#and now my mom doesn’t have to worry about her every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookslastbutton · 1 month

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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

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#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

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mynamesaplant · 3 months

Text

Forgiveness is Electric

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

#pokemon #submas #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #sorry critter #i started writing about Tynamo before i remembered he probably didn't have it by that point #im just gonna say newly acquired and cross my fingers #tynamo is shy #nobody knows about it #🤞🤞🤞🤞🤞

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literaila · 3 months

Text

eavesdropping

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: seriously, the door was already open

warnings: satoru is an idiot, as per usual, sad tsumiki :(

last part | next part

year one.

satoru approaches the door to tsumiki’s room and he pauses.

after two weeks straight with the kids, you’d finally returned back to work--leaving the three of them to fend for themselves for the day--but you'd insisted on coming over for dinner.

to which satoru suggested, for the twentieth time, that you might as well stay the night. might as well move in already.

really, there's plenty of space.

but you'd pinched his arm and pushed past him at the door, telling the kids that you brought dinner. you didn't stay behind to watch satoru cradle his arm or smile at the back of your head.

and, seriously, he doesn't mean to eavesdrop (if he meant to he would've planned out something much more sophisticated than this) but the door is already slightly cracked.

“—but megumi doesn’t like it," he hears tsumiki say, soft and concerned. her tiny voice is a whisper through the opened door, so satoru takes another step towards it.

“that’s okay," he hears your voice saying, "you can talk about it if you want.”

one eye appears through the crack and he can see you and tsumiki, curled up on the bed, her eyes looking up at yours, tear stains an obvious sin.

satoru is quiet as he pushes the door, ever so slightly.

“he always ignores me when i talk about my mom or his dad, or he says something mean about them. sometimes he won’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

this seems plausible. just five minutes ago satoru had witnessed an influx of cursed energy coming from megumi when tsumiki merely mentioned their old house and the dolls she kept on her windowsill.

he can still feel that anger brewing now, but megumi, so you’ve said to him, needs to breathe. you didn't exactly tell him to exit the table and leave the little boy alone, or come to tsumiki's room to check on the two of you, but, he knows that's what you meant. you don't have to say something for satoru to help out. he’s just doing what’s best for all of you.

honestly, you probably wouldn't even mind that he's listening in on this conversation.

you tilt your head at her. “did you ask him why?”

tsumiki sniffles, she pushes a sticky hand at the hair matted to her head, so you gently push it away and move it for her instead, much gentler with her than you've ever been with him. satoru almost complains, before he remembers that he's not even there.

“he thinks that they don’t care about us,” tsumiki answers, the hurt obvious in her voice, "he—he can’t remember everything that i can, but he doesn’t care. he doesn't want to.”

you coo at her softly, nodding your head with every word.

satoru has never heard the little girl so sad--he's used to her smiling face and bright energy. honestly, if there's an opposite to cursed energy, it would be tsumiki.

you must feel as disturbed by the difference in the little girl as he does because he watches as you try to restrain a frown.

satoru's eyes are wide through the crack as you attempt a smile. “it’s okay to not feel the same,” you tell her, “wanting to remember your parents isn’t going to make megumi hate you.”

“but it upsets him.”

“well not talking about it upsets you, right?” you say this the same way you chide satoru. and, yeah, you typically know best.

not that he'll ever admit that.

but tsumiki nods.

“then you should talk about it. don’t worry about megumi. you can tell me about them, or satoru.”

he wants to open the door completely just at the sound of his name.

“really?”

“you can talk about whatever you want with us. we’ll always listen," your smile is genuine now.

satoru tries to imagine you as a little girl, with someone wiping your tears away. but he doesn't quite believe that you were ever as small as tsumiki looks now. you'll always be this to him, he supposes, safe and infallible.

even when you were younger, blinking idly at him as he introduced himself to his new underclassmen, you were certain. he's always been sure about that.

tsumiki frowns, her eyes wide. “gojo put his hands over his ears and started singing yesterday when you asked him to take the trash out.”

he has to catch a laugh. you shift around on the bed, your face is stern but satoru can see you about to laugh.

you nudge her with your head, teasing. “i didn’t say he always listens to me.”

the little girl laughs as you nuzzle her nose and for a moment, satoru thinks he's invading.

but how can he walk away when the two of you are cuddled so close, looking so cute together? he should probably take a picture, just so he can always remember this.

but then again, a camera probably wouldn't capture the supple sound of tsumiki's laugh as you cuddle her, or your smile as you hold her closer.

so he just stands there, observing.

you don't say anything as the girl thinks, merely rub your hand up and down on her back, like a reminder that you're still there.

tsumiki remains quiet for a moment, and then she whispers, “i’m afraid that i’ll forget about my mom."

satoru is shocked by the statement, little pricks of guilt perusing through his chest. during all of the digging he did about toji zenin, he wasn't sure where the woman was, or if she was worth finding. he hadn't even thought of it, really. he wasn't very good at that.

and he watches as you pause, feeling kind of eager to see how you'll respond.

your hand continues its circles, and you smile, gently, knowing. “i used to feel that way too," you tell her, just as softly.

and maybe that hurts satoru even more.

“really?”

“yeah. i don’t talk to my mom anymore, but i used to worry that i would forget how she smelled," your nose falls in tsumiki's hair, and you pause for a moment. satoru almost smiles as you close your eyes. "or the way she hugged me," you add, squeezing.

he's never really heard you talk about your parents before. the vauge comment here and there, sure, but nothing more. he knows the bare bones of when you left home—if only from what yaga told suguru, a million years ago, but nothing more. you don’t talk about that.

or maybe he's just never asked.

tsumiki nods, her wide eyes kind of amazed at the confession. and satoru is suddenly glad that he let you follow tsumiki to her room, that he knocked on your door that first night when he wasn't sure what to do with either of them.

you understand this better than he ever could. better than he ever will.

“did you forget?”

you smile. “no. it’s hard to forget those little things, no matter how long it’s been," you consider it for a second, "i don’t remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name.”

tsumiki's perks up, “do you think it’ll be like that for me?”

“i don’t know, sweetheart. it could be. you might remember more than i do," you cup her face for a moment, hoping with her.

“my mom always wore rose perfume,” tsumiki's hands cover your own, and she looks closely at you, like satoru wishes he could. “do you miss your mom?”

satoru holds his breath for a moment, and your eyes narrow as you think.

“sometimes," you admit.

“does it make you sad?”

“every once in a while.“

tsumiki swallows, her face falling. “i miss my mom."

you kiss her head. satoru sees your eyes flutter closed as you speak to her, so softly he almost misses it. “it’s okay to be sad without them.”

satoru closes his eyes with you, for just a moment.

he thinks about aquariums and trips to abandoned houses and souvenirs that he couldn't keep but covet.

and his eyes open again.

“really?” tsumiki asks as if she doubts it.

“yeah. that’s just the way love comes out sometimes. it makes you sad.”

“will it always?”

“well, you’ll always love your mom, right?” the girl nods without thinking, and you smile at her. “then being without her will always make you a little sad. and sometimes a lot. but it’ll find its place in your heart, like everything does.”

tsumiki thinks about this for a moment.

satoru wants her to ask how many holes you have in your heart, and if you think they could ever be filled.

and he also wants her to never ask you anything again. he shouldn't be listening to this, but he's stuck at the door.

“do you think about your parents a lot?”

“almost every day,” you say, looking away from the girl for a moment. and then you look back. “but i think about how my mom is happy where she is, and how i’m happy where i am.”

satoru almost falls through the door.

“you are?”

“well yeah,” you say, obviously. you squeeze her a bit. “i’ve got you here. and megumi and satoru. how couldn’t i be happy?”

tsumiki settles into you, she nods in agreement, but considers something, frowning up at you. “i don’t want megumi to be mad at me. he’s my best friend.”

“he’s not really mad,” you tell her--and, well, satoru disagrees. megumi is mad at everything. “and even if he was, he’ll always forgive you. that’s what best friends do. they argue and then make up.”

“who’s your best friend?”

your lip twitches. “satoru. and we fight all the time.”

“really? gojo?”

satoru wants to ask the same question. shoko, he might've assumed. nanami, even. if you knew he was there you would probably say that tsumiki was your best friend, just to mess with him.

but he's there, and you don't know.

you shake your head, acknowledging how crazy this statement is. “yup. i’m stuck with him.”

“has he always been your best friend?”

“oh no,” you laugh at the suggestion. “we met just a couple of years ago, at school. and he always had more friends than i did.”

“…but now?”

“he’s been my best friend for a while, i guess, but i haven’t been his for very long.”

satoru frowns.

“cause you always fight?”

you laugh. “something like that.”

something like what?

and then you turn to her, eyes on eyes, making sure that she’s looking at you. “tsumiki, you know—“

and satoru thinks that he’s heard enough. he doesn't want any more secrets or any more questions. he closes the door as quietly as possible, letting his ear linger on the wood when he hears the two of you laugh.

satoru sits for a moment, almost able to see your smile through the door, without all of his eyes, like he really took that picture.

and then he walks away, into the dining room, where megumi is pushing his dinner around on a plate.

satoru sits down.

“what are they doing?” megumi asks, gruffly. he's calmer now, satoru notes, though grumpy as ever.

“girl stuff.”

“it’s dinner time.”

“oh, megumi,” satoru tsks, shaking his head. “you’ve got lots to learn about women.”

megumi frowns. “i know more than you.”

“okay, i just came here to have a good time—“

later on, you’re unloading the dishwasher, trying to be quiet while the kids get ready for bed, and satoru walks in.

in striped pajamas naturally. no glasses. he is already grinning at you as he leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on the granite.

you roll your eyes automatically, pushing him a little because he's in your way.

"what, satoru?"

“so, i’m your best friend, huh?”

you turn. “i knew that door was open—“

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

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can you pleaseeeee do a chris sturniolo x fem reader where she invites him to meet her family? maybe she has a big family and he’s a little nervous to impress them all? i hope that doesn’t that dumb <33

meeting the family // bf!chris

super soft chris

“Baby?” my boyfriend’s voice calls from our shared bed.

I’m standing in the bathroom, drying my face with a towel while he scrolls through his phone. “Yes?”

“What time are you parents getting in today?”

Chris has been overloaded with anxiety about meeting my family since we started dating months ago. I had moved to LA for college, stumbled into Chris through mutual friends, and with him knowing that I have family on the opposite coast that he has been able to get out of having the awkward first interaction with for months, he’s beginning to panic now that it’s coming up.

He has no real reason to worry though. My parents have always been pretty casual and free to let me do what I want, make my own mistakes. But Chris was never a mistake, and while he’s paranoid about them liking him, I have plenty of confidence that today will go well.

They’re flying in from my hometown to visit me over a short break I have from school. I was flying back home so much that they decided they wanted to come to the west coast to see me for a change.

“2, but they’re Ubering to their hotel so my sister can sleep.”

My sister, who is 4, was, in the nicest way, a complete and total freak accident.

I was an only child my entire life, and when my sister popped out, our age gap was so evident that I would often get asked if I was a single teenage mom when I would take her to the store with me.

Their day of traveling with her must have been hell. It’s rough enough to go from coast to coast as is, but with a whiny 4-year-old who just wants to sleep the whole time but probably can’t find comfort on the plane, I doubt it was peaceful.

I can hear the bed creak a bit as Chris gets up and stumbles into the bathroom. His hair is a mess, curls in every direction. His eyelids are heavy, and he drops his head on my shoulder to show me just how exhausted he is. His swollen lips kiss my neck as his arms wrap around my waist. He smiles at me through the mirror, places another kiss to my cheek, then turns around to the shower, turning on the water.

“You feeling any better about the big introduction?” I ask, earning a groan in response.

“Are you trying to make me feel more nervous?”

“I’m trying to make you feel better.”

He peels his shirt off and tosses it to the ground. “I’m happy to be meeting them, but no, I’m still scared shitless.”

While he showered, I talked to my mom to coordinate our plans for the rest of the day. By the time he was back to our room, our day had been decided.

“My parents are going to Uber back to their hotel so my sister can take a nap, and then we’re going to take them to dinner,” I relay the plans back to him.

He nods as he puts on a fresh shirt and pants. “Sounds good.”

We go about the rest of our day before heading to the hotel my family will be spending the next few days at. Chris’ hand taps the wheel nervously. I offered to hold his hand, but he insisted that he was too worked up to feel comfortable holding mine, as his hand was probably too sweaty.

I couldn’t help but find it adorable how much he cared. I knew he really had nothing at all to be worried about. The idea of him caring so much though was so sweet, and I felt really lucky that I had been with someone who wanted to make a lasting impression. It made me think he wanted to make sure they liked him enough for him to be in my life for a long time.

When Chris pulled into the hotel parking lot, he let out a deep breath.

“Rainbows, butterflies, unicorns,” he muttered, trying to calm himself down.

A cackle left my mouth at the sound of him.

His eyes shot open and he glared at me. “Stop laughing!”

“Chris, this is ridiculous! You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing.”

He stared at me with a blank expression like that was enough to challenge my words.

“Babe,” I started. “My dad is as protective as any dad is, but he’s a nice man and he cares much more about me being happy than anything else. He can only protect me so much from as far as we live anyway. My mom, she’s easy going and loves everyone. And my sister is 4 and will like you as long as you acknowledge her existence. You’re fine, let’s go.”

With that, I exit the car and head for the front doors. I hear Chris’ door close behind me and his footsteps follow. I lead Chris up to my family’s room, knocking a few times so they can let us in.

The door swings open, revealing my mom. “Honey!”

Before I can say anything, her arms are wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Hi, mom. How was your flight?”

She let out a sigh. “Exhausting, but we made it. Your sister couldn’t fall asleep and complained about her ears hurting, so she took a nap for a bit when we got settled here and-”

“SISSY!”

The sound of my sister’s voice was enough to make my face light up. I squatted down to her height as she ran to me with her arms out. I hooked my hands under her arms and picked her up, holding her at my hip.

“Hey girly! I heard you didn’t have too much fun on your flight, huh?”

“Uh uh,” she said, shaking her head before resting it on my shoulder.

I could sense her eyes on Chris, who had been standing behind me. After a few seconds, she started giggling.

I bopped her up a bit so she could look at me. “What’s so funny?”

Her cheeks blushed as she pointed to Chris, then put her head back on my shoulder.

“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding at her as she hides from my boyfriend. “That’s Chris. He’s very nice.”

Chris waved his hand at her, smiling big enough for my sister to giggle again.

“Why don’t you guys come in and sit down for a bit?” my mom suggested.

Carrying my sister still, I walked inside with Chris behind me and sat down on the bed.

“Hi sweetheart,” my dad greeted me, kissing me on the head. He stuck his hand out to Chris, who wiped his hand on his pants before shaking my dad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“Yeah– Um. You too,” Chris stumbled over his words.

In an attempt to let Chris relax a little, I sat my sister on my lap and said, “Why don’t you let Chris meet Bobo?”

Her eyes lit up and she jumped out of my lap, racing to the bed to grab her stuffed monkey.

She bolted back to Chris, holding her monkey proudly in front of him.

“This is Bobo?” he asked, an element of excitement in his tone that was enough to make any kid think that what they had to share was golden. “Can I hold him?”

She nodded, smiling.

“Wowwwwwww. Did you know monkey’s are my favorite? I had a lot when I was little.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor, making both my parents laugh.

“Bobo was with me… the whole time… on the plane,” she said. She spoke like she was out of breath, like the excitement was too much for her. “I was scared of the plane and mommy said Bobo would protect me!”

“I bet he did!” Chris nodded. “He looks like he has that power.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Chris and my sister interacting, as well as how he had finally loosened up and gotten comfortable around my family. While we continued to talk, my sister climbed up on his lap, and I fucking melted at how fast he put his arms around her for support and helped her up. She put her head on his chest, and while holding Bobo, I could see just how tired she still was.

“Uh oh,” my mom said. “Looks like she’s out again.”

All our eyes found my little sister passed out asleep on my boyfriend’s chest. He looked down to try to see for himself, but was blocked by the back of her head.

My mom stood up with her phone. “This is too cute. Do you mind if I take a picture of you guys?”

Chris didn’t even respond. Instead he looked up at my mom with the biggest smile I’d ever seen, holding onto my sister.

All his fears went away, and just like I thought, he was the perfect fit for this family.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 month

Text

The Better Man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, minor angst

Summary: You're a single mom who hates bringing men into your life only to have them leave. Your daughter deserves better than that. You're currently dating Spencer, and you're wondering if it's the right time to bring him into her life. Will it be worth it?

Square Filled: “you want? you want? you want? what about what I want?” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

I can do this. I’m more than capable of getting breakfast ready for both me and my daughter. Even if she is screaming her head off. Oh, please be quiet. Please make it stop.

“Gemma, please stop crying. I am getting your food.” She continues to cry. “Baby, please. I’m working as hard as I can right now.”

If anyone were to look in your kitchen window, they would see a woman who is just trying to feed her child while looking like a raccoon with messy bedhead hair. The bags under your eyes don’t help your case, either, but you haven’t gotten much sleep this past week. Gemma has been sick and has been keeping you up at all hours of the night.

Sometimes you feel like a shitty mom because it seems like whatever you do isn’t enough. Being a single mom is hard. No one told you how to do this. No one gave you a rule book and said, “Here you go! Study for the final exam!” where the final exam is actually having a kid. You’re doing the best you can do even if it doesn’t feel like it.

Before you can start crying because Gemma is crying, you plate some bananas, cereal, and small strawberries on a plate for her. She immediately stops crying when the food is in front of her, and she digs in. You chuckle tiredly and kiss the top of her head. She is getting so old. It seems like yesterday you birthed her when really, it’s been eight months.

Your phone rings and you light up at seeing Spencer’s name.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey. I’m off this weekend if you want to hang out.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get a sitter,” you sigh. “I’m pretty low on money right now.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind if you bring her along. I understand if you don’t want to, but I’m really great with kids. I’d love it if she came along.”

You and Spencer have been seeing each other for a few months but he hasn’t met your daughter yet. You don’t want to introduce her to someone new if they’re not going to be in your life for very long. You really like Spencer and you hope he’s going to be in your life for a long time. He’s been very patient when it comes to your daughter, and maybe it’s time they meet.

“Why don’t you come over? I’d feel more comfortable having a date here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time you meet Gemma.”

“Okay, yeah! I’ll bring some food over and we can cook together.”

“That’d be amazing,” you smile.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay. Bye.” You hang up with a huge smile on your face. “You hear that, Gemma? You get to meet Spencer. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

She squeals in response but it’s mostly because she wants more bananas. You’re not worried that she will love him, it’s if Spencer will love her. You can’t think about that. You have work to get to. The call center you work at has a daycare attached to it for parents who can’t get someone to watch their kids, so every day is Bring Your Daughter To Work Day.

The weekend comes faster than you expected but that means Spencer gets to come over. He might even spend the night if all goes well. When Spencer comes over, he is nothing but sweet towards Gemma. She is playing in her playpen but as soon as Spencer walks in, she squeals and crawls over to him.

“Spencer, this is Gemma. Baby, this is Spencer.” Spencer grins and picks her up once she gets to him. “I’ve been trying to get her to walk lately. She turns eight months next week.”

“Hi, Gemma. Do you want to walk for Mama? Yeah, I can see it. You’ll get there,” he chuckles.

Spencer brings in the groceries he bought so you two can cook lunch while Gemma plays and watches Spongebob. While you don’t know how to be a single mom, and learning every day to be better, you’d rather do this than be with the ex who knocked you up. He left you when you were pregnant so it’s just been you and Gemma for a long time now. It’s hard to let men in your life, especially with a kid so young, but Spencer has been nothing but a complete gentleman to you. He takes things at your pace, never does anything to make you uncomfortable, and always puts you and Gemma first.

Dinner is spent talking about your week and the plans you have this weekend and afterward, Spencer goes to the living room to play with Gemma some more. He’s really warming up to her. Maybe this is going to be a good thing. Your phone rings and your blood runs cold when you see who is calling you. You excuse yourself and step off to the side while Spencer tosses Gemma in the air a few inches only to catch her. Her laughter makes this night all the better.

“What do you want?” you ask when you answer the phone.

“Hey, you got any money to spot me? I’m in a bit of a pickle,” your ex asks.

“Are you kidding me right now? You call me up after how many months only to ask for money?”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Fuck no,” you hiss on the phone. “This might be in your grand plan, but I want you to actually start acting like a dad and be there for Gemma. You know, the daughter you have?”

“You want? You want? You want? What about what I want?”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“Fuck this. I can’t believe calling you was ever a good idea.”

He hangs up after those harsh words, and you try your hardest not to cry. He’s fucking lucky you’re not going after him for child support, but maybe you should.

“Y/N! Look!” You look at Spencer and Gemma to see her walking toward him on wobbly legs. “She’s walking!”

“Gemma!” you gasp and rush over. “You’re walking, baby!”

Before she can fall to the ground, Spencer scoops her in his arms and kisses her cheeks. She has no idea what is going on but she loves the attention. Spencer looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere but here. Seeing him with Gemma today has only made you realize that he’s the only man you ever want in Gemma’s life.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

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venusacrossthestars · 2 months

Text

barbies

Pairings- Dad!Daniel x Mom! Reader

WC-1.1k

Summary- Daniel does in fact not know how to play Barbies

f1 masterlist

A/N- anytime I can slander Tika I will. IYKYK

Daniel had thought that he had the whole girl-dad thing down. He knew how to act during tea parties. He knew not to move during makeovers. He would sing, albeit terribly, during the Princes part of Disney song just so his little girl could focus on singing the Princesses part. He thought he had it all down, but there was one thing he couldn’t master for the life of him- playing Barbies.

Everytime Charlotte asked him to play it always ended in frustration for both parties. It seemed that no matter what he did it was always wrong. On one occasion he had Robert, the Ken doll that was affectionately renamed, and Charlotte her Barbie- Margot.

Daniel was laying on the floor, acting his part believing all was well. “Well don’t you look radiant today darling,” he said as he walked Robert into the Dreamhouse.

This was all it took to set off the six year old, “No daddy! Robert doesn’t call Margot ‘darling’ he calls her babe and Margot calls him honey.”

“Well why can’t he call her darling?” Daniel, genuinely curious as to why it mattered.

“Because you always call mommy babe and she always calls you honey,” she stated it as the most obvious fact in the world.

Daniel found it adorable that your daughter took notice of something as small as pet names and integrated it into her own little world. However, she wasn’t amused. “Daddy, you don’t have to play anymore, I can play by myself now.” She said, taking Robert out of Daniels hand. He didn’t have the courage to argue, knowing how particular she was when it came to playing with her Barbies.

Later that night, long after Charlotte had gone to bed, the two of you sat in bed watching reruns of your favorite show.

“Your daughter is very picky about her pet names for her Barbies,” Daniel tells you, remembering the incident that happened earlier.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Very much so, Robert only calls Margot ‘babe’ and she only calls him ‘honey’, and you want to know what she told me?” You hum in curiosity, Daniel continues, “its because those are the pet names we call each other. She then proceeded to relieve me of my Barbie duties.”

“As she should, playing Barbies is very serious business.” You tease back. “I was the same way.”

“Why is it so hard to play dolls,” Daniel buries his head into his pillow.

“Don’t worry honey,” you rub his back in soothing circles, “maybe one day you’ll get the hang of it.”

“You never have problems when you play with her.”

“You forget that I was a little girl once.”

Every time Daniel, in his words, fucked up playing Barbies he noticed that Charlotte wouldn’t ask him to play dolls with her for a couple days. He didn’t want to sound childish, but it did in fact hurt his feelings.

As usual, days passed before Charlotte asked him to play again. And as usual Daniel had somehow screwed up, but this was no ordinary screw up, this was monumental. He didn’t even know what he did wrong, things were going so well until they weren’t.

“Mommy!” The little girl yelled, “mommy!”

“What?!” Your voice carried throughout the house.

“Daddy isn’t playing Barbies right.” She whined.

In a matter of seconds you appeared in the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, “what’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Daniel admits, “we’re sitting here and all of the sudden I’m not doing it right.”

“Charlotte, baby, remember what I told you?” you remind your daughter.

She nods in response, “I’m sorry daddy, I know you don’t know how to play Barbies.”

Daniel looks flabbergasted at what his daughter has just said to him and looks at you through squinted eyes. “You told her I don’t know how to play Barbies?”

“No, I told her you don’t know how to play the real version of Barbies, you think you know how to, but in reality you play the straight man way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Baby, how about you and me show daddy how we play Barbies?” You ask your daughter, whose face lights up in excitement. She gets up and hurries over to her bin of Barbies to pull out your designated Barbie, Lisa.

You move into the room and sit next to Daniel, “watch and learn from the master.”

The three of begin to play and Daniel thinks all is normal, you are doing everything that he typically does, but things quickly take a turn.

You walk up Lisa to Robert, “Hiiiii Robert, you look good today.”

Charlotte, well Margot, quickly interrupts, “why are you talking to my man?” Daniels eyes widen, where did she learn this from?

“I was just giving him a compliment Marggie.”

Charlotte shakes Margot in faux rage, “how many times do I have to tell you that my name is Margot.”

“Well I think its just the cutest nickname, don’t you Robbie?” You turn Lisa’s attention to the Ken doll Daniel is holding. Daniel doesn’t move or say anything.

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that Robert?” His daughter- no- Margot questions.

“See he agrees with me,” you move the dolls hand so it is now resting on Roberts shoulder.

This proceeds to set your daughter off. “I have had it with you and your flirting towards my boyfriend!”

“Well what are you going to do about it?” You taunt.

“I’ll show you what!” Charlotte exclaims and then lunges towards you and Lisa.

Daniel just sits in shock, the noise of plastic colliding, your mock ow’s between giggles, and Charlotte’s laughter fills his ears. When he thought of Barbies he always thought of dressing up dolls, making little families, all that soft stuff. Not this.

“You alright over there honey?” You ask your husband, who just continues to stare in disbelief “Charlotte I think we broke your father.”

“I’ve never seen anyone play Barbies like this.”

“Well this is how I’ve always played, but my mom did say once that I played…. Uniquely,” you shrug.

“That was fun!” Charlotte exclaims, throwing herself into your arms.

You cradle her close to your chest, “I’m glad, did you learn anything?”

“Yeah,” Daniel responds, “that I truly know nothing about playing barbies.”

“This is mild compared to the scenarios I made up,” you admit.

“This. Mild? What did you do to your dolls woman?”

“I’m not telling you with such influenceable ears around.”

“My God,” is all Daniel can manage out.

“Hey, don’t judge me.”

“I’m just rethinking my life choices.”

“You asked me to marry you, you knew fully well what you were getting yourself into.”

“Mommy?” Charlotte interjects, “can we watch one of those old barbie movies?”

You groan. “They aren’t even that old!” You exclaim. “Which one did you want to watch?”

“The Island Princess one!”

At that Daniel groans, “that’s the one with the annoying elephant isn’t it?”

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you

@arieslost @miaa1001 @babybadger @k3nmakyan @livelovesports @aspens-trees @yeetskeetstreet @racingheartsposts @emmma232 @isalovestaylor @imchiarashelby1 @m4dyi @melissayalene-blog @gothicwidowsworld @lizzieolsenfan86 @firestormsandlightning @erjn45 @evelyn-4034 @vkncgzxf @naaanasworld @ladyoflynx @bre99 @foulsongfest @teenagedramqueen @kstyles-06 @asparklysoul @kodzzukenn @snakelore @lochnoch @hhppw7 @whentheautumnleavesfall @gxuh @clarasmagic @xoxonoire @annahowardsworld @estellabookreader @user2604 @babysitter19 @dylan-obrienn24 @sadisticfries @cocote1410 @prettylittlels @itsbwokenln4 @amandaauroraelli @wargetter @happylittlereader @2502zena @bathedinheat @itsmeeluciie @olivyamarvelgirl @justtprachisblog @its-cat-eyes @embonbon @nickxcorpse @accnt-1 @cosmoscoffeee @phantomxoxo @caramelahamilton @inejismylife @iloved111lfs @caseket @selsbackyard @alex0808 @blueberrysmoothie673 @sergantbarnesbitch @a-disturbing-self-reflection @bethiebeth12 @thereisa8ella @giada-chan @slaygirlbossworld @chuchiestpt

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo

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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

all of me | luke castellan

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: sooooooo i know that i said i would work on something else but this hit me and suddenly i could not rest until i wrote something for it so you're getting headcanons since i can't formulate proper thoughts. some of this is dialogue but most of this is pure stream of consciousness. im already kind of obsessed w them ?

wc: 3.7k lollll this got away from me but it was so much fun.

warning(s): parental death, fighting, normal royal stuff. fluff, angst, all that good shit

princess!reader and knight!luke

yeah

and they're childhood friends bc they grew up in the castle together

YEAH

luke is the son of a kingsguard and he wants to be just like his mom

his father is out of the picture (booo) and his mom never really talks about him but she’s raised luke the best she can

shoutout to may castellan, she was the first female kingsguard! and definitely the first to personally guard the king

you are the heir to the throne and the only thing you're sure of is that you want luke to be in your life

you basically spent all your time together because he was kinda the only one your parents would approve you hanging out with

most of the crownsguard don't have children and those that do have them live with their spouse outside of the palace, and your parents didn't want you spending time with the children of servants

and luke's mom is your father's closest friend because she's the king's personal knight and so everything’s basically already vetted and they don’t have to worry about you accidentally getting murdered by him

so you and luke basically spend every moment of your free time together!!

even when you’re not free tbh

sometimes you beg your tutor to hold your lessons outside so that you can sneak glimpses at the knights training and luke training alongside them

whenever he sees you, his face always instantly brightens and he will lose focus in whatever tf he’s doing because he’s only thinking about you now

and instead of either of you doing what you’re supposed to do, you just spend the whole time making faces at each other and trying to grab the other’s attention

after his mother tries (and fails) to get him back on track a million times and your tutor realizes that you’re never going to listen to her historical prattles they allow the two of you to talk for “FIVE MINUTES AND NO LONGER MY BOY” and your tutor is all “i ask that you do not delay our lessons any further, your highness”

and tbf you and luke could notttttt care less. you immediately join up and you start teasing him about his form and how he was holding his sword and he just makes fun of you for having to be a princess

“Your form is horrendous, Luke! How do you expect to beat anyone holding a sword like that?”

“At least I’ll be on the battlefield one day. You can bore our enemies to sleep with your recounts of Aureldan history.”

“Oh, I bet I could beat you right now. I’ve got royal blood in my veins.”

“And I’ve got knight’s blood in mine,” he says. “I’ve at least got a sword. That’s more than you have.”

You huff. “Mother says I have to learn propriety before I even think about picking up a weapon.”

“Do you want to hold mine?” he asks immediately, his eyes lighting up as he offers it over. “It’s just wood because Mom doesn’t want me to hurt myself, but that means it’s safe for you.”

you do. obviously.

You’ve got soft hands, untouched by the world, and the sword feels foreign in their grasp as you realize this is in fact the first time you’ve ever held a weapon. You cut it through the air a few times and Luke is grinning wider than ever

“I think the role of a warrior princess suits you,” he says.

“It is nice,” you muse as you turn it over in your hands, already growing used to the feeling of it.

“And you look great with it,” he says. “Powerful.”

“I’d give myself a splinter before I can do anything with it,” you retort as you hand it back to him. “It’s a nice thought, though.”

His eyes light up. “You should train with us sometime. My mom is the best at teaching— she’d teach you everything you need to know!”

You glance back at your tutor, who is very clearly eavesdropping, and you sigh as you look back at Luke. “Maybe in a few months.”

Luke’s mother calls his name and it’s obvious that your time is over. You hug each other and promise to meet up as soon as your responsibilities for the day are over, then go back to your respective duties.

Your tutor takes you inside because she doesn’t want anymore distractions, and you wave at each other like crazy as you’re walking back into the castle.

so yeah. you’re best friends and you have been since you first met as children, and though it is a battle for your betters to keep you on task if you’re near each other, you just light up when you see each other and it actually helps

You’re learning dining etiquette and if you get told that you’re using the wrong spoon again, you’re going to lose your mind.

luke is hurrying through the halls to catch up with his mother and you both catch a glimpse of each other.

your posture straightens, he stops in his tracks, and you both smile at each other. then luke’s mother calls his name again and he’s on his way again.

spoons aren’t that bad, you think

you’re mulling over history books in the library that make you want to fall asleep.

luke just happens to be walking past on the way to his chores, and when he spots you, he yells out your name and waves at you. you wave back, and you both stifle laughs as your tutor shushes you

suddenly, you’re not feeling so down.

Luke is training on his own out in the yard before dinner and he’s about ready to break his sword over his knee because he can not get this damned move right.

he hears your voice across the way and sees you, all dressed up and with your parents about to get into a carriage. you’re on your way to a ball, he remembers you telling him earlier, and he finds himself smiling.

You had been complaining about it, and Luke had told you to just think of the two of you hanging out whenever you were bored. You said you were already planning on it.

His smile widens. He’d be thinking of you too, wondering what it would be like for him to attend with you. Dressed in the same gaudy outfits as the rest of the court, having to go through the same dull niceties that you’d been raised on, listening to stories from other royals he couldn’t care less about.

Standing beside you as an equal.

Luke’s young, but he already doesn’t care for nobles and their court. But he thinks he would wear any amount of uncomfortable suits and listen to any number of dull proposals for you.

for the rest of the night, he trains better than he thinks he ever has.

and of course, you break the rules together. GOD HELP YOUR CHARGES YOU ALWAYS BREAK THE RULES TOGETHER

your tutor cannot count how many times you’ve slipped out of lessons and she’s found you in the halls talking with luke, him smiling brighter than she’s ever seen as he listens to you go on and on and on

your mother cannot count all the times you’ve talked about what you and luke did that day instead of describing to her any of the history or arithmetic you were supposed to be learning

May always keeps watch over her son, but she’s been known to turn a blind eye when Luke thinks he’s being sneaky to go off and see you.

and of course, sometimes you actually hang out when you’re allowed to hang out lol

you’ve run around every bit of the palace grounds together, you ride horses together (with parental supervision of course), and once you’re a bit older, you’re actually allowed to practice with luke and the rest of the knights!

typically, it’s a shorter session with May teaching the two of you, and typically, it ends with both of you ready to die because you’re just kids and even though Luke is a prodigy, you are sooooo bad at swordfighting. it’s honestly not even funny how bad you are at it the first couple of lessons

But May just pats you on the shoulder and promises to work with you until you’re as good as her.

(luke pouts and says he wants to be better than you. you forget that you’re holding a sword and just start complaining at each other)

(“you CAN’T be better than me luke I’m the princess”) (“YES I CAN MY MOM’S THE GREATEST KNIGHT EVER”) (“SHE PROTECTS MY DAD WHICH MEANS I CAN BE THE BEST EVER”) (“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE”) (“YES IT DOES”) (“NO IT DOESN’T”) (“I’M YOUR PRINCESS YES IT DOES”)

(the lesson ends when May has to pry you two apart)

but we haven’t gotten to the knight part.

because it’s a bit sad.

what happens to may in pjo canon is awful but

May Castellan dies when you and Luke are sixteen. A month after your birthday, in fact. Four months after Luke’s.

(he’s always held those three months over you, especially as you get older.)

(it doesn’t seem to matter as much now.)

rumor has it throughout the kingdom that she slowly went insane and then fully lost it, ultimately dying in an attack against the king during a ball that turned out to be a set-up.

the only one who knows what really happened that night is your father as he was the only other person there at her death that still lives, but he refuses to talk about it, only saying that “Head of the Kingsguard May Castellan died a hero and shall be remembered as such”.

Luke… does not take it well

besides the king, he obviously spent the most time with his mother and it was obvious to anyone that she loved him with all her heart and wanted him to follow whatever dreams he may have had

she’s given a knight’s funeral and you are beside Luke the entire time, holding his hand or him leaning against you as you listen to eulogies or even just sitting next to each other because your presence is enough for him. it doesn’t matter what—you’re always connected in some way, and no one says a single thing.

he needs you, and you need him. it’s as simple as that. and no one dares to correct the princess when she’s icier than they’ve ever seen her.

You put on that front to protect Luke—you don’t want anyone bothering him, and you don’t want him to have to worry about you at a time like this.

Because you know he would. He always does.

When Luke gives his speech, barely able to hold back tears, he looks at you the entire time. he doesn’t tell you, but you’re the only reason he’s able to get through the day.

Luke becomes a ward of the royal family.

There’s no chance you’re letting him leave, and Luke doesn’t want to go either. The memories of his mother all around are painful, but he takes some small comfort that she’ll live on in Aurelda forever.

Your parents have no objection to it—he grew up in the palace anyways, and he can practically provide for himself. You wouldn’t have let them say no.

You’re thankful beyond words that Luke is still here. Because everything feels like a mess, and things are a little more manageable with him by your side.

Someone tried to kill your father. They killed Luke’s mother instead. Both of you are broken in different ways.

Obviously, this sparks the beginnings of war both in Aurelda and in Luke’s entire being.

but that’s a topic for another day.

May’s death changes your relationship.

She was his mother, obviously, but you were close to her as well. you could never forget every time she ruffled your hair and complimented your sword fighting, or every time she would acknowledge you in the midst of a crowd with a smile and a nod, or every time she would act like a mother and not a knight.

she had the best hugs in the entire kingdom.

But her death changes your relationship because Luke changes.

He’s angrier. His edges have all sharpened, honed by his own spirit. He softens when he’s around you, but to the outside eye he’s impenetrable. He thinks you’re the only one that understands him.

Others pity him, fear him, are jealous of him.

You treat him the way you always have. Like your best friend.

That’s all he needs.

And so Luke throws himself into his training, vowing to become the youngest kingsguard in Aureldan history to honor his mother’s memory. He wasn’t able to save his mother, and he needs to become strong enough to protect the ones he loves from anything.

(You don’t know it, but he thinks of you every time he closes his eyes and sees the night his mother died. He’s in the place of his mother and you’re in your father’s position, and Luke knows that he would sacrifice himself for you every single time.)

So you don’t have as much time for each other anymore. Luke is on his kingsguard mission, and you’re starting to come into your own as the Crown Princess of Aurelda.

You can’t sneak out of lessons anymore to go talk with Luke, because you’re starting to learn about the nuances of politics.

Luke can’t let you interrupt his training, because he’s on a warpath and he won’t be stopped before he reaches his goal.

You can’t neglect your responsibilities because they’re more than just etiquette or history lessons. War is going to come to Aurelda sooner or later, and you’ve got to be ready when it does.

You’re only sixteen, but neither of you are children anymore.

But you’re still best friends. Nothing can change that—it’s just changed the way you show it.

You take your morning walks with your mother past the training grounds, and Luke always smiles at you and salutes no matter what. You bow your head in a very refined, princess-y nod, and you continue on.

Luke makes sure he’s always the one that gets to deliver news to you, even going so far as to make deals with other servants and messengers just to make sure he gets to see you at least once a day.

Most of the time, you end up seeing each other at night. Just happening to end up in the kitchens at the same time for a midnight snack that results in hours of talking with each other. Bringing Luke to your balcony to look at the stars together.

Even some midnight training has occurred together, though you always end up a sweaty mess and having to make a bath for yourself because you can’t alert your servants. Luke says he likes you best when you have that vicious glint in your eye while you’re training with him.

Luke still has horrific dreams, and though he weathered them on his own for a while, one night he finds himself outside your door. When you open it, seeing his haunted eyes and disheveled appearance, you let him in immediately.

It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same bed after nightmares, and you know it won’t be the last.

(You spent the whole week together after his mother’s death. Not even your parents could complain when they saw the change in both of you.)

And Luke does it. He completes his training, having become one of the fiercest and youngest warriors Aurelda has ever seen. Traditionally, knights are older, but an exception was made for Luke—he’s got the Castellan name and a childhood spent with the greatest knights in the kingdom to back him up.

You’re the first person he tells when he finds out, and your scream of pure joy must have echoed throughout the entire castle. You hug him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, and for just a moment, in your embrace, he feels like you’re both kids again.

Weeks from his eighteenth birthday, your father knights Luke Castellan in an official ceremony.

Not just as a member of the kingsguard, though—he is sworn in as a knight, and as your personal bodyguard.

Your father didn’t tell you beforehand, and you thank a childhood of courtly influence to keep the shock off your face. One hand tightens ever so slightly into a fist, and you let it out just as quickly.

You can’t see Luke’s expression, kneeling and head turned downward. You would pay all the gold in the kingdom to know what he was thinking.

“Sir Luke Castellan.” Your father’s voice booms through the hall, and a shiver even goes down your spine. “Do you swear to serve Aurelda as her loyal knight, through war and peace, through riches and debt?”

“I do,” Luke says.

“Do you swear to protect the Crown Princess of Aurelda—” your father says your entire title, and for the fifth time you wonder how many middle names a princess needs, “—my daughter—with everything you have in you, until your dying breath?”

Your breathing stills for the slightest moment.

Luke doesn’t flinch. “I do.”

The thought of Luke dying for you is unimaginable. It’s something you’d never ask of him—you don’t think you could live in a world without him anyways. You know it’s what knights are expected to do—for king and country, my life for yours—but that’s for any member of the royal family—any member of the court.

Luke is assigned solely to your protection.

And he doesn’t even falter when he bonds his life to yours.

As soon as the ceremony is over and Aurelda has gained three new knights, you’re on your way to Luke. You don’t care if anyone else wants to talk with the princess, you don’t care if your parents need to tell you something—royal propriety be damned, you need to talk to Luke.

He doesn’t look surprised when you march up to him, but there’s already a different air about him.

Maybe it’s because in these past couple of years he’s absolutely shot up in height, maybe it’s because his insane training regimen has toned every part of him, maybe it’s because he’s done what no one else has done before, or maybe it’s just because he actually accomplished his goal.

But when he smiles at you, that crooked slant to his lips that always meant mischief when you were younger, it’s enough to make that train of thought immediately shut down.

“Princess,” he greets. “I think we’re going to be spending a lot more time together, these days.”

“Yeah,” you say, the warpath you’d intended to be on fading away almost immediately with his words (and that goddamned smile that will certainly be the death of you someday.) “Maybe this is our way to make up on all that lost time.”

“...I’d like that,” Luke says.

“Can I hug you?” you ask wryly. “Or is that unbecoming of a brand new knight?”

“I don’t think anyone will tell the princess she is doing something wrong,” Luke says.

So you do. You hug him, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you hate that you had any doubt that he would. You’ve always felt safe in his embrace even since you were children, and now that he’s four times as strong and much taller, you feel it more than ever.

He truly does look the part of a perfect knight. You remember the days of wooden sword fights and afternoons by the lake, wondering what your future awaited, but sure you would be together no matter what.

You feel like you’ve aged a century since then.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you say as you pull away. “You’re incredible. I mean— you always have been, but this… It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. So I’m proud of you.”

Luke brushes his curls out of his face with a gauntleted hand, his smile turning a bit more genuine. “It means the world, princess. You are… one of the main reasons that I even made it up here. So I have you to thank.”

You feel your cheeks heat. “I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve been you,” he refutes. “You’ve stood by my side through everything, and you’ve always been there when I need you no matter what. You’ve done everything.”

You’re thankful for the sheer sleeves of your gown, because now your entire body feels warm. And maybe that’s why you practically blurt the question out, but it’s been burning in your mind since the moment it happened.

“Did you know?”

He frowns. “Know what?”

“That you would become my personal guard,” you said. “You’ve wanted to be a part of the kingsguard since you were a child, and now…”

“Princess,” Luke says, “I asked your father for the honor.”

That throws you off. “What?”

“Do you think he would entrust your wellbeing to just anyone?” he asks. “It’s part of the reason I’ve been training so hard—I wanted to prove to him that I was worthy of the position.”

“Luke—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“War is coming to Aurelda whether we like it or not,” he says. “All I want is for you to be safe. This way, I can ensure it.”

“You said you would die for me,” you say. “You vowed it.”

“That is generally how knighthood works, yes—”

“Luke,” you interrupt forcefully. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

“The goal is for nobody to die,” he says wryly.

You cross your arms. “You know what I mean.”

“Your safety is my number one concern, princess,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.”

You stare at him. He stares back.

You win, because Luke sighs and shakes his head. “We don’t have to worry about that at the moment. Right now, you have to get back to change before you sit in on an advisor’s meeting with the king and queen.”

You frown. “How do you know?”

“I’m your guard,” Luke says. “It’s my job to know.”

“You were just sworn in!” you protest.

“And I am always prepared,” he remarks. Luke holds his hand out in a gesture towards the door. “After you, princess.”

You shake your head as you start walking. You hear Luke’s footsteps start soon after, much heavier than yours in full armor as opposed to your ceremonial dress. “You are ridiculous.”

“Which is also my job,” Luke muses.

and so luke becomes a knight, but not just any knight.

your knight.

good luck handling that crush on him you've harbored since childhood now.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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nycreid · 2 months

Text

Lover

spencer reid x popstar!reader

H/T means hometown

part 1

SPENCER IS STANDING IN THE VIP TENT next to many celebrities but as Y/N knows them, her best friends, Lily Rose-Depp, Gigi Hadid, and more. Spencer feels out of place, this isn’t his usual Saturday night, until he started dating Y/N. Spencer did get acquainted with her friends, they’re easy to talk to, this just isn’t his scene.

Spencer is dressed in concert merch, a pastel pink hoodie that reads ‘THE DAYLIGHTS TOUR’ and a pair of black trousers, again, something he usually doesn’t wear but for Y/N he would wear a garbage bag if it meant it would support her.

As Spencer waits for Y/N to come out and perform, he sees a fan trying to throw something into the tent. Spencer leans closer and sees it’s a bracelet- and it’s for him, he takes the colorful beaded bracelet from the girl and thanks her. The bracelet reads “KING OF HER HEART” in white beaded letters with pink and yellow beads surrounding them. Spencer smiles and blushes, knowing the bracelet is a reference to her song about him, “King Of My Heart” , Spencer slips on the bracelet proudly.

“Did you just get your first friendship bracelet?” A voice appeared next to him, it was Y/N’s mom. Her parents turned up to the concert as well, it was in her hometown, of course they weren’t going to miss it.

“Y-yeah I did.” Spencer nods nervously, he’s talked to her mom many times. Why is he so nervous?

“You’ll have a wrist full by the end of the night, it’s something you get used to.” Y/M/N chuckles and shows her wrist, she’s already accumulated at least 10 and the concert has barely started.

Spencer chuckles and hears cheers and screams before he can reply to Y/M/N and notices Y/N is rising onto the stage. The lights illuminate her glowing skin and make her eyes pop in the best way possible, the stage design doesn’t overpower her but make her stand out. Spencer is entranced and she’s barely been on stage for 30 seconds.

“WELCOME TO THE DAYLIGHT’S TOUR! It feels good to be back in my hometown!” Y/N giggles into the microphone, “To start off, I just want to say thank you for joining me today and taking time out of your day to attend.” Y/N smiles.

More cheers erupt as she speaks and you can see her grinning ear to ear, Spencer smiles as she speaks and is in love with how passionate she is about her music and her fans but he can’t help but feel hot and overstimulated by the humid weather and loud cheers.

“Now I have a question for you H/T, have you ever been in love?” Y/N alluding to her hit song, Lover (also written about Spencer). The backtrack to Lover starts playing and she brings out her guitar and the backup dancers and singers pool onto the stage.

Spencer blushes as her friends in the VIP tent tease Spencer and nudge him, ‘This is your song man!’, he even heard but he’s too out of it to notice someone said anything.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January and this is our place, we make the rules.” Y/N sings and strums on her guitar as she searches for a certain face in the crowd, before looking over in the VIP tent and seeing a familiar tall curly haired man. Y/N practically lightens up even more as she sees him, she maintains eye contact with him while singing his song. She’s basically singing it to him.

Spencer blushes as he keeps the eye contact, he feels his worries go away as she sings (basically to him). The fans singing along and the cheering tune out as he can only focus on her, he feels more calmer as he listens to her soothing voice. How did he get so lucky?

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand, I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.” Y/N sings and very obviously points to him and casually goes back to strumming as if she didn’t turn Spencer into a pink blushing mess.

“You’re as pink as your hoodie, aww!” Gigi giggles and snaps a picture for Y/N to show later, Spencer chuckles and feels his heart grow for Y/N by the minute.

The rest of the concert goes by with long flirty glances by her, more eye contact, and Spencer recording half of it to put in his Y/N 💝 photo album. The concert finally ends and Spencer’s wrist has gained 15 brackets on each wrist and 20 more in the tote bag he brought for Y/N with her ‘after concert essentials’.

As the fans depart from the stadium, Spencer, her parents, and her closest friends go backstage to see her. Y/N runs backstage, not even taking out her microphone and earpiece, immediately running into Spencer’s arms.

“I missed you! Sorry, I’m kinda sweaty right now.” Y/N mutters into his chest with her arms wrapped tightly around him.

“It’s okay, honey. You were amazing up there! You took my breath away.” Spencer kisses the top of her head and rubs his hands on her back. Spencer is a germaphobe but he doesn’t pull away from her, he doesn’t mind her germs.

Her parents and her friends pull up in a golf cart later and she converses with them and pulls them into hugs as well.

“I think it’s time to call it a night!” Y/N sighs and says her goodbyes to her friends and parents. “See you guys tomorrow!” She’s performing one more day in her hometown.

“Ready to go?” Y/N takes her hand in Spencer’s, and he nods.

—

IN HER HOTEL SUITE, Spencer and Y/N are comfortably cuddling in bed after a fresh shower together and in pajamas and are on twitter looking over the videos after today. Y/N would be staying at her parents house since she’s in her hometown but her team suggested a hotel room so transport and makeup is faster and easier.

Y/N giggles, “Wait look at that tweet!” She clicks on it. The tweet reads ‘he is DOWN BAD but like i would be too…’ followed by a video of Spencer watching Y/N perform with a lovestruck smile.

Spencer chuckles a little embarrassed, “Like this is new news? Everybody knows I’m in love with you, Y/N L/N.” Spencer pecks a kiss onto your forehead.

Y/N blushes and playfully swats him away, “Oh stop it.” She bites her lip, trying to hide that painfully obvious smile.

“No matter how hard you try to hard your smile, your pink cheeks sell you out.” Spencer lightly pinches her cheek and laughs.

Spencer noticed Y/N rubbing the King Of Her Heart bracelet he got, “I promise to be delicate with your heart for as long as I live.” Y/N smiles and brushes a kiss against his cheek, “I know.” She says with certainty.

—

lmk what you guys think!! pls tell me other songs popstar!reader would make if u guys are getting tired of the taylor swift songs + references! and don’t be afraid to send asks 😉😜 AND TYSM FOR SO MUCH LOVE ON THE LAST POPSTAR!READER FIC

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic recs #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x popstar!reader #Spotify

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pocketsizedq · 6 months

Text

I will be okay Honey

Request can you do one with jack wife's being pregnant and has been getting really bad morning sickness lately but jack has to leave for a roadie

Warning (s) mentions of throwing up

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Jack started to pack a bag for the roadie he was about to have to go on for a game that wasn't at the Prudential Center and was nearly two hours from your guys new brunswick cottage home.

Jack decided on living in new brunswick instead of newark as he felt it was safe for you and him, but that meant he would always have to leave early to get to even a home game.

Jack started to regret his decision on living farther from newark. You had been just diagnosed with a rare severe type of morning sickness called Hyperemesis Gravidarum.

He now didn't want to leave you alone knowing this now as he has seen what it has been doing to you, but he knew that you would be mad at him if he stayed with you.

Jack made his way back into the bedroom from the walk in closet seeing you all pale in the face with dark rings around your eyes but you still had a soft small on your face.

He made his way over to the bed where you sat trying to hide the worry in his face knowing it would only hurt you more. Jack didn't like to see you like this.

He felt his heart rip to pieces every time he would hear you get sick in the middle of the night or mid day.

Jack started to rub your back gently leaning down to kiss your forehead to which you close your eyes taking a deep breath in leaning against him.

You throughout your pregnancy have just been continuously throwing up and just haven’t been able to keep anything down but you knew that in the end you and Jack would have a beautiful baby girl so that’s what kept you going.

Jack has been your rock through it all even with him being gone most of the time he still tries his best to be by your side constantly checking up on you when he’s at practice when he’s not. Luke probably even checking up on you.

“Will you be okay with me not being here” Jack spoke softly rubbing your back looking down at you.

You nod saying tiredly “probably be sleeping most of the time or watching you be a star on the the tv”

Jack softly chuckled continuously rubbing your back then moves his hand to check his watch to see what time it was and he lets out a soft sigh.

“I gotta get going honey but I will be home tomorrow. My mom is downstairs she’s here to stay with you while I’m gone to make sure nothing bad happens while I’m gone”

Jack kisses your lips grabbing his bags going downstairs where the queen herself was just looking through some of the boxes you and Jack had gotten around to putting up do to you being pregnant and everything.

“Mom you know you don’t have to do that right? I can do that when I get back? And thank you again for flying in to keep an eye on y/n I’m just so worry about her and the baby ” Jack spoke to his Mom to which she just pulled him into a hug.

“Just because your grown doesn’t mean I stop taking care of you and she’s family now sweetie I know your worried about her but she’s a strong girl and that baby has a lot of fight in her you being her’s father” Ellen spoke to her second oldest son holding him close to her.

“Now go beat the crap out of the rangers” his mom jokes to him wiping his tears as she pats his back as he walks out the door to his car.

#nhl x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n

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headkiss · 4 months

Text

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

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fraldarrius · 2 years

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i have to work early tomorrow but i can’t fucking sleep bc my psycho brother broke up with his girlfriend and now i am worried something bad is going to happen tonight/in the near future 🫠

#she’s leaving tomorrow so hopefully tonight will be ok #unless he decides to go on a killing spree of course : )#i wish i was joking but i’m actually kinda worried lmao #he’s fucking crazy #none of us speak to him despite living in the same house as him #bc he’s such an insufferable piece of shit #who’s literally attacked all of us at least once at one point #i hate him i want him to fucking leave but he refuses to get a job and therefore has no income #he just sits in his room in the basement all day every day reading shit conspiracy theories bc he believes all that shit #like his gf literally paid for everything for him so like. good luck eating from now on dickhead #he also doesn’t have a car bc it’s her car so he’ll be trapped here which makes things worse #he’s already picking a fight with my dad bc he wrote nasty shit about him in chalk in our backyard #yes a 36 year old man wrote mean things about his father in chalk. i wish i was joking #i just want him out of our lives so fucking badly i wish my dad would kick him out #but my mom won’t allow it bc she feels some stupid fucking duty to protect him from that despite everything he’s done to her and us #literally makes me want to rip my fucking hair out #anyway living here is about to get a lot more insufferable and probably also dangerous 🤪 so excited 🤪#i just want to fuckin sleep y’all #i don’t want to think about any of this #shush sar

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danikamariewrites · 6 months

Note

can i please request request something really fluffy with the acotar men where reader calls them baby or something sweet, and it’s their first time hearing it bc they’re used to be called bastard or something horrible so they’re in shock and just melt and maybe get teary-eyed, reader just hugs them and praises them more😭🖤

Calling them Baby headcanon

A/n: half of them would cry Ik it

Rhysand

I think Rhys’s mom called him a lot of sweet names when she was alive and after he lost her he lost that affection

When you call him baby you just needed his attention to ask him a question. You were sitting in his office with him when you realized you two don’t have dinner plans

“Rhys. Hey Rhysie. Rhysaaanndd.” He was clearly wrapped up in work but he seemed to raise his head to listen to you

“Baby,” you cooed and he immediately stopped. Rhys looked up at you, his violet eyes bright and wide

“Yes my darling?” He gets up from his desk to join you on the couch. Sitting down he holds your hands, pulling them into his lap, never taking his eyes off you

“Should we go out to dinner tonight?” You ask with a smile. He nods excitedly, “Yes, absolutely. Wherever you want.” He gives your lips a quick kiss and pulls you on to his lap hugging you tightly

“Rhys, are you ok?” He buries his face into your neck breathing in your scent, nodding lightly. “I’m perfect darling.”

Cassian

He had lovers that called him stupid shortened versions of his name but nothing with love behind it like you did. And he was never shown love by an adult figure in his life at the camps so this would just make him want to hold you to give you that love back

Cassian was frustrated when you found. He was rummaging through drawers in his office murmuring to himself about something he misplaced

You just wanted to help him so you silently started looking around his office for the lost paper

When you finally found it you were so happy bc Cass could stop worrying

“Baby, I found it!” You held up the paper with a giant smile on your face and Cassian froze, staring at you with his lips slightly parted

“Wh-what?” His voice barley above a whisper. “The paper you were trying to find. I found it for you.” You walked over, holding it out to him

At this point Cassian didn’t even care about the report he was just staring at you

Cassian gently held your shoulders and pulled you into his chest for a long hug

Azriel

Azriel never knew affection similar to Cass. His family was just awful and then going to Windhaven wasn’t great but having that brotherly love was nice. And Rhys’s mom was like a mother to him but he wanted more

He always craved the love Rhys and Cass found and now he has it with you. You always made sure to show Azriel he is loved, at times he feels like he doesn’t deserve you

The two of you were in bed one morning just enjoying each other before you had to get up

You placed a kiss on his forehead and played with his short black hair, “I think we need to get up baby.”

A stupid love sick smile took over his features. You had never seen him like this, so free and vulnerable

“Ok, just five more minutes.” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your lips

From that morning on every time you’d call Az baby or some other endearing nickname he’d give you that same gentle kiss

Lucien

Lucien was always competing for attention but never saw the point. I think even with Tamlin their friendship took a long time to get to a point where Lucien wasn’t competing for his attention with others

With you it was different, you gave him all of your attention from day one and he basked in it

Today was a bad day for him and he just wanted to be around you

He was holding a lot of his feelings in and was on the brink of letting them out even though he didn’t want to. He knew you’d help him calm down

Lucien found you in the library and curled into your side, resting his head on your chest as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair

“Everything is going to be ok baby. Tomorrow will be better.” Lucien started blinking back tears at the nickname

He gripped you a little tighter and whispered, “Thank you.” As he let his tears fall, feeling safe with you

Eris

Eris, like Rhys, only had affection from his mom but his stopped once things with Beron took a turn for the worst

When you came along it took Eris a while to trust you and feel comfortable around you

You were passing each other in the hall, Eris was coming back from morning training and you were headed to breakfast

You two stopped to quickly kiss and promise to catch up later

“Bye baby, have a good day.” Eris froze as you walked away. Before he could say anything you disappeared around the corner

It was hours before he saw you again and the whole day he couldn’t stop thinking about you

Eris joined you for dinner early that night. When he saw you he scooped you up in his arms spinning around

“Hi baby. I missed you today.” You said, giggling as Eris put you down

Eris looked at you like you were the only person in the world as he rested his forehead against yours, “I love that. That you give me little nicknames. Please never stop.” “Never.” You whispered back

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bedsyandco · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍

🫧 — {fem!reader x jack hughes}

🫧 — pt. 2 of two more months! where reader is Jack's wife and she gives birth!

🫧 — content: complications during birth. talk of death.

🫧 — wc: 3.2k

You were sitting sideways on Jack’s lap in the lake house living room, while he was rubbing his hands up and down your swollen belly.

“What are we eating tonight?” Quinn asks, from the other couch.

“Chicken nuggets?” you ask, looking up at Jack and he smiles down at you.

"Whatever you want,” he whispers, kissing your temple, and Luke groans from his seat next to Quinn.

"You guys are so mushy.” he teases and you stick your tongue out at him.

"You're just jealous." you say with a smile and Luke grins back.

He was a little jealous. He’s had a front row seat to your and Jack’s love from the moment you met, when you got married, up until now when you’re having a baby.

It’s like you guys fall more and more in love every day. Luke feels fortunate that he gets to witness that as often as he does. He can only hope to one day find something similar. Until then though, he is more than happy to tease you about it.

The guys honestly couldn’t eat any more chicken nuggets. It’s all that you’ve been eating for weeks. They even started calling the baby a little nugget because of it.

“Chicken nuggets…again?” Quinn asks

“Yeah,” you agree, shifting to the side and groaning a little as pain shoots up your back all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks

“I got a pain.”

“A pain?” Jack asks, face full of alarm as he watches you. “What kind of pain?”

When you feel another pain shoot up your back, you cry out a little and grip Jack’s hand and sucking in a breath. “Pain, pain.”

“Like baby pain?” Quinn asks, his eyes wide in concern.

“I don’t know,” you say, shifting side to side, hoping it would lessen the burn in your back. It couldn’t be time. You weren’t ready. “It hurts.”

“Do we need to go in? Quinn, grab her bag!” Jack says but you don’t move, leaning into him more as your back tenses up. It hurt, badly, but it was probably just braxton-hicks, you had those before. Though, this time felt more intense and that kind of worried you.

“I don’t know. Wait. It’s not time. I’ve got like three more weeks.” you hiss out a breath.

“Maybe we should call my mom…I doubt she’s far” Jack says and you shake your head.

“No, I’m okay-” but before you could even finish your sentence, fluid rushed out of you, wetting your thighs and Jack’s lap in the process.

“Are you pissing on me?” Jack cries out.

“No. I think my water broke.”

“Oh fuck. Can you stand? Quinn! Get her bag. We gotta go.” Jack says frantically, gently moving you off his lap and onto the couch.

“Ew, you have baby juices all over you.” Luke says and Jack sends him a glare.

“Shut up, Luke! Let me change and we’ll leave. Is that okay…can you wait?” Jack asks, hand on your lower back rubbing soothing circles.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I wanna change too,” you say calmly as the pain lessens enough for you to stand, but Jack doesn’t move.

“Maybe you should stay here. You don’t wanna move too much right?”

“It’s fine.”

“Why are you so calm? You’re having a child!” Luke yells even more frantic than Jack.

“Yeah, this isn’t something to be calm about. You’re gonna go crazy over cuddles and chicken nuggets but not about actually giving birth?” Jack asks exasperatedly and you roll your eyes moving past him.

“Let’s get changed and go to the hospital.” you say calmly, believing you have more than enough time to do so.

You heard that births can take up to hours. So when you got to the hospital and in the bed for the Dr. to check you, both of you were very surprised when she said… “You’re already 6 inches. This is gonna be fast, hope you’re ready.”

You look at Jack, who stares back at you, equally panicked and you both laugh.

“We’re not ready!” he says, shaking his head. “I haven’t finished my book on how to be a good dad yet.”

“The house in Jersey isn’t near done.”

“Did you install the baby seat?”

“No, I thought you had.”

“God we’re a mess! I thought we had three more weeks,” Jack says laughing a little, face full of happiness but you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Well, it’s coming. Might want to call your family, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” the doctor says, taking off her gloves.

“I've already called mom and dad, they’re on their way.” Quinn says and Jack nods appreciatively.

“I’ll call Dylan and Neeks, tell them what’s going on.” Luke says and makes his way out of the room.

“Want me to call anyone else?” Quinn asks

“Trev and Cole,” Jack says and Quinn nods making his way out of the room as well.

Both your parents had died in a car crash when you were little. Your grandma raised you but she passed away a few years ago. You felt a brief moment of sadness, thinking about the fact that you didn’t have any family that was going to be here. But that wasn’t true. When you fell in love with Jack, his family automatically became your own. His parents were your parents. His brothers are your brothers. And you were about to start your own little family with him.

When it’s just the two of you alone in the room, Jack turns and looks back at you gently brushing your hair away from your face. Not saying anything and simply admiring you.

“We got this.” you say, looking at him, trying to reassure him.

He nods but it’s not confident at all, you could see it in his eyes. He was freaking out.

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna be fine.” you say, laying a kiss on the palm that was cupping your cheek.

“Never expected you to be so calm about this,” Jack says, a little amused.

“Right? Usually you’re the calm one.”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “But you’re right, we got this.”

Jack caresses your cheek slightly before tilting your head up and kissing you hard on the lips.

“You’re amazing and I love you so much.” he whispers against your lips and you tear up a bit.

“I love you too. Let’s do this.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain once it actually started up.

“I don’t think I can do this.” you say, gripping onto Jack’s hand so tightly he winces.

“Yes you can. You’re the strongest woman I know, baby. You can do anything.” Jack responds, pressing the washcloth along your forehead as Ellen comes rushing in.

“I’m so sorry. We were already home, and my phone was off. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay mom.” Jack reassures her.

“Everyone is in the waiting room. They wanted me to tell you they love you.” Ellen says taking the spot on your other side and holding the other hand.

“It hurts,” you cry

“I know, you’re doing great. Are you ready to meet our little baby?” Jack asks and you nod.

“All right. Next contraction, we’re doing this.” the Doctor says, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

“Okay,” you agree, letting out deep breaths.

“You got this, baby.” Jack says, laying his head against yours as the contraction hits and you push with everything you got.

After several more pushes, the cries of the baby finally filled the room.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor exclaims and you turn to see Jack with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

Ellen lets out a soft sob as the doctor places the baby on your chest.

She has Jack’s chin and nose. She looks just like him actually, but as she screamed in sheer frustration, you figured that was all you.

Still unable to speak, you just moved your finger along her little head as Jack cut the cord.

You lay a little kiss on her head. You felt a little dizzy and out of breath but you were pretty sure that was normal.

“What do you think? Eleanor or Rosie? You said you’d know when you saw them.” Jack asks eyes on his little girl. You did say that, but you couldn’t think right now. Closing your eyes, you suck in a deep breath but it feels like you can’t quite catch it.

“Jack-”

“Code blue, she’s crashing. She’s bleeding too much.”

Completely confused, Jack looks up from his perfect little girl to the doctor who was still between your legs.

“Clamps. And get them out of here.” the doctor says and when Jack looks up at you, he sees your head hanging to the side, eyes closed as the nurses hurry to get the baby off you.

“Baby! Are you okay?” he cries reaching for you, shaking you a bit but you weren’t moving. He wasn’t even sure if you were breathing and before he could check he was being ushered away.

Ellen calls out to you as well but someone grabs her as well, pushing both of them out of the room.

“Sir we need you to wait outside,” the nurse says but Jack rips his arm away, trying to go back in.

“No, I wanna know what’s going on with my wife!”

“She’s bleeding, and the doctor is doing everything that she can. You can’t be in there while she does that. Please just let us do our jobs.” she says and shuts the door in his face.

“It’s gonna be okay Jack.” Ellen says, her voice trembling as she embraces him.

“She needs me,” Jack argues

“It’s okay. Let them work on her.”

Seconds turned into minutes and still there was no word. You had to be okay. Jack couldn’t do this without you. People didn’t die during childbirth anymore…did they? He really should’ve finished that damn book. Closing his eyes, he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart and slow his breathing but it didn’t work.

The door finally opened, but it was only for a nurse to bring out his daughter. His daughter. Those two words should fill him with utmost joy but he couldn’t think about anything but you. Closing the short distance between him and the nurse who was pushing his daughter in a little bassinet, he stopped her.

“My wife, is she okay?”

“I don’t know sir. The doctor will be out in a moment.” the nurse says without making eye contact. “Would you like to come with your baby?”

“I need to know about my wife. Mom,” he says, turning to Ellen.

“I’ll go,” she says, walking away with the nurse.

Jack wasn’t sure if he made the right decision. Should he have gone with the baby? Is that what you would want? No. He needed to know you were okay first.

When the door opened again, he had to take a step back as a nurse came out, pulling your bed with her.

“Baby?” he gasps and swallows thickly when he sees the blood stained sheets. He’s never seen that much blood.

The nurses just wheel her past him as the doctor finally comes out.

“Is she going to be okay? Please just…tell me something.” he begs.

"I don't know yet. She lost a lot of blood and she won't stop bleeding. So we are taking her to the OR for a transfusion and to see if there is a tear in the uterus that's causing the bleeding. It could be a number of things, but I won't know which until I'm there."

“Is she gonna be okay?” he asks desperately

“Jack, I’m sorry but I can’t answer that.”

“Please, she’s everything to me. I need her.”

“I know. I’m going to do everything I can.” she says and runs down the hall, leaving Jack standing there, his mind going a mile a minute.

Taking a shuddering breath and swallowing hard, Jack covers his face and walks backwards into a wall, the hard surface giving him the support he needs. Jack couldn’t even really fathom what had just happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why was this happening?

“Jack?”

Lifting his head he sees Quinn and Luke racing towards him, Trevor on their heels.

“Mom texted from the nursery. Are you okay?”

Jack couldn’t even answer them. He couldn’t say the words out loud, as if not saying them would make them less true.

He just fell into Trevor and thankfully his friend caught him, wrapping his arms around him and holding Jack up as his cries filled the hall.

“They don’t know what’s wrong. She won’t stop bleeding.” he says against Trevor’s shoulder and he feels both his brother’s hands on his back.

“It’s okay, she’s gonna be okay. She’s the strongest woman I know. It’s okay, just breathe.” Trevor says, his own voice frantic as if he’s trying to convince himself.

“Where is she?” Quinn asks, and Jack shakes his head, backing away from Trevor as he sucks in a breath, not meeting their eyes as he says, “In the OR”

None of them said anything. They stood there awkwardly, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

“Cole is on his way,” Trevor says and all Jack can do is nod.

Jack could sense everyone's anxiety, including his own. There was only one word being repeated in his head. Please. Please don’t take her away. Please don’t let him lose the one person he loves the most after it took him this long to find her. Please don’t let his daughter grow up without her mom. Please. Jack didn’t really know who he was pleading to. God. Anyone who would listen really.

Finally, a nurse came up to them, her face filled with worry. “Mr.Hughes, there's a waiting room by the OR you can wait in.

“Do you have an update on my wife?”

“No, not yet. I’m sorry. Please follow me.” she says, looking away.

Together, the guys walked to the surgery waiting room and while Luke and Quinn sat with the rest of the family, Jack stood by the door with Trevor right beside him.

He had a perfect view of the door to the OR from where he was standing and he wasn’t moving until he knew you were okay.

Looking back to Trevor, Jack swallowed hard. Trevor wasn’t normally the serious type, but he looked as stricken as Jack felt.

Fighting against the sting in his eyes, Jack leaned his head against the door frame and said, “I have the most beautiful little girl.”

Trevor nods, his hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder. “I heard, congratulations man.”

“I didn’t go with her. Does that make me a bad dad?”

“No. It makes you a great dad because you’re protecting her mom.” and Jack nods, tears flooding his eyes. Neither of them say anything after that as they continue to wait. None of them were prepared to wait as long as they did.

“Should I go check on the baby? Do you think she’s okay?” Jack asks

“Mom said she’s fine. Healthy.” Quinn says

“She’s the cutest little thing. Obviously takes after her mom.” Cole says teasingly and Jack smiles.

“Obviously.” Jack agrees, his smile fading a little.

His head was aching and his heart was heavy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t gonna make it. Jack wanted to be optimistic but no one has said anything…and the longer he waited the less hopeful he felt. Was this what his life was going to look like without you? Forever seeing the negative in things…hopeless.

“She didn’t even get to name her. What should I do? I can’t name her. I suck at naming things.” Jack states frantically looking around the room.

“Dude, she’s gonna name her. Don’t worry.” Quinn says.

Jack slides down the door, sitting on his haunches, his face in his hands as he breathed in and out, thinking.

When Trevor came and stood next to him again, a hand on his back, Jack’s tears fell faster.

“I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Don’t think like that. She’s gonna be fine.” Trevor says, his eyes filled with the hope Jack was lacking.

“And if not?” Jack whispers

“Then we’ll raise her. As a family. I mean I’m not even half the person your wife is, none of us are but between all of us I’m guessing little nugget will turn out half decent.” Trevor says and Jack chuckles.

But a world without you, wasn’t a world where Jack wanted to be.

Swallowing hard, he looked up right as the door opened and the doctor walked out. He stood up quickly as the doctor walked towards him, letting out a long breath.

“Doc, please tell me she’s okay.” Jack begs.

“She’s stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and replace the blood, she’s going to be just fine.”

“Thank you.” Jack whispers, his voice trembling.

“Of course, I'm sorry I couldn’t give you more earlier, it happened very suddenly and my only priority was to save her.”

“And she’s gonna be okay?” Jack asks

"Yes, she'll heal fine. We'll monitor her once she's released for about the next month or so, but she should make a full recovery.”

“When can I see her?”

“She’s in recovery right now, she should be awake in the next hour or so. A nurse will take you to see her.” the doctor says and Jack thanks her again.

“You’re so pretty.” was the first thing you heard when you woke up. When your eyes finally adjusted to the lighting in the room you saw Jack standing next to your bed, looking down at the little bundle in his arms.

“Might even be prettier than your mama. Don’t tell her I said that” Jack whispers and you smile.

“I heard that,” you say, voice a little scratchy and Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours as he walks closer and gently lays the baby in your arms.

Jack felt his eyes tear up and his heart swell seeing his two girls.

“She’s perfect.” you whisper

“Just like you,” Jack says, his voice breaking and tears dripping onto your head as he kisses your temple.

“Don’t cry.” you say reaching up to wipe his tears.

“I thought you were-” Jack cuts himself off, not even wanting to think the thought.

“I’m okay. We’re all okay. I love you.” you say and Jack smiles down at you.

“I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

The day was far from perfect, it was three weeks too soon and it was filled with uncertainty and it wasn’t particularly a day that Jack wanted to remember, but it was the day that his Hope Eleanor Hughes was born and he spends every year thankful that he gets to try to replace the bad memories of that day with good ones.

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