#she'll stop laughing for ten minutes

[zepskies]

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[woso-dreamzzz]

New Year's

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You don't want to sleep

"Come on," Magda groans as you duck under her arm again, sprinting from the living room back into the kitchen," Princesse, let's not play these games."

You're freshly clean, all nice and washed from your bath - though it was debatable if it was truly just your bath because you splashed so much that Magda got soaked too. You can't seem to stop moving.

Magda hasn't even fully got your pyjamas on so you're running around with just your bottoms and no top. You skirt around the table when she approaches and then climb under it when she makes to grab you.

It's a bit embarrassing for her, being outsmarted and outpaced by her under five-year-old. It's even more embarrassing when she looks at the clock and realises Pernille will be home in a few minutes and she's yet to get you all ready for bed like she promised she would.

It's New Year's Eve tonight and Magda and Pernille wanted to get you all tucked up in bed long before any fireworks went off so you would hopefully sleep through it all.

"Can't catch me, Morsa!" You cheer as you duck past her again and scamper off down the hallway.

"But I can!"

You're snatched up into Momma's arms before you even register that she's gotten home. She pulls you up onto her hip and blows a raspberry on your belly.

"You're shirtless!" Momma declares with a laugh," Where's your shirt?"

You give her an innocent look. "Don't know."

"You don't know?" She asks, walking you straight to Morsa, who's waving your shirt at you.

"Morsa!" You groan, suddenly going limp as if that will weaken Momma's grip and allow your daring escape. "I don't want my shirt!"

"Too bad," Momma says," Pyjamas fully on and then bedtime snuggles."

After Morsa wrestles you into your sleep shirt (a big Frido Sweden jersey that your moster gave you when she last visited), she falls back onto the sofa and waits for Momma to bring you over for your bedtime cuddles.

You try to escape but Momma doesn't let you, squishing you between her and Morsa.

"No! No snuggles!"

"Why?" Momma asks," Why no cuddles?"

"Cuddles mean bed!" You complain," I don't want bed!"

"You love bed," Morsa says," And you love night time snuggles."

It's true. She's right. You love snuggles and bedtime but not tonight.

"No!" You declare," Erin said-"

Momma groans good-naturedly. "What has Erin told you now? Is it like the sea thing? Princesse, not everything Erin tells you is true."

You ignore her. "Erin said that it's New Year's Eve and that you've gotta stay up until it's New Year's Day!"

Inwardly, Magda swears as she realises how painful this night is going to be. You can be pretty stubborn when you want to be and she just knows that you won't go down without a fight.

"Okay," Pernille says, much to Magda's horror," You can stay up."

You narrow your eyes at Pernille. "I can?"

"You can."

You immediately scamper off back to your room to grab some of your toys.

"Pernille!" Magda hisses," Why did you say that? We'll never get her to bed!"

"We will." Pernille's confidence is admirable. "She'll crash soon."

Magda watches as you run around with your toys and feels her hope dwindling.

By ten, Pernille's hope dwindles too and she actively begins trying to tire you out. She puts on music and makes you dance with Magda (who almost ends up falling asleep on the sofa), she sits you down and reads story after story after story to you for wind down time. She even manages to trick you into getting your usual pre-bed snuggles but it doesn't help like usual.

"Alright," Magda says eventually after maybe half an hour of a restless nap," I'm turning the tv off."

You whip your head toward her, abandoning the little fort you're trying to make out of the pillows and blankets Momma had tried to use to get you to feel sleepy.

"No!" You say," Millie said-"

Momma groans loudly at that, burying her face in the arm of the sofa.

You give her a strange look before continuing. "Millie said that there's fireworks on the tv when it becomes New Year's Day. Want to watch it."

"Manners, princesse." Momma's voice is slightly muffled but still stern.

"Want to watch it, please." You draw out the last word just to make a point.

Morsa crouches in front of you, pulling you out from your fort. "Alright," She says," Here's the deal. You clean up everything now, take down your fort, put your toys away and..."

"And?"

"And you can come up to the Big Bed."

"Want to watch the fireworks."

"We'll put it on the tv in our room but you have to get everything nice and tidy now."

"Promise?"

She interlocks your pinkies. "Promise."

Much with the same energy as earlier, you zoom around the house. Your fort is packed away in record time and your toys are returned to your room.

In that time, Pernille's gotten over her own exhaustion to head into the kitchen to make you your special sleepytime milk. She doesn't make it often (mainly because buying dried lavender is a pain to find) but it always makes you happy when she does and it sends you right to sleep.

"We should have done this earlier," Magda says as she holds Pernille by the hips and rests her head against her partner's back," I love her but she's so exhausting."

"She's stubborn," Pernille corrects," Like you."

Magda ignores the teasing jab in favour of saying," When did we get so old? We used to stay up until midnight all the time."

"We had a baby," Pernille laughs as she adds some honey to the lavender and milk mix, pouring it all into a sippy cup that you had probably outgrown but refused to get rid of.

"Here comes the baby," Magda mutters when she hears the familiar pitter-patter of your running feet. "Have you put everything away?"

You nod. "Time for the fireworks and the Big Bed?"

"That's right. Take your drink with you."

You dutifully take your sippy cup and run off with it.

"Whatever you're planning," Pernille says," It better work because if she's too keyed up to sleep tonight, it's on your head."

Magda has a plan though so Pernille's threat means nothing to her.

She switches on the tv in their room but also turns the light off. She puts the volume on low and makes sure you're nice and settled between her and Pernille.

"Have a drink," She says as she turns on the countdown to New Year's Day," Come on, princesse. You've been playing for a long time now. Have a sip. Momma will play with your hair if you want."

Pernille gives Magda a look of realisation and slowly cards her fingers through your tresses, scratching at your head every so often to make you feel all floaty and boneless.

You yawn a few times and your eyes slip shut even more but you always catch yourself.

Momma pulls you into her chest the later it gets, moving you from sitting upright to lying down.

It makes you feel a little sleepier and you just shut your eyes for a little bit before the fireworks.

The loud countdown from the tv sounds a little blurry in your ears and even Morsa's little chuckles sound floaty and far away.

"I think she's asleep," She says.

"Right on twelve," Momma replies.

You have to force your eyes open as what Sam told you comes to mind. You still feel heavy with sleep as you move around. "Have to...Have to..." Your head lulls a little bit before you force it up again. "Kisses."

You press a kiss to Momma's cheek and then Morsa's.

"Have to do New Year's kisses," You explain as you get comfortable on Momma's chest again," Have to. Sam says so."

You're drifting off again, completely exhausted and limp, as you feel yourself being moved a bit further up and then the two pairs of lips brushing against both of your cheeks.

You smile.

[archangeldyke-all]

ahhh hi ! could i request sevika x soft/sweetheart reader ?! the whole ‘tough for her, tender with her’ thing ahhhh i feel like she’d be so protective and scary to everyone but you

she makes my brain fuzzy

UEAHGGGGGGGGGG

men and minors dni

everyone's always telling you that sevika's grumpy, but you rarely see her frown.

she's always wearing this soft, adoring smile around you, even when you piss her off or she's tired-- there's always something sweet about her gaze when it's on you.

she comes home almost every day with some kind of treasure with you. a flower she tried sooo carefully not to crush on her walk home-- she picked it herself because it made her think of you. a rock that she thought matched the shade of your eyes. a paper crane she taught herself how to fold during a particularly slow day at work.

she melts at your touch. all it takes is the feeling of your hand on her shoulder, or scratching her scalp, or wrapped around her waist-- she always lets out a long sigh of relaxation when you first touch her, slumping closer to you as her eyes droop just a bit.

she doesn't even try to hide how in love with you she is. you get told all the time, by silco and his goons, regulars at the last drop, people who have known her her whole life: that they've never seen sevika as giggly and sweet as she is with you. it shocks a lot of people, but none of them have the guts to bring it up to her or tease her about it. she'll still bite their heads off. she just won't bite yours off.

you're like this ray of sunshine. you care deeply for everyone you meet, you ask questions and really listen to people, you laugh brightly-- sevika adores it.

she's not chatty. she can count the people she cares about on one hand. she rarely laughs anything beyond a cocky chuckle (unless it's with you, in which case she's giggle-city.) but, when you're together and you're being your usual sweet self, sevika doesn't mind one bit. she loves it. she completely disregards whoever you're talking to, but she keeps her eyes on you the whole time, watching you talk and catch up and giggle-- her own smile forming as you laugh.

she'll butt in every ten minutes, when your friends ask about you and you humbly shrug and say you're the same-- it's the first and only time she'll talk for the whole interaction, and it's just to brag about you. "actually, she's been getting really into cooking-- she's fucking amazing, what was that pasta shit you made us the other night babe? and she's been helping me out at work, she's so good with the customers she's stopped like six fights with just her words!"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[luveline]

Could I request something from the kisses before dinner universe (if you’re taking requests that is!) just es to see the girls trying to do something nice for their parents. Or reader has the girls help her do something nice for Steve since he does so much for them (or vice versa bc mom does so much for them too)

thank you for your request! hope this is okay!! dad!steve x mom!reader, 4.5k

Avery pulls her hat over her ears and grits her teeth, eyes scrunching closed. All the new baby does is cry, cry, and cry. 

"She's loud," Bethie says.

"So loud," Avery say. 

Seconds after, Dove starts to cry, like a bomb being dropped, or a siren call. She wails and wails. The sounds are endless. Avery's hat won't block them out. She throws it across the room, agitated. 

"Stevie," Avery hears you say softly, super tired, "sorry, honey, you don't know where Dove's buppy is?" 

"No idea." 

Avery looks toward her socked feet at the end of the bed, where Dove's baby bottle lays dirty against the rumpled blankets. She grabs it quickly and slides out of bed, careful not to bash into Bethie where they'd been lying down together. Avery just got a brand new TV in her bedroom for her birthday, which means they can be 'lazy excuses for girls' if her dad is to be believed. Avery knows lazy is a bad word, but Steve says it like it's funny. She always laughs. 

"Mom," Avery says, running into Dove's room. 

"What, baby?" you ask absentmindedly, a crying Dove on your hip, hands yanking aside her blankets in search.

"I have her buppy." 

You turn, smiling, grateful and bubbly as you accept the bottle and ruffle her hair. "My life saver! Thank you. Did your movie finish? I'll come and change the tape."

"Not yet." 

"Okay. Tell me when it does, angel, I’ll come and do it straight away." You lean down. "Don't bother daddy, okay? Just come and ask me if you need something." 

"Can I have some juice?" she asks. 

"Yes, you can have some juice. Can you be patient? I have to make Dove a bottle. Five minutes?" you ask. 

Avery nods without a frown. She really wants juice, but she wants Dove to stop crying more. You give Avery's cheek a little squeeze and leave for downstairs, taking the steps very, very slowly. "It's okay, Dovey," you mumble. "It's okay. I know, you're tired, I'm tired too." 

Avery doesn't want to see the baby —she loves the baby, you and Steve love the baby, everyone loves the baby— 'cos she's ridiculously loud, and Avery needs her ears to work or she'll never be a famous violinist, and then what will she do with her life? She only just started music classes. But Avery misses her dad desperately, having seen him for a ten minute period when he picked her up from school and not a second longer. 

She creeps into the big bedroom. It's a disaster. Steve is sitting in bed with the baby in his arms, rocking her back and forth, hand patting her butt and lower spine steadily. He's shushing with every pat, eyes closed. He looks like he has an unhappy tummy. 

"Daddy?" she whispers. 

His hand flies to his mouth, finger over his lips in the universal sign for Please, be quiet. 

"Are you okay?" she whispers. 

He nods vehemently, finger still over his lip. Avery remembers your recent ask too late —Don't bother daddy. Her eyes flare wide and she tiptoes back to her room, flopping onto the sheets next to Bethie with a defeated sigh. 

"It's hopeless," she dramatises. 

"It's not hopeless, it's just bedtime," Bethie says, much more talkative when it's her and Avery alone. Her pronunciation isn't the best, she's nearly two years younger than Avery, but it's more than passable. "Don't worry, Ave." 

Avery drags her face up from the sheets and pouts at her younger sister. "Mom and dad are both busy and we'll never get ants on a log." 

Bethie tips her head to one side. "Baby's sleeping now." 

"But dad wouldn't speak to me!" 

"Heather's sensi‐stive." 

Heather isn't the baby's name, officially, but it's the one Bethie likes most. Avery liked Tiffany, but no one else liked Tiffany, which was dumb. Tiffany is the best name ever. Way better than Heather.

"Tiffany," she says pointedly, "isn't sensitive, she's just new." Or, that's what Steve says. "We didn't vacuum enough when she came home so now she's not used to big sounds." 

"I'm not used to big sounds," Bethie sighs, curling in on herself. Avery does as she's seen Steve do when Bethie sulks, draping herself over Bethie and hugging her gently. She kisses Bethie's hair. Bethie grumbles, "Avery." 

"What?" Avery asks, rolling off of her. 

Bethie doesn't answer. Avery sits there thinking, and after a while it's clear you're too busy to bring the juice upstairs. 

"Maybe we should try helping." 

Bethie lifts her head off of the pillow. She looks much more like you than the rest of her sisters, same hair, same eyes, same pretty smile. Avery looks the spitting image of her dad in comparison, pretty and in a different way. "What can we do?" Bethie asks. "We're only little." 

"No, dad says we're only little, but mommy says I'm a big girl, like, all of the time. And so does Grandpa." 

"Grandpa says we're too loud." 

"Dad says grandpa's… uhm, senior. It means crazy," Avery says. 

"So we should be little?" Bethie asks. 

"No!" Avery says, annoyed. 

She jumps off of the bed and grabs Bethie's hands, encouraging her sister onto her feet. Together, they cross the landing to peer into the master bedroom, where Steve is still swaying the baby in his arms, his rumpled t-shirt stained with spit up and milk. They're practised at sneaking and Steve is too distracted to see them, whispering soft things into the top of the baby's head. 

Avery is a bit jealous, but she has a plan.

"I don't think we should do that," Bethie says.

Avery's dragged her into the bathroom. It's hard to get inside because of the child lock, but luckily Avery is more than adept. Her dad says she can't ever, never show Bethie or Dove how to do them, the same way she can't show Dove how to unlock the gates at the top and bottom of the stairs yet. She made Bethie close her eyes on the way in. 

"Don't worry, Beth, I've seen daddy do it millions of times already," Avery says confidently. 

They've opened the washing machine and shoved all of Steve's dirty clothes inside. He won't have to do them before bed tonight, and that means more time for snuggles. Avery climbed up onto the side of the machine using a precariously stacked contraption of potties and an upside down laundry basket, and now she's eyeballing how much detergent needs to go in. 

"This is heavy," Bethie complains, her arms shaking from the weight of the Tide liquid. 

Avery really wasn't supposed to show her how to open that cabinet, but she felt it necessary. Bethie won't eat the detergent, anyways, Bethie barely likes eating normal food. Avery pulls the detergent up, having finally decided that they need more. She lets a thick splash of green drizzle down onto the clothes, nodding approvingly, and screws the lid back on. 

She drops the detergent down and a rogue towel muffles the thump, sliding off of the machine and closing the lid. 

You appear looking urgent in the doorway.

"Hey, what have I said about the bathroom? You can't use this one when no one is with you, okay? Do you know what I'm saying?" 

"Sorry, mommy," Bethie says tearfully. 

You soften. "It's for you to be safe, baby." Your softness doesn't quite extend to Avery, though it doesn't fully disappear either. She's most in trouble. "Ave, you know the rules. You can come in here, but you're not supposed to bring the girls with you. I'm not happy with you." 

"Mom, I'm sorry," Avery says, not taking it quite as hard as Beth, "but Bethie needed to pee super badly, we couldn't make it downstairs." 

You buy her lie. "Okay. Okay, but not again. Promise? I just don't want you girls getting into something you shouldn't." 

"Promise," Avery says.

You smile down at them both before looking over their heads. "Daddy must've forgot to turn on the machine. Press start for me, Ave. Big green button." 

Avery clicks the big green button on the washing machine smugly. They already helped. 

You lead them out of the bathroom and back into Avery's room, where cups of juice and an exorbitant amount of snacks wait on the nightstand. They sit on the floor while you make Avery's bed, a plate of ants on logs between their knees. 

"Dove's sleeping downstairs on the beanbag," you say. The baby monitor in your pyjama pocket doesn't make a peep. "So if you do need to pee, please be quiet. And up here, too, I think daddy finally got the baby to sleep as well." 

"Is it bedtime?" Bethie asks. 

You fold back the corner of Avery's comforter. With a sigh, you sit at the top of her freshly made bed and hold out your arms. "No, it's snuggle time. Come and keep me company." 

Bethie rockets into your arms. Avery doesn't rush, focused on eating as many logs as she can, washing it down with a huge swig of strawberry and raspberry juice. You hoist Bethie over one thigh and hold her to your stomach, groaning, "Oh, there she is, there's my girl. Daddy said you didn't eat any of your dinner when you got home, do you wanna tell me why? I won't tell anyone else." 

"I just wasn't hungry." 

"Really? Did you have a big lunch?" 

"No…" Bethie rubs her face against your neck. "Daddy wasn't happy because I didn't eat any lunch." 

"Oh, sweetheart," you say, "daddy worries about you. You don't have an appetite." 

"A what?"

"You don't get hungry enough," you explain.

"That's not like me, I eat lots and lots," Avery says proudly, smiling at you through Bethie's hair in your face. 

"You do! You eat lots and it makes you smart and strong. That's why I want you to eat lots, too," you say, moving your focus to Bethie again, finger poking her chest gently, "You're just as strong and smart as your sister, but you need to keep eating. Maybe I can make you something else, if you don't want the ants on logs, how does that sound? I can make you anything you want, Beth." 

"Can I have something too?" Avery asks, licking peanut butter off of her finger. 

"Of course you can. Maybe something not too big for you, though. I don't want you to feel sick." 

Avery considers that a win. You keep prodding at Bethie, wondering why she isn't hungry. You offer her soups and sandwiches and when that doesn't work you suggest ice cream and candied orange slices. Avery can't understand why her sister would say no to all of these things, but she doesn't have time to ask. Steve wanders into the room looking like he's been trampled by an elephant, hair sticking up and eyes sallow. There's a new baby monitor in his hand. 

"Hey," he says, yawning wide. His teeth snap together and he smacks his lips. "Holy macaroni, she's a toughie. Every time I tried to put her down she'd wake up again." 

Avery has been waiting for this moment all day. She abandons her ants, wiping sticky fingers in her nightie as she crowds Steve's legs. She wants to be picked up, but she's a little too long and Steve's too tired. He bends down to put his arms under her armpits and hug her to his chest, grabbing her up half-hearted and depositing her on the end of her bed. He sits down next to her, and he pats his lap. 

She squeals happily and complies. 

"Hello," he says fondly. 

"What have you even been doing all day?" she asks him. 

He sighs. "I really don't know, Ave. I don't. What have you been doing? Besides half a jar of peanut butter." 

She giggles as he wipes the peanut butter off of her cheeks and the corners of her mouth with the bottom of his t-shirt. "I've been with Beth." 

"We watched FernGully," Bethie supplies helpfully. 

Steve melts as you have, the two of you slouched against the walls bordering Avery's bed. You have matching dark circles. Avery thumbs at Steve's uselessly, wondering if he needs a good wash or a good sleep. He smells nice, she decides, if a bit milky, pressing her face into his neck as her arms lie flat to his shoulders. 

"Is your monitor working now?" you ask him. 

"It's really loud," he assures you. 

"Okay. I'm worried I'm gonna fall asleep while Dove's downstairs on the beanbag." 

"Did you lock the baby gate?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then don't worry. All our furniture is anchored properly. The worst she can do is murder the pot pourri again." 

"I don't want to fall asleep yet, I missed my girls so much," you say, kissing Bethie's cheek. "So, so much. Maybe I can call in sick tomorrow." 

"Honey." 

"It won't hurt anyone," you say. 

"Later," Steve says, talking to you but smiling at Avery, chasing her gaze with his. "We'll talk about it later." 

"So mean to me," you joke in a murmur, sliding flat onto your back, Bethie against your chest. 

Avery can hear you whispering to Bethie, tiny snapshots of a conversation. Are you sure there's nothing wrong, bubby? and If dinner was yucky, it doesn't matter, you can tell me. 

Steve starts to brush Avery's hair out of her face, big fingers exceedingly gentle as he tucks silken strands behind her ears. She had it cut to her chin like Aunt Robin a few weeks ago, and the shorn locks fall to her shoulders now. Steve brushes through them slowly, methodically, tucking it all back with a familiar calmness in his warm brown eyes. 

Avery turns enough to watch TV, content to be held by the very best dad in the world, her hand screwed in the neckline of his shirt so he can't run away.

Having finished her hair, Steve moves on to Avery's face. He draws lines against her small eyebrows, flattening sticky up hair with care. He frets at the tiny mole taking form on her ear, the one he made her go see the doctor for. Just a beauty mark, the doctor said. 

"Well, she's beautiful everywhere," Steve had said. "How was I supposed to know the difference?" 

"Dad," she whispers. 

"What?" Steve whisper back. 

"Am I pretty?" 

Steve pushes her hair out of her face and frames it in two hands. "You're the prettiest girl in the world, Ave." 

She blushes and his face does this thing where he looks like he's going to cry, but Steve doesn't cry around them much. He cried when the baby came home, and again the next day with the baby in his arms. Avery was freaked out the first time, but Aunt Robin said he always does it. He cried way worse than that when you came home, Avey girl. He was like a waterfall, they had to put you in a new babygrow. Avery tried to picture it, her dad crying with a tiny baby Avery in his arms, there are enough pictures of them together, but Steve always looks happy. 

"You think that?" she asks. 

"I more than think it," he says. "Isn't my girl pretty?" 

You and Bethie crane your heads. "She's gorgeous," you say with a smile. Bethie nods her agreement. 

"Oh," Avery says. She'd wanted them to say that, it was why she asked, but now all the attention is on her she's not sure how to handle it.

Steve chuckles and drags her forward. "You're soooo pretty," he says into her hair, sandwiching her in the tightest hug ever. "You're beautiful. B-E-A-U-tiful." 

His niceness makes her really happy to have been nice back; he's being so gentle that Avery decides she's going to tell him about the laundry they put on for him, but he rubs her back some more and she starts to forget. It's not so far from bedtime… 

She falls asleep against his chest. 

"Can you hear that?" you ask.

Steve looks up from Avery's dozing face to you. "What?" 

You pull the baby monitor from your pocket and hold it to your ear. "I thought it was making a weird noise." 

Steve listens intently. Now that you mention it, he can hear something. "D'you put the laundry in?" 

"You forgot to put it on," you say.

"I was getting around to it. You wanted whites, right, for work?" 

"You didn't turn it on." 

"Honey, I haven't touched the machine today, not even to fill the drum. What is that noise?" he asks. 

You ease Bethie off of your lap and stand with a groan. "It's gonna break," you say decisively, "that sounds like a death rattle. Which is exactly what we need right now, more bills."

Steve lays Avery down. She can't have been sleeping for ten minutes but she's a heavy sleeper and doesn't rouse, only curls inward with her hand on her chin. Bethie holds out her hand and Steve takes it, the two of them joining you in the doorway of Avery's bedroom. 

"It won't break, don't worry," Steve placates. 

"What are we gonna do if it breaks?" you mumble, rubbing your tired face.

"We'll have to wear dirty clothes," Steve says. 

"That's not funny." 

Steve frowns. "It so is, you're just tired. And anyway, the washing machine isn't gonna break–" His eyebrows rise. 

"Steve–" 

"Holy fuck," Steve says, squeezing Bethie's hand. "Well, that's bad." 

A line of foamy bubbles are pushing out from under the bathroom door and darkening the carpeting. You rush to open the bathroom door, unleashing a wave of suds that cover your toes. "What the fuck," you say, "what the fuck? Steve, what the fuck." 

Bethie puts her hands over her ears before Steve can do it for her. 

He joins you in the bubbly bathroom, the two of you horrified and baffled at once. "What the fuck," you say again, this time sounding tearful. You click the off button on the washing machine, and while the sloshing, thick sound it was making ceases, bubbles continue to flood out. Together, you and Steve flattens your towels on top of the floor to smother the soap. You're most panicked about the carpet because it'll get damp and the wood underneath it might rot, and Steve's most concerned about the washing machine, because despite his reassurances, he's worried it really might be broken. 

Bethie, quiet, sweet Bethie, stands on a wet towel, her socks soaked, and bursts into guilty tears. "I'm sorry," she cries.

"Why are you sorry?" Steve asks.

You may be confused and irritated, but nothing ever stops you from scooping up your baby and comforting her within and inch of her life. "Beth," you say softly, "don't panic." 

She's crying pretty hard compared to her usual tears. Steve hasn't seen her this wound up since that washable pen burst in her mouth over a year ago, maybe even two. 

"Me and Ave tried to do the laundry," she admits, shaking, each word said through a staggering sob. "We wanted daddy to have less to do so we could have bedtime cu-cu-cuddles." 

"Oh, no," you say gently. 

Bethie sobs. You rub her little back. Steve doesn't like seeing Bethie cry, but he can't help smiling in the moment. It's sweet, and it's a tad silly, but the damage done wasn't nearly as bad as Bethie seems to think it is. You and Steve are worriers, is all. 

"It's okay," you say, laughing yourself as Bethie wraps her arms around your neck and nearly strangles you in an attempt to soak in your love. "Beth, nobody's mad at you, okay? It was just an accident, it didn't hurt anyone. That's really nice, trying to do things for daddy, but the washing machine is for grown ups, baby. It's hard." 

"Mommy?" Dove calls from the baby monitor.

You let out a tired groan. "No," you whine. 

"Want me to get her?" Steve asks. 

You look like you really want to say yes. "No, that's okay. It's fine." You kiss Bethie's cheek. "Daddy has to take over, my love. I'm not mad, okay? Don't feel sad." 

Bethie nods sadly. You hand her over, hovering, and press a loving kiss to her cheek as Dove begins to cry. 

Steve watches you take your socks off as you leave, throwing the wet bundle of them back haphazardly into the bathroom. Bethie smushes her face to Steve's chest and cries. He shifts her weight in his arms. They're burning from exertion, but he doesn't complain. 

"What did you and Avery do?" he asks. "You're not supposed to come in here without me or mom, you know that." 

"We just put the laundry in the washing machine," she says. 

"How did you even lift the lid?" Steve asks. 

"Avery climbed up," she says, words stringing together into one amorphous blob of sound. 

"Beth, why are you crying?" he asks, giving her back a quick pat. 

"I didn't mean to make the bathroom explode," she says tearily. 

"Ugh," Steve says. He puts the toilet seat down and sits, Bethie in his lap, his chin propped on her forehead. "Who cares? I don't even like this bathroom." 

"You're not mad?" she whispers. 

"Do I look mad?" 

Bethie leans backward to take in Steve's face. He smiles at her, brown eyes light in the glaring bathroom fluorescent, his usually even complexion pale. Bethie raises a hand to feel his dark shadow, cringing at the scratch of stubble against her fingers. 

"You don't like my beard, do you?" he asks. 

"What beard?" 

"Oh, ouch. I'll shave tonight, bub, don't worry. I know you don't like it. Mommy doesn't like it either, she says it makes kisses too annoying." 

Bethie giggles quietly. "Not too annoying," she says. 

"No?" Steve asks. He leans down to kiss her cheek and her nose and her eyebrows. "How were they? Scratchy?" 

"Really scratchy." 

"Annoying?" 

"No," she says happily. Steve preens. 

Bethie actually helps him tidy up the huge mess of the bathroom. Steve opens the washing machine and grabs all the soapy clothes from the drum, dumping them among the sodden towels in the bath tub. He and Beth wash as much soap out of them as they can, until she's practically falling asleep standing up in soaked pyjamas. 

He gets her some new ones, helps her change, and tucks her into bed. She's asleep before he's said goodnight. 

Exhausted, Steve has no choice but to persevere. He squeezes the excess water out of the newly unsoaped clothes and puts them and the towels in the washing machine, too tired to bother with separating anything properly. He doesn't add detergent. 

When that's going, he mops and dries the bathroom floor so everyone's feet can stop making sticky sounds when they walk. He puts the last dry towel on the wet patch of carpet and steps on it. He should rub it, soak up all the excess moisture, but he does not have enough energy. 

You ascend the stairs with Dove, your arms shaking from the strain. She's sleeping, so at least there's that. You take her into her room and leave her baby monitor on the side. Dove definitely doesn't need a monitor anymore, it's only for when she's napping downstairs and everyone else is upstairs. Blanket over her legs, you tuck her in and kiss her smooth forehead. 

"You need to shower," you say to Steve as you close Dove's door. 

"All the towels are wet." 

You frown as you pass him by, rubbing his forearm with your finger briefly. "What about a robe? I know it's not ideal, but you're gonna catch a cold, your clothes are wet." 

"I'll get changed." 

"You deserve a warm shower," you insist. 

"Honey," Steve says softly. Your shoulders relax at that one simple word. "I'm fine. We both need to change, and then we need to sleep." If he showered now he'd pass out against the glass like a saran wrapped turkey. 

You and Steve change into fresh pyjamas in silence, worried about waking the baby who sleeps in her cot in the corner of the room.

"I'm gonna go get Avery," Steve says. 

You're not surprised. "Softie." 

"You're a softie," he says, pinching your hip. 

Avery's where Steve left her, sideways across her sheets. He knows Bethie wouldn't have masterminded the laundry plan by herself. He frowns at the thought that Avery might be missing him so much that before bedtime cuddles were on her mind. 

"Avery, honey," he says, stroking her cheek and her shoulder with either hand. 

She murmurs and wiggles away from his touch.

"Ave, come and get in with me and mom. Does that sound okay?" He really doesn't like the idea of his oldest feeling lonely. Sleeping with kids in the bed sucks most of the time due to their flailing and lack of blanket related etiquette, but Steve can deal with it tonight. Just like Bethie, he has a guilty conscious. "Ave?" 

Avery blinks sluggishly. "I can sleep in your bed?" she asks. 

"Please, would you? I want a cuddle. Does that sound cool?" 

Avery finally opens her eyes, her long lashes riddled with sleepies. "That sounds so cool," she says croakily. 

He can't carry her, he'd drop her at this point. They hold hands on the way to your room, finding you an inch from sleep on top of the blankets. He and Avery laugh as quietly as they can as they pull them from under you, and when they climb in together, you steal Avery from his side, awake enough to know one of your girls is close by. 

"Dad," Avery whines, reaching out her arms until he does what she wants. 

Steve throws his arms over you and Avery, snuggling in closely. She relaxes into your chest, her hand clinging to the front of Steve's shirt. 

Steve closes his eyes. 

"We didn't brush our teeth," Avery whispers.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart," you plead, also whispering. 

"We'll get cavities." 

"We'll brush double in the morning," Steve promises. "Please, Ave. Sleep now." 

Averys easily convinced by Steve's hand in her hair. "Okay," she says through a yawn. "Love you love you." 

"Love you, honey." 

"...Dad?" 

Steve sighs. "What?" 

"Did you see? Me and Bethie did laundry." 

"I saw. Thanks, babe." 

"We–" 

"Sleep, Ave. Please go to sleep." 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could we get some ummmm jealous!Vanessa and reader hcs mayhaps? 🙏

"There you go, handsome. You're all set for your show."

"Thank you, Superstar. You're very kind..Officer Vanessa's lucky to have you as a significant other." Glamrock Freddy smiles after you finished up some maintenance work on him. "You've improved her daily mood by 90% since you two became an official couple."

"....you can calculate our exact moods by percentages?"

"..erm...no, I merely made up that statistic. I'm sorry-"

"I'm just kidding, silly bear. You can head back to your green room." You laugh, gently patting his chestplate before sending him on his way-

Only for him to nearly collide into Vanessa as she barges into the P&S room, impatient.

"A-Apologies, Officer. I did not see you-"

"Of course you didn't. Just get going. You're already running late."

You raise an eyebrow at your girlfriend's attitude, and when Freddy leaves she's just standing there brooding.

"His solo doesn't start for another ten minutes-"

"Yeah, but it's gonna take him at least five to get back to his room." She scowls. "And maybe longer if the brats keep stopping him along the way."

"Okay, I get it." You sigh, turning back to the computer terminal to log out. "You seem to care an awful lot about Freddy being punctual today, Nessie.."

"..well the less time he wastes flirting with you, the better."

You pause.

"Wait...you thought he was..?"

Suddenly, it all made sense.

You knew Vanessa was always kind of moody on the clock, taking almost every little inconvenience to her work personally.

But for her to be outright jealous?? Of a robot, of all people??

You had to hold in your laughter, especially as you see the look on her face as she slowly realizes that her assumptions were indeed kind of stupid..

It's not like you could go and date the bear, anyways, and she damn well knows this.

But she needed to ask what Freddy said that made you laugh..because that's all she saw when she was looking through the window.

Plus she wishes she could make you laugh like that sometimes.

You explain the joke he made, and she becomes flustered...and surprised.

"So he...wasn't making fun of me?"

"Of course not! He thinks highly of us..he wouldn't try to break us up. He's our biggest supporter, if anything." You chuckle as you bring Vanessa into a hug, kissing her cheek. "But if you need any reassurance..there's nothing going on between us, okay?"

All she can do is nod, her smile slowly appearing and her jealousy disappearing.

She'll be a little less harsh on Freddy from now on...but she's gonna feel embarrassed about this for a while.

[runningfrom2am]

big reputation - (r.c)

summary: Rafe drives you and your hardly conscious friend home from a party.

This can be read as a stand-alone but it's technically a part two to getaway car

pairing: rafe x reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: mean!kook!reader, bullying i guess?, highschool!au, swearing, drinking, emetophobia warning, smut (its implied nothing actually graphic happens)

requests

nav/masterlists

Loud music shakes the floor of the beach house you're in, filling your ears with Taylor Swift's 'End Game'. One of your favorites. You smile leaning over the railing of the loft, the world spinning as you talk to a giggly Bella, forgetting every sentence the second it leaves your lips.

"Bells, I just love you so much. Have I ever told you that before?" You say, cutting off your friend as she talks.

"Aww, I love you too. So, so much." She replies, throwing her arms around you as you both stumble and fall against the railing.

"Woah! Careful ladies." You hear a male voice close to you and a hand on your back.

"Hi! Quinton, oh my god." Bella giggles before you can identify him, pulling him into what is now a group hug.

"Had too much to drink tonight, huh?" The boy asks and you both furiously shake your heads.

"No! We would never." You say, stopping the head shake as it makes you dizzy.

"Just the good kind of drunk then? I'm glad to hear it." He laughs, dropping his arm from Bella's shoulder and leaning onto you still. You reach up and place your hand on his arm as it falls over your body.

"Yeah! It's so good. It's been too long since we've had a good party, you know?" Bella says, smiling between the two of you.

"Literally! I missed being drunk." You giggle.

"Me too, you're so funny when you're drunk," Quinton says, patting your shoulder.

"I like to think I'm funny all the time." You say, raising an eyebrow as you turn to look up at him.

"Well, duh, just a different kind of funny. More carefree." He explains. "Less... uptight, you know?"

"Oh please." You roll your eyes. "You pretty much have to be uptight to even get into Kook Academy. Bells is an outlier." You laugh.

"So true, actually." Quinton agrees.

Before you can reply, Bella speaks up and proves her right. "I'm gonna go get another drink, I think. Do you want one? Or a water? Actually, yeah I'll get you a water, Y/N/N. It'll be good for you. Yeah." Bella rambles on, quickly tapping you on the shoulder and pointing at you before heading unsteadily toward the stairs. "I'll be right back!" She shouts over the music as she gets farther away.

"Thank you, Bells!" You call after her.

"Come with me," Quinton says, leaning down to speak in your ear, then placing a kiss on your neck.

Shivers run down your back even in your drunken state, looking down the stairs and seeing Bella stopped at the bottom talking to some girls. "I should probably wait here for Bells." You reply, in contrast to you leaning your head to the side to give him more access to your skin.

"She'll be at least ten minutes. Come on." He whispers, dropping his arm from your shoulder and grabbing your wrist, leading you away from the railing and back to a somehow unoccupied bedroom. You suppose she'll be fine, she's got those girls with her and you'll find her in just a few minutes.

Downstairs, Bella stumbles into the kitchen, looking around for an empty cup, and checking all the plastic red cups littered across the countertops. "Bella!" She hears her name and turns.

"Hey! Topper! How are you?" She slurs, immediately walking up to him and giving him a hug.

"Wow, you've had a few, haven't you?" He laughs, patting her back and then pulling away.

"How could you tell?" She giggles.

"Just a guess." He shrugs. "Hey! We're about to start up a game of Chandelier- you want to tap in? We're gonna team up on Kelce, at the very least it'll be a funny watch." Topper says, laughing through the end of his statement.

"Yeah, for sure!" Bella nods, then looks down at the cups in her hands. "Oh, well, I need to get Y/N some water first. Do you think I have time?"

"She'll be fine for a few minutes, you know her." He insists. "If you don't want to drink anymore, someone else will drink for you I'm sure."

Bella thinks about it for a second and nods. She knows you're as independent as they come, but she still does worry about you. She dismisses the thought, remembering you're with Quinton and would probably like some time alone with him anyways. "Okay, sure. Sounds like fun." She agrees, following Topper out to the patio where the game table is placed.

"Hey Bella, you gonna play?" Rafe asks her as she takes her place at the table, squeezing in between Kelce and Topper.

"Yeah! I've never played this before so I'll have to learn as I go but you guys might need some patience for me." She giggles out, not really standing steady on her feet as it is.

Rafe raises his eyebrows and nods, looking at her a little surprised. "Right, yeah." He gives Topper a look, suggesting it may not be the best idea for her to play. "Hey, Bella, where's Y/N?" He asks, leaning over the table a little as the boys work on filling up all the cups with various drinks they had on hand.

"Oh! Uh, she's upstairs." Bella answers, smiling and leaning in a little bit. "With Quin. I figured I'd give them some alone time." She giggles, winking at him.

"Oh, gotcha. Cool." Rafe finds himself looking up towards the windows on the second floor, not sure what he was expecting or even wanting to see.

"Yeah, I'm excited for her! I think she's really into him. Well, that's what she says. She never seems interested when I want to talk about it, though. She does have some issues so I think it could be about that. Sorry, no. I shouldn't say that- I mean, I just worry about her because of some stuff that's happened to her and I definitely shouldn't be telling any of you this so I'm gonna stop talking right now." Bella rambles on, slowly trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

"No you're fine- we won't tell anyone," Topper says, shaking his head. "Who hasn't had a sprinkle of trauma in their lives, you know?"

"Let's just play," Rafe says, quickly polishing off what's left in his can before tossing it over his shoulder. "Me and you start, Top. That way Bells can see how it's done."

It's been about half an hour since Bella left to go get your drinks, and part of you feels guilty for disappearing on her. Realistically, though, you know she doesn't mind finding someone else to talk to for a bit while you're sitting on the ensuite bathroom counter with Quinton's head between your thighs. She's got tons of friends- and god knows she'll love to hear about it later.

Your head is leaning back against the mirror, eyes closed and all you can hear is your own heavy breathing and the music shaking the walls from downstairs. That's until you think you hear someone calling your name, then a hand on the bedroom door handle which is in full view of the open bathroom door. Why did you not lock it? You shove Quinton's head away as quickly as you can, just in time to push your skirt down before the door swings open.

"Y/N-" It's Rafe, and he freezes for just a moment, clearly processing what he almost walked in on as Quinton stands up, wiping his mouth on his shirt which he just picked up off the floor.

"Hey, Rafe- what's up?" He asks casually, pulling the fabric back over his head. As you stare at the boy, stunned and red in the face. 

"Uh- I need Y/N. Something happened." He explains vaguely, grabbing your arm and pulling you from the room.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe! What the fuck?" You say once you're out of earshot, letting him pull you down the stairs.

"It's Bella, she keeps asking for you. She's like, super fucked up." Rafe huffs, pulling you out onto the patio.

"Okay yeah, aren't we all?" You scoff and he shakes his head. You take one look at your friend, laid out on the grass on the back lawn and quickly run over to her, kneeling by her side.

"Hey, Bells? You alright, babe?" You say, a sympathetic smile on your face. She absolutely does not look good.

"No..." She groans, opening her eyes to look up at you. "Can we go home?" She asks, and you quickly nod. 

"Of course. Uh... yes. Do you think you're gonna be sick? Will you be fine if I call an Uber?" You ask.

Rafe is quickly kneeling next to you. "I got some water, here, Bella, let's get you up." He says, and you both help her slowly sit up, then he hands her the cup.

He leans in close to your ear to talk to you so she doesn't hear. "She puked all over the table- she's probably done for now but she's gotta get home." 

You wince and look back up on the patio where Kelce and Topper are throwing cups into a garbage bag and dousing the surface with any cleaner they could find under the sink and covering it in paper towels. "Yikes." You chuckle, turning to look back at him.

"Yeah, it was not pretty." He laughs a little, shaking his head. "Do you guys have a DD?" He asks.

"No, we were going to Uber- but I don't know if they'll let us in." You sigh, sitting back on your heels.

"No, no. 'm fine, guys. I take it back. I wanna stay." Bella insists, handing you the almost empty cup.

"Well, I think I'm ready to go home, babe. That okay?" You smile at her and she nods.

"Of course! Yeah, let's go home." You giggle at how quickly she changed her mind.

"I think I can drive," Rafe says, looking between the two of you. You hesitate, thinking it over. "I haven't had much. I was going to drive myself anyways. Do you trust me?"

You find yourself nodding. He seems sober enough for you. "Yeah, okay. Rafe is going to take us home." You turn to your friend, patting her leg.

"Oh! Thank you, Rafe. You're so sweet." She slurs, reaching forward and placing her hand on his cheek.

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's a new one for sure. Come on. Let's get you home."

You both help her up, letting her drape her arms over both of your shoulders and holding her waist as you walk out to the street, towards where Rafe says he parked. Luckily he didn't take the bike, he was thinking he'd probably have to drive Topper and Kelce too.

He watches you as you talk to Bella quietly, giggling to yourselves. "Oh god, wait! Y/N I'm so sorry- you were with Quinton!" Bella says suddenly, now loud enough for Rafe to hear. "I hope I didn't ruin anything- oh god..."

"No, no. Bells, it's fine." You insist, shaking your head. "It wasn't good anyways." You shrug, making Rafe choke on his laughter.

"What? Why?" Bella gasps, looking over at you. "Was he-"

"Uh-" You laugh nervously cutting her off as you briefly make eye contact with Rafe over her head. "I'll tell you about it later, okay?"

"No, please- share with the group," Rafe says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not gonna 'share with the group', let's just say, I'm over him now and I'd like to thank you both for getting me out of there."

The two of them laugh at that, and Bella tries to lean in to whisper to you. "You'll still tell me the details later though, right?" She says, trying to be quiet but it was still loud enough for Rafe to hear.

"Yeah, yeah of course." You giggle, making eye contact with him again.

"Uh, this is us," Rafe says, digging in his pocket for his keys to unlock the vehicle. He opens the back door, and you both help Bella in. "Okay, not to be that asshole, but Bella; if you have to puke, now is the time because I really don't want it to stink in here." He says as you buckle her in. She nods and gives a thumbs-up.

"I'm good. I promise."

"Okay, Bells, if you think that you're going to puke while we're moving, say something, okay? We can pull over or roll down your window or something." You tell her and she nods again. 

You hop in the passenger seat and Rafe jogs around to the driver's side, climbing in and starting it up. You drive in the direction of Bella's house, putting on any Taylor Swift he had on his phone at her every request- not that you minded. It was mostly Reputation, which was fine by you since that was your favorite as well.

Luckily, you make it to Bella's without a hitch, jumping out to go enter the gate code to be let onto the property. You quickly jump back in and Rafe pulls up the long driveway to her house. 

"Rafe! Here, hold on- how much do you want?" Bella asks, digging through the bag on her lap. 

"Don't pay me." Rafe laughs, shaking his head. 

"Okay, well, I guess I'm just going to accidentally leave this fifty back here where you can't reach it. Oopsies." She laughs, tucking it in the back seat and wrapping her arm around you again as she pretty much falls out of the car.

"Yeah, whatever Bella." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "Hey, Y/N, are you staying here? Or do you need a ride home?" Rafe asks as you're about to shut the door.

"Uh, I think I'll go home if you're okay to wait a couple minutes while I get her to bed?" You ask and he nods.

"I'll be here." He assures you and you thank him before shutting the door, helping Bella up to her house, and entering the code to get in.

"Wait, wait, tell me about Quinton!" Bella whispers once you're inside as you help her upstairs to her room.

"I'll tell you tomorrow- we'll debrief at brunch, yeah?" You laugh, shutting the door to her room behind you.

"Okay, okay." Bella sighs, flopping down on her bed as you grab her a makeup wipe and some pajamas from her drawer. "You know what I've been thinking?"

"Hm?" You hum in response, placing the pajamas on the bed and sitting down next to her, holding her chin as she sits up so you can gently wipe off her makeup for her.

"I think you and Rafe are like, the same person. You have a lot in common! You're both the oldest of three, you both are a little bit mean, but like in a fun way, and you have virtually the exact same sense of humor." She says and you laugh, shaking your head. "If you're over Quinton now, like you said, maybe- I don't know, just a pitch, maybe you should consider all your options. That's all I'm saying." 

"Bella, come on. Rafe is... Rafe." You laugh, carefully wiping her lashes. 

"Yeah, and you are you. And I'm me. And you're kind of friends, so like- what's the harm? Also, I can see it in the way he looks at you." She says, eyes still closed. "Besides, I've heard it's big." 

"Bella!" You laugh, your cheeks burning as you sigh. "I've heard that too." You admit.

"Okay! You can get us evidence and give me all the tea. Neither of you are the relationship type either so there's no pressure." She explains. "But also, like, I really don't think a relationship would be bad for you. Or him. If you are as similar as I think you are. Also, you kind of went on a date the other week! Like, come on. You get on so well."

You smile to yourself and shake your head, getting up to throw out the dirty wipe. "I've got to go, Rafe is waiting." You giggle and she nods, laying back down. "Hey, put your pajamas on before you pass out. Okay? I'll see you in the morning." You head back to the door.

"Go get your man, Y/N/N. I love you." Bella yawns, already half asleep.

"Love you too. I'll call you in the morning." You whisper, stepping out and closing the door softly behind you, careful not to wake her parents.

You sneak outside, running over to the car where Rafe is still waiting, looking at his phone when you jump in.

"She good?" He asks as you close the door.

"Yeah, passed out instantly." You chuckle, avoiding eye contact with him. 

"Sweet. Yeah." He agrees, sensing a shift in tension. He starts the car and you start back down the driveway, getting back out onto the road after closing the gate behind you.

"So, did you tell her about Quinton?" Rafe laughs.

"No, that's a breakfast conversation for sure." You chuckle.

"A breakfast conversation? Really? Why do you have to put other people through that?"

You shrug in response. "Because I don't give a shit if anyone knows." 

"That guy is a dick, you know that right?" Rafe says suddenly, and you look over at him as he stares at the road.

"Well, yeah, but we're kind of friends so..." You reply defensively.

"He's not worth your time. I know him pretty well, and just like, don't bother." Rafe says, glancing over at you for a second.

"Maybe I'm not worth his time." You reply.

"Nah. You can do so much better. And it wouldn't be hard." Rafe insists.

"Thanks." You say hesitantly. You've never been the best at accepting compliments, but Bella has told you to work on it, so when in doubt, just say thanks.

Luckily you don't live far from Bella, so you pull up to your house in just a few minutes. You open the door, grab your bag off the floor by your feet, and going to shut the door. You've been sitting on what Bella said, really just marinating in the thought of you and Rafe together. No harm in trying, right?

"Aren't you coming in?" It comes out more passive-aggressively than you intended when what you meant to ask was if he would like to come in, but that's just not how your mind works sometimes. His head snaps up at this, and he's already undoing his seatbelt.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." He agrees quickly, turning off the car.

part one

taglist: @slut4drudy , @madelynie , @mutual-mendes , @sadfury , @totallynotkaibiased (i also tagged some mutuals who like my other stuff so if you want to be added or removed lmk!!)

[cherryjuiceblues]

this is demonrry after embarrassing y/n

let's say this takes place before they fell head over heels for each other and y/n still hates (strongly dislikes) his guts. (emphasis on the big eyes and teasing pout.)

Y/N is food shopping. A task that provides no enjoyment but a task that must be done nonetheless. She's been perusing the aisles for no longer than ten minutes when the air around her shifts (and she's had the displeasure of seeing him on multiple occasions by now so she guesses it's Harry).

And as Y/N turns around, that familiar scent hits her nose and she wants to melt into it but Harry is cruel. He teases her with a hint of what she could have—aromatherapy like no other—and then he takes it away within the same breath she inhales. Saccharine vanilla bathed in slices of lime turned stale supermarket air with hints of Chicken Tikka Masala (that some poor worker dropped all over the floor minutes prior).

"Cooking me dinner tonight, Bambi?"

He's beside her, inspecting her basket with an amused glance. There's nothing even remotely funny to be amused about, but Y/N supposes her mere existence is enough to quirk the corners of Harry's lips.

"No." Y/N huffs, looking down at her list in an effort to pretend the demon stood next to her, is in fact, not.

It's a real shame, a real damn shame, that the next thing she needs is just out of her reach. On the highest shelf, near grinning down at her.

Harry, who has been reading her list over her shoulder, smirks when he realises Y/N's dilemma.

"Oh dear," he teases, "that UHT milk is awfully high up. Those little legs of yours won't do."

And Y/N's had a rough day, she'll admit, so it makes perfect sense that she can't take his taunting today; makes perfect sense that her eyes start to sting a little.

"Bog off," she mumbles, clearing her throat and twisting her neck away to stare down the aisle and hide her hypersensitive tear ducts from Harry.

She's embarrassed. Not upset—embarrassed. And tired, and frustrated, and a little lonely. She doesn't like to admit that maybe she wants Harry to be nice to her for once. Would it kill him to blind her with his smile and grab the milk with barely a stretch of his arm?

She thinks not.

But she won't tell him that. Obviously.

Instead, Y/N conspicuously rubs at her eyes and turns to look back towards the shelf. Her chest expands with a deep inhale and her neck cranes as she burns holes into the stupid carton. What are you doing up there? she thinks, tone scolding.

Suddenly, a sinewy arm obstructs her vision—and on the end of that arm, a large palm with slender fingers reaching out to grasp the very thing she needs.

There's no need for preamble; no pause before she moves, as Y/N follows Harry's movements with her own hand, outstretching and demanding of the container he is holding.

Harry registers her motions before she's even executed them, moving the milk out of her reach once again. It laughs down at her from above his head. Y/N nearly feels sorry for it. Another corruption for the Demon Brigade.

"What are you doing? This is for me," Harry frowns, convincing as ever as he stares down at Y/N's pitiful face. Her attempt at showcasing anger tickles him considerably. She might as well be impersonating a little kitten whose ball of wool has been taken away.

"Stop it, Harry. Just give it to me." Her eyes are still stormy, but more so because they're wet as opposed to threatening. Her lashes want to clump together but she's trying to suppress it for as long as she possibly can.

But even if he wasn't preternatural, Harry still would've spotted her distress from a mile away. And he still would've found it greatly rewarding.

"Oh, poor little thing, are you having a bad day? You're crying."

Fuck's sake. A tear drips down her cheek right as he says it. Y/N wipes it away furiously. Harry's eyes widen in faux sympathy, lips jutting out to showcase succulent pink as he pretends to feel even an ounce of genuine care for her.

And maybe he does, but boy if he hides it well.

His face morphs into a smile—dimples and all—warm enough to light a spark inside Y/N's chest, no matter how mocking it is.

"You make it so easy, silly girl," he says as he surrenders the milk to her awaiting hands. He could've played this game all day but even Harry recognises the humiliation of crying in public.

He'll test her patience again when they're behind closed doors. When she can't glare at him and spin on her heel, stomping off in a huff to continue her shopping with his stupid smirk behind her eyelids.

Harry waits for her outside the shop. He walks her home, much to Y/N's vibrant distaste—and he bullies her the entire way there.

[eldritch-spouse]

The time has come again... What do the icons do with a plushie of their darling? Do they dress her up? perhaps put her on display for everyone to see her cuteness? Maybe even a cuddle when their actual darling is being a bit sour? Descriptions and nsfw welcome :) PS: pinnie you've been cranking out new ocs like a factory honestly I'm living for it-

[Hm, is this a fetish I smell? If it is, I'm not judging. I create ocs with the same ease I breathe, which is to say I probably have ten different breeds of brainworms.]

Reader plush Part 2 - Eletric Boogaloo (Icon edition)

Vesper thinks it's absolutely adorable, he doesn't care what it's dressed with, he just likes it. Surprisingly, he doesn't have much of a desire to desecrate the thing sexually, but he will make stupid lewd poses with it just to make you laugh. He'll let the imps hold it, but if they want to "use it", they have to ask you first. You haven't been informed of this, so it's quite bizarre to wake up in the middle of the night to a flustered imp frantically begging to fuck your plush.

Vorticia keeps it safe and sound in the highest shelves of her manor, where no moron can reach and destroy it. She'll order one tailored outfit for it, matching your best clothes, and leave it at that. It's quite hilarious, but the small extensions of herself seem hypnotized by the doll, hissing and snapping to reach it so they can nibble and rub on it. They fight over it, and Vorticia will flick both if they end up damaging her plushie. You absolutely have to pose with it so she can take a picture.

Zizz looks like an unsupervised child in a candy store. His tail has not stopped swatting like a helicopter for minutes on end. He's stuck staring at the thing and purring deep enough to shake the walls. It's his favorite now, he's keeping it on top of every other plush in his pile and he will absolutely hump that thing more often than not. Of course, you're better, but if you really want to get him riled up, cuddle up to it while he fucks you. Never will this demon come faster and harder.

Rinx's initial reaction is very muted, he mentions the plush being adorable and definitely won't let go of it once he's given the thing, but no one would blame you for thinking that he'd just keep it locked somewhere and never touch it again. In fact, one of the first things that runs through his head is to mark it. As soon as he confirms he's alone, Rinx will shamelessly rub his cock on your poor stitched face and drown it in cum. You'll never see that plushie again. For the love of anything remotely holy, find that plushie and wash it.

Kalymir isn't too impressed at first. In fact, he might use it as squeeze toy and make jokes about how it might be tougher than you. Everyone who touches it gets flung into the wall however. Although he's not one to play or love on the thing, he'll show off to it to feel confident. Sometimes he has odd, one-sided conversations with the plush. Anyone who walks in on it, besides you (mock him forever), is possibly decapitated.

Cero scrutinizes the quality heavily, and if he finds a single blemish, he's sending it back to demand complete perfection. Anything else in as insult to the two of you. He would prefer a doll, in all honesty. The thing is kept immaculate, in its own little custom-made case, and the Icon has no desire to manipulate it. Cero's very anal about the position and detail of the plushie, imps have been stabbed for dropping or merely dislodging the makeshift enclosure. That plush might as well be an SCP given how well it's guarded.

Livius is smitten with it. But he's also creepier than he should be. He'll use it as puppet and make it "interact" with you, a hyperbolic version of your traits that might actually be more accurate than you'd like. This will get annoying fast. The grossest thing he'll do is jerk off while gripping the plush close to his chest. He's absolutely going to go above and beyond to replicate your clothes and accessories for it, the mini-Queen is spoiled rotten.

[caffeine-clouds]

Sonic Characters When They're Sick

Hi, I'm sick - which is fun. But this gives me a good excuse to make yet another post. How Sonic characters act when they or their friends are sick, let's go hoes:

Sonic: He has two moods. When he just has mild sniffles? The WHOLE world knows about it;. He whines with the worst case of man flu imaginable and acts like he's about to die - much to the annoyance of everyone around him.

However, when he has a sickness you should worry about? No, you won't know about it. He'll keep trucking along to the best of his ability until he faints. As for when his friends are sick? He's more likely to laugh than anything else before running to get some medication.

Tails: He's smart so he actually knows like - how to take care of himself. He has a tendency to downplay his symptoms though but thankfully Sonic can spot when Tails is going through a rougher patch than he's letting on. The only time Tails will neglect looking after himself is when he's currently working on a big project and he doesn't want to stop - regardless of his sickness. Sleepless nights end up only making things worse and you get the point. Sonic or Amy has to drag him away from his work as a result.

Knuckles: For a guy who's lived in the wilderness all his life and has never stepped foot in a hospital - he's only gotten sick once in his life, guess he built up his immunity. He's got all the natural herbal remedies ready to go for his friends and basically goes into full-blown crunchy mom mode when he hears they're struggling. You have medicine in your hand? Nope, nope. Put that down. He's got the flowers, herbs, salts, and essential oils right here - you'll be just fine.

Amy: Again, as a functioning member of society - she knows how to take care of herself. She balances it out - she has both medicine and natural remedies to treat herself and others. She is doting on others when they're sick, especially Tails. Although she doesn't have patience for Sonic's bullshit. She WILLL show up to your house with dozens of baked goods because sugar = happiness, simple equation.

Rouge: Drama Queen, period. Homegirl is dramatic even when it's just a common cold. This has had an undesirable effect on her teammates that we will discuss later. She lays on the couch under a blanket, tub of ice cream in hand and watch whatever TV show she's been meaning to binge. Being ill is an excuse to be chill - that's her motto. She might remember to take actual medicine.

Shadow: Can't get sick. But when someone around him is sick, his germaphobe mode fucking activates. He will be cleaning the same countertop for ten minutes straight, very vigurously. Why? Because Rouge ended up accidentally teaching him that all form of Mobian sickness is the end of the world and in his mind - anyone could die from a cold if untreated. He does not want it spreading, and if he could get Rouge to wear a hazmat suit - he would. He's the one reminding everyone else to take their fucking meds.

Omega: He doesn't really understand the concept of sickness all that much but when he sees Rouge in pain - his instict is to go straight to the source. He will interrogate to find out who she caught it from and will proceed to beat up that person if they fail to stop him. Although let's be frank - he's mainly just feigning his ignorance at this point so he can have an excuse to get violent.

Blaze: Again, knows how to take medicine and keep herself hygenic. Often doted on by castle staff allthough she doesn't really like it when it happens. She will keep insisting she can carry out her royal duties instead of taking rests - which can have poor effects. But again, castle staff are there to stop her from going too far. Her friends also encourage her to rest because they know of this habit of hers. If her friends are sick - she'll make sure they have their meds, a place to rest, and a warm cup of tea before leaving them so she can go about her day.

Silver: Surprisingly the most competent in dealing with sickness alongside Amy. Again, a surprisingly strong immune system despite how much ash he's probably inhaled over the years. Maybe chaos energy exoposure fixed it - who knows? But anyways - he rests, he takes his medicine, but if he hears his friends are in a fight he will show up to it regardless of how he feels. When his friends are sick - he's supportive, always checking in to offer company and he's texting cute cat GIFs to cheer people up.

Tangle: She's got you, okay? She'll make you a nice drink - hot chocolate - with cream and sprinkles - she's on it, she'll give you snacks, she will find her old video game consoles and comics to keep you entertained, she will get you dozens of blankets - everything you need! Everything... except... medicine. She has a tendency to forget the important part.

Whisper: If she doesn't know you too well, she'll pass you the paracetamol with the longest piece of apparatus she can find so she doesn't have to get too close to you. If she is close to you however, (i.e. Tangle) - she is fretting, girl is waiting on hands and knees, she is ready to give you EVERYTHING you need - you just gotta say the word.

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Seven: Dodgeball to the death

You all had been sleeping absolutely terribly the past couple days because Harold fucking snores. So at breakfast, Duncan was trying to eat but could barely move, and you had passed out in your porridge. "Duncan, you look like death dude." Chris's overly cheerful voice rang out.

"Sick it." Ducan hissed before putting his head down on the table. Courtney explained their predicament.

"Wow, four nights without sleep. How much is she hurting dude, how much are you hurting dude? I kinda want to test how far it takes to break, you both." Chris smiled like a maniac. "Want to find out?" Duncan hissed.

Instinctively your whole group hid under the table, getting used to Duncan's anger. But one small snore coming out of your mouth quieted him.

Then Harold walked in with a drawn on mustache on his face causing the place to erupt with quiet giggles.

"That was me!" You raise your hand lazily. Heather began to taunt your team, causing you to throw a knife at her pinning her hair to the wall. "Get your attack dog under control." Heather yelled terrifed trying to get her hair unstuck.

"She don't bite." Duncan waved her off. You smiled weakly flipping her off. "Yes she do!" Heather screamed.

Chris walked in then. "Listen up campers, your next challenge starts in ten minutes, and be prepared to bring it." He announced as you tipped over onto Duncan passing out.

-----

You were playing dodgeball. Everyone had already gotten to the little ring, but Duncan was trudging behind. Once he walked inside he pointed at you looking mildly pissed off. "If you wake me up, it'll be the last thing you do, L/N." You rolled your eyes. Whenever Duncan was tired he got angry.

"This is all your fault, you know?" Courtney hissed at Harold.

Chris explained the rules making it seem harder then it needed to be. You were okay at dodgeball, it was basically like a prison riot. Chris gave you one minute to discuss strategies. Apparently Courtney could read your mind because she said-

"There is no way we are having Little Miss Crazy play. She'll kill them and get us disqualified." The girl whined and you growled. "Don't call me crazy." You hissed dangerously pissed as you stalked over and sat down by Duncan.

The games went on and your team got decimated by the Screaming Gophers. You weren't surprised. Yet, Courtney persisted with her idea of not having you play. So you watched.

You watched as Harold got his ass beat by LeShawna, Heather beat Tyler's ass, Courtney beg for a disqualification, DJ hit poor Gwen, it was a very interesting expierence.

Cody pulled a wild ass move out of his fucking ass. It looked impossible but he used the ball as a boomerang. Everyone was getting pissed on your team, yet Courtney persisted.

You played with Duncan's hair as he slept, and he subconsiously leaned into your hand, mumbling in his sleep. Whenever the other was close, the nightmares seemed to stop. It was... helpful. So when everyone was out on your team... again. Courtney gave this speech. "We need someone, tough, someone who wants to beat the other team to death." Everyone looked at Duncan and you.

"He'll kill us if we wake him up." DJ whispered his fears. "He won't kill us... I hope. He wants to win just as much as us." Courtney sighed not looking so sure. "Now wake him up, Y/N." She ordered. "Why me?" You laughed. "Your the only one who'd stand a chance against him in a fight." She explained and you shrugged. Made sense.

You pushed Duncan off the bench and he stood up growling. "You better have a good reason for pushing me off the bench, pincess." He nearly yelled in your face making you take a step back. "We're down two to zero. If we lose I'm going to make sure it's your ass that gets voted off, sunshine." You yelled back, making him retreat now. He may be your bestfriend, but your fucking Y/N L/N, you don't back down for shit.

He finally realized what was happening around you. "This is dodgeball, why don't you just play, you destroyed the boys last year at the anual game?" He sounded more confused then mad now. "That what's I'm saying, but miss goody two shoes thinks I'll lose my shit." You pointed at Courtney. "That's what I'm here for?" He pointed at himself.

"That's what I said!" You laughed.

"My only condition is that Y/N's co-captain. We both play, or no one plays." He explained to Courtney who nodded. "Here's a stratagey I picked up on our first visit to juvie."

You laughed remembering the event.

"It's called: rush the new guy." Also known as the first time Duncan got his ass beat in juvie rendering him with a broken collarbone and a double concussion. In shorts terms, you all converge on one person while playing dodgeball.

Soon enough you were dominating the game.

It had gotten to the point where it was 2 wins to 2 wins. This was the final game, to decide who won. It went from five players on both sides, to four, three, then two. It was a neck and neck game.

Then it was Harold vs Owen. "Well I can't say it was nice knowing him." You muttered. "Good night, Harold." Duncan sighed squeezing your hand.

But somehow the ginger dodged every ball thrown at him. "Where'd you learn to do that?" Geoff asked the boy. "Figure skating." He replied proudly. "Figures." Duncan shaked his head. Courtney told Harold he was going to have to catch the next ball thrown at him.

Which miraculously, he did.

Your team erupted into cheers. People hugged, but Duncan twirled you before bringing you back into his arms. "Wake me up again and I'll fight you, L/N." He whispered smiled kissing the top of your head. "I'd like to see you try, tiger." You smiled kissing his cheek causing the boy to blush.

You guys were getting closer by the second.

---

|Trending on X right now|

#THEYAREINLOVEYOURHONOR

#thetension-ican't-

#christmas!twodaysaway!

#covid19

#itdontbitememeswithduncanandy/n

--------

"Nice dodge skater nerd." Duncan 'complimented' Harold as you and DJ carried him on your shoulders cheering his name.

----

If you had asked Courtney, or the twin bestfriends, or Bridgette where you had fallen asleep they would've lied straight to your face and said in a bathoom.

If you had asked Geoff, Harold, or DJ where Duncan had fallen asleep they would've lied and said by the lake. In reality there was two people fast asleep their bodies entangled on Duncan's bed.

Duncan layed flat on his back with an arm as an extra pillow, and your head layed out on his chest, your hair falling down your back. You both were fast asleep, he had his hand sleepily playing with your hair twirling it around in his fingers and you had your hands attached to his shirt twisting it in your sleep.

Duncan wouldn't mind.

He never minded when it came to you.

[starstruckwillows]

okay okay okay! remus lupin x shy!hufflepuff!reader

where she joins remus and the boys on a hogsmead trip and is like silent the whole time and the guys think they did something wrong so they keep trying to make it up to her and remus just watches in amusement as y/n kinda hides behind him and tells the boys she's just shy and she's not uncomfortable at all

♡ shy, not high - r.l ♡

oof i kinda hate this one but i hope you like it lol <3

starstruckwillows 🂱

pairing; remus lupin x reader

category; fluff, humour

summary; remus' outspoken, outgoing friends are a far cry from your usual quiet

warnings/content; none

other; fem!reader, shy!reader, hufflepuff!reader

remus was getting increasingly nervous to introduce you to his friends, but they persisted.

"c'mon remus we'll be fine! it's not like we're gonna bite her, we're nice people!" james whined.

sirius knocked his head lightly, "well you won't know if you don't ask her."

he sighed and said, "i know prongs, but she's really shy"

peter frowned, "like weed or?"

"shy, not high, wormtail."

"oh. my bad."

after some more relentless prodding, "i don't even know if she'll want to!"

he was answered with a groan as remus mussed up his sandy hair before grumbling, "fine, i'll ask. but no promises."

the three marauders nodded eagerly, and remus was surprised that you did too when he gathered the nerve to ask.

"really? they're kind of... a lot."

you smiled at him, upside down from the position on your bed while he stood in the door, "i mean, yeah, i know, but they're your friends, i'd like to know them."

remus rubbed the back of his neck, "that involves talking to them though."

"yeah, i guess. it'll be fine."

it was not fine.

at first, anyway. remus had warned his friends that you were shy, but the word wasn't really in their vocabulary, and they worried they'd done something to seriously upset you as you silently walked, hand linked with remus'.

"did we say something bad?" sirius whispered to peter, but quiet wasn't in their vocabulary either, and remus definitely heard.

he said nothing, not wanting to embarrass you. but an hour later, james had gifted you thirteen sugar quills, peter had offered you help with transfiguration homework, and sirius showed you a cool card trick he'd spent ages mastering - he even told you the secret behind it.

you just smiled and nodded and thanked and laughed when appropriate. they were starting to worry.

so when you went to the bathroom in the three broomsticks, the guys jumped at remus, begging to know what had gone wrong.

he shook his head in amusement, "i told you, she's shy."

they looked confused.

he sighed, "shy. as in, struggles talking to strangers. gets nervous easily. not a fan of many people trying to speak to her at once."

they nodded seriously, james the one to ask, "so how do we make her feel... like we're not strangers?"

"if you want to make her comfortable, just ask her about something she's interested in, and be genuinely interested as she tells you about it."

sirius prompted, "like what?"

remus shrugged, "she's really good at potions, loves em. better than snape."

better than snape was something the others loved to hear.

when you returned, you slipped quietly back in next to remus, who soothed the back of his hand over your leg that had started bouncing. you stopped the nervous reaction, taking a breath.

you expected them to continuing talking about quidditch, but to your delight, the topic had switched to potions.

and you came out of your shell bit by bit, remus hiding a fond smile, the other three celebrating in their heads.

for the next few months, they strived to bond with you, over the moon when they succeeded.

only to be slightly pouty all day when lily managed to instantly connect with you, even making you laugh ten minutes into the meeting. they considered asking for tips, but reserved their pride instead.

shy or not, they liked you, remus loved you, and all was well.

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly

[stevesbipanic]

Thanks for the prompt @coffeecupcastiel

Let it be known that Steve and Robin don't need to be high on Russian drugs to be the most chaotic moviegoers you've ever seen.

Both of them have the lowest standard for humour and so any comedy movie is ruined for the rest of the audience by Robin's laugh which is a mix of a snort, squeal and cackle. Her laugh will always set off Steve to start laughing which will usually send their popcorn flying into the row in front of them.

At least in action movies they're able to keep their composure, until they're out in the lobby that is, where they never fail to start acting out epic shootouts and death scenes.

They think working at Family Video makes them movie experts often commenting through drama and serious movies as if they're writing a review.

The only movies that are safe to see at the cinema are horror movies, with both Steve and Robin refusing to watch them in the theatre too worried that it's the mindflayer come back to Starcourt.

The funny thing is, none of their friends know how bad they are in the movies, with Steve and Robin declaring it a special activity just for the two of them.

And no-one does intrude on their weird little not dates until one day Nancy asks Robin out. Robin's brain takes a full minute to reload, in that time Steve has closed her mouth and picked up the tapes from the floor and told Nancy that she'd love to go. Nancy smiles and tells Robin she'll meet her at the cinema at 7.

Robin is in full panic mode and so to help ease her nerves he suggests that he and Eddie join them that way they can both go on normal dates without anyone suspecting anything.

Nancy and Eddie make the mistake of allowing the two of them to sit in the middle though, and they've chosen a comedy, wanting something fun and light.

It takes ten minutes for it to devolve into chaos, Robin is trying to contain her weird laugh worried Nancy won't like it and Eddie has already been covered by Steve's popcorn. Unsurprisingly they get kicked out.

Robin is distraught trying to apologise for ruining their first date but Nancy stops her.

"You have a very cute laugh, maybe next time we'll watch a movie at my place?"

Robin is just there blushing since not only did Nancy call her cute but there would be more dates!

"Since it's still early maybe Steve can drop you off at mine in say, twenty minutes?" and Nancy leaves giving Robin a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Harrington get in the car!" Steve laughs following her after telling Eddie he'd see him later.

The four of them now have a regular movie night.

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

pairing: teen!noel gallagher x fem!oc (fern gibson <3)

summary: in which noel tries not to get jealous over someone who he knows he shouldn't be worried about, and fern gets high for the first time to soothe the blow

word count: 2.92k

warnings: smoking, swearing, sexual references, mentions of past relationships with people who are now in a position of authority,

PART TWO IS HERE

noel was fucking fuming.

he tapped out the butt of his cigarette against the low pillars of the gates, grumbling and crushing it under his shoe. the bell had gone ten minutes ago, and there was still no sign of fern emerging from the brick building. noel was about to light up another and he drew a cigarette out of the packet with his teeth as his other hand reached into his jacket pocket for a lighter.

chesc and eloise emerged from around the corner, giggling behind their hands as they walked down the road to the bus stop. before they managed to cross, noel whistled out of the corner of his mouth and he beckoned the girls over when they looked up at the noise.

"have yous seen fern anywhere?"

chesc shook her head, "sorry, no. i can't remember what she had last."

he muttered again and was about to spin around on his heel to leave, thinking that waiting by her car would be a better idea. eloise pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket before he could leave, though. she adjusted her glasses onto her nose. "yeah, that's it. she's had philosophy."

"oh." noel nodded. then upon his second drag after offering it over to eloise, "ah. that does sound familiar now you say. how long d'you think she'll be?"

"anyone's guess. i'm sure they'd let you wait inside for her if you want."

he could have laughed at the notion. "nah, you're all righ'. your, er," he gestured down the road, "the bus is here if that's useful for ya."

eloise made an angry grab at his hand and pulled it closer to her mouth for one last, final drag and she exhaled slowly. "c'mon you," chesc pulled at the sleeve of her blazer, "if we don't hurry up all of the good seats'll be gone."

both girls crossed the road and chorused out "bye, noel" over their shoulders. then, just his luck as the last embers of his cigarette died out on his finger tips, fat drops of rain fell one by one from the rolling grey clouds. he dropped the butt out of mild shock and out of irritancy he hiked his shoulders up to his ears and walked through the gates.

he hadn't ever been too far into fern's school, only really up to the top of the stairs where they sometimes sat together during her lunch break in the summer term. noel pushed forwards through the open doors, sidling up to the reception desk where the receptionist was staring down rather intently at a form requesting absence during term time.

noel cleared his throat. "'ello." he said, tapping his knuckles awkwardly on the desk, "i'm looking for fern gibson. she's, er, late for her driving lesson." he hoped his lie would work.

the receptionist clicked her pen and held it from one end in her claw-like fingers, using it to push his hands away. "her last class of the day was philosophy with mr watson. however if she's not there i'm afraid i can't help you as it is technically after school hours."

"right . . . thanks?" noel remained rooted to the spot.

"will that be everything?" she asked, sighing heavily as she looked up once again from the document, expecting his to have gone.

"no, could you tell me which classroom it was? just in case she's there."

"h7, up the stairs and all the way down the corridor, take a left and then three rights. you'll see it, can't be missed."

noel's feet propelled him down the languages corridor off the main hall and away from the receptionist. he traipsed up the stairs and was beginning to feel increasingly uncomfortable in the environment. it was all polished wooden floors and high ceilings, long windows with even longer curtains and framed pictures as far as the eye could see.

he tried to imagine fern walking around between classes, sitting at desks and listening intently; it wasn't a hard task. what was tricky, though, was trying to see her walking around his catholic secondary school, sans blazer and clearly out of her depth amongst the sort of people who flocked through the blue gates every morning.

instead he could see fern perched in window sills along corridors with eloise and chesc, whispering to each other and talking about their weekend plans. at some point he hoped fern would talk about him, perhaps what film she'd forced him to watch or how nice he could actually be when he felt like the world and its mother wasn't watching him.

right at the end of the second right turn was the sports corridor, and noel's attention was dragged away from daydreaming about fern to looking at the glossy pictures secured behind hand-crafted frames. football teams were lined up next to newspaper clippings and cut outs from scoresheets at inter-school competitions.

in one about tennis, where a year eleven had won out in a city-based championship, there was a picture of a twelve year old girl running frantically across the court. noel recognised the name, lottie reid, because liam had come home one day swearing blind she was the squarest girl he'd ever met.

he complained as he kicked the football at the wall, complained as he was forced to sit at the dinner table and complete his spelling homework, and complained as he and noel were brushing their teeth much later that evening.

further along and finally in the corridor after the third right turning, were copied and framed prize-winning essays written by students. he saw something fern had written about the reformation, an essay by the girl she hated, jessica, about the harrying of the north, and something eloise had written about pride within 'othello'.

the door of h7 appeared halfway along, and noel breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw the back of fern's head through the sliver of glass. his relief was short lived however, when he noticed fern was leaning closer to talk over the desk towards a student teacher.

something in him clicked then, his beaten up leather jacket and scuffed trainers weighing heavily on his shoulders and feet in a school he shouldn't ever have been anywhere near. noel knocked on the door and regretted it as soon as he did, though fern's face breaking out into a wide smile when she turned and saw him settled an unease lurking at the back of his mind.

she walked steadily over to the door and opened it, pulling him in with a hand around his arm. "noel!" if his reluctancy wasn't obvious by his slow steps then he didn't know how he was going to tell fern, without grabbing her by the shoulders and telling it to her face, how he was increasingly uncomfortable and wanted to leave as soon as possible.

he stood near the door and cast his eyes around the room, much bigger than any class than he could remember at barlow r.c. there were desks placed two by two, covered in ink stains and spills running through the knots of wood on the surface. fern's place, in the middle of the room, was obvious. her blazer was draped over the back and she'd hooked her bag over her chair delicately.

noel looked at her looking intently at her teacher who looked vaguely familiar. fern was nodding and humming, occasionally pointing her pen at something she agreed with before writing it down at the end of her essay. he tapped his fingers against his thigh in impatience, looking at the hands of the clock inch further round the numbers, and noel wished he wouldn't ever start thinking that looking at fern was boring.

there was a slight smudge of eyeliner out of place from where she'd rubbed at it. behind her ear was a pink bruise blossoming into a deeper shade of mauve, and noel knew there was a matching one on the back of her calf. right on the tip of her chin was a dash of pen in the colour he knew eloise used. her nails drummed rhythmically on the back of her refill pad in a constant meter. fern's leg was bouncing up and down in a tell that noel knew meant she was impatient to leave.

"but i think that's everything for you there, fern, so if you get the chance to add some improvements leave it on my desk monday morning and i'll get it back to you as soon as i can."

noel nearly let out an audible sigh of relief as fern started to pack her things away into her bag. she winked at him as she pulled her blazer on and hiked the straps of her bag higher up her shoulder. "thanks, sir. sorry to keep you."

he followed fern as she walked closer to noel, wrapping her hand over his wrist in preparation to drag him out of the classroom. "no no, it's no trouble at all miss gibson. i'm here whenever you need me."

it was noel who was ready to grab fern and run then, when her teacher, who's face had just been connected to a name in his mind, left his hand on her shoulder. he hoped she wouldn't blush. a light tinge flooded from fern's nose and she cleared her throat to rush out a thank you before wrenching the door open and shutting it firmly behind her.

she looked at noel guiltily, and avoided his stern gaze by pretending to pat her pockets down for something. "don't even start i'm not in the mood for it," she said and shot off down the corridor without another look behind her.

fern marched around corners and down the large stair case. she shoved open the doors to the school with her shoulder, leaving just enough time for noel to grab them and slip out behind her. the receptionist had gone home, leaving half-completed paperwork abandoned on the desk.

it was still raining when fern reached her car, and her hand slipped from the handle when she tried too hard too quickly to open it. when noel eventually caught up with her, fern was leaning diagonally with her forehead planted against the roof of her car, bag hanging open on her shoulder.

noel gently took her car keys from her hand and opened the car for her, feeling like he was folding her up and unravelling her in the drivers seat. fern slumped forwards and lay, rather dramatically, over the steering wheel as noel sat in awkward silence. he began to shuffle through the cassette tapes he'd filled the glovebox with in an effort to distract himself from fern's theatrical display of emotion.

eventually, fern slowly fixed herself upright. "sorry," she sighed, "i didn't know he was coming back. really."

when fern pulled onto her driveway, rather quickly sending her and noel jolting sideways, she was still arguing with him. "i'm telling you, i didn't know he'd come back." she unlocked the front door and stormed up the stairs, and noel heard a crash he assumed was her school bag being thrown into a corner of her room.

"that's not what i care about, fern, and ye fucking know it." noel yelled back, hanging his jacket over the banister at the foot of the stairs. she blazed past him still in her uniform and beelined for the kitchen. noel followed her, ignoring her setting up her notebook on the breakfast bar. he stood on the other side of the counter, arms folded over his chest.

fern glared up at him, pen held so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "well then what is it you do care about, noel?"

"that you didn't tell me when he did come back. you know i can't fuckin stand him and you never even thought to pissin' tell me!" he argued back, fighting the urge to grab the essay fern had written, that was covered in his handwriting, in both hands and tear it apart.

she scoffed behind her hand. "like that would have gone well."

noel pulled his head up to look right at her. fern had her eyes cast down to where she was re-writing parts of her homework onto a blank piece of paper, chin balanced on her hand as her eyebrows raised in anticipation for his response. he could hear her smirk and when she let out a little scoff and mumbled "thought so" noel opened the french doors and stepped out onto the patio.

fern watched out of the corner of her eye as he brushed down one of the chairs from the set of patio furniture and lit up a cigarette. against her better judgement, fern stared at the flex of his vein as noel clicked his lighter a few times, tucking it into his pocket once the cigarette he held in his lips caught the flame.

she tried to look at her essay and really take in the feedback she'd gotten from mr watson, but the glint in his eye when he told fern that noel was shuffling about outside the classroom kept her mind away from school work. outside, noel reached out to tap the end of his cigarette out in the ash tray abandoned in the middle of the table, but when he noticed fern shuffle her chair slightly closer to the doors noel moved his hand to the side.

fern was out of her chair and right infront of him faster than he could blink. "do you mind not tapping it out on the actual table? there's an ash tray for a reason."

"thought you were too busy reading what hugo's written specially."

if anyone else had spoken to her like that, noel would have expected fern to flounce away with a sharp turn of her heel. instead all he did was simply hold out the cigarette to her. she put her hand out to take it from him but noel only gestured with his head for her to sit down next to him. eyeing him cautiously, fern sank into the chair and leaned closer.

noel lifted up the cigarette to her lips and fern took a long drag, exhaling heavily. "come on. i'm really sorry."

"yeah, i know."

it wasn't that noel didn't like hugo (it really was, he fucking hated the cunt), it was more the fact that fern had a thing with him before he left to become a teacher. hugo was a year older than fern and noel, and while noel didn't associate with anyone or anywhere related to st augistine's day and boarding school, it left him with an uneasy feeling of dread whenever fern or her friends would mention her old boyfriend around him.

he had trouble with saying the words 'i'm sorry' even to fern, so offering her the rest of his cigarette was the next best thing. noel watched her cheeks hollow as she took the last three drags, and patted his knee when felix came streaking around from the side of the garden shed to preen around his legs. the small cat hopped up onto noel's lap and settled there, contently purring away, until a bird landed in the middle of the garden.

felix dug his claws in and pounced, using noel as a spring board and, not looking back at the small "fuck" that sent fern's eyebrows raising into her fringe, stretched his small body out for the bird that fluttered away as quickly as it had landed.

as felix settled into the middle of the garden, stalking away into the bushes to claw his way up the trees where the birds were chirping eagerly, noel thought enough time had passed to allow him to broach the question to fern. "are you still okay to drop me off at mike's tonight?"

she hummed. "i was thinking of coming with you, actually."

"that'll be-" noel had half-risen from his chair and remained so still it was like he'd been paused. "what?"

fern looked at him, feigning confusion. "last night, you said i could come with you if i wanted to."

"ha, um, look fern i wasn't really thinking perfectly straight when i said that." she pulled the same face at him that she'd done the night before. the one she made right before she pulled him into her room after mrs gibson had let him in through the front door, and pushed him down onto the middle of her bed only for fern to get halfway through palming him through his trousers when she declared she had homework to do.

upon recollection, in his haze of fleeting pleasure, there was a slight chance that noel had let the question slip. the look in fern's eye was far too much to take even for him, and he would have given in there and then if it wasn't for the chance that one of her neighbours could look out of their window to see a pair of teenagers getting it on in her parent's garden.

if anything, noel knew he had to make up for his overreaction to fern choosing, probably for the better because he knew he could be a miserable cunt at the best of times, not to tell him about hugo watson. he sighed and led her back inside, only to ask if he could use the phone.

"fine, you can come. but none of this prissy princess bullshit, and don't smoke, eat or drink anything that i don't give directly to you."

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🎸

[archangeldyke-all]

okay so, sevika and reader have been friends for a few years and obviously there’s feelings but they won’t admit it🤭 and reader goes on a date but gets stood up😟 and sevika comes across her crying her eyes out and maybe there’s some feelings coming out??

CUTE cute cute

men and minors dni

good luck on your date

you sigh as you stare at the message from sevika. she's so sweet-- checking in on you because she knows you're nervous.

there's no new messages for you from your date-- no new messages from anybody besides the one from sevika.

you try to relax. it's only been ten minutes, your date will show up eventually. she'll probably be here in a minute, with an explanation for her lateness. you take another sip of water and pick at the roll you've been eating, then play a quick game of solitare on your phone.

you win. you check your phone again. 15 minutes late now, no new messages.

she's late. you text back to sevika. the message is read in an instant, and you feel yourself relax incrementally at the sight of the little typing bubble in the corner of your phone.

relax. she's probably just in traffic. sevika's response comes through. you sigh, wishing that sevika was here with you.

it's not that you guys are stupid. you both know there's a shared attraction between you two. it's just that...

it's just that sevika's your best friend. and you're her best friend. and both of you are so guarded that it's nearly impossible to make any new friends, so you need each other, forever, preferably. and a relationship would just... complicate that. and jeopardize it. right?

you don't know. you're starting to question that decision, on your end. because this is the fifth first date you've been on in a month, and you're getting fucking sick of it. you wish things could be easy, like they are with sev. if she was here, you'd both be too busy laughing and joking to look at the menu. and when you finally did, you'd likely order two dishes that you'll share equally, because you're both indecisive and like variety. and you'd drink through a bottle of wine and end the night with a shared slice of cake, and then crash at sevika's-- cuddled together in her bed while a movie plays in the background.

but it's not sevika you're waiting on-- sevika'd never keep you waiting in the first place. it's a girl you met on tinder, who seemed incredibly interested in you over text, but now that you're meant to meet it seems like she's much less into you.

it's been a half hour now. you're getting a little worked up, horrible thoughts swirling in your mind as humiliation starts to settle in your stomach. the waitress has been shooting pitying looks your way, your date's ice water has melted into just water now.

your phone buzzes, and you scramble to open it. she there yet? sevika asks. you bite your lip.

no. how long do i have to wait before i accept that she stood me up? you reply.

you anxiously watch sevika's typing bubble pop up, then down, then up, then down again. you gulp.

give it ten more minutes. if she doesn't show, block her. sevika replies. you chuckle, taking a deep breath and leaning back in your seat.

okay. ten more minutes. you can do that.

you play another round of solitaire and eat another piece of bread. each time someone walks past your table your head whips up to look at them. it's never the girl from the app, it's just waiters and couples.

a lump is forming in your throat-- this is why you don't fucking date. people are unpredictable and rude, and you can't stop yourself from feeling like a fucking idiot for even trying. you feel... ugly and strange and rejected and undesirable, and the more time that passes, the worse that feeling gets. you feel tears starting to build in your eyes, and you duck your head, pretending to study the menu to hide the fact that you're crying.

"hey, beautiful." you jump, your head snapping up from the table top to look at the woman across the table from you. relief floods your body at the sight of your best friend kicking the chair out and slumping against it. she reaches across the table and wipes your tears away, and you lean against her palm.

"hey, sevika." you sigh. she smiles sadly at you, pinching your cheek before putting her hand back on the table.

"i'm sorry your date's an idiot. she doesn't know what she's missing out on." sevika says as she grabs your hand. you smile.

"you don't have to say--"

"shut up. you wanna eat here or you want me to take you home?" she asks. you sigh and squeeze her fingers.

"let's eat. i'm starving, and i'd feel even worse if i went home and let this outfit go to waste." you say. sevika smirks.

"you do look hot." she says. you giggle.

"you do too." you say, nodding at your friend. she must've gotten dressed up to come rescue you-- her usual weekend sweats traded out for nice dress slacks and a button up-- and it makes your heart skip a beat. "thanks for coming."

"fuck off, i'd do anything for you, you know that." she says, not looking up from her menu. you squeak, then reach up to cover your mouth, and sevika looks up from her menu to study you. "what?" she asks. you blink at her.

"why..." you trail off. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"what?"

"forget it. what're you getting?" you ask.

dinner goes like it always does. you guys share your food, split a bottle of wine, laughing and talking the entire time. you can't tell if she's trying to be a little extra caring toward you because you've been stood up, or if she's always like this: feeding you bites from her plate, holding your hand when you're not using it to eat.

you also can't stop thinking about how this feels better than any date you've been on this month. you can't stop thinking about how soft sevika's hair looks, how fucking sweet she is when she smiles all big and toothy, how warm her hand is, and how attractive and tantalizing the tiny flash of cleavage under her unbuttoned top buttons is.

when the night ends, sevika insists on paying. you try your best to pay the bill, but sevika kicks you under the table hard enough to bruise and glares at you when you reach for your wallet. so, you let her handle the check.

she walks you out of the restaurant with her arm slung around your shoulders, and you try to keep yourself from leaning against her chest and inhaling the smell of her cologne.

"did you drive here? i can give you a ride home." she offers. you turn to look at her, studying her under the streetlights. you've been through an emotional roller-coaster tonight, but with sevika by your side, you feel settled. she's beautiful and considerate, and you're tipsy off wine and warm from the night spent with your best friend, so you ask the question before you can second guess yourself.

"why aren't we dating?" you ask. sevika blinks at you, her eyebrows shooting up her head.

"what?"

"i mean. it makes sense, right? i find you attractive, and you find me..."

"beyond gorgeous." sevika fills in, nodding. you laugh.

"and we get along great and... i dunno, sev. i've been on so many dates but none of them feel anywhere near as right as just sitting on the couch with you. and i know we're friends but i don't think... i don't think much would change, do you?" you ask. sevika's still shocked, but there's a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"really?" she asks. you shrug.

"yeah. you've never thought about it?"

"i think about it all the time." she says. "all the time."

"really?"

"i've been tearing my hair out all month. each time you went on a date i'd be at home fucking praying that it didn't work out. i just thought-- i thought you wouldn't want me." she says. you gulp.

"of course i'd want you." you say.

"is this finally happening?" she whispers. you giggle.

"if you want it to." you say. she grins.

then, she's kissing you. her lips are soft and warm, and you feel fireworks in your stomach. you reach up to bury your fingers in her hair, and she wraps her arms around your waist, backing you up until you're against the brick of the restaurant.

you moan against her lips and she growls, sinking her teeth into your lower lip. you gasp.

"f-fuck, sev."

she pulls away with a smirk.

"sorry. been wanting to do that for a while." she says. you smile.

"do it again." you say. she grins.

"i think you're only supposed to kiss once after the first date." you giggle and pinch her side, and she laughs.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[popquizhot-shot]

My first Frankie fic! This guy is the actual loml and I've been so nervous about writing for him because I was scared I couldn't do him justice, but here it is! hope ya'll like it! please reblog and comment, it's gives writers inspiration to write more<33 thank you

"Baby, we're going to be late!" Frankie calls out as he goes around the house, switching off all the lights and fans because damn it, he's not going to waste any electricity. Call him cheap, he's careful with money.

"Give me a minute!" your voice answers from the bedroom and he sighs, a mixture of exasperation and love.

This double date with Santi and Yovanna had been long overdue, and since you finally had time off from work, he'd decided to get it over with so that you'd stop feeling bad about postponing it. He knew Santi and Yovanna, they would never mind, in fact, the both of them encouraged you to take a break and stay home but you'd adamantly refused, wanting to get out of the house for something other than work or to the grocery store.

He's about to call out again, but the words fail to fall out his parted lips. He's been married for at least five years, and known you for seven, and yet, every time he sees you coming down the stairs, even if you're dressed or not, he stands transfixed and thanks whoever is up there for you.

For the way you smile at him as you walk towards the door, looking around to check if any lights are on because you know it's what he does.

For the way you kiss him lightly, twice and slap his ass before giggling and grabbing his hand to drag him towards the car.

For the way you are completely and irrevocably his.

Just as he is yours.

He opens the passenger seat and you kiss his cheek as you slide in, "Thank you, honey."

He'll accept your thanks when he's seated and about to buckle himself, as he's always done, with a kiss.

The drive is mostly silent. It's a testament to your love for each other, to be able to have comfortable silence. He doesn't always have to speak, nor do you. Your love for each other transcends words, you allow him into your solitude and he knows it's one of the highest honors he will ever earn. Even as a former soldier.

He's able to see Santi and Yovanna sitting next to each other and talking quite animatedly as he parks the car next to the restaurant and he knows you're looking at them with a smile.

"They're adorable together." you coo. You've always seen Santi as your brother and your joy knew no bounds when he found someone he truly loved. Now, you had both a brother and a sister.

"I know right? I can't believe he's the same man from out wedding." Frankie replies and you grimace slightly, the memory of Santi making out with your maid of honor ten minutes before the ceremony began entering your mind and making you snort.

"He isn't the same man," you say as you get out of the car, "Yovanna's changed him for the better."

"Amen to that." Frankie grumbles and you bark out a laugh.

```````

You've finally settled in after minutes of hugging each other and friendly exclaims of 'You live!" from Santi, accompanied by affectionate chiding from his wife.

Frankie's sipping his drink and staring aimlessly at the menu as you chat with your friend.

"So, how's it been?" you grin at Yovanna who's looks down and smiles. She and Santi got married a few months ago and the teasing has failed to stop. You know for a fact that her eyebrows will furrow and she'll bite her lip if you called her Mrs Garcia.

"All good, Santi and I have been travelling all over the place. I've always wanted to see the country and it's so beautiful. Being with him makes it so much better." she replies.

"Of course it does, mi alma, it's me we're talking about." Santi winks playfully and you and Frankie laugh as she swats his shoulder.

You look at Frankie then, as he's laughing and teasing his best friend.

He's so fine. It's been seven years and you still feel like you're a kid with her first crush, the way you stare at him like a creep.

It's criminal, the way his eyes light up when Santi orders his favorite food, because of course the guy knows Frankie's preference. It's unreal how the same man who has fought brutal wars and been through unimaginable horrors, still finds the strength to be gentle and caring, almost everyday.

"And you call us lovesick." Yovanna's voice startles you out of your little daydream.

"I know, right?" Santi grins, "The both of you are so much worse, it's not even funny."

As if proving his point, Frankie kisses your temple and flips off Santi.

``

He's always loved pasta. The type didn't matter. Macaroni, ravioli, spaghetti. His ma would make it on special occasions, as a treat. And he'd look forward to those days as if they were his birthday.

Pasta has always made life better for him. When you make it, he's going down on his knees for you the moment his finished scarfing it down his throat. When he eats it out, he makes sure to get some parceled if he likes it, so he can eat it later.

So he savours the pasta Santi ordered for him, because it's been his favorite ever since he's stepped into this restaurant. And because he's sitting next to the love of his life, on a date, after literal weeks of seeing you sleep late, eat next to nothing and making you gulp down eight glasses of water a day because you'd rather get fired than actually take of yourself when you're in your element.

It's an amazing sight, he admits, to see you in your element. He shamelessly stares when you're giving an online presentation or when you're walking around the house on a phone call.

But he'd rather have this, you talking to Santi and Yovanna, bitching about your boss who dumps his work on you and cussing the nosy old aunties who make it their business to check if you're having kids any time soon.

Santi tells him about the coordinates Will gave him, and how he ended up throwing the paper away because he'd found his 'treasure'. that shook a laugh out of you, in Australia.

You tell him you're proud of him and Frankie smiles at him, and Santi knows that his best friend is proud of him too.

Yovanna tells you about the time the car broke down in the middle of their road trip and how Santi had to fix it and how he grumbled the entire time because he was expecting a hotel with a pool and not a dusty road and a punctured tire.

"That reminds me of the time Frankie and I were driving to his parent's house and the car broke down. He started swearing like a sailor and then shut up because he realized that his mom was still on the phone." you laugh.

"Oh, i got a telling off that day." Frankie winces.

"His mom's terrifying." Santi agrees.

``````

The both of you left after dessert, promising them to visit before Frankie started the car and began driving home.

"Faster Francisco, or I'll pee in the goddamn car." you threaten and he laughs but discreetly drives a little faster.

While the food was amazing at the restaurant, the unisex bathrooms were not to your liking, even though you'd begged Frankie to check if they were neat enough, you liked a clean bathroom. Preferably the one in your own house.

Once your reach home and he's safely parked, you fling the door open with a shrill, "Thank you, baby!" as you run inside, unlocking the door impatiently and running upstairs to heaven.

Frankie chuckles as he empties his pockets, his keys, wallet and a few candy wrappers onto the table in the foyer before taking his shoes off and placing them next to yours.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom with a satisfied sigh, your hands carressng your swollen belly.

"Frankie." you coo and he looks at you from his spot on the sofa. You're in your innerwear and again, he thanks whoever is up there for you.

"Yes, mi amor?" he replies, looking at you intently.

You look at your stomach and smile at him. He walks over and places him hands over yours, "Is it a boy?" he kisses your cheek and the both of you snort very unbecomingly. Because its pasta and ice cream and cake, and even if the both of you aren't ready for someone else to be in there yet, you don't want it to be any other way.

He runs his hand over your little food baby and kisses your neck slowly, " I love you."

The little sigh that leaves your mouth in reciprocation to the sensations blooming because of what your man is doing to you is clear as day,

I love you too.

[hannahssimblr]

Later, when darkness has settled and all of our drinks are emptied, I offer to fetch another few bottles from Shane’s room at his mobile home. His place is much closer to this end of the beach than mine or Joe’s, especially since I know a shortcut that takes me through a few medium-spiky bushes and over a broken fence. It’s just a ten minute walk, maybe eight if I’m quick. 

“I can come with you,” Clóda says, “I can help you carry the bottles and all if you want.” And I think that maybe the walk will take more than eight minutes if I take the long way instead. As we walk down the beach together the wind blows gently and pushes her hair all the way out of her face. A nice face. A face I’ve been a bit obsessed with ever since I first saw her serving tables at the boat club in June. I suddenly don’t really know what to say to her in the silence of this empty beach, where there’s just her and me and the flapping of the wind on our clothes and rubbish from the day strewn all over the white sand. 

“Is work busy and all?” I manage, and cringe because it’s a stupid thing to say. 

“Yeah, as busy as it gets now.”

“Where’d you get that job?”

“My dad owns the boat club,” She pauses and there’s a silence that goes on for several seconds, followed by a creeping awkwardness that becomes so intense that it feels static. Neither of us has any idea what to say. I should have come alone, and if I had I’d be halfway there by now, but it’s already too late to turn back and take the shortcut to put us out of our misery.

“Rachel fancies you,” she blurts out, and I look at her in time to see her turn red before turning her face away from me. 

My stomach twists, “Right, okay.”

“Do you fancy her? Because if you do then she wants to know if you’ll shift her.”

Is this why Clóda wanted to walk with me, to ask me this? The thought fills me with such disappointment that I’m of half a mind to turn around and go home for the night. I clear my throat, “Um, no I don't, sorry. She seems nice though.”

“She is nice. And she says that you’re fine.”

“Well, thanks,” I glance at her, “You don’t think I’m fine, no?”

A little smile creeps up, “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Do you think I’m fine?”

“Yeah I do actually,” I say. “I think you’re really fine.”

This shocks a laugh out of her, “Wow, you just went and said it.”

“Would you rather I was more awkward about it?”

“I dunno.”

“See I’m not very awkward like that.”

“Probably because you don’t have to be.”

I grin and bend to look into her face as we walk, but she’s too shy to meet my eyes. “What does that mean, I ‘don’t have to be’? What do you think of me?”

“I think you were fine before you cut your hair and pierced your ears like a girl,” she says. “And don’t go being all full of yourself, because you’ve a bit of a big nose.”

I laugh, “I can have all those things and you can still like me.”

She stops at the path that leads towards the holiday village, and she’s trembling a little, with excitement, maybe, fear, adrenaline. “I think it’d be bad if I liked you, because Rachel said she liked you first.”

“Why didn’t you let Rachel come and walk with me then?”

She smiles. “Because I didn’t really want her to be on her own with you. Do you think I’m a bad friend for that?”

"She'll recover, I think."

“When I saw you on the tennis courts that first day I thought you were cute.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, “And you’re good at tennis. You’re better than all your friends.”

My palms start to prickle, “and you liked that?”

“I think it’s cool when people are good at stuff.”

I like hearing about when I’m good at stuff, and I like that she’s telling me this now, so much so that my heart is beating faster than it should. I want to ask her about what else she likes about me, what else she thinks I’m good at, but then I think maybe it’d be better if I showed her instead.

I kiss her. 

She is not surprised. She puts her hands in the right place, behind my neck and she tilts her head forty five degrees to the right and she lets me kiss her, her top lip, her bottom lip, and I try to move her with me and create rhythm and melody with our mouths and our bodies but her head is as stiff as the rest of her, and after a minute or two she releases the breath she’s been holding the entire time onto my cheek in a shuddering torrent and I realise that she doesn’t really know what she’s doing.

“Clóda,” I murmur, and I draw back and stroke her cheeks with my thumbs, where her skin is glowing and tinted blue in the moonlight, but my attempts at intimacy suddenly seem too much in contention with her awkward rigidity that I let my hands fall away from her and rest on her hips instead.

“Yes?”

“You’re supposed to kiss back.”

“I was kissing back.”

She was standing still with her mouth open like a baby bird waiting to be fed, but I know it’d be an embarrassing thing to point out to her. 

“Are you nervous?”

“A bit.”

“Can I help?”

She looks down at our feet and pushes her hair behind her ears. “I’ve kissed heaps of boys,” she insists, as though she thinks I’m about to start accusing her of being frigid. “I’m not bad at it.”

“I didn’t say you were bad.”

“I’ve done other things too, by the way.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“I’ve actually done loads. Like, nearly everything.”

“Yeah I believe you. It’s not that, I just think you were- we’re both nervous, okay? Can we go again?”

“Okay.”

“And relax.”

“I am relaxing.”

I drift in closer, “Yes, okay,” my lips graze gently against hers as I speak, and she smells nice, familiar, like coconut suncream and that sweet body spray that all of the girls at school use after P.E class.

She’s tense still, but when I tell her gently to relax she tries to, and the kiss is more pleasant, though she’s giddy now, excited, perhaps about the thought of telling all of her friends about this, and the thought of that alone, just this fantasy that I’ve invented about what she’s going to say about me later puts me off her a bit. 

I draw away from her a bit, but she steps into me keenly, afraid that my kiss will be too fleeting, “you can touch my boob if you want.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, I mean, it’s fine, I’ll let you.”

“Maybe later?”

I’ve offended her now, “Yeah, um, alright then.”

“I hope that’s cool, I’m just kind of in a bit of a rush to get to Shane’s mobile home and all.”

“Yet I get it,” though her hair flip is indignant.

“Do you still want to come? You don’t have to, I don’t mind going on my own.”

She glances over her shoulder down the expanse of the dark beach and shakes her head, “Like, no, it’s fine, we can still go together. We’re probably close to it by now, so…”

“Yeah we are.”

“Okay then,” She folds defensive arms around herself and hikes up the incline towards the village with wind whipping her top around and her heels crushing the backs of her red ballet shoes. 

“I think you’re really pretty,” I say, a bit pathetically to the back of her head. 

“Thanks.”

“Um, and, well if I’ve upset you or something-”

“You’ve not, I’m fine.”

“Alright then,” and she walks two metres ahead of me all the way to the caravan park in stony silence. 

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