#this one got a bit wrinkly

[cinimuffin]

Still have some more realistic/nonpixel-y looking organs to add. Figured I'd post a version without that bit of gore first for people who aren't a fan of that stuff (the finished piece won't have too much of it though).

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ STRAWBERRY FLAVORED — GETO SUGURU.

contents. here is a lil prequel to this btw, basically this is suguru’s shower scene but if he actually had someone to take care of him, reverse comfort, aka my extremely self indulgent drabble of fixing suguru before he turns into a mass murderer <3

it’s been a while—suguru has been in that shower for long enough that you’re starting to grow concerned. you contemplate for a bit, whether it’s a good idea or not to enter the boys shower, weighing the possibilities of being caught.

satoru’s not here, you reason, nanami and haibara are gone too, and yaga shouldn’t notice either—so, with a heavy sigh, you walk up to the door, opening it slowly. you can see him, standing as the water pours over his body, not even moving a little when you enter.

suguru is not the same—not after everything that’s happened. you can tell, you can see it under his eyes from the lack of sleep, you can see it in his cheekbones as they show a bit more from the lost weight, you can see it in the stiffness of his body when you’re around him. he’s not the same, and no one’s seem to have noticed, but you have. you always have.

you slowly strip from your clothing, walking up to him quietly until your arms circle his waist and your cheek rests against his bare back.

“baby,” you hum, “you’re turning into a prune. look at your skin,” you grab his hand, running a thumb over the tips of his fingers, wrinkly from the water.

he gives you an empty chuckle—you don’t think you’ve heard a real laugh from suguru since that day. “but aren’t i a handsome prune?” he mumbles.

“of course,” you kiss his shoulder, “the handsomest.”

“that’s a relief,” he says playfully—there’s nothing playful about his tone, though. it’s numb, automatic, like he’s trained himself to respond to you the way he always does. but you can feel it. he’s not the same.

“you’ve been in here a while. i got tired of waiting.”

“sorry,” he drops his hand from yours, falling limply to his side, “lost track of time, i guess.”

“suguru,” you say softly, “what’s wrong?”

he’s quiet, probably contemplating his answer. no one else might’ve noticed, but you have. you always do—he knows you always will. finally, he decides to answer, “are you really asking me that?”

“yes,” you say firmly, “i want to hear it. i want you to hear it. stop pushing it down.”

“i’m fine,” he mutters, “just tired.”

“i know,” you say softly, “i know you’re tired. what’s got you so tired?”

gently, your arms twist his body—he doesn’t put up a fight, just spins to face you until his face is digging into your neck on instinct. he can smell your body wash, can inhale the familiar scent of you from here. there are no curses to consume and no people to save at the risk of himself here, just the soft feeling of your skin and the warm press of your lips on his head.

riko would’ve liked you, he thinks. he can’t help it.

for a fleeting moment, when his hand was outstretched to her, he’d wondered if you’d like her too. he’d decided you would—you’re kind, you always have enough love for one more person. you’ll like riko, he’d thought. and then just like that, she’d been on the floor, dark pool of blood under her head.

you never got to meet her, and he never got to introduce you.

“what’s wrong, sugu?” you ask again, voice more delicate this time.

“everything,” he whispers.

he’s tired, so incredibly tired. suguru is exhausted. so for today, he’ll let you pick up the pieces. he doesn’t want to worry about you right now, doesn’t want to think about whether or not the edges will be sharp enough to slice your fingertips. suguru is exhausted—so for once, he lets you worry about him instead.

“i see,” you nod, letting your fingers trail to his head, stroking the wet strands gently as he trembles against your body, “everything is a lot. let’s start with just one, yeah?”

“i hate the taste of curses,” he spits, “it tastes like vomit.”

“that’s no good,” you agree, and then you’re pulling his head out of your neck—he wants to protest, wants to stay right where he is so he doesn’t have to face you, or anything. but you’re insistent, gentle as you are firm, cupping his cheeks as you force him to look at you. “can you still taste it?”

“yeah,” he nods. it’s true, he can’t forget the taste even if he tries. it’s like a phantom pain—but it resides on his tongue, haunting him long after it’s gone, even as he breathes and swallows and talks. “i hate it.”

your lips are on his after that, soft and sweet against his mouth. he can taste the strawberry of your chapstick, the familiar taste of you that he also could never forget. it washes down the vile taste of curses easily, so he leans in for more. and more. and more. he needs more.

“what about that?” you ask, stroking his cheek when you pull away, “how does that taste?”

“good,” he says shakily, “i…i like that.”

“i know you do,” you smile, pecking the corner of his mouth, “i can’t change how curses taste. but if i could, i’d make them strawberry flavored for you.”

he chuckles at that—it’s small, but it’s real. for the first time in a long time. it’s real.

suguru hates how curses taste, and you can’t change that, but you can help make swallowing become easier. he’ll take it—he’ll take anything you give.

“that might make the job easier,” he says, burying his face back into your neck, “they’d taste like you.”

“i’ll kiss you then,” you stroke his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. his lips wobble, vision turning blurry. suguru is tired—he doesn’t want to hold it in anymore. “after every curse you swallow, i’ll kiss you. it’ll make it easier.”

“i don’t know if it will,” he admits, “this….what do we do it for? none of it is easy.”

he used to think it was. fighting curses was easy—satoru and him were the strongest. fighting curses was like stepping on ants as they walk on the concrete, crushing them before they can bite anyone. but he starts to wonder if people deserve to be bitten, if the people who kick at ant piles mindlessly for fun deserve to be saved from themselves.

you think for a bit, contemplating his question as the water runs over both of your bodies, slipping into the thin crevices between your skin and his.

“it’s not,” you agree, “it’s not easy. i would’ve loved to meet riko. i know you wanted me to. i’m sorry, suguru.”

somewhere along with the water on your shoulder mixes his tears, and his body shakes against yours. suguru is tired. he’s tired of swallowing curses and tasting bile. he’s tired of pretending the weak are innocent. he’s tired of carrying so much weight on his young, innocent shoulders. they deserve to be free.

“is it worth saving them?” he asks as he sniffles, “if they clap over people like us dying?”

“people like us aren’t always so different,” you point out.

people like us don’t need saving, he wants to argue—but you don’t give him a chance to, turning the water off behind him as you stand there holding him as he leans into you.

“there will always be someone who needs to be saved,” you murmur, “and there will always be something they need to be saved from. it’s not always as simple as curses and exorcisms, though.”

“that doesn’t make any sense,” he frowns, “that’s the whole point of jujutsu. to exorcise curses.”

“and if we exorcised them all? would that make everyone safe?”

“maybe not,” he furrows his eyebrows, “but at least we wouldn’t be dying for them.”

“you never know,” you reach for the towel, slowly pulling away and patting his skin gently as you dry his dripping skin, “maybe you’d die from something worse.”

“what could be worse?” he asks bitterly. he doesn’t understand. but you smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you brush his bangs from his face.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “but i’m sure there’s something. there’s always something worse. but there’s always something better too.”

he still doesn’t completely understand. but the weight on his shoulder doesn’t feel as heavy when you lean and kiss it again—he feels like at least some of his youth is still his, still yours.

“you make no sense,” he grunts, scowling when you ruffle his hair obnoxiously with a giggle.

“well, maybe you’ll make sense of things after a nap,” you poke his chest accusingly, “you really need one. and then you’ll eat something. c’mon.”

“i don’t sleep with wet hair,” he reminds you as you tug him along, stopping where his clothes hang. you gesture at him to hold his arms up, grabbing his shirt. he rolls his eyes and indulges you, letting you dress him.

“i’ll dry it for you,” you chuckle, “my sugu is so high maintenance.”

and then, before you can turn to grab your own clothes, he tugs your wrist and pulls you in, kissing you hard, kissing you hungrily, kissing you like you’re all he has. just because he can. he can taste the last bits of your chapstick—he wants to keep tasting it forever. it’s strawberry, his favorite.

“i like strawberries,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “so don’t change the flavor.”

“okay,” you grin, cupping his cheeks, “i’ll always get strawberry for my sugu.”

he just needed a few kissies and he would’ve been fine. i guess i’ll take one for the team and kiss him a few times 😔 i guess i can take the responsibility of loving him 😔 i’ll be fine guys no need to worry about me 😔

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Love After Death

Yandere Skeleton x Fem Reader

I’m obsessed with Kate Bush’s song ‘Army Dreamers.’ So I decided to write a story about a soldier who died during a war, but he came back to life just to fulfill his promise of coming home to his lover…

There was a Great War many years ago between monsters and humans. A war that took countless innocent lives all due to the human’s greed. A war that took the life of your lover, Zered. Your childhood sweetheart.

Zered was a young sorcerer from the magic tower. A prodigy and pioneer of magic with a heart of gold. He was the man you had planned to spend the rest of your life with. You wanted to run your fingers through those blonde curls until the two of you were balding and wrinkly. To look into those sea foam eyes until you couldn’t. To press soft kisses against his full lips until your lungs burned. You loved that man more than anything in this world… but the war took him from you.

Zered may have died a hero of the empire, but you couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped its fingers into your heart. Your beloved was no nothing more of a war story. A great sorcerer who was able to take down the dragon enemies to give time for reinforcements to arrive. A war hero. And they couldn’t even bring a single remain of him back to you…

You sighed as you sipped on some homemade ale. Your eyes glanced at the sun’s rays that danced across the hay fields in sorrow. This was the cottage the two of you were going to live in for the rest of your days. The one you’d start a family in that was now cold and empty. It didn’t matter that the sun hit it perfectly each time, Zered wasn’t here.

You rock back and forth in the rocking chair. The birds weren’t singing their melodic tunes like they normally did. Which was odd. Why weren’t the birds singing- you almost screamed when you see a dark figure slink through the meadow towards your cabin. What on earth was an undead doing here?!

You quickly sprang up from your chair and fell over since you were a bit tipsy. Crap. Crap. Crap! You needed to head inside before that creature got to you.

You let out a shrill shriek of terror when the skeleton stood in your porch. Its red eyes stared into your very soul as it tilted its head to the side. Oh god… this was it. This was the end. You were going to be ripped apart by this hideous creature-

You went still when the creature threw itself into your arms as it released weeping noises. The skeleton whined and shook as its arms wrapped around your body in a tight hug.

“H-home. I… home.” The skeleton’s voice was a spin chilling rasp. A small tuft of blonde on its head showed that it was once human.

What did it mean by being home- wait. This cousin possibly be?

“Zered?” You gasped when the skeleton pressed its teeth onto your cheek like it wanted for press a kiss against your cheeks. “Zered, what happened?”

“Home… home.” Zered was barely to rasp out legible words. The skeleton cupped your face in its palms. “Love you… I home.”

[babyleostuff]

svt as nonsexual acts of intimacy | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

being your prince charming 

carrying your bag even if it’s as light as a feather? check. not letting you drive because you’re his passenger princess? check. buying you random gifts just because? check. putting your safety before his? check. it would be an understatement to say that cheol worships the ground you’re walking on - nothing can stop him from treating you like a princess, and he makes sure to remind you of it every single day. try all you want to be independent, and cheol will still find a way to do that thing for you - you and kkuma are the royalty, end of story. call him a simp, he doesn’t care + is he your prince charming or a sugar daddy? 

❥ jeonghan 

sharing a dessert 

hannie would share whatever he was eating with you in an instant - you wouldn’t have to ask, you wouldn’t even have to look, and he’d be ready with a spoon full of whatever he’d be eating. sharing desserts was extra special for him though - it made his heart swell with love, like he was falling in love with you all over again, besides - he loved how your face lit up whenever he extended his plate to you. he’d know your favourite sweets, cookies, candies, baked goods, etc. by heart. one day when you asked how he knew that that specific type of cookies were your favourite he just shrugged his shoulders saying “he just knew" - and that was true - when it came to you he knew even the smallest details.

❥ joshua

taking a bath together 

in joshua’s opinion it’d be a perfect way to spend the evening after a long and tiring day. you’d be lying opposite of each other (so he’d be able to see your face) with a glass of wine shared between you as you’d talk about anything but work-related, trying to soak in each other’s presence before the next day would start. joshua would have his hand on your calf, wanting to have some physical contact between you, as he usually got a bit clingier when tired. it‘d be all so calming and blissful, and you’d be wrapped in this little bubble of safety and love, forgetting about all of your problems - it’d be just you and joshua. you’d sit in the water until you were all wrinkly and all of the bubbles would disappear, not wanting to get back to the real world.

❥ jun 

slow dancing in the kitchen 

with one of his hands on your hip, and the other caressing your cheek, jun would rock you from side to side to the rhythm of the song quietly playing from his phone. it’d be all so romantic (and so so cliché, but neither of you cared) and domestic that you couldn’t wait to see how many more of such nights were ahead of you. because of jun’s absence due to the neverending flights and schedules you often longed for each other’s touch, and dancing in your kitchen at 3 am seemed like the perfect time to spend some quality time together. there would be no need to speak, you’d just hold each other as if it was the last time you’d get to do that.  

❥ hoshi 

accidentally falling asleep together 

more often than not, soonyoung came home utterly exhausted (not that you blamed him), which led to: nap time! most of your dates ended up with his head on your boobs (his favourite pillow), arms wrapped around your body, and a random blanket thrown over the two of you. he’d swear he wasn't tired, but as soon as you’d look away his eyes would close immediately, and not a second later he’d be happily snoring like a mad-man. not his fault your boobs were so comfortable. and even if you wouldn’t be particularly tired or sleepy, you’d still fall asleep - there’d be something so comforting and calming about having him so close to you that you’d fall asleep not long after him.

❥ wonwoo 

making you lunch/ dinner  

is he a good cook? not really. does that stop him from making you lunch or dinner? no. wonwoo might be busy because of his crazy schedules, and lack energy to do the most mundane things, but that doesn’t stop him from making sure you’re well fed and happy - even if that means he has to stay up extra late. you’re not even surprised when you find your lunchbox on the counter in the morning with a sweet post-it note next to it anymore. + he’d get all shy and blushy whenever you’d compliment him and his super duper cooking skills :))) 

❥ woozi 

doing groceries 

you treat grocery shopping as proper dates since he rarely gets any days off, and you have to try and make the most of every moment you get to spend together. no matter how tired or overwhelmed he is, your little afternoon shopping outings are a highlight in his week - it doesn’t matter if you’re only buying butter and milk or the whole grocery shop - jihoon’s content as long as he’s with you. he loves watching you as you get frustrated because you can’t find a certain product (even though it’s right in front of you), and when you get excited over the fact that your favourite type of bread is still in the bakery. whether he’s the one pushing the trolley or not, jihoon always makes sure to be close to you, bumping his hip into yours from time to time. he’s just happy that something as mundane as grocery shopping can fill him with so much love, and it’s all thanks to you.

❥ dk 

sending good morning/ goodnight messages 

it doesn’t matter what time zone he is in, how busy he is, and how tired he is - seokmin will send you a good morning text the second he opens his eyes, and if by some miracle he forgets, he makes sure to send you an extra long one in the evening. words of affirmation are his love language, he lives for telling you how much he cherishes you, how much you mean to him - what a ray of happiness and sunshine you are (you can be the biggest black cat, and he’d still view you as a golden retriever). you deserve all the love you can get, and seokmin makes sure you feel appreciated and taken care of in every way possible - that’s why he’s so adamant on writing those messages. besides, he misses you like crazy when he’s away on tour and schedules, and writing those messages make him feel like he’s a bit closer to you.

❥ mingyu 

cuddling in a blanket fort 

try to imagine this big 6'2” babygirl trying to fit his long ass limbs and big muscles into a blanket fort made in his apartment (you stole some of wonwoo’s blankets) + the fact that he’s the clumsiest puppy to ever exist. gyu would be so excited, though :((( and you knew he tried to be as careful as possible (you had to redo the fort like five times), but he simply wouldn’t be able to wait for the endless cuddles among all of the blankets, pillows, and plushies. he most definitely would make you wear his clothes, insisting they were a lot comfier than yours, and he’d be so so giddy looking through the closet for the biggest and fluffiest hoodie he owned

❥ minghao 

reading together 

bed + blankets + tea + your head resting on his shoulder as you’d read your own book, a comforting silence surrounding you with a faint sound of the outside world coming through the open bedroom window = a fucking dream for hao. he loved being close to you, but still being able to focus on his own thing - like reading. the fact that he didn’t feel like he had to talk to you, or that the silence didn’t make him feel awkward made him fall in love with you even more. hao would look over at you from time to time, smiling to himself at your reactions to what you were reading, wishing he could take a picture of your adorably concentrated face + the weight of your head on his shoulder would calm him down, it’d better than meditation in his opinion

❥ seungkwan 

doing your skincare together 

seungkwan is a loud person that always has something to say, and sometimes he doesn’t even realise how much that tires him. he quickly discovered how easily he calmed down around you and didn't feel the need to be the idol boo seungkwan, but just your boyfriend who liked to sing and travel around the world with his brothers. that’s why doing his nighttime skincare routine with you always brought him a sense of peace and comfort - hidden in the safety of your bathroom - you’d wash your faces, apply different moisturisers, try to understand the ingredients of the products, laughing about the complicated names you couldn’t even pronounce, and apply face masks to each other, accidentally sticking your fingers in each other's eyes. a big smile wouldn’t leave seungkwan’s face for even a second.

❥ vernon 

watching movies together

movies had to be one of vernon’s favourite things in the world, and it meant everything to him that you never said no to movie night dates. it’d be the one time when vernon would drop his guard down completely, and let you hold him through the whole night. maybe it wouldn’t be the most romantic thing to do, and some would probably laugh at you for staying home instead of going out to party, but vernon would never want to change a thing - he loved being cuddled into your side, sharing short but soft looks with you, commenting on all of the silly things happening in the movie. the fact that he got to experience it all with you made him feel like he won the lottery + it was intimate yet reassuring to share something so close to his heart with you, and he would never be able thank you enough that you accepted him and all of his quirks with an open and loving heart 

❥ chan 

patching up a wound

the oh so soft and caring channie that never failed to treat you like a princess, making sure you were safe and that no one was making you feel uncomfortable. it wouldn’t take much for him to worry about you, and even a little scratch would send him into cardiac arrest. he’d be the softest when patching up your wound, not wanting to hurt you even more - his fingertips would delicately run over your skin as he’d inspect your injury with a worried look on his handsome face. he’d have a set of ten different band-aids ready, all in different colours, patterns, shapes, and sizes, and let you choose whichever you’d want (his features would soften a bit seeing how excited you were to choose your fav band-aid). after patching you up chan would kiss your wound very very gently.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @f4iryjjosh @isabellah29 @hafsah-ali @mrswonwooo @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @chillseo @bangantokchy @hrts4hanniehae @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[letorip]

i heard your name

"i heard your name and i'll never be the same”

===+++===

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after a life of fleeting things, you come to tennessee, and find someone you don’t want to be “fleeting” anymore, though she may come with ulterior motives

warnings: rivalry, references to sex, hints at student-teacher relationships, reader is being used (duh)

word count: 4.8k

A/N: i really really hate the concept of miller's girl as a whole, but i can't deny that cairo sweet is a captivating character psychologically, and that jenna does an absolutely amazing job. inspired by lolita, pale fire by vladimir nabokov, and the movie hot summer nights.

===+++===

You became aware of Cairo Sweet on a hot, sunny school day, one that almost seemed to mock your lack of enthusiasm for the new school in its beauty and the light breeze.

The high school was an ugly building, one that sat in limbo between southern charm and the studious American educational experience seen in the likes of pretentious New England. The decorator had clearly not known which one to pick, but no amount of fancy classrooms or bookshelves and Turkish rugs would make you forget you were in Tennessee of all places.

It would be just as unmemorable and brief as the last, and that’s exactly what you reminded yourself while you waited dreadfully early in the front office, in an uncomfortable yellow plastic chair that had one leg much shorter than the others.

The receptionist lady seemed nice enough, smiling at you all bright and wrinkly like old people did. “So sorry about the wait, dearie. Any minute now, she’ll be—”

“It’s no problem,” you shrugged. “I’m not really in a rush.”

The woman nodded, her eyes melting into little crows feet at the ends. There was a theory you had heard once, that the more wrinkles someone had, the more they had smiled in their life. It didn’t fit many of the crotchety old people you had met, who seemed to have frowns permanently stitched onto their leathery faces, but it definitely fit her. She glowed like a beacon, or twinkled like a chandelier of happiness.

“Are you excited about coming here?" She asked. "Starting the new semester has to be exciting!” The entire time the older woman kept sheepishly glancing over at the door, waiting someone to come in. Whoever was supposed to be guiding your tour was clearly very late.

You had long given up on hoping your mom would pick a spot and stay there. In two more months maybe, she would announce she 'wanted a change' again, and you wouldn't give this place a second thought when you left, just as you hadn't given the last places a second thought either. But you couldn't just say no.

You smiled back at her. "Yeah, kinda. This seems like a good school."

"Oh it's just splendid!" She assured you. "The kids love it here, it's just-" Before she could finish, the office door swung open, and a girl in crazy clothing bustled in, dropping her bag on the floor in the middle of the room and spinning to the receptionist.

“I’m so, so sorry!” She said, visibly dishevelled (though maybe that was just her nonsense outfit) and maybe sweating a bit. “I completely forgot I was supposed to do this!” She laughed. She seemed like one of those girls that were always drunk— not in a sad, alcoholic way, but like they were drunk on life (and maybe alcohol too).

“It’s alright, Winnie. They haven’t been waiting long.” Winnie spun around, noticing you where you sat, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Hi there, I’m Winnie,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. You stood up and shook it in your own, smiling back. This would all be fleeting anyhow.

“Hi, yeah I heard. (Y/n)."

Winnie tilted her head, giving you a devilish smirk. She was absurdly energetic for it being so early. "Boy, aren’t you cute.”

“And aren’t you really forward,” you laughed.

She shrugged. “I think it’s more fun that way. You got a nickname?"

"Eh," you shrugged. You did, from your mom, but it wasn't worth mentioning when you wouldn't be here that long. "Not really."

"Nooo, you definitely should have one," she said, and you raised your eyebrows at her.

"I'm really good, I think," you said, grinning. "Not the most nickname—able name out there."

"Fine," she shrugged. "Suit yourself I guess. Now c’mon,” said Winnie, sticking her hand out to you. There was a certain glint in her eyes then. “I’m gonna show you every little place in this shitty little school.”

"Winnie, language!" The receptionist scolded her.

"Sorry," she winced.

Winnie dragged you around the halls like that, hand in hand and pointing into classrooms; she waved to the people that she passed. It was decent sized school, with a big cafeteria and gym, but not much else unique to boast except for the few sports fields outside. Your last school didn't have that, but it had been northern Alaska, so it made sense. It was probably hard, what with the snow.

“Boris!” Winnie waved over at a man in a track suit, with a whistle around his neck that all gym teachers seemed to wear. He rolled his eyes, waving back at her. "That's Coach Fillmore," she explained.

“What’ve I told you about that, Winnie?” He asked.

Winnie slipped her red-heart sunglasses over her eyes, flashing him a smile. “Still your favourite though, right?”

“Yeah yeah.” And he turned his attention back to the football field, coffee in hand. Winnie spun back to you, with an almost infectious aura.

"So, why'd you move?" she asked, grabbing your hand again and tugging you back inside. The metal door slammed shut behind you with a loud thud.

"Witness Protection Program," you shrugged as she pulled you around the corner. “On the run from the cartel." She looked at you like you were crazy for a moment, eyes all wide, then you laughed and ruined it. "I'm kidding. Not actually."

"OOooooO, I like you. Cute and unserious. I thought you were going to be all square, but it turns out you can joke," said Winnie, shaking her head at you. "What's your locker number, again?"

You handed her the paper. "She wrote it on here."

Winnie took it from your hand, holding it up to the fluorescent lights and examining it like a slide under a microscope. "Ah, damn. You're on the opposite side of the school from me. Like literally, the exact opposite side. That's good though, right? Your first block is Calc?"

"Uh, no. It's uh..." you stopped, leaning against a wall and sliding your backpack off. You pulled your schedule from the top pocket. "Creative Writing, with Mr. Miller."

Winnie's eyes lit up, and she punched you on the arm. "No, fucking way?! That's my first block too!"

You shrugged. "I'd honestly rather do that than calculus right now, so."

Winnie laughed. "Yeah, you and any normal person." She stopped for a minute. "Are you okay if I go off and get some breakfast before class? Winnie hungee," she said, rubbing her stomach. "I also kind of ditched my friend, and I told her I'd find her."

You nodded. "Go ahead. I'm just gonna find my locker."

"Okay!" She said, giving you a small salute. "See you in class."

===+++===

You found your way well enough, and after fumbling with the big metal lock and struggling to put the code in, could actually open your yellow locker and throw the heavy bag you had been carrying inside.

You could see other kids walking up and opening theirs around you. Their doors had metal magnets and small whiteboards, stickers and posters. You hadn't brought stuff to decorate your locker in four years. Instead, your backpack had everything you carried in it, ready to go at the drop of a hat.

The creative writing classroom was down a hallway that split off near the gym, and luckily seemed less ugly than the rest of the school. The room smelled of pine and paper, which was probably a good sign, and bookshelves and glass jars littered the walls with a bunch of other random things setting the scenery for the big chalkboard and wooden desk in the middle.

Most of the other students were already there when you arrived through the double doors, including Winnie. She stood at one of the front desks talking to someone. When she saw you, she waved, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree even from afar. In her past life, this girl would have been a golden retriever. You waved back then turned away, heading to one of the back desks that put you firmly away from the teacher's line of sight.

Mr. Miller seemed like an alright guy, or just enough of one. He didn't do any cheesy introductions of people, or make you do one of those stupid icebreakers that made you want to die, no— he was straight to the point, with just a splash of drama.

"Hello everyone! This semester my main goal is to make you write. And I mean really write." He paused for dramatic effect, as if he thought it was Dead Poet's Society. "This is not like your other English classes, where you put minimal effort into a 'meh' essay and turn it in, and you're happy with a B. No, I want you to feel something."

After that, you couldn't help but tune him out. He wasn't bad, no. But he was just boring and unremarkable, and anything a high school writing teacher from Tennessee would be, in the way he stuttered or played with the lid of his plastic coffee cup.

He spent most of the class prattling off the syllabus and giving out the first assignment, due in a couple of days. You weren't especially interested in writing as a whole, and even less interested in the prompt of 'write about you,' but you shoved the paper into your backpack and figured you'd give it a shot.

"Mr. Miller?" asked a voice from the front.

"Yes, Cairo?” Mr. Miller said, and you raised your head up, looking to where he was speaking. The hand belonged to a girl with dark hair, and you immediately recognised her as the one Winnie had been talking to before class. She was clearly very smart, with a small stack of books on her desk in front of her.

“Are we talking about ourselves literally, as in our achievements, or as in our emotions and how we feel?” she asked. Cairo looked pretty when she talked, though you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. This was fleeting. It was important to remember that.

“It’s up to you, actually,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against his desk. “Whatever really lets me know you.” Boy, how cliche.

When class ended, Winnie bounded over to you with a smile, her school bag tucked under her arm like it had been earlier. “Sooo, how was your first class?”

“It was pretty good, no complaints,” you said, fumbling with your folder and shoving it back into your bag.

“So, listen, do you want to sit with me at lunch? Me and Cairo sit together and you can totally join us if you want,” said Winnie, still as bubbly as ever. She gestured towards the door, and you could see the girl from earlier looking through the books on the bookshelf that stood next to it.

You shook your head. “Sorry, I got invited by a group to sit with them and I already said I would.”

Winnie frowned, pouting cartoonishly with her lower lip drooping. “No worries. If ever again though, me and Cairo would be happy to have you."

You gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Maybe tomorrow."

You ate lunch that day leaning against a concrete wall underneath the football bleachers, with no one else around, a thick paperback in your one hand and a sandwich in the other, headphones over your ears.

===+++===

"Thank you all so much for your submissions," Mr. Miller said, a stack of essays sitting under his arms as he passed them back to the class. The weather of that Friday was much more relaxed, with a smattering of clouds covering up the sun, the way you liked it.

The past three days had been just as uneventful as the last, and you went home each night only to wake up the next morning and stay equally as unenthusiastic, and attempt to bury your face into the fabric of your pillow for another five minutes.

He cleared his throat. "I've decided to do something fun, and kind of crown a 'winner' for the week, if you will." He shrugged. "It's just someone I really was impressed with, and want to recognise so, uh, we'll do this after every writing piece."

From behind the class with your head propped up on your palm, you saw Cairo tensing at his words. It had become clear even through disinterested observation that she cared way more about the class than literally anyone else— maybe even Mr. Miller. She raised her hand first, offered feedback on anyone made to read aloud, and always stayed after. She was probably itching for the recognition and you figured she deserved it too.

Which was why it shocked the hell out of you when Mr. Miller walked right up to his desk, put his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat like he thought it was a drum-roll moment, and announced, "this week I was incredibly impressed with (Y/n)'s writing."

There was no way. You froze, not entirely sure he was talking to you. Maybe he had just mispronounced someone else's name indistinguishably close to yours. Cairo's head whipped around, face equally as in shock. There was no way. Winnie was smiling at you, other kids were staring, and you wanted to die.

"Uh...thanks."

From the other side of the room, Winnie whooped for you, clapping a little, in an awkward way. Someone else let out a cough. Mr. Miller shook his head, and said, "No, thank you. Your writing was really impressive. It made me feel, in a way that was refreshing from some other things I've read."

Cairo whipped back around to gape at him for a moment and then back to you. Then, back to Mr. Miller as he continued. "I don't have much in terms of prizes, but there is a bowl of candy over there, and you can take one if you'd like."

You nodded, standing up and making your way over to the clear bowl. Why the hell not. Writing had never been something you thought you were fantastic at— you had never shared it with anyone since there had been no one to share it with. Your fingers went in, and out you pulled a grape lollipop, retreating back to your seat and popping it in your mouth.

From the front, you felt Cairo glancing at you from over her shoulder, but tried to ignore the raising hairs on the back of your neck with her focus on you. “Okay,” said Mr. Miller. “Turn to your textbooks.”

===+++===

The grape lollipop was still in your mouth at lunchtime, leaning against the concrete wall and feeling the hot Tennessee breeze ruffle against your soft shirt, moving it gently against your skin. It was quiet out, and you had your headphones over one ear, leaving the other one to listen to the trees and the wind.

That's how you heard the footsteps from around the corner, even through your music. You looked up from where your eyes had been tracing the cracks of the concrete and watching the ants walk by into their nearby hill, and there she was.

Cairo Sweet had found you.

She stood a bit down the way, on the path, with her arms crossed right over her chest. Her eyes were just as dark as before, and they bore into yours with a strange carnal desire. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Uh, hi?" you managed. She didn’t even acknowledge it.

"So, how long are you going to keep lying to Winnie for?" Cairo asked, her voice as smooth as butter on your ears. It was a question that caught you completely off guard in its sincerity.

"Uh— I'm not— I haven't been lying," you stammered. Cairo wasn't convinced; her eyebrows lifted a little, creasing her forehead in disbelief. She took a step, one agonisingly after the other, closing the distance between you two until she stood directly beneath you, staring up through her lashes in a near haunting way. Subconsciously you took a small step back.

"I have a question," she whispered, like it was right in your ears. You could feel your blood rushing to them quickly, and it felt as if everything was happening in an almost sinful daze, slow and burning.

"Yeah?" you murmured back, fighting against the lollipop to speak. It made it harder to swallow.

"Can you smell my perfume?" Cairo asked, and your brain hung off every word that spilled from her lips.

"Yes," You clumsily nodded, eyes shooting down to her perfect mouth as it moved, then up to the freckled apples of her cheeks. You knew you were breathing loudly. "It's lavender, and—"

"—Good," she praised, barely audible in her sickly soft whisper. You nodded again, head feeling heavy. God, this girl. "Good," Cairo said again. You didn't know what to say.

"I want to read your essay," she continued, scanning the bleachers for a moment and then eyes shifting back to you in full force. She had you right where she wanted you. Under her thumb.

"Uhhhh, why?" you trailed off, confused as all hell and letting out an awkward laugh to cover.

"It's good, isn't it?" She asked, challenging you with her stare and a smirk, as if to say she knew exactly what she was doing to you chemically. "I haven't found many I want to read."

"Essays?" You mumbled.

"Good ones," she corrected you, whispering it slowly. Your gaze lowered to her lips again, her lower one caught between her teeth. Her own eyes flew to the lollipop, the stick hanging between you both.

Your breathing hitched when her hand came up, lightly grabbing the end and oh so gently pulling it from your mouth, some of your saliva carrying with it. She twirled it, never breaking eye contact with you as she placed the purple crystalline sugar on her tongue, closing her mouth around it for a moment. Cairo smiled, then pulled it from her lips and placed it back in yours.

You blinked slowly, unsure of what this was but finding it all too addicting to know how to stop it. At the sound of voices in the distance, the spell was broken, and Cairo looked back over her shoulder. You cleared your throat, realising the situation you were in.

"What're you trying to do?" You asked. It wasn't a gentle question, but it wasn't a harsh one either. Part of you wanted her to whisper back something cheesy and romantic. Or maybe you wanted something salacious to come from her all-too-plush lips, and the moment to end with hers on yours.

But instead she just blinked at you. It was like the question had taken her power away; she faltered completely. She frowned, almost frustrated by you asking, and she didn't have an answer. "Just let me know about the essay? I'd really like to read it."

Before you could reply, she turned around and walked away, as if going back to a drawing board far off in the distance. You watched her go, turning the lollipop over in your mouth.

===+++===

I should like to think that when I am older, the places I have been will make me cry. They will not meld together, in one long train; I will not move from car to car, blazing past what it may contain and never stopping to look out the window.

I will slide into a booth or take out a folding chair if I must, and watch the world go by. I will sit atop the mountains or amongst the grains of sand on a beach, and watch my eyes begin to water in the light of the setting sun.

Your eyes scanned over the essay in your hands, flipping through it and looking at all of Mr. Miller's notes. There were only four, and two of them were 'Wow!'. Even knowing he was impressed, you were at a loss for how this could be considered impressive. It was just words on a paper. Not difficult to write them, or copy them down. You were just talking, but on a page.

My mother seems to think I can’t hear her crying through the walls at night, wishing she were different. Her tears keep me up, and I trip and drown in the puddles of her despair, falling through the surface and into the depths hidden beneath, whenever I leave my room. I love her, and she always manages to convince herself I do not. She loves me, I always must convince myself she does.

It was this paragraph that made you hesitate, standing behind your locker door and rereading it over and over in your mind. There was no way you could show this to someone- and especially not Cairo.

And right there, like Cairo was conjured up by your mind, she was walking right past you, bag over her shoulder and book under her arm. You looked at her pass, the voice in the back of your mind whispering the word fleeting into your ear. It had been a week since your uncomfortable conversation (if you could even call it that) from underneath the bleachers, and she was acting weird.

She was almost avoiding you, and it was rather noticeable. Not to anyone else, who were unaware you knew each other existed, but to you, you knew. When Winnie said good morning and Cairo happened to be there, she would glance away, fully aware of you staring at her like a big idiot.

You found your way into the classroom, and Mr. Miller was writing something on the board in big white letters. It said 'MEANING,' and 'SYMBOL' in a smaller script underneath. He turned back when he was done, smiling over at Cairo and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

She always was the class favourite, and it made sense. Even if your writing was enchantingly fantastic, or some other amazing bullshit word Mr. Miller would write in blue pen that made you doubt he could actually read, Cairo was the one who actually tried. "I want everyone," he said, clearing his throat with a grunt, "to find a partner and sit down with them. This is going to be a partner activity."

You froze. Shit. These things sucked when you were the new kid who knew no one. You glanced over at Winnie, hopeful you'd find a partner in her, but she was madly gesturing towards Cairo to get her attention, and it made you smile a bit at the look on her face— until you saw who Cairo was staring at. You. Your smile went away in an instant.

Her brown eyes were staring at you again, sharp and intense. Then she picked up her bag, tucked the books she brought with her under her arm, and made due on her plan to pick you. You sent your glance away, as if to pretend you couldn't tell she was coming for you. And yet when her books landed on the table with a soft thud, you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Care to partner up?" She asked, pulling the chair back to sit down before you could even answer. From the other side of the room, you could see Winnie staring at you, looking confused as all hell.

"Uh, sure," you managed. Was she just going to pretend you two hadn't shared whatever that was? It seemed to be the case, and it seemed she knew you were uncomfortable. Cairo Sweet almost seemed to relish in doing that to people.

"So, how'd you enjoy your first week here?" She asked, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a fresh page. She leaned forward, crossing one leg over her other.

You shrugged carefully. "It was good. Boring, but good."

Cairo nodded. "This is a really boring town, so that makes sense."

"Yeah..." you trailed off. She made putting sentences together incredibly hard for you.

Mr. Miller's assignment was boring beyond belief, but Cairo sat up straight the entire time he gave out directions, eyebrows lowering a bit or head tilting after every clarification, like she was making a mental reminder to remember that later. You attempted to ignore her, looking over to the bookshelf on your other side out of boredom.

They were all leather bound, in alternating shades of brown and green, and some hardcovers in sheathes intermixed. Finnegan's Wake and Scienza Nuova, Being and Time and Infinite Jest, you recognised and had read them all. Day-long car rides would do that to you, and it was within reading you found a particular solace from your mom screaming along to the radio.

"(Y/n), are you listening?" Cairo whispered over at you, pulling your gaze back towards her. You nodded, even though you weren't. Her leaning in seemed to fill your nose with her smell. It was lavender, and it was overpowering.

She raised her eyebrows at you like she knew you were lying again. "Really? What're we doing, then?"

You blinked. Shit. "Uh...I don't know, sorry," you apologised, feeling somewhat sheepish. Cairo gave you a judging look, and you were starting to feel like maybe she was regretting choosing you as her partner. She sighed.

"It's fine. Do you want to maybe come over on Friday? We can work on the paper," she said, playing with her pencil. You frowned.

"I thought Winnie said there was a party on Friday."

Now Cairo looked confused. "Are you going to that?"

"I thought you were?" You questioned, trailing off. She laughed at that, like it was a funny suggestion.

"No, it's not really my scene. Winnie's the partier," she grinned. "A party animal, even."

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little bit. "That makes sense. You're probably writing or reading instead or something."

She seemed intrigued. "Is that what you think of me? A nerd?"

"Uh..." there was a certain heat flowing towards your cheeks, and it felt like the room was a million degrees. "A little, yeah."

"Wooow!—" Her voice rose in a mocking offence.

"—No, I don't— That's not!— I—"

"You think I'm a geek."

"Yeah, only because you're always reading and stuff, so," you argued, raising your hands up. She laughed.

"So if you read, that makes you a nerd?"

"That's obviously not what I'm saying, but the normal kids just go home and watch a show or something," you shrugged. A beat of silence passed between you, and you groaned, realising your mistake and dragging your hands down your face.

"'Normal', huh?" She asked. You sent her a glare, only to find her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she smiled at you, taking great fun in making you red. Then, within an instant, as if it had been flipped like a switch, the weightless look in her eyes shifted to something far darker.

"You know," she said, and you found your heart catching in your throat. "I don't only read in my free time. I find other things to do." She was back at a whisper, leaning in towards your ear. Each enunciation reverberated in your ear drums and filled your brain with sinful ideation.

"I actually like to do things over and over. Creature of habit, really," she continued and your eyebrows rose. The classroom felt even more humid than it had before, and some sweat was already forming on your forehead. Mr. Miller stood behind his desk, and you felt hyperaware of how he kept glancing towards the both of you, his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face at the almost voyeuristic display.

The bell rang, and just as if nothing had happened, Cairo stood up, gathered her things, and walked off like she had under the bleachers.

"Wait-" You were left frozen there, watching her go out the door and down the hall. It took another ten seconds of sitting there for the spell she had cast on you again to be broken, but when it did, you shot up.

Clumsily you threw your notebook into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder and taking off as quickly as you could. You wouldn't let Cairo flee.

She was near her locker, where you found her a few halls down. From over her shoulder, Winnie saw you coming, and sent you a friendly wave. Cairo followed her eyes, turning towards you and eyes widening. She was clearly surprised, crossing her arms over her chest as you walked right up to her and stopped.

"I have a question," you said.

"Ask away," said Cairo.

You nodded, thinking for a moment. "Why'd you pick me as your partner in this?"

She scoffed at this, uncrossing her arms and rolling her eyes like you were missing something obvious. It hadn't mattered how loud the passing crowd around you was. You heard her loud and clear, and it filled you with a sense of warmth that you hadn't felt since "fleeting" was just another word in the dictionary and not a mantra.

"Because, I think you're special," she said, only to you in the crowd of passing kids. You couldn't see Mr. Miller watching you both intently from the far wall, one arm crossed over the other.

===+++===

okay so this may or may not be a series i'm starting, but i at least know there is a part two that's already halfway done. part of what took me so long and why i've been gone for like a month has just been me agonising over every damn word. so. enjoy this bad boy ig? not that much happens in this part, but i promise the next part will be kind of crazy.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Siblings

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: There's a baby at your house

You're all waiting around for Pernille's friend when you ask.

He's meant to be dropping off his baby because of some emergency with his wife's mum. It had all been so unexpected but as the only one in the friend group who had hands-on experience with a baby before, Pernille was happy to volunteer.

He's assured her that it would only be for a few hours anyway while they sorted things out so she didn't worry much.

You're sitting at the coffee table with a sandwich for lunch as a show Magda's watching plays aimlessly in the background.

"Momma," You say suddenly," Why have you got a sister?"

The question is completely out of nowhere and a little amusing at how bluntly you say it.

Pernille laughs. "Well, your grandparents wanted more than just one child so they had me and Louise."

You think for a moment. "And that's why Morsa has a sister too?"

"Yes, princesse, that's why Morsa has a sister too."

That stumps you a little bit and the doorbell rings before you can ask any more questions.

Momma's friend comes running in, thanking her profusely before handing her the baby boy in a carrier. He leaves out the door as quickly as he came.

Momma coos over the baby and you come over to investigate.

He's kind of ugly, with wispy blonde hair on top of his head. His face is all wrinkly and strange. His expression scrunches up when he sees you and you decide that you don't like him.

Momma and Morsa seem to though and you don't like that much either.

This baby takes up a lot of their time.

You don't fully understand what's so interesting about him as you sit at the table and colour. You wonder, briefly, if this is Momma and Morsa practising.

They both have siblings. You wonder if they need to practice with this new baby because they forgot how to look after one now that you've a big girl.

The thought of another little girl (or boy) in the house makes your stomach feel all knotty and you can't quite work out why.

"Momma," You say, tugging on her shirt," Up!"

Pernille picks you up instantly but frowns. You haven't asked to be picked up like that for a while now. You hadn't done that in months and the last time was only because you had a little cough and wanted a cuddle at training.

You bump your head against her shoulder and wrap your arms around her next, squeezing as tightly as you can.

Pernille's frown deepens and she tests your temperature with the back of her hand.

There's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you feeling alright, princesse?"

You don't answer, just rest your head back on her shoulder. It's a little difficult to help Magda take care of the baby with you surgically attached. You refuse to be put down.

If Pernille even gives a second of attention to her friend's child, you whine and tug at her, wanting all of her attention on you all the time.

You ignore the baby completely even as Magda tries to introduce you. You don't want to look at his stupid wrinkly face nor let him play with your toys.

You don't want him being held by your Morsa either but you can't be in two places at once and being held by Morsa means that Momma's arms are open for the boy to sit in and you don't want that either.

"No, Momma," You say when she tries to put you down.

"I have to go to the toilet, princesse," Momma says," I can't hold you while I do that."

You accept that as true but you trail her to the toilet and get her to pick you up immediately after she's done so she can't pick up the baby.

It's a long day for you, constantly making sure that your mothers remember that they still have you and should pay you some attention. You get given a brief respite when the baby goes to sleep and wedge yourself firmly between Momma and Morsa on the sofa.

You kind of want a nap too but you don't want to waste this time when their attentions are on you so you just sit, holding their hands in silence.

You've never been more happy in your life to see that baby go home with Momma's friend from earlier.

"What was up with you today, huh?" Morsa asks as she and Momma tuck you into bed that night.

You pull a face. "There was a baby."

"There was. Did that upset you?"

You shake your head. "I'm a big girl. I don't get upset."

Momma laughs as she perches on the other side of your bed. "Big girls can get upset too. Big girl just explain why they're feeling upset."

You're a big girl so you're going to do that. "Were you practicing with Momma's friend's baby?"

"Practicing for what?"

"For when I get a sibling like your two have," You say," Do I have to have a sibling?"

Morsa's brows draw together. "Do you want one? A sibling?"

You shake your head and pout. "Just want you and Momma."

"Are you sure?" Morsa prods," A sibling can be fun to grow up with. You get to have someone to play with all the time."

"I play with Jessie and Niamh all the time," You reply," Don't need a little brother or sister."

Momma laughs as she gives you a goodnight kiss. "I think," She says," That our family is already the perfect size."

[jinnie-ret]

scarred knees and insecurities

Stray Kids x Ninth Member!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content warnings: insecurities, heat exhaustion, mean online comments

word count: 2.7k

summary: when the old scars from your youth, become fresh wounds in your adulthood, the boys are there to pick up the pieces.

100 followers special!!! Thank you so much for all your support so far, I hope you enjoy this imagine! I personally share this same insecurity and although I have played it up more for this imagine, I hope that nothing said will offend anyone, I've just written it from my perspective.

As always, asks are open! Let me know what you want to read next! Enjoy! :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Annyeong, Stay!" Y/N greeted the fans as she started streaming on YouTube. She was currently in one of the practice rooms at JYP, ready to dance for stays as she normally did when she went live. She was relaxed in some casual clothes, a big t-shirt and some shorts too.

"What song shall I dance to first?" Y/N grinned at the camera as she read the comments.

"Oh- who said WAP?!" Y/N laughed and shook her head, "Stays you can't be talking like that!"

She got up and started dancing, not to WAP, but to their new song Social Path. Anyways, they weren't allowed to play music outside of their company anymore, so it only felt right.

Finishing the dance, Y/N panted lightly, crouched over with her hands on her knees. As she took a sip of water, sat with her knees bent in front of the camera, certain comments started catching her eyes, no matter how much she tried to act normal and answer questions.

What's wrong with her knees

Ew but why do they look like that

Their knees look so old and wrinkly

Y/N needs to get that checked out it looks so unnatural

Just another reason why she's ugly

Of course, there were actual questions, with Stays giving song recommendations and asking Y/N about what she had been doing recently, but she couldn't help but catch sight of the mean comments. She shifted her body so that her knees were off screen, maybe then the harsh words would lessen.

Look, she's hiding them because she's realised how disgusting she is

Disgusting?

Y/N bit her lip and cleared her throat, but decided she didn't want to force herself to sit there in front of millions of fans when she was trying not to let her thoughts spiral.

"I'm feeling kinda tired guys so I'm going to end the live now, bye!" Y/N blew a kiss like always at the camera and sighed as she ended the live.

She had thought about it a couple of times, she wasn't all too fond of the way her knees looked either. But it always felt different and hurt more when someone else points out your insecurities. Her knees had visible scars on them from how clumsy she was as a child. You could see them stick out yet they were healed over and so had blended in with her skin tone. The other thing was that often she'd find after kneeling down or having pressure on her knees, there'd be a redness or slight colour change to them.

Absentmindedly scratching over the bumps of her scars, Y/N looked up when she heard a slight tap on the door.

It was Hyunjin.

"Why did you end your live early? I was enjoying watching you dance," he pouted at her, clearly in a playful mood as he flopped down beside her in the practice room.

"Don't know, guess I just felt tired," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't tired really, just currently feeling low in her mood.

She jolted as he put his head in her lap, in attempt to look up at her face.

"You're acting all quiet, Y/Nnie," Hyunjin commented, hand stroking her knee comfortingly as he knew this was one of her tells when she wasn't feeling too happy.

Yet this action didn't have the same effect as normal. Y/N moved his hand off of her legs and did a fake shiver.

"It's cold in here..." Y/N rubbed her bare legs, hiding her knees before standing once Hyunjin had removed himself from her.

"I've got some spare clothes, it's in my bag in the other room, come on," Hyunjin patted her on the head gently, before resting his hand against her back as he guided her out of the room.

He wasn't silly. He could tell that Y/N wasn't quite feeling herself at the moment, and the best thing him or any of the other boys could do was treat her gently, that's what she always needed when it came to things like this.

A few days later, Stray Kids were set to do a photoshoot on the beach, perfect for a hot day. Well, as long as they didn't get too hot...

Y/N scanned the clothes that were on the rack in the dressing room with her stylist. She smiled as she caught sight of a beautiful white and blue dress, it fitting their cute casual concept perfectly.

"Oh, Y/N we won't be needing that one today, we've got a better option instead," the stylist fanned her own face, feeling the heat too as she passed over a small pile of clothes to Y/N. It consisted of a heavy pair of jeans, alongside a baby tee with a cute graphic of a heart on it. Now that, she could get behind, she thought the tee was adorable, but the heavy jeans? It was such a hot day.

"But everyone else is wearing shorts, wouldn't it be better if I did too-" Y/N began, before the stylist sympathetically patted her hand, yet it came across as being more condescending than anything.

"Honey, we're just doing what the fans will like best, like wearing jeans instead of anything more revealing, you know, because of your knees," she said, before turning around and sorting through other clothes so that Y/N could change.

What she hated the most was how the stylist's words trailed off into a whisper, like she was ashamed, like Y/N should be ashamed of her body. The company were aware of the comments that had been made online, and just after Y/N was building herself back up and ignoring the thing she can't change, this happened.

Dejectedly, she put on her assigned outfit, and left to head outside in the sweltering heat to join the boys.

"Y/Nnie come stand with me!" Felix dragged her next to him happily. The boys had noticed her mood get better the past few days but being the sunshine he is, he noticed that she was once again in the same low mindset.

"Y/N, aren't you... too hot in that?" Changbin rested a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the heavy jeans she was wearing, fabric slumped over at the top of her trainers.

"No, no, this is fine, it was picked especially for me," Y/N lightly smiled, trying to paint her face to seem content when really she was already sweating, causing a makeup artist to run over and quickly powder her face. Y/N couldn't hide the slight truth in her words, and she was silly to think the small bitterness didn't come through in her tone.

"Okay, just be careful, it's too hot to be wearing those, seriously..." Changbin nodded before returning to where he was previously stood, clearly not happy with the situation his younger member had been put in.

Felix side hugged her before they did their group photos first, the others expressing their confusion for the clothes she was wearing.

"Y/N! You must be so hot!" Han audibly gasped, and all she could do was shrug at him, not really having the words to respond, feeling too hot and overwhelmed at the moment to really think.

"Solo photos now!" the director called out, and one by one they posed, Y/N being the last one to head up, as they were going in age order. As Jeongin stepped up for his turn, Y/N scanned around her for some water she could have, seeing black spots enter her vision slowly.

"Here. Drink, or you'll be too tired to even stand," Seungmin appeared with a bottle of water in front of her, sarcasm coming across through his words as he didn't seem to realise how bad she really was feeling, and that she was too tired to stand.

"Thanks, Seungminnie," she mumbled, drinking it quickly as he nodded and walked away, going to change out of his clothes.

"Yah, you'll choke if you keep this up," Lee Know took the bottle from her hands as he crouched down next to her.

"Just thirsty," Y/N fanned herself as she leant back in her chair.

"You sure that's it? Looks like something else is going on too," Lee Know took one of her hands gently, rubbing a thumb across her knuckles.

"Y/Nnie it's your turn!" Jeongin happily walked over, informing his fellow member yet taking away the chance of gaining more information from his other.

Lee Know sighed as Y/N stood up, standing at the beach bar setup first.

Her movements were slow, yet she was sure it looked casual enough to not seem like she was on the verge of wanting to collapse from the heat. Little did she know, a certain leader had been diligently watching her the whole time. He had inquired about the outfit to the stylists and was annoyed when they said Y/N picked it herself. He knew that wasn't the truth.

"Y/N, turn your head to the left a bit! To the left, turn your head to the left," the director frustratedly said through the megaphone, catching the attention of all the members who were now watching.

But Y/N couldn't really hear what was happening around her. She was more focused on trying to stand up straight right now, panting lightly as she did so.

"The director is being a bit harsh..." Hyunjin whispered to Jeongin, who nodded back in response.

"But she's not acting herself either, look," Jeongin nodded towards the girl, who couldn't seem to keep her head up straight.

"Channie hyung, something is wrong with Y/Nnie," Felix said to his fellow Australian member, frowning as he watched the girl.

"I know. As soon as she's done with her photos I'm going to ask-" Chan turned his head away for one second as he spoke to Felix.

One second.

One second he stopped watching over her, and now she was on her knees, leant against the fake bar as she pulled at the collar of her t-shirt for some air.

Gasps rang out from around the room as both Stray Kids and the staff rushed to help Y/N.

"I knew there was something wrong," Chan shook his head as he started patting Y/N's face with a wet towel provided by the staff.

"Y/N, can you hear us?" Changbin hovered around them, concerned at the state she was in.

It all sounded so muffled to Y/N. She had felt that she had been moved into a position where she was laying down, felt slight relief from the cooler feeling on her face, but her eyes were still resting shut. She managed to let out a groan in response, which offered a light sense of peace before they realised they needed to do more.

"We need to get her inside in an air conditioned room or something!" Chan commanded the staff, as he lifted her up after they nodded and he laid her down on a sofa, the other members following through.

"She needs to get out of these jeans, who's big idea was that?" Seungmin huffed, irritated.

"Let me," a female staff member gestured for the boys to turn away as she and another stylist quickly changed Y/N out of her jeans and into some shorts, letting the boys know they could turn around once more.

They had a fan pointed at Y/N as they tried to get her to sip from some water.

"Come on, Y/Nnie, just slow sips, yeah?" Hyunjin held the bottle with a straw to Y/N's face, a hand under her chin tilting her head ever so slightly so water wouldn't spill down her.

Lee Know tied her hair back, soothingly stroking it back before he gathered it all out of the way.

Y/N's eyes opened wide, feeling a bit better as she had cooled down now. But she saw that her knees were exposed and being in the vulnerable state she was, she grabbed a blanket and covered her knees, her mind going 100 mph and all it could think was that the boys thought she was disgusting.

"No, you don't need a blanket, Y/Nnie, you're too hot right now, that won't help," Han grabbed her hands and held them against her stomach lightly, feeling concerned when her eyes became glossy with tears.

Y/N shook her head, not yet finding the words to explain what she was feeling.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Chan's voice broke through all of her thoughts, the oldest member being someone she could always rely on.

"They're ugly," she mumbled, eyes darting back and forth between her legs and Han's hands holding onto her own.

"What are?" Felix asked confused, looking back and forth between the boys as they all seemed to be catching onto why you had been feeling a bit low the last couple of days.

"My knees. Got scars on them. They're disgusting. Don't want you to have to see them," Y/N rushed out, feeling the grip round her hands tighten ever so slightly and a hand brush through her hair soothingly.

"Now why would you say something so stupid?" Lee Know sighed, hating how she was thinking.

"Don't call her stupid," Hyunjin whacked Lee Know on the shoulder.

"It's fine, it's silly really. B-but Stays didn't like it so why would you?" Y/N bit her lip, still unable to make eye contact with the boys.

"Y/Nnie, look at me," Chan sat in front of her, and reluctantly she looked at their leader. "Is this why you were put in that outfit?" his tone dropped lower, despising how one of his members had been put in such a position for something out of their control.

"The company agreed too... I didn't want to wear it but I guess it was for the best..." Y/N said unsurely, not really knowing how to explain the situation.

"Not when you nearly passed out from the heat!" Changbin exclaimed.

"Y/N, there is nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing about you is disgusting. They're just from when you were a kid, right? You can't control that," Chan said softly as he rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

"I just hate how they look and then when Stays started pointing it out it made me remember how much I hate them," Y/N frowned and looked at her knees distastefully.

"They're not real Stays if they're making horrible comments like that," Seungmin pointed out, as the rest of the boys nodded in agreement.

"Plus if people are always staring at your knees, that's kind of weird," Jeongin laughed, which brought a smile to Y/N's face.

"I guess so," Y/N nodded, the grin still there.

"Aw there's that smile," Changbin cooed, squishing her cheeks together.

"Hyung, she's not a baby," Han laughed at Changbin's antics.

"But, Y/N, just know, it's okay to have insecurities, we all have them, it doesn't make you weird or mean that there is something wrong with you. But this is not the way things should have happened, please talk to us next time. I know it was the company that decided for you today, and trust me, I will be having words with them about this... but please don't obsess over this, yeah?" Chan hugged her to him, resting his head on hers as he talked to her, wanting her to know that they were a safe space for her.

"Okay, okay, I'll try," Y/N nodded as she relaxed against Chan.

"Good. And just know, whatever type of scars you have, it doesn't define you, and they're certainly not ugly. Everyone has some, whether they're visible or not," Changbin patted her knee, being slightly more serious in contrast to him babying her ten seconds ago.

"Woah, hyung, that was deep," Hyunjin clapped.

"Our Changbinnie is so good," Han said in a high pitched voice, causing the older member of 3RACHA to jokingly raise his fist at his dongsaeng.

"Thanks guys, I mean it," Y/N said sincerely with a relaxed smile to the rest of the boys who weren't caught up in the chaos. Let's be honest, it wouldn't be Stray Kids without any chaos, it just wouldn't be right.

[peacefxlmyko]

Does your Mother know?

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x fem!Reader

Summary: Somebody catches Maverick's eye at the bar. There's just a slight problem.

Tags: Fluff, AGE GAP!! but everybody involved is an adult, inspired by the ABBA song, sexy old man Mav

Notes: This is something old I once wrote about Slash but just changed it to Mav cause. Babygirl who's actually a wrinkly old man. Is obviously inspired by the ABBA song and I also used one of the lyrics lines. ALSO this is my first ever TGM imagine on here and I'm lowkey nervous so, please be nice. Also sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!!!

Story after cut ✂️

Mav never thought he would end up in a situation like this. After the most recent Mission he just wanted to chill at The Hard Deck and let off some steam. The whole Dagger Squad had been tough on him.

But there he saw her. She was beautiful, but most importantly young. Probably in her late-twenties. He couldn't help but watch her throughout the night as she was hanging out with her friends. 

He was taking a sip from his glass when he suddenly felt eyes on him. He looked around and noticed that it was one of her friends. She was whispering to her while looking over at him. 

Out of nowhere, she suddenly stood up from the table and started walking towards him. She was wearing a gorgeous outfit and it took him all of his strength to not stare. This is inappropriate, Pete. You're old enough to be her dad, stop staring at her like that. He thought. 

"Hey" She smiled softly. "Can I sit with you?" 

He chuckled a little and shrugged, a bit caught off guard. “Suit yourself.” Her voice was even prettier than he thought.

"So.. what's a girl like you doing talking to an old man like me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, he was seriously surprised. 

"I noticed you looking at me and so I got curious" She grinned in response. Maverick chuckled, a bit embarrassed he was caught staring. "Sorry, you just.. caught my attention" He mumbled under his breath. 

"So, what's your name?" He asked curiously. "It's Y/N. And they call you…?" 

"Maverick." He smiled. 

Y/N. That name kept echoing in his head for a moment. 

They just looked at each other for a moment, unsure what to say next. She suddenly pulled out a piece of paper from her leather jacket, scribbling something on it. She put the little piece of paper right into Mav's hand and his heart skipped a beat at the contact. What the fuck was happening?

"Give me a call" She winked at him and was just about to get up until he stopped her. "Wait- Are you serious?" He asked. 

"You do know I'm old enough to be your dad, right?" He chuckled. "You seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun"

"I know, but you don't seem like the other older men staring at me. You're not as creepy as them" She replied teasingly. Soon she left again to sit down at the table with her friends.  

Maverick just slightly shook his head with a smile before taking a sip from his drink, still caught off guard by the whole situation that just went down. He looked down at the note in his hand before putting it into his jacket, just to keep it safe for later.

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Vault Dweller Lucy MacLean

never written anything but yellowjackets before but her girlfailure energy and complete lack of skills has entranced me

insists on giving you a tour of her vault. you could see everything interesting just from standing and turning in a circle, but she just has to show you all the “best spots”. it's just corners with interesting cracks in them. 

takes you on little picnic dates because she read about them in her book club once. sitting around in the field eating canned tuna while people work around you but she's having a great fucking time. you've never seen her smile more. 

big-time yapper. can talk for hours about the most niche topics if you let her. by the time she's done you can name almost every major player in some small skirmish 300 years ago. she gets so excited when she notices you're paying attention to whatever she's talking about. The girl just lights up and talks so fast you've got to ask her to slow down

if you didn't like reading before you'd better learn to love it because you will be joining that bookclub. by the time you've gotten around to reading it Lucy's pretty much spoiled the whole thing by accident. she just wants someone to talk about the exciting bits with and gets ahead of herself. sheepishly avoids eye contact when you put the book down and sigh. 

she likes when you're good at things but lowkey resents when you're better at something than she is. you beat her out in riflery and she has such a strained smile when congratulating you on it. she hates not being good at something so much that she feels guilty for it. 

definitely said “Golly!” after your first kiss

loves to sit around on your bed and watch you get ready. it takes all of five seconds to get your outfit on but she insists it's one of the best parts of her day.

insists on showering together to “save water”. always gets a little handsy but still rushes you out on time because she feels bad at the idea of wasting water. 

Lucy wants to do anything and everything she can for you. she wants to impress you and show you how much she brings to the table, and the habit kind of just stays even after your relationship is well established. She takes a lot of pride in her skills and what better use for them than making life easier for her partner. 

So easily won over by praise. No matter how sad or upset she is, you can always cheer her up at least a little by telling her how smart or good at something she is. 

cannot be suave or subtle no matter how hard she tries. and she does, a lot. tries to hit you up with a one liner and tells the punch line first. tries to lean against the wall and stumbles face-first into it. makes you dinner and trips over the edge of a rug and drops it on your shoes. you just make her so nervous.

she's so blunt that it leads to the most awkward situations, but you almost prefer it to the havoc she brings when she purposely tries to be charming. 

cannot lie to save her life. she’ll definitely try if it means sparing your feelings but she's so obviously lying that it doesn’t matter much. all “wow… you did such a good job!” but she’s choking it out and cannot meet your eyes.

she's so attached to you. would follow you from room to room all day if she could get away with it. she needs such constant affection and gives so much in return that it's a little overwhelming at first.

definitely the type to lick her thumb and try to rub the dirt off your forehead with it. she's so embarrassing, honestly. fiddles with your clothes to make sure they're presentable. you're going to dinner with 20 other people all wearing the same outfit, but god forbid yours is a little wrinkly. 

you can always tell when she wants you to do something romantic for her because she'll leave out your nicest jumpsuit for you to wear as a hint. 

catches you watching her fix pipes and assumes you want to learn instead of just ogling her. tries to explain it and you're like “yeah? that's crazy…” till she finally gets the hint. always looks so proud when she realizes you find her attractive, even after you've been together for a while. 

lowers your guard with the most innocent-looking smile and then suddenly says “we should have sex” with all the subtlety of a train wreck. that awkward bluntness rearing its head again. can always trust Lucy to say the quiet part out loud. 

loves to flirt with you but she is so bad at it. doesn't recognize the fact that she's bad at it either. hits you up with the worst fucking line known to man and looks so quietly smug about it. 

[fairestwriting]

Hello, if you don't mind, I want to request a sceanrio or headcanons (which one you more prefer is fine by me) with Jade insist to take care of his crush after a long day of dishwashing duty in Monstro Lounge despite his crush doubt that he might wanted to get them in his debt and does not realize that he did that because he has a crush on them? Feel free to skip this req if it's makes you uncomfortable though <3 Thank you!

oldie but one that i thought of a bit even when i was on hiatus... scenario format because maybe i want jade to take care of mw after a long workday too. What the hell

word count: 1345

pairing: jade x gn!reader

content warnings: wish fulfillment none:)

You exhale heavily, your shoulders slumping even without you willing them to, as the very last plate is cleaned to perfection, setting it down with all the others...

It's not that you expected a night of dishwashing to be the easiest thing in the world — but luck really wasn't on your side that day, and it turned out it was the third years' last day of exam week.

Which meant, the Lounge would be crowded. Which meant, you'd have a lot of dishes to wash. Which meant, as you just now discovered, your upper back, forearms, and feet would start to actively try to kill you.

At least it's all just over, you think. You pull off your apron and the rubber gloves that did nothing to keep your hands from going wrinkly from exaggerated humidity, then you turn around, ready to report to Azul that your shift was over—

Then, in your tired haze, you bump into something, someone, and it doesn't even register who it is until a firm grip on your upper arm keeps you from embarrassingly stumbling for a good moment.

"J...Jade? What are you doing here?"

He looks at you. His hand is still gripping your arm, though... it's done really softly, especially for an attempt at keeping someone from tripping.

And he smiles softly, politely at you. Like he always does.

"I could perhaps ask you the same question." He says, a lilt to his voice, releasing your arm as you step back into a balanced stance. "It's rather late, you know? Azul was even looking for you."

"Oh, was he?" You cringe at the way it comes out a little more bitter than you'd intended, but... you're tired, and Jade was... strange, but definitely not a tyrant. "Well, I was about to go look for him and say I'm done with the dishes. There was just..." You glance behind yourself, seeing the piles of plates and glasses, the dish soap bubbles that got everywhere. "There was a lot."

Jade's gaze follow yours, and his smile softens, even more when he looks back at you.

"In that case, why don't you let me inform him instead, and I could... get you something to eat in the meantime? You must be hungry."

Alarm bells ring inside your head. The offer is tempting, of course it's tempting, but this is still Octavinelle, and Jade is still Azul's... henchman, or something. You grimace while you try to get your tired brain to think of a response.

"Um... no, thanks, I'd rather not be indebted to—"

"Ah. You're worried about that?" He asks, and the look on his face, while hardly different from his usual poised smile, has a hint of... something different that you couldn't quite place. "In that case, we could arrange a way for you to... give me something in return?"

"Uh..." Again, the alarm bells continue. If they weren't mental, the noise would probably be intense enough to give you a headache— "I don't... think I have anything you'd..."

"Your company, in exchange for any menu item free of charge. How does that sound?"

What.

You blink, genuinely dumbfounded. Jade still smiles. Always does. You're not sure if it's a joke, a part of you says it's a bad idea, but...

"You want my company in return for the favor." You echo to him, and he nods.

"Yes. I'll tell Azul you're done with your work, and fetch you whatever you wish. Then we can get a sit while you eat. Does that work for you?"

"That..." You really wish you could protest, but at the worst moment possible, your own hunger makes itself known. "...okay."

"Lovely. You can wait at the Lounge. What would you like to have?"

You mumble out your usual order, still a bit confused, and he gives you a nod as you part ways. Out of the kitchen, you don't waste too much time in taking one of the seats with cushy chairs, sighing in relief when you feel your body sinking into them just slightly, supporting those overworked limbs.

The Lounge really was empty. You have a few minutes to stare at it, all by yourself — it really must be late — and even dare to bask in the comfy, yet classy lighting of the environment.

It felt so much different like this. No music, no people to serve. It was... relaxing, surprisingly. Even though it was your workplace, and the source of quite a lot of stress in your life...

"The boss is notified. Here's your food." Jade chimes in with a playful tone after what feels like way too little time, setting a plate of your very favorite Mostro Lounge special in front of you. You can't help the way your eyes widen at it a bit, still not fully grasping the situation.

"And Azul is okay with this?" You grab the fork, but look up at Jade first, watching as he takes a seat in front of you.

"Of course. I wouldn't do that otherwise."

He chuckles, and despite your cautiousness, you can't resist the urge to dig into your food. It tastes even better after all that work.

And for some reason, it makes Jade's smile just a touch brighter when he watches you eat.

"It's important to eat well, you know. I hope you've been getting enough meals lately. Exam weeks are never kind."

"Yeah, I... I mean, I'm doing fine. If I want to keep up with all the work, I have to eat."

You take a larger bite, and he continues to watch you. With one more sprinkle of energy in your system, you start to try to understand what got to him all of a sudden. You look through his features, usually so unreadable and static, and you search for... something. Anything.

A sign this was a strange prank, maybe.

"That's good to hear. In any case, though, I'll discuss with Azul to have better planning for evenings like these... Friday nights and such. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again."

You stop chewing for a split second when you catch on to his wording. I wouldn't like to see you so overworked again. Maybe you're just too tired, and making this all up, but...

What's different in Jade's face now is that there's a hint of sincere softness. One that doesn't even look all that unfamiliar— that you swear had been there when you had brief chats during work hours, even.

Your face flushes. Is he...?

You lift your gaze away from the food, and meet Jade's eyes. He's still smiling, hands folded politely on the table, though it's small enough that when you set your fork down, you swear you feel your hand brush against his glove.

"Thank you... for this, Jade." You mumble out, unsure of what to say. He gives you a smile like he always does, but in this empty, silent Lounge where you're not even sure if you're seeing things right, it makes your heart flutter.

"Thank you for the company. It really was a busy night." He gets up, taking your plate. Only now, you notice you're done eating. "I'll take care of these, don't worry. Just head back to your dorm and rest up. Unless..."

You blink at him again, now unsure of how your brain could even withstand so much confusion. "U...Unless...?"

"...Unless you'd like me to escort you?" He says, and his eyes narrow slyly, glinting— now, wait a minute...

Floyd and Azul were still supposed to be there, weren't they? They always were during closing time. Which meant...

Of course. Of course Jade would only go about something like this as deliberately as possible.

He chuckles. Your face is hot all over and his smile is wide. Skillfully, he carries the plate in one hand as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Just wait for me if you do. We can make another deal if you want."

And then, he's out of signt, and you're left with a dizzying feeling.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[ceilidho]

why is your brain so wrinkly i'm eating up your ideas and thoughts about the cod boys in the fallout universe.

just ghost being unapologetically unbothered in the wastelands, soap being a raider because he's a wild man that needs something to do, price as a CULT LEADER (i eat that up every time) and our poor vault dweller gaz i just UGH

Ghost just lives on his own, eats whatever he can, sells the remains of whatever happened upon his property in town, and then uses that extra income on RadAway. he's either full ghoul or just deformed and deteriorating, but in either case he still wears the mask, and in this 'verse the skull on it is real. a grisly little memento of someone who maybe got too close to killing him. he catches you wandering a bit too close to his property, dehydrated and hallucinating because you've been out on your own for too long and rather than killing you, he hogties you and drags you home. it gets lonely without a pet to call his own.

Soap is a scavenger/raider who's been travelling with the same band of raiders for several months. before that he was on his own for a spell and before that he was in a much larger group that dissolved due to in fighting (dissolved = bloodbath, very few made it out). when his group breaks into your vault and kills most of the people inside, he takes you as his own and guards you jealously, territorially. bites you in order to put his mark on you. he makes you bunk with him and gets vicious mad when you stray too far from him because it's not safe. it gets to a point where he's too paranoid to go on raids anymore because he can't trust you to be on your own and he also doesn't want you coming with them and getting hurt. tells the group he's leaving and goes to take you with him and when they refuse to let him take whats "theirs" (aka anything they took from the vaults), he snaps and kills all of them

Gaz is a vault dweller who volunteered to come to the surface after his community's vault door failed, forced to scour the wastelands and nearby towns for replacement parts. when he comes across you working as a freelance mechanic, extremely taciturn and hard to get to know, he can't help but bring you back with him when you help him acquire the parts that he's been looking for, convincing himself that kidnapping you is for the greater good. he'll be able to give you a proper life free of stress and scarcity back in the vault, and you'll be able to ensure that the door never, ever opens again.

Price is the overseer of a vault that over the years has gradually devolved into what most would consider a cult. it's only too bad that there's no one objective enough to label it as such. his vault is also part of a dual vault system similar to vaults 31/32/33, but the two vaults haven't had any communication in the last two hundred years, so the other vault has no idea what's become of Price's vault. it's only too bad that due to a catastrophic blight in your vault, you're the only survivor of a plague that wiped out your entire community, forcing you to enact the emergency protocol and contact the vault adjacent to yours. Price is quick to welcome you in with open arms, but you only start to feel a bit uncomfortable when the other inhabitants start making comments about how nice it'll be to have a new resident as they've been lacking members of "good breeding stock". you don't like the way Price hums in agreement when someone brings that up at the welcome feast.

[abibliophobiaa]

Epilogue: Golden, Like Daylight

summary: everything falls into place (4.2k)

warnings: mention of birth, allusions to sex.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist || previous chapter

——

Elena Munson was born on June twenty-eighth, on what would be one of the warmest days the month had seen so far. Fitting, for a little girl who brought the sun along with her, filling the bustling hospital room with overwhelming love and light as she was lowered against her mother’s chest.

It was a swift labor, but he cheered you on and held your hand throughout the whole thing (only groaning when you nearly broke one finger), and Eddie Munson had decided he’d never seen anything more incredible than watching the woman he loved bring his daughter — his daughter — into the world. Kissed your sweat-slicked forehead as his hand raised to cradle the tiny, wailing body against you, both your tear-streaked faces upturned with the widest of smiles.

Eddie was certain the two of you cried more than your new daughter, his body crowded over yours, the two of you tangled up on that narrow hospital bed, peering down at the face both of you had dreamed of for months. Pouty lips, those perfect little cheeks, a curly head of hair that impressed the doctor, and ten tiny fingers and ten little toes.

Perfect, by every standard. In every single way. Completely and wholly yours, knitted together in love.

And later, after the nurses had cleaned the baby and done their routine checks and you were allotted time to enjoy the joy of being a family, both of you watched Elena take in the world with new eyes. Merely looked on at her in awe, neither of you wanting to let a moment pass by lest you miss anything. Concentrated wholly on her little wrinkly forehead, the furrow of her brow, fingers resting against her father’s clavicle from where she rested in the crook of his elbow.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” you asked, marveling at the beautiful human you carried within for nine months.

“Her mother is beautiful, I’m not surprised,” he teased, rocking Elena when she mewled a bit. “Thank you.”

For loving him. For giving him this moment.

“We did it,” you told him. “She’s finally here.”

He leaned down then, kissing her brow, those mystified eyes of her’s closing. “I love you so much,” he told her, the first of the promised many to come. You snuggled in closer, body still sore and tired from exertion, head resting on the other side of his chest. Then he leaned down, lips soft against yours, grinning into your skin, both of you still on cloud nine. Whispered, “And I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your thumb reached over to brush over the curve of Elena’s cheek, her head stirring, but not waking her from her slumber. “We are the luckiest girls in the world. Aren’t we, Elena?”

——

Welcoming a new baby into the home was an adjustment, to say the least. Your nights had definitely changed, both of you quickly growing accustomed to a lack of sleep with a crying newborn keeping you up all night. But Eddie helped out as much as he possibly could, feeding the baby to allow you extra sleep, changing diapers, and he always was excited to do it.

Seeing him become a father made you love him more, if that were even possible. He doted on his little girl all hours of the day, singing to her, talking to her, simply looking at her like she was the greatest treasure he’d ever stumbled upon. And she loved him back, always wide-eyed and cooing at him once she was old enough to do so.

Soon enough, you’d fallen into a routine. He worked during the day while you stayed with the baby, and when he got home you spent time together as a family. Often just laying on your bed like you were right now, staring down at your daughter as she kicked her feet and waved her hands in the air, oblivious to just how loved she was.

“I want another one,” Eddie mused to himself, blowing a raspberry on Elena’s chubby cheek, ringed fingers splayed over her abdomen, giving her a tiny wiggle. At your horrified expression, he added with a laugh, “Not right now. I just…didn’t think I’d love being a dad so much.”

“I was going to say that’s easy for you to say when you didn’t have to push her out of your body two months ago. But Eddie, you’re doing a great job. Really.”

Those first days and weeks had been trying. Eddie often felt helpless initially when Elena would wake, screaming bloody murder, unable to do much since she really needed you. And though that was true to an extent because of obvious reasons, he’d gone above and beyond in other ways, if only to make sure your burden was lessened. Cleaning around the house, cooking for the two of you, making sure you could get in a shower and nap when needed.

You knew that insecurity was brought on by years of neglect due to his father, but Eddie would never follow in that man’s footsteps. His heart was too big, his love too deep for his family. Eddie had taken to fatherhood in stride and an eagerness to make sure Elena knew he’d move the mountains for her every single day.

“I’ll think about it,” you mused, leaning down to give Elena another kiss. “I think I wanna steal your last name first, though.”

It was a newer development. Talks about marriage. He’d brought it up a few days after Elena had been born, wanting to ease you into the idea of forever, to see if it would be on the table. And you’d surprised yourself with an immediate ‘yes,’ fully believing that all that you’d gone through was meant to bring you to where you were now, with this man.

He proved to you every day that your initial fears were for naught, trust for the love he bore you running deep, his soul a security you’d never known before.

Eddie rolled onto his side, head propped up against his palm, elbow rumpling the comforter near Elena’s hip. “Yeah?”

You nodded, rolling onto your side, nose pressing into Elena’s cheek, grinning as her gummy mouth turned to seek you out. “I am the only non-Munson in this bedroom.”

“You’re a Munson. You know that,” he said, leaning over to kiss your furrowed brow, “but one day soon…officially.”

“Soon, huh?” Your nose grazed his cheek, lips barely touching his, relishing in his contented hum.

“Can’t be giving away all my secrets now,” he whispered, nosing along your jaw, mouth dancing at your pulse point. “I want it to be a surprise.”

——

That surprise came a week before Eddie was set to leave on tour. Months had flashed before your eyes, your newborn suddenly six months old and more vibrant than ever. Constantly smiling and babbling. Your home was filled with laughter — yours, her’s and her father’s, the two of them the brightest lights in your life.

That same father stood in the kitchen, bobbing his head to a song as Elena sat in her baby chair, blinking up at the fan circling up above. It was her newest fascination — watching the blades spin around and around and around, like it was the most entertaining thing on earth.

“Eddie, I just finished washing the rest of your clothes. They’re just out to hang dry on the line now,” you told him, slipping your arms around him from behind, hugging him close. Could feel his heat through your sweater, sighed into it. “What if I just hold onto you so you can’t get onto the tour bus? Cling to your ankles?”

Eddie turned off the sink, wiped his hands on a towel, and spun around. Shifted you so now his arms curled around your waist, sliding beneath the fabric of your sweater, calloused fingers dragging along your skin. You’d never tire of him in this way; his hands on your body, his form against yours, his lips, times — though understandably less frequent now — when he’d have you under him or over him in whatever way you’d liked, crying his name like a song.

“We’re going to miss you.” You pouted, pressing your ear to his sternum.

“You’re going to be at the first few shows,” he murmured against the top of your head, swaying you back and forth, “but I’m going to miss you both more. You better take pictures every day. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Every day, I promise.” Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. A tiny little box nestled in Elena’s fist, hand waving it back and forth in front of her face. “Hey baby girl, what do you have? Can Mommy see?”

Legs kicked, kicked, kicked in her cozy little sleeper, her happy cooing sounds growing louder the closer you got. And then you dropped down onto the floor, leaning over to give her a giant smooch on the cheek, prying those pinchy fingertips from around the box, and replaced it with a rattle toy so she didn’t end up bawling.

Once Elena was satisfied, you lowered yourself down onto your bottom, thumb brushing over the velvet material. Eddie’s voice was warm behind you, “Open it, Buttercup.”

“Eddie…”

“Told you I couldn’t tell you all my secrets.”

Too stunned to do much of anything, much less speak, Eddie joined you on the ground, hand curling around Elena’s foot as she continued to huff and kick, the only sounds in your home her rattle and the clanging of your heart in your chest. Eddie took it upon himself to take the box from you, flipping the lid open to reveal a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. Your hands cupped your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you choked out a sob.

“A little over a year ago I fell in love with a woman in a Princess Buttercup costume. You quickly became everything to me, even when you didn’t know it. There is no doubt in my mind that I wa —”

“Yes,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks now, Elena’s rattle growing louder with the fury of her movements.

“I didn’t finish,” Eddie laughed, grabbing your left hand in his, plucking the ring out of the box. It hovered over your finger for a moment as he continued, “You are my best friend, the mother of my child, and the love of my life. And I’d be a really lucky guy if you’d become my wife too.”

Your reply was a nodded cry of ‘yes’ and he pushed the ring up onto your finger, sliding it flush against the knuckle. It was a perfect fit. Arms circled his neck as you practically leaped onto his lap, giggling as his arms wound right around your waist and tugged you flush against him, lips sliding over yours.

Elena, seemingly unhappy with not being the main focus of all her parent’s attention, tossed the rattle onto the ground and cried. Pouty bottom lip wobbling as tears spilled down plush cheeks, her father was there to the rescue as you shifted off him to unbuckle her and pull the baby onto his lap, bouncing her until she giggled again.

“Someone was a little jealous,” you teased her, poking at her belly, “he was mine first, little missy, so you’re going to have to get used to sharing.”

He was yours. And you were his. From that very moment on Halloween, even if you hadn’t known it back then.

Eddie pretended to chomp on her baby cheeks, earning a loud, bursting round of giggles from his daughter. “Your mommy said she’d marry me. How does that sound, Elena?”

She shoved her fingers into her gummy mouth.

“I guess she’s happy,” you laughed, lifting her up onto your hip, clambering onto your feet. You held aloft your left hand, wiggling the glittering diamond as Eddie appeared at your side with a hand at your waist. “I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I love you.”

——

After a conversation later that night spent tangled in bedsheets, you quickly realized neither of you wanted to wait to get married. In a spur of the moment decision, you’d suggested a trip to get a marriage license that next morning, and that same day you were given the green light to go ahead with your nuptials at the local courthouse.

In the end, it had been a private affair just a few days later. Wayne was there as a witness, standing with your daughter in his arms as you and Eddie recited vows to one another. Made promises to uphold for the rest of your lives, in sickness and in health, until death did you part. You cried as Eddie breathed life into those words, as he declared those promises, and he silently cried as you echoed them back, sliding a simple gold band onto his ring finger.

Mr. and Mrs. Munson.

Later, you arrived at home to find all your closest friends packed within, there to celebrate the newly wedded couple. Chrissy, finally showing with her second baby, had gone all out and decorated as much as she could, and Robin directed the flow of traffic to the food buffet table.

Everyone took turns toasting to the Munson’s, reminiscing on memories they had about the two of you, both alone and together, and celebrating love. The room was full of it. All glowing faces under candlelight, friends and family alike enjoying the closeness and community.

Every so often you snuck glances over at your new husband, bent in conversation with one of his bandmates, his fingers wiggling in a wave your way.

Husband. It sounded so crazy to think after all this time that was what he was. You’d chosen one another now and forever. Decided that you were going to nurture and grow this relationship for the rest of your lives.

Your family.

That night, after your guests left and Steve and Chrissy took Elena for the evening, Eddie loved you gently in the dim light of your bedroom. Tenderly. Fingers curled with yours against your pillow, the room filled with soft sighs and rolling hips seeking the pinnacle of pleasure. He kissed you slowly, held you tightly as you shattered around him, tucked you away from the rest of the world. Whispered he loved you, punctuated kisses against your face and shoulders with sweet nothings.

Head nuzzling your neck as you both drifted back to earth, he asked, “How does it feel finally being Mrs. Munson?”

Right.

It felt right.

——

Two and a half years later…

——

The stage was bathed in dark shades of maroon and red, the anticipation on eager faces awaiting the last song of a sold out concert a ripple that rose with every passing second. Hands reached out to touch him and his bandmates, a sea of screaming fans huddled before him, and yet his heart only searched out one face. Fingers pressed against strings, the feeling familiar, so practiced, a part of him just as simple as breathing.

A spotlight drifted toward center stage, illuminating his bandmates. His friends. His family. Jeff passed him a knowing smile, Gareth grinned devilishly, and Murphy nodded his head. He’d never be here, standing on this stage, in a crowd of tens of thousands were it not for them — for the years of blood, sweat, and tears. The sacrifices made.

And then, as the room rose in volume, cheering grew louder and louder, Eddie’s eyes drifted off toward the side of the stage. Found you there, his wife, the love of his life, glowing with your support of him as always, lips tugged into the proudest of grins. You were beautiful, wearing his Corroded Coffin band logo across your chest, with a floral skirt fluttering with your every movement falling against your thighs.

In your arms, against your hip, you bounced his newest little. Benjamin Munson, nearly four months old now, with a giant pair of headphones atop his curly head of hair. You swayed him back and forth, one hand curled around his tiny fist like you were dancing, the baby’s eyes transfixed on the stage.

To your right, playing furious air guitar, head banging in all her curly headed glory with a matching pair of headphones to her baby brother, stood his now three-year-old, Elena. His first baby, the one who made him a father, the second love of his life, one of the pieces of his heart. You reached down to brush your fingers over her head, Elena’s head tipping upward just enough, eyes twinkling and dimples that mirrored Eddie’s as she looked across the stage and saw her father standing there with a broad smile on his face.

She smiled back in wonder, always so full of love. He never understood it — how much he could love someone who was a part of him, someone who he’d had a hand in creating, how much they could love him back. How his daughter looked to him like he was her whole world, her hero. But he lived every day trying to be worthy of it, knowing he was.

The first notes of his guitar rang out onto the stage, head bowing, eyes closed. He pictured your smiling face, sitting there in that darkened bar on Halloween. Could see you, just as the crowd roared to life, pulling out a stool and joining him at that table. It was easy to do so, being back in the city where he first fell in love with you tonight. You’d smiled at him, and it had been all over for him, from that very moment.

It was that same smile he saw when his head lifted and he looked your way once more, your beaming face, love and support grounding him in this moment, doing the thing he loved most with the people he loved most.

And as the final note rang out, clear and true into the magnetic energy of the crowd, surrounded by all the people he loved, his dreams now his real life — he knew he’d do it all over again, if only to end up right here in this moment.

Infinite.

——

You left the concert with the promise that Eddie would meet you and the kids back at the hotel once he’d signed endless autographs and merchandise to make his hands hurt. By the time he slipped into the hotel room, you were propped up beside Elena in bed, her eyes locked on whatever cartoon you managed to find on the television.

Ben rested in the crook of your arms, hand against your chest, freshly fed and looking like he’d fall asleep at any moment. Eddie always pleaded with him to stay up so he could wish him goodnight. Not that the baby understood, merely blinking at his goofy dad in reply.

You watched a smile stretch across your husband’s features when he noted the long lashes that fluttered against the tiny face that was shaped so much like his fathers, you’d jokingly cried, “Figures I do all the work and you look like your dad” in the hospital the day he was born as they’d laid him in your arms.

While Ben was serene and serious faced most of the time, Elena was still your giggly and boisterous little girl. Eddie’s twin in every way personality wise, though her features screamed you.

Said little girl hopped up onto the bed despite you telling her she shouldn’t be jumping on it. Ben stirred in your arms as Eddie dropped his things at the door and held his arms up like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, growling, “Daddysaurus is hungry and demands kisses.”

A routine. This had become a routine for them the past few weeks after Elena decided she loved everything dinosaur related. Eddie, wanting to encourage her desires wherever they lay, bought her countless dinosaur toys, books and stuffed animals to engage her curious mind. And then “Daddysaurus” became a thing and you were sure your daughter loved her father even more because of it.

Your big, lovable dork of a husband leaned down and wrapped his arms around his daughter’s middle, flipping her up onto his shoulder, their laughter echoing in the hotel room. Elena squealed in her excitement, hair spilling across his shoulders as she dangled upside down, his fingers wiggling at her sides.

Once properly tickled, he dropped her down onto his hip and kissed her cheek, beaming as her little hand settled against his chest and her head leaned onto his shoulder. “Miss you, Daddy.”

“I’m here now,” he reassured her, “it’s your bedtime though. How about you go potty and we’ll come help you get ready for bed, okay?”

“Do I hav’ta?” she whined, fingers twined in his curls, pouting when you nodded. God, your heart swelled every time she did that. “Benny sleeps too?”

“Yeah, baby, Ben is going to sleep too,” Eddie told her, lowering her down onto the bed.

Elena, still having no perception of how chaotic she could often be, jumped down to the ground and stirred Ben from the half-slumber he’d found himself in, before running off into the bathroom and slamming the door a little too loudly.

Chuckling, you handed Benjamin to Eddie, “You were amazing tonight. As usual.”

He grinned, arms coming up to cradle the baby in his arms, rocking him back and forth to soothe. “Helps that I had my biggest fans in the crowd. Hottest one, too. Wanted to flip her skirt up after the show in the green room.” He added that with a wink.

“Not while the kids are around,” you hissed, but heat still burned low in your belly all the same, craving the next time you’d be able to have some alone time. Luckily that would be tomorrow, when Micah and Jeremiah took them for a few hours so you could explore the city you’d fallen in love in years ago. “He did really well for his first concert.”

Eddie tugged the baby closer, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is that right, Benny Boy? Just wait — in a year or so I’ll teach you how to play too. Just like your sister. We can start our own band.”

“Don’t tell the guys that they’re getting replaced,” you laughed, palm curling up and over his broad shoulder as he settled down beside you on the bed. Cuddled up to his side and staring down at your sweet baby boy, you added, “Robin and Vickie called. Chrissy and Steve had another girl.”

“Poor guy is in trouble. Three girls.” Eddie whistled, running his index finger along Ben’s slackened bottom lip, little sighs falling from the baby.

“Heard from my publisher too. We finally solidified the release date on my next book.”

He leaned over and kissed you, forehead resting against yours. “I’m so proud of you, Buttercup.”

All your dreams were coming true — together.

Every day you loved him a little more than the one that came before.

You had your two beautiful babies.

Your family.

Your friends.

Life was good.

“How about you put him down for the night and I go check on our girl?” you asked, just as Ben finally slackened in his father’s arms, lost to the waking world.

Eddie nodded, happy to do so, whispering sweet words to his littlest love as you made your way over to the bathroom, peeking in to find Elena already finishing up pulling on her pajamas. “Look at you. Such a big girl. How about we go lay down and get ready for a bedtime story? I bet if you ask Daddy real nice he’ll tell you a good one.”

A tiny fist came up to rub at adorable doe-eyes as you carried your daughter back to the bedroom, finding Eddie sprawled out on the bed, the comforter drawn back to make room for the two of you to scramble on in.

Elena, naturally, untangled herself from you and rushed past in her hurry to plaster herself to her father like a starfish. Limbs all sprawled across his form, trying to be as close as possible. His hand slid up and over her back, locking her against his chest. After brushing a final kiss to Ben’s forehead and wrapping him within a blanket from where he lay in his portable crib, you tucked against Eddie’s opposite side, head over where his heart thumped steadily within.

“Missed my favorite girls,” Eddie said, kissing the tops of both your heads.

Your fingers stretched across his chest to tangle with Elena’s, giving her a little squeeze as she sleepily asked, “Story now?”

His laugh rumbled beneath your ear. “Yeah, what kind of story tonight? The one about the bears maybe — or the one about Mr. Turtle?”

“New one please?” She shrugged, nuzzling further into Eddie’s chest.

“How about I tell you the story about the day your Mommy and Daddy met?”

Her eyes sparkled in the darkened hotel room, head rising and falling rapidly.

“Once upon a time, there was a giant Halloween party in a beautiful…uh, castle. A traveling minstrel — which is a fancy word for a musician — looked across the room and spotted the most beautiful princess in all the land…”

He told her the story of Halloween.

He told her the story of where it all began.

He told her the story of your love.

——

well, this is the end. thank you so so much everyone for all of your lovely comments every week, all of our conversations and just generally thank you for loving this story as much as i have. cannot wait to share the next eddie stories i have planned with you all. and please please — if you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know. it means the world to content creators, and i love getting to chat with you all. until next time, xoxo - luna. 🩷🩷

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k words

warnings: explicit language, a lil bit of angst w/ a wholesome ending<3

summary: in which you and steve take a late-night trip to your favorite diner

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

It was four long hours of your life that you’d never get back. But, you were glad that all of the work that you had to force yourself to do all night was finally over. 

It was somehow always in moments like these— where you procrastinated until the last possible second to do something that had been assigned weeks ago— that you sincerely wanted to drop out of college; and you’d barely even been there three months. But you also knew that you definitely could not do that because of your parents. 

So, instead of even pondering that thought too much, you pushed through and forced yourself to start and finish a project for your Psychology class that involved a shit ton of writing and research. It was a project that now made your head pound heavily in your skull from focusing on that one tedious thing for hours upon hours. 

With a loud sigh, you closed the books you had open and then stood up from your desk. A part of you wanted to immediately flop onto your bed and fall asleep, but then there was the other part that wanted to do something else entirely. And then suddenly the thought of the diner that was only ten minutes away and had amazing milkshakes became the only thing on your mind.

You switched out of the wrinkly old t-shirt you had on and put on a different oversized one that was less wrinkled, and then slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Steve was sleeping right then, you were pretty certain of it, but you still wanted to give him the opportunity to partake in this impulsive late-night decision you were making. So, when you exited your room, you headed toward his and walked in. 

You refrained from turning on the light because you didn’t want to startle him awake, and instead simply sat down on the edge of his bed and lightly poked his back before whispering, “Hey.”

He only shifted a little bit and didn’t turn to face you. “Hm?”

“I just finished my stupid fucking midterm project for Psych and I’m going to the diner because I’m in dire need of a strawberry milkshake. You wanna come?” 

“It’s one in the morning,” He mumbled, still barely moving and you weren’t entirely sure how he was actually able to be so accurate with what time it was. 

You took his response as his way of saying no without actually saying it. And honestly, you weren’t too surprised by that answer because it was then that you remembered that his shift at Family Video earlier had been longer, and apparently more annoying, than usual. So, you decided not to try and further convince him to come to the diner with you. 

“Okay, I’ll be back in an hour,” You said as you got up from his bed. “I’ll bring you back onion rings and your own milkshake. You can have it for breakfast when you wake up.”

“I’ll come,” Steve said before you left the room. He finally shifted around and sat up so that he was facing you. “The onion rings will suck in the morning.”

“Very true,” You nodded and then smiled as he got up and found a random hoodie to put on. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m glad you’re joining me on this little adventure.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You drove Steve’s car, because you liked driving it more than your own, and he slept the entire ten-minute ride to the diner formally known as “Third Street.” The name had always been somewhat amusing to you because the small place was actually on a street called Cliffview. 

It was empty aside from one man sitting at the counter with a coffee mug in his hand and a woman occupying a booth, reading a book with a soda and a plate of fries in front of her. You briefly wondered what their stories were, what brought them to a diner at nearly one-thirty in the morning. 

You and Steve took your usual seats at the booth that you always sat at, and even though Robin and Eddie weren’t there at that moment, you two still decided to sit on the same side of the booth; it felt like second nature to do so. There was probably never a moment where you and Steve didn’t sit on the same side of any booth.

Since there was barely anyone in the diner right then, your orders were quickly taken by your waitress Cheryl, and they came out much faster too— a strawberry milkshake for you, a vanilla one for Steve, and a plate of onion rings for you two to share. 

You took a long sip of your drink and internally sighed in contentment because somehow that milkshake made all the work you’d done and the fact that you were keeping yourself awake to come here even though you were exhausted completely worth it. 

The two of you ate and drank your milkshakes in comfortable silence for a little while before Steve scooched down a bit in the seat and leaned his head on your shoulder.

“I actually am really sorry for waking you up,” You told him. “I forgot how long your shift was today, and I know you’re so fucking tired right now.” 

“The onion rings and milkshake make it okay,” He mumbled, and you couldn’t see him, but you had the strongest feeling that his eyes were closed. “Tell me about your project.”

You reached for your drink, taking a sip from it before responding. “Hearing about that will definitely put you to sleep.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe I wanna hear a bedtime story.”

You laughed a bit. “Okay, well in that case, definitely not because I don’t wanna get dirty looks from the other people in here when you start loudly snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Mhm, yeah, of course, you don’t,” You said, the sarcasm completely evident in your tone, and he poked your side which made you laugh again.

You placed your hands in the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing because they were cold from you holding your glass. “Okay, this has nothing to do with that dumb project… But, um, how mad do you think my parents would be if I dropped out of school?”

Steve’s answer came immediately. “They would blame me somehow and kill me.”

“That would quite literally never happen,” You said with a shake of your head. “My parents love you too much to be mad at you for longer than even an hour.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe that’s true. So, instead, they’d actually kill you, and then that would suck more for me than you because I’d have to live without you.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” You said with a small laugh before grabbing an onion ring.

“But, anyway, you’re not quitting school, so this hypothetical situation doesn’t matter,” Steve told you and then lifted his head off of your shoulder so that he could take a quick sip of his milkshake. “You were barely able to convince them that you didn’t want to go to the University of Chicago. I think they’re still somewhat in mourning over that.” 

Probably from the moment you became old enough to even think about college, your parents were pushing the idea of the University of Chicago onto you. Both of them had gone so it felt like the obvious choice for you to “follow in their footsteps;” well, the obvious choice mainly in their eyes. And for a while, you were okay with going in that direction because it felt like an easy option, and you were way too fucking smart not to get in, and when January rolled around you found out that you did. 

But then the thought of leaving Indiana, leaving your friends, leaving Steve, became something that no longer felt “okay” to you. And then there was the fact that you were still completely unsure what you even wanted to do, so it felt dumb to you to go to a school that was really good and really expensive without a solid “plan” for your future.

However, your parents were way too persistent and strong-willed to let you give it up that easily. So the compromise that was ultimately settled upon was that you’d do the two years of community college here at the one close by and then you’d transfer to the University of Chicago and finish your last two years there.

At first, the thought of that felt fine to you, but now it felt like something that you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to do anymore, even though it was still basically two years away. 

“Sometimes it just feels like a waste of time,” You said with a small sigh. “I still haven’t found that thing yet. My thing. What I wanna do.”

“You’ll find it.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing if I did quit, though. I could work at Family Video with you and Robin. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, it would be,” Steve nodded. “But, you don’t really wanna do that.”

You started picking at the now half-eaten plate of onion rings that sat between you two. “Technically, that’s true. But, that’s only because I don’t know what I wanna do at all.” 

“I think you just gotta give it some time. You’re way too smart not to be in college right now. One day you’ll walk into some class and it will all just suddenly click into place for you,” He told you, and he sounded so certain and sure. 

Somehow his encouraging words always managed to placate your thoughts; the type of existential thoughts that would usually only happen in the middle of the night. And you were glad that you had Steve to pull you back up before you spiraled harder. 

You let his words sit for a second before you slipped out of the booth and went over to the counter, smiling at Cheryl as you paid the bill. When you went back, settling in your spot next to Steve, he slung an arm around your shoulders. 

“If you did actually quit school, I’d fully take the blame and let your parents kill me,” He told you.  

You knew that you weren’t going to do it; you’d never be able to muster up the courage to pull the trigger. Therefore, you would instead just continue to live in this awkward phase that felt weird at times and hope that it would eventually work itself out. 

However, it was still nice to hear Steve’s words right then. 

“Thank you,” You responded, smiling at him and then mimicking his words from earlier. “But if you did that, then I would be the one suffering more because I’d have to live without you.”

He nodded thoughtfully at that. “Okay, new plan then. We just let them murder both of us.”

You laughed a bit as you pushed yourself even closer to him, putting your hands into his hoodie pocket once again. “Deal.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Could I request some hcs with Atsv Miguel x Milf Reader? Instead of (Dilf) him with Gabriella like the fic on ao3 what about a mommy or spider woman mommy reader with his child?

ugh ima go crazy with this one yall *barking* like miguel enjoys a domestic life

Miguel O'Hara x Milf!Reader Headcanons

Miguel is definitely overprotective of you during your pregnancy. He always calls or texts to check in on you and the baby, attends every ultrasound and asks a CRAZY amount of questions, and if you're about to run out of prenatal vitamins, he goes to the store to buy you two extra bottles.

He attends to every need. If you call him while he's patrolling the city for a hot dog or a cheeseburger with a jar of mayo, you bet your ass he's buying what you're craving.

He adores your round belly. Hands have to be constantly on it. Whether the two of you lay in bed or out in public, his hands are always on your belly.

By your side the entire time during your labor. Massages your aching hips as you go through contractions and supports you as the two of you walk around the hallways. He wipes away your tears and tells you how good you're doing. He holds your hand as you push, smiling once he hears the cries of his newborn baby.

A little girl, because come on, he's a girl dad.

Miguel first makes sure both his girls are good before going to get your burgers, because during your 47 hour labor (yeah it was long) you were only allowed ice chips and you were STARVING. So he got you two burgers and a large fry, because his wife just went through hours of grueling labor and needs to fill that belly up.

Loves your body before the birth and loves it after. Your belly is wrinkly and covered in stretch marks, love handles pudging out and thighs big. He noticed once the two of you got home that you were having a hard time with yourself, and listed off a number of reasons why he adores your body, which actually took thirty minutes and if you hadn't stopped him he would've kept going

Miguel is appreciative of you. Nine months of growing his baby inside of you and going through a long labor, making him a father. He loves you for your time and sacrifice and always make sure you know it. Whether its buying you flowers every two weeks or kissing you all over, telling you how much he loves you

He'll get up in the middle of the night whenever the baby cried or allowed you to sleep in. He does skin to skin contact with the baby, sitting in bed with the baby resting on his chest while checking updates on the multiverse on his watch.

The baby will make noises of distress and he'll smile, turning off his watch and holding his little girl in his hands. "What, mamas? What is it? Are you hungry? Or were you having a bad dream?" He'll rock her a bit before she settles down, and place a kiss on top of her head, breathing in that new born scent. "I'll always keep you safe, mija. You and mama are my world. I promise you, that with me, you will never have to worry."

Once the six weeks of healing are up, the two of you do wait an additional few weeks before having sex. Miguel didn't want to risk hurting you or getting pregnant again, considering you just had a baby. So when the baby was old enough to stay at your parents house for a night, the two of you threw yourselves at each other like wild animals.

Miguel went crazy with his mouth on your cunt, pushing your legs down to your chest, tongue swirling all over your wet folds before slithering into your hole. He focuses on your pleasure first before his own, because after all, you were the one who sacrificed your body. He was just the guy who nutted in you.

Loves wrapping his lips around your aching breasts and drink your milk, rubbing his condom covered cock against your pussy before sliding himself in, you digging your nails into his back as pleasure consumes your body.

"Yeah, that feel good?" he'll groan into your ear, his lips coated in golden nectar. He grinds his hips slowly into you, making sure not to hurt you. Until you begged him to move faster does he fuck into you, his arms on either side of your head, moaning into your ear.

After sex, he'll clean you up, dress the both of you in his t-shirts (his shirt fits on him snug but it's like a night gown on you). Miguel will hug you close, kissing your neck, saying, "You've made my life 100 times better, you know that, right?"

Miguel loves the little family he has and will anything to keep his family safe.

[psiroller]

in which chilchuck tries to get some but ends up a sucker to his caretaker instinct once again

i just wanted to write something where chilchuck unironically indulges laios' hyperfixation, lol. im folding this into something larger but it kind of stands on its own for now, so here.

“Hey,” Chilchuck slurred. An arm crawled around Laios’ shoulder, stirring him from his reading. “What are you doing up? It’s my shift.”

“Just research,” Laios replied cheerily. His eyes were drawn back to the book and away from Chilchuck, something that elicited a soft huff of irritation. “I’ll still be good to take over for you. I’m kind of wound up, you know? Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” Chilchuck snickered, his hand brushing across Laios’ chest with just a bit too much pressure to be purely friendly. “I’ve been wound up, too.”

Laios met Chilchuck’s lascivious gaze with concern. “Are you starving yourself again? You wouldn’t have such bad insomnia if you ate well.”

“I got wine, there’s nutrients in that,” Chilchuck giggled, giving Laios’ tit a fond pat. Laios smelled the drink on his breath and the hair on his neck stood on end.

“On an empty stomach? Chil…” “What you getting worked up for? I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Laios’ brows furrowed. Chil stared up at him, waiting for him to back down, and the smug smirk only widened when he didn’t.

“You gonna force-feed me or something? I didn’t take you as into that kind of thing.” “Knowing how depraved you are, you’d enjoy it if I did.” Chilchuck scoffed. “Oh, yeah, you’re one to talk—”

Laios closed his book. “You’re being reckless,” he declared, in that know-it-all leader tone. Rarely used—Laios hated using it—but terse enough for Chilchuck to tilt his head and shut his mouth for a minute. Not long enough.

“Being a little tipsy doesn’t mean my eyes and ears don’t work,” Chilchuck groaned, pulling away and slumping onto the next step up from the one he was perched on.  “It’s not my job to fight them anyway. All I gotta do is throw the bottle at your head and I’ve done my part.” “I’m not talking about the party, Chil.”

Chilchuck shrunk away from Laios and crossed his arms.

“When did you become such a nag?” Chilchuck groaned. “I’m older than you. I know my limits.”

Laios turned from his seat on the floor, rising on his knees, invading Chilchuck’s space. He braced his arms on either side of Chilchuck’s lap.

“Do I have to say why?” Laios rumbled. “If you don’t want me to care, stop making passes at me.”

Chilchuck clucked his tongue. “Didn’t have to hit on you to get you to take a few quills to the back for my bony ass.” “So much for never talking about that again.”

Chilchuck grinned. Laios’ eye twitched, knowing that Chil knew he’d taken the bait. Chilchuck reached up to cup Laios’ face; Laios let him, unfortunately.

“You can relax, big guy,” Chilchuck said, and the softness in his voice made Laios deflate all at once. “I got by just fine until you hired me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to believe you,” Laios murmured. Chilchuck could feel the muscles of his jaw working as he spoke, the weight of his heavy tallman skull in his palms. “I do. But you don’t know—" “I’m fine,” Chilchuck asserted. “What’s got you so…?”

He stopped, bit his tongue. Laios looked up at him with those insufferable, upturned puppy dog eyes, deep amber in the low firelight, and he remembered. Chilchuck let out a long-suffering sigh, stroked up his cheek into Laios’ hair and scratched his scalp.

“We got this,” Chilchuck said. “It’ll be alright.” Laios slumped forward into Chilchuck’s lap, thick jaw slamming down onto his legs like a harpsichord lid, and Chilchuck squawked. Laios turned his face into the loose-fitting, threadbare slacks Chilchuck normally wore to bed, sucking in a long breath that made his back rise and then letting it all out through his nose. It reminded Chilchuck of Leed’s wargs after a good dinner, resting their big, wrinkly heads on any friendly knee and whining for attention.

Chilchuck scratched at his sideburns. He knew propositioning Laios would be risky in the dungeon, but this wasn’t the kind of disaster he’d envisioned if it went wrong. His hand came to rest on Laios’ back, and he rubbed it along the length of Laios’ spine. Laios’ broad body sunk that much further into his lap. Chilchuck’s calves were going numb, but he held deathly stll, as if he’d scare Laios off. As if he didn’t want to scare Laios off and get out of this mess.

“We’ll find Falin,” Chilchuck said. “We did it before, and we’ll do it again.” Neither of them believed it, really, but it was a nice thought. Maybe if they chanted it enough a spell would be cast. No mana sickness yet; they’d have to keep at it.

“I’m pretty confident about that,” said Laios, muffled in Chilchuck’s legs. His breath puffed warm on his thighs in short, controlled breaths. “But if we do and we don’t get her, if the Mad Mage takes care of us, then—it’s not just Falin, anymore.”

Chilchuck’s breath caught. His fingers curled in Laios’ shirt and tugged fitfully. Laios didn’t budge.

“She used to be all I had, you know.” Laios hugged Chilchuck’s pins-and-needles calves, which further trapped him but also returned some level of blood flow. Small blessings. Chilchuck wished he were dead. “That was fine. It was—better that way. Less to worry about. Then I found a nice girl, and I proposed—"

“Wait, what?”

“—she was so cute, so nice to me, but when my father said Falin would have to leave, I couldn’t just leave my little sister to rot somewhere, so—I broke it off. It didn’t matter, if I could earn enough money and Falin would be okay—”

Try faking a heart attack. You have the plausible deniability. “He… sent Falin away?” He was dimly aware of Marcille and Falin having met at magic school. “You were supporting her?”

“—but I didn’t even—need to. She was happy where she was. And I still—I still dragged her here, let her get eaten, let the Mad Mage take her. What kind of brother—”

Chilchuck gripped the back of Laios’ skull and pulled at his hair, not enough to move him, but enough to shut him up. He let go and ruffled it instead, soothing out the tension in his scalp. Laios melted, limbs melting to the stone tunnel floor.

“I see why you’ve been so wound up,” Chilchuck said. “You’ve just been sitting here and spiraling. Are you even reading that book?”

Laios squeezed Chilchuck’s legs to his chest. “Not really. I’m looking at the words but I’m not… retaining anything.”

That’s bad. “Let me see it.” Laios looked up at Chilchuck with confusion, then distrust. “Please?” That only confused Laios further, but he lifted the worn old tome from the floor for Chilchuck to take.

“Dragons of the Eastern Archipelago,” Chilchuck read out. “Another cookbook, eh?”

The jocular tone whiffed right past Laios’ ears. “It’s… not really research,” he admitted. Chilchuck thumbed through the pages—there were many detailed technical sketches of long-bodied, short-limbed dragons with horsehair and deer antlers, strange boggling eyes and stretched lips. More impressionistic doodles filled the margins, with scrawled-circle eyes and jagged teeth, little flared scratches of the broad side of a pencil representative of dragon fire. Their fat snake bodies had wobbly, uneven sides and sloppily looping scales—but some were a little more distinguishable as a dragon than others.

“Ah.” Chilchuck cleared his throat. “Nothing wrong with a little light reading, I guess.” He tried on a smile. “The, uh, pictures are nice.” “I kept telling Falin that long don’t breathe fire,” Laios said, voice tight, “but she kept saying it would be cooler if they did.” “That’s what they’re called? Longs? Seems kind of on-the-nose.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Laios, but it sounded more exasperated than anything. “It’s just one of the native words used for them, but it’s not Shuro’s language, apparently. The word he uses is ryu.”

“I haven’t seen anydragons other than red and green. Maybe it’s just the dungeons I’ve been to.” Chilchuck said. He winced, realizing he’d just stumbled over a lecture topic, but Laios stayed folded across his lap, seemingly having gotten comfortable there, and stayed quiet. The silence made Chilchuck’s hair bristle. Chilchuck nudged him, knuckles against Laios’ temple.

“C’mon, man, I set you up. Go on.” “Now you’re just making fun of me.” “Seriously, Laios. I really want to know this time, and you’re gonna sulk about it?”

Laios turned up from his lap to read Chilchuck’s face, though he never seemed to be able to get it right all the other times he’d attempted it. Chilchuck heaved a melodramatic sigh and patted Laios’ head, an action that lowered his hackles. It really shouldn’t have worked that easily, but Laios closed his eyes and hummed.

“There are… so many kinds,” Laios said dreamily. Dread began to creep in on Chilchuck’s charitable mood, but he’d talked himself into a corner. “They’re super adaptable. Pretty much anywhere you have a dungeon or an ecosystem robust enough to support one, you can find a dragon.”

“I’ve, uh, heard about white dragons. Furry ones, kind of like these guys, but with wings and the stocky body type. Never seen one, though, so it could have been bullshit.” “Oh, they’re real. Pretty common up north.” “Do they really breathe ice? How does that work?”

“Basically, yeah. It’s super-cooled air. They have huge lungs and a fuel organ like a red dragon, but instead of burning the waste matter inside, it liquefies it into a kind of slurry—” Chilchuck grimaced, but Laios was already talking with his hands and not measuring Chilchuck’s enthusiasm. “—that undergoes a rapid chemical reaction when exposed to the air the dragon exhales.”

“Huh.” Chilchuck absently stroked the back of Laios’ neck. Laios squirmed, but didn’t complain. He slipped out of his kneeling position to sit flatter against the wall, head still flopped over Chilchuck’s lap but looking outward toward the fire. The angle looked uncomfortable, so Chilchuck dropped a step lower, letting Laios slide over just a bit more, lay more solidly in Chilchuck’s lap. Laios’ ears had turned red. “Y’know, I always just figured magic did it. I never knew any of the biology until I met you.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong for thinking that way,” Laios half-shrugged. “They wouldn’t exist without some kind of mana source, so they’re still a product of magic. But to sustain the kind of huge, complex bodies dragons have on mana alone would starve the ecosystem, so they have to develop organs and bones to keep them upright and moving to serve their purpose.”

“To destroy whatever enters their lair?”

“To survive.”

“Same as the rest of us, then.”

Laios hummed. Chilchuck’s wrists had begun to hurt from holding the book, so he propped it up on the crown of Laios’ skull. He didn’t seem to mind.

“So what’s this big pearl they keep drawing the long dragon with?” Chilchuck asked, even though the answer was right beneath it, indicated helpfully in a list of figures.

“Oh, that’s an egg, believe it or not.”

“No kidding.”

“Dragon clutches start out pretty big, but because of how demanding the hatchlings are, most of them don’t survive to adulthood. Some species of dragon choose a ‘favorite’ out of their eggs to focus on and raise instead…”

Chilchuck smiled into the palm of his hand as Laios rambled, flipping through the book to keep his eyes open as Laios talked, listening as the spaces between words grew and his tangents unspooled, dissolving into dreamlike nonsense. The weight of Laios’ head got heavier in Chilchuck’s lap until the static crept back in, but Chilchuck had no intention of moving him anymore. It was well past the scheduled watch shift change by the time Laios began to softly snore, but Chilchuck didn’t rouse him.