of the elevator to wrap his arms around you.

"Wow, so smooth," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Oh, you've heard that one before? Didn't realize you got around so much," he teased. You lightly hit him in the ribs, knowing how sensitive the area was. You look up at his grimacing face and you laugh, relieved to finally be joking around again. You realize the elevator is almost to ground floor so you pull on his shirt to kiss him, relishing the few moments of privacy you two still have left. As the elevator opens you both part and begin walking out the front doors, keeping a consistent and almost tangible amount of space between you. The tension in the air is severe; you think if someone walked between you they might get electrocuted.

"You never answered my question," you says as you exit the building.

"I have to study tonight," you say, turning to him. "I have important things to do." He rolls his eyes slightly, but you can tell he's a little disappointed. "I'm sorry, I really do have some reading I need to get done tonight. I can't."

"You don't think you'll have any trouble focusing?" he asks, smirking.

"Trouble focusing?" you ask, exaggerating your confusion. "I think I'll be just fine, thank you." You go to give him a quick hug goodbye but instead playfully smack him, earning yet another pinch on your waist. You squeal and turn away, determined not to change your mind. You really should spend some time studying, and you really do feel like you need some alone time. But mostly, you hope that if you wait a few days to see him again that Yunho might be pent up enough to get a little angry.

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

Three days passed.

Sometimes life gets really busy for a few days; sometimes responsibilities require your attention 24/7. These days were like that. You had forgotten you had to be at work more days than usual this week, due to the elementary and middle school kids you tutored having their standardized mid-semester exams. For three days after classes you spent nearly your entire evening with them, trying to calm their nerves and help them learn. You liked your job, for the most part. It was why you had stayed for several years. But those three days were a bit trying. Talking down young kids from bouts of anxiety took it out of you.

This all meant that to Yunho, it seemed like you were keeping your distance. He and Mingi had filming for a music video those three days, but whenever he tried to call you didn't answer, and your texts came back slower than usual. The last day he got to come home early but when he asked you to hang out you said you had work. He swore you didn't usually work that day. He thought you were the hesitant one now. He felt a little hurt but also not sure if he was even reading things correctly. He realized he really, really cared what you thought of him. It was a scary realization.

Finally your weekend came and you had a day entirely to yourself. Realistically you hadn't been wanting to keep your distance from him for three days, even if you had thought you'd give it a try. You longed to be spending the evenings with him when you were at work with the worried kids. You worried you were coming off poorly now, like you didn't really care. You kept saying sorry for missing a call or not texting back for hours on end. It was just one of those times. It just happens every once in a while. But finally it was over.

"Y/n," Yunho answers your call. His voice is bright but there's a layer of annoyance in his tone. You'd by lying if you said it didn't excite you a little.

"Hi, are you busy today? I finally have a day off," you say.

"Are you saying you want to hang out with me?"

"Yes, Yunho. Duh."

"Well, I'm just asking cause yesterday you didn't want to."

"What do you mean, I had work!" you say.

"You don't work on Fridays though," he says. He sounds almost hurt, but he's still in a joking mood.

"I had to work extra cause of elementary and middle school exams. They're next week."

"Oh, so you weren't lying then."

"Yunho!" You can't believe he's accusing you of this. "I wouldn't lie and say I had work when I didn't have work, who do you think I am?"

"So you weren't trying to piss me off so I'd come to your house one night and throw rocks at your window or something?"

"Yunho, you're insane," you reply.

"You didn't answer my question," he says.

"I'm not going to."

"Alright, fine," he says. And then, "I'll be over in a minute."

"Okay," you say, and slump back down on your bed, unbelievably excited.

It was early in the afternoon. You had slept in and then eaten a large breakfast, hungry and exhausted from your extremely busy week. You finished a load of laundry you desperately needed to do and managed to clean up your bathroom a little. Finishing these small chores made you feel good. Now you finally had time to do whatever you wanted the rest of the day.

Yunho arrived quickly, not caring if he seemed desperate. He was desperate, desperate to see you and hold you after your three exhausting days. You felt the butterflies as soon as your call ended, and now with him standing in front of you your skin felt on fire. Your knees felt shaky, your heart rate shooting through the roof. You almost felt nauseous from how excited you were. You hoped it didn't seem weird. He stepped in a hugged you, pulling your head to his chest. And then you heard his heart beat and felt it too, how blazingly fast it was beating. You felt the jittering of his nerves, the way his skin felt hot as fire when you brushed a hand over his arm. You squeezed him tighter; it felt like the only way to alleviate your nerves. As you pressed into him you felt how taught his muscles were, how rapid his breathing. Finally, you felt what must be his cock pushing against your hip. Hard already, very hard. Your breath hitched. Your roommates were in the living room setting up a movie, but Tae had just walked in.

"Hey, Yunho, how are you?" Tae asked, kind as ever. You felt Yunho jump slightly at his voice. His eyes had been closed upon realizing just how excited he was to see you. He was mid trying to find a way to calm himself when Tae walked in.

"I'm good, thank you. How have you been?" he asked. Surprisingly steady, you thought. You felt him releasing your hug and moving you away from him slightly, and momentarily you were immensely confused. But then he spun you around and put his arms around your shoulders, still needing your body in front of his to cover a potentially noticeable bulge that was forming in his pants. Tae wouldn't say anything, wouldn't care. You knew that. But he didn't.

"I'm good too, just busy with my thesis. Are you sure you're okay, you look a little pale?" Tae asked, genuinely oblivious to what was happening.

"I honestly just really have to pee," Yunho says with a chuckle, and all of you chuckle with him. "Can I use your bathroom, y/n?"

Clever, you think. Don't know if I would have thought of that.

"No, absolutely not. No peeing in this house," you joke. Yunho sees this as an opportunity as well; he figured you might say something along those lines. He begins tickling you which has you shrieking and running away towards the hallway and saying, "okay, okay", and he sprints after you, able to leave the kitchen in a rush in a way that doesn't appear suspicious.

As soon as you enter your bedroom and close the door, you cannot stop giggling. Yunho goes to tickle you again but you fight back, attempting to tickle him too. It doesn't work very well, given how much longer his arms are. Soon he's grabbed you and hits that spot under your arm that tickles the most, so you collapse to the floor. He supports your weight so you don't fall, but now you're pinned to the ground and totally at his mercy. "Stop, stop" you keep giggling, kicking your feet in an attempt to hit him where it hurts most. "Yunhooooo" you finally whine, the giggles subsiding, and he knows you're truly done. He used to tickle you a lot more when you were little, after Mingi revealed how much it made you laugh. He hadn't done it in a while, not like that. A flash of nostalgia hits him, realizing how much time has passed. How he missed those days sometimes, before there was so much pressure. When you were little he could baby you and take care of you however much he wanted when you were together. Now he stares down at a full grown adult, and the thought of his own age hits him. How much time has passed. He longs for the old times again, sometimes. When you were only ten and sweet as can be. Growing up, dealing with your family, it had changed you some. It hurt him to think of all that weighed on you, all the responsibility you took on so young. He sometimes wished he could go back.

But then there were times like this when he was so glad for the change. He had probably liked you longer than he ever would admit to anyone, given your age. He never really considered the truth of it a few years ago, because of how shameful it felt to like someone so young. It wasn't like he ever felt that way about other high school girls, so he told himself his feelings were just born from how much he loved and cared about you. But he couldn't deny it now, looking down at you, his dick still rock hard in his pants and his eyes unable to leave you. He couldn't deny how the print of your nipples through your thin shirt made him salivate, how the curve of your waist into your hips, the curve of your belly was what he thought of each night when he touched himself to sleep. And that cute pout, that pout that made everyone melt a little bit. Now when you turned it on him it just made him want to give you everything, to make you come over and over again.

Just as he is about to lean down to kiss you, a knock sounds from your door.

"Y/n, that movie you wanted to watch is on Netflix, if you still want to!" Nari says from the hallway. "I'll be in the living room, just let me know, no pressure." She walks away, not wanting to disturb you two.

Yunho leans down again, in an instant having forgotten what Nari said. But then you remember your thoughts from three days ago, about maybe pissing Yunho off, just a little.

"We should watch it, it's really good," you say. All you get is a 'hmm' in response. Yunho kisses you now, slow and sensual and like he wants to do more. You can tell where it's headed, and your pussy isn't opposed. But you want to see if you can resist, just this once. "Yunho," you say. He looks at you, eyes almost glazed over with lust. This is gonna be a hard sell, you think. So you give him that pout. You haven't used it intentionally in a while, but you used to all the time when you were kids. To get him to buy you ice cream, or get him to make a phone call for you that you were dreading. Even once to talk to a teacher for you. It was always effective then.

And it's effective now, too. Of course it is.

"What?" he asks, pulled back slightly, just wanting to give you whatever you want.

"I wanna watch the movie, I'm sorry," you say.

"No no, no apologizing. We will do whatever you want," he says. "I'm sorry for jumping on you. I just couldn't resist." You start giggling again.

"It's okay, I liked it," you say.

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

The movie is so good that you are at times distracted from the ever present bulge you can feel pressing against your ass. With Yunho's arms wrapped around you, you feel almost sleepy, so unbelievably comfortable. Maybe this extreme sense of comfort made you act so bratty. You weren't really sure where it came from. When Yunho offered you popcorn you refused, asking instead if you could have the corn chips you kept in the kitchen pantry. When Yunho told you the way you were sitting was putting his leg to sleep you whined and complained about having to move. Then when he relaxed his arms away, worried he was overwhelming you by holding you so close, you forcefully grabbed them and put them around you again. By the time the movie ended he was fairly lost, not sure why you were acting that way. He was pretty sure you didn't even like corn chips.

The two of you made your way back to your room, Yunho walking slowly in trepidation. He really, really wasn't sure. He felt like there was something you weren't telling him. Maybe she just needs a little more time, he thought.

"Do you want me to get going?" he asked you.

"What?" you asked in return, wide-eyed.

"You seem, I don't know," he stops himself. "You like corn chips now?" He feels it's a reasonable question to ask. You try to keep a smile from forming on your face. You should have known how easily he'd see through you.

"Yeah," you say, awkwardly. You don't know what else to say.

"You didn't even eat any after I went and got them for you," he says.

You stand silently, not sure where to go from here. Usually playing around and messing with him feels so fun. But this is feeling a little weird now. It wasn't authentic, and he knows it. You start to feel a bit bad, and think you should just tell him what you want. But that feels daunting too. You just stare at him, unable to speak, unsure of what to say.

Yunho moves closer to you, seeing that pout forming again, seeing your brain work overtime. He runs a hand through your hair and settles his hand at the nape of your neck. He stares deeply into your eyes, capturing the entirety of your attention. In a low voice, he speaks deliberately.

"Baby, what do you want?"

You blush at his words and smile, closing your eyes to savor the way his voice sounds. You feel an intoxicating mix of guilt and excitement bubbling in your stomach, but you can't bring yourself to speak. Your throat is tight and all you can do is let out a whine.

"Use your words. Tell me."

It feels like he is commanding you now. You feel like you might lift off the ground, like he is made of magic and could make you levitate if he wanted to. Your throat suddenly lets you speak, lets you get enough of a breath to get it out.

"I want you to do whatever you want to me," you say, your voice barely audible. But Yunho holds onto every syllable, like you've yelled it at him through a megaphone. He pulls your face up to his, his lips devouring yours, leaving nearly no room for you to breathe. He's grabbing you intensely, a hand firmly set on one of your ass cheeks and grabbing roughly at it.

"Do you want me mad, is that it?" he asks, his voice still low and even. He doesn't feel out of control by any means, but you can tell you've elicited some pent up frustration. All you do is giggle, so happy that your plan has worked.

"Get on your bed, and take off your clothes," he commands, not wanting to wait any longer. He's had this idea since he was here last; at that time it felt like something he should approach slowly, and ask you first. But now he realizes it's probably the sort of thing you want. After pulling off his shirt and pants he makes his way for your bedside table. As you remove your panties you see him opening the top drawer, pulling out a small pink wand that you have stashed there. Your heart nearly drops at the sight of it, the way it looks almost small in his hand, the way he so confidently went for it.

"Yunho!" you say, in shock. "How..."

"I accidentally saw it last time I was here, baby. I can't stop thinking about you using it on yourself. You probably use it every night don't you? When I'm not here to make you come?"

Your blushing again but this time you look rather embarrassed, your arms wrapped around your chest to cover yourself. Still, you undressed as he said. It's as if you can't disobey him in this state. You've never felt like this before with anyone. Like you don't have a care in the world, like your brain has turned off almost entirely except for the parts necessary for survival. Like you know Yunho will take care of you, no matter what happens.

Yunho can sense this shift in your mind, but sees you covering yourself and has to check.

"Are you okay?" he asks, almost sternly. You know it's because he needs to know, for his own sanity.

"Please don't stop," you say as you nod, voice breathy and needy, arms still covering yourself. Your waiting for him to say it, waiting, waiting-

"Stop covering yourself." Finally. You take your arms down, almost presenting your chest to him. His breath hitches slightly, but you can't see it. His face remains neutral; he feels oddly at home being in control of you like this.

"Lay down," he says. Then, "spread your legs, let me see you." He moves down to you, hands running up and down your legs. But his eyes won't leave your pussy. He moves his face closer, now kissing and biting into your inner thighs, relishing how soft they feel against his cheek. Now he can smell you slightly, the sweet and musky scent making him feel almost drunk. He wasn't planning on it but he can't resist, and moves his face down to get a taste of you. He moves his tongue up your pussy slowly, savoring the warmth and sweetness. He settles himself down and wraps his hands around your thighs and you can't stop staring at his hands, long and veiny in the heat of the room. He licks you slowly again, then settles at the top, brushing gentle circles over your clit. Your body reacts instantly, your back arching and your head falling back, your legs moving in and surrounding his head. He can tell your clit is really sensitive, and doesn't want to overwhelm you at first. He pulls back and licks even more gently, slowly pushing your legs back down so you are completely spread for him. You feel his warm tongue stroking back and forth, his gentle movements causing such intense feelings. You sigh and relax into the feeling, your eyes closed and mind on another planet. It takes a little while for your body to completely give in and Yunho can tell, but he doesn't mind taking the time. He likes the idea that this might take a while. He could spend hours between your legs, tasting you and making you moan.

Suddenly you feel close, each stroke of his tongue sending sparks through you, and then you're coming undone, your whole body feeling warm and tingly. Yunho's tongue is unrelenting and soon feels like too much, so you grab onto his hair and pull at him slightly. He pulls up his face and you see his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark as they meet yours. He moves up to kiss you, wanting you to taste yourself. The kiss is sweet but intense, Yunho grabbing onto your waist to hold you as close to him as he can.

"I'm sorry I took forever," you say between kisses, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Don't ever apologize about that," he says, kissing you again, holding you tight. You know he says it to be kind, but in this context it also feels like another command, so you vow to never do it again.

Yunho rises, moving down and spreading your legs again to see you, see how puffy and pink your pussy looks. It makes him salivate and he wants to dive back in immediately, but then he remembers his original plan and grabs the wand he had dropped on your bed. He moves down between your legs again, then slowly strokes his fingers through your slit, careful not to shock you with his touch. "Relax, baby," he says in a whisper, the depth of his voice reaching into your bones. You do as he says and open your eyes, smiling at him as he starts to stroke you again, covering his fingers in your slick and then moving them down into position. He slowly pushes two into you, and after a few slow strokes adds a third. You feel yourself stretch a bit to accommodate the added finger, the feeling only briefly painful and then entirely perfect. Your head is thrown back again and this time you wish you could open your legs even wider, wish you could take more of him. He starts pumping in and out of you consistently, waiting until you start opening up even more. Once he feels your walls relax just that little bit more he picks up the wand, turning it on to its lowest setting. You inhale sharply, nervous at how intense it will feel. "It's okay," he says. "We'll stop if it doesn't feel good." But your anxiety was for nothing; as he presses the wand down onto your clit you feel immediate white hot pleasure, the feeling more intense that you've ever known. With both his fingers inside you and the wand on your clit your orgasm builds quickly; as you feel yourself about fall over the edge it builds even more, and then it happens a second time. You feel like your pussy is on fire, like you are a dam about to break. "Yunho, yunho," you squeak out, your brain having completely left you, but something in you wanting him to know how good he's making you feel. But he can tell anyway, from the way your squirm and open yourself even wider for him, by the sounds you are making. You come hard, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking uncontrollably. A bit of droll leaks out of your mouth onto your pillow without you noticing, the feelings enveloping you too intense for you to register literally anything else. A small and quick burst of fluid leaves your pussy and covers Yunho's arm. "Good girl," he says earnestly, sure he just made you squirt.

When you finally come down from your high you can't stop talking. You crawl over to him and wrap around him, feeling suddenly so excited. "That felt so good," you say, nuzzling your head into his neck. "I've never come that hard ever, I don't think."

"Good," Yunho says, placing a satisfied kiss on your temple. "I want you to feel good." You smile up at him, scrunching up your face in happiness.

"You always make me feel good, even when we're just hanging out," you say. Yunho wraps you up in his arms, his heart not able to handle your sweetness.

"You're too sweet for this world," he says. You nuzzle into his chest at his words, so happy to be praised.

You settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, your breathing finally returned to normal. You hug Yunho, feeling his breaths rising and falling. And then he breathes in like he's about to say something.

"I want to make you come again," he says.

"I don't know if I can, after that..." you trail off, quietly laughing at yourself.

"I think you can," he says, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Get on your hands and knees."

You do as he says, arranging yourself near the top of your bed to give him room behind you. You arch your back and stick your butt out towards him, and when he taps on one of your knees you spread them apart further. "Good girl," he says again, and you can feel your pussy clench, your wetness feeling cool against the air. He slowly enters his three fingers into you again, your pussy now so wet that they slide in easily. At this angle he can reach so deeply inside you, and it feels like his fingers might be feet long. You feel his movements in your whole abdomen and it's intoxicating, and suddenly you really wish it was his cock inside you, reaching deeper than even his fingers can, splitting you open with forceful thrusts. He reaches towards your shoulders to push them down, flattening your chest and face against your bed with your ass still in the air. Once he has you exactly where he wants you he goes for the wand again, this time switching it onto a slightly higher setting, determined to make you come again. As soon as it makes contact you are again met with white hot pleasure, the intensity of it still surprising you, the multiple points of stimulation making you feel small and submissive. He increases the intensity of his fingers, pumping them into you faster and putting even more pressure on that spot you love so much. Soon you are screaming into your pillow, and Yunho is thankful you are coving your mouth yourself. He would, if he had a free hand to do so. Soon he feels your pussy twitching around his fingers, and then you are clamping down on him so hard, your legs shaking so hard and your body slumping down slowly, unable to hold itself up in your challenging position anymore. Yunho slowly removes the wand and turns it off, then slowly removes his fingers, licking them to again savor the taste of you. You lay slumped in an almost concerning way, so Yunho leans over and moves your hair out of your face to see a blissful smile and blush red cheeks.

He moves to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, coming back to wipe of your thighs and ass and make you feel clean. His movements feel so comforting, you wish you could live in this moment forever. Once he finishes he goes back to wash off his own hands. You flip yourself over, grabbing your favorite plushy and trying to collect yourself. Sweat has stuck your hair to your forehead and cheek, and you feel like you must look ridiculous. You're still a shaking mess lying naked on your bed, your chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. As he exits your bathroom you look over at Yunho in just his boxers and see how hard he is, his considerable length highly visible. All this time he pleasured you, never asking for anything in return. But you wanted him to. You wanted him to use you, however he pleased. He had given you too much not to get something in return.

"Please, can I suck your cock?" you ask him, the words coming out more as begging than you intended. Yunho is caught off guard, his hand running through his hair halting, his eyes meeting yours.

"Baby.." he trails off, the image of your beautiful lips wrapped around him sending sparks through him. He's deliberately held off seeking his own pleasure from you. He's deliberately avoided getting his dick involved. He doesn't know why, really, but he holds it over himself like some sort of rule. Maybe it's a slight punishment. Maybe he doesn't want to scare you. He's bigger than average and doesn't ever want to hurt you, just because you are so eager.

"Please," you say again, more exasperated. "Please Yunho, I really want to. But only if you want to, of course."

Your words have him questioning his own rule. He realizes his own worry, his own nature of holding back. Why should he with you?

"Okay, come here," he says, helping you sit up and then move off your bed, bringing you over to your bedroom door and sitting you on your knees with your back supported. He's brushing hair out of your face and then leaning down to kiss you again, wanting you to know how much he cares. How he worries. How he needs you to be alright for his own peace of mind. As soon as he pulls away you are reaching for his boxers, pulling them down and watching as his cock springs free, the length and girth of it taking you by surprise. You knew he was big, you could tell from looking at his crotch more times than you were proud of. But seeing it up close was something different. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, your body craving to be filled.

You lean forward and lick his tip, grabbing the base of his shaft with your hand to help guide you. You wrap your lips around it and suck, gently at first and then harder, a feeling of pride swelling in you as you hear him lowly groan. Yunho can't believe this is happening, can't believe he is finally getting to feel the warmth of your sweet mouth on his cock. He is rock hard now, desperate for the pleasure and release he had given you over and over again. You pop your mouth off to lick a stripe up the base of his shaft, coming up to the bottom of his head and tasting the saltiness of a bead of precum that had escaped him. You now settle into a rhythm, moving you mouth as far down on him as you can so he's covered in your spit, using your hand and mouth in tandem to illicit as much pleasure as you can. Yunho is holding himself up by the door behind you, desperately wanting to fuck your mouth, the feeling of your hot tongue on him like nothing he's ever experienced. His right hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face again, so he can see everything, your mouth stuffed full of him and your eyes fluttering open and shut as you bob your head back and forth.

Yunho can't help himself, the pleasure is too great, and suddenly he finds himself thrusting slightly, the tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He's alarmed at his own aggression and pulls back, expecting you to be alarmed too. But instead you pop off of him, and with lust filled eyes look up. "You can fuck my mouth if you want, you know. I'd really like that," you say, in lustful sincerity. Your voice when you're fucked-out is quiet but assured, your mind focused on one thing only. It makes Yunho feel like he could come on the spot. He runs a thumb across your lips and cheeks. "Baby, are you sure?" he asks. You nod. "I promise I'll be very gentle," he says, moving his cock towards your lips again. "You don't have to be," you say right before it enters your mouth again. Your words make Yunho's head spin, and he shakes his head involuntarily, out of disbelief.

He enters your mouth slowly, his large hand holding the back of your head to support you. He starts with shallow thrusts, feeling the warmth and wetness of your tongue along the underside of him, the feeling blissful and enthralling. You are looking up at him, eyes wide and full of excitement, your mind barely able to comprehend that this is really happening. You have imagined this moment many, many times. He thrusts become slightly deeper, his tip reaching almost to the back of your throat now. You breathe through your nose, keeping your mouth as open for him as you can. Finally he hits the back of your throat and moans, causing you to gag and a single tear to form in your left eye. "You okay?" he asks gently, pulling back slightly to let you recover. But you don't want him to stop so you suck on his tip and nod your head up and down, still making eye contact with him. His head falls back at the sight, you nodding at him with his cock still in your mouth. You move forward and gag yourself on him, then lean back slightly and look at look at him with pleading eyes. He takes the hint, moving forward again and finally fucking your mouth in earnest. His thrusts are controlled and deliberate, their speed picking up slowly and consistently. He loves the warmth of your mouth, the tightness of your throat squeezing his tip, the feeling better than anything he could have imagined. He was already so wound up from making you come so much, he's not going to last long. You can feel it, can sense in the way his breathing changes and his body changes, like he's filling with pressure and it needs to be released. Suddenly he's pulling out of you and coming on your face, your open mouth catching some of it. You savor the taste and swallow, licking your lips to find more. He watches the lewd image in front of him and feels like the wind has been knocked from him. And then, as he comes down fully, the feeling like he's done too much hits him.

"Sorry baby, let me go get a towel," he says. You whine, grabbing onto his arm to pull him down, not wanting him to leave just yet. You want him to see the beautiful mess he's made up close. Once he's at eye level you smile, batting your eyes at him. "Oh, so you like that I made a mess of you?" he says, another shake of his head from disbelief. "You are so naughty..." he says, clearly pleased. You giggle and stick your tongue out at him. "You can clean me up now," you say, eyes expectant.

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

Later that night the two of you lay in your bed, your head on Yunho's shoulder and your legs intertwined with his. The events of the day had left you both sleepy, the feeling enveloping you quickly after you finished your dinner. After some begging Yunho helped you get ready for bed, helping you brush your teeth and get undressed. You felt so hazy you thought you'd fall asleep as soon as you laid down. But once you were settled under the covers with him your mind started wandering, and you were unable to put a stop to it.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask him.

"Of course," Yunho says, through a yawn.

"You know the day you showed up to Mingi's and I was already there, when we both were gonna tell him about us, were you mad at me?"

"No, I wouldn't say mad," Yunho starts. He sighs. "I was just really confused. I had told you earlier I was going to go talk to him, and I thought you would have told me if you were planning to go tell him before me. I thought I was going to be the one to break it to him, the one to bear the brunt of it. I though it would be best because I'm the one he'd probably be mad it, not you. I felt like you telling him first would make him... even more mad at me, I guess?"

You pause for a moment, guilt sinking into your chest painfully.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to tell him," you say. "I was just really focused that day on the fact that I should tell him first. He's my brother, I felt like I should be the one to do it."

"It's okay," he responds, hugging you tighter. "I"m sorry about what happened that day, that wasn't okay."

"It was Mingi's fault," you say.

"It wouldn't have happened if I just told him sooner that I liked you."

"I could have told him earlier too," you say.

"Baby, stop. You don't need to take responsibility for that mess," Yunho says, comfortingly stroking your cheek. He sighs more deeply now, feeling his own twinges of guilt. "I don't say this to make you feel like I think you're immature or irresponsible, but I think you should know how I truly feel. Given your age and your inexperience, I feel like I need to take responsibility here. I should have approached this whole situation with more care. I should have spoken to Mingi about it sooner, even if I was worried it might mess up our friendship. I should have talked to you directly about how I felt, before I let you sleep over and kissed you and..." he trails off, but you know what he meant to say.

"Before you made me come?" you finish for him. "Can you not even say it out loud now?" you ask, giggling.

"I guess not," he says, embarrassment making his cheeks warm.

"Do you feel like you have to be really careful with me, otherwise I might push you away?" you ask.

"I feel like I have to be careful with you because it's the right thing to do," he answers.

"Is that why you haven't put your dick in me yet?" you ask, the darkness of night making it easy for the words to escape you. Yunho sucks in a sudden breath at your words, at how crass and direct you're being.

"Y/n..." he trails off, and you feel the tenseness of his body.

"Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?"

"I just really wasn't expect that," he says, collecting himself. In truth your directness turns him on, but he feels a sort of shame about it. "To me you are a very pure person, very good-hearted. Not exactly innocent, given all that you've experienced. But I don't want your first time to be rushed or bad. I realize we've already had sex but... I don't know, it's fucking illogical, I know, but I wanted to wait to do that."

"Yunho, I've already had my first time," you admit, thinking back and cringing at remembering Kim Wonsik, the boy you dated for two months during your final year of high school. He certainly didn't take his time when it came to putting his dick in you. It wasn't the worst first-time experience ever; you had heard several horror stories from other girls in your grade. But it wasn't exactly good, either. You hadn't told almost anyone about the relationship, only Mingi after the whole thing was over. It hadn't been something you wanted to share. You knew the news spread quickly through your school, as every little bit of gossip always did. But to tell Yunho or any of the boys felt so daunting. You felt embarrassed by it at the time; you were questioning your sexuality and scared of anyone knowing, anyone asking questions or pressing too hard. You had liked Wonsik, but not really the way you knew you should. You were just tired of never experiencing anything, and when the opportunity presented itself you decided to try. It was over and done with quickly, and Wonsik never spoke to you again. It all felt embarrassingly clunky and messy, in comparison to everything else in your life. Things like that were easy for you to keep from people, especially at that age when you still lived with your parents and only really thought of how quickly you could move out.

"Oh, I didn't realize," Yunho responds, his head spinning a bit. He would be lying if hearing that didn't elicit some feeling of jealousy from him, but he holds himself back from saying anything that would betray that feeling to you. He knows it's a little hypocritical to feel that way, given that he's been with two girls before you.

"I've dated one boy, and one girl," you admit, everything now just spilling out of you. "I hope that's not an issue for you."

"Of course not baby, not at all," he says, pulling you up so you're laying on top of him. You sigh from relief, letting your body completely relax on top of his.

"You've dated before, right?" you ask. You remember a girl from years ago, maybe even from before the boys debuted. You can't remember the timing exactly, but you vaguely remember a panicked Yunho breaking up with her, knowing that in his early years after debuting things just wouldn't be able to work.

"Yes, there was one girl I dated right before we debuted. And then there was a girl like four years ago now. We dated for a year."

"Are you still in contact with her?" you ask, a little shocked at how long the relationship was and the fact that you never heard of her before. Well, Yunho never knew of your two relationships either, you realize.

"No, things became very tense between us. She never even met any of the members, or my family. We were both very busy, and she struggled with me being an idol and how much I travelled and was gone. It went on longer than it should have, and by the time it ended we weren't on very good terms. I think she ended up moving back to Japan after we broke up, cause her family was from there. I'm not really sure, to be honest. But I haven't spoken to her since then."

"That sounds rough," you say, not sure how else to respond.

"I definitely don't want to repeat that again," he says, squeezing you. "Please tell me if I'm making your life harder. I really, really don't want to do that."

"I promise I would if it ever came to that. But you make my life better and always have, I can't foresee that happening," you say.

"It's hard to know what might happen," he says, wanting to get everything out in the open. "I certainly hope it never comes to that. But if it does, you better tell me."

"Okay, I promise," you say, trying hard not to sound as sarcastic. But he conversation was feeling too serious; you couldn't help how the words slipped out, your mind wishing to ease the intensity of things.

"Are you not taking me seriously?" he asks, moving his hands now to your most ticklish spots.

"No no, I am. I promise," you say, giggling into his shoulder and moving our hands to protect yourself.

"There's something else we need to talk about, too," he says.

"What?"

"If you want me to 'do whatever I want to you,' then we need to talk about it. So I can actually keep you safe." You giggle at his immediate change of subject, him repeating your words from earlier.

"What do we need to talk about?"

"I need to know what stuff is off-limits for you, so I can make sure I don't do anything you don't want. Cause I'm sure there really are things you wouldn't like, even if you don't think there are."

"Okay," you say, somewhat stumped. You haven't really thought about it in detail in all honesty. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, baby," he says. "Oh, is it okay that I call you baby?"

"Yeah, I like it," you giggle, squirming against him.

"Is there anything else you want me to call you?" You start giggling, too embarrassed to say. "Hmm okay, what about doll?" he asks, and you giggle more. "Okay, what about princess?" you squeak involuntarily, making Yunho laugh. "My princess," he says in a low voice, stroking your hair and making you feel horny all over again. You start rubbing yourself on his thigh, burying your head in his shoulder. You feel a bit shameful about liking these pet names but the shame also feels good, making you feel tingly and warm.

"We need a safe word, too," he says.

"Mmm, let me think," you say, scrunching your face in concentration. "What about... waffles?"

"Waffles?" he repeats, laughing. "Okay, waffles it is."

You both lay quietly for a while, soaking in a processing your conversation, your mind still wandering. You yawn deeply, causing Yunho to yawn too. He plants a kiss on your forehead, now stroking a hand along your back to help put you to sleep. A final thought crosses his mind, something he feels he must say.

"Just so you know, you can always punch or kick me too, if anything I'm doing is hurting you or isn't what you want. If you can't speak for some reason, or you forget to. I want you to do that if you need to."

A tear forms in your eye and falls gently off your cheek onto Yunho's shoulder, and he looks down at you to see another streaming down your face. He reaches over to wipe it off gently, watching your face for any more signs of distress.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes. It's just, no one cares for me as much as you do."

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

Taglist: @mingtinysworld @pautiny27 @yoonjikim @ateez-atiny380 @luvleejuyo @soupyjoy @casterole

Love you all <3

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut

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