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vividseoultales · 14 days ago

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Jealous Much? ( Karina x Male Reader )

tags : fluff smut

Karina's eyes narrowed as she stared at the plate of half-eaten nachos in front of her. The cheese had started to congeal, but she didn't seem to notice. She was too busy picking at the jalapeños with a frustrated air. You watched her, sipping your soda, trying to understand what had brought on this sudden change in mood.

"Look," you said, setting your drink down with a gentle thud. "What's the big deal with me hanging out with Minjeong?"

Karina's glare intensified, and she jabbed a chip into the cheese with a bit more force than necessary. "Drop it" she said, her voice sharp.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of her accusation but refusing to let it drag you down. "Why are you so obsessed with this?" You asked, your voice calm but firm. "It's not like I'm ignoring you."

Karina huffed and pushed the plate away. "It's just… You guys are always laughing together, sharing secrets. It's like she's taking over our friendship." Her words hung in the air, a hint of sadness lacing through the anger.

You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" You said, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and frustration. "You're acting like a kid who can't share their favorite toy."

Without warning, Karina's leg shot out and connected with yours under the table. The sharp kick sent a bolt of pain up your shin, and you winced, your eyes watering slightly. "Ow!" You exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.

The din of the bustling diner grew louder as the couple at the next booth turned to glance over, their whispers of concern cutting through the air. The waitress, a young girl with a pink apron, paused mid-stride with a pot of coffee, her gaze flickering from you to Karina and back again. You offered them an apologetic smile, trying to convey that everything was fine, even though the tension between you two was palpable.

Turning back to Karina, you took a deep breath and spoke firmly but gently. "You need to chill out. This isn't a competition. We're friends, not a couple."

Her eyes flashed, and before you could react, her leg swung out again, delivering a second kick to your shin, this one harder than the first. "It feels like it is!" she snapped.

You flinched and gritted your teeth, not letting the pain show on your face. "Karina, that's not fair," you protested, rubbing your leg.

"Fair?" she spat out the word like it was poison. "How is it fair that she just waltzes in and gets all your attention?" Her voice was louder now, and you could feel the eyes of the diner patrons on you, their curiosity piqued.

Ignoring the stares, you leaned closer to her, keeping your voice low. "You're being ridiculous," you said. "Minjeong and I are just friends. We share the same interests, that's all."

But Karina was already sliding out of the booth, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I can't do this right now," she muttered, grabbing her jacket from the chair next to her. You watched as she shrugged it on, the fabric slipping over her shoulders with a soft rustle.

You mumbled to yourself, "Fuck me," as you rubbed your throbbing shin. You didn't know how the situation had escalated so quickly. You had only been trying to enjoy a casual meal and now, you felt like you were navigating a minefield of unspoken emotions.

The next few days passed with an eerie silence between you and Karina. You've seen her around school, her eyes sliding over you as if you were invisible. It was like the time you forgot her birthday, only this time it was a little more intense. You shrugged it off, chalking it up to one of her mood swings, something you've known for since you two were kids.

But then, the whispers began. They started as a murmur in the hallways, a soft buzz that grew louder until it was all anyone talked about. Karina had started hanging out with Leo, the school's golden boy. He was the kind of guy who could charm a teacher into giving him an A with a single dimpled smile. The kind of guy that had the whole school, especially the girls, eating out of the palm of his hand. And now, it seemed, he was paying special attention to your best friend.

You couldn't blame him for being drawn to her. Karina had always had a penchant for the popular crowd, and with her looks and brains, she fit right in. It was like watching a celebrity couple form right before your eyes. The hallways were ablaze with whispers of "Did you see Karina with Leo?" and "They're so perfect together!" It was nauseating, and you found yourself avoiding the places where you knew they'd be.

But every time you saw them together, laughing and whispering, her arm draped around his, you couldn't help but think—was this Karina's way of getting back at you? A pang of jealousy stabbed through you, sharper than you'd like to admit. You knew you had no right to feel this way, but it was the principle of it all. It felt like she was flaunting her new friendship in your face, as if to say, "Look what I have now!"

So, one day, after school, you decided enough was enough. You marched over to Karina's house, the same house you'd been to a hundred times before, but this time it felt like enemy territory. The walk was short, but it felt like a mile, each step heavier than the last. You knocked on the door with a firmness that matched your resolve. The door swung open to reveal Karina, her eyes widening in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled, her arms crossing over her chest.

You ignored her, stepping into the living room where her parents looked up from their evening TV show with puzzled expressions. "Hey Mr. and Mrs. Yu," you called out, plastering a smile on your face.

"Oh, hi sweetie!" Mrs. Yu exclaimed, setting her knitting aside and rising from the couch. "What a surprise! are you staying over for dinner?"

You nodded politely, keeping your eyes on Karina. "If it's not too much trouble," you said, walking past her into the hallway.

Her mother's footsteps trailed behind you. "Of course not," she called out. "You know you're always welcome."

Mr. Yu's boisterous voice echoed from the living room. "Hey, Y/N! Did you catch the game last night?"

Without missing a beat, you called back, "Nope, but I heard they were going to lose even if I did watch!"

Mr. Yu's laugh boomed through the house. "Always the optimist" he chuckled.

You marched up the stairs, each step a silent challenge to Karina, who followed with a smirk playing on her lips. You knew she thought she had the upper hand, but you weren't about to let this go. You needed to set the record straight.

When you reached her room, you close the door as soon as she enters. You turned to face her, your eyes narrowed. "Enough games," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and determination. "What's going on with you and Leo?"

Karina sat at the edge of her bed, her smirk never wavering. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. "What do you mean?" she asked, playing dumb.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend," you said, your voice tight. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "What's the deal with Leo? You trying to get back at me because I started hanging out with Minjeong?"

Karina's smirk faltered for a moment before she shrugged. "What if I am?" she said, her eyes flashing. "It's not like you've been the best at being a best friend lately."

The words hit you like a slap in the face. You felt your cheeks heat up with a mix of anger and guilt. "What's that supposed to mean?" you demanded, your voice shaking slightly.

Karina's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. "You stupid?" she spat out.

Without thinking, you found yourself stepping closer to her, your hands reaching out and grabbing her wrists. With surprising strength, you pushed her backwards until she toppled onto her bed, your body hovering over hers. "What the hell is your problem?" you hissed, pinning her hands above her head.

Karina's smirk grew wider, and she met your gaze without flinching. "Now you know how it feels" she said, her voice low and mocking.

It was true. You had been so focused on your newfound friendship with Minjeong that you'd neglected Karina. But you hadn't realized the extent of her jealousy until now. She had been trying to get your attention by hanging out with Leo, hoping it would make you feel the same way she felt when she saw you with Minjeong. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt a twinge of regret for not noticing her pain sooner.

With a heavy sigh, you released Karina's wrists and flopped down next to her on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge. "You know," you said, "you really play these games too much."

Karina's smile was a tight line, but her eyes were gleaming with a strange sort of triumph. "At least now you know how I feel," she said, rolling onto her side to face you.

"Don't you dare start dating him," you told her, your voice low and serious. You knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but you needed to lay down the law, to assert some kind of control over the chaos that was your friendship.

Karina's laughter was like a slap to the face. It was light and airy, as if you had said something utterly absurd. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with each mocking giggle. "Leo?" she said, as if his name was a joke. "As if he's my type anyway."

After a few seconds of silence with surprising agility, Karina straddled you, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your face. "Minjeong, do you like her?"

You felt the weight of the question, the way it seemed to hang in the air between you, thick and heavy. "Here we go again" you said, trying to sit up, but she pushed you back down with surprising strength.

"Answer me," Karina demanded, her eyes boring into yours. "Do you like her?"

You swallowed hard, the question echoing in your mind. You had liked hanging out with Minjeong, her laughter infectious and her smile a beacon of light in the dullness of school days. But now, with Karina's hands on your chest, her eyes searching yours, you couldn't help but feel a pang of something else—something that had been there all along but had been overshadowed by the excitement of the new.

"Karina," you began, but she cut you off with a shake of her head.

"Just tell me," she insisted, her grip tightening slightly. "Do you have a crush on Minjeong?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you stared into her eyes. It was true. Minjeong's company had become something you craved, her laughter a melody that filled the quiet spaces in your heart. But with Karina's accusation hanging in the air, you couldn't ignore the conflicted emotions roiling within you. The friendship between you two had always been complex, a tapestry of shared secrets and unspoken feelings that had been stretched thin by the arrival of your new companion.

Without thinking, the words spilled out of your mouth, raw and unfiltered. "I like you more than her, if that's what you want to know," you said, your voice barely a whisper. Karina's expression froze, a mix of surprise and satisfaction.

For a moment, she didn't move, just stared at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. Then, she leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "Prove it," she murmured, her voice a challenge.

You felt the heat from her body and the sudden closeness was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had never felt this way before, not with your best friend, not with anyone. But here you were, your heart racing as she waited for your response.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled Karina close, so that your foreheads touched, and your breaths mingled. "There's no going back after this," you whispered, your voice a mix of determination and fear.

Her smile grew, and she nodded, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. "There never was," she said, her voice filled with a strange sort of relief.

And then, without any more hesitation, you leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, tentative press of your lips to hers, a question and an answer all rolled into one. Karina's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in deeper, her mouth moving against yours with a hunger that took you by storm. Her kiss was demanding, insistent, and you responded in kind, your arms wrapping around her waist as she deepened the kiss.

Her hands slid up your chest and tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you felt yourself melting into her touch. It was overwhelming, the passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for who knows how long. It was like she had been waiting for this moment, craving it, and now that it was here, she was consuming you whole. You could feel the years of tension and unspoken feelings coiling around you, tightening like a spring ready to snap.

You guided her hips, pressing them down to grind against your own, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. It was a dance you had never done before, but it felt natural, like you had been practicing for this moment without knowing it. Your hands roamed over her body, learning every curve and dip, every inch of her that you had never been allowed to explore before.

Karina's eyes were closed, her breath coming in quick pants as she moved against you. The sound of your kisses filled the room, a cacophony of passion that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. You could feel her heart racing beneath her ribs, the rapid beat matching the rhythm of your own. Her legs were wrapped around you now, pulling you closer, and you knew that this was it—the moment that would change everything.

But just as your hands found the hem of her shirt, a voice pierced the bubble of your intimacy. "Y/N, Karina dinner's ready!" Mrs. Yu's call echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell that had been woven around you both.

You pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, staring at Karina's flushed face. "Guess I'm having you for dessert instead" you murmured, the words a promise and a tease. Karina's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk.

"You're terrible," she said, rolling off you and smoothing down her shirt. But she didn't look away from you, her gaze holding yours, a silent understanding passing between you.

With a smug smile, you pushed yourself up from the bed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for one more kiss. It was deeper this time, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass playfully. Karina giggled against your lips, the sound muffled by the pressure of your mouth on hers.

You felt a thrill rush through you as you broke the kiss, your hand lingering on the soft curve of her body. You knew this was crossing lines, but the heat of the moment was too intense to resist. "Dinner's waiting," you murmured, as the both of you go down to eat.

The dinner was a tense affair, with Mr. and Mrs. Yu's oblivious chatter filling the void that had been left by your silent glances. You couldn't help but feel the electricity between you, the way your legs brushed together under the table and the occasional hand that reached for a serving spoon that was just a little too far. Every move felt loaded with meaning, every gesture a silent promise of what was to come.

After dinner, Karina's parents retreated to their favorite show, leaving the two of you to clean up. You grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a plate, trying to ignore the racing of your heart. Karina was by your side, her movements efficient as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

As you finished the last plate and handed it over to her, you couldn't help but glance into the living room. The flicker of the TV screen cast shadows on Mr. and Mrs. Yu's faces, their attention fully absorbed in whatever drama unfolded before them. The sound of laugh tracks and commercial jingles floated through the air, a stark contrast to the silence in the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to Karina, feeling the heat from her body. She stiffened slightly, her eyes meeting yours in surprise, before a knowing smile curled on her lips. You reached around her, your hand brushing against her stomach, and pulled her closer. With a gentle nudge, you pressed your crotch against her ass, feeling the softness of her curves through the fabric of her shorts.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned back into you, her body responding to your touch. You felt a thrill of power, of desire, as you began to move against her, your hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm. The sound of the TV grew distant, the laughter of the sitcom audience a faint backdrop to the symphony of your ragged breaths. Your hand slid up to cup her breast, and she arched her back, pushing into your palm.

With a whispered word that sent shivers down your spine, she suggested, "Let's go back to my room." You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your heart hammering in your chest. The kitchen light glinted off the clean dishes as you turned off the faucet and dried your hands, leaving the sponge in the sink. Hand in hand, you tiptoed out of the kitchen, trying not to alert her parents to the shift in the atmosphere.

The door to Karina's room clicked shut behind you, and you felt a rush of excitement mingled with nerves. This was new territory for both of you, but the desire that had been simmering between you was now a roaring fire. You didn't waste any time; with a gentle shove, you pushed her onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest. She landed with a soft bounce, her hair fanning out around her head like a fiery halo. Her eyes danced with challenge, daring you to take the next step.

With trembling hands, you reached for the hem of her shorts, sliding them down her legs with a slowness that was almost painful. Each inch of skin revealed was a treasure, a piece of her that you hadn't seen before, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her bare thighs. As the fabric hit the floor, she kicked her legs free, and your gaze was drawn to the lacy panties that barely contained her. You felt your mouth go dry, and your heart thumped in your chest like a drum.

With a smoldering look, Karina hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, revealing herself to you inch by inch. You watched, transfixed, as the fabric fell away, exposing the soft mound of her sex, glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. The sight was almost too much to bear, and you had to clench your fists to keep from reaching for her.

Your cock was already straining against your pants, eager to claim what it had desired for so long. You stepped closer to the bed, your hand shaking slightly as you undid your fly and pulled out your erection. It bobbed before you, a testament to the passion that burned within you.

Karina's eyes darkened as she watched you, her own desire mirrored in the way she licked her lips. "Take me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "Make me fucking yours"

You didn't need another invitation. You climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. The scent of her arousal filled the room, making your mouth water and your cock ache. You leaned down to kiss her, your hands sliding up her body to cup her breasts, feeling the hardness of her nipples against your palms. She arched into your touch, her legs spreading wider, silently begging for you to fill her.

With one hand, you guided your cock to her slick entrance, feeling the warmth of her against the sensitive head. The anticipation was killing you, and you had to fight the urge to plunge into her right away. Instead, you slid in slowly, feeling the tightness of her pussy give way to you inch by agonizing inch. She moaned into your mouth, her nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, feeling her body stretch to accommodate you.

The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before—hot, wet, and so incredibly tight. You had to pause for a moment to get used to the feeling, to savor the way she felt around you. Then, you pulled back slightly before pushing in again, a little harder, a little faster. Karina's legs tightened around your waist, urging you on, her hips rising to meet each of your thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a primal beat that matched the thunder of your heart.

Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and she moaned with each stroke. You leaned down to kiss her neck, your teeth grazing the soft skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now, and you could feel her body tense beneath you. You knew she was close, and the thought of making her come, of being the one to push her over that edge, was almost more than you could handle.

You picked up the pace, driving into her harder, faster, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The bed creaked in protest, but you didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the feel of her, the tight grip of her pussy, the way her body responded to your every move. You slid your hand down her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver and jump beneath your fingertips, until you found her clit. With a gentle touch, you began to rub it in slow circles, matching the rhythm of your hips.

Karina's moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged pants. You could feel the tension building inside her, her muscles tightening around your cock like a vice. You watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered open and shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries. You knew you had her, that you were in control of her pleasure. The thought was intoxicating, making you want to push her further, to see just how much you could make her beg.

With each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your orgasm building like a storm in your balls. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. But you held back, waiting for her, determined to make sure she came first. Your thumb flicked over her clit faster, the wet sound of your skin on hers driving you wild. Her hips bucked against you, her breath hitching in her throat.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open, locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. "Y/N," she moaned, her voice tight with pleasure. "I'm going to come."

It was all the encouragement you needed. You slammed into her faster and harder, feeling her body tense up, her muscles spasm around you. Then she was screaming your name, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. Her pussy clamped down on your cock, sending waves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you couldn't hold on much longer.

With one final, desperate thrust, you buried yourself inside her, letting go with a roar. Your cum spurted out, filling her up, marking her as yours. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful, and you collapsed onto her, your breathing ragged and uneven. Karina's legs tightened around you, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing and the thud of your hearts beating together. Then, Karina's arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer. "This took way too long to finally happen" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. You couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of the moment dissipating into a warm, fuzzy glow.

As you both caught your breath, you looked down at her, her eyes groggy and a serene smile on her lips. The sight was so beautiful it took your breath away. You kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her, the way she felt beneath you. The reality of what had just happened was setting in, but you didn't feel guilty or confused. You felt…right.

"You know," Karina began, her voice still a little shaky from her orgasm, "I can't wait to go to school tomorrow and show everyone how much of a clingy girlfriend I'm going to be." She giggled, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You groaned, burying your face in her neck. "Don't you dare," you murmured, your voice muffled by her skin. The thought of the school knowing about you two was both exhilarating and terrifying. But Karina didn't seem to care. She was already planning your love story for the world to see.

#kpop fanfic #smut #gg smut #kpop smut #aespa smut #karina smut #male reader smut

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rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago

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i’m actually obsessed with all your works pls i need more ceo!rafe and sweetheart!reader, maybe something with their kids??? you’re actually amazing 🙇‍♀️

Office visit || CEO!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: thank u for the request xx

Warnings: use of daddy and mommy but not in a sexual way 😭

Word count: 2,002

MASTERLIST (CEO!Rafe au masterlist)

“What do you boys want to do after this?” you ask, glancing back at Luca and Kai as they focus on their ice creams. The two of them sit on the edge of the bench outside the tennis club, still buzzing with energy after their lesson. The faint scent of sunscreen lingers, and their flushed cheeks tell the story of a morning well spent.

Kai pauses mid-bite, his little tongue darting out to catch a melting drip before it slides down his cone. His brows knit in concentration as he thinks, his chocolate-streaked fingers almost comically poised. Luca, always the quieter of the two, finishes his bite and watches his brother, waiting to see what he’ll suggest.

You reach over and smooth Kai’s tousled hair, the strands damp from sweat and the summer heat. “What about…” you trail off, pulling your phone from your bag to check the time. It’s just past noon, and an idea sparks. “How about we go and see Daddy at his office for lunch?”

Both boys instantly straighten, their eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes! Yes!” they exclaim in perfect unison, their voices loud enough to draw amused glances from a passing couple. Kai bounces slightly in his seat, and Luca’s smile stretches wide, making your heart melt.

“Alright, finish up your ice creams first, and then I’ll make a quick call to see if he’s free,” you say, chuckling at their eagerness. You bend down to zip up their small tennis bags, tucking away their water bottles and rackets. Their names are embroidered neatly on the sides of their bags, a gift from Rafe when they started lessons last year.

Sliding your phone out again, you scroll to Rafe’s assistant, Rachael, and hit call. It barely rings once before her bright, professional voice answers. “Hi, Mrs. Cameron! How are you?” “Hi, Rachael,” you greet warmly, stepping a little away from the boys, who are now energetically debating whether they should bring Daddy a surprise snack. “Does Rafe have any meetings or calls in the next hour or so? The boys want to see him, and I thought we could bring lunch.”

“Let me check for you,” Rachael replies. You can hear the soft tapping of keys as she looks at his schedule. “You’re in luck—he’s free until 2 p.m. today!” “Perfect,” you reply with a relieved smile, already picturing Rafe’s reaction. “We’ll be there soon. Thanks, Rachael.” “Of course! See you soon,” she says, and you hang up, sliding the phone back into your bag.

Turning back to Luca and Kai, you find them eagerly finishing their ice creams, their little legs swinging excitedly beneath the bench. “Okay, it’s all set. Daddy’s free, so we’re heading to his office. But first, wipe those sticky hands!” you tease, handing them some napkins. They giggle as they clean up, practically bouncing with excitement as they climb into the backseat of the car.

You secure their tennis bags in the boot and slide into the driver’s seat, glancing in the rearview mirror to see their gleaming faces. As you pull out of the car park, their excited chatter fills the car. “Do you think Daddy will let us sit at his desk like last time?” Kai asks. “Maybe we can help him work!” Luca chimes in, his voice hopeful.

You laugh, your heart full as you drive toward Rafe’s office. “Let’s see how much work Daddy gets done with you two around,” you joke, feeling a surge of warmth at the thought of surprising him with his two biggest fans.

The second you parked your car in the reserved spot beside Rafe’s sleek black car, Luca and Kai were out of their seats in a flash. “Wait for me!” you called, though you already knew your words would be ignored. You watched with a mix of amusement and exasperation as the two bolted toward the glass sliding doors, their laughter echoing through the underground parking lot.

“No running inside, please!” you called after them, quickly grabbing your bag and locking the car. Your heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement as you hurried to catch up. By the time you reached the doors, Steve, the ever-friendly security guard stationed by the front entrance, was already greeting them. “Well, hello, Luca and Kai!” he said with a broad smile, his weathered face lighting up at the sight of the energetic boys.

“Hi, Steve!” they chorused, their voices loud and cheerful before they darted further into the building. You reached Steve just in time to catch his amused chuckle. “And hello to you, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted warmly, his tone respectful yet familiar. “Hi, Steve,” you replied with a smile, placing a light hand on his arm. “How’s Margaret doing?” you asked, genuinely curious about his wife.

“She’s doing well, thank you,” Steve replied with a proud nod, the lines around his eyes crinkling with warmth. “That’s wonderful to hear,” you said softly, offering a kind smile before glancing ahead to see Luca and Kai at the front desk, already reaching for the small bowl of lollies. “I’d better catch up with them before they cause too much trouble. See you later, Steve!”

“Have a good visit, Mrs. Cameron,” he called after you with a wave as you made your way inside. The front desk staff greeted you with bright smiles as you approached. “Hello, Mrs. Cameron!” Jake, one of the receptionists, said cheerfully. You chuckled softly, smoothing Luca’s hair as he eagerly unwrapped a lollipop. “I hope these two aren’t bothering you too much,” you joked.

“Not at all,” Jake replied with a grin, glancing down at the boys. “They always bring a little extra energy to the office.”“Well, that they do,” you said, shaking your head fondly as Kai offered Jake a gummy bear from his stash. “Alright, boys, let’s not take all the lollies.” Luca and Kai quickly popped the last of their treats into their mouths and followed you toward the elevator, their small feet pattering against the polished floors.

As the elevator arrived, a group of Rafe’s staff stepped out, their chatter pausing as they noticed you and the boys. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cameron,” one of them greeted, while another bent down to fist bump Luca and Kai. “Good afternoon,” you replied, nodding politely as the boys giggled, clearly thrilled by the attention.

You guided them into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where Rafe’s office was located. The doors closed, and the boys glanced up at you, their excitement bubbling over. “Do you think Daddy will be surprised?” Luca asked, his voice full of anticipation.

“I think he’ll be very happy to see you,” you assured them, adjusting the strap of your bag as the elevator hummed softly. As the elevator ascended, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, already picturing the look on Rafe’s face when he saw his two little boys storming into his office like it was theirs.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, revealing the sleek, modern design of Rafe’s executive floor. The expansive space was quiet, save for the faint hum of activity from his staff in the open office areas. Luca and Kai immediately bolted out of the elevator, their small sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floors as they made a beeline for Rafe’s corner office.

“Boys, wait!” you called, your voice firm but amused as you followed them at a brisk pace, your heels clicking against the floor. You exchanged polite smiles and greetings with passing employees, most of whom glanced at the boys with fond amusement. It wasn’t the first time Luca and Kai had stormed through these halls like a whirlwind.

By the time you reached Rafe’s office, the boys had already pushed the heavy door open just enough to slip inside. You caught up just in time to see them racing toward Rafe’s large mahogany desk. Rafe was seated behind it, his brow furrowed as he reviewed a stack of papers. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the sharp lines of his face, but the moment he heard the familiar sound of his sons’ excited giggles, his head snapped up.

“Daddy!” Luca and Kai shouted in unison, running around the desk to get to him. Rafe’s expression softened instantly, his serious demeanour melting away as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, what’s this?” he asked, his lips curving into a smile. He opened his arms just in time for the boys to climb onto his lap, their chatter filling the room.

“We came to surprise you!” Kai exclaimed, wrapping his small arms around Rafe’s neck. “Did you now?” Rafe replied, his tone warm as he ruffled Kai’s hair. He glanced over the boys’ heads to see you standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on your face as you watched the scene unfold. “And you brought reinforcements, I see.”

You chuckled, stepping further into the room. “They insisted. It was either this or trying to sneak into your meetings.” “Good call,” Rafe said with a smirk, shifting Luca onto his other knee. “You two behaving for Mommy?” Luca nodded earnestly, though the mischievous glint in his eyes made Rafe arch a brow. “Mostly,” you teased, leaning against the edge of his desk.

“Mostly?” Rafe echoed, giving them both a mock stern look that made Kai giggle. “We were good, Daddy!” Kai insisted, throwing his arms out dramatically. “I’ll take your word for it,” Rafe replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Kai’s head before glancing at you. “Thank you for bringing them. This is the best kind of interruption.”

“They wanted to see you,” you said softly, your heart warming at the sight of Rafe with the boys. “And they may have bribed the front desk staff with gummy bears on the way up.” Rafe laughed, his deep, rich tone filling the office. “Sounds about right. So, what’s the plan now, little troublemakers?” “Lunch with you!” Luca declared, leaning against his father’s chest.

“Lunch, huh?” Rafe looked between them, feigning thought. “Well, I think I can make that happen. What do you guys feel like eating?” “Pizza!” Kai shouted, while Luca chimed in with, “Burgers!” Rafe glanced at you, his grin widening. “Guess we’re having both.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll call get Rachael to call the kitchen while you catch up with your boys.”

As you stepped aside to make the call, you couldn’t help but glance back at them—Rafe, with his arms full of Luca and Kai, looking more at ease than you’d seen him in weeks. Moments like these made all the chaos worthwhile.

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saetiate · 2 months ago

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pov you and sae's daughter pranks that she has a boyfriend when really she's just playing love and deepspace, featuring overprotective rin. word count: 1k. itoshi sae x f!reader and you're married and rin and reader are close friends

"I have a boyfriend."

There's a beat of silence, two, as your daughter stares at Sae. He barely glances up from where he's making two hot cups of tea at the kitchen counter. "Okay."

"Dad, I'm serious."

He nods, tea leaves carefully strained in his hand. "Okay."

"Is that all you have to say?"

He watches as the color seeps into the water, and offhandedly wonders whether this conversation really has to interrupt his tea-making. She could be interrupting an event. Or an interview.

"Is there something I'm supposed to say?"

"I don't know?? Like — Who is he? What's his name? Does he treat you well?"

"Who is he. What's his name. Does he treat you well."

His deadpan tone clearly doesn't entertain, as his daughter all but collapses onto the kitchen counter.

"Y'know, this is why nobody likes you."

"Your mom likes me." It's true. Probably. There's two cups of tea on the counter, after all. You'll at least love him when he hands you one.

"I heard mom call you a frigid bitch with her friend the other day."

"That's nice of her."

Steam billows into the air as Rin swipes down the stairs and pads through the kitchen, frowning at the sink before rolling his sleeves up, soap bubbling up the sponge that froths in his hand.

And like the little fox she is, she sets her sights on a new target with a wicked grin.

"Rin-niisan,” there’s an airy, sing-song tune to her voice, but all it grants her is a vaguely annoyed look. Even she’s surprised at his lack of danger sense, like maybe this man needs to be studied. “I have a boyfriend."

A plate slips in Rin's hand, clanging on its descent. "Ha?"

He flips around, hands still elbow-deep in the sink. "What? What are you telling me for?" He juts his chin out to Sae. "Say something."

Sae just raises an eyebrow that earns a tch from Rin. The sink turns on, then shuts off, then turns on again, as if exposing how Rin's mind runs.

"Bring him over."

It sounds like a perfectly innocent statement, except for the way Rin's voice lowers, his gaze turned cutting behind his fringe.

That has both Sae and your daughter straightening. "He's probably just a kid," Sae reassures.

"Doesn't matter." A plate screeches as it's dropped into the drying rack. "Bring him over."

Sae thinks he just watched his daughter regret the entire conversation in one fell swoop. Maybe she shouldn't have brought it up, if just for the mysterious boyfriend's preservation, or the sanctity of his ego before Rin hits him with his intent-to-kill.

"What's going on?" Your slippers slide across the tile, the tell-tale sign of a savior.

"Your kid has a boyfriend." Rin lectures quickly, as if there's finally a real adult here to handle the situation.

"What?" You almost trip as you skid across the floor, and Sae moves to stabilize you with ease.

"What did you say?" You turn to Sae in a hushed tone that everyone can hear.

"I said okay."

You blink at him. He blinks at you back.

"Okay?"

Your daughter swings her phone to point at Sae. "I told you you're supposed to say something."

"It's fine," you wave his nonchalance away, "I'll set the precedent then. What's his name? What's he like? Does he treat you well? Wait, you told Rin before me?" You turn to Rin, "What did you say?"

"Rin wants to kill him." Both Sae and your daughter say in unison.

Rin shrugs in your direction. "At least I said something."

"I knew it was coming." Sae hits back easily.

"You knew?" You ask with a tone like it's an allegation and Sae wonders if maybe this is the time to give you that tea. "What are you, some kind of prophet? Tell us the lottery numbers next."

"She's been smiling at her phone. I figured she'd tell us when she was ready."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Okay! No murder, no boyfriend!" Your daughter claps. "This was all a prank! I was just joking!"

There's another clank into the sink as Rin groans. At this point, Sae's not sure if the dishes will make it past this conversation.

"Then what's on your phone?"

"I started playing this otome game — Look! It even has an introduce to the parents function!"

Sae takes the phone from her hands as she shows you both, which she allows disgruntledly.

"Mm. He's very polite." He hands the phone back to her.

Rin looks over your daughter's shoulder, hands still dotted with soap, then scoffs. "So a virtual boyfriend? He doesn't even look real."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "I think that's the point. I used to play one of those too."

"You. Played a game with a virtual boyfriend." It's almost a question, Sae's hand sliding across the countertop. "Was this when we were dating?"

"Oh, so that you react to?" Your daughter huffs.

"I think a 'virtual boyfriend' is a little much. I played a video game."

"A dating video game." Your daughter wiggles her eyebrows at you. "That simulates dates." She looks at Sae pointedly. "It's immersive."

Her magic works on him a little too well, because subtle concern fills his face. "How immersive?"

You give him an incredulous look. "He's not even real."

"Give it to me." Sae makes a give-it-here gesture to your daughter's phone, which she of course responds with by holding it closer to her chest. Because she's a teenager. Her phone is sacred. "What else does he say?"

"You know what, dad. I suddenly have had a change of heart. I think we should aaall pretend I didn't say anything."

Rin almost snorts, the kitchen towel flung through his hands before being put meticulously back over the handle. "You should've thought of that before."

"I'm just tryna lighten the mood out here! Jeez, you're all so serious."

"Rin almost went to jail for what you just said." You jab.

"Or your parents could've gotten divorced." Rin bats back.

"Nobody is getting divorced." The side-eye Sae gives Rin is lethal. "Don't joke about that."

Oh. That reminds him. He takes both mugs and hands you one.

"Wah, thank you!" You get on your tippy-toes as you press a kiss to his cheek, your smile so wide it makes him give you a shy little upturn of his mouth back. "I love you."

Sae turns and pointedly looks straight at his kid. She rolls her eyes.

credits to tangerinedarker on ao3 for calling sae a frigid bitch in their various fics, i thought that was hilarious and it lives in my head rent free HAHA

in my mind reader called her friend to tell them after bachira texts her “how’s your frigid bitch of a husband” bc in tangerinedarker’s chat fic bachira was the one that came up w the nickname :D

#told the room i'd write a fun fic and i delivered YAYAY :D posting this before i get shy and running WAHH HAHA #TRIED MY HAND at something easygoing and i am . mmm both happy and a little shy over it HAHAHA #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #x reader #fragments of memories #fragments of memories: ficlet #fragments: bllk #fragments: bllk: sae #fragments: bllk: rin

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zoro-sremedy · 1 month ago

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THAT'S WHAT I WANT!

Look, you know it's harder to find in these times But I got nothing but love on my mind (my mind) I need a baby with love in my prime

Synopsis. You tell them they're the prettiest, bestest boys.

Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Shiu, Nobara and Shoko as special guests.

WARNING? fluff, maybe something suggestive, you guys only like smut like c'mon this is cute, some swearing? I don't remember. Sukuna's may or may not be weird, enjoy it anyways lmao

A/N: y'all know the drill, the text thread:

COME SAY IT TO MY FACE, PRETTY

GOJO SATORU—"YOU CAME TO SEE ME?"

You knock once before letting yourself in, and predictably, he's already halfway out of his chair like he's been pacing in anticipation. Gojo Satoru—stronger sorcerer alive, Six Eyes activated, infinity flexed like it's a second skin—looks like he's about to faint from excitement.

"You actually came," he breathes dramatically, hands on his hips like he's witnessing a miracle. "To tell me I'm pretty. In person. I'm honored."

You close the door behind you, lips twitching. "Don't make it weird."

"Oh no," he says, stepping closer, "I'm making it so weird." He's already leaning in, all six feet and whatever of pure cocky chaos towering over you with a twinkle in his eye.

"So? Let me hear it again."

You roll your eyes, stepping into his space anyway, palms flat against his chest. "You're really, really pretty," you murmur. "Like… ruin-me-for-anyone-else level pretty."

Gojo goes stock still for a moment. Then:

"Marry me."

You snort. "You'd propose over a compliment."

"Baby, I'd propose over less. I almost proposed when you brought me coffee that one time."

Before you can respond, he dips down and kisses you—eager, grinning against your lips, like he's been waiting all day for an excuse. His hands frame your face with surprising gentleness, even as he walks you back until your hips hit the desk.

The kiss is slow, deepens, his forehead resting against yours. "You really mean it?" he asks softly, brushing your hair back. "That I'm… y'know. Pretty?"

Your fingers curl in his collar. "You're beautiful, Satoru."

He melts—literally melts—into a puddle of pleased energy, groaning like he's physically pained by the sweetness. Then he's kissing you again, open-mouthed and greedy, mumbling something like, "you have no ides what that does to me," between kisses.

And just like that, the office is full of soft sighs, rustling papers, and Gojo whispering praise right back into your mouth like he's trying to one-up you.

Spoiler: he can't. But he sure as hell tries.

GETO SUGURU—"DISRESPECTFULLY PRETTY"

You don't knock. You never knock anymore.

The door swings open like it's been waiting, warmth spilling out of Geto's apartment along with the earthy, calming scent of tea and whatever incense he lit just to show off. Probably sandalwood. Definitely smug.

And there he is.

Geto Suguru, all soft shadows and dangerous calm, draped in a loose robe and nothing underneath, collarbone on sinful display, hair still damp from a shower. It cascades down one shoulder in thick, dark waves, a few strands clinging to his neck like they missed the towel.

You freeze in the doorway, not even trying to hide your stare.

"See," you murmur under your breath, loud enough for him to hear, "disrespectfully pretty."

His gaze lifts slowly from the book in his lap, mouth quirking up like he knew exactly what effect he'd have on you. Smirk. Smirk.

"I thought you were kidding about coming over just to insult me," he says, voice soft and warm with amusement.

"I said bite," you correct, already shedding your jacket. "Not insult."

"Mmm." He sets his book aside as you close the distance. "Then I suppose I should apologize—"

"You're not sorry."

"No," he admits smoothly. "Not even a little."

Your knees hit the edge of the couch, and he opens his arms in quiet invitation. You don't hesitate. You slide right into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, hands sliding into that perfect, soft hair like you've done a hundred times in your head and only a few in real life.

"So what's the verdict?" he hums. "Prettier in person?"

You lean in, close enough your breath touches his lips. "Absolutely disgusting how pretty you are."

And before he can make another smart remark, you bite his bottom lip. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him feel it—just a nip, a warning, something to make him still beneath you.

"Ah," he exhales, the smile never leaving. "Dangerous girl."

"You smirked."

"And you liked it."

He surges forward, mouth claiming yours with slow-burning heat, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other slips under your shirt at the small of your back. You melt into it, fingers twisting in his hair, legs pulling him closer like instinct. His lips are soft but deep, greedy—but never rough. Just enough pressure to make your pulse stutter.

“I like when you say pretty things,” he murmurs against your temple. “But I like them better in person.”

You turn your head to face him, your knees bracketing his hips, and whisper, “You gonna let me braid your hair later?”

His smile softens. “Only if you stay the night.”

And you kiss him—right then and there, in the quiet, candle-glow room with the softest, most dangerous man you know—because how could you not?

NANAMI KENTO— "SOMETHING SWEET"

Nanami always knocks. Three solid, polite raps before he lets himself in, every time. He does it now, even though you said the door would be open. Even though he's here at your request. Even though you texted "come say thank you in person" like it was nothing, like it didn't send a rare flick of anticipation through his otherwise steady routine.

You meet him at the door, beaming, hoodie-swallowed and barefoot.

"You brought pastries," you note with a grin, pointing at the box.

"You said you liked the ones from the café near the office."

You had said that once. A passing comment, weeks ago.

He set the box down on the kitchen counter while you bounce behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

"You remembered," you murmur, face pressed against his back, smelling the comfort of his smell.

"I remember what's important," he says quiet and honest.

You nuzzle into him from behind, arms slipping around his waist. "That's hot."

He huffs, lips twitching. "You're incorrigible."

"Am I wrong?"

He turns, slowly, placing his hands lightly on your waist. You're still grinning up at him, unashamed.

"No," he admits after a beat, brushing a hand down your back, gentle and firm. "But you do fluster me more than I care to admit."

You press a kiss to his cheek—just shy of the corner of his mouth.

"Good."

And then his hand slides to your jaw. Not rushed. Not forceful. Just decisive. His thumb strokes the skin just beneath your ear as he leans in. His mouth meets yours like he's tasting something rare—like you're another thing he intends to memorize. It's tender, but deeper than the first kiss should be, and your knees almost give at how good it feels to be handled with that kind of control.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless.

“You brought sweets,” you whisper.

“Yes.”

“But you’re the one who tastes good.”

He sighs. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe,” you grin, tugging him by the tie. “But I’ll make it sweet.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI— "THE HAND THAT HOLDS YOU"

You're curled on the couch when Toji arrives, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, a half-finished mug of the tea on the table. The front door shuts with a soft thunk, and heavy footstep draw closer—but he doesn't say anything when he sees you.

Just stands there. Looking at you.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

He shrugs out of his jacket and steps into your space like he can't help it, like he's being pulled. "You don't text me like that often."

You smile. "It wasn't meant to be dramatic."

"It wasn't. Just…" he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Caught me off guard."

You reach for his hand without asking. It's warm, scarred, large—so big your fingers can't even wrap around his palm completely. You lift it to your lips and kiss his knuckles.

"I meant it," you say, eyes soft. "I love these hands. Not just what they do to me—but what they mean. You always show up for me with them. You always hold me."

Toji looks down at you like he's not sure what to do with that. His usual smirk flickers but doesn't land. Instead, his fingers flex around yours, gripping just a little tighter.

"You're really trying to make me soft tonight, huh," he murmurs.

"You already are," you whisper, tugging him down to sit beside you.

He does. His arm snakes around your shoulders, your legs end up draped across his lap, and he sinks into the couch like it's the first time he's able to breathe all day. For a moment, neither of you speak. You just rest your head against him, and he runs his hand up and down your back—slow, steady, reassuring.

"You make it easy," he finally says.

"What?"

"Being good. Trying to be… I don't know. A better version of me. You make it feel like maybe I deserve that."

You smile against his chest. "You do."

He leans down and kisses your temple.

And then, after a beat, he mutters, "Still wouldn't mind using these hands for other things, though."

You burst out laughing, smacking his chest. "There's the Toji I know."

"Hey," he says, shrugging with a half-smile, "you started it."

SHIU KONG—"SAY IT AGAIN"

Shiu's always been a complicated man. Cynical. Cold on the outside. Hot as hell in a fight. Impossible to read unless you knew him like you did—like someone who peeled back the armor over time and kissed the bruises underneath.

Which is why when you told him, in the softest voice, "I think you're a good man, Shiu," he blinked like you'd slapped him with a flower.

"You tryna make me throw up?" he muttered. But his hand didn't move from where it curled around yours.

"No," you said, smiling up at him, "I'm trying to say thank you. I see you. You pretend you're not soft but… you kinda are. For the people you care about. For me.

He scoffed, not meeting your eyes. "Soft? Sweetheart, I once broke a man's wrist for using my favorite ashtray."

"And you tucked me in when I was sick last month."

"…That never happened."

"You made me tea."

"That was for me. You just happened to be sick."

You leaned into him, pressing your face to his shoulder. "You keep pretending you don't care. But you do. You care so much."

His breath caught.

You felt it—for just a second—his entire body going still. Like your words landed too deep, in a part of him he'd forgotten how to guard. His hand tightened on your thigh. Then, a muttered, gruff: "You're lucking you're cute."

"I know."

A beat . Then quieter: "You really think that? That I'm good?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

He looked at you finally, something vulnerable flickering under the sarcasm. "Say it again."

You cupped his cheek, smiled, and whispered, "you're a good man, Shiu."

He kissed you before you even finish that sentence—slow, heated, grateful, like he didn't know what to do with all that affection except press it into your lips, your skin, the places you always let him in.

And if he ended up pulling you into his lap and refusing to let you go for the rest of the night?

Well. Feelings were a crime, and Shiu Kong was officially guilty as hell.

RYOMEN SUKUNA— "ON HIS THRONE"

The throne room is empty save for him, draped in night and firelight. Ryomen Sukuna sits on his obsidian throne like he was carved into it—legs spread wide, arms resting on the jagged ends like a deity expecting tribute. His crown of marks glows faintly, like embers not yet cooled.

You step in with bare feet and a pounding heart, your breath caught somewhere between fear and awe.

He doesn't move. He waits.

You drop to your knees before him.

"Say it," Sukuna commands. His voice rumble through the walls, low and hungry. "Tell me what I am."

You meet his gaze, eyes soft but unflinching. "You're power. Destruction. Fire. But when you touch me, you're home."

He inhales sharply through his nose—just once—and then leans forward like the beast is barely caged.

"Again."

"You're my king," you whisper. "My ruin, my temple. I worship you with everything I am."

He growls low in his chest, and in one swift motion, grabs your chin—not roughly, but firmly enough that your breath stutter—and guides you to your feet only to pull you onto his lap, sideways across his thighs. The throne creaks beneath the movement, but neither of you care.

Your hands rest against his chest, heartbeat staccato. His hand stays on your chin as his eyes roam your face like he's trying to etch every soft part of you into the stone of his memory.

"I don't understand you," Sukuna murmurs, voice rough, forehead pressing to yours. "You kneel like a devotee and sit on my throne like a queen. You bow to me, but it's you who ruins me."

You smile softly. "Good."

He chuckles darkly, then grabs your waist with one hand, the other cradling the back of your head as he kisses you—open mouthed, almost desperate. There's bloodlust in it, yes, but also devotion. A barbaric kind of worship.

When he pulls away, his thumb brushes your lower lip. "You don't bow to me because you fear me. You bow because you choose to. And that…" His voice drops, teeth grazing your throat, "is the only thing more addictive than power."

You settle against him as he leans back, content—for now—to keep you right there on his throne, wrapped in him, like you were made for no other purpose.

ITADORI YUJI— "HUG TAX"

You find him in the common room, hunched over a takeout container and still visibly pink in the cheeks. His hair's a mess, and he's wearing that oversized hoodie you definitely stope from him once but somehow he stole back.

The moment he sees you, Yuji lights up—then instantly hides his face behind his hands.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Too cute. I'm not ready."

You laugh, walking over and kneeling next to the couch. "You've had like twenty minutes to process one compliment."

"That's not enough time!" he protest, voice muffled by his palms. "You called me the most huggable person in the universe. That's heavy. There are like… aliens out there, probably."

"You're cuter than aliens," you shrug casually, settling in beside him. "Also, I'm here to collect my hug tax."

He peeks at you through his fingers. "There's a hug tax?"

"There is now."

Yuji drops his hands with a resigned little groan—but it turns into a goofy smile as you climb onto the couch beside him and wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest. His arms come around you like instinct, big and warm and just the tiniest bit shaky.

"You're seriously gonna kill me one day with all this affection," he mumbles into your hair.

"Happy to be the cause of death."

He laughs—really laughs—and pulls you closer, squeezing tight.

"God, I love you."

You grin into his hoodie. "You'd better."

He huffs a bashful little chuckle and rests his chin on top your head. "Still can't believe I'm the most huggable in the universe though. That's like…. A lot of responsibility."

"You're doing a perfect job."

And he holds you a little tighter, glowing so hard you're surprised the room doesn't burst into light.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI — "DISASTER BOYFRIEND, SOFT HEART"

You do not listen to him and absolutely show up at his door.

He opens it, hoodie half-zipped, hair pushed back messily like he's run a hand through it a dozen times since your text—and his eyes immediately narrow.

"You're seriously here?"

You just beam. "Told you I wanted to say it to your face."

"I told you to stay put."

He doesn't move, blocking the doorway like the world's least intimidating bouncer—but his ears undeniably pink.

You take a step closer, grin stretching. "What, scared I'll call you beautiful again?"

"You're lucky I like you," he mutters, but he doesn't stop you when you cup his jaw with both hands and gently pull him in for a kiss. It's soft at first, warm and steady.

And then he sighs—like he's finally letting his guard down.

"You're impossible," he mumbles against your lips.

"You like it."

"I tolerate it."

But when you pull back, he's the only one chasing another kiss, one hand sliding around your waist. His voice a low grumble in your ear: "Say that poetic crap again and I swear I'll ruin your night."

"Oh no," you deadpan, eyes twinkling. "Heaven forbid the beautiful man kisses me senseless."

His mouth twitches. "You asked for it."

KUGISAKI NOBARA— "CAN'T TAKE A COMPLIMENT"

You find her on the couch in sweats and a clay mask drying on her face, legs up and an open bottle of nail polish dangerously balanced on a throw pillow.

She doesn't even glance up when you walk in. "Can't moisturize away your charm, babe."

"Gross," she mutters—but she's already trying no to smile.

You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, ignoring the mask. "Still stunning."

She rolls her eyes so hard you're surprised they don't fall out. "You're such a simp."

"You like it."

"Shut up and kiss me before I throw this nail polish at your forehead."

So you do—long, slow, and with your hand slipping under her hoodie to hold her waist. When you pull back, she's glaring at you like you're the problem, but her cheeks are a telltale shade of pink.

"I hate how good that was," she mutters.

You grin. "Told you. Devastating."

She clicks her tongue. "You really are the worst. But… you're my worst."

SHOKO IEIRI— "CALL IT A HOUSE CALL"

You let yourself into Shoko’s place using the key she insists she only gave you “for emergencies,” and immediately smell cheap incense, red wine, and that citrusy shampoo she never admits to using.

She’s curled up sideways on the couch, long legs tangled in a blanket, wine glass balancing dangerously on her knee. “Took you long enough,” she murmurs without looking up.

“I brought snacks.” You hold up a bag of chips and some chocolate bars like a peace offering.

“Saint.” She finally turns her head and gives you a lazy smile that melts your spine. “Come here and let me kiss the brain damage out of you.”

You toss the snacks on the table, climb onto the couch, and let her pull you in like gravity. Her fingers slip under your shirt just to warm her hands on your skin, and the kiss she gives you is slow, a little tipsy, and entirely intoxicating.

When you pull back, she smirks. “Still hopelessly in love?”

You nod, grinning. “Maybe even worse now.”

She hums, sips her wine, and gestures at your pants. “Good. Prove it.”

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strrykais · 2 months ago

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(☘︎) ─── long story short

you’ve known yang jeongin since you were kids, until one day he leaves you unexpectedly without a word for years. but that night, the last night you two hung out, he left you with a little more than a memory ; his unplanned baby.

𐀔𓂃 kais note: added some more chapters because i realized i needed more with the amount i write!! sorry the first part is written, i couldn’t put that convo in text :/ not proofread! xo

back to library

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You were sitting at a playground bench watching Megan and Juwon fight over who gets to push who on the swing. You were so lost in trying to read their lips you didn't realize jeongin was walking up behind you.

When jeongin got the message asking you to meet him here, he was more than happy to agree. But then reality started to set in on all the ways you could possibly and were gonna cuss him out. But all his worries start to vanish when he sees you sitting there.

You haven’t really changed much, your hair was longer and you had this soundness just by looking at you. You smile at whatever you were staring at, jeongin always loved your smile, which is why he tried his hardest to make you laugh when you were together.

“Hi.” jeongin voice causes you to jump a little quickly, throwing your glance away from the small little boy pushing the orange haired girl on the swing.

God, he is beautiful. He grew out of his boyish features and it was scary how much Juwon looked like him. If jeongin was to see him, he would immediately know. Your genes didn't even put up a fight. Jeongin was making the same face Juwon makes when he is too scared to ask to stay up past his bedtime.

“Hey.” you give him a small smile, gesturing out to the spot next to you.

Jeongin slowly takes a seat, “how have you been?”

“I’ve been hanging on, I guess, been pretty busy these days.”

“Yeah me too.”

“Oh, congratulations on your movie. I saw it. You were born to be on the screen.”

Jeongin watches as you shift uncomfortably, he rubs his palms on his knees preparing to voice out apologies.

“Yn I am so-”

“Mommy” jeongin was interrupted by a little boy, running towards her.

He first thought maybe the boy saw wrong, but when he saw the way your face lit up and the way you outstretched your arms for him to run into. Jeongin was taken aback that you had a child, oh my god were you married? He quickly looks down at your hands, letting out a breath when he sees no band around your finger.

“Auntie Megan pushed me.” he whines pointing at the taller girl walking up to them.

“Yn I'm so sorry I didn't think he would come tell on me for pushing him down the slide.” Jeongin watches as the boy looks at him, and Jeongin freezes because that little boy had his eye shape. The way his eyes crinkle close as he laughs at whatever you whispered in his ears. He watches as the boy places a kiss on your cheek and runs away after pushing the girl who pushed him her quickly following after him.

You forgot where you were for a second until quickly looking at jeongin, letting out a little laugh hoping he did get a good look at juwon.

“You have a son?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that's nice. How old is he?”

“Three. He just turns four next month.” you were hoping to get this conversation over with. Gathering the courage and trying to think on how to let him know gently, but before you could let it out jeongin beat you to it.

“He’s mine isnt he?” your head pops up to see him staring at you, his eyes showed so many emotions. Betrayal? Anger? Hope?

“Jeongin..” you start off slowly, but that's all the confirmation he needs before he gets up from the bench and starts walking away from you. “Wait jeongin, let's talk about it.” you quickly get up following after him.

He abruptly stops “Talk about it? Yn you had years to ‘talk about it’ and you didn't. Not once have you reached out.”

“I thought about it, but you were already taking off in the entertainment industry and I couldn’t be the one to bring you down with this accident. Jeongin we were kids, I was scared.”

“I could’ve been there for you. For him. You made a decision without even talking to his..” jeongin stops to catch his breath, trying to calm the hurt and bile in the back of his throat. “His dad yn, you took years from me when i could have been his father. That is something I can't get back.” Jeongin looks past you, his eyes scanning the playground to see if he can see his son.

“Jeongin, I'm sorry.” tears spill out your eyes hitting the floor as your head hangs low.

Jeongin wanted to reach out and wipe your tears but he held back, “i need to go yn, sorry.”

You watched through watery eyes Jeongin slowly walk away from you, you can’t really blame him you knew he needed time. You just were just worried now that the ball was on his court, what would he do.

LSS 🏷️: @margo-justine @ihttinniee @sellomaybe @gukuwii @weirdowithaphone @mmarusa @delulumel @torkorpse @seungzsmin @lukeys-giggle @zenlackszen @lixiebokie @sunnysidesins @bunni0nbanhg @beewilko @urlocalmultigroupfan @quokkacidal @yougottobekittenme @hyun4u @therealmrsbahng @bangchansgirlsblog @seungfl0wer @rikidaze @dollce-exe @mrsminseochoi @sh0dor1 @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp

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sharkwidow · 2 months ago

Text

Nerf War | Avengers x Teenage reader!

✮⋆˙Summary: War broke out, and you were the culprit.

✮⋆˙Content Warning: Chaos, affection, and lots of foam darts.

✮⋆˙Word Count: 785

✮⋆˙Notes: The Avengers adore you... even if they don't easily admit it.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

Fury left you with them like you were a fragile box.

"Take care of her, she's useful. She's a spy. And yes, she's a teenager, but don't underestimate her."

He said it dryly, but the Avengers understood the subtext. You weren't just useful. You were important. You'd been through things no one should have to go through, and Fury, that grumpy old man with a hidden heart, trusted them to give you something you never had: a family.

And at first... it was weird. Tony called you "ninja girl," Natasha analyzed you like a mirror, Steve offered you food every five minutes, and Clint gave you training arrows. Even Wanda calmly taught you how to use your abilities, as if she wasn't worried about you accidentally melting a cup.

But today... today you weren't a spy. Today you were a bored teenager in a giant tower with superheroes too busy.

So you decided to unleash hell.

Colorful. Foam. Totally harmless.

The best hell.

You snuck through the halls, sliding as only you knew how, until you left a modified Nerf gun in the kitchen. On the table. It was pointed directly at Tony Stark.

"What the...?" he said when he saw it.

A note taped to the side read: "First to shoot wins. Begin!"

Tony looked up just as a foam dart hit him in the forehead.

"Was that you?!" he yelled, running after you.

And so the war began.

Steve showed up five minutes later with a shield converted into a barricade. Natasha had two Nerf guns and terrifying accuracy. Wanda levitated darts with her magic. Clint fired from the rooftop, and Peter Parker came swinging through the window with a backpack full of ammo.

Bruce refused to participate... until a dart hit him in the back. Then, the controlled version of the Hulk launched cushions like grenades.

You were laughing so hard you almost fell down the hallway as you dodged Tony's attacks and hid behind the couch.

"She started it!" Tony yelled, pointing at you.

"And she's going to win!" you screamed, launching a barrage of darts with lethal accuracy.

At some point, Steve tripped over a poorly placed shield, Natasha got caught in a net you'd set up as a trap, and Clint was left hanging from the ceiling light, laughing like a madman.

When Thor returned to the tower from another mission and saw the mess, he simply asked, "Is this a battle? Where's my Nerf hammer?"

And that's when the chaos doubled.

Darts were flying everywhere. Peter was screaming like it was a real war, you were using your training to disappear and attack from the shadows, and Tony was already planning to build an automatic turret to shoot him.

The chaos lasted almost two hours.

Two hours of laughter, screams, pillow fights, and hearts healing without saying a word.

When it was all over, you were on the floor, laughing, with Tony lying next to you, his hair covered in darts, and Wanda using her magic to remove the ones Clint had stuck in his face.

"You're dangerous, kid," Natasha said, sitting next to you.

"Thanks," you replied with a smirk.

Steve tossed you a water bottle.

"Good strategy, agent."

And for a moment, you felt... loved. Not for what you could do. Not for your training or your skills. But simply for being you.

An orphaned teenager who had started a Nerf war so she wouldn't feel alone.

And it had worked.

"Rematch tomorrow?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Get ready, I have better plans," you replied, and everyone laughed. Even Thor.

The Avengers—your Avengers—looked at you as if you were one of them. Because you already were. From the first foam dart.

#avengers x teen!reader #marvel x reader #marvel masterlist #marvel x you #marvel moodboard #black widow x reader #tony stark x reader #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #mcu x you

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acosmicbee · 2 months ago

Note

Would you be open to wring a yandere parental woman who’s like a mob boss and wants a child but can’t have any so she finds reader who already doesn’t have a good home life and like kidnaps her into making reader her kid?

Bad Home, Good Kid

TWs: Implied child abuse, referenced drug abuse

Artemis was supposed to have everything, and she almost did. She had the good looks, the large mansion, the perfect control over the city. To any other mafia boss, this would be enough, but not for Artemis.

She was missing the one thing she wanted, the one thing she craved. A dream that had been brutally ripped away from her after a failed murder attempt. She'd never tortured any man for longer, pain mixing with the anger as she made him suffer.

After all, if his bullet had hit just a little higher, if he'd had better aim, her uterus wouldn't have been hit. She'd still be able to have a child, just the way she'd always dreamed. In the mansion the bedroom next to hers had always been saved for a nursery or kids bedroom. But now...? Now, she'd have to find some other way to have the child she'd dreamed of.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

It was a cloudy day, but there was no forecast of rain so you went to the playground. It wasn't a good neighborhood you lived in, there were more than a few unsavory characters on your floor of your apartment building alone. But most in the area followed the moral code of the mafia, if only to avoid becoming a target, and that meant children were to be left alone.

You were often the only child at the playground. You'd get the swings all to yourself, going back and forth for hours at a time. You never had to wait in line to go down the slide or play on the monkey bars, but it wasn't as fun as it seemed.

You've seen things, things no child should have to see. There was a reason you spent as much time as you could outside, pretending you didn't have a home to go back to. There was a reason you knew to never investigate any sudden sounds, especially sharp cracks.

Today there seemed to be a lot of those a couple of blocks over. The sounds rang through the air as you sat on the swing, swaying back and forth. It was easy for you to disassociate from the noises, letting your mind wander somewhere away from the trauma. Instead of the swing, your mind took you to a ship, one that swayed in the waves and carried you far far away.

A small smile crossed your face as you thought to all the shows you'd watched that showed the ocean. The pretty blue water and warm sun. The gentle swishing sound as it came into contact with things. You never noticed the sounds stopping, lost in your daydream as you swung back and forth.

You eventually stopped swinging, the delusion fading away as you got a little dizzy. You let the swing slow, your shoes dragging against the ground as you tried to decide what you wanted to do next. You glanced up when you heard a demanding voice nearing the playground.

A woman, flanked by a couple of others, walked down the sidewalk. Her voice was sharp and cold and she carried herself with an air of command. You noted her clothes, dressed way too nicely to be from anywhere near this neighborhood. You also noticed the gun in her hand that she was cleaning while she walked.

The swing set creaked as it finally came to a stop and all of a sudden you were looking into icy blue eyes. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at you, and you felt a pit of fear in your stomach as you stared back. Getting noticed was never a good thing, especially not by someone who stood out.

With a trembling hand you released one of the chains, hesitantly waving hi to her. Almost instantly her demeanor shifted as a warm smile crossed her face. The gun was instantly moved out of your view as she waved back, murmuring something to one of the others with her.

You breathed a sigh of relief as they left, your legs shaking when you finally stood up from the swing. You didn't feel like playing anymore, but going home was always the worse option. Instead you tucked yourself out of view on one of the play structures, hiding from the world for as long as you could.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

"I need info." Artemis' tone was sharp as she approached a man standing on a street corner. He just groaned, looking more put off than anything.

She pulled out her phone, showing the man a picture. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as his posture shifted to be more defensive. "What do you want with the kid? I thought it was your rule to leave kids alone."

"I'm not going to hurt them." She said, her voice cold as she glared at him. "And I don't appreciate the insinuation. I want info on their parents and that means info on them as well. Trust me when I say the kid will be fine."

His posture relaxed just a little as he glanced around before speaking. "They're crackhead Corrine's kid, bet you can guess why thats her nickname. No father in the picture, nor has there ever been one as far as I'm aware. Kid's name is Y/N..." He paused before leaning in closer. "They're a good kid in a bad place. Between you and me, someone should've called CPS on Corrine a long time ago."

"And why haven't you? Especially if you're implying what I think you are." Artemis asked. Her gaze was sharp and accusatory, but her info broker didn't flinch, long since used to her intimidation tactics.

"You know the first rule about living here? Mind your own business. If you don't, you'll probably end up on the wrong end of someone's gun. If someone ever traced the CPS call back to me, I'd be labeled a snitch and be shot dead in a week. My job is to give you info, not to act on it. That's your job." He said defensively.

"Where do they live?" She asked, already preparing in her head. She'd need to have your room ready quicker than she expected, not wanting to leave you in a bad situation.

"136 Whittaker Street, I think floor 6 but I'm not sure the exact apartment number." He said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

"If anything happens to the kid, you call me. Immediately." She finally said, slipping him some cash for his information. He just grinned, counting the bills as she walked away.

"Pleasure doing business with ya."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

You started to find little gifts left for you in the playground. At least, somewhere in your mind you realized they were meant for you. They were always left on your swing, brand new and clean. Even if you tried to rationalize it as someone coincidentally losing things over and over, you knew the gifts were supposed to be for you.

Sometimes, when you played with the jump rope that had been left or one of the balls, you'd see that same woman. She never stayed for long, usually just waving at you before disappearing to go do whatever it is she was in this neighborhood for.

Everything seemed to come crashing down the day you came home late with a small stuffed tiger tucked under your arm. You weren't expecting your mother to be home and flinched when she suddenly grabbed you, pulling you into the apartment.

"Look at you, you little thief! Did you steal that off some other brat?!" She yelled, grabbing the toy from your arms. She dragged you into the kitchen, hissing mean words and calling you names.

She let go of you for a second to grab a pair of scissors which she used to decapitate the poor toy. When she turned to you, still holding the scissors and a dark look in her eyes, you ran.

You darted out the front door and down the staircase, never stoping even though you landed on your ankle funny coming off the stairs. The streets were dark and the worst of the worst were starting to come out, but anywhere felt safer then that cramped apartment.

In your panic, running for the only place you felt safe, you never noticed the man under an awning on the phone. You didn't notice how his eyes followed you or how he subtly stepped further out onto the street to block you mother's view before you turned a corner, leaving her with no clue of where you'd gone.

You slipped through the gate of the playground, panting as you stumbled onto the play structure. Your ankle was throbbing and it felt so hard to breathe over the panic you felt. You started quietly sobbing, trying to force your body to take in air.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, quietly panicking, before you heard the roar of an engine as a car parked somewhere close. There was the squeak of the playground gate, followed by the sound of high heeled shoes on concrete.

You peeked out, seeing a woman standing in the middle of the playground, frantically looking around. It was the woman who always watched you, the one who dressed nicely and waved hello every time she saw you. This time when she saw you she approached the structure quickly.

You were too worn out to run and could only sob harder when she pulled you into her lap, holding you close. She was warm, so warm compared to the cool night. Her hands stroked through your hair as she gently soothed you, helping you find your breath.

When she stood, she took you with her, carrying you towards her waiting car. You hadn't been carried in a very long time and the feeling of being so close to someone without being hurt was novel to you.

She helped buckle you in, holding your hand as her driver started the car. The gentle movement of the car was enough to put you to sleep, your head against the window as the darkened city streets passed.

"Don't worry now, love. I promise you'll never have to run like that again, to be scared like that again. Your mommy will protect you, for now and forever."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #platonic #yandere ocs #parental yandere

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saintsanddevils · 5 months ago

Text

Never Alone

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: After parapet, Aaric discovers his best friend followed him to Basgiath. (set during Iron Flame, no Onyx Storm spoilers)

Warnings: angst, swearing, Aaric POV

Author’s Note: onyx storm made me write fanfic & there isn’t enough Aaric fic out there

Posted on AO3

Part Two

Masterlist

————

-Conscription Day-

Oh, shit.

Aaric’s eyes widen as he watches the last person he’d ever expect to see at Basgiath storm across the courtyard.

No. Please, Zihnal, let it be anyone but her.

A prayer to the god of luck feels like a waste as he senses his imminent doom the closer she gets. Waves of rage seep off her like a tidal wave, forcing cadets to dive quickly out of her way.

Aaric tries to blink the image away, hoping this isn’t real. Maybe the exhaustion of climbing those never-ending stairs and crossing the parapet did something to his mind. This has to be a hallucination.

“You fucking idiot!” She’s suddenly before him, shoving him hard against the stone column. He barely registers the impact as he stares down at her, feeling her erratic breathing against his chest. He’s so focused on how she’s standing in front of him that he misses her hand sailing towards his face before it’s too late. The immediate, harsh slap swings his head to the side.

“I’m going to kill you,” she seethes.

Yep. This is real. And that is definitely who he thinks it is.

Working his jaw as the sting reverberates across his skin, he turns back to face her.

Y/N. She’s here. She’s actually here. By the looks of it, she made it across the parapet. Which means…

Aaric would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel the sudden weight of dread crushing him as he stares at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

If he thought he knew what Y/N was like when she was angry, it’s nothing compared to the fury rising in her eyes.

“Are you kidding me?! What am I doing here?” She shakes her head, gripping his leathers as she crowds closer. “You’re an arrogant asshole if you thought you could disappear so easily. If you think, for one damn second, that I would let you do this alone, Cam-“

Aaric quickly slides his hand over her mouth to stop her. Noticing the crowd around them, he rushes to pull her away from prying eyes. With one hand around her mouth and the other arm around her waist, he pulls her behind the column. She begins to yell at him from beneath his hand before bucking and kicking as he makes his way down the corridor. Aaric curses as he holds her tighter against his chest. This is starting to look way worse than he hoped it would as he drags her away from the courtyard.

When he finds a secluded alcove away from everyone, teeth sink into the skin of his palm.

“Fuck!” He pulls his hand away with a hiss, stepping back as she twists out of his reach. “You bit me!”

“You were practically kidnapping me!”

Aaric rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

She raises an offending brow. “I’m dramatic? Says the prince who just up and left in the middle of the night to fulfill some childish fantasy that he can go get himself a dragon and some fancy magic to save the kingdom. Really?”

He stiffens. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She laughs, cold and bitter. “Don’t I? I’m pretty sure I know you better than anyone. Hell, maybe even better than yourself.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “Your father is going try and find you. He’ll send everyone, tear this place apart-“

“No. He won’t.” His jaw flexes as he glances around, ensuring no one can hear them. “He might try, but it won’t matter. He can’t do anything. Especially after threshing.”

Her face blanches at the words. “Threshing… Oh gods, Cam.” She falls back against the wall, her earlier anger slowly dissipating. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

A wave of voices rises from around the corner, making Aaric step closer to her. Once they drift further away, he relaxes. Blowing out the breath he held, he stares into the eyes of the one person on this damn continent that he can trust. The one person he would never ask to join him. The one person he chose to lie to, to manipulate and betray in order to do what was necessary.

“I have to do this.”

The confession weighs heavily in his sternum. Solidifying his rattled nerves. The guilt he’s collected over the years still eats away at him, but now, without a shadow of a doubt, he knows this is what he’s meant to do. The second he stepped onto the stone parapet, he knew he had to be here. Cowering in the palace wouldn’t do anything. Being here, training, fighting, working to help their kingdom- it’s all he can do.

Her eyes soften from his words as if she can hear his thoughts. Understanding his worries and doubts, as she always has. The two of them grew up alongside one another. Her father is a trusted advisor to the throne, allowing him the privilege to have his family join him at the palace. Aaric has known her for as long as he can remember. And just like when they were kids running around the palace gardens, he’d do anything for her. Except for stay as far away from Basgiath as possible.

Of course she knew he’d come here. She wasn’t lying when she said she knew him better than anyone. It’s something he now wished wasn’t true. Her being here was proof of it. By the looks of her fighting leathers that outlined the dips and curves of her figure, she planned on this.

His chest warms at the thought, but he tries to push down the overwhelming need to touch her. He’s suddenly all-too-aware of how close they’re standing. How much his fingers itch to reach out and hold her. To hide her from all of this and keep her safe.

The thought of her following him down this path scares him more than his father finding him.

“Go home,” he quickly steps away. The longer he stands near her, the more she’ll convince him he’s making a mistake. He can’t let that happen.

The softening of her features is gone. The sympathy she was feeling is now replaced with that earlier anger. She clenches her jaw as she stands straight, glaring up at him.

“I’m staying. I crossed the parapet. I deserve to be here just as much as you do.”

Aaric shakes his head. “You can’t-“

“I can and I am.” She steps into his personal space again, and for a moment, he wonders if she’ll slap him again. A strange, small part of him wants her to. He shuts that thought down immediately.

“If you want to go be some sort savior of Navarre for your ridiculous hero complex, fine. You’re a grown man. You can do whatever you want. Especially as the prince,” she narrows her eyes. “But I’ll be damn sure if you’re gonna try to play the hero, I’m gonna make sure you don’t kill yourself doing it. Someone has to.”

He flinches. She must’ve caught the reaction since her face softens, as well as her tone.

“I’d never let you go through this alone, Cam. You know that.”

Flashes of whispered promises under a rose trellis as they pricked the skin of their palms come to the forefront of his mind. Their blood welled in their tiny hands as they made vows to one another. To always have each other’s back. To always be there for each other, no matter the cost.

The scar on his palm burns as he watches her storm past him, determination setting her shoulders straight. Gods, he wish he didn’t know her as well as he did.

The crowd of new cadets cheer in the distance, the hum of their voices growing louder as Conscription Day comes to a close. The shadows on the wall move in the afternoon light as he watches the one person he cares about more than anything walk away from him.

That guilt stings in his gut now, adding another person to the list of people he has to protect. If she’s here, he can’t make this all about his kingdom. He can’t even make this about himself. He has to ensure she stays alive. They both have to get through this.

There’s no turning back now.

Part Two

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buntanteen · 9 months ago

Text

boyfriend!jeonghan headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

summary: hannie as a boyfriend (romantic and sexual partner) towards reader headcanons :) can be read separately or as a part of upcoming the poly!jihan hcs

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) reader is on the receiving end of penetration.

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

you'll never know which boyfriend!jeonghan you're going to get😌the silly goofy sulky one? the completely love struck one who will do anything for you? the absolute tease? a silly gremlin? a sulky clingy guy?

you having a pet rock too (so doljjong isn’t lonely kjfgbdk). you make sure to send boyfriend!jeonghan pics of your kids together when he’s away!! they always feature in the pictures of your at home breakfasts and dinners~ if you can’t bring them with you, you make sure to do a ridiculous photoshop of them in the setting, just to make hannie laugh 🥰

to boyfriend!jeonghan, you will always be "yeobo" and "jagiya" (i can just hear him elongating the yaaaaaa). what even is your real name?🤷 he doesn’t know anymore

during aftercare, soft dom!jeonghan will be praising you and calling you “angel”. he becomes more and more convinced that you’re an angel

teaser!jeonghan loving to bite you. he’ll nip at your neck and soothes the pain over with his tongue. he’ll give lil kisses to the fully formed hickeys littered across your neck, chest and thighs

boyfriend!jeonghan being completely enamoured when you’re playful with him. he’ll be tracing around your lips and when u nip at his fingers. he does that jeonghan "ah!" of his and starts sulking, you apologise by giving a kiss to his finger, his palm, his wrist and trail up to his face…he'll be melting hehe

it is a must 😤to give boyfriend!jeonghan lil pecks on his cheeks when he does that closed eyes content smile of his. he’ll always giving you the gentlest kisses on the cheek back

cockwarming teaser!jeonghan is one of his favourite activities with you. cuz he gets to be close to you??? and have you wrapped around him?? and gets to do what he wants whilst making u whine?? sign him up 😌😌

when he’s cold, boyfriend!jeonghan will link your arms with his and hold hands. the moment he hits you with one of his 🥺, you’ll shove your intertwined hands into your jacket pocket where a prepared heat packet lays to keep both your fingers from freezing

on the other hand, boyfriend!jeonghan put his cold ass hands or feet on you <3 he just loves to hear your whine and sulk and pout~

soft dom!jeonghan who gets worn out easily, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make his baby to feel so so good. makes you ride his cock to pleasure yourself, guiding your hips with his hands. he loves this the most because the visual off you getting off because of him is insane (and partially cuz he wants u to work for it…)

our little mastermind boyfriend!jeonghan will cheat when playing games with you. but will cheat FOR you when y’all are playing with others. he has pushed the other members over, tickled them, distracted them, bribed them and yoinked away their controllers so you win first place in mario cart 😌

boyfriend!jeonghan who pinches and pats your butt before sliding his hand in your back pocket. looks innocently and giggles at your :| face

teaser!jeonghan loves loves loves to tease you. loves slapping his hard cock against your hole and rubbing it against it…the reactions you give are so addicting

boyfriend!jeonghan having an obsession with your thighs. when you're sitting side by side, he’ll swing your legs over onto his lap and playing with your thighs. just absent minded running his hands up and down your legs whilst scrolling on his phone

loves listening to your pretty noises while teaser!jeonghan has your legs spread apart and a vibrator against you. wants you whining and writhing for as long as he can 🥰

finding boyfriend!jeonghan’s ability to adapt to situations and still get his desired outcome so fucking hot. he’ll notice you nearly drooling when you’re visiting the gose set and wink at you

driving home after filming and teasing teaser!jeonghan grinding against his hand but not letting him have his gaze on you? absolute torture for him. telling him “eyes on the road, baby. don’t you want to get home faster? 🥺”

boyfriend!jeonghan who'll pull away from a kiss and intentionally move away more to see you move closer to his lips. likes to see how far he can move back before you catch on. “you want me that much, huh?” “nvm :/” “WAIT NO”

boyfriend!jeonghan who is your island when times get rough. he is the constant waterfall that lulls into a slow-paced stream. he is your place of solitude and safety

ames' songs recs: boyfriend by yeonjun, raise y_our glass by huh yunjin, the astronaut by jin, love me back by fromis_9, to you by seventeen, our summer by txt, just one day by bts, love maze by bts, love me twice by huh yunjin & luv in skool by bts

bun note: hi everyoneee, it has been a while!! i wanted to get this done sooner but decided to release it on hannie's enlistment day as a distraction from the feelingsss. he'll come home safely and soon!! the time flies by super quickly~ <3 take care of yourselves, we have so much to look forward to ^^

this was originally going to be my first time writing something...ever but the fwb!mingyu one came out first hah. then the cockwarming dilf!mingyu... then the joshua boyfriend headcanons... i hope y'all enjoyed~ i'll be working on a jeonghan fic rec list before the jihan poly headcanon comes out!! <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

#buntanteen writings #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen headcanons #seventeen drabbles #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #pls kindly let me know if there are any issues!!

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shelovesosa · 15 days ago

Text

BEST PARENT WARS

art credits to jj59u on X

Pairing : singledad!Satoru x singlemom!reader

Contains : FLUFF, pretend megumi is gojos Biological kid…, domestic vides, Nanami cameo, dilf gojo , chaotic, idiots in love, he want that cookie BAD, slight enemies to lovers

Summary!! A petty rivalry ignites when Nobara complains about Megumi’s perfect lunches — made by his smug, sunglasses-wearing dad, Satoru. You fire back with your own over-the-top lunchbox masterpiece, launching a full-blown schoolyard cold war of snacks, supplies, and sarcastic notes. The kids are over it. The teachers are watching. And neither of you will admit you’re starting to enjoy the battle a little too much.

Part 2 >>>

The morning began with the hollow clink of a spoon in a mug, the scrape of chair legs across the linoleum floor, and a faint yawn echoing down the narrow hallway of your small but lived-in apartment.

Sunlight filtered through the mismatched curtains of the kitchen window, striping the breakfast table in honeyed gold and dusty shadows. A faint breeze passed through the open balcony door, carrying the smell of early spring—wet sidewalks, soft pollen, and the hint of cherry blossoms that hadn’t yet bloomed.

You stood barefoot at the stove, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and leggings, trying to stay awake as the eggs sizzled in the pan. The electric kettle behind you clicked off, steam rising in a slow coil. A familiar pair of feet padded into the room behind you.

“Morning, lovebug.”

A mop of dark brown hair peeked around the corner. Nobara’s eyes were barely open, her pink pajamas rumpled and sliding off one shoulder.

She rubbed her eyes and mumbled something into the sleeve of her shirt.

You turned the heat down and set her plate at the table. “Food’s ready. Toast’s got the jam you like—the one with the berries and the tiny seeds.”

Still half-asleep, she clambered into her seat and stared at the plate like it offended her.

Then, slowly, her shoulders slumped.

You noticed it right away. She didn’t swing her legs like usual. Didn’t hum or complain about the egg’s edges being too brown. Just sat there, silent, picking at her toast.

You took a seat across from her, concern rising.

“What’s up, baby?”

She didn’t answer right away. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. Then, with a sudden surge of quiet frustration, she dropped her toast and crossed her arms.

“There’s this boy in my class,” she muttered, almost like she regretted bringing it up.

You tilted your head, already bracing yourself. “Go on…”

“His name’s Megumi. He’s weird. He always has his bangs in his face like a video game character.”

You covered your mouth to hide a smile. “Okay…”

“And yesterday,” she said, sitting up straighter now, voice rising with offense, “he brought this ridiculous lunch. Like, full-on restaurant style. There were little flags in his rice, and his food was cut into tiny shapes. He had an actual bento box with layers. Layers, Mom!”

You blinked. “Wow.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

You waited.

“He had strawberries. But not like the ones from the store. They were… they were fancy. Like peeled or cut or something? No green. Just soft and perfect and shiny. And everyone in class lost their minds. Even the teacher said it was adorable.”

You laughed softly. “That sounds kind of cute.”

Nobara’s lips twisted in fury. “It was a power move.”

“A power move?”

“Yes. Because after that, all the girls were like, ‘Ohhh Megumi, you’re so lucky!’ and they were sharing with him and trading bites and asking to sit near him. And I was just sitting there with my regular sandwich and a juice box like a total nobody.”

You frowned, your heart twinging. “Sweetheart, you are never a nobody.”

She glared at her plate. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t even eat half of it. I was too mad. I just drank my juice and stared at the window like I was in one of those sad dramas you like.”

You blinked. “Okay, I feel personally attacked.”

She cracked the faintest smile, then went back to sulking.

You leaned across the table and gently pushed her hair out of her face. “You know what I think?”

Nobara didn’t look up.

“I think if some boy is going to show off like that, then we should show off even harder.”

Now she looked at you. “What?”

“I’m saying tomorrow… you’re walking into that classroom with a lunch so good the whole school talks about it.”

Her eyes widened, cautious. “Really?”

You nodded. “Rice flowers. Maybe heart-shaped egg rolls. Dessert. Sauce containers. The works.”

She leaned forward. “Can we do those baby sausages with the octopus legs?”

“I don’t know how to do those.”

“Please?”

You smiled. “Okay. For you? Anything.”

She beamed so brightly you could practically feel the pride returning to her little shoulders.

You leaned back. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“No fighting in the cafeteria.”

Nobara shrugged. “No promises if he brings peeled mango.”

You spent the rest of your day like any other — a balancing act between deadlines and errands, bills and groceries, switching from work mode to parent mode in five-second intervals.

But that night, once Nobara was asleep, curled under her fluffy pink blanket with a stuffed rabbit under her arm, you stood in the middle of the kitchen and stared down your enemy: the rice cooker.

“You’re going to work for me tonight,” you muttered, pressing the lid with authority.

It hissed to life.

You chopped vegetables with a dedication you hadn’t felt in weeks. Molded rice into neat shapes using a set of cheap plastic cutters from a forgotten drawer. You arranged the food like a tiny puzzle: carrots curled into spirals, broccoli tucked into a corner, baby tomatoes skewered with little picks shaped like animals.

You even made a tiny egg roll with cheese inside.

When it was done, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand and smiled down at your masterpiece.

Then you drew a quick doodle on a sticky note — a bunny in sunglasses, giving a thumbs-up — and wrote:

“You’ve got this. Show them who’s boss. <3”

You stuck it under the lid.

A proud warmth bloomed in your chest. Take that, Megumi, you thought, turning off the kitchen light.

The next morning started with nervous energy.

Not Nobara’s — yours. Your hands were sticky with leftover rice and your bangs clung to your forehead as you triple-checked the lunchbox. You’d woken up a little earlier than usual — okay, a lot earlier — and skipped your usual five-minute scroll in bed to boil the eggs and heat the mini sausages again.

You’d even wiped down the bento box with a microfiber cloth like it was going to be inspected under a microscope.

Nobara, for her part, was calm. Too calm. She sat at the table in her school uniform, sipping her milk with quiet confidence. Legs swinging. Hair brushed and tied into her usual side ponytail with the bow she picked last night. A smug grin on her face.

“You think he’s going to be jealous?” she asked.

You slid the bento box into her backpack with dramatic flair. “Jealous? He’s going to cry.”

“Good.” She drained the rest of her milk like a villain toasting their evil plan.

You chuckled and handed her the lunch bag. “Just… be gracious about it, okay? We don’t need a bento-themed civil war in your classroom.”

“I’ll try,” she said innocently. “But if someone cries, that’s their problem.”

You pinched her cheek. “Who raised you?”

“You.”

“…Fair.”

Outside, the weather had warmed just enough to trick you into forgetting it was still March. The street buzzed with life — the hum of school vans, barking dogs behind low fences, the whir of a scooter passing too fast.

You held Nobara’s hand as you approached the school gates, slipping into the stream of other parents and kids. There was the usual chatter, backpacks bouncing, jackets slipping off shoulders. The cherry blossom trees lining the school yard were just beginning to bloom — delicate pink petals clinging like secrets to every branch.

Then you heard it.

“Megumi, wait up! You forgot your scarf!”

A loud voice rang out across the courtyard like someone had plugged a mic into the morning.

You turned instinctively toward the sound. There he was. Tall. Carelessly stylish. Sunglasses on his face like he was walking a red carpet instead of a sidewalk.

The man behind the pudding smiley face.

He was holding a striped scarf in one hand and a bright yellow lunch bag in the other. You watched as he crouched down beside a dark-haired boy — Megumi, presumably — and wrapped the scarf gently around his neck, fussing over the knot like it mattered.

Megumi stood there like a statue, arms crossed, letting it happen with the expression of someone who had accepted his fate long ago.

You stayed where you were, watching in silence as Satoru adjusted the kid’s collar and then, with zero shame, ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head.

“Be good,” he said.

Megumi mumbled something. Probably “stop it” or “you’re embarrassing me,” though the words were lost in the wind.

You felt Nobara tug your hand. “There he is,” she whispered like you were scouting an enemy encampment. “That’s the bento boy.”

Your gaze flicked between the two of them. Satoru spotted you before you could look away. He grinned. And then he waved. A big, full-arm wave, like he was greeting a long-lost friend.

You blinked. Your eyebrows raised on instinct. You gave him a polite little nod. He started walking toward you.

“Uh-oh,” Nobara said under her breath.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Uh-oh.”

“Hey!” he said, cheerful like caffeine in human form. “You’re Nobara’s mom, right?”

You nodded slowly. “That’s me.”

“Satoru Gojo,” he said, offering a hand like this was a networking event. “Resident lunchbox tyrant.”

You laughed in surprise and shook it. His hand was warm, his grip light. “So you admit it?”

“Oh, completely. Megumi hates the attention. I live for it.”

You looked past him to where Megumi stood with his class, stoic and still. “Seems like he’s handling it well.”

“He’s a tough kid,” Satoru said. “Raised by the best.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “I saw the bento.”

“And I saw yours.” His smile widened. “Smiley face on the rice. Bold move.”

“Carrot stars,” you said. “Respect.”

“I didn’t know we were playing a game,” he said, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Well,” you said, smirking, “you started it.”

“True,” he nodded. “But I think you escalated it.”

“You brought pudding for the whole class!”

He gasped. “You saw that?”

“It was in the group chat.”

Satoru laughed so loudly that a few parents glanced over. “You’re right. It was a bit much.”

“Are we… doing this again today?” you asked, curious.

“Only if you are.”

You looked at him — at the tousled white hair, the half-zipped hoodie, the ridiculous sunglasses, and the way he smiled at you without a hint of self-consciousness. Then you grinned back.

“Round two,” you said. “Bring it.”

By lunchtime, the group chat was exploding. A mother uploaded a new photo of the bento display in the classroom — this time featuring not one, but two spectacular lunches.

Yours had made a splash. Heart-shaped onigiri, grilled vegetables shaped into flower petals, the rabbit napkin Nobara insisted on, and a tiny handwritten note folded into origami.

You felt proud. Giddy, even. Until you saw his.

Satoru’s creation was a monstrosity of love and chaos: a three-tiered bento box with tiny rice animals wearing nori bowties. There was a cartoon version of Megumi's face made out of seaweed and cheese. There were hand-cut apple rabbits. A slice of cheesecake with gold sprinkles.

He even included a tiny menu card. You stared at the screen in silence.

Then typed:

“This is getting out of hand.”

Satoru replied within seconds:

“Don’t hate the player, hate the lunch.”

You stared at your phone and let out a laugh so loud it startled your coworker across the room.

That evening, when Nobara burst through the front door, she was glowing.

“MOM,” she shouted, dropping her backpack like it owed her money. “They LOST THEIR MINDS.”

“Yeah?”

“Everyone said my lunch was better than yesterday. And that little origami note? That’s going in my pencil case.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Mission accomplished.”

“But…” she added, serious now. “Megumi brought dessert again. He said his dad likes to experiment with toppings.”

You blinked. “Did he now?”

“So,” she said, eyes gleaming. “What’s for tomorrow?”

You stared at her. At her spark. At this ridiculous little game you and another parent had started without meaning to — and how now it had become something that made your kid feel seen. Confident. You grinned.

“We make cookies tonight.”

The kitchen smelled like sugar and war. You were bent over the baking tray, carefully spacing out spoonfuls of dough as Nobara hovered next to you, holding a bowl of M&M’s like it was rare treasure.

“Do we add the candies before or after baking?�� she asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Before. Just press them in lightly so they don’t melt into weird blobs.”

“Like that time you made chocolate chip lava?”

“Okay, first of all, that was an accident,” you said, pressing an M&M into the soft dough. “And second, you still ate three.”

“I was being polite.”

You looked at her flatly.

She grinned. “And hungry.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugged at your lips anyway. It had been years since you’d baked like this — not just for sustenance, but for fun. For your daughter. For her pride. For something petty and strangely sweet that had grown between you and Satoru without either of you saying it out loud.

He was… charming, in that ridiculous way. Confident. Cocky. Endearingly extra.

And if you were honest with yourself — and that wasn’t always your strong suit — you’d started looking forward to his texts more than you wanted to admit.

Not that you liked him. Not like that. Probably.

You pushed that thought aside and slid the tray into the oven.

“Alright,” you announced. “Operation Cookie Overkill has begun.”

The next morning, Nobara practically skipped to school.

She held the clear box of individually wrapped cookies like a trophy. You’d let her decorate the labels — bright marker hearts and gold star stickers that looked like they were made by a seven-year-old with a grudge.

“Remember,” you said as she waved goodbye. “Share.”

“I’ll generously distribute,” she said, puffing her chest. “Like a queen.”

You watched her run toward the gate, weaving through backpacks and familiar faces.

Then, from across the lot, you saw Satoru again.

This time, he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. Just a gray hoodie and jeans. His hair was as chaotic as usual, but there was something different in how he stood — a little straighter. Less performative. He looked… handsome.

And unfortunately, he caught you staring. He smiled. No wave this time. Just a small nod. You gave one back and quickly busied yourself with your phone.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the flicker in your chest.

By noon, the cookie war had become a school-wide event.

You were at work, halfway through a salad, when your phone buzzed.

📸 Photo from PTA Chat Caption: “Nobara brought cookies for the whole class today! Adorable! And delicious! ❤️🍪”

You smiled. Scrolled.

Another parent chimed in:

“Satoru’s cinnamon rolls yesterday were amazing, but these cookies?? We’re getting spoiled!”

And then…

“Someone get these two a bakery already.”

You blinked. Re-read that one twice.

Before you could type anything back, your phone buzzed again — a private message this time.

From… Satoru.

Satoru: Okay. You win today. The cookie with the little smiley face in chocolate chips? Ruthless. I’m down. But I’m not out.

You stared at the screen, warmth creeping up your neck. You typed, then backspaced. Typed again.

You: I accept your surrender. But I expect retaliation.

Satoru: You will regret that.

You stared at your phone. Grinning like a fool.

That evening, just as you were unpacking Nobara’s bag, there was a knock at the door.

You opened it, only mildly surprised to see Kento Nanami standing on your porch. Crisp shirt. Jacket. Tie. Always dressed like he’d just stepped out of a finance meeting. Even after all these years.

“Kento,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He offered a small, polite smile. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

You stepped aside. “No, come in. She just finished dinner.”

He nodded and stepped inside. You could feel the shift in the air immediately. A little heavier. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

Nobara lit up the moment she saw him.

“Daddy!”

He crouched as she ran into his arms. “Hey, sweetheart.”

They hugged tightly. Her hair spilled over his shoulder. And for a moment — just a moment — you could see the family you once were, like a photo you hadn’t meant to keep in a drawer.

Kento stood, brushing her bangs aside. “How was school?”

She lit up. “Mom made cookies! I passed them out and everyone went wild. Even the teacher said we should open a bakery.”

Kento smiled. “Did they now?”

“Megumi said we were being dramatic, but I think he liked them too. He ate two.”

You froze slightly at the name. You hadn’t mentioned Satoru to Kento. Hadn’t meant to.

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask.

Instead, he turned to you. “She’s doing well.”

You nodded. “She’s… thriving, actually. Which is new.”

He paused.

“I’m glad.”

You both stood in that silence, not quite awkward — just old. Worn. Familiar.

Then he asked, “Do you want me to take her next weekend?”

Your mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Sure. Yeah. She’d like that.”

“She misses the cat.”

“She told me.”

You both chuckled softly.

He looked at you for a long moment before saying, “I’m glad she has you.”

And even though it was quiet, and simple, and deeply Nanami — it made your stomach twist a little.

He still cared. You knew that.

But love, in the way you both needed, had slipped through the cracks long ago.

Satoru walked into the classroom on Thursday morning carrying a giant box of craft supplies, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, and a confident little bounce in his step.

“You volunteered for class decorations?” the teacher asked, bewildered.

“Art is passion,” he replied smoothly, laying out glitter markers, limited edition washi tape, and a mechanical hot glue gun that looked military-grade.

You stood in the doorway behind him with a tray of cookies you’d baked for the class. You smiled politely.

“Satoru.”

He turned. “Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there, Miss Martha Stewart.”

“Crafts and snacks?” you mused. “How generous. Overcompensating?”

“For being better?” he asked. “Always.”

You leaned in with a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t trip over your ego. The kids might need the glue gun.”

By Friday, the teachers knew.

So did the kids. One of the parents whispered, “Are they fighting or flirting?” The answer was unclear.

Satoru had started writing messages inside his bento boxes. Not to Megumi — to you.

Today’s note:

“If food is the language of love, then you’re grammatically incorrect.”

The whole lunch table laughed.

Nobara rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s funny.”

You snapped your chopsticks. “He thinks wrong.”

That night, you stayed up sketching a meal plan for next week.

It included:

* Onigiri shaped like your face.

* A thermos of miso soup that would spell “LOSER” in seaweed letters.

* A sweet treat shaped like a crown. Because, obviously, you were winning.

The next morning, you packed it all with a note.

“Didn’t realize ‘obnoxious’ was a flavor. Hope you like eating your words.”

Nobara shook her head in awe. “You guys are crazy.”

You kissed her forehead. “Crazy never loses, baby.”

Later that night, after the dishes were done and Nobara was asleep with her arm flung over her stuffed rabbit, you sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath you.

Your phone buzzed again.

Satoru: So. About Monday . Have you ever seen a bento shaped like an aquarium?

You laughed. Softly. Quietly.

Then you typed back.

You: I’m not scared. Bring the fish

It was the kind of Monday morning where everything felt too still.

The sky was pale, streaked with soft morning hues. You could hear birds chirping through the cracked window, the slow rhythm of life starting outside — but your apartment held an anxious buzz. The kettle hissed on the stove. Nobara munched toast loudly from the kitchen table.

And you? You were sweating over seaweed.

“Okay, okay—what does a goldfish even look like in rice?” you muttered, fingers trembling slightly as you tried to press a cutout into shape. You’d watched two YouTube tutorials. You’d used a cookie cutter. You’d begged a god you didn’t believe in.

All for one reason: Satoru Gojo and his threat of an aquarium bento.

Well, no. Just Satoru now. And he’d made it clear in his last message: this was war.

“You're acting like he’s your boyfriend,” Nobara said, watching you from the doorway as she chewed. “You should just ask him to come over and make lunch together.”

You dropped the rice mold.

“Excuse me?”

She grinned. “It’s obvious, Mom.”

You stared at her, flustered. “What’s obvious?”

“That you’re into him.”

“I am not into him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You stayed up to boil eggs at midnight and print tiny edible labels.”

You pointed a spoon at her. “You’re grounded.”

“I’m eight.”

You sighed dramatically and turned back to the bento. “This is for you, you know.”

“Sure. Totally. For me.”

You paused. “Is he… talking about it at school?”

Nobara shrugged. “Not really. But Megumi said his dad was ‘up all night yelling at seaweed.’”

You smiled, despite yourself.

You arrived at school just as Satoru did. He had one hand on Megumi’s shoulder and the other holding something under a cloth cover like he was revealing a masterpiece.

He wore a soft blue sweater today. Simple. Gentle on his frame. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d only just blow-dried it, and his sunglasses were pushed up into his hair.

He looked… softer than usual. You lifted a hand in greeting as you approached, and he smiled—wide and genuine.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Born ready.”

Megumi groaned beside him. “You two are embarrassing.”

Nobara gasped. “Us?! You’re just mad because we have better food.”

Satoru laughed and pulled the cloth off his creation.

And there it was. A full-blown underwater-themed bento. Blue-tinted rice shaped into waves, seaweed coral fans, cheese-starfish, and tiny carrot octopi with sesame-seed eyes.

You blinked.

He grinned. “Still not scared?”

“I respect the craftsmanship,” you said, peeking into your own container. “But I think my jellyfish dumplings are going to win.”

You opened the lid. Satoru leaned in.

“Oh my god—are those noodles shaped like eels?”

“You bet your sweet seaweed they are.”

You both burst out laughing. Megumi and Nobara sighed in perfect harmony.

The school principal sent a message at noon:

We love your creativity, but please tone down the lunches. The other kids are starting to get upset.P.S. We would love for both of you to volunteer at the spring festival next month.

You stared at the message. Then your phone buzzed again:

Satoru: We’ve been punished. But… group punishment? Are we officially in this together now?

Your heart skipped.

You: I think we’re lunch criminals.

Satoru: Does this mean we finally grab that coffee? Or are we keeping it competitive?

You: Coffee. But only so I can interrogate your rice fish technique.

That weekend , you found yourself standing outside a quiet café near the park. The sun was warm on your shoulders, and your coat hung open as the breeze tugged at the hem of your shirt. It had been a long time since you'd waited for someone like this — not for a meeting, not for a kid’s event.

Just… a coffee.

With him. When Satoru arrived, he didn’t greet you with a joke. He just smiled. Quiet. Warm.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled back. “Hi.”

He held the door for you, and the two of you slid into a booth. The smell of espresso and baked sugar filled the space between you.

He looked different without the performative chaos. Less shiny. More real.

You ordered lattes, and neither of you spoke until the cups hit the table.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say yes,” he admitted, stirring sugar into his drink.

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

He smiled. “Megumi’s been sleeping easier since this whole thing started. He hasn’t said it, but… he’s happier.”

Your heart tugged. “Nobara too. She feels seen. Even when she’s pretending she doesn’t care.”

A pause settled between you.

Then he asked, quietly, “Are you and… Nobara’s father still close?”

You blinked. “He’s still in Nobara’s life. Always will be. But no, not… not like that.”

Satoru’s jaw flexed for a moment. Then he nodded.

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not.”

Another pause.

Then you added softly, “He’s a good man. Just not the right one.”

Satoru looked at you — really looked at you.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “sometimes the right one just shows up late.”

Your eyes met. And for a moment, the air felt too warm, too close, like the café had shrunk around the booth and the silence between your cups had turned into something fragile and hopeful.

Outside, the wind had picked up. Petals drifted from the trees like confetti. Satoru walked you to the corner, hands in his coat pocket, and you hugged your arms close.

He glanced over at you. “You cold?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

But he stepped closer anyway. Just enough that your sleeves brushed. And you let them. Just like that.

You never meant for it to be a date. You told yourself it wasn’t. That it was just coffee again. Just… hanging out. For the kids. For the bento truce. For your own sanity.

But as you stood in your hallway that morning, staring at your reflection — wearing your favorite blouse and those jeans that hugged you just enough — you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

You wanted this to be a date. You wanted him.

It was Satoru’s idea to meet at the local farmers market. You found him there just before noon, leaning against a vendor’s tent with two drinks in hand and sunglasses perched in his hair.

“Peach iced tea,” he said, offering you a cup. “I remembered you said you like sweet things.”

You blinked. “I didn’t realize you were listening that hard.”

“I’m always listening,” he said, then smiled like it cost him nothing. But his eyes didn’t move from yours for a beat too long. And your heart… did something traitorous.

You walked the stalls slowly, sipping tea and talking about everything except the kids.

He told you about the worst haircut he ever had — a childhood mullet, by the sound of it — and you told him how Nobara once shaved her eyebrows trying to “look fierce.”

You passed a flower stand. He paused.

“Pick one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting me choose?”

“I want to see what you think is pretty.”

You turned to the rows of fresh-cut blooms and carefully plucked a tulip — not the flashiest, not the rarest. Just… soft. Quiet.

He watched you hold it for a second, then said, almost too softly, “Figures you’d pick the gentle one.”

Lunch was shared on a shaded bench by the pond. You split a wrap and laughed too loud over how many ducks tried to steal your crumbs. One brushed his foot and he shrieked like a child.

“Nope. That was it. I’m done with nature.”

You were still laughing when you stood, brushing off crumbs — and his hand hovered just slightly at your lower back. Not quite touching.

But close.

So close.

That week, everything returned to routine. Until it didn’t.

You were waiting near the school gate for Nobara, arms crossed against the spring breeze, when a car pulled up quietly beside you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was. The silver sedan. The clean lines. The precision of it all. Kento Nanami.

He stepped out in his usual beige coat, hair combed neatly back, his presence like a book you’d once memorized: predictable, comforting, closed.

“Hi,” he said, voice even.

“Hey,” you replied, offering a small smile. “She’s almost out.”

He nodded. Then — his eyes shifted. Past you. To the figure walking across the lot.

Satoru.

He was laughing, something bright and easy in his expression as he walked Megumi toward the gate. He didn’t notice you at first — not until his eyes lifted and caught yours.

Then… he saw Nanami. And Nanami saw him. A flicker of recognition crossed both their faces. Not quite surprise. Not quite hostility. Just something… cautious. You felt the temperature shift.

Satoru approached, nodding politely. “Hey.”

Nanami gave the smallest incline of his head. “You must be Satoru.”

“I am,” he said, easy smile still in place. “You must be Nanami.”

You could feel the tension threading between them — not loud, not aggressive. Just loaded.

“Thank you for walking her in the mornings,” Nanami said to you, eyes on Satoru. “Nobara tells me you’ve been packing some… interesting lunches.”

“Guilty,” Satoru said. “Though she started it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

They both chuckled — polite, tight.

Just then, the doors opened and kids spilled out in waves. Nobara ran straight for you, waving wildly. Megumi followed behind, quieter but smiling as he saw his dad.

You crouched to hug your daughter, the men standing like mirrored statues above you — each holding half your past and present.

“Weekend plans?” Satoru asked softly once Megumi had taken his hand.

You glanced toward Kento, then back to him.

“Just a little rest. And time with her dad.”

“I get it,” he said, offering a soft smile. “See you Monday?”

You nodded. “Yeah. See you.”

As he turned to walk away with Megumi, Nanami glanced at you, voice low.

“He seems… interesting.”

You glanced at him sideways. “He is.”

He was quiet a moment.

Then: “I’m glad you’re smiling again.”

Your breath caught.

“Me too.”

You didn’t plan to invite him over.

Not that week. Not that day. Not while your apartment was cluttered with stray socks and half-eaten fruit cups and you hadn’t even remembered to light a candle to cover the scent of Nobara’s slime experiments.

But it just… happened.

Satoru had been waiting outside the school, balancing Megumi’s backpack on one shoulder and Nobara’s art project in the other — because she’d “forgotten it in his car.” You knew she hadn’t. You’d seen the way she smiled when she said it.

And you’d seen the look Satoru gave you when he said, “I owe you dinner now, don’t I?”

You could’ve said no.

But the thing was — your daughter had already run over and asked if Megumi could come up to play. So you said yes.

He took off his shoes the second he stepped inside, toes wiggling against your mat like he owned the place. Megumi walked in behind him, wide-eyed, cradling a small bag of LEGOs like a peace offering.

The kids disappeared into the living room.

You found yourself standing beside Satoru in your kitchen, hands brushing once as you reached for the same drawer.

“Oh,” you murmured, pulling back. “Sorry.”

“No,” he said, “I liked that.”

Your breath hitched.

You laughed softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right,” he said, smiling as he leaned against the counter. “You do make this place feel warm.”

You tried not to stare. Not at the way his hair had flattened from the car. Not at the way he’d rolled his sleeves up, or how his voice had gentled around your daughter’s name.

You reached for a pan. “You cook?”

“I reheat.”

“Well then,” you said, trying to sound smug. “Prepare to be amazed.”

You made a simple meal — grilled salmon, soft rice, sautéed greens — but the way he watched you do it, you'd think you were crafting art.

Satoru offered to cut the vegetables, and you handed him the board with a quiet warning: “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

He pretended to be offended. “I have knife skills.”

You smirked. “Bet.”

The conversation stayed light. Easy. Familiar.

You’d never had this with Nanami — not because he was cold, but because everything with him had always felt structured, purposeful. Like it had to be done right the first time.

With Satoru, nothing was perfect. But it was fun.

You turned around to catch him stealing a cucumber slice.

“Caught you.”

“I’m sampling. It’s quality control.”

You reached to swat him, and instead — your fingers brushed his jaw. Just for a second. Just enough. And then the front door buzzed.

You knew who it was before you checked. Nanami stood there in his pressed shirt, tie slightly loosened, holding Nobara’s overnight bag.

“Thought I’d grab her early,” he said.

“Of course,” you answered, suddenly too aware of how quiet the apartment had become.

Satoru appeared behind you a beat later. He didn’t say anything at first, just raised a hand in polite greeting.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change.

You cleared your throat. “Come in for a second?”

He stepped in.

The warmth from dinner still lingered. Plates on the table. Soft music from the speaker. Laughter trickling in from the kids’ room.

Nanami scanned it all. His gaze landed last on you.

“Looks like you had company.”

You nodded. “Just dinner.”

A pause.

Nobara came bounding out, face lighting up when she saw her father. “Daddy!”

He crouched to hug her, strong arms catching her easily, pressing his lips into her hair.

“I missed you.”

She giggled. “You saw me two days ago.”

“It’s too long.”

She waved to Megumi. “Bye, Megu!”

Satoru nodded at her with a warm smile. “Don’t forget your slime.”

“I never do.”

Nanami helped her into her coat and grabbed her bag. But before stepping out, he turned to you.

“Could we talk? Just us?”

Satoru looked between you. Then nodded, quiet.

“I’ll keep the kids busy.”

You followed Nanami to the small bench just outside your building, where the streetlamps flickered and the chill evening air kissed your skin.

He didn’t speak right away.

Neither did you.

“I didn’t come here to interfere,” he said finally, voice low. “Or make you feel guilty.”

“I don’t.”

“I just…” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “You look happy.”

You nodded.

“I always wanted that for you,” he said. “Even if it wasn’t with me.”

Your throat tightened.

He looked at his hands. “I think I spent so long trying to build something stable, something lasting, that I forgot it also had to be… soft. And I’m sorry for the ways that made you feel invisible.”

“I was never invisible,” you said. “You just loved in a way I couldn’t hold.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s a beautiful way of putting it.”

A pause passed.

“I don’t regret loving you,” he said quietly. “I still do, in a way. I think a part of me always will.”

Your eyes stung.

“But I’m not here to win you back,” he said. “I’m just here to say… I hope he knows what he’s getting.”

You smiled. “He does.”

“Good,” Nanami said, rising to his feet. “Because I’ve never seen you glow like this.”

When you returned upstairs after kissing Nobara’s forehead before she left with her dad, the house smelled like soap and oranges. Megumi was asleep on the couch under one blanket, tangled in a mess of limbs and LEGO bricks.

And Satoru… he was sitting on the floor beside them, eyes closed, head resting back against the couch.

You didn’t wake him.

You just sat beside him quietly, your shoulder brushing his. And this time, you didn’t pull away.

You hadn’t meant to plan a family outing. Not when the word family still made your chest feel tight, uneven. You weren’t trying to blend anything. You were just trying to let the kids have fun.

But somehow, by the time you found yourself holding two park tickets and a paper map to the zoo, with Nobara’s hand in yours and Satoru carrying Megumi on his back, it felt… a little too perfect to call it just a playdate.

“Did we really just spend sixty dollars on entry and ten on a giraffe magnet?” you muttered, eyeing the stuffed animal in Nobara’s arms.

“She named it Sato,” Satoru whispered behind his palm. “Which I take as a sign she’s developing excellent taste.”

You elbowed him. He grinned.

The day stretched out like honey. You saw flamingos, lions, capybaras. Satoru bought all of you ice cream, then tried to juggle the cones and dropped his own on his shoe.

Megumi, with a rare smile, offered him a bite of his instead.

“I’m being generous,” the boy said, serious.

“You’re being perfect,” Satoru replied, ruffling his son’s hair.

You saw the way Satoru looked at Megumi — all pride and softness, a quiet ache in the space behind his smile. And the more you watched it, the more you started to wonder.

Where was her? The mother behind those eyes.

Later, the four of you found a shaded table near the panda exhibit, the air sticky with sunscreen and the squeals of nearby children.

The kids were coloring a shared map with highlighters when Nobara, suddenly, without looking up, said, “Dad, can Megumi come over again tomorrow?”

You stilled. So did Satoru. Megumi glanced up too. No one corrected her. Not at first. You looked over at Satoru slowly. He didn’t look away. Instead, he smiled — a small, breathless sort of smile.

“Maybe,” he said. “If his mom is okay with it.”

Your heart jumped.

But you just nodded, cheeks warming. “I think she’d say yes.”

The ride home was quieter. The kids knocked out in the back seat, your daughter’s cheek against Megumi’s head.

You stared out the window until Satoru finally asked, voice low, “You want to know about Megumi’s mom, don’t you?”

You looked at him carefully. “I do. But only if you want to tell me.”

He exhaled, the sound worn.

“She was someone I thought I’d love forever,” he said. “But I never got the chance to know if I actually would.”

You stayed silent.

“She left before Megumi turned two. Said she couldn’t do it — the parenting, the mess, the tether. She wanted freedom. I don’t hate her for that. But I don’t… admire her, either.”

You reached for his hand without thinking. And he let you hold it.

“She’s alive, somewhere,” he said. “But we don’t talk. Haven’t in years. I never wanted to tell Megumi anything that would make him feel unwanted.”

Your heart ached.

“Does he remember her?”

“Only in pieces. Mostly questions. I try to give him enough love for two people, but…” His voice trailed off. “Some days, it’s hard.”

You squeezed his hand.

“You’re doing a good job, Satoru.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Like he’d never seen someone say those words to him without expecting something back.

You whispered, “You’re a really good father.”

A pause. Then he leaned over. Pressed his forehead to yours.

And in the quiet, you could feel something shift between you — slow and warm and blooming. Not rushed. Not forced. Just real.

When he walked you upstairs that night, Nobara still sleeping in your arms, he didn't try to kiss you.

He didn’t ask for more.

He just looked at you, like he didn’t want to leave.

“Tell me next time you’re making bento,” he said.

You smiled. “I always do.”

And he turned and walked away — but not without one last glance over his shoulder, that quiet, boyish grin pulling at his lips.

And for the first time in years, as you closed the door behind you, the silence in your apartment didn’t feel lonely. It felt full.

You’d never seen where he lived. You’d seen the car, the way he dressed, the subtle signs of someone who lived more freely than most single parents. But his home?

It was a mystery. Until that Friday.

Part 2 >>>

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hanniebaeee · 6 months ago

Text

All I want for Christmas

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: some tears and making out

Genre: almost exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Summary: You and Chris are on the verge of a break up, but then, it's Christmas. And there's some magic in the air.

a/n: Merry Christmas everyone 💕 Love you all, and I can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support. Lots of love and wishes for the New year from me✨

The freezing December air bit at your cheeks as you stepped onto the rooftop of your apartment building. One of your neighbors, Jimin, handed you a cup of mulled wine, and you accepted with a smile. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the mug tightly, your eyes taking in the sight around you.

The party was in full swing - warm fairy lights strung across the rooftop, some of older women decorating gingerbread men. A beautiful Christmas tree gleamed in the center, but none of it reached you.

Your eyes darted around the crowd, searching for just one face.

Chris.

Your chest ached at the thought of him. It had been weeks since you last spoke. Since that disastrous fight. You'd both said things you didn't mean. It was just a poor way of shielding your own hearts from being hurt.

You loved him. God, you loved him. But sometimes love wasn’t enough. Or maybe…it was just too much.

You sighed and sipped your drink, leaning against the railing, letting the city lights blur your thoughts. And then, you felt it before you saw him. That quiet pull.

There he was.

Chris stood at the far end of the rooftop, near the makeshift stage, surrounded by kids.

He looked good. Too good. In that beautiful grey coat and pants, and that crisp white shirt that you loved so much on him. But his eyes - they were rimmed with dark circles, hollow in a way that absolutely shattered your heart.

You turned away, your breath hitching. How was it possible to miss him this much, when he's standing right there in front of you?

“Alright, alright, gather ‘round!” someone announced, pulling your attention to the stage.

The kids had taken seats on the front row, giggling with excitement. And then, Chris stepped forward to the mic, with a guitar in hand. And his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped.

“Settle down, settle down,” he told the kids, with a gentle smile on his face, his voice a little rough around the edges.

And then his eyes met yours once again, as he started to sing.

Silent night, holy night…

The world faded. His voice was like warm honey, dripping with emotion, so achingly tender, like he was pouring every ounce of himself into the song. You stood frozen, his voice wrapping around your chest, squeezing tight until tears pricked your eyes.

Towards the end of the song, you couldn’t take it anymore. Blinking rapidly, you slipped away, setting your mug down on a nearby table and heading for the stairwell.

You didn’t make it far.

Sinking onto the cold steps, you buried your head in your hands, shoulders trembling as sobs wracked your body.

“Y/N.”

The voice was breathless, and you looked up to see him standing there, his chest rising and falling like he’d run after you. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his eyes, wide, desperate.

“Chris, I…”

He didn’t let you finish. He sat on the step near you, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in close, his forehead brushing yours.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t be without you. I know I screwed up, I know things are messy, but…please. Don’t let this be the end. I need you, baby.”

You swallowed hard, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Chris, it’s not that simple. We keep hurting each other.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “Whatever it takes. I’ll fix it, because I love you more than anything. Please, just…don’t give up on us. Don't give up on me…”

The vulnerability in his voice shattered the last of your resolve. You surged forward, your lips crashing into his in a kiss, so desperate but sweet.

He groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you into his lap as you straddled him on the narrow staircase.

The stairwell was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of music drifting down from the rooftop. Chris’s hands roamed your back, pulling you as close as he could. Your lips moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and tender, years of love and pent-up longing pouring into every kiss.

“God, I missed you,” Chris whispered against your mouth, his soft wet lips so warm. His thumbs brushed along your jawline. “Missed this. Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your hands threading into his soft curls. “So much.”

His lips found yours again, hungrier this time, and you melted into him, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt. He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall and pulling you further into his lap. And the heat radiating from his body was enough to make your head spin.

“Chris…” you murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at him. His eyes held a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

“I love you, baby,” he said and tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness.

You pressed your lips to his and he hummed softly, his hands sliding down to your hips, and sliding under the hem of your sweater. His touch was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips slipped down your neck, and you tilted your head to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Chris, anyone can just walk by,” you managed to say, your voice tinged with both amusement and desire.

“And?” he teased, smiling as he nipped lightly at your collarbone.

You let out a laugh that quickly turned into a sigh as his hands slid higher under your sweater, his thumbs brushing the sides of your ribs. His kisses grew rougher, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you squirm.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. “But if Mrs. Park from 3B catches us, I’m blaming you.”

Chris chuckled, his grin boyish and utterly irresistible.

“Fair. But I think she’d just tell us to get married already.” he said, and you stilled, searching his eyes. There was no teasing in his gaze now, just pure love.

“Too soon?” he asked softly.

“No,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Not at all.”

With a radiant smile, he kissed you again, slow and deep.

“Come back to me,” he whispered against your lips. “Move back in with me. Let’s fix this. Together.”

Your heart swelled, and you nodded, tears spilling over.

“Okay, Channie. Let’s try again.”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere

Dividers: @strangergraphics

#stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst

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crowdedimagines · 30 days ago

Text

Tailspin III - Bradley Bradshaw

summary: Bradley is a single dad and his new neighbor catches his eye. The only thing is, she might have more baggage than what's in the moving truck... 4.3 K 🫶🏼

series list warnings: domestic violence, stalking, blood

“Matt. What are you doing here?” She asks, her pulse racing for both of them to hear. Matt looks up from her face to the machine, almost proud of the effect he has. Goosebumps raise all over her arms, she doesn't think it’s just from the chill of the air conditioning.

“You were hurt.” He answers, scooting closer in his chair making Y/n flinch.

“No Matt, what are you doing here?”

“I actually was already in California, believe it or not.” His proud smirk returning. Y/n can spot the evil in it now. He stands, his grip on her hand unwavering as he leans against the edge of her bed. “I wasn’t in Southport yet, I hadn't connected that dot yet. But when I got the call I came rushing.”

He reaches out a hand to touch her hair. She flinches again and he brushes his hand over her hair, ignoring her recoil. He was already in California?

“What call?” Her voice a whisper. Where is the doctor? Where is a nurse?

“I’m still your emergency contact on your insurance.” His smile full of malice, his grip dropped from her hair to her face. He doesn’t caress her cheek like Bradley does. He holds it there, trapped and forced in place. He’s almost broken this jaw before. “They called me when you were brought in, and I was so concerned. How could this have happened?”

The call button.

“You’re in the ER.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Her quick tongue getting the better of her.

Y/n’s hand races to grab the bed remote at her side, but Matt’s reflexes are better than hers. Especially in her state.

“How stupid of you.” He leans in closer to her face, she recoils even further into the bed, “Trying to use a nail gun yourself? How foolish could you be?”

He leans impossibly closer, his breath hot against her neck. She tries to turn even farther from him, attempting any distance possible.

“What? You don’t have anyone to help you anymore?”

“I don’t need anyone. You aren’t supposed to contact me, you’re voiding your parents' contract.” She reminds. She wants to add that he’s violating his restraining order right now too, but she’s too aware of the fact that she’s alone in this room. No matter how close the nearest person is.

“My parents are idiots.” He sighs, reaching a hand over her hair again.

“You need to leave.”

A nurse walks by the open door and Matt straightens himself up. She doubts he’s taking her word for it, more likely the reminder that they aren’t alone in his penthouse. Not in a soundproof room with distant neighbors. No, she will never be there again. He sets the bedside remote on the floor out of her grasp and grabs his jacket off the chair next to her bed.

“I’ll be seeing you, Y/n.” He slides his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, “Missed you, darling.”

He makes his way out the door and the second he’s out of view Y/n swings her legs over the side of the bed. She reaches down with pain in her thigh, but manages to grab it and press the call button. She hits it over and over and over-

“Miss L/n-”

“I need the police immediately.”

✿

Bradley races through the emergency doors with a kid at each side, Nat parking the Bronco. He looks around the near empty emergency room. There’s one lone family in the far corner waiting. Bradley makes his way to the main desk, he knows he’s seen the woman at reception before. He’s been at the hospital numerous times for work.

“I’m looking for Y/n L/n. She was taken in by EMTs earlier this evening.”

Bradley has to wait to sign them in as visitors and she reminds them that visiting hours will be closing shortly. He manages to pull some chief strings and she drops it completely. She walks them to the hall Y/n’s in and lets him know she’ll send Nat in their direction when she gets in.

He can’t tell if he’s pulling the kids, or they’re pulling him forward to her room number. They all act as a magnet for her door. Bradley pushes open the door to her room slowly, with almost no point as the kids tear off in front of him. The lamp next to the bed is on, casting a warm hue over the room rather than the bright overhead lighting. Y/n is awake and sitting up in bed when they open the door. Nick is the first one at her bedside, surprising them all. Bradley places a hand on top of Sadie’s shoulder to slow her down a little, taking their time in approaching the bed.

“Are you okay?” Nick asks, his breathing ragged. Bradley had been the one panicking the most, so the reaction from Nicky had to have been buried under the shock of it all. Bradley lets out a deep sigh of his own. He knew falling for someone came with the risk of someday losing them, but selfishly he didn’t consider the fact that it was a possibility for his children too. Y/n has been apart of their movie nights for weeks now, Bradley was afraid Nick may never warm up to her.

“Yeah, I’m okay buddy.” She smiles. Her eyes dart to Bradley’s for a second before her full focus comes back to Nick in front of her. Nick sees this and turns to look back at Bradley, tears in his eyes. Bradley simply nods to him, encouraging him. Nicky turns around and pulls himself up onto Y/n’s bed to give her a hug.

“Awe, Nicky.” She sighs, wrapping her arms around him tightly. One hand holds him close while the other rubs back and forth on his back, his grip tight around her neck. Her shock is apparent while looking over his shoulder to where Bradley and Sadie stand patiently at the foot of her bed.

“I’ll take you fishing.” He mutters, his words choppy while his breathing is still evening out. If it weren’t as quiet as it is in the room, he’s not sure she could've heard the words.

“I would love that.”

Her hand continues to rub his back, trying to get him to calm down. Giving him the time to pull away first. Sadie’s patience wears thin and she moves closer to try and climb up in the bed too.

“I don’t like hospitals.” Nick admits. Tears gather in Bradley’s eyes at his son’s admission. It doesn’t surprise him one bit, he’s never been a fan.

“I don’t either.” She whispers back.

“Be careful, please.” Bradley helps Sadie get up on the bed, careful to avoid the thigh that has white bandages wrapped around it. She joins the two of them, Nick and Sadie each taking a side. Bradley stands on guard, ready to yank his kids off of climbing all over her.

“Babe, are you okay?” Bradley asks, he can fully take her in now. Her thigh is bandaged and from what he heard she had to get stitches on her upper thigh because of how close it was to an artery. That’s why there was so much blood. In the process of passing out after calling 911, she fell and got a concussion. Her head wrapped in a similar bandage.

“I think so.” She smiles, Bradley finally lets out the breath he’s been holding since he found her door left wide open.

“You managed to call 911 before passing out. They think you hit your head pretty hard too, likely a concussion.”

She simply nods, “That would explain some things.”

Nat eventually finds them, bringing snacks with her. She claims hospital food is worse than a nail recoiling. Bradley manages to pull strings to stay the night with her. The kids also refusing to leave, sharing the couch. Nat takes the Bronco back to the house so she can stay there. She wants to take care of the mess at both houses before they all come back. Between the melted ice cream and the blood puddle, she’s got a busy night ahead of her, but she’s happy to help. The kids have long since passed out on the couch by the time Y/n convinces Bradley to ditch the chair and climb into bed behind her.

They talk quietly for a little while until Bradley looks up seeing someone walk in the open door. Two police officers, one reaching out to lightly knock on the door. Bradley stills, and Y/n next to him tries her best to sit up. Bradley knows them, frequently seeing them on the scene of crimes the rare times things actually happen in the small town.

“Matt was here.” She finally admits, Bradley’s face drops. How was this not the lead? He doesn’t like not knowing.

“I didn’t want to dive into that topic with them.” She nods to his kids sleeping on the couch behind him.

She feels guilty for buying the lead and letting it go on for so long without telling him. She never planned to hide it, but it wasn't exactly a conversation she wanted to have right away.

“Hello Miss. L/n.” The officer states, “The nurse called us and informed us of the situation. We just need to get your statement.”

“Frank, is there any way we could do that tomorrow morning?” Bradley asks, he stands from the hospital bed and makes his way over to them by the door. He tries to speak quietly due to the sensitive subject and the sleeping children. The officers nod right away, they see Sadie and Nick and Y/n nods from the bed.

“Yeah, Bradshaw.” They both nod, “We pulled her file. She already has a good case against him and he violated the restraining order. We’re just waiting for the hospital’s security footage to add to the report, we can wait on her statement for tomorrow.”

Bradley thanks them and gives them both a handshake. He climbs back in bed next to her, his heart racing at the revelation.

“He was already in California.” She admits, “He was contacted through my insurance emergency contact.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that he’d be back.” She shudders, “He’s delusional. He was acting like we were still together. He called me foolish and stupid for the accident.”

Bradley pulls her closer to his chest. Partially for the comfort of holding her closer, but also to hide his face. He doesn’t want her to see how angry he actually is.

“He’s never gonna get close again.” Bradley promises.

Shortly after that, Bradley reaches to turn off the lamp so they can sleep. The rest of the night is rough. Bradley is a warm and comforting presence, but with the ache in her head and the throbbing in her leg, it’s hard to sleep. The wires attached to her monitoring her status are not helping the situation.

“You need rest.” Bradley’s voice is soft. He hasn’t moved a muscle in a long time. Has he really been awake this entire time too? The doctor told them she needs rest while she’s being monitored. Her body went through a lot today.

“I know.” She pulls his arm around her, but she can tell he’s being cautious. She might as well be wrapped in bubble wrap. He spoons the backside of her, but she just wants to feel him. “This just isn’t how I pictured our first sleepover.”

“What? You didn’t want my kids to be sleeping five feet away from us?” He exhales a soft laugh from his nose and it makes Y/n join in.

“Yeah, it’s safe to say not what I had planned.”

“Planned?” His voice holding intrigue.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen what I had picked out to wear. Might’ve stopped your heart on the spot. Maybe it’s a good idea we’re in a hospital, I wonder if Nat would drop off-”

“You’re evil.” He lightly pinches her ribs to cut her off before she can continue. She snickers, but leans into his touch a little more.

“Hold me.”

“Y/n-”

“Please.”

He could never say no to that. With caution, he lets the full weight of his arm drop around her waist. He stretches his legs forward to weave between hers. He does it slowly and with care, waiting for any wince from her.

She finally gets her sleep.

The next morning Nat brings coffee for all of them, the doctor briefing them on everything they need to know for treatment. She is being discharged, they really only kept her for the night to be on the safe side. The cops circle back now that she’s feeling better and get her full statement. Bradley talks with them about keeping an eye out for her and they give him the advice to keep a close eye on her because it’s obvious Matt won’t be moving on so easily.

“She has a concussion so she should be under supervision for the next 24 hours. She’ll need to come back next week so we can check the stitches and run a couple tests.”

“Trust me Doc, I’m not letting her out of sight.” Bradley chuckles, his hand squeezing hers.

Bradley pushes her out in a wheelchair, which was required for her release. She can walk perfectly fine, even if Bradley wants to fawn over her every need. Nat has already pulled up the Bronco to the front. Nick pulls open the passenger door for her and Bradley helps her get up to her feet. It’s uncomfortable to put full weight on that leg so soon, but doable. He helps her up into the truck and returns the wheelchair before climbing in behind the steering wheel.

They drive back to their houses and he parks in his driveway. They’ve already determined she’ll be staying with them until she’s doing better. Bradley is serious about the supervision.

Bradley does help her make the trip back over to her own house to help her get everything she needs for the next few days. The first thing she notices when she walks in is how clean the floor is. The house smells like fabuloso which tells her someone cleaned for her. The blood.

Bradley doesn’t say a word about it, she has a feeling Nat is responsible since Bradley hasn’t left her sight since last night. He helps her pack everything she points out that she wants to bring. He lets her make the brave decision to walk back without any support, Bradley just carrying everything for her. The doctor said she would be feeling better today already but he wasn't convinced. By the time they reenter the Bradshaw home Sadie has drawn her a ‘get well soon’ card and is eager to present it when they return to the Bradshaw home. Nat is working on breakfast for everyone in the kitchen and there's a new guest sat at the barstools.

“Well you must be Miss Y/n L/n.” The blonde man nods, sizing up the women following Bradley into the house.

“and you must be Hangman.” She smirks, quick to catch on to who this must be.

“Oh no, what have you heard?” He asks, “All bad I hope.”

She rolls her eyes. Well, he lives up to the stories.

“Hangman, you better give her space. She’s got a concussion and your face is gonna trigger the nausea.”

Bradley breaks out to a loud laugh at Nat’s dig.

“Jake here is gonna keep an eye out on the house.”

“What?”

“Just for peace of mind. It can’t hurt to have another person around right now. At least until they find Matt.”

She gulps back her surprise and watches the gazes shift between each other in the room.

“Can I talk to you?” Y/n asks, Bradley’s head snapping back up in her direction.

He nods and follows her up the stairs to his bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him. She paces slowly, twisting the loose ring on her finger while she goes.

“I want to give you an out.” She blurts.

“An out?”

“An out. I know this has been a lot really early on in this relationship, and I want to give you an out. It’s your first relationship since Anna, and I don’t know if I’m the best way for you to ease back into dating.”

“I don’t want to ease back into dating.” He scoffs, “I want to date you.”

He takes her hands in his, mostly to get her to stop spinning that ring and walks them over to the edge of the bed to sit.

“I wasn’t suddenly ready after five years and you just happened to be there. You moved in, that’s what was significant. Are there people with less baggage out there? Yeah I’m sure. You’re someone I choose everyday to be in my life. I’ve lost a lot in my life, and I don’t give the people I love up so easily.”

“The people you what?” Her head snapping up.

“I’m being serious, I love you.” He pulls her head in close to press a kiss to her hairline, “The last twelve hours have made things clear if I didn’t know it already.”

“I love you, too.”

“Your past doesn’t scare me. Matt doesn’t scare me. You don’t scare me. Losing you does.”

✿

The rest of the day they take it easy. The two kids fight to help a couple times, racing to get water for Y/n. Fighting to grab a blanket or a pillow. Hangman tells a few stories from over the years, some from their pilot days and some recent. Nat ends up taking the kids down to walk on the beach and Jake has to head back to the firehouse. Y/n ends up taking a long nap on the couch, she’s feeling much better than before by the time she wakes up.

“Nat is gonna put the kids to bed for me, you feeling up for a walk?” He asks, pulling her up from the couch when she nods enthusiastically.

They leave out the backdoor and Bradley leads her down a trail that leads past all of the houses and heads down in the direction of the marshes.

“Let me know if you need a break.” He says over his shoulder, they continue to follow the trail by the waterline.

“Where exactly are we headed?”

“You’ll see.” Bradley smiles and reaches a hand back for hers to pull her along. They round another corner and in the short distance a lighthouse comes into view. Y/n knows she’s seen it way off in the distance, she can see it from her bedroom window but had no idea she could access it from their backyards. Bradley walks right up to the door and pulls a key out of his pocket for the lock.

“How do you have a key for this?” She asks, genuinely curious how he’s opening this door that looks older than the town itself.

“I’m the fire chief.” He answers with a smirk and a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“You say that like it should be the answer for everything.” She rolls her eyes simply.

“It kind of is.” He pulls the door open widely to reveal a spiral of stairs curving round and round as it goes higher. “Alright, get on.”

“What?” She asks.

“You think I’m letting you climb up those stairs?” He rolls his eyes, squatting down lower in front of her again.

“Bradley, I’ll be okay-”

“Baby, I literally train for this.” He turns back around to face her and insists yet again, “I could do this in my sleep.”

“Whatever you say.” She shrugs, knowing she won’t be the one to win this argument. He’s careful with his grip on her legs while carrying her. They circle round and round until they finally make it to the top. There's a small glass door that leads outside to the outer gallery. He sets her down and they step out to where he’s set up blankets, pillows, LED candles.

“Sorry you couldn’t have the real thing. That would’ve been too dangerous for me to live with.”

“You are in fact the fire chief.” She teases.

He pops a bottle of champagne and pours them each a glass and they sit down, legs hanging over the edge, forearms resting on the rails. The sun is slowly making its descent below the horizon causing the sky to burn orange.

“This is where I had wanted to tell you I love you, instead of blurting it on you this morning.”

“I love how you told me anyway.” She nods her head against his shoulder.

“And I love you for that, but that twice now we’ve made a big step while worrying about something else. I want to be able to sit here, just the two of us, and tell you I love you.”

He takes a big gulp and Y/n reaches out a hand for his.

“I love you, Y/n. I didn’t know if I would ever get the opportunity to say that to someone again. Didn’t think I would get to.” She watches him closely, her fingers brushing along the edge of his jaw.

“After everything that happened with the kids’ mom I started to lose hope. I thought that love just wasn’t in the cards for me anymore. My life has only been about them. Just surviving and being solid for them.” He clears his throat, “Then you moved in. You didn’t just show up for me, you showed up for them. You and Sadie were thick as thieves in an instant and somehow you’ve broken down Nick’s walls.”

“Bradley.”

“You make them feel safe. Seen. And you make me feel like I can dream again. Like I’m allowed to want more than just holding it together.” He reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear that the wind had taken.

“You mean all of that?”

“Every damn word.”

“I never thought I would be someone's future.” She shakes her head, “I didn’t know I could feel this loved. This wanted and cared for.”

“Well get used to it.”

They stay wrapped up in each other, watching the sun completely disappear. The sky is still light, but with pink splashed throughout.

“So, just to be clear if I suddenly insist on matching tee shirts, you’re still in.” She teases.

“I survived a jet engine flameout midair, I can survive matching tee shirts.”

“Don’t tempt me.” “I’m not saying they wouldn't somehow go missing in the laundry after a couple weeks.” He chuckles.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You wouldn’t stay mad.” He leans in to press his lips to her ear, “You loveeeee me.”

“Yeah, for whatever reason.” She rolls her eyes and turns to press a kiss to his neck. He shivers when she makes her way up to where his jaw meets his neck.”

“This is dangerous territory for two people who have to go back to a house full of people.” He sighs. She continues her work on him, catching his lips every few kisses leaving him breathless.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just showing a little affection for the man I love.” Her voice convincingly innocent. He draws in a breath when she trails a finger down his chest.

“You’re kissing me like you’re trying to charm me out of my pants.”

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

He turns into her now, their lips finally meeting longer than a few seconds. This is hungrier, more breathless. He pulls her into his chest, leaning his back against the pillows that sit on the floor behind them. He pulls her along with him and his lips have a hold on hers. They only break when Y/n starts to laugh.

“God, you kiss like a man who’s been on a dry spell.” She chuckles, “It’s only been a couple days.”

“Before you “dry spell" was my middle name.”

“Mmm, Bradley Dry Spell Bradshaw. Has a nice ring to it.” She carefully and slowly swings her leg over his lap in order to straddle him.

“Yeah? You want me to make it wetter?” He grins as he places confident hands on her hips.

“That was terrible.” She shakes her head, leaning down to connect their lips again nonetheless.

“You love it.”

“I love you. The terrible jokes are something I tolerate for the abs.” She won’t deny her grin, he leans back taking her with him. A cocky grin is plastered to his face.

“So the mustache, the abs, and the kids. Good to know what I really bring to the table.”

“Don’t forget the pilot uniform. That’s gotta be lying around the house somewhere.”

“It definitely is.” He nods, already trying to remember which closet he has them tucked away in.

“Well, I do have a birthday this year.” He bursts out in a laugh. “Noted.”

“So, am I going to have to beg.” She asks, her hands reaching for the button of his jeans.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes, Bradley.” “Are you sure, because-”

“I see this lighthouse everyday. I would think about you and I, right here right now every time I look out and see this lighthouse. Every time I look out my window.”

“Tempting.” He whines.

“My bedroom window.”

“Tempted.” He closes his eyes, her voice and his imagination, having the better of him. He can’t deny how much he would love that. Every time she looks out that window she would think of the two of them together? Too good to pass up on.

“Won’t you just love on me?”

He reaches to brush hair back behind her ear again, his hand lingering on her jaw to pull her close again.

“You won’t have to ask me that twice.”

more. to. come. this will not me the last of Matt.

AHHHHHHHH!! another part is already in the works you guys! i so so appreciaite the love this has been getting, this family is something else i stg. THANK YOU!

#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #tailspin

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pretentious-blonde · 4 months ago

Text

stay for dinner?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was

warnings: steve self-sabotaging, crying

a/n: part 4, can be read as a standalone too. PLS give me ideas for these two if you liked them!! they currently have my heart <3 (may or may not write nsfw, if i get an idea for that, so be on the lookout!)

series masterlist

Steve set a freshly rewound tape on the countertop. The sign on the wall stating: Be kind: Rewind, clearly had not been making an impact on the general public. And if that wasn’t enough, he was desperately trying not to roll his eyes as a certain curly-haired boy to his left, perched on the desk as if it was a lounge chair.

Dustin had been pleading with him for the past ten minutes—some elaborate scheme involving a comic book store in the next town over. Steve had already told him “no” at least four times, but the word didn’t seem to register in the boy's vocabulary. He became aware he was fighting a losing battle as the kid refused to budge.

“Please?” Dustin implored again, swinging his legs idly as he watched Steve rewind the day’s returns.

“For the last time,” Steve muttered, eyeing a slightly worn Back to the Future case with mild dismay, “I already told you no.”

He was trying to figure out how he could make his declaration any clearer.

Dustin huffed, crossing his arms. “I can’t drive yet, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that’s not my problem,” Steve shot back, sliding the VHS into its designated slot behind the counter.

“I’m telling you, it’s only like a fifteen-minute drive. Tops.” Dustin glanced at the clock pointedly. “Plus, your shift ends soon. What else are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know—go pick up my girlfriend?” Steve flashed him a wry smile, letting the term roll off his tongue with pride.

Girlfriend.

It still felt new, but it also felt good. He thought it would take longer for him to assimilate to his new title as boyfriend, but he fell into the role as easily as breathing. Something that felt completely natural.

No longer was he the designated driver for his friends after work, he did the stuff that boyfriends do. And that included spending most evenings with you.

There were a few times you insisted he needed to spend time with his own friends, but he still wished you were there. Hopefully, you would be comfortable enough to tag along with them in the future. God knows he was more than willing to show you off.

“Oh yeah?” Dustin sat up, his posture straightening. “So it’s official now?”

A tiny grin tugged at Steve’s mouth. “Yeah.” He closed a drawer of tapes and rested his hands on the counter, staring at Dustin with a slightly smug expression. “It’s official.”

“Good for you, man. Seriously. That’s nice.” He said, seemingly out of obligation rather than pure interest. Then, snapping back to the real topic at hand. “But I’m not leaving until you agree to take me to the comic book store.”

“That’s like—” Steve glanced at the clock above the television sets for rent, “an hour from now.”

“Yep,” Dustin said, unabashed. “I’m persistent.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, massaging the tension in his temples. “She’s coming here once my shift is over. I can’t just bail on her to drive you around.”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Then bring her along! Maybe she’ll like it!”

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening.” A short laugh escaped Steve before he could stop it. “I’m not dragging her to a comic book shop just so you can blow your allowance on some special-edition nonsense.”

“Hey, it’s not nonsense!” Dustin protested. “They have the rare issues I can’t find anywhere else. And who knows, maybe your girlfriend’s into comics!”

“Why do I even argue with you?” Steve groaned to himself, returning to the stack of tapes in front of him—anything to have an excuse not to keep looking at Dustin’s pleading face. “You just keep going and going. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s because I know you’ll give in eventually,” Dustin quipped, flashing that self-assured grin that made Steve want to either adopt him or toss him out a window—possibly both.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Steve insisted, though the conviction in his voice wavered slightly.

Dustin was right about one thing: Steve did have a tendency to cave when it came to the kids, especially the ones he’d practically helped raise. But, as he filed away the last of the returns, a pang of guilt rippled through him.

He didn’t want to let you down. Truly, he didn’t. You were swinging by just to see him. It was a Sunday after all, so he was finishing early, and he wanted to spend as long as he could with you.

Unfortunately, he did feel a little regretful about letting his friend down. Perhaps he was spending a bit too much time with you—which wasn’t a crime—but he was struggling to recall the last time he spent alone time with Dustin.

The kid must have caught the trace of hesitation in Steve’s expression. Finally, a crack in his armour.

“Look,” he said, in a rare moment of sincerity, “just ask her, okay? If she says no, I’ll drop it.”

Steve mulled that over, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he relented, not hiding his exasperation. “I’ll let you pitch your case when she gets here.”

Dustin pumped a fist triumphantly. “Yes! You won’t regret this.”

“I regret a lot of things, Henderson,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Now let me finish up so I can actually clock out at a decent time.”

“Deal,” Dustin agreed, but he made no move to vacate the desk. Instead, he just kept swinging his legs, watching with interest as Steve tried to busy himself with the returns.

The kid was relentless—he had to give him that.

He was half-leaning against the counter when you walked in, the lazy Sunday light spilling through the windows, making him look almost golden.

You instantly spotted him, features slightly fatigued but nonetheless tender. The boy who inserted himself into your daunting new life, making you feel less alone. The boy who made you feel safe whenever your eyes met—warm, reassuring, sometimes bashful if you caught him at the right moment.

Your gaze drifted to the curly-haired kid perched on the front desk, chattering away while Steve fiddled with cases. You hadn’t met him yet, but had an inkling as to who it might be from you and Steve’s many conversations.

The second Steve caught sight of you, the slight crease in his brow eased, and a genuine smile lit up his face. He straightened, set the tapes aside, and practically melted as you approached, arms opening to fit you just right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm hug. His vest brushed against your cheek. You tilted your head just enough to feel the soft press of his lips against your temple.

Even though the two of you were official, your cheeks still reddened at his action. It often seemed he didn’t mind that you had company, or maybe he just didn’t care. Or perhaps he didn’t realise how brazen he could be.

Either way, you weren’t going to stop his displays of affection. You enjoyed knowing he was proud to call you his.

“Hi,” you said quietly, relishing the way he lingered in that hug, not quite wanting to let go just yet.

“This is Dustin,” he turned, gesturing to the boy with the curly hair. “I told you about him, remember?”

“Right!” You offered the boy a friendly smile, glad your assumption was correct. “So great to finally meet you. Steve mentions you all the time.”

Dustin stared for a moment, then blinked like he was recalibrating.

“Um… hey,” he said, his tone surprisingly timid. “Yeah, you too.”

That made Steve grin even wider.

Dustin, rendered speechless? He never thought he would see the day. He looked at his awestruck expression and glanced over at you smugly.

Yeah, he did that. He isn’t quite sure how, but he did that.

“You ready to go?” you asked, glancing up at him over your shoulder. At your question, Steve let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

“Apparently, someone wants me to be their personal chauffeur,” he said, with a pointed look at Dustin. “Says I need to drive him to a comic book store.”

“A comic book store? But there’s one like four streets over, right?”

Steve spread his hands in exasperation. “Exactly what I said!”

Dustin threw his hands up. “That one sucks! Their selection is terrible and they get new shipments like once a month!”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He sounds like a tiny professor with the fervour in his voice. Steve shot you a look of abject guilt, like he was already imagining leaving you hanging.

“Would I be the world’s biggest jerk if I did this?” he asked, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He hated to be the one to make decisions like this, picking sides and disappointing someone in the process.

“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Gently, you shook your head. “It’s still early, right?” You gestured to the clock on the wall—three o’clock, give or take a few minutes. “I’ve been all over the place today, honestly an hour or so just to get everything in order would be amazing.”

“I mean…” Dustin started, looking between you and Steve, not sure if you're just being nice or actually had something to do. “You’re welcome to come with?”

But you waved him off with an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but seriously, I’ve got a lot to catch up on at home. You two enjoy, please, don’t let me stop you.”

Dustin beamed at you, grateful for the positive turn of events. Steve, on the other hand, still looked torn, torn between not wanting to inconvenience you and also not wanting to bail on his friend.

“Alright,” he relented, exhaling in relief when he realised you were genuinely okay with this. “I’ll… yeah, I’ll drop him off, and we’ll probably poke around for a bit if they really have something he’s looking for.”

“No worries.” You leaned forward, reaching for his hand, not missing the smitten glaze in his eyes as you squeezed it. “Swing by mine after, okay? I should be done by then.”

Steve’s posture relaxed, gratitude colouring his eyes. “Okay,” he murmured, “deal.”

He leaned in, cupping your jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time—a sweet, unhurried gesture that made your cheeks flush—again.

There was a shuffle behind him, and you could sense Dustin being extremely polite (or maybe just temporarily stunned) enough not to comment. Steve pulled back smiling, as you made your way to the exit.

“See you, Steve,” you said, backing toward the door. You cast a quick wave at Dustin. “Later, Dustin.”

“Uh, bye,” Dustin managed, raising a hand in farewell.

And with that, you slipped outside, leaving Steve to shoulder his shift into driver mode—though, judging by the fond look on his face, he wasn’t half as annoyed about it anymore.

He just got to rub it in Dustin's face, that yes, he had a sweet girlfriend. And yes, she really was that nice. All the time. Probably when she shouldn't be.

As far as he was concerned, if you needed it, he could haul Henderson around for an afternoon to give you some free time.

“You,” Dustin said, pointing at Steve once you were gone, “are one lucky dude.”

Steve snorted, but it came out more like an affectionate laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, casting a glance at the door you’d just left through. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he cruised down the main road, Dustin rambling away in the passenger seat. The kid’s feet bounced on the floor mat, all brimming energy. Steve had to admit—it was nice to see him so pumped. But that didn’t stop him from cringing slightly at every new question that spilled out of his mouth.

Right now he was the subject of a very intense interrogation, and while he had mentioned he was seeing someone new, clearly that was not enough information for the teenager sitting next to him.

“So,” Dustin said, leaning forward, “this girl—your girlfriend—what does she do?”

“She’s writing for the paper in town.” He said, feeling a surge of pride in his chest as he got to gush about your achievements. “Gonna be a big-shot journalist someday. That’s what she wants, anyway.”

Dustin let out a short laugh, amused in a way that made Steve raise an eyebrow. “Why’re you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m just—” Dustin shook his head, lips quirked in a grin. “You and your… type.”

Steve gave him a side-eye glance. “My type?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Dustin scoffed, half-exasperated, half-teasing. “Smart writer girls. You know—the go-getter, brainy ones.”

Steve’s initial instinct was to shrug it off, but something nagged at him.

He felt a twinge of déjà vu that he didn’t love.

“Yeah, okay, I can sorta see what you mean.” He spoke cooly, but the heat rising in his chest was anything but.

“Admit it,” Dustin pressed on. “You like girls that are just a little… out of your league.”

Steve bristled, tightening his grip on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, think about it." Dustin shrugged, apparently not noticing the defensiveness in Steve’s tone. "The girls you’ve dated. They’re super smart, super driven. It’s cool how you have managed to pull this off twice.”

Steve forced a laugh, though it felt hollow on his tongue.

Pull this off? That the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Right, yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence, Henderson.” He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach. “Well, if they like me, then I must be doing something right.”

“For sure. No denying you’ve come a long way.” Dustin nodded, tapping the dashboard with one finger. “Remember how you used to act at Scoops? Man, you were just—”

Steve groaned, cutting him off as he steered into a small parking lot beside a rundown building with a neon sign advertising Comics & Collectibles. Not wanting to relive failed moments from his youth any longer than he had to.

“Alright, we’re here.” He put the car into park, his posture now rigid. “You’ve got thirty minutes, max. Then we’re outta here.”

“Thirty minutes?” Dustin repeated, eyes bulging. “But—”

“Non-negotiable,” Steve said flatly, giving him a pointed look, suddenly in a sour mood. “I’ve got places to be.”

“Fine.” Dustin grumbled under his breath but ultimately acquiesced, grabbing his backpack and popping open the door. “Thirty. Starting… now.”

He hopped out, the door slamming shut behind him. Steve exhaled, jaw still tense. He watched the kid dart across the lot and pull open the shop’s glass door with excitement.

Alone at last, Steve let his head fall back against the headrest.

Are you really that much out of his league? The question looped around in his mind like a broken record.

He could laugh it off—he had enough practise doing that—but he started remembering how he felt so inadequate around Nancy.

You made him feel needed, cared for, that much was certainly true. But how long would you need him, really?

The notion stirred up old insecurities he’d thought he’d buried.

The rational side of his mind told him he had nothing to worry about. If you liked him—chose him—that was enough, right?

Sighing, he pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. Twenty-nine minutes until he could drop Dustin off and head straight to your place. He suddenly wished the clock would run faster.

Because if there was one thing he couldn’t wait to do, it was lose himself in you. If only for the evening.

Your familiar doorstep was supposed to feel welcoming, as it had so many times before, but Steve’s mind was a bundle of half-formed worries as he stood in the familiar space.

He hated to admit when things got to him, but Dustin’s teasing—albeit lighthearted—had, indeed, gotten to him. The doubts clouding his mind like a soft static he couldn’t push away.

The one statement he kept circling back to was the whole "out of his league" idea. I mean, yeah, from the outside looking in, it could be the case. But he had something to offer, right?

If nothing else was true, he at least had a decent enough face, and his personality had come a long way from high school. Hopefully, other people could see that too.

He forced his mind into silence as he took a deep breath, knocking twice in quick succession.

When you opened the door, dressed in soft, comfortable clothes that looked unfairly adorable on you, he felt something in his chest unclench. Even on a lazy Sunday—one where you had every right to be tired from your own job—you still radiated a classic warmth, one that he was selfishly drinking up, grateful to be the one basking in it.

“Hey,” you said, smiling so easily that a bit of the tension in his shoulders melted.

“Hey, angel” he echoed, stepping inside when you ushered him through the threshold. The air hit him first—warm and fragrant, hinting at something savoury on the stove. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

Little did he know, you had already taken care of most of your errands that morning. Knowing you’d be spending the afternoon with Steve, you’d gotten up a little earlier than usual to make sure everything was in order. But when you saw the desperate look on Dustin’s face as he pleaded with your boyfriend to take him to the store, an idea sparked. A little surprise for him—one you hoped would land well.

“Figured I’d make dinner.” You gave a pleased little shrug. “We don’t always get Sundays like this, and I know you had to work, so…”

“Wait,” he said, blinking, “you made dinner?”

His eyes softened as he took in your words, letting them settle in his chest. He tried not to feel indebted—but God, he wished he stopped to pick up flowers or something.

“Yup,” you confirmed, leading him toward the kitchen. “Nothing fancy. Just has to reduce on the stove for a while longer, but I wanted it ready for when you came by.”

Steve’s heart twisted in two directions at once. On one hand, it was the sweetest gesture, and certainly one that should have put his mind at ease. On the other, his mind kept whispering to him. He questioned if he was even worth this kind of effort.

The bluntness of the thought shocked him a little, but he couldn’t render it completely false. He felt like he owed you something.

“You didn’t have to go all out for me,” he murmured, smiling at you in an almost apologetic manner.

“I know.” You reached up to brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “I wanted to.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thanks, angel,” he said softly, the pet name rolling off his tongue with more tenderness than he intended. Like he wasn’t supposed to be using it. “Seriously.”

You tugged him gently into the living room, where he sank down onto the couch, exhaling a sigh of relief. The day had felt so long—the slow hours, Dustin’s energy, the drive out of town—but now, in the familiarity of your apartment, it all felt calm. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

You curled against him, fitting neatly at his side as he draped an arm around you. The soft haze of a lamp cast a cosy halo over the bookshelf across the room, the very one he’d helped you build not long ago. He couldn’t help but notice the extra row of spines he didn’t remember seeing before.

“Hey,” he teased, nudging your head and gesturing to the neatly lined novels. “I thought you said no more books until you’d read all the ones you owned.”

You lifted your head to follow his gaze, a faint grin tugging at your lips. “I did read them. Which means I’m allowed new ones.”

“All of them? In, what—two weeks?”

He barely finished reading Salinger in senior year, and that took him months to work through.

“About that,” you said, sounding almost sheepish. “They were good, and I got on a roll. You know how it is when a book just sucks you in?”

He didn’t really, but now he felt as though he should.

“That’s…impressive.” He replied safely, not wanting to bring down your mood with his lack of literature knowledge. Especially when you seemed so pleased that he was there in the first place.

You used that moment to shift closer, your cheek pressing against the broad line of his shoulder. He felt the warmth you emitted, and if he allowed himself, he could imagine that maybe you enjoyed his company as much as he loved yours.

“So,” you said, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. “How was work? How’s Dustin?”

Steve hesitated, momentarily tripping over the idea that you’d be interested in the mundane details of his shift or the kid’s comic book haul. But the way you were watching him—like you actually cared—made him sigh and lean into it.

“Pretty standard, y’know?” He ran his free hand over his jaw, trying to sound casual. “Dustin got what he wanted, as usual. He’s like a force of nature—hard to say no.”

You smiled, amused. “That kid seems unstoppable.”

“Definitely unstoppable,” Steve agreed, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Eventually, after his debrief of today's events, you got up to check on dinner, stirring the pot and releasing another wave of that delicious smell. He watched, heart clenching again with gratitude and guilt.

He could see how careful you were, minding the heat, adding a pinch of seasoning, taking the time to make something special just for him.

He wondered if he could do anything to help, something to be useful again.

It felt so domestic that for a second he let himself imagine a future where this could be the norm—where the two of you shared little traditions, teased each other about groceries, woke up side by side. Equally happy with what the other had to offer.

Soon enough, you both ended up at the small kitchen table, plates filled with a hearty meal that made him groan with delight after each bite. You just laughed, pleased by his genuine appreciation.

“Good?” you asked, grinning as he nodded enthusiastically, mouth still full.

It was good. Really good. Made only better by the fact that you made it for him.

Why didn’t he think of something like this?

At this rate, he was going to have to pull a screw loose from your bookshelf just so he could prove himself again.

When you’d eaten more than enough to satiate your hunger, you cleaned up together, bumping hips in the process, trading playful glances as you washed and dried the dishes.

He followed you back to the couch, happy to follow where you dragged him hand first. You spent the rest of the evening chatting aimlessly about books, random gossip from your workplace, and his occasional run-ins with Robin or the kids.

There was nothing particularly grand or momentous about it; just a gentle closeness. Though he was worried it was too mundane, if his crappy jokes were enough to keep this thing going.

All too soon, the clock on the wall struck a sober reminder: Monday morning was lurking around the corner, and you gave him an apologetic look.

“I hate to kick you out,” you said softly, “but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He pretended to huff in annoyance, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile. You were the one with a real job, after all. “Responsibilities and all that.”

At the door, you hugged him, chin hooking over his shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on your jumper, mixed with the lingering aroma of dinner. It felt safe in your arms—safer than he’d felt all day.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair, voice thick with more emotion than he intended to reveal.

“For what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, sensing his unease.

“For dinner,” he shrugged, trying to hide the lump in his throat. “For letting me hang out… for, y’know, being you.”

A smile lit up your features, and you rose on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

It should’ve been reassuring, but that old worry nipped at him once again.

You gave him a playful nudge out into the hallway. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always,” he promised, mustering a half-smirk. But the moment the door closed behind him, the warmth drained away like someone had shut off a heat lamp.

By the time he slid into his car and started the engine, he was already thinking about Dustin’s words, "girls out of his league."

Mentally, he scolded himself. But the thought stuck like glue, stubborn and unmoving. He glanced at your apartment window—light still glowing from inside—and his chest ached with longing.

You liked him. You even cooked for him, fully aware that he would have been just as content with a crappy pizza or diner fries.

So why couldn’t he let himself just be happy?

With a quiet sigh, he pulled away from the curb, leaving the comfort of your home behind. And as he drove through the sleepy streets of Hawkins, he couldn’t quite loose the hollow sense that he was missing something.

Good things always had a way of escaping him, and he couldn’t imagine how this would be any different.

You’ve never felt unsettled since moving to Hawkins—at least, not until now.

Work at the Hawkins Post can be demanding, but those pressures were somewhat tangible: deadlines, edits, the joyous feeling of being undermined for basic input. You can handle all that. But suddenly finding your supposedly devoted boyfriend slipping through your fingers for reasons you don’t understand?

That feels far worse than any work stress could ever be.

All week, you’ve told yourself not to overreact. Steve might just be busy or tired or dealing with something personal. You didn’t want to pry, and after coming clean about your own struggles, you assumed he would do the same thing. Take his own advice or whatever.

But the excuses keep piling up, and you can’t ignore the changes in his behaviour. It started with some half-hearted reasons to hang up the phone in the evenings—when he used to plead with you to stay just little longer—usually ending up with one of you falling asleep on the line, listening out for the others breathing to steady before ending the call.

The whole week he didn’t even mention spending the weekend together. Usually that was sacred time, with him arguing with Kieth and Robin to please let him have the evening shifts rather than the morning. He enjoyed waking up lazily next to you, not rushing out the door before he had his fill.

By Saturday, you decide you can’t wait for answers any longer. You head out, crossing the familiar street, eventually pushing open the door to Family Video. Robin’s face pops up from behind the counter, the bell signalling a customer.

“Hey,” Robin calls, stacking tapes. “If you’re looking for Steve, you just missed him. Morning shift—he took off like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.” You attempt a polite smile. You were already aware of his absence, watching his BMW speed away from the store, feeling even worse when it turned the opposite direction to your place. “I actually, uh… came to see you.”

“Me? Really?” She seemed half-surprised, half-intrigued.

“Yeah. I… I think I need your help.” The words spill out in a rush. You don’t realise how anxious you sound until Robin sets aside her tapes, giving you her full attention. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, but I’m kind of at a loss. You’re Steve’s best friend, and—” You pause, cheeks warming. “I don’t really know many people here yet.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Hey, hey, no need to apologise. What’s going on?” Her eyes narrow, the smallest spark of protectiveness lighting behind them. “Did Steve do something stupid? Because I can give him a good slap if—”

You lift your hands, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. Or… not exactly?” Your voice wavers. “I just—wanted to know if he still… likes me? Because he’s been distant, and I can’t think what I did wrong.”

Robin’s mouth opens on a short laugh, but then she sees you’re serious.

“Oh. Wait—you’re for real?”

Heat pools in your cheeks. It sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud, but you press on. You were here already, so if she knew something, you would rather just get this over with.

“He’s barely returned my calls, and this weekend he hasn’t even tried making plans. Last week I cooked for him—nothing fancy, just dinner—and he acted so weird about it, almost like he wanted to be anywhere else. I keep replaying it in my head, wondering if I came on too strong or something.”

She watches you carefully, reading the tension in your posture, the way your hands keep twisting into your sleeves.

“Okay, okay,” she says, gentler now. “I promise I’m listening. You think you scared him off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” You look at the floor, biting your lip. “This past week, he’s barely tried to see me at all. Usually he’s so—well, so Steve, you know? But now it’s like he’s ignoring me, except he’s still in town.”

Robin sets aside the tapes completely, leaning her elbows on the counter. Yes, she knew how Steve had been acting, practically besotted with you. So this fast turnaround was odd, but then again, Steve had his moments. Though they usually came with more of an explanation than this.

“That’s… not good,” she concedes. “But trust me, from an outside perspective, he’s been head over heels for you since day one. My guess is he’s the problem, not you. It might be in that thick skull of his, you know? It doesn’t help that it’s covered with all that hair.”

“I feel so stupid, but I didn’t know who else to ask." You let out a shaky laugh. "I’m just… worried I messed up somehow. I know it’s weird—”

“Hey, you’re not weird.” Robin shakes her head, reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “You’re worried—totally normal. Let me talk to him, okay? I’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Your eyes widen. “No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to cause drama—”

She interrupts you with a wave of her hand. “Drama is my middle name, apparently, thanks to Steve. Let me handle him. I’ll be subtle. Trust me.”

A mischievous grin tugs at her lips. You have a feeling she’s never been subtle in her life, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Only if you’re sure. And please, maybe don’t mention I… came here? I don’t want him thinking I’m this desperate, clingy girlfriend who needs constant reassurance.”

“Desperate? Clingy? He’s been the clingiest guy I’ve ever seen—until now.” She snorts. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know he adores you. He’s probably just… freaking out about something. He’s good at that. Self-sabotage is his specialty.”

The tight knot in your chest loosens just a bit, but her words set you on edge a little. You instantly think that you are the one freaking him out, coming on too strong. But you decide that silence is the best option here.

“Thank you,” you say, voice still unsteady. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She offers a supportive smile. “Hey, you’re welcome to drop by anytime, you know? If you wanted someone else to talk to or something, but no pressure.”

“I might take you up on that.” You tell her, relieved.

“Good. Now go home, put on some music, try to relax. I’ll handle the Harrington situation.”

You’re not entirely sure what that entails, but her confidence is reassuring. After one more grateful nod, you thank her again and head back outside. Not quite feeling relief, but certainly not feeling any worse.

Steve juggled a soda cup in one hand and a stack of tapes in the other. He had the evening off yesterday and had spent it binge watching crappy rom coms while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest. Trying to find some solace in those mundane guys managing to snag the unattainable, popular girl. They never showed what happened after the whole kiss and get-together thing. Life imitates art in a way.

He also had the day off today—normally something that would have him beaming from the inside out—but he made the decision to spend it alone. A decision that had been laced with anxiety, which now leaked into a mild depression. His nerves overshadowed any relief he felt about his schedule.

He unlocked the door to Family Video, hoping he’d be able to stash the unchecked tapes and slip out before Robin noticed the cloud hanging over him. No such luck.

She was early for her shift, waiting at the counter, arms crossed, jaw set. Her eyes locked on him the second he stepped inside.

“You.” She spoke the word like it was a challenge. “Explain yourself.”

He paused, heartbeat picking up, not expecting this level of hostility.

“What did I do now?” he asked cautiously, setting the tapes down. “I planned to bring them back before opening, I swear, I just—”

Robin cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Not that. Your girlfriend came in here yesterday, totally distressed. She thought she did something wrong. Actually asked if she might’ve scared you off by, and I quote, ‘making you dinner.’”

Steve’s stomach flipped. A wave of guilt slammed into him, sharper than he’d expected. He swallowed, remembering how you’d stood in your apartment, smiling so warmly, how you’d carefully stirred a pot of sauce just for him.

God, he’d been such an idiot.

He thought that you would have been too busy with work this week to notice his silence. He thought he hid his emotions better than that.

“She thinks that?” he managed to say, voice tight. “She really asked that?”

“Of course she did.” Robin slammed her palm on the counter. “Now, are you freaking out, or what? Because if you are, just say so.”

“Me? Freaking out?” A shaky laugh left Steve’s lips. Freaking out was putting it mildly. “I’m fine, Rob.”

She shook her head. “You’re clearly not,” she persisted. “Last week you’re gushing about your new relationship, and now it’s radio silence. What’s up with you? Spill it.”

He knew there was no getting out of this, well, unless he literally turned and ran out the store. But that seemed a bit extreme and would likely only delay this conversation.

He dreaded this part. The whole talking about his feelings and his subsequent inadequacies.

“It’s going to sound dumb,” he muttered, gaze dropping to the floor.

“More so than usual?” She teased.

“Robin.”

“Right, no.” She muttered. “Wrong time. Sorry.”

She sighed and walked round the counter so she was standing directly in front of him. Both so she could gauge his reaction and bring him some semblance of comfort. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like…” He trails off, looking away from her pitiful expression.”She’s going places, you know? Really going places. I’m just… here.”

Her expression softened a fraction. “What brought this on?”

Steve felt the memories swirl—Dustin’s pointed remarks, the creeping sense of déjà vu reminding him how Nancy once left him behind.

“Dustin,” he admitted after a beat. “He said some stuff… about me only dating smart girls who are outta my league. It got stuck in my head, okay?”

“Henderson?” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Steve, he’s a kid. A kid with zero concept of normal relationship drama. You’re really letting that get to you?”

He tried to muster a shrug, but his chest felt tight. No matter what angle he looked at it, it was a statement that he couldn’t disprove.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” he mumbled. “I don’t have a big plan or anything. My job’s okay, but it’s not exactly a career, and I’m certainly not saving big money—there’s no future path. Meanwhile, she’s got all these ideas, ambitions, everything.”

Robin stared, seeming torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him upside the head.

“God, you’re self-sabotaging again.”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are!” she insisted, stepping forward. “Textbook Harrington behaviour: good thing’s happening, so you panic and decide you don’t deserve it. I just watched her walk out of here looking like someone kicked her puppy. She literally thinks she scared you off.”

Steve’s gut twisted further. He pictured you, eyes glassy with worry, probably replaying every moment you’d spent together. After your heart to heart the other day it became clear that you tended to overthink, he didn’t realise you could be doing that because of him.

The notion that you blamed yourself made his chest ache.

“I… I didn’t mean to make her feel that way,” he said, voice hollow.

“So don’t.” Robin pressed her lips together. “Fix it. You’re good at that sort of thing.”

He exhaled shakily, setting the soda on the counter before he spilled it with his shaky hands. “How?”

“You have today off, right?” Robin asked, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“She does too,” Robin replied pointedly. “And it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. So do something nice for her. Show her you’re not running away. Because, believe me, if you keep pulling back, it’s gonna look like you are.”

Steve nodded, trying to will away the tightening in his throat. “What do I even plan? Something big? Flowers? Fancy dinner? She’s already done the cooking thing—”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. “You’re not exactly wooing the queen of England. Just do something that says ‘I appreciate you and want to be around you.’ Could be a picnic, a drive, a movie—whatever. Don’t overthink it.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “But that’s kinda my specialty these days.”

“Clearly,” Robin muttered, though her tone was gentler now. “Look, the point is, she’s into you. She made that super obvious. The only person doubting it is you. So cut it out.”

Steve paused, letting her words settle. A small seed of hope unfurled in his chest, reminding him why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, gaze locked on the floor. Then he lifted his head, determined. “I’ll, uh… yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Robin’s tense posture eased, and she gave a curt nod. “Good. Because if you break that girl’s heart over your own insecurities, I’ll murder you. In a loving, best-friend sort of way.”

Steve managed a small grin. “In a loving way, sure.”

“Get out of here before Keith shows up.” She smirked, waving him off. “And don’t forget to call her, for God’s sake.”

Snatching up his soda again, Steve headed for the door, heart still pounding but a faint sense of relief settling in.

From the moment Steve picked up the phone at ten that morning—voice shaky with nerves—he knew he was taking a gamble.

He could feel the cautious edge in your tone, the coolness that suggested you were bracing yourself. Still, he invited you over to his place for that evening, willing the dread in his stomach to subside. He told himself it would be okay, that he’d find the right words.

Robin had told him to talk, so talk he would.

Meanwhile, you spent your Sunday feeling a dread so heavy it threatened to pin you to the floor.

Why else would Steve have been so distant all week? The only logical conclusion was that he’d decided this wasn’t working. After all, you’d had that conversation with Robin—maybe she’d reported back to him, told him something that sealed the deal.

It made sense in a heartbreakingly logical way.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you felt like you’d gone through every stage of grief. You dragged yourself to your car and made the drive toward the Harrington residence, a place that had once felt so exciting in its promise.

Now it loomed large in your mind as the site of an upcoming breakup. When you arrived, you saw plenty of parking space—his parents, you recalled, were almost never home. You turned the keys of the ignition and exited the vehicle.

At least no one will witness what’s about to happen.

You made your way up the steps, breath tight in your chest. Just as you lifted a hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing Steve, hair meticulously styled, smelling faintly of aftershave. The pang in your heart only sharpened.

Did he seriously dress up for this?

“Hi,” he managed, the word catching slightly, like he was just as nervous as you.

“Hi,” you replied curtly.

Steve cleared his throat, looking awkward in a way that tugged at your heart—no matter how resigned you felt. “Uh, I think you should come in.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “All right.”

Inside, the house felt cavernous, every footstep echoing. He led you to the living room, and you couldn’t help but glance around, remembering how you used to marvel at this place—huge, yes, but also warm with the potential of summer get-togethers, that pool you’d joked about wanting to try. Now, the thought made your stomach twist.

Guess you won’t be swimming here after all.

You both settled on the couch, an awkward space between you. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he couldn’t quite meet your eye. The hush was almost suffocating, until finally he spoke, voice low and unsteady.

“Look, um… I think we need to talk.”

Your heart thumped. So this is it. You drew a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you felt.

“Okay. Sure.”

He tried not to grimace at the coolness in your tone. You’d never sounded so distant before, and it killed him to know he caused it. Robin’s words about “explaining himself” rang in his ears, so he opened his mouth—only for you to beat him to it.

“Listen, Steve,” you began, voice thick with tension. “I… I get what’s going on here.”

Steve frowned, something twisting in his chest. “Huh? You do?”

“Yeah," you nodded. "I kind of guessed it.”

“Really?” A flicker of confusion passed over his features. “You did?”

Exhaling, you steeled yourself, trying to keep your composure.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Maybe you didn’t appreciate me crying about my job the other day, or maybe I was too forward cooking dinner for you. I get it. I just… I can’t think of anything else I did wrong.” You forced a hollow laugh. “So I assumed it must be that. Maybe I scared you off.”

Steve’s brows shot up, genuine shock colouring his face.

“What you did wrong?” he echoed. “Wait—what are you talking about?”

You swallowed.

Get it over with.

“Aren’t you… breaking up with me?”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Every worst fear he had about you feeling hurt was now a reality.

“What? No! No, I’m not breaking up with you.” He spoke in quick succession. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”

The wave of relief that swept through you was immediate but fleeting.

“Then what is this?” you asked, voice unsure. “It’s obvious you’re not feeling this anymore. You’ve been ignoring me all week, and I’m not gonna force you to stay if you don’t want to. I just… I figured there’d be a reason.”

He grimaced, running a hand through his hair and messing up that careful style.

“There is a reason,” he admitted. “But trust me, it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” you snorted, a weak attempt at humour that came out more sad than anything. “That’s what everyone always says when they break up with someone.”

Steve let out a frustrated breath. He had never been good at this. You were the one who was good with words, not him.

“No, really. It—fuck, just let me talk.” He paused, gathering himself. The realisation that you thought you caused this somehow made his heart twist painfully. If you only knew how not your fault it really was.

God, what a mess.

He stared at the floor, feeling the weight of all his insecurities.

“Listen,” he started, voice shaky, “I’m not good at this, so just give me a moment.”

You watched him, a pang of sympathy slipping through your self-protective shell. He looked… rattled, more so than you’d ever seen him. Despite your own heartbreak, you nodded, letting him gather his courage.

“Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly. “So, I don’t have the best track record with relationships. Or even friendships. I thought I’d gotten better, but apparently not.” He let out a short laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second—only to dart away when he saw the concern there.

It was hard to think when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“What I’m trying to say is… I always seem to get left behind. My first girlfriend left me for someone else. My old friends ditched me as soon as I wasn’t cool anymore. My parents ignored me because I sucked at school.” He swallowed hard, voice thickening with old wounds. “Then I met you, this super smart girl who clearly has the world at her fingertips—you’ve accomplished so much already, more than I ever could. It made me think: how could I hold onto that? How could I keep you interested in my life when I work at a video store and spend my free time with a bunch of teenagers?”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his words. For a second, you just stared, feeling tears prick the backs of your eyes at how wrong he was about himself.

Without thinking, you reached out and slid your hand into his, the contact gentle but resolute.

“Steve,” you whispered, voice unsteady but filled with honesty, “how can you think that about yourself?”

His gaze snapped to yours, confusion etched in every line of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, running a thumb along the backs of his knuckles.

“You really don’t see what others see, do you?”

He frowned, looking lost. “I… I’m not following.”

Blinking back tears, you gave a soft, exasperated laugh.

Of course he couldn’t see, your sweet, stupid boy.

“Steve, the first time we met, you literally lugged and built me a whole bookshelf—remember that? You practically passed out hauling the thing up the stairs.”

“Shit,” he muttered, cheeks tinging pink, “you noticed?”

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, remembering the moment you started falling for him. “And I saw you freaking out over the instructions, but you tried to act like you totally had it under control.”

“Damn…” he hung his head. “Not as smooth as I thought I was.”

Not in the slightest.

A weak smile tugged at your lips.

“Maybe not, but that’s overrated anyway.” Taking a breath, you tightened your grip on his hand. “Steve, you’re a giver—through and through. So you don’t have some swanky office job—who cares? You have something better. You’re selfless, you help people, you care. That’s worth more than anything else, trust me. Whenever you talk about your friends, it’s like a never-ending list of names. You’re rich, Steve. Richer than money.”

He felt tears burning behind his eyes. This was not part of the plan, for him to be openly crying while you praise him repeatedly. That should have been his job tonight. Making you feel better.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he croaked, “you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“Me too,” you admitted, voice thick with emotion. “We’re both lame.”

“Yeah,” he managed, a watery laugh escaping, “the lamest.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then he lifted his eyes to yours with a shy, almost bashful smile, one you hadn’t seen all week. It looked like him, the real Steve you fell for.

“Come here?” he asked, sounding almost boyish in his nervousness.

You couldn’t move fast enough.

He leaned in, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the big house, the rolling ache in your gut. His lips pressed to yours, soft at first, hesitant, then deepening as relief coursed through both of you.

He couldn’t quite stop smiling against your mouth, which made the kiss a bit clumsy, but neither of you cared. The tenderness overshadowed any awkwardness. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. When he finally pulled back, he let out a shaky exhale, one hand still cupping your cheek.

“I missed doing that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

“Me too,” you breathed.

He swallowed hard, glancing away as guilt resurged. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like you messed up. Like I didn’t—like I wasn’t into you anymore. I am. I really am. Probably too much”

“You should have told me,” you scold him, his brown eyes still glassy. “Aren’t you the one who preached about sharing problems?”

A choked laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah, well… ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

“You’re impossible,” you teased, though the affection in your voice was unmistakable.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping noise cut through the charged atmosphere, making you both jump.

“What is that?” you asked, pulse still fluttering from the kiss.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, the timer!” He scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over the coffee table. You followed him with a bemused smile as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Seconds later, you found him shutting off the buzzer, cheeks flushed.

“I, uh… made dinner,” he confessed, looking adorably sheepish.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You cooked?”

“I mean, I stole your idea,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rob said I should do something nice, so… here we are. My parents were never around much, so I learned a few things. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

A laugh rose in your chest, part delight, part lingering emotional exhaustion. “Robin told you to do this? I gotta thank her.”

He set a potholder aside, shrugging with an embarrassed smile. “She said I had to make it up to you, so… yeah. I guess I’m returning the favour.”

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, stepping closer.

Steve let out a quiet breath, a small, relieved grin curving his lips. As you moved into his space, he reached out, fingers ghosting along your arm before settling at your waist.

“And you, deserve it.” He murmured, voice brimming with affection. “Really sweetheart, you deserve the world.”

Something in his tone made your heart clench. Before you could respond, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender—altogether mesmerising.

He cradled your face like you might vanish if he wasn’t careful, as though keeping you close was the only way to convince himself that this was real. You tasted the faint salt of his earlier tears, felt his almost giddy smile against your mouth, and the mix of sadness and relief and overwhelming softness made you cling tighter to him.

It was the kind of moment that made the ache worth it, the kind you knew you’d replay in your head a thousand times.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath. Foreheads touching, you could see the hint of a shaky grin still hovering on his lips.

“I guess this means we’re not breaking up?” you asked playfully.

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head vigorously. “But hey, you might change your mind after you try my cooking.”

“Hey!” you protested, giving his shoulder a playful shove—no malice behind it at all. “I’m not that cruel. Even if it was terrible, I’d never tell you.”

“And there you go being way too good for me,” he chuckles, but this time it feels more like the joke he was aiming for.

One that he knew deep down was not true.

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