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whatdoeseverybodywant · 11 days

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You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 21

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AIRIELLEJONES

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AirielleJones: Pretty Girl, Pretty Tempting 🖤

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uceyjucey: damn

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user: bring back the bob! (❤️ by author)

August 21st 2021 - Summerslam

Las Vegas, NV

“So you’re coming to the twins' party tonight?”

“Absolutely not.” Airielle immediately answered with an eye roll, as the two of them sat backstage watching Josh and Jon’s match against the Mysterio’s. “I will give Jon his gift tho, before my flight back to Pensacola.”

“What about Josh?”

“What about him?” Airielle responded back, glaring at Trinity, who had a smirk on her face.

“Sis, we got the plane tickets together.” Again, Airielle rolled her eyes.

“Well you and Jon can take Jayla and Jaden, since y’all now have two extra tickets.” Airielle said, pulling the envelope out of her bag and handing it to Trinity.

“Airielle come-on now..”

“Or You can give it to Josh and he can give the other ticket to Yara or whatever, I don’t care.” Trinity gave Airielle a look. “I do not care.” She said standing up from her seat.

“No” Trinity whined as Airielle started to walk away. “Don’t leave me!” Airielle stuck her tongue out and continued on her way. She was relieved to finally have the plane tickets out of her possession. They were causing way more anxiety than necessary.

She and Trinity had decided to plan their partners (at the time) birthday together and since Josh had shown his whole ass for her birthday she thought it was only right for her to do the same. Josh had mentioned how he wanted to go to Turks & Caicos. She had splurged on the best private villa for her and Josh to stay. Even though they were supposed to be with Trin & Jon the couples had their own private entry to the villa and would only have to see each other when they wanted to.

Airielle was so deep in her thought she didn’t see Angel Garza as he stood in front of her, trying to get her attention. She let out a “oof” as they collided.

“Mierda!” He said as he grabbed his arms to steady her so she wouldn’t topple over in her heels. “Are you okay?” He asked her and she nodded.

. “Yes I'm fine Angel. I should watch where I'm going.” She said and he laughed.

“You know princesa,” Angel started, as he pulled her closer to him. “I’ve seen movies like this.” She furrowed her eyebrows at him.

“Movies? What are you talking about?”

“Cómo se dice uh.. meet-cute.”

“A meet-cute?”

“Yeah, you know, boy and girl run into each other, girl falls in love boy- “

“Boy gets his ass whopped if he don’t get the fuck on.” Josh cut him off and he slid in between Angel and Airielle mean muggin’ the hell outta Angel.

“Oh my god” Airielle muttered, slapping her hand on her forehead.

“Get the fuck on.” Josh said again after Angel didn’t move. It was then Airielle noticed the camera crew that had their cameras trained on the three of them and she cursed. She forgot the Total Divas crew were following the cast around today.

“Josh, stop.” She whispered, gripping the back of his shirt when he went to advance towards Angel. “It’s cameras filming you.” Angel smirked at Josh, waived at Airielle and continued on his way.

“Wassup man? I’ve been calling you for days.” Airielle rolled her eyes.

“We have nothing to talk about.” She stated, crossing her arms over her chest and cutting her eyes over to the camera crew, who were still recording them.

“You said you weren’t mad at me.” Josh said, as he stepped in front of her when she tried to walk around him.

“Yeah, well I lied, Joshua. I’m pissed off and I just want to be left alone.”

“So why didn’t you answer the phone so we could talk about it Airielle? Oh my god She thought as she looked over to the camera crew again, knowing they were definitely going to use this footage.

“Because there is nothing to talk about.” She huffed out.

“Us. We can talk about us.”

“There is no us anymore Joshua.” He scoffed.

“And whose fault is that? We were rocking strong Rih. I ask you to move in with me and you do a whole 360. Probably could’ve been engaged by now and shit.”

“That's the problem.” She hissed, pushing him away from her. “You wanna move way to fuckin fast Josh. 5 months and you wanted to move in together! Is that not crazy as hell?”

“You so damn selfish,” He stated. “It’s always about how you feel or what you think. What about me? Do you have any idea of how much it hurt me to see you with Raymond and then to catch you kissing him after you said y’all weren't together.”

Airielle felt like shit now. Even though she shouldn’t because she left Raymond alone until she saw Josh with Yara.

“Yo, y’all good?” Josh and Airielle broke their staring contest to look over at Jon and Trin who had just walked up on them.

“I have to go.” Airielle muttered as she walked away from them, Josh tried to follow her but Jon stopped him.

“She always running.” She heard Josh tell Jon and Trin before she ducked into an empty room in the arena. She let out a shaky breath and leaded against the door. She knew she had fucked up by kissing Raymond but Josh had done the unthinkable…the unforgivable by sleeping with Yara.

Trinity 💚: pleaseeeeeeeee Trinity 💚: im begging on my hands and knees here! To Trinity 💚: lemme see.

Airielle let out a laugh as her phone started ringing with a facetime call. She answered and started laughing harder at what she saw.

Jon and Trinity had their cheeks pressed together and they both were pouting at the phone. “Please” They both begged at the same time.

“I don’t wanna be the only bad bitch here ,Airielle.” Airielle let out a giggle and rolled her eyes.

“Look at how you got my lil bro’” Jon said as he snatched the phone out of Trin’s hands and flipped the camera to show a dejected looking Josh. “Lil Uce keep looking towards the door to see if you comin’” Airielle couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip as she took him in. He was looking real good, she almost got up to put some clothes on - NO! Her inner voice yelled at her. He had sex with Yara, fuck him!

“He could be looking for Yara.” Airielle mumbled, and she heard Jon suck his teeth before he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Sis be forreal.” Jon slurred. “Yara is here and before you say anything, Uce ain’t paying her no mind. I mean zero.” She let out another laugh when Trinity held up the hand gesture for zero behind Jon’s head. “So getcho’ ass down here and come cheer my brother up!”

“ No you did not!” She heard Jon yell out as she walked into their section. She watched Josh do a double take, his jaw dropping open as he took in her outfit.

“Happy Birthday!” Airielle said as she handed Jon a gift bag. Josh looked like he expected a gift too, but when she walked past him and towards Trinity and Mercedes, he sunk back down into his seat.

“Yay!” Trinity and Mercedes cheered, pulling Airielle into a hug. “Girl you look hot as hell!”

“I said cheer him up, not give him a heart attack.” Jon giggled.

“Y’all drunk as hell, lemme catch up!” Jon yelled out drink orders and Airielle made her way to the bar to order them.

“First of all, do you see what she’s wearing?” Josh heard Yara ask but like Jon said, he was paying her no mind. “Her whole ass is out!” Josh gritted his teeth as he watched Airielle lean on the bar top to point at something and he stood up, ignoring Yara calling his name and marched over to Airielle.

“Damn,” Her whistled lowly as he walked closer to her, no shame in his game as he eyed her body. “You look good.” He whispered into her ear as he boxed her in between the bar and his body, while he flagged down the bartender for her. “You know it’s my birthday too. Where my present at?”

Airielle snorted but didn’t turn around to face him. “Don’t you got a girlfriend to go be with or something. Why you over here bothering me?” She thanked the bartender but before she could grab the tray of drinks, Josh grabbed it and with his other hand he laced his fingers with hers, leading her back over to the section.

Yara watched with narrowed eyes as Josh sat down next to Airielle. He had been ignoring her all night and Yara was about to put a stop to it. Josh was her man now.

“Joshy, come on, let's dance.” Airielle snorted and choked on her drink at Yara’s nickname for Josh. She cut her eyes over at Josh who had his eyes closed and was shaking his head. That’s exactly what he gets. Airielle thought just as Thot Shit by Megan Thee Stallion started blasting through the club.

“This my jam y’all!” Trinity yelled, grabbing Airielle and Mercedes hands and pulling them towards the dance floor. Josh was in a trance as he watched Airielle out on the dance floor. Mesmerized by the way she moved her body to the beat. He had to get his girl back ASAP.

Four songs and three more shots later Airielle pulled herself away from the dancefloor to rush towards the bathroom. As she was coming out she bumped into Josh who was obviously waiting for her as he leaned against the wall.

“Where ya little girlfriend at?” She asked, looking around. He chuckled and walked closer to her.

“I’m looking at her.” Airielle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You wore this for me?” He asked as he dragged his eyes, slowing up her body.

“Josh please.” She said as she rolled her eyes again and tried to walk around him but he stepped in front of her, and started to slowly back her into the wall. He slowly leaned into her and watched how she let out a gasp at how close he was getting.

Before she could say anything, their lips connected. She felt him moan into her mouth and she tilted her head to be able to kiss him back. his hands now gripping her hips while her arms wrapped around his neck. His tongue exploring the inside of her mouth. He broke the kiss and slid his hands to rest just above her ass. He rested his forehead against hers

“I’m sorry alright, I was hurt and angry and I should've never took it there with Yara. I don’t want us to be like this anymore. I want you. Only you.”

Authors Note: Sorry this took so long. I wanted it to be perfect for yall. 🫶🏽 Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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longlivesteddie · 1 year

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soulmates au where you start seeing color if you lock your eyes with your soulmate, rockstar!eddiesoulmates au where you start seeing color if you lock your eyes with your soulmate, rockstar!eddie

I need Steve to love Corroded Coffin so much he goes to their concerts every time they are in Indianapolis. This time is different. This time he manages to push through the crowd until he's almost next to the stage. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Because if he stayed behind like all the previous times, there would be no chance for Eddie – the singer – to look him in the eye. The world would not start coloring itself. The singing would not stop mid-song. And Steve would not have to run away like a kid.

Eddie deserves someone better. Someone less damaged, someone less needy and clingy. Steve’s so wrapped up in his own head in the train on his way home. He’s obsessively refreshing the corroded coffin tag on twitter, but it looks like the concert continued after.

And then for two months, there's nothing. No news, no concerts, no paparazzi photos. And then suddenly a new mini album. It’s under Eddie’s name titled: to my soulmate.

Steve manages to not listen to it for the whole 20 minutes. It’s just 4 songs. And they are all beautiful, all heart breaking.

The first one starts with Eddie saying: “This is for you, sweetheart.”

One of them talks about Steve’s face and the color of his eyes and Steve’s sure that Eddie couldn't see it from the stage with all the lights around them. Does that mean that he went through footage from the concert trying to find a glimpse of him? Could he check the names on all the tickets he sold? Did he try to search for him online? Did he go through the endless follower list on his instagram account, hoping he’s gonna find Steve?

Another one talks about how Eddie understands if he’s not enough for his soulmate. And Steve’s whole chest hurts so bad as he sobs through it. Eddie is more than enough, Eddie’s perfect.

The last one is a love song. Love at first sight. It’s about everything Eddie accepted to feel if he ever found his soulmate, it’s about how wrong he was, because the words can’t describe the overwhelming love he felt the moment they looked at each other. When the song ends, Steve can hear Eddie breathing: “If you want to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting where we met. Friday, 7 o’clock.”

And then it’s quiet.

Steve’s determined not to go anywhere. He has 5 days until it’s Friday. And then it’s gonna be over. Then, Eddie can find someone else. Someone better.

On Friday, he finally confesses to Robin. If she could reach through her phone, Steve’s sure she’d pull him by his ears and kick him towards Indianapolis. He tells her all his worries, all his reasons to not go to the club. He tells her that Eddie would not want him anyway. Who would want someone like him?

“Don’t you think he should make that decision himself?“ She asks and she’s right.

The last train leaves in less than an hour and Steve barely makes it. Shaking like a leaf he sits next to a window and tries to calm himself down. He managed to take a shower before, fix his hair and put on a Corroded Coffin hoodie. He’s gonna be 20 minutes late. And he hopes, he prays that Eddie will wait a bit longer.

When the bouncer finally lets him in, Steve runs down to the stage. It’s way past 7.30. He’s not sure where Eddie could be. There’s no band playing tonight. The club is half empty so it’s not that hard to check every table.

Eddie’s not here anymore.

Tears sting his eyes. He squeezes his nose. And goes towards the bar to ask for rum and coke. He chugs half of the glass on his way towards an empty table. He writes Robin a quick message.

After he finishes his drink, he’s gonna find a place to spend the night, because there are no more trains going back to Hawkins.

Robin replies back almost instantly: “check his insta stories.”

But before Steve’s able to do that, there’s someone standing in front of him

“Hey.”

When he looks up, he’s lost for words. Because that’s definitely Eddie. Eddie, who looks so put together. A proper contrast to Steve’s red face from running and his puffy eyes from tears that haven’t fallen yet. It takes him a solid 5 seconds to say something back.

“Hi.”

Eddie gestures at him, smiling, like he can’t believe this is happening. Then he scratches his head and says: “I didn’t think this through.”

Steve starts laughing at the absurdity of it all and then he hears Eddie joining him.

“I’m Steve,” he finally introduces himself a minute later. He extends his hand.

“Steve, hi. I’m Eddie, but you probably already know that.” Eddie’s hand is warm and his handshake is firm. And he doesn’t let go afterwards.

“I’ve heard your songs... But you probably already know that too, since I’m here at all.”

“Did you – did you like them?” Eddie looks at him like it really matters. Like Steve’s opinion is important.

“I love them,” Steve exhales. “I’m sorry.”

Once he starts apologising he can’t stop.

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I didn’t. I thought you deserved so much better than me.”

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie says he grabs Steve’s chin and makes him look up. Eddie’s eyes are the prettiest shade of brown and Steve’s so grateful. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here,” Steve repeats. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Less than a month later, there’s another mini album. Another 4 songs, but this time, they're all happy. And maybe the last one is Steve singing for Eddie.

#steddie #soulmate au #soulmates #this was supposed to be three lines wtf #revised: 08/01/2023 #so many typos and grammar mistakes oh my god what was i doing #mine

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kaiijo · 9 months

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SUGARY SWEET — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader content: pining, confessions, mentions of eating notes: highly unedited, this has been in my drafts for ages so

you really couldn’t understand why gojo was staring at you (well, is it staring when he wears his blindfold?), slack-jawed and obviously scandalized. “what?” you ask him. “all i said was that i never really had sweets growing up.”

it’s true; you grew up in one of the lesser clans, one that bowed to the whims of the great zen’in, kamo, and — of course — gojo clans. your parents had been pretty strict about what you did, including what you ate, with your mother always going on and on about how the artificial sugars were unhealthy and would rot your teeth so most of your desserts consisted of fruits in season. you didn’t really mind, but gojo’s making you think that you’re mildly insane for that.

“so you’ve never tried raindrop cake?”

“no.”

“taiyaki?”

“no.”

gojo pauses and takes a deep breath. “what about mochi?”

“nope,” you say with a shrug. “i’ve already told you, gojo, i wasn’t allowed to eat sweets. my mother always said it would have messed with my cursed technique or something like that.”

gojo frowns. “well, that’s just bullshit. clear your schedule, we’ve got a field trip!”

you reply, “we have classes to teach.”

in an instant, gojo whips out his phone and taps out a message with lightning-fast fingers. when he ceremoniously thumbs at the screen one last time, he flips his phone around to show you a text blast he sent to all your students.

YOUR FAVORITE SENSEI [8:23 AM]: classes canceled today! don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!

you give him an unimpressed look and say, “yaga’s never going to let that fly.”

gojo leans closer with a conspiratorial smirk. at this distance, you can smell the mint gum he had been chewing earlier on his breath. he lifts his blindfold off with one finger, showcasing those bright blue eyes and says, “who said anything about telling him?” gojo grins when you feel your cheeks start to heat and continues, “change into something cute and meet me at the front gates!”

with a pat on the head, he turned on his heel and went whistling out of the school building. you obey gojo’s instructions, changing out of your sorcerer’s uniform and into something more casual. gojo’s already at the gates when you arrive, leaning against the structure. he swapped his blindfold for his signature black sunglasses, the frames sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks you up and down.

you feel suddenly self-conscious as you surreptitiously glance down at your clothes. “something wrong with my outfit?”

he shakes his head. “no, no. i just don’t think i’ve ever seen you out of your uniform.”

“ah.”

he straightens up and bows in a grand gesture. “onwards to the city!”

you walk past him and towards the train station that would take you to tokyo’s metro area. as you trudge ahead, you completely miss the redness to gojo’s ears and the extra bounce in his step.

you buy your tickets at the station and when you board, gojo sits across from you, long legs bumping into yours as he stretches. you swat them away and ask, “couldn’t you have just teleported us to tokyo? why’re we on the train?”

gojo replies, “what’s the fun in that? it’s the journey, not the destination. besides, train travel’s romantic, don’t you think?” he looks over his frames at you and you try to calm your quickening heart.

the train pulls into tokyo metro station and gojo practically drags you out, weaving through the tourists and tired salarymen (“hey,” he says, pointing at one that looks particularly fed up, “doesn’t that guy look like nanamin?”) until you reach a storefront that’s a pale, bubblegum pink. the chalkboard outside has a cutely drawn manga cat girl and boasts “japan’s best treats!” in bubble letters.

gojo throws the door open and stands in front of the hostess. you definitely don’t miss the way her eyes light up, practically vibrating with excitement as she eyes him unabashedly. something sour courses through your body as she chirps, “haven’t seen you here in a while, sir.”

you make a face. sir? gojo offers her a charming smile, tilting his head and letting his sunglasses slip down his nose again. “i’ve been busy,” he says, throwing an arm around your shoulder. she startles a little when her eyes land on you, like it’s the first time she’s realizing there’s another person here.

her smile tightens when gojo asks, “would you mind finding us a table?”

you can feel the animosity radiating off of her as she gives a much less cheery, “sure. right this way,” and brings you two to a table at the wide window that looks out onto the cherry-blossom lined streets. she practically slams your menu down while passing gojo one politely, bowing woodenly and scurrying back to the hostess podium.

gojo doesn’t even bother looking at the menus when the waiter comes over to the table. before he can even say anything, gojo declares, “we’ll take one of everything, please!”

you gawk at him. there had to be at least twenty items… there’s no way— “coming right up!” chimes the waiter as he goes off to place your orders before you could stop him.

“why would you do that?”

gojo answers, “we have to make up for years of a sugarless childhood!”

“but this is twenty-seven—”

“just trust me on this, okay?”

“fine.”

the desserts all come out together — plates and plates of pastel-colored sweets and clear jellies injected with vibrant colors — and you’re a little embarrassed as the rest of the establishment watches your waiter pull over another table to fit everything.

gojo claps his hands together, grinning like a kid in the candy story (technically, he is). “which one do you want to try first?”

your eyes take in all the items and you want to be excited to try them, but it just looks like a pastel color wheel threw up on your frilly tablecloth. instead, you tell gojo, “you choose. you know better than me.”

stroking his chin thoughtfully, gojo points at a pink mochi shaped like a cat. “these are limited-edition! try these!”

you gingerly pinch the little rice cake between your fingertips, examining it from paw to whisker before you (savagely) bite off half the cat-mochi’s face. the taste of strawberries bursts across your tongue and spreads through your mouth, paired with the undeniable sweetness of way too much sugar.

you can’t stop the pleased hum that leaves your lips and you pointedly ignore gojo’s proud simper as you chomp away at the second half of the cat. he practically pushes a raindrop cake at you next, a refreshing coolness from the cloyingly sweet mochi and the following bitterness of the melting matcha ice cream.

you don’t know how much time has passed until you and gojo have eaten through the twenty-something sweet treats he ordered. (it’s twenty-nine, but who’s counting). you feel like your teeth might just fall off from the sheer amount of sucrose you consumed — maybe your mother hadn’t simply been trying to scare you off when she mentioned your teeth rotting from sugar…

still, you as you two make your way back to the train station, you concede: “okay, i’ll admit the sweets were pretty good, but i think my mouth needs a month to recover.”

you mentally applaud gojo’s restraint in not making a ‘that’s what she said’ joke, a habit he passed to yuuji recently that you’ve made a mental note to break. instead, he replies, “guess you’ll have to start that recovery a little later because…” gojo pauses for dramatic effect before he reaches behind him and produces a small white cake box wrapped in blue string. “i’ve still got one more thing for you to try!”

“gojo, i think we tried all their cakes there.”

“no, no, no! this one’s special! open it!” he shoves it into your chest.

cautiously, you let the strings fall away and you crack the lid open to see a neatly frosted blue cake with white lettering that asks: “go on a date with me please?” and beside it is a chibi-headed version of gojo, rendered in blue frosting, with a pleading look on its face.

you glance up at him from the cake in suspicion. “are you joking?”

he raises an eyebrow. “no. these are my feelings. i really mean it. i want to take you out on a date.”

you blink at him and then the cake and back at him and the train in pulling into the station. you both wordlessly step on and it’s a surprisingly silent ride back, boring without gojo’s constant commentary about the going-ons around him. you don’t particularly mind the quiet, save for the whooshing of the train, as you mull over gojo’s proposal.

it’s… flattering. really, really flattering.

you bite back a smile, still staring down at the cake box.

it’s only when you return to the schoolgrounds that you say, “i’d love to go on a date with you, gojo.”

he snorts, “it took you that long to consider?”

“on second thought…”

“no, wait! there are no take-backs!”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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bejeweledblondie · 8 months

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Swan Lake

König x F! Ballerina Reader

Summary: König’s childhood best friend & crush fulfilled her childhood dream of dancing a principal role in the Swan Lake Ballet in Vienna

Warnings: Mentions of a size difference kink, sexual themes

As awful as it sounded Y/N was happy that the main principal dancer had to retire early. She was a bitch anyway, but her early retirement due to an ankle injury opened up opportunities for other dancers. Nearly a week ago she was getting fitting for her Odette costume, now she’s stretching backstage at the Vienna Royal Opera House for the opening night of at Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Her parents as proud at they were called, emailed, & posted on social media about their daughter’s accomplishment. But she texted König to let him know.

They had grown up together, & she was his support system. She’d help him work through his anxieties, & encouraged him to join the military. The size difference between the two once they became teenagers was a sight to see. She had also attended his basic training graduation, & always allowed for him to stay with her while he was on military leave. So when she had accomplished getting her dream role, he knew he had to be there. But with his own career it was never a guarantee.

She was stretching at the ballet barre when Anya who was playing the role of Odile came up to her. Anya knew all about König & secretly wished Y/N would finally muster up the courage to express her feelings for him. She saw the glimmer in Y/N’s eyes when she spoke about him. “I haven’t see him yet.” Anya said. “It’s nearly a full house too.”

“He’ll be here.” Y/N replied very matter of fact. Anya sighed & shook her head. She just didn’t want to see Y/N disappointed on the biggest night of her ballet career. Once Y/N was all warmed up & stretched she pressed her point shoes into the off stage rosin for grip. The orchestra started up & the lights in the house went down.

The first act started & soon enough Y/N started to grace the stage. Ballet was Y/N’s way of escape, she was so incredibly grateful. Even though the stage lights were incredibly blinding & sometimes her body wanted to give out but it was worth it. Deep down as she started her Pas De Deux she was hoping that König was somewhere in the audience. It was years since he had seen her dance & this was the one time she wished he was watching. Little did she know he had the best seat in the house.

König was late to being able to secure tickets for the ballet due to him being deployed. Y/N’s parents were even unable to him tickets. So he hatched a plan, he was going to sneak into the scaffolding above the stage where the lighting was. Which even though he stood at 6,10 due to his military experience it was incredibly easy. His stealth & ability to camouflage himself into the curtains helped.

Through the eye holes of his hood he was looking down at Y/N being handled with ease by her dance partner. One motion after the next came so fluidly for her. When she got on the top of her pointe shoe and lifted her leg into a pirouette he couldn’t help but noticed her flexibility. It had been a year since he’d seen her last & her body had fully blossomed. He bit his lip at the thought of just manhandling her & bending her into whatever position he wanted to. Deep down he had fallen in love with her but was too terrified of ruining a life long friendship.

Finally the Pas De Deux had finished, & the audience erupted into a standing ovation. Y/N & her partner Andrei exited the stage. The ballet continued on & Y/N finished the iconic solo of the, “Dying Swan.” She took deep breaths & looked up from her final pose. She tried to make out the the shadow of a man standing up in the scaffolding. If you had asked she could’ve sworn she saw a man in dark hood with eye holes cut out. He was dressed in a tuxedo & a bouquet of roses were in his left hand. With one blink of her eyes the mysterious figure disappeared. Chalking it up to the lack of oxygen & stage lights blinding her she focused on the fact she just finished.

The stage curtains closed & she stood up. Fellow dancers, & cast members came out onto the stage for the final bow. She grabbed Andrei’s hand & the stage curtains opened. The orchestra kept playing & one by one each principal dancer took a bow. When Y/N went to go take a bow the audience erupted into a minutes long standing ovation. A wide toothy smile spread across her face & she took the opportunity to live in the moment. The stage curtains closed & Andrei gave her a hug. They had been training for weeks & their hard work paid off.

König, now maskless in the wings. A pang of jealously wash over him as he watched her dance partner hug her. Anya locked eyes with him & she waved at him. He waved back & pointed to Y/N. She ran over to Y/N, & tapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh Y/N.” She said in a sing song voice. “Look who’s here.” Y/N turned around and realized what she was seeing. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him in his tuxedo holding roses. She gasped & ran towards him the sound of her pointe shoes hitting the stage echoed. With outstretched arms he lifted her up & embraced her into a deep hug.

“I’ve missed you, liebling.” He whispered. His deep voice ran a small chill down her spine. He put her down & handed her the roses. “I got these for you.”

“They’re beautiful.” She said & held the flowers close to her body. “Thank you.” His large hands reached down to her chin & lifted her face up. He bent down slowly, & locked lips with her. Her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. Once the both of them came up for air they rested their foreheads together.

“I’ve always wanted to that.” He said. “I love you, liebling.”

“I love you more.” Y/N replied & pulled him in for a deeper kiss.

#cod imagines #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig fanfiction #könig cod #call of duty #cod mwf2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod masterlist #ghost x y/n #kortac

212 notes · View notes

delilahcalicocat · 1 month

Note

Hi Delilah, can i request a Cody Rhodes x reader oneshot fic where reader gets compared to Cody's ex wife Brandi all the time and she gets alot of hate, reader tries to break up with Cody but he's not having it and he defends reader.

(No hate to Brandi i looove her 💯)

A/N: Of Course, but yes. No hate to Brandi or anyone, Brandi is awesome. I literally screamed during WrestleMania when I saw her again lol.

★~You... Mean it?~♡

{Warnings: Swearing, Crying, Toxic Social Media Followers, Kissing, Fem!reader having insecurities}

《Rating: Fluff》

[Pairing: Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader]

Cody and you'd been dating since he tore his pectoral muscle

Since he had went through a divorce with Brandi.

You were the only one to be there in the gym since you'd been training up to return.

So after he won The Royal Rumble, he'd been spending some time with you on Monday before he had to go wrestle

You were Scrolling social media, you posted some pics of your makeup for the night

It was a red base with a blue cut crease and white wing liner

And your outfit matched the makeup, being a Red Shirt with Cody's logo on it, a White Skirt, and a Blue Sparkly Bow in your hair.

Everytime you posted on Social Media, you'd be compared to Cody's Ex-Wife.

You hated that you'd be compared, you were both totally different.

But you always kept the comments secret from Cody.

You and Cody hurried into the Arena, as it was 7:58, and Cody had to get ready for his entrance.

You appeared alongside Cody, since he wanted you to be there with him

While Cody was talking about his plans for WrestleMania, the Line between Social Media and Real Life snapped.

You'd been insecure about this appearance because you looked similar to what Brandi wore in AEW..

But Cody Continued to speak about the plan to defeat Roman

Until a person shouted "She looks like Brandi!"

and another shouted "You deserve better!"

The crowd loudly Booed Y/N, She was always hated on Social media but this was too far..

"C-Cody... I think we should break up.." You said through choked out sobs, Tears running Down your face

"No, Everyone in this arena shut the fuck up!" Cody snapped after you said those words

"Y/N is the love of my life, and there's no changing that! Just because you think she looks like Brandi doesn't mean you get to Fucking hate her!" He spat

"I mean, I've seen some of her Social Media Comments. You guys call yourself followers? Come on. Do better than that." He said

The side of the crowd that actually supported You and Cody started cheering.

"If you just came to hate. Why'd you buy a goddamn ticket?!" Cody Spoke

You looked in shock, Cody was always a sweetheart. But he'd gotten defensive over the fact the crowd tried to break them up..

"Paul (HHH). Give them their money back and get them the fuck out of here." Cody Said to Triple H

Cody turned back to you and kissed you

"I love you.." He said

"You mean it?" You asked

"Of course, love" Cody said with a smile

#wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #wwe #cody rhodes fic #oneshot #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader

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vettelsdarling · 11 months

Note

Heyyy I’m the one who req the Instagram ff and I loved it so muchhhhhh and I want to ask for another but where it’s like a mix of an actual ff but also an Instagram ff? So here’s my prompt: Mick and Reader are both going through tough times regarding their dads because Michael isn’t doing well and readers dad passed away when she was in her mid teens. She and him are best friends because of her dads connection to his dad and they grew up in close proximity. She comes to all his races (can u do it so that mick is racing for Mercedes instead of George??????) and she is his biggest supporter. After a lot of time, Mick confesses to reader because he’s liked her for a long time and reader agrees to date and they make like a soft reveal on Instagram! Thank youuuu Elllll

𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑰𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔

➪Interesting plot, I like it!

➪Again, I'm pretty new to instagram fics, so I hope I succeeded in bringing your vision to life.

➪Wasn’t completely sure what you meant by “mix”, but I hope this is what you meant!

Things to note:

❥I took some inspo from “Daddy Issues“ by TNBHD

❥You’re a famous ballerina, daughter of a famous lawyer and business man, Erik Klum (name is made up btw.)

❥You and Mick are 2 years apart

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, a lot of angst, a lot of daddy issues

Word Count: 4.1k+

“𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒐.”

Euripides once said, “To a father growing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter.” The saying might've been true, but you never got to experience it for yourself. You never saw him grow old. Your dear father never got to see his sweet little girl grow old either. You missed him every single day.

Backstory

Your father, Erik Klum, was a famous lawyer, who handled Michael Schumacher’s monetary belongings. That's how you got to meet Mick Schumacher. The famous Formula One driver's son. The two of you practically grew up together. His mother, Corinna, was like a mother to you. Your own died when she gave birth to you. Mick and Gina were like your siblings. They were near your age, so the three of you had no problem getting along.

Your father did his best to provide for you. He funded your dream. Ballet. Your mother was a ballerina who travelled the world to perform. That was how she met your father. He also funded any extracurriculars you had time for along with whatever pampering he believed you needed. He wasn't a mother, so he never really had a clue about what a daughter would want, but he always tried his best. Corinna was there to help him out at times, which you also appreciated more than anything.

When you were coming into your pre-teens, you were sent to a ballet boarding school. Your father had set aside enough cash to get you there, as it was a part of your dream to be just like your mother.

At the airport, everyone came to say goodbye to you. You were moving all the way to France to pursue your ballet. Mick and Gina both cried, but Michael assured them it’d be alright. Your father only cried tears of joy. The way he saw your mother in you made his heart give out. You didn’t think the last thing you’d ever hear him say was,

“You look just like her. I’m so proud of you, my little girl.”

You spent the first couple of years training hard and working your way up the ranks at the academy. The process was halted, however, when you’d gotten a phone call from your father followed by a message.

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. Michael was in a coma. Your father explained it’d happened due to a ski accident. He’d booked you a ticket home so that you could go visit. After all, Michael was like a second father to you.

When you got there, you saw the immense grief etched on everyone’s faces. It happened so suddenly. Nobody had seen it coming. Your heart ached, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Mick and Gina were feeling. The three of you hugged and cried for the most part of that day. You stayed for two more days, grieving with everyone before you inevitably had to go back to France.

You managed to keep your composure whilst at the academy. With the updates you’d get from Mick and Gina, you were reassured. Some time passed, and you’d heard that Michael was out of his coma. It sent a huge wave of relief and helped ease your mind when you were alone. You’d been prone to panic and anxiety attacks.

A couple of more years flew by, and you suddenly got a phone call from Mick. He never really called without texting you first, because he knew you had a strict schedule. Luckily, you had your phone when he called.

“Hello?” You heard from the other end of the line.

“Hey, Mickie, what’s with the sudden call?” You asked.

“You have to get home right now. I’ll explain when you get here. We bought you a ticket, your flight leaves early tomorrow.” You felt anxious. Fear started eating away at your feet, making its way up your legs to your stomach and to your throat.

“Okay,” you croaked. The line disconnected and you immediately ran off to administration to tell them you had a family emergency and had to go home for a while. They gave you two weeks, which in retrospect, wouldn’t be enough for what was to come.

When you came to the airport, you realized your father wasn’t in sight. It was just Corinna, Mick, and Gina. Your heart sank. Had something happened to your father? Your head started pounding.

“Hi darling,” said Corinna and tried to keep her composure.

“My dad… where is he?” You asked with a shaky voice, scared of what her response would be. Much to your dread, your suspicions were confirmed,

“I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t even have the heart to tell you the words. He was gone. You broke down. Mick and Gina looked absolutely devastated for you. Your only driving force was gone. You were all alone. You couldn’t think straight. All you did on the car ride home was cry out to your father. You couldn’t believe that he was gone. It didn’t seem real to you.

When Corinna pulled into the lot of their place, soon to be yours as well, you got out with the help of Mick. Your head was too cloudy to walk by yourself. You could barely form a coherent sentence.

The funeral was the worst part. You watched as they sank your father’s mahogany coffin into the ground.

“Papa! No! Please don’t leave me, papa!” You screamed as you fell to your knees. You couldn’t take it. You never got to say goodbye to him. You never had the chance to say a few final words to him. He’d been taken from you without warning.

Mick and Gina helped you through the first two weeks, as you had to go back. Since you weren’t an adult yet, your aunt had gained custody of you, and you had to move from Switzerland to Germany. Moving away from all you’d ever known was tough on top of the death of your beloved father.

Years passed by at the academy, and you were a full-fledged Ballerina. You performed in various theatres and at famous events. You’d become somewhat of a household name in ballet. Many called you a prodigy, which you were. Your upbringing was based around ballet.

Present

You'd still kept in contact with the two Schumacher siblings during all the years you spent in France and Germany. You visited them sometimes for minor holidays, which always lifted your spirits.

Mick had started a career in racing, just like his father. He told you that he'd earned a seat at Mercedes. You had come to his races before. Several times, in fact, when he was with Haas. You were beyond ecstatic when you heard he'd earned a place in a dominant car for the new season. Next to Lewis Hamilton, no less.

You wore one of Mick’s shirts when he came out of the shower. His hair was dripping onto his chest, and he had a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, you should wear one of my new Mercedes shirts to the race today,” suggested Mick. For a while, you’d had growing feelings for Mick, and coming to all his races only made him admire you that much more. He’d come to your performances as well, and it always made you happy to see him amongst the huge audience you normally had.

“Hmm, maybe. Won’t people be suspicious though? I mean, I’d look like your…” you trailed off, hoping he’d finish off.

“No, don’t worry about it! Everyone already knows you’re like a sister to me,” He chuckled and threw you one of his shirts. It had 47 on the back of it. Your heart stung briefly when he said that you were like a sister to him.

The Australian Grand Prix was a strike of luck for you, as your performance was in the same city. You were performing in Her Majesty’s Theatre later that day. You’d practiced ever since you heard about the gig.

“You should wear one of my leotards for my performance tonight. It’s only fair!” You joked, watching as he laughed along with you. Domestic moments like this were what had made you fall in love in the first place. You travelled with him constantly. It was hard to not catch any feelings. You could only wish for him to one day feel the same.

“You’re coming to my dad’s 50th birthday luncheon next week, right? Gina said she’d come. Corinna too,” you asked. There was no race the following weekend, so he agreed to come with no hesitation. You always baked a cake on your father’s birthdays to celebrate for yourself. Sometimes Mick was there to join you. This time was different. It wasn’t just baking a cake and singing a gentle birthday song for your father. You wanted to go all in. He deserved it.

“Klum… I don’t want you to overwork yourself with the luncheon, okay? Let me help you.” Mick was always really considerate of you, which was enough to make your heart melt into a bowl of soup. You wanted nothing more than to spend every single birthday of your dad’s with him.

“Mickie… you know how much it means to me. 50 is a special number. That’s you know… halfway.” You mumbled the last part, but it was loud enough for Mick to hear it.

“I know, I know. If you really think you can do it on your own, of course, I’ll let you. I’m just saying, if you need help; I’m here for you.” You nodded and smiled at him. He gave you a warm smile back. It felt like it hugged you.

“We should probably hurry up, though. We have to be there in time.” Mick quickly found some boxers and other articles of clothes to wear for the day. The two of you were used to seeing each other without any clothes on. It felt natural. Yet, your cheeks were still dusted pink. Whilst he got into his clothes, you found a skirt to go with his shirt. It was barely visible due to the oversized shirt, but you wore it anyway. With the outfit, you wore a pair of white satin high heels you’d been gifted by Jimmy Choo. Because you were wearing his shirt, Mick had coordinated his outfit to match yours. You knew the media would try to gossip about it, but in all honesty— you wanted them to.

When the two of you arrived at the paddock, cameras were already everywhere and ready to snap photos of you and Mick in matching outfits. The paparazzi were ruthless. Anything to get the latest inside scoop. Even though you were used to the attention, you hated having your private life revealed. It was the main reason you never told a soul where you lived. Only the Schumachers, your aunt, and some of the drivers knew. You had a long-time friend from the academy who also knew because she often came over to your place to take care of it whilst you were gone.

Luckily, behind you was Lewis. He got all of the attention with his fashion statement. You adored his sense of fashion, and so did the media.

“Viel Glück, Mickie,” you said when Mick got into the car. You gave him a hug and stepped aside for the engineers and strategists. You were incredibly proud of Mick for landing a place with the silver arrows.

It was lights out and you saw all the cars race almost as if they were synchronized. It reminded you of some of the dances you’d done in the past. Before you mostly did solos, anyway.

You watched as Mick went from P13 and worked his way up to P1. You couldn’t even believe your eyes. It was incredible. With only a few laps left, he was able to fend off the driver behind him and go on to finish on pole. Everyone went to the celebration and when Mick came over to hug all his coworkers, he saw you in the midst and pulled you in for a big hug.

“This is for Erik and my dad. I did it!” Out of excitement, he kissed your forehead harshly and went on to hug the rest of the crew. Though the kiss didn’t have any meaning other than that of Mick’s elated state, it meant the world to you.

The interviewer was none other than Nico Rosberg. He came up to Mick and asked a couple of questions about the competition and whatnot, before moving on to ask about you. Mick was a bit surprised, but he answered with what media training he’d been through.

“I think Klum and I both have a lot in common and we grew up together, so I see her as a little sister. She’s very supportive of me.” It was a perfect response in his mind.

“This is your first win, you must be very excited!” Said Rosberg.

“Naturally. I’m dedicating it to Erik Klum and my father. They are both such important people to me and have shaped me into becoming the man I am today. Well, the man who just won this race.” It was sentimental and all the tabloids would be sure to latch onto that.

A week later, you were out shopping for ingredients with Mick. You'd spent the night before decorating your house. Apparently, you hadn't been discreet enough.

Sportsgossipc

47,221 likes

sportsgossipc Ballerina Y/n Klum spotted grocery shopping with Formula One driver Mick for Erik Klum’s death anniversary. Are they cosying up together with a celebration?

user1 Is it just me or is this sort of disrespectful to “gossip about”

user2I was about to say the same thing…

user3 This is wrong… Erik died in January. It's for his birthday probably

user4 Leave them alone lol they already got so much shit to handle

user5 First of all: it’s Erik’s birthday. Second of all: If it were his death anniversary, why would you make it into a gossip story??? Third of all: “cosying up together with a celebration”? What is that supposed to mean?

When you came home and went to post a happy birthday post for your dad, you saw a dm from your friend. It showed you and Mick shopping. The photo itself wasn't upsetting in particular. No, the caption is what got you. Mick walked up behind you to see what you were doing. When his eyes locked with the screen, he was shocked.

“They have no right,” said Mick and hugged your waist. You tried to not let it bother you too much and instead posted a story about it, followed by a birthday post for your father.

y/nklum posted a new story, mickschumacher posted a new story

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacher and 233,754 others

y/nklum You would be 50 today. I miss you every day. I know it’s been a while, but I will always mark my calendar on this day. Thank you for everything you’ve sacrificed and done for me, happy birthday papa❤️

mickschumacher Happy birthday, Erik❤️

ginaschumacher ❤️❤️❤️

You put your phone aside and started cooking. Gina and Corinna were going to arrive precisely at noon, so you had a good 3 hours to finish everything. You ended up letting Mick help you, as you realized there were way too many things to do.

As time passed, you got the food ready and the guests arrived. Everyone sat down by the table you had in your dining room. Next to you, you’d placed a nice portrait of your father. Before eating, a birthday song was sung in his honour.

“This is amazing, kids. You know what you’re doing!” Corinna complimented your cooking. Your usual meal was hotel food or restaurant food, but if there was one thing you could do well; it was cook. Your father had taught you from a young age, and the academy also required you to start cooking your own meals as you grew older.

“Thank you so much, Corinna, I’m glad you like it.” You smiled. Corinna was more of a mother to you than your aunt. You barely ever saw her even though you had to move all of your stuff over to her place. You spent most holidays with the Schumachers when you weren’t in France. After France, you got a house close to your second family.

“That reminds me! I found your father’s old wedding band in our storage. I figured you’d want it.” Corinna gave you a small box which contained the ring. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your cheeks. It was a beautiful gold ring with a tiny diamond in it. You hugged it and thanked her for it.

After everyone went home, you were left with Mick. He offered to clean everything so that you could take a breather outside on your patio.

After he’d finished cleaning, he met you outside. You sat on a wooden porch swing. Before taking a seat next to you, he admired how the sunset hit your face perfectly. You were beautiful. Your legs were crossed over each other and the way your face lit up when you saw him… he could barely contain his feelings for you.

“He was a great man.” Mick finally took that seat next to you.

“I miss him.”

“It’s only natural. I miss him too,” he replied calmly.

“I want him to know how I’m doing,” you whispered, trying not to cry any more than you’d already done.

“He knows. Trust me, he does.”

“Do you think he’s disappointed? Because I can’t sleep alone? Because I can’t sleep without having nightmares of him?” You leaned into Mick’s chest, hearing his heartbeat.

“Not at all. I think he’s proud of the incredible woman you’ve grown up to be.” He rubbed your back and pulled you closer to him.

“Will you stay with me forever?” You asked.

“Of course, Schatz.” Your heart started beating fast. It was the first time he’d ever called you a pet name. Usually, he resorted to your name, a nickname, or your last name. You acted as if you hadn’t heard it so that it wouldn’t create any embarrassing tension between you.

“I’m sorry. I’m being clingy and needy, aren’t I?” You sighed and looked up at the setting sun.

“Never, Liebling. I know that you’ve got daddy issues because I do too.” Hearing him say the actual term out loud made you want to bury your face in his chest and cry until you no longer had any tears left.

“My dad is still… well, you know.”

“Yeah… it must be horrible. I don’t know how it feels, but I’m always here for you.” You snuggled into him.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I had lost him that day. You’re really strong. You should know that. I will always be by your side,” Mick spoke softly.

“If you were mine, I would run away and hide from all of this fame and attention with you. We could enjoy our lives to the fullest extent.” You felt like your heart had stopped. You pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes,

“If I was yours?”

“I tried to keep it to myself… I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I’m an older brother to you, right?” He said with a hint of regret in his voice. You immediately cupped his face with both of your hands,

“You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“You feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do! I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” You smiled.

“I’ve loved you since you first took off to the academy. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” He pulled you over his lap and hugged you tightly as if you were a fragile little thing.

“I love you, Schatz.”

“I love you too, Mickie.”

A few months had passed before the two of you agreed to go public with your relationship. The timing was perfect because you attended the last race of the season. The two of you still had your reservations about going public, so you played a little game with your fans to see if they could figure it out from subtle pictures. Of course, many of the drivers knew a few weeks after it’d happened, but you’d asked them not to tell.

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacherand 355,860 others

y/nklum Came to the show with flowers and carried my heels home for me after❤️

lewishamilton Show was great, keep it up!

landonorris I fell asleep but the parts I saw were amazing👍

y/nklum Why am I not surprised😒

charlesleclerc I know, I'm such a gentleman

y/nklum Hmmm🤔

user1 NOOOOO WE LOST HER😭😭😭 MOTHER NOOOO🙏🙏🙏

user2 crying rn

user3 my parasocial relationship is quaking💔

user4 It's Charles😭👍

user5 How do you know?

user4 Didn't you see the comment he made? It's definitely him💀

user5 Oh💀😭

user6 what in the soft launch-

user7 LMAO I CAN’T WITH CHARLES BEING SO OBVIOUS

user8 What abt Mick😭💔

user9 He said several times he sees her as a sister💀

user8 Could be lying🤷

mickschumacher✔︎

Liked by y/nklum and 538,924 others

mickschumacher Watched another amazing performance❤️ Had to leave early to prepare for a date though…

charlesleclerc Cool, wish I was that flexible😅

y/nklum Thanks💖

user1 Mick???? Soft launching???? Under a y/n post???? This makes no sense

user2 Wait is he referring to y/n or someone else wtf

user3 I thought y/n was dating Charles💀

user4 Bro everyone thought that

user3 Isn’t she though?

user4 Personally I think she is but idk

user5 Why is Mick soft launching at the same time as y/n😭

user6 Lmao he went to a friend’s performance and ditched it for a date💀

user7 rip y/n

user8 Charles is there for her though🥹❤️

y/nklum✔︎

Liked by mickschumacherand 379,688 others

y/nklum Thank you to the random stranger who offered to take a picture of me and him together❤️

landonorris That random stranger was me🙄

y/nklum No, you were the third wheel

user1 Nah that definitely doesn’t look like Charles

user2 Nvm that ain’t Charles unless he dyed his hair💀

user3 isn’t that Mick😭

user4 It looks a lot like Mick. I think it is him…

user5 But didn’t Mick say that he left her performance to go on a date?

user4 No, he said he left early to go PREPARE for a date. It could’ve been a date with her.

user6 I love the subtle Lando slander for no reason😭🙏

user7 If Mick posts something like this, we’ll know what’s going on and who’s dating who💀

mickschumacher and y/nklum

Liked by landonorrisand 836,190 others

y/nvettel Spending our 6-month anniversary skiing ⛷️ Happy 6 months, Mickie❤️❤️❤️

mickschumacher Happy 6 months, Liebling, I love you❤️

y/nklum I love you more❤️

landonorris Should’ve invited me when I actually wanted to third wheel smh

y/nklum Go skiing with Carlos

charlesleclerc Finally I don’t have to keep quiet about it anymore

y/nklum You came close to revealing it one too many times

lewishamilton Enjoy your vacation guys, congrats🙌

user1 I KNEW IT. FROM THE FIRST SOFT LAUNCH POST I KNEW IT.

user2 Jeez okay we get it💀

user3 I really thought it was Charles lmao

user4 I always thought they looked good together🙏

user5 childhood friends and now dating? This is the sweetest🥹❤️

user6 I can’t wait for the wedding pics

user7 They better get married

user8 Lando in the comments again😭😭😭

You thought back to when it all started, as you sat in the ski resort’s outdoor hot tub. It was just you and Mick in a hotel room, both hoping the other felt the same way.

You knew that your father would be proud. You’d fallen in love with a respectable man. A man that he got to meet and know before he passed. A man that you could call home because you could be in any hotel and still feel at home as long as you were with him. With Mick.

You also knew that if you ever were to have children, you and Mick would be sure to tell them all about their grandfathers. How one was a former world champion, and how the other was an unbeatable lawyer. They were both heroes. You’d convinced yourself. You could convince a couple of toddlers.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

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makeitmingi · 9 months

Text

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 19]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

When it was time to take Haneul back, the boys let you go on your own, knowing that you would want to spend time with Haneul and to give you privacy. But you did drop by the dorm first.

"I'll see you soon, little bear." Jongho smiled softly, patting her head as she wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him. Haneul was probably the only person that was allowed to hug Jongho without being punched.

"Bye~" Yunho waved while Mingi gave her a hi-five. The boys all doted on Haneul like she was their own sister.

"See you soon, my baby star." Seonghwa grinned and engulfed her in a big hug, making her giggle.

"Promise you'll buy me yoghurt next time?" Haneul looked up at Hongjoong. Hongjoong bent down until he was at the same eye level as she was.

"I'll buy you all the yoghurt you want." He promised. She squealed, looking up at you happily.

"Go to Wooyoung oppa. He's sad." San softly ushered. Haneul ran and hugged Wooyoung's leg. Wooyoung pouted, lifting her up in his arms to shower her in kisses.

"Why are you sad?" Hanuel put her hands on Wooyoung's cheeks.

"I'm gonna miss you, my princess." He said, lightly bumping his forehead against her own.

"I'm gonna miss you too, oppa." Haneul replied, hugging him and resting her chin on his shoulder. Wooyoung pouted sadly, his bottom lip jutting out.

"We'll see each other again. When your unnie brings you to stay, we'll all go and play together." Wooyoung said. He knew he was supposed to be the assuring adult in this situation, not the sad one that's acting like he won't see her again. But he had obviously grown very close to Haneul and vice versa.

"Alright, let's go before we miss our train." You held her hand. The boys walked you both to the door. She waved to all 8 Ateez members before walking away with you.

"Did you have fun with the oppas?" You asked her. She nodded her head excitedly.

"I want to see them again!" She grinned up at you.

"Sure. Next time I pick you up, we'll come visit them. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to see you and play." You chuckled.

"That means Seonghwa oppa can make me more bunny pancakes!" She jumped up and down, happy at the prospect of having another slightly deformed bunny pancake.

"I guess so." You replied with a laugh, buying the train tickets. You were both right on time, the train already at the platform, waiting for passengers to board. Haneul walked in front of you as you tried to find your seats.

"Here we are." You stopped her. Haneul climbed into the inner seat, preferring to look out the window.

"You've been with me for almost 3 weeks, baby." You told her.

"And I had a lot of fun, unnie. We played and ate a lot of food. Thank you." She looked up at you. You immediately melted, reaching out to put your hand on your head.

"You're welcome, baby." You said softly, stroking her hair. You wanted to apologise for not being able to let her live with your permanently.

One day. One day, you can have Haneul live with you. You just needed more stability in your life and job first before you can care for another human being, much less a growing child.

"Baby... Do you ever wish you had an omma and an appa?" You asked her. Haneul shook her head without needing the think.

"You don't?" You were surprised by her answers. Sure, she lived at the orphanage but you knew that her peers in kindergarten all had parents and a happy family.

"I don't want an omma and an appa. I have you! But Wooyoung oppa said that Seonghwa oppa is omma and Hongjoong oppa is appa. So I have you, Seonghwa omma and Hongjoong appa. That's 3! While others have 2! And I have all the other oppas. That's a very big family." She reasoned.

"Yeah... It is a big family..." You replied. How could Haneul and you integrate into the Ateez family so easily? But while Haneul accepted it, there was a part of you that was still scared and wary of it.

"You like the oppas, right?" Haneul asked.

"I do." You replied.

"So they're your family too?" She continued. Family was suppoed to be forever. Your own parents didn't stick around. You didn't want to lean on them only for this to be temporary.

"Wow, Haneul. Look at the horses!" You pointed out the window. She turned to press her hands on the glass, looking at the animals.

Although you felt bad for distracting her, you didn't want to lie to her either. But that was your own convictions. Now, you were supposed to enjoy time with Haneul. You leaned over to watch the animals with her, resting a hand on her back steadily.

"Careful." You helped Haneul down from the seat when the train arrived at your stop. You bent down to wrap an arm around her, afraid she might fall from the train stopping too abruptly.

"Jump." You instructed and she jumped over the small gap between the train and the platform giddily. She immediately held your hand.

"Can we get ice cream before we go back?" She asked.

"Of course." Even though Haneul had ice cream with the boys last night, you couldn't say no now.

"Which flavour do you want?" You held her up to the glass for her to see all the flavours. You read out the flavours to her since she still had some trouble reading the more complex Korean letters.

"Strawberry! With cookie crumbs, please." She decided. You gave her order to the staff scooping.

"Here you go." The male came out from behind the counter to give the ice cream to Haneul. She received it with two hands, her eyes sparkling at the sweet treat in front of her.

"What do you say?" You prompted.

"Thank you for the ice cream, mister." She chimed, running to sit at one of the tables so she could quickly dig into her ice cream. The staff smiled at her, ruffling her hair before straightening up to attend to you at the cash register. You paid for Haneul's ice cream and grabbed some napkins for her.

"Thanks." You smiled to the guy and went to sit with Haneul. Instead of sitting beside her or opposite her, you lifted her to sit in your lap, your arms loosely sitting around her waist.

"Is it good?" You asked, wiping her mouth. She nodded and held a spoon out to you for you to take a bite.

"Good?" She looked at you.

"It's amazing." You smiled as you ate the ice cream. You weren't a fan of sweets but you would gladly indulge Haneul just to see her adorable reaction.

When Haneul finished her ice cream, you both headed to the orphanage. You walked in with her and saw the ahjumma there.

"Ahjumma, how are you?" You asked.

"Better." She replied briefly with a nod, never one to have a conversation with. You turned around and bent down to Haneul, giving her a tight hug.

"I'll see you soon, baby. If you need anything, you know to contact me. I'll come right away. I love you so much." You said softly.

"I love you too, unnie." Haneul replied. After you let her go, you passed an envelope of money to the ahjumma with an awkward smile. You patted Haneul's head as she walked in. It took you a lot of will power to turn and walk away.

Letting out a shaky breath, you slipped your mask on and made your way back to the train station. Behind your mask, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to stop yourself from getting emotional.

"Stop crying so much." You scolded yourself, hitting your fist against your thigh.

The train departed from the station and very soon, you were heading back to your home. But you didn't expect someone to be waiting there for you.

"Mings? What are you doing here?" You blinked in confusion. He was wearing a mask and cap worn low but you recognised him.

"Wait, let's go up. It's a little open here." You led him upstairs to your home, not wanting fans to see.

"Thanks." Mingi removed his shoes and stepped into your home. He didn't think that you would just invite him into your home like that. But to be honest, Mingi wasn't thinking when he left the dorm to come here. Before you could offer him a drink, Mingi grasped your arm, tugging you to him to hug you tightly.

"What..." You were confused, still unsure why Mingi was at your house to begin with. He was gentle with his hold on you, leaning down slightly so the side of his head pressed against yours.

"Are you okay...?" You asked, a little cautiously.

"I thought you might need some comforting... With Haneul going back. So I wanted to check on you." He explained.

"Oh." You finally understood. You lifted your arms to hug Mingi back, grateful that he came down and waited for you just to see if you were okay. There was a slight warmth in your chest.

"Thank you, Mings." You said, muffled against him. When you let him go, Mingi took a step back.

"I'm fine. I mean... I am a little sad that she's not able to stay with me and I miss her already but I'll be okay." You patted his arm.

"Don't keep things in." He placed a hand on your head.

"I won't." You pulled off your mask to smile at him, knowing he was referring to the promise that you made with him to not keep your feelings in anymore. Mingi sat on the couch while you got him a drink from the kitchen.

"Thanks for entertaining Haneul while she was here. She had a great time with all of you." You handed him the drink before taking a seat beside him.

"There's no need to thank, I'm glad she had a good time with us. The last kid we had around us was Wooyoung's brother." Mingi said.

"She did. I think you guys get along because she's nearly 5 and you guys are all mentally 5 year olds." You snickered. Mingi shot you a flat look while you continued laughing.

"But Jongho was so sweet with Haneul." You added.

"I think she and Yeosang are the only ones that he allows to hug him. Without getting socked." Mingi snorted.

"Actually, would you like to stay for dinner?" You blurted out, rubbing your hands on your thigh, suddenly feeling nervous with Mingi next to you for some reason.

"Sure. We can order take out so you don't have to cook. You've had a long day." Mingi suggested.

"No need... That's if you don't mind eating simply... I think I'm too used to cooking meals now since Haneul's been with me for 3 weeks. I don't really want her eating takeout or outside food too much." You rubbed the back of your neck, realising you might sound like a strict or paranoid parent.

"I don't mind, I'll eat anything." He smiled.

"Except vegetables." You corrected with a teasing smile. Mingi blushed, knowing that he had been caught.

"I think you know too much about us. If you ever go to the media, they're sure going to have a field day with what you know." Mingi raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you guys can do the same. You know what the mysterious Producer Indigo looks like and acts like." You nudged him lightly.

"That's true." Mingi rubbed his chin as if he was actually contemplating it.

"I'm going to take meat out to thaw." You punched his arm and rolled your eyes before shuffling over to the kitchen to take things out of the freezer. You didn't really know what to cook yet.

"What are you gonna cook?" Mingi asked, coming over to see you just take things out of the freezer and fridge, piling them onto the counter.

"Not sure... looks like it'll be a mix of stuff. Beef jeon, japchae, dak galbi..." You listed as you checked on which vegetables were going bad. When you had a lot of vegetables going bad, they would end up in a japchae or some sort of fried rice.

"Those all sound good. I can help with some of the cooking tasks. I may not be the best cook but I promise I'm not as bad as Hongjoong hyung." Mingi chuckled and rolled his sleeves up.

"I'm sure Hongjoong would not be pleased to hear you dissing his cooking skills." You giggled.

"He knows he's bad. He practically went viral for his bad cooking skills." Mingi scoffed, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

"Alright, I trust you." You said. That's how you and Mingi began to work in the kitchen together. You have to admit, he was right, he did kind of know his way around food and the kitchen.

"My parents own a restaurant, you know?"

"I wouldn't know because you've never taken me." You scoffed, meaning for it to be a joke.

"I'll definitely take you next time for dinner. My omma would love you." Mingi promised. You felt your cheeks heat up at his words but luckily Mingi was facing the other way and couldn't see you get flustered by his words. He did the prep work and all the cutting while you made the marinades and sauces.

"Should I start frying the jeon while you continue the dakgalbi?" You asked. Mingi nodded, pouring the marinade that you made for the dakgalbi into the bowl with the chicken and vegetables.

"Be careful." Mingi cautioned as you began to shallow fry the battered pieces of beef.

"I got it." You assured. Since the beef jeon was thin, they were done relatively quickly. You put them on a paper towel to dry.

"The japchae noodles are done soaking, I'll start assembling everything together." Mingi said. You stir fried the dakgalbi and Mingi finished up the japchae.

"Oww, it's hot!" Mingi complained as he tossed everything in the bowl. He only had plastic vinyl gloves on which were not very heat resistent.

"Just use the tongs." You laughed. You went to the drawer to get out the tongs for him to use.

"You're okay with cheese right?" You asked.

"Love cheese." Mingi replied. You turned off the flame for the dakgalbi and sprinkled cheese on the top before closing the lid. The residual heat would melt the cheese. You and Mingi placed all your completed dishes on the table.

"We have japchae but want some rice?" You offered. Mingi stood next to you at the rice cooker as you scooped the rice into bowls. After that, you finally sat down to eat.

"Wow." Mingi took his phone out to snap a picture. He wouldn't tell the members that he was here but it was a memory for him. The first time he cooked with you and the first time he was at your house.

"Enjoy." The two of you sat opposite each other and dug in.

"Mmm, that's good." Mingi melted as he took a bite of food. You nodded in agreement.

"Everything tastes so good." It was a joint effort and cooking with Mingi made the process so much more fun. It didn't feel tiring at all and you both cooked such amazing dishes.

"You should cook more often, you have potential." You told him, swallowing your food.

"Nah, I don't have the interest for it, which is why my omma always laments. Wooyoung is interested in cooking, that's why he does it more and has that cooking segment that he does. Seonghwa hyung... I think it just comes to him because he is naturally like a mother to all of us." Mingi said.

"Haneul keeps saying Seonghwa is an omma, not an oppa. And she says Hongjoong is appa. You guys are teaching her your bad ways." You laughed, shaking your head.

"She's the newest member of the family, it's only right that we teach her of the different roles." Mingi shrugged.

You and Mingi continued to happily chat as you ate. It was all light hearted conversations, nothing too heavy. You and him shared a lot of laughs.

"Let me help with the dishes." Mingi stood up. You were putting the leftovers into containers.

"No, it's okay." You shook your head.

"If you're about to go into a whole thing about me being a guest and how you can't possibly ask me to do the dishes, save it. We cooked together, we will clean together." Mingi was quick to refute. You sighed but gave in to him.

"It'll be easier if I wash and you dry since you know where everything goes." He said, bringing the empty dishes to the sink while you continued to pack the leftovers to put in the fridge.

"You should wear an apron. You're gonna wet your clothes." You adviced, noticing the front of his shirt already slightly wet.

"It's fine. It'll dry. And I'm headed home after this anyway." He waved you off.

"Suit yourself." You took the washed dishes from the rack and dried them, putting them back. When the dishes were done, you and Mingi sat down for some tea to end the evening.

"It's getting late, I should head back since I have a schedule tomorrow." Mingi said. You nodded your head, not wanting him to go back so late since he was on his own and to not be tired during his schedule tomorrow. You walked him to the door but your heart felt heavy at the thought of him leaving.

"I'll see you soon?" Mingi tilted his head.

"Yeah, I'll move my stuff back to the studio and go back to working from the KQ building." You said.

"If you can't move everything, don't do it and hurt yourself. I'll come with the boys to help you transport whatever you need." He smiled and you hummed.

"Thanks for coming by to check on me and having dinner with me. I had fun and I really appreciate you doing that for me." You confessed.

"Don't thank me, Indigo. I would do it any time for you." Mingi said softly. In all honestly, he didn't want to leave too.

"Be safe on your way back. Let me know when you're at the dorm." You said, leaning against the door frame. Mingi nodded but made no attempt to move. Why did his feet feel like they were glued to the floor? He couldn't will himself to move.

"Ah, screw it." Mingi cursed.

It happened so fast. Mingi cupping your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips against yours. He teeterd you back into the apartment, closing your front door shut with his leg.

"M-Mingi." You gasped as you both pulled away. But his forehead remained pressed against yours while you caught your breath.

"I'm sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

"No, don't be sorry..." You assured. Mingi opened his eyes to stare into your own.

"I shouldn't-" You tip toed, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him again, cutting him off. Mingi's arms wound around your waist, squeezing the flesh as he melted into your kiss.

"I'm not going back to the dorm tonight." Mingi murmured, pressing his face into your shoulder. Although you would have usually persuaded him to go back since he had a schedule in the morning, you wanted to be selfish just this once and keep him with you. You wanted to have him near you.

"That's fine with me." You replied, your hands moving to wrap themselves around him.

Series Masterlist

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mercmorales · 4 months

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Idol reader x Jujutsu Kaisen hmmm

Y/N is a J-pop idol who was apart of a girl group for a few years

Her parents were Jujutsu sorcerers, so she had decided to become one as well

Problem is, however, she had garnered up a diehard fan base that quite literally cried when she announced she would be taking a break from touring with her group so she could start school again

Two of these fans were Itadori and Kugisaki

“Oh she’s quitting! We’re all gonna dieee!!” Itadori cried out as he kneeled to the shrine he had made in the dormitory common room.

Kugisaki cried as she held a photo book that had been summer themed. “We lost a good one! We’re gonna miss you, L/N-sama!”

“How can you guys cry over a celebrity who isn’t even dead? She’s just going on hiatus ” Megumi said at the two.

Nobara growled at the boy while tears still streamed down her face. “Shut up! You don’t get it!

They did not expect you to start going to school with them

“Okay my students! I am happy to announce that you have a new classmate joining us today!” Gojo said as he held up a peace sign.

Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi whispered to one another about their teacher’s strange behavior. “I think our teacher is on drugs.”

Yuuji nodded at the girl’s statement. “I’ve never seen Gojo-sensei this excited before.”

“He’s finally lost it.” Megumi said with a sigh.

“OI! I AM PERFECTLY FINE AND SOBER THANK YOU!” Gojo said to his students.

Gojo huffed, but his smile returned to his face soon after. “I just wanted to reveal our new student who will be joining us from now on!”

Gojo moved to the side, revealing Y/N. “Hello! My name is—”

“Y/N L/N?!? FROM THE POPULAR GIRL GROUP CHERRY BLOSSOMS?!?!!?!?”

Safe to say that they were extremely excited by the reveal

YUUJI ITADORI

He asked you to autograph all of your merch when you first met

To this day he still has stuff he wants you to sign

He tries his best not to fangirl whenever you’re fighting curses but he ultimately fails

He always tries to figure out how your cursed technique works but he can’t really wrap his brain around it

You sing him to sleep some nights and he sometimes dreams about being on a beach with you :3

If you’re taller than Yuuji (5’8/173 cm.) he’ll be ten times more fanatic around you

NOBARA KUGISAKI

Give her your skincare routine oh my god

She isn’t as crazy as Yuuji but she isn’t sane about you either

You gave her and Yuuji tickets to the show your group was performing in Tokyo since you were going to be there as a special guest

She cried tears when she saw you come out on stage

She loved you even more after that

She loves shopping with you and giving you outfit combinations that she made for you

She shares her clothes with you and you do the same, causing her to wear your hoodies around the dorms and even to go out on small errands (Yuuji gets mad at her)

She likes painting you nails and complaining about how Megumi and Yuuji don’t pull their weight on missions and make the two of you do most of the heavy lifting

You use your idol money to spoil her sometimes and she swoons at that

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

Has never heard your music a day in his life

Doesn’t even realize you were an idol. He thought you were a model since your face was everywhere in Tokyo

He listened to your group’s music and said it wasn’t something he would listen to but it was good

He listened to your solo songs

He is now a fan and he buys your merch whenever he goes out shopping and sees it

Unlike Yuuji and Nobara, he treats you like another peer of his

Hard for it to stay mutual when you hear your music being played late at night

SATORU GOJO

Gojo met you when he was sixteen and you were four

He’s always been a good student for you parents and a great babysitter for you (even though he didn’t like babysitting at the time)

When he saw that you were training to become an idol, he was so happy for you but a little sad as well

He thought you would never have time to hangout with your old babysitter who would feed you nothing but sweet stuff

But when you announced your hiatus to continue school, he may have convinced your parents to enroll you into Jujutsu High so he could see you again

He was the one who helped you find your own unique cursed technique at the young age of 9

He found you a microphone and told you to imbue it with cursed energy

The energy was (F/C)! For some reason

He compares you CT to cursed speech since your voice is used a good portion of the time

Property of Mercury Morales. Do not repost anywhere! Thank you! ʚɞ

#jujutsu kaisen #fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #yuuji itadori #idol reader

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lavenderlegends · 7 months

Text

say, don't go

ship: stiles/derek prompt: memories characters: lydia, jackson, scott, isaac, boyd, erica, allison, kira, malia, danny cw: n/a tags: light angst, fluff, stiles leaves the pack, christmas word count: 2.5k ao3 ♞♚♞♚

Stiles stares out the window of the train. He fidgets with the receipt for his ticket in his hands. Crumpling, uncrumpling, ripping tiny pieces, and eventually, shoving it into his backpack's side pocket. He swallows, but there's a lump in his throat, and he doesn't know if he can breathe anymore.

He stands up under the guise of stretching his legs, and then sits down again. Squirms. He should've taken his ADHD and anti-anxiety meds, but he was so nervous about today that it slipped his mind completely.

"Excuse me," a voice comes from beside him. Stiles looks at the young girl in the seat next to him. She eyes his bouncing knee. "Do you mind not doing that? You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," he mumbles. He tries his best to stop, but it starts up again. He gives her an apologetic look and then looks back out the window.

It's mostly trees, and he wishes that it was more distracting.

They slow down to the next stop, and the girl beside him takes someone else's seat.

Stiles inhales sharply. Just outside his window, a perfect Christmas tree. He can't help himself. He's transported back, back to before he left Beacon Hills.

♞♚♞♚

"What do you think you're doing?" Lydia asks, laughing. She wraps her fingers around his wrist and tries to pull him in another direction. "C'mon, I have a gut-feeling the perfect Christmas tree is this way."

"No," Stiles says, shaking his head. He comes to a stop. "It's right there. Look at it. It's perfect."

"Perfect?" Lydia echoes. She stares at the tree before Stiles. "Actually... it just might be. Okay, I'll tell Jackson we want this one."

"Okay." Stiles lets her go and circles the tree to ensure that it really is perfect. He beams when Lydia shows up with Jackson. "This is the one."

Jackson inspects it before nodding. "Yep. It is. Stiles, bring the car around front?"

"Sure."

He makes his way through the tree farm and jingles Jackson's keys in his hand. It's going to be brilliant. Derek will never see it coming.

About a half hour later, they arrive at the Hale House. It's a little cold, a little empty. But it's big, beautiful, and ready to be loved again.

"Alright, I'll ask Scott to help me with the tree," Jackson says, giving Stiles a clap on the shoulder. "You go make sure everything else is in place."

"Bless," Stiles mutters as he jogs into the house. He's instantly hit with the aromas of food. Really, really good food. "God, it smells good."

"Doesn't it?" Scott asks, appearing in the living room archway. "Does Jackson need help with the tree?"

"Yeah."

"On it." Scott pauses before slipping out the front door. "This is really something that you're doing for him."

"It's nothing," Stiles says, unsure how to handle the sweet moment.

"It's something," Scott reassures him before leaving.

Stiles makes his way down the hallway to the kitchen. He grins. Erica and Boyd are blaring Christmas songs and laughing with each other.

Boyd catches sight of Stiles and nods silently, and Erica spins around. She's beaming. "Stilinski, reporting for duty."

He laughs. "How's it going, Reyes?"

"Great. The turkey is in the oven. The mashed potatoes are mashed. The beans are dressed. The--"

Boyd puts his arms around Erica's waist and she stops short to kiss his cheek.

"Everything is going to plan," Boyd says, grinning. "Kira and Allison will take over with the cookies soon."

Stiles grins back. "Speaking of... where are they?"

"Family room," Erica and Boyd answer in unison.

"Perfect." Stiles blows them kisses and they go back to work. He swings around into the family room where Danny is bent before the new electric fireplace. "Danny, my boy, how's it going?"

"Great," Danny answers, flicking a button. The electric fireplace roars to life.

"Amazing." He glances around. Kira, Allison, and Malia are giggling in the corner. "What's going on?"

Kira spins around first, her face red. "Nothing. Nothing. We were just..."

"We can't find this ugly doll's clothes," Malia answers, showing him a hideous doll.

"Uh..."

"It was Cora's," Allison explains. "She left explicit instructions that it was to make an appearance at the party."

"But it's naked," Kira adds, before she starts laughing nervously.

"Cora would hide all the clothes," Stiles says, shaking his head. "Maybe check with Laura where she might have put them before she left for New York?"

"On it!" Malia says, setting the doll back down.

"The decorations look amazing," Stiles murmurs, as he really allows himself to take in the room.

"Honestly, Derek had a lot of really great stuff in the shed," Allison tells him. "And anything we didn't find, Scott went out and bought."

"Nice." Stiles swings his thumb over his shoulder. "I think Erica and Boyd are cleaning up the kitchen for the cookies."

"Ooh, yay!" Kira says, grabbing Allison's hand. They rush past him.

Malia says, "Laura has an idea. Apparently, Cora has a secret back to her closet. I'll go check."

Stiles nods.

"Where do you want the tree?" Jackson's deep voice comes suddenly.

"And please answer fast, it's heavy!" Scott chimes in.

Stiles laughs. "That corner, please."

"I'll go get the decorations," Danny calls out.

Stiles helps Jackson and Scott set up the tree. Jackson and Scott chat about nothing of importance, so Stiles zones out and makes sure that every branch is placed perfectly.

Danny and Scott decorate the tree, and Stiles would be worried, but they know how important this is. They hang everything with extra care, and ask Stiles for direction multiple times.

♞♚♞♚

An hour later, everything is in place.

"Where's Isaac and Derek?" Stiles mutters, looking at the time on his phone.

"Coming up the drive right now," Jackson announces from the window.

"Places, people!" Lydia calls out. She turns to Stiles and says, "You ready for your big surprise?"

"Not in the slightest," Stiles mutters.

He moves towards the front door, and takes a deep breath. He had given the pack strict instructions to leave the front foyer the same. It's all part of the surprise.

It feels like forever until the front door swings open. Derek steps in, Isaac following close behind. Derek frowns.

"Stilinski, what are you up to?"

Stiles laughs. "Nothing. We just borrowed your kitchen to make cookies. That's all."

"Oh." Derek shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up. "Fine, but can you ask permission next time? You forget how potent the cookie scent is when Allison and Kira bake. They use so much sugar. It's sickenly sweet."

That's what I'm counting on, Stiles thinks. He grins. "Sure. Want to join us for a game in the family room?"

Derek glances at Isaac, who shrugs innocently. "...sure."

Stiles can't wait.

It's his best present ever.

He trails behind Derek and Isaac and despite expecting it, startles when everyone shouts "Surprise!"

"What--" Derek stammers. "What is this?"

"Merry Christmas," Stiles whispers beside him.

Everyone comes out from their hiding spots, settling into various places in the family room, and Derek turns to Stiles. "You did this?"

"Yeah. Couldn't have you celebrating Christmas all by yourself, now, could we?" Stiles asks, grinning.

"Oh my god," Derek mutters, looking over Stiles' shoulder. "Did Cora tell you about that doll?"

"Huh?" Stiles glances back and then says, "Yeah. Why?"

"It used to give me nightmares," Derek mutters. Stiles laughs, surprising himself. Derek takes a deep breath and says, "You know Cora and Laura are just in New York. It's not like they're... gone."

"I know." Stiles leans into Derek as Danny passes him. "We just wanted to do something for you. Make sure you knew that we'll always be a pack."

"I don't know what to say, Stiles. The place looks great." Derek glances around. "Thank you."

"Any time, bud."

Derek's face falls, and Stiles isn't sure what he did wrong. He takes a breath before adding, "Erica and Boyd made dinner."

"Amazing," Derek says, but it sounds different. Like he's not excited at all.

"Stiles, come settle an argument!" Jackson calls out.

"What makes you think I'm siding with you?" Stiles calls back. He pauses and says, "I'll be back."

"Sure," Derek says, as Kira comes bouncing up and wraps her arms around him.

Stiles walks over to settle an argument, and can't help but feel that saying goodbye to Derek is going to be harder than he expected.

♞♚♞♚

Now, it's a year later, and Stiles is on the train back to Beacon Hills. The train starts moving, snapping him out of the memory. He swallows. Telling Derek that night that he had been given a job offer in Vancouver had been hard.

Derek hadn't yelled. Hadn't even blamed him for leaving. He'd simply said, "That's why you did this. It's a goodbye party."

Stiles squirms, just thinking of it now.

And three hours later, he's getting off the train. He'd texted the almost defunct pack chat that he'd be getting home now. Scott assured him someone would be here to pick him up.

He just didn't expect it to be Derek.

"What--" Stiles starts and falters. He almost trips. "Derek?"

"Hey, Stilinski." It's said so flatly.

"Hi. I wasn't..."

"Expecting me?" Derek finishes for him when he trails off. "Yeah, well. Everyone else just conveniently happen to be busy."

"Can..."

"Let's go," Derek interrupts. He turns around and stalks off towards the parking lot. Stiles scrambles to follow him.

It's not until they're in the safety of Derek's Corvette that he manages to catch his breath. Seeing Derek after all this time... it's so hard.

He keeps getting flashes of memories. Of how he'd been so excited for the job opportunity. How everyone encouraged him to go, follow his dreams, and that Derek would be fine. If Derek had only said, "Don't go." Stiles would've happily stayed in Beacon Hills.

But Derek hadn't said anything. In fact, Derek had ignored every text, every midnight call, every olive branch.

"Can we talk?" Stiles asks, as they pull out of the parking lot.

"How are you?"

"No. Like... talk. Talk about how you haven't said a damn word to me since last year and--"

"And how you said we'd always be a pack and then ran away?" Derek interrupts. "Sure, we can talk about that."

"Derek, please." Stiles hates pleading, but he misses his best friend. He's about to tell him as much when Derek snorts. Anger flares up in Stiles. "Why are you acting like me leaving was the end of the pack?"

"Because it was." Derek glances at Stiles and hesitates before pulling his gaze back to the road. "Did you not get the memo?"

"Clearly not! What are you talking about!" Stiles shouts, hating that he's raising his voice to Derek.

Derek sighs and then explains. "After you left, the pack sort of disbanded. Everyone just got busy with their own thing. Lydia and Jackson travelled. Danny sort of faded out completely. Erica and Boyd do their own thing. Scott and Allison are focused on their vet clinic. Kira and Malia moved out of town. Isaac... who the fuck knows where he is or what he's doing these days. Last I heard he got a job at an autobody shop."

Stiles blinks. "What... what are you talking about?"

"You were the glue," Derek mutters. "And when you left, it all fell apart. Didn't you notice that the pack group chat hasn't been used in over six months before you decided to waltz back in?"

"I--" Stiles starts, but Derek's on a roll.

"Didn't you think about us?" he asks. Then quieter, "Didn't you think about me?"

"Of course, I did!" Stiles argues. "That's why I threw that huge Christmas party at your place! So, you'd know you'd never be alone."

Derek snorts. "Look at how well that turned out."

"Derek, I'm sorry, but..." Stiles frowns and rubs his face. "I didn't know. I had no idea. If I could go back in time, I would! I wouldn't go to Vancouver. I would stay right here."

"Would you?"

He's had a lot of time to think about this and nods. "Yeah. Yeah. I would. And you wanna know why?"

"Why?" Derek snaps.

"I miss you."

Derek's eyes are glued to the road, and Stiles wonders what he's thinking. There used to be a time when he'd just know. When they were in sync.

But the truth is out there now, so he might as well keep talking. "I miss you, you idiot. I miss how you'd show up at my bedroom window at the strangest hours, and sometimes, you had updates on situations, and sometimes... you just wanted some company. I miss how you always, always control the music in the car even though that is totally a passenger's responsibility."

Derek's lips twitch. Slightly. But it's enough for him to keep going.

"I miss the way you kept me on my toes. I never knew if you'd finally admit how you felt about me, or if I was making all the signs up in my head. I miss the way I would silently beg you to kiss me, and you'd be too busy laughing to notice. I miss the way you hug and smell and I miss the way you loved me."

Stiles lets out a deep breath.

Derek doesn't look at him, but simply pulls up in front of Stiles' dad's house.

"I never meant to hurt you, Derek." He swallows hard. "I just... I was going mad with confusion. I took the job because I thought maybe I'd take some space and sort out my thoughts. But I'm not over it. I don't think I'm ever going to be over you."

"Would you shut up?" Derek asks, but his voice is soft and there's no anger in it. "I'm processing."

Stiles nods, because he knows Derek needs time to sort out his thoughts. After all, it's a lot of information to receive at once.

But he starts to fidget. And his knee starts bouncing. And he can't contain himself much longer.

"I... I didn't know that you felt the same way," Derek finally says.

Stiles' lips part but he closes them. It's Derek's turn now.

"I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

"You know, if you had told me to stay, I would've." Stiles rubs his hands together. "I loved you."

"Loved?"

"Love," Stiles corrects. "I loved you then, and I love you now."

"And tomorrow?" Derek asks, softly.

"And tomorrow, I'll love you."

Derek's lips twitch into a smile and that's all Stiles ever needed to see. He doesn't hesitate this time. Doesn't worry that he's making a huge mistake. Because he knows. Deep down, he knows that it was always meant to be him and Derek.

They're kissing and it's glorious and beautiful and hot and sexy and all the treasures at once.

"I love you too," Derek murmurs. "Quit your job. Move back. Come home."

"Boy, do I have good news for you," Stiles whispers, laughing. Derek tilts his head. "I quit my job two weeks ago."

Derek grins.

It's not everything they have to work through, Stiles knows, but for now, it's enough.

"We have a pack to get back together!" Stiles announces.

"Tomorrow," Derek says, before pulling him into another kiss.

♞♚♞♚

#sterek ficlet #sterek #sterek fic #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #derek x stiles #derek hale #stiles stilinski #30 days of teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #my writing

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outerbankies · 6 months

Note

happy early thanksgiving! are nl rafe and reader celebrating a california friendsgiving this year or do they give their families yet another chance? :)

i meaaaaaan - since you asked, and since thanksgiving is a new light national holiday!

—

new light: smaller acts - rafe cameron

nl masterlist

“I don’t think there’s much we can do, Mr. Cameron. I’m really very sorry.”

Ward’s travel agent, Stephanie, had exhausted every option; at least, all of the ones she could think of combined with every suggestion Rafe could think of to throw at her. Denver, Dallas, Atlanta—every connection flying into anywhere near the Outer Banks for Thanksgiving was getting cancelled.

Stephanie had been Rafe’s last resort. He’d already flashed every credit card he had at every ticket counter in the entire airport, he’d tried using his airline status and the points he’d built up (if there was one thing his father had taught him, it was the importance of airline status), he’d even looked up trains to farther airports that could fly you guys out to an airport even farther from the OBX, he’d worry about rental car options if you could get anywhere within driving distance. Rafe had gone down every avenue he could think of, his urgency increasing as he watched reality sinking in on your face that Thanksgiving in the Outer Banks was just not happening for you two this year.

“How about if you sent us up North?” he tries, his last-ditch effort even though he’d already checked there, too. When you both arrived this morning, you blissfully unaware and Rafe having been tracking the storms all week, he’d kicked it into gear as soon as the slight delay had turned into cancellation. He thought you’d be safe when you checked in for your flights last night with no issues, but no dice.

Three hours later and with no happy ending in sight, Rafe would take a four-leg journey with layovers that barely gave you enough time to run between gates, squished into a middle seat at the back of the plane, with no less than three crying babies just for good measure, if it meant seeing that smile of relief on your face when you realized he’d figured it all out for you.

But you don’t even look hopeful anymore, not stressed or worried either, but resigned and melancholy, sitting across from him with your legs propped up on your carry-on bag.

“We don’t need to be seated together,” he adds.

“I really wish I could, Rafe,” Stephanie sighs, but Rafe can hear she’s stopped typing in the background. The fact that he even got a hold of her today was a miracle, and he’s sure Ward’s loyalty over the years gave him a boost. “There’s just nothing that won’t cost you both an arm and a leg. Everything’s oversold, you’d be standby only. And even if I did book you on something, cancellations and delays are likely in this weather.”

“I appreciate you trying, Stephanie, I really do,” Rafe sighs. “I can let you go now.”

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t do more for you two,” she says sympathetically. “I hope you enjoy your holiday regardless.”

Rafe wishes her likewise and hangs up the phone, surprised to see you already standing to gather your bags.

“So nothing?” you confirm.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Rafe says, nudging your hand away when you try to grab your own suitcase. He tucks a tendril of hair behind your ear, loose from how many times you’d pulled your hair back and tugged it down and pulled it back again. “I think even if we paid these last-minute prices, nothing is going home in these storms. I’d hate for us to end up halfway, spending Thanksgiving at some airport hotel in Atlanta.”

You nod in understanding, and he can tell you’re mentally picturing it, adjusting your hold on the bag over your shoulder, attempting to keep your head high. “How dare you not control the weather, Rafe Cameron.”

“You know I would if I could,” he answers easily. “Are you okay?”

Waiting to fly home until only the day before Thanksgiving had been a risky move in general, but you had an important meeting yesterday you just couldn’t get out of. Big wigs flying in from other offices, with no regard to their employees’ travel plans over the holiday weekend. So flying out first thing Wednesday had been the best bet to make it just in time for Kelce’s party (while really pushing it—like, Rafe saw you put your makeup in your carry-on bag pushing it) and of course for the actual holiday.

Rafe had been keeping an eye on the storms as soon as they’d been forecasted, hoping the reports would be wrong and you’d manage to make it anyway. Will had texted him a news clip and Rafe had downloaded so many weather apps it was ridiculous. And he didn’t want to worry you with any of this during the week of your presentation, but maybe managing your expectations would’ve broken the fall today.

Rafe didn’t much care for everything that came with being home for any holidays, and he already hates himself a little for the feeling of relief he knows he’ll get as soon as he lets Ward know he’s not coming. But he cared for you more than he cared about any of that. And you wanted to be home.

You shrug, biting your bottom lip in a way that screams self-preservation. The airport’s a zoo, people are yelling and babies are crying, announcements of cancellations and gate changes blast through the crackly speakers.

“I don’t know yet,” you answer. “But can we leave?”

Rafe leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go home.”

—

On the drive home from the airport, the two of you picked the dogs right back up from where you had left them only a few hours ago, meant to stay with one of Rafe’s friends, Stephen, for the weekend.

It wasn’t until Rafe had tucked you in on the couch with a chunky knit blanket and one dog in your lap and the other at your feet that your walls finally started to come down. The realization must have began to sink in that this might be it this year—you, Rafe, Sadie and Captain on the couches, eating whatever take-out sounded the best and was actually open.

“I’m gonna call my mom,” you say to break the silence, digging for your phone in the pile of fur and yarn.

“Maybe… let’s start with your dad,” Rafe suggests gently, causing a tiny smile to force its way onto your face. He’s standing in front of you, and you take his hand when it reaches out toward you, giving it a grateful squeeze before turning back to your phone.

“She’s gonna call me as soon as he tells her anyway, and I just wanna get it over with,” you say certainly, squeezing his hand one more time before pressing your phone to your ear.

Rafe waits before you as your mom answers the phone after only a few rings, not really sure what his best move might be, but knowing it wouldn’t be anything that takes him away from you.

“Mom,” you finally say, your face crumpling immediately. “Our flight got cancelled. No, we won’t make it. We tried so hard—there’s this stupid storm, Mom—”

You cut yourself off because of the lump in your throat, but Rafe doesn’t take the phone from you until you press it into his hand, walking off with Captain trailing behind you and Sadie watching you go over the back of the couch.

“Mrs. Y/l/n?” Rafe says, trying his best to be heard over her never-ending monologue. “It’s Rafe.”

“Rafe? What happened? What does she mean you aren’t coming?” your mom asks. Rafe can picture her, crystal clear, a hand on her hip in the dining room, wearing a cashmere sweater as she checks the table is perfectly laid for tomorrow’s festivities. “Ha! This is a joke. Was she joking?”

“No,” Rafe says. “I wish she was. But the airport was brutal. That storm is gonna nail the Carolinas all weekend, and there’s just no way we’ll get through it. I promise we tried everything, and we’re really gonna miss you guys this year.”

It’s quiet for a while on the other end, and all of his friends who were afraid of their girlfriends’ fathers should be glad they’ll never have to deal with Shannon.

“I’m passing the phone to her father,” she finally says after a momentary silence. “I can’t hear this. Actually, I won’t.”

Rafe balks at this. “Wait—”

“Rafe? What’s going on?”

Rafe sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. That now pointless early-morning wakeup was starting to get to him. “Hi. Mr. Y/l/n. I’m sorry. I don’t know how much you heard, but our flight got cancelled.”

Your dad hums, and Rafe can picture Will, too, probably in a pair of sweatpants and fresh off of a conference call, poking his head out of his office at the sound of your mom’s concern. He’s suddenly struck by the fact that he actually is gonna miss seeing both of them this weekend, prodding questions aside.

“I was really hoping you guys would miss the weather,” Will says, sounding a lot calmer than your mom at least. Rafe wonders if he hadn’t filled your mom in on this possibility either.

“It sounds like everything going back East just collapsed. We can’t get in through Florida, Boston, New York. Anything, ” Rafe explains. He cranes his neck to hopefully see up the stairs, but you’d disappeared into the bedroom, so that’s where Rafe heads. “I swear I tried everything I could think of to get us out there, Mr. Y/l/n. It just isn’t happening.”

“I’m sure you did,” Will says. “Don’t worry about that. We’re gonna miss you both.”

“We’ll miss you, too,” Rafe says, his heart dropping when you emerge from the ensuite bathroom with tears still streaming down your face.

“But really. Nothing?” Will presses, last-ditch effort evident in his tone. “I doubt the plane will be much help, but you know we’d spot your tickets.”

“And I might have actually let you if I could be sure it’d get us there,” Rafe says, welcoming you into his one open arm, pressing a kiss into your hairline when your hand grabs at his shirt.

“Alright,” Will sighs. “Put my daughter on the phone now, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

—

Rafe had barely left your side since the two of you returned home, letting you cry it out in his arms once you finished talking with your dad, not hearing any apology you had about your display of emotions, the fact that your stupid work commitment had been the catalyst for all of this.

And then fell asleep for a little, waking from the nap you had planned to be taking on the plane today after your ungodly wake-up time this morning only when you heard him on the phone with his own family. That phone call seemed a lot shorter and a lot less emotional than yours, so you knew he must have been talking to Ward.

“Are you a relieved at all?” you ask him, before you're even fully awake, picking at one of the buttons on his henley as he finished up his call.

“Honestly?” he says, putting his phone on the side table by the bed before rolling onto his side and facing you. “Yeah, a little. But I’d rather deal with your mom’s friends asking us when we’re getting married than see you this upset.”

“I more meant with Ward.”

“Ward’s a known entity,” he says casually, but you know he’s probably glad to be off the hook. You hated traveling back home on your own, but you knew Rafe’s little storm cloud would reappear the moment you touched the dock. “I never had to deal with the Island Club ladies confronting me at the pharmacy and the grocery store about when I’m ‘finally settling down’ before you.”

“Maybe they’ll think we’re actively eloping instead,” you say. “I’ll post a beach picture so everyone thinks we’re in Hawaii or something.”

“Maybe you wear something white,” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

Silence stretches between the two of you, your jokes as a coping mechanism disappearing as quickly as they came.

“How can I make it better, baby girl?” Rafe asks.

“Get your pilot license like you’ve been talking about for years so you can fly us through this storm before Kelce’s party tonight.”

“I texted him while you were asleep,” Rafe says. “I was gonna tell him to take it easy on you when you called to cancel, but he’s not gonna make it home either.”

“No,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow suddenly. “What?”

“Yeah,” Rafe confirms. “He did the same runaround. He told me he just barely made it onto a flight this morning, but they deplaned right before they were supposed to take off.”

“Hmph,” you groan, the visual of your best friend alone in his high-rise apartment on his favorite day of the year making you feel even worse. You’ll have to call him eventually and bully his plans for the holiday out of him so you can make sure he’ll at least be treating himself to some nice take-out and calling his mom.

None of this was right. You should all be three sheets to the wind at one of your favorite bars right now, or trying to sneak into Gretchen’s basement without a lecture from her dad that you’re all way too old for before the pregame. You should have spent the evening doing your makeup while Rafe sits on the tub in your bathroom and watches, fetching things from your suitcase when you need them, refilling your wine and nodding along to all of the island gossip you’d been able to catch up on.

You should be gossiping in the kitchen with your mom, with Rose, with Sarah and Wheezie, while Rafe gets his fix of time with your father and serves his sentence of time with his own, respectively. Rafe should be whispering wisecracks about your little brother’s douchey boyfriend that’s somehow managed to hang around for this long in your ear during cocktail hour, and you should be shaking your head in disbelief as John B regales you with another insane story about his antics with his friends.

You should have gotten out of that meeting, the one that went extremely well that you can’t even be happy about anymore. You knew Rafe wanted to ask about it, but after dinner with some higher-ups you’d raced home and thrown yourself into the last-minute packing before passing out.

You should be almost anywhere but where you are, but at least you’re still with Rafe.

“I know,” Rafe says. “I know it sucks. I wish I could fix it, baby.”

“Again, I find it so rude you can’t control the weather or fly us through it yourself. I’ll be sure to require that when I’m scouting for my next boyfriend,” you say.

“And when might that be?”

“Probably after the holidays, when I have the time.”

You squeal when Rafe’s hands grab at your middle, his fingers digging in until you’re pressed as close to him as you can be. Captain jumps on the bed, worming his way in between you two.

“You say something so mean when you know I can’t be mad at you,” Rafe says against the shell of your ear.

You giggle, humming contentedly when he presses a kiss to your neck. “You love me.”

“I do.”

“So,” you say.

“So,” he echoes.

“We called our parents, you talked to Kelce,” you say.

“Did you text the girls?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, reaching for your phone and swiping through what had come in since you fell asleep. “And Dylan’s been blowing me up, so my parents must have told him.”

“At least we don’t have to sit through a meal with Everett,” Rafe says, cracking a smile at your offended look. “Come on. I’m sorry, but your brother’s boyfriend sucks.”

Everett does suck, and you’ll collect all of the silver linings where you can get them. No Ward, no Everett, no Chloe and no Griffin.

“I wonder who would’ve had the guest house this year.”

“If your mom gave it to me again, we might have had to brave my dad’s,” Rafe says.

“What’d your dad say? On the phone earlier?”

“That he’ll miss us. He sends his best, said he knew you’d be upset,” Rafe says. “And that Rose will miss your pumpkin pie. I wanna call my sisters and John B tomorrow when they’re done with dinner.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you sigh, taking note of the rest of the texts from your friends, sending hearts and crying faces in the group chat when Topper complained about how the OBX is a ghost town this week and Blythe couldn’t join him later like they’d planned. He must have gone home earlier, what you wish you would’ve done. “We have to call Kelce, too. Maybe we can try to eat dinner at the same time with him on FaceTime.”

“Oh yeah. What do even wanna eat?” Rafe asks.

You groan, rolling onto your back. “My grandma’s peach pie.”

“Fuck,” Rafe answers. “I forgot about that.”

“It might be fun to do a small spread,” you venture to say. “I mean, I don’t know what the store will look like at this point. But do you think we could put something together?”

Rafe nods, and you can already see the grocery list forming in his head. He grabs the notepad he keeps beside the bed seconds later; your boyfriend might be the last person on earth who doesn’t use the app on his phone. “‘Course we can, even if we have to fight someone for the last sweet potato.”

You sit up in excitement, an idea forming. “Should we invite people over?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, tapping the back of his pen against the pad. “Like who?”

“I don’t know. Anyone who’s around?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Really? It’s okay if it’d be too much, we can totally just cook for two, or order in, or—”

“I love that you said ‘we’ can cook,” Rafe says. “You know you’re just going to take up counter space.”

You snatch the pad of paper out of his hands, hitting him on the arm with it. “I’ll set the table and straighten up the house, I promise.”

“And you’ll do it so well,” Rafe says, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m also putting you in charge of alcohol and rounding up the misfits.”

“I can do that,” you say, watching him continue to scrawl out ingredients for whatever he plans to cook while you take up counter space just like he said.

You’ve been thinking all morning about how Stephen didn’t seem to have any plans this weekend, and about any of your local friends who also couldn’t get a flight out today. Even with a lot of them out of town, you’re hopeful you can partially fill up a table.

“Are we actually doing this, Rafe?”

“If I head to the store now, do you think you can call me with a headcount in the next hour? Do I need to get anything to help the table look pretty?”

“Yes. And no,” you say, already jumping up. “I have tons of stuff in the garage. I’ll just need help getting the boxes down. Oh, we might even get to bring in the extra chairs!”

“Then I think we’re doing this, Y/l/n.”

—

The two of you got barely any sleep last night. You’d shoved as many chairs as possible around your tiny dining room table, Rafe’s hand was cramping from the amount of potatoes he’d peeled, and you had several breakdowns about the tablescapes—and Rafe can’t remember the last time he had a better Thanksgiving.

You’ve been practically buzzing around the house the last 24 hours, cleaning the entire house top to bottom, calling or texting anyone you could think of that might be alone today, handling any stressful part of this with the biggest smile on your face.

Rafe doesn’t know how you managed to fill the table up as much as you did, to the point where one of your guests, Ms. Sanchez from two doors down—who always made sure to get your mail and water your plants while you were away—had to bring over a pair of extra chairs she had. Beside her is your friend from college Meredith, plus the guy she’s now dating, Henry. Beside them—and this one really threw Rafe for a loop, because he had no idea how you even managed to wrangle them—were two interns he used to work with during his time at Beau’s company, Sasha and Chase. They must have been as disinterested as you and Rafe were by the invite to Beau and Agnes’ gigantic, catered spread. Across the table is Stephen, who did in fact have nowhere to go today, and was extremely grateful to make the cut.

“This is enough food,” you say out loud, taking into account everything Rafe had managed to whip up, plus any of the dishes others had brought. “This is enough food, right? Or should I run back out really quick and—”

“It’s enough, baby,” Rafe assures you. “If anything, your gigantic charcuterie gave us a nice cushion.”

Despite Rafe’s jokes, you had been a huge help in the kitchen today—about as huge as you could be before Ms. Sanchez, the first to arrive, had shooed you away and taken the metaphorical reins from Rafe’s hands. He was glad to give them, and he can’t even believe how much food they’d managed to fix up on such short notice.

“No, yeah, you’re right. It’s enough. There’s eight of us—this is plenty for eight. And thank god Meredith brought that champagne, or—”

The doorbell chimes again like it had been all day, the noise breaking through the sound of charmingly awkward small talk and the playlist you’d curated into the wee hours of the morning while Rafe finished following your pumpkin pie recipe.

“I’ll get it,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, pulling back with your eyebrows furrowed. You readjust your hair, brushing invisible crumbs off of your sweater. “Although, I have no clue who it is at this point.”

“Tell them to pull up a chair,” Rafe says casually. He finishes stirring the mashed potatoes just in time to peek his head around the doorway leading out of the kitchen, just barely catching the look on your face when you open the door.

“What the hell?” you ask, your arms thrown around Kelce in a grip that looks bone-crushing a millisecond. “Why are you at my house? Why are you here?”

Kelce laughs, and Rafe catches his nod, a smile on his own face now. “You didn’t actually think you could do Thanksgiving without me, did you?”

“But how did you… what? Oh my god. Rafe, Rafe! Look who…” you trail off, and Rafe smiles proudly, accepting another kiss to the cheek once you tug Kelce into the kitchen. “You did this.”

“I mean…” he shrugs. Kelce doesn’t skip the decimated charcuterie board on his way into the kitchen, fist bumping Rafe only after collecting the last few pieces of cheese.

“Nailed it,” Kelce says. “But a little upset she didn’t cry.”

“If it helps, I don’t think she had any left in her after thinking about you ordering take-out all alone.”

You look between the two of them, shaking your head in disbelief as Kelce kisses your check. “How did you even get out here? I checked flights this morning. There’s still nothing.”

“Nothing going home. But there’s plenty of flights coming here,” Kelce says. “And your boyfriend even split the price for the extra legroom seat with me.”

You hug Kelce tightly one more time before you start the rounds introducing him to everyone around the table, and he slots in as easily as someone like Kelce would be expected to, finding a seat between Stephen and Ms. Sanchez and a full glass of wine in front of him in no time, still in his plane clothes and everything.

Rafe wipes his brow with the towel over his shoulder, before shutting the timer off on the oven and pulling the last dish out. He hears you come back into the kitchen, not turning when he hears you re-enter the kitchen.

“I think we’re about ready to eat—”

Rafe’s nearly knocked off balance by the way your arms encircle his neck, and his next worry after regaining his footing is that you might be about to cry again. You’d been doing so well on tears this morning, but only after the obligatory FaceTimes with both of your families had came and went.

“You,” you say simply, pulling back. “You made this the best back-up Thanksgiving ever.”

“Baby,” Rafe says shyly. “Everyone in there is all you.”

“But you made all of this food, and you even got Kelce here, and really, Chase and Sasha technically, and—”

“We,” Rafe amends. “Yeah?”

“We,” you agree, and Rafe can see it written all over your face. This won’t be the last time you host Thanksgiving, and it might not even be the last time you do it in this house. The two of you are gonna have a million chances to have days like this one, to invite anyone you care for, to make the best out of a really shitty situation.

You and Rafe were a family now; you’d been his home for years.

There was no Thanksgiving Eve blowout to leave you severely hungover this morning, no unruly or annoying younger siblings to tame on behalf of your parents. No moments between you and Wheezie making his heart melt, or between him and his father the make him yearn for your touch cross the room.

But Rafe knows he’ll have a more solid answer the next time he’s home and one of your mom’s gossipy friends asks when he’ll finally get around to proposing. And he hopes you happen to be at his side, his answer already evident with the jewelry adorning your left ring finger.

“Rafe?” you say, passing a plate off to Meredith, who’d come into the kitchen to help set the table.

“Sorry,” Rafe says, shaking his head, leaning in for one last kiss. “What did you say?”

“I was just… my meeting. It went really well. And I wanna tell you about it after dessert, okay?” you ask.

“Baby, that’s great,” he says, reaching around you to hand Henry a few hot pads. “I wanna hear everything.”

“You will,” you say, grabbing the last basket of bread and Rafe’s hand. “Now let’s eat.”

#new light hcs #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

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avatarmerida · 1 year

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The image: Hunter and Willow aren’t sitting together, obviously no Huntlow content

My brain: Well actually that makes it even more Huntlow you see

———

“Come on dude, the movies is the perfect place to make your move!” Gus said, giving Hunter a gentle nudge in the ribs as the girls lined up over at the concession stand.

“Gus, Camila paid good snails for these tickets to the cinema and being distracted during the film would be rude to her act of kindess,” explained Hunter, his eyes darting to the girls, making sure they did not hear him. “Please switch seats with me.”

“I’m preeeeetty sure Willow picked her seat on purpose to sit by you,” said Gus. “What, don’t you wanna hold her hand during the scary parts?”

Hunter’s face turned a deep crimson. “Of course I wanna hold her hand.” He mumbled quietly. “But I don’t want her to think I’m scared and I don’t want her to think that I think she’s scared.”

“Maybe she’ll just think you’re holding her hand because you like holding hand.”

“Well that also seems very rude because then how is she supposed to hold her popped corn? If I hold her hand then she won’t be able to enjoy it during the movie!”

“Well, you could always just put your arm around her,” suggested Gus, raising his eyebrow.

Hunter’s eyes went wide at the suggestion. The variables raced through his mind, the idea didn’t seem unpleasant at all. But there were too many variables. He might accidentally hit her popcorn with his arm as he raised and knock it to the ground and make a mess or his armpits might be sweaty or she might misinterpret him extending his arm as part of a yawn and think he was bored and she had seemed so excited about this movie what if she thought he hated it? Or what if when he put his arm around her, she scooted closer to him rested her head on his shoulder and he forgot how to breath? And then what if-

“Dude I think you’re overthinking this too much,” said Gus, interrupting Hunter’s spiraling train of thought.

“I think I’m thinking about it a normal amount,” said Hunter, not fully believing himself. “Besides, Willow likes to discuss the movie on the ride home and what if she wants to discuss a moment that I missed because I was too preoccupied thinking about holding her hand? How am I supposed to explain that? I can only sit by Willow at the movies if I’ve already seen the movie so that when she wants to talk about it she won’t suspect I was paying attention to her and not the screen.”

“Have you... done that before?” Gus asked, recalling the pair had gone to see a movie just last week. Willow told him Hunter had bought them tickets to a special screening of a nature documentary but had accidentally bought their seats with a seat between them. No one was sitting there but every time Willow tried to move close to him or tell him to fill the empty seat, he got flustered and said something about breaking the rules and getting kicked out of the theater. She used the empty space to store the pop bucket so she could ‘accidentally’ brush his hand when they both went for a piece, but he politely declined her offer to share. Willow noticed he kept looking at her, as though wanting to comment on the movie but had been shushed once by a few low viewer and feared breaking the social contact the previews gave against talking during the film. Willow has told Gus that she had thought that maybe Hunter didn’t want her to interpret it as a date but Gus could see now that a Hunter was just paranoid. He made a mental note to tell Willow to buy the tickets next time it was just the two of them going and see if that changed anything.

But for now he would let Hunter takes notes on things he wanted to discuss with Willow, impressing her with his attention to detail.

“Whatever you say dude,” said Gus, shaking his hand and switching tickets with the older boy. “What do you want me to say if she asked why we switched seats?”

“Tell her... you wanted to sit by her in case it got too scary and her presence makes you feel safe.”

“Pshh, you know I don’t scare that easily,” scoffed Gus, suspecting it was one of the reasons Hunter wanted to sit with her as he came up with the reason surprisingly quick. “I’ll just tell her it’s because I wanna share her snacks. Willow snuck some in from home in her purse.”

For some reason the very idea of Willow sneaking in contraband made Hunter swoon. There was no way he’d be able to sit next to her and act normally now. This was for the best.

“Besides, it’s a human movie,” scoffed Gus as the girls walked over with their drinks. “How scary could it possibly be?”

#huntlow #Hunter toh #willow park #Gus porter #toh #the owl house

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maithefluffychicken · 7 months

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WIP WEDNESDAY

Steve takes Eddie on a fancy cruise, you know, as friends.

“Come on, Eds, you’re my best friend,” Steve says, his face doing some weird shit that Eddie doesn’t like at all, as if Eddie hurt him by implying he wouldn’t like to go with Eddie to a fancy, expensive cruise.

“Robin is your best friend-”

“No, Robin is my soulmate, we’re separated-at-birth twins,” Steve answers easily. “And Dustin is like the little brother I never had, before you ask me. That gives you the noble title of Steve Harrington’s Best Friend. You should know that by now, Eds, it’s been years.”

Eddie looks at Steve feeling like a complete moron.

“So, are you coming with me or what? I need to book the tickets to Boston on time.”

“Yeah- Yes! Let’s do it, baby! Let’s go on a fancy cruise together! You sure you don’t want to take Robin with you, though?”

“Nah, she hates ships, and this could be like, a dudes’ thing, you know?” Steve says, blushing fiercely, and Eddie tries to ignore it.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie asks, half laughing.

“Dunno,” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s eyes now. “We can talk with pretty girls there, get laid, who knows, right? It’s a cruise, anything could happen.”

Eddie’s heart turns ice cold and sinks to the bottomless pit of desperation and despair that is the core of his body when hearing those words.

“Yeah,” Eddie is far less enthusiastic now. “Yeah, we can do all those things.”

Tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

Please, everyone who wants to join, jump the WIP train! I don't know who to tag, so please feel free! 💛💛💛💛💛💛

#steddie fanfiction #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie loves steve #steve loves eddie

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atinylittlepain · 3 months

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Miss Sylvia

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

word count | 1.7K

He's watching her cat for the weekend, how bad could it possibly be?

a/n | no warnings for this one, it's mostly just fluff

....................................

“I don’t know where she is.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said she was going to Boston for a funeral?”

“Not Andy, Sylvia.”

“Ballsack cat?”

“Rob, you can’t call her that. But, yeah, she hasn’t come out since Andy left.”

“You check under the bed?”

“Yes.”

“The closet?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t like, left any windows open or anything?”

“No, and she’s definitely still in here because her food bowl was empty this morning.”

“Okay, Sylvia wants her space then. What’s wrong with that?”

“She needs her bath.” Silence floods over the line for a beat, and just as Steve is about to ask Robin if she’s still there, she lobs a questioning come again, over the phone.

“You can’t laugh.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

“Sylvia gets a bath every Saturday. It’s Saturday.”

“Oh my god, Steve.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” And that just sends Robin into another peel of it, a wheezed out sorry, I’m sorry while he tries not to hang up on her altogether.

“Wow, you really, really like this one, huh? Giving a cat a bath for love is a first for me, man.”

“She has a skin condition. Andy said she gets, like, crusty.”

“She is a cat. And also, ew, I didn’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, but she’s Andy’s cat, and I told her I could handle it.” That’s the crux of the whole thing, isn’t it? Andy had gotten a phone call from her mother, something about a relative that she wasn’t close with, but of course, yes, she needed to be there. Big family, big, Boston family full of aunts and cousins and mothers that would talk if the youngest didn’t show up so she had better show up, damn it. So Andy bought a train ticket and talked to her professors and before she could get too stressed out about who was going to take care of the madam, Steve was already volunteering himself, I can, honey, no problem. Right, no problem, except for the fact that his relationship (don’t laugh) with his girlfriend’s cat could be described as tepid at best, tolerance, with the occasional swipe, spat, snit, don’t touch just when he starts to think Sylvia is warming up to him. For the record, the feeling is mutual. Something Eddie had said the first time he came over to watch some MTV unplugged performance him and Andy were both excited about. Steve had laughed, Andy had not, when Eddie met Sylvia and promptly called her a sentient raw chicken breast. No, Andy did not find that particularly amusing, and Sylvia in her own seeming display of indignation, had swiped hard at Eddie’s ankles until he finally had to resort to tucking his feet up under him on the couch.

He thought this would be his chance at burying the hatchet, bonding (again, don’t laugh), a sort of extended exposure therapy for the both of them. But by the time he got back from seeing Andy off at the station, Sylvia had made herself scarce, and he hasn’t seen her in the twenty-four hours that he has been, in theory, Sylvia-sitting at Andy’s apartment.

“Did you check in drawers?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a cat growing up who liked to sleep in my mom’s sock drawer, maybe Sylvia is the same way.”

“Cats do that? No, I don’t think Sylvia does that, how would she even get in there in the first place?”

“Hey, anything’s possible, cats are smart, especially little freaks like Andy’s.”

“You really think so?”

“It’s worth looking, at least.” And so he does, hangs up with Robin, and opens every drawer in the apartment, only feeling a little like a perv when his brain gets stuck and stilted on a pair of cherry red cotton panties that he definitely hasn’t seen before. But nothing, no sign of Sylvia anywhere, and he’s starting to get worried, starting to rework every time he opened and closed the front door in the last day, wondering if there’s any possibility she could’ve slipped through. No again, though, he reminds himself of her empty food bowl. She’s definitely here, and she definitely doesn’t want to be found. And a cool flicker of panic, and maybe guilt, is starting to tighten in his chest, though he’s quick to start rationalizing. Really, one missed bath can’t cause that much damage, right? Not going to know the difference, right? And really, maybe Robin was right, Sylvia just wants her–

“Oh shit.” The sound of a cabinet slamming in the kitchen sends a startled jolt up his spine, followed fast by a flood of relief because he’s pretty sure he knows what, or who, or yeah, what made that noise.

Maybe, maybe he does a silent fist pump in the air when he creeps into the kitchen and spots a spindly, hairless tail sticking out from one of the cabinets above the counter. And maybe, when he inches open the cabinet and finds Sylvia slumped awkward in a mixing bowl, her eyes narrowing on him, maybe, he apologizes for Robin calling her a little freak. But that’s neither here nor there, because her bath is back on, and when he picks up the whole mixing bowl with her still in it, she doesn’t flee, doesn’t swipe, or hiss, or otherwise snit at him, just lets out a garbled sound that only seems a little disgruntled as he carries her into the bathroom.

“Look, I don’t really wanna be doing this either, okay? But your, well– I told Andy I would take care of you, and she left me instructions, so, yeah, let’s, uh, let’s giddy up.” He feels less like a cat-sitter and more like a basketball coach trying to psych a team up, bathroom door closed, and bathtub filling up, and Andy’s hand-written instructions clutched in one hand like a prayer. Sylvia stares at him, placid and unmoved, still in the mixing bowl that he perched on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

And what follows is about as graceless as he had expected it to be. He tries to pick her up and finally, she hisses, one cursory swipe that gets him on the back of his hand, noted. So he moves slower, long pets that turn into a curled hand around her middle, and then his other hand, and she only twists and twines a little, rumbling protests that die out when he sets her down in the water. He hadn’t really believed Andy when she told him that Sylvia likes getting baths, but he believes it now, because at the very least, she’s no longer trying to draw blood from him, the spiked snarl of her spine starting to soften and relax.

“Jesus Christ, you really are a raw chicken breast.” She pays him no mind, her bulged eyes closed in something he thinks looks like contentment while he lathers her with Johnson’s baby soap, tear free. If this were a test, he thinks he’d pass with flying colors, double checking Andy’s instructions between each step, even using the exfoliating gloves she left folded over the lip of the tub, tail to toe, while Sylvia makes a noise that he’s pretty sure counts as purring. And when she’s clean, and he picks her up out of the tub and rubs her down with the towel that Andy explicitly told him is her towel, he thinks they’ve made some sort of progress. The final note on the list of instructions, she likes to marinate for a little while. So he leaves the bathroom door open, Sylvia burrowed down in her towel right in front of the heating vent.

He’s nearly certain he’s having some kind of low-grade heart attack, if that’s a thing, when he wakes up later that night to a particular heat and weight spread over his chest. But then he realizes that said heat and weight is purring, and digging her claws into his shoulder in a way that is not altogether unkind. Yeah, he thinks, he finally passed this test.

Andy gets home late on Sunday, wind-swept and worn, and relieved to see him waiting for her at the station, smacks a dramatic kiss to his lips and pulls away to pout something awful at him.

“Is it too pathetic to say that I missed you?” No, he says, missed you too, he says, pathetic too, though he doesn’t say that. And later, back at her place, after dinner and a shower and settled down on the couch, he tries hard to school his expression when Andy’s jaw drops, watching Sylvia leap up onto the couch and curl contentedly in his lap, chin resting on his knee.

“Oh, do you two have something to tell me?”

“I think we bonded.”

“Yeah, I can see that. So you’re a two-woman kind of guy now?” It becomes apparent fast that they both spoke too soon, because before he can reply, Sylvia is whipping around and swiping hard at his hand that had been stroking her spine, promptly followed by digging her back legs into his stomach in order to launch herself off the couch to another one of her hiding spots.

“Aw baby, it looks like you’re not getting a second date with Miss Syl.” Andy’s words dissolve with her laughter, taking his abused hand in both of hers, thumbing lightly at the welting scratch marks. He can’t even find it in himself to be upset.

“I just want to know, is she like that with everyone?”

“Mmm, no, she’s only like that with people she really likes.”

“See, you say that, but I’m having a hard time believing it.”

“The fact that you still have all your fingers attached and accounted for after bath day is all the evidence I need. She’s smitten, she just has a hard time expressing herself.” Waggle of her eyebrows and another breathed-out laugh and his yeah, I’ll say, making her laugh a little more, scooting closer to him on the couch, her legs slung across his thighs and her spine curled so she can lean in closer, closer, her nose brushing against his.

“Hi.”

“Thank you for watching her so last-minute, baby. I appreciate it, appreciate you.” Her hand curled at his nape, kisses like secrets to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, in between his brows and making him flush in an awful heat. He mumbles an of course, any time, and means it, pulling her even closer, perfect relief to an aching want, having her back, having her home.

He’ll keep working on Sylvia.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington au #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst

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steddio · 1 year

Text

steddie vegas au part 5

part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; ao3

(throws angst at you and runs)

Eddie wakes languidly, comfortable and sated. Last night had been far more than he’d let himself dream of when he’d handed Steve those tickets. Performing for Steve had felt like performing for the first time again, every lyric more meaningful, every guitar chord more sensual. Steve was magnetic, beautiful, addicting. Not to mention incredibly hot in bed. This train of thought brings Eddie’s awareness to his morning wood, and he turns, reaching for Steve. Only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty.

His stomach sinks with a jolt, and he sits up, looking around for Steve in the bathroom, listening for him anywhere else in the suite. It’s empty, and Steve’s clothes are gone from the floor. Eddie tries not to panic. Maybe Steve is a morning person, maybe he went for a run. But there’s no note anywhere, and when Eddie checks his phone there’s no text from Steve.

He feels tears well and tries to force them away. This is fine. He’s woken up alone before. There could be a thousand explanations. It doesn’t mean that he wasn’t good enough, that Steve suddenly hates him, that he got what he wanted and left, that–. He interrupts his own catastrophizing, anchors himself in his breath (Sharon should be proud of him for using that CBT shit). He briefly debates letting himself wallow in bed but decides that will serve no one and goes to take a shower. As much as he doesn’t want to wash the traces of Steve off his body, he’s a little bit (ok a lot) gross from performing and sex.

When he emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a delightfully fluffy hotel robe, he can hear rustling in the living room. He dashes out of the bedroom with a breathless, “Ste-” before he stops in his tracks, realizing that it’s Chrissy instead. She’s in her same clothes from last night and she looks at him with concern and worse, pity.

“Steve’s gone,” he tells her brusquely. She nods, like she already knows this, and touches his arm gently.

“Eddie, honey, there’s something you need to see.”

He tries not to react as his body fills with dread. Chrissy holds her phone out to him and he takes it. It’s opened to a tabloid site, and Eddie wants to scoff, because there’s no way the tabloids could do anything worse than how they covered every step of his addiction, his recovery journey, his messy breakup, and his relapse. He’s basically immune to it by now, just the counterweight to fame. But as he skips past the headline and straight to the photo, his soul leaves his body. Because sure, that’s him, whatever. But in front of Eddie, with his back to the camera, is unmistakably Steve. Dorky dad with a great ass, concierge, regular person Steve. Who never asked for all the shit that Eddie’s lifestyle brings with it.

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie groans. “Did he see this?”

Chrissy just looks at him. Of course. Of course Steve had seen this. No wonder he’d run, why would he want this, no sex is good enough to be worth losing your privacy.

“I was, um, with Robin last night,” Chrissy tells him. He tries to paste on a smile, to congratulate her, and then realizes she’s not bragging.

“And?” Eddie prompts. “Chris, I can handle it. Just tell me.”

“Well,” Chrissy hedges. “Robin saw the photo and kind of freaked out. I tried to explain that this is normal, that the tabloids always do things like this, but she kept trying to call Steve. I think–” she trails off.

Eddie is on edge, but tries to keep breathing, to give her space. Finally, she continues, “I think Steve’s daughter saw the photo and recognized him. Robin wouldn’t say much, but she was freaking out about that specifically, said that Steve couldn’t afford another, um.”

“Another what?!” Eddie is full-on freaking out at this point.

“Well, fuck-up. Is the word she used.”

Eddie finally gives in and lets the tears that have been building fall. Of course Steve would think of him as a fuck-up. A mistake. Steve was so good, so clean. And it was Eddie who had pushed and pushed, trying to get Steve to drop the professionalism, to let go, to play with him. Of course he had pushed too far. It’s what he does, he can’t leave things alone.

Chrissy stands on the couch, wraps her arms around his neck, and tucks his head against her chest, making soothing noises. He can’t even muster the strength to hug her back, just stands there crying, probably ruining her shirt like he ruins everything. They stay like that for a long moment, Chrissy rocking him gently.

When the tears finally subside, Eddie feels raw and swollen, like an open wound. He wordlessly climbs back into bed and throws a pillow over his face, wanting to lose himself in the obliviousness of sleep. But of course, sleep doesn’t come easily. Instead he lies awake replaying every moment from the night before. The way Steve’s eyes had gone from huge in awe to half-lidded in bliss. The way the sweat on his neck had tasted. The hair on his belly, his large hands in Eddie’s hair, his toothy smile. By the time he finally drifts to sleep, he’s half-hard and more than half-hating himself.

He wakes up to Chrissy sitting on the side of his bed, handing him a chilled bottle of water. He forces himself to sit upright and drinks it all down in one go. His stomach rumbles in response and he realizes he hasn’t eaten since dinner last night.

“What time is it?” he mumbles to Chrissy.

“It’s nearly three,” she tells him. “I ordered you lunch, it should be here soon.”

“Have I ever told you I love you,” he says solemnly. Her soft smile sends a pang through his heart. What would he do without her? He reaches for his phone, hardly letting himself hope, but there’s no text from Steve.

“Do you think I should–” he starts to ask, then stops. Looks at Chrissy with pleading eyes. She shakes her head.

“I don’t know, hon. I texted Robin once I got back this morning, and she says that Steve might just need time.”

“Do you think he’s… okay?” Even hurting like he is, Eddie can’t help but worry. Chrissy is stopped from answering the question by a knock on the door. She goes to open it, then brings Eddie’s lunch to him so he can eat it in bed.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells him. “Eat.”

So he does. He swears a burrito bowl has never tasted so good, and he demolishes it in seconds, delighted when he realizes that Chrissy had also ordered him a churro for dessert. He’s just licking the cinnamon sugar off his fingers when Chrissy returns. Her brow is furrowed and he’s about to ask her what’s wrong when she blurts out, “Steve’s fine.”

He’s about to ask her how she knows when she says in a rush, “He’s at the concierge desk. He’s fine.”

The food he’d just eaten turns to lead in Eddie’s stomach. Steve is… at work. He’s fine, and at work, and he hasn’t texted Eddie. Because Eddie was a fuck-up. He wants to cry again but he feels numb, empty.

–

The numbness follows him through the next week. Through three video calls with Sharon, where they talk through breathing exercises and affirmations and mindfulness techniques. He’s numb through Saturday’s performance, through the massage appointment Chrissy set up for him on Sunday morning, and through five AA meetings.

He’s numb until he checks his phone on Tuesday night after their show and sees a text from Adrian, and is flooded with feeling, as if the dam holding back all the hurt and betrayal and anger and sadness finally broke. Adrian, his last boyfriend of nine months, who’d wanted so badly to be a fashion influencer, and who’d used Eddie as free exposure. Adrian, who three months ago, had gotten a contract with Dior and had promptly broken up with Eddie, telling him that Eddie was holding him back, that he wanted to follow his career, that he didn’t need Eddie anymore. Adrian, who had triggered Eddie’s relapse into drinking after eight years sober.

He almost deletes the text without opening it, but the masochist in him lets curiosity win.

Adrian: I see you’ve downgraded to someone who thinks light wash jeans are still cool. Pathetic.

Eddie hurls his phone across his dressing room. He feels pathetic, because the first thought that comes to mind is about how good Steve’s ass looked in those jeans. The second is a wave of self-loathing because Steve is anything but a downgrade. Steve is too good for Eddie, better than he deserves, a shooting star in the night that he was lucky to have seen.

It’s self-loathing that has Eddie jumping up, sliding into his shoes, and bending to scoop up his phone from the floor, relieved that it’s only cracked a little. He’s marinating in it as he leaves the room, steadfastly not thinking about when he had Steve pressed against the door, and he’s relishing in it when he starts making his way over to the lobby bar.

–

Steve opens and then closes his draft resignation letter for the fifth time in the last hour. He’d written it in a drunken blur on his day off yesterday, punctuated by crying bouts and skinny girl margarita straight out of the bottle. He loves his job, but if he has to spend one more day standing at a desk across from the elevator where he ruined his life he’s going to lose it.

He tries to mentally backtrack. It wasn’t the elevator incident that had ruined his life. Despite his initial panic about his family seeing the photo, they had been wholly accepting if not slightly amused that after so many years in Vegas, Steve had finally been caught in a mild celebrity scandal. No, the elevator incident had been a high point, an undeserved moment of bliss. What had ruined his life was Steve’s stupid fucking overreaction.

After leaving Eddie’s hotel room last week, he’d managed to drive himself home while dissociating and immediately called Nancy to apologize. She hadn’t picked up, and the longer he waited for her to call him back, the more he became convinced that the event that had driven him to Vegas, that had lost him his chance at a nuclear family, was happening all over again.

By the time his phone finally rang, Steve was curled in the fetal position on the floor. It had taken Nancy an hour to convince him he had nothing to apologize for and to coax him into bed, and she must have texted Robin, because he woke up in the early afternoon to Robin in bed next to him, stroking his hair. They’d facetimed Max, who, in her classic teenage way, had spent only a minute teasing Steve for the photo before rattling on about high school drama, reminding Steve that sometimes what feels like the end of the world is actually a minor, solvable issue.

He’d gone into work that evening determined to make things right with Eddie, but when Eddie finally came down to the lobby, he didn’t even look in Steve’s direction. When it happened again the next day, and then the next, Steve had resigned himself to the fact that Eddie wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe he’d even been glad that Steve had left in the morning, that he’d saved Eddie the trouble of asking Steve to leave. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed about their dirty little hotel secret getting out to the public?

He opens his resignation letter again. Changes the signature from Regretfully to Sincerely and then back again. He’s about to send it to the printer when the desk phone rings.

“Caesars Palace concierge, this is Steve, how can I help you?”

On the other end of the line, there’s a slight gasp and then silence. Steve waits a polite amount of time before repeating himself. When there’s still no answer, he breaks form and whispers, “Hello? Is anyone there?”

The only response is a hitch of breath. Maybe he’s delusionally hopeful, but Steve takes a chance. “Eddie?”

He hears a broken whisper in response. “Hi sugar.”

“Eddie, hi, sweetheart, are you okay? I’m so sorry I left, I freaked out, and then I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t get your attention, and–”

Eddie cuts him off with a pained “Stevie” that has every one of Steve’s parental instincts on edge.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He hears Eddie take a deep breath. “I’m at the bar.”

Steve’s stomach drops. “Oh. Okay. Did you– Did you order a drink?”

There’s a long silence. Then, “I did. But. I didn’t drink it. I think–” Eddie stops. Steve wants to scream into the phone, to run to the bar and grab the glass, throw it on the floor. But he forces himself to wait, to let Eddie take the lead.

“I think I need to go to a meeting,” Eddie finally mumbles, and Steve is launching into action, pulling up the AA meeting list, the document that had started it all.

“Okay, absolutely, I got you.” He scrolls frantically to the meetings on Tuesday and miraculously finds one starting soon. “Okay, Eddie, there’s a meeting in half an hour. We’re going to get you there.” When there’s nothing but silence and background chatter on the other end, Steve asks, “Are you there, sweetheart?”

“I’m here,” Eddie says weakly.

“Okay, Eds, do you want me to walk you to the meeting? We can go together.”

“No! No, I can’t–” Eddie hesitates. Steve wants to smack himself in the face. Why would Eddie want to be seen with him? After all the embarrassment he’d caused already.

“Okay, that’s fine, no problem. I’m going to give you directions over the phone, is that okay?” Steve barely catches a quiet “yes” in response.

“Alright, Eddie, I need you to stand up. I need you to walk away from the bar. Can you do that for me?” Steve hears rustling on the other end, and then Eddie’s voice comes through clearly. “I’m walking out.”

“Great, sweetheart, that’s great. You’re doing so well, that was the hardest part.” Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees a black-clad, curly-haired figure enter the lobby. He watches as Eddie makes his way slowly toward the front door of the hotel, looking determined, eyes never straying from his goal. His heart clenches in his chest like it does every time he’s seen Eddie from afar over the past few days, and it takes all his willpower to not run over to him.

“Okay keep going, Eddie, you’re going to go out the front door and turn left, and then walk two blocks.” Steve watches as Eddie follows his directions, listens to his quiet breathing over the phone.

“I’m outside,” Eddie tells him.

“How is it out there?” Steve asks to keep him talking. “Is it still hot as hell like earlier?”

Eddie tells him about the weather, about the slight breeze that’s picked up between the buildings now that the sun has gone down. For a moment his voice is drowned out by a siren, but when the noise fades Steve can hear his steady breathing and footsteps.

“Tell me where you are, Eds,” Steve probes gently. When Eddie tells him the cross street, Steve asks him about his surroundings, makes Eddie describe what he’s seeing to keep him grounded.

“Almost there, I need you to cross to the opposite corner and then turn right.” Steve can practically feel Eddie rocking nervously as he waits for each light, but he dutifully follows Steve’s directions, tells him about the older couple dressed like they’d walked out of the 1960s, about the mom pushing her crying baby in a stroller, about the glimpse of the moon he can see as he looks down a side street.

“You’re doing great, now we’re just looking for the rec center. It should be three blocks down on the left.” Eddie goes radio silent for a few minutes and Steve tries not to panic, listening to Eddie’s breathing to reassure himself.

Eventually he hears a quiet, “Steve? Are you there?” Steve tries to keep his relief out of his voice when he answers, “Yes, Eddie, I’m here. I’ll be here as long as you need me.” And he’s struck by how true that is, how he wants to be the person Eddie calls when he doesn’t want to be alone.

On the line, Steve hears a squeaky door open and then echoing footsteps. “I’m at the rec center,” Eddie says. “I see signs for the meeting, I’m going to follow them.”

“That’s, that’s good, sweetheart.” A moment later, Steve hears someone greet Eddie and usher him inside. He’s about to hang up, thinking Eddie no longer needs him, when he hears a sharp inhale.

“Sugar?” Eddie whispers into the phone. Before Steve can answer, he continues: “Thank you. Thank you so much.” And then hangs up.

Steve takes a moment to just stand there, still clutching the phone and holding back tears. Eventually he comes back into himself. Takes a deep breath. And drags his resignation letter into the trash.

continue to part 6.

read on ao3.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed! and sorry as always if tumblr eats your tag): @knightofthieves @exhibit-no-restraint @zerokrox-blog @nelotegreitic @samthemissfit @impeachy @mentallyundone @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx @ameliajwho1993 @abstractnaturaldisaster @hellomynameismoo @epiclazershark @dogswithforks @i-less-than-three-you @aveys6 @anaibis @sofadofax @sunswathe @paperbackribs @questionablequeeries @scarletzgo @mad-h-w @sherrylyn628 @the-redthread @harringrovefansblog @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @throwbackthrowaway @oxidantdreamboat @grtwdsmwhr @jamieweasley13 @raisedbylibrarians @bleach-the-kitten @estrellami-1 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @introvert-even-on-the-internet @awkwardgravity1 @mads-clarkson @huskysarelife @beckkthewreck @trikigirl271 @bejeweledbaby

#steddie #stranger things #steddie vegas au #i promise there will be a happy ending #we're almost there!#i hope you enjoy!!! ur nice comments keep me going #A writes

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starzzoey · 2 years

Text

The Contract

"You can't seriously expect us to sign this, making my wife work 4 years for you in one of your nightclubs." Arthur was furious, this was not how their honeymoon was supposed to go. They were meant to be relaxing by the pool, not being pressured to sign a contract to avoid prison time for false drug charges. Yet here they were in the large Mansion of a man calling himself El Rey or The King in english, paper and pen in front of them. "Well, if you want to go back to England and not spend time in a Mexican prison, I do expect you to sign it. Though don't worry, you can still visit her once I deem she has settled in. Now what will it be." El Rey took a puff of his Cigar as he responded to Arthur. His steely and serious gaze resting on the two honeymooners. Feeling there was no choice and much to Arthurs shock, Sarah took the pen and signed her name at the bottom of the contract. El Rey simply smiled as he pressed a button under his desk and two of his men came in. "Boys, please escort this gentlemen out, I believe he has a plane back to England to catch. Also tell the others to not disturb, His wife and I have a contract to discuss."

6 months later and Arthur returned to Mexico after recieving an envelope with a plane ticket and hotel info from El Rey. When he touched down, one of El Rey's men came to pick him up, they gave him enough time to freshen up in his room before being driven to one of El Rey's clubs La Rosa Rosa, The Pink Rose. When Arthur entered he was not expecting Sarah to be working in a place like this. He thought she'd be put to work in a regular nightclub but no this was your run of the mill strip club. He approached the bar praying that she was just a bartender or waitress but his heart sank when she was not the one serving him. So he resigned himself to ordering a Modelo and turned his attention to the stage. Waiting to see his wife. It took about 20 minutes but then she appeared. However his jaw just dropped. Announced to the stage as Sofia Cruz, The pale blonde was gone in her place was a tanned beauty with dyed black hair, enhanced lips and enhanced tits. El Rey completely altered her appearance to fit a more hispanic look. She owned the stage, oozing sensuality as she worked the pole. Sarah was always a quick learner but she looked like she had been doing this her whole adult life. As the Enrique Iglesias song she was dancing to finished and her 10 minute set ended, Arthur turned to the bartender to get a private dance with her. Not wanting to argue why, he chose the gringo compared to a true Mexican babe, The Bartender called Sarah over in spanish. "Sofia, este hombre blanco quiere un baile privado contigo!" Despite having barely any spanish fluency before, Sarah or rather Sofia saunted over, for a split second her sensual and sexual demenour dropped when she saw it was Arthur before quickly returning and guiding him to a private booth. "Private dances only last half an hour, so best say what we want to say fast. El Rey, has been pushing me hard, putting me through rigourous surgeries and training. I can't even speak any english unless the person who got a private dance speaks it. Which given the club is never until you." Just from her voice Arthur could tell, the 6 months had taken a toll, she was already starting to lose her english accent in place of a mexican one. The conversation they had consisted of asking how she was doing and if they treated her well. Sarah described her life under El Rey as living with a golden chain and collar around her neck. A prisoner kept in line under El Rey's harsh watch. Arthur tried to kiss his wife but Sarah stopped him. As much as she wanted to do the same, she knew they were being watched and didn't want either of them to get in trouble. She simply just continued to give Arthur the same sensual lap dance she gave every client who paid for a private dance with her. 30 minutes later, the dance was over and a security guard popped his head in the room "Sofía, el jefe te quiere en su oficina ahora. (Sofia, the boss wants you in his office now.)" and with that Sarah now Sofia left. Leaving Arthur to head back to his hotel room before heading back on a plane the next morning.

After that night, Arthur waited eagerly for another letter to come through the post with another set of plane tickets and hotel info but nothing came. At least not for another 3 years and 5 months. 1 week before the contract was officially over, Arthur got onto the plane back to Mexico and got into the car ready to be taken to the hotel and head to the club. However that was not where they going. Instead they went to the mansion where it all started, the Home of El Rey himself. Confused why he was brought here, he was greeted by the 50 something man in a white suit that reeked of cigar smoke and led into his office. "Cigar? Tequilla?" El Rey offfered both but Arthur only accepted the tequilla. "Why did you bring me here and not the club?" Arthur asked, no demanded. "Patience Arthur, I simply brought you here to explain that the contract has changed. I have simply grown to attached and invested too much into Sofia to let her just head off back to England." El Rey was calm as he spoke, puffing cigar smoke into the air. "That is not what the contract said, after 4 years Sarah would be done and heading back to England." Arthur was getting quite irate at El Rey's attitude and disregard to the contract. "I am the creator of said contract and I can change it how I want. I am the one with the money and power here not you." El Rey raised his voice and slammed his fist onto the desk. "Besides Sofia has changed too much to return to her old life. Don't believe me, see for yourself." El Rey called for the guards to call in Sofia. Arthur was confused, Sofia was here? However that confusion turned to shock when he saw Sarah. She had changed even more in the 3 and a half years since they last saw each other, if he didn't even know it was her, he would have just thought she was Mexican. There was no trace of the caucasian sarah there was only Sofia. She had more of a tan and her ass and thighs were much thicker. At least her hair was back to blonde albeit it was from dying her black hair blonde rather than just letting the black dye fade and return to her natural colour. "Sarah, what have they done to you. You look unrecognisable." Arthur tried to talk with her but he was just ignored as she sauntered her way over to El Rey before sensually sitting on his lap, he looked over to El Rey who had a rather sadistic smile on his face. "I'm afraid Sofia here will not respond to you. You see, she can only speak and understand spanish now. Oh and as you can see, even if she did understand you, she and I have grown rather... Attached." El Rey made sure to emphasise the name Sofia as he spoke. Arthur couldn't believe what he was seeing as El Rey cupped Sofia's ass and seeing her lovingly cuddle up to him. Anger grew inside of him and he raised his voice towards the man who caused him heartache. That raised voice would be his downfall. El Rey called his men into the room and ordered Arthur to be escorted out of his mansion. Meanwhile he called the police and informed them of a problem he was having. 3 months later and Arthur was stuck serving a 10 year sentence on drug smuggling charges that were falsified by El Rey and the local police which El Rey bribed. A warden came up to his cell and gave him a letter, in it it read: "Dear Arthur, You should not have not have raised your voice at me those months ago. I simply wished for you to attend mine and Sofia's wedding but you just so had to ruin it. On the next visitation day, I shall be there, be a good boy and I shall convince them to let you go free with the condition you join me back at the mansion for a discussion. In the meantime please do enjoy these photos of Sofia and I enjoying our wedding night. I do so hope you enjoy the lingerie and ring I got her. Regards, Antonio 'El Rey' Reyes" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hope you enjoyed this story is based on Alison Takes the deal by HP1920 over on Literotica be sure to check that out

#f2f corruption #f2f transformation #race change #caption

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