#so yeah that smile in the first photo is a man smiling at his children while he tries his best to get a job to provide for them

[libraryofloveletters]

Back At It Again

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unrequited feelings, childhood friends to something more than friends but less than lovers, mentions of charles' past relationships (charlotte and giada), hints towards there something being wrong in charles and charlotte's relationship, lorenzo gives reader a bit of a reality check, reader's lowkey delulu for charles (like some of y'all), a few time jumps, monaco curse, france 2022 DNF and my personal vendetta against ferrari is showing again sorry.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: I feel like I never write charles outside of the daddy & me + three series so here you go, sorry for breaking your hearts in advance :))

---

Attached at the hip. Everyone knew wherever Charles was, you were only but a few feet away.

It had been like this since you were children, Charles sat next to you in class when he was there. The boy leant over, peeking at your page before scribbling the answers onto his own paper and flashing you a smile.

If you stopped to think, maybe he had you wrapped around his finger since then.

You had always had a soft spot for the driver; except back then, Charles was just Charles. A sweet, soft spoken, smiley little boy with a horrendous bowl cut - something you still teased him about.

A photo hung on your living room wall; you and Charles as children on the front steps of your elementary school, the ice cream that Lorenzo had bought you two dripped all over your faces, hands and uniforms.

There's a big grin on Charles' face as he looks towards the camera but you? You were looking at him, the adoration written across your face.

Sometimes you wondered if you had stopped yourself then, if you would have ended up where you were today.

As much as you held a soft spot for Charles, he held one for you; you were his safe space.

When things got tough and he didn't know what to do or who to turn to, it was you he came running too and you took him in, consoled him with open arms every single time. You dropped everything and everyone the moment Charles came running.

The man had a hold over you, something everyone but you and him seemed to see.

You were madly in love with him and frankly, it clouded all of your judgement. You held him to the highest of standards, you just hoped that one day he'd see you in the same light.

---

You found yourself in his driver's room. Charles had invited you along to your home race in Monaco, he had just started with Ferrari and after his split from Giada, he needed some support. You being the good friend you were, well.. you were there for him anytime he called.

He was excited, his first home race with the team had always dreamt of racing with and you, as his best friend, you were just as excited.

Charles found himself starting in P16 but he was certain he could fight his way up, he held out a hope that he'd win but at the very least, get the car into points for the weekend.

Things were going okay in the race, Charles was slowly but surely moving up the leaderboard but it was barely the beginning of the race.

Lap 8 was unfortunately as far as Charles's Monaco Grand Prix went.

The Ferrari driver made his way back to the garage after an incident with Nico Hulkenberg. Charles passes by, quietly making his way to his driver's room to change and you wait for a few minutes before following him, knocking on the door that was shut.

"Charles?" you called from the other side, "can I come in?"

"Yeah," he says and you find him sitting on the bench in the corner of his room. He looks small, broken; it broke your heart to see him like that.

The door shuts behind you but you stay in place, your back to the door as you look around; various shades of Ferrari red, the logo of the prancing horse engraved into the wall.

It made you wonder if Charles ever regretted it.

He had barely started with Ferrari but he was young, so young and to have a world champion as a teammate, not to mention the pressure that comes with being a Ferrari driver on his shoulders at the age of 22 was a lot to handle.

He looks over at you, glancing at the empty spot beside him and you take that as a signal to join him, walking over and sitting next to the man.

"You okay?" You asked quietly and he shrugs. He won't look at you again but you don't miss when he brings his hand up to his face, the back of it wiping across his cheeks. "Charles," you whispered, your hand resting on his knee.

The driver finally looks over at you and it breaks your heart to see him like this. You tsked, arms open as he fell against you. Your touch brought him comfort, you rubbed his back softly as his breathing slowed, calming himself down. His skin was warm and sticky under his fireproofs, the material stuck to your hand and your chin rests on his head as he moves closer to you, holding onto you.

"It's not your fault," you whispered and Charles shook his head, you can feel it against your chest. "It is. If only I turned another way-"

"Charles, no." You stopped him, giving him a nudge to sit up so he could look at you. "Listen, I might not be a racer but even I could see that what happened was Nico's fault. You can't blame yourself for that, there's nothing you could have done differently. I'm sure the team knows that, ask Seb - I know he'd tell you the same thing."

He sniffled, pulling the collar of his top up to wipe his face. He pulls the thing off, tossing it in the corner of his room.

It's quiet again, the two of you sitting next to each other in silence, Charles stared at the wall and you, well you were looking at him - you were always looking at him.

He turns to you, his hand coming up to touch your face, cupping your jaw. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. There's a small smile on his face, "thank you, y/n, for everything."

You return the smile, your hand wrapping around his wrist before giving it a small squeeze. "Anything for you, Charles, you know that."

---

Summer break rolls around, Charles is now in his second year with Ferrari and things are going reasonably okay.

He ended off the first half of the season with a DNF in Hungary but he was certain things would pick back up in Belgium after the break.

It's a typical Sunday in Monaco; sunny, hot, people were at ease, out for a stroll or a drive but the Leclerc's were having lunch at Pascale's.

She had invited her boys over for lunch, to have them all home at the same time was a rare treat these days. It was a family day, which meant no girlfriends but you were there but you were always there. Charles' parents, especially his mother, had always seen you like another one of their children; the daughter they always wished to have.

Lunch was on the balcony today, chatting with a side of people watching. Charles sat next to you, his arm stretched out over the back of your chair as you laughed at something Arthur, who sat next to their mother, said. Lorenzo eyes the two of you from the head of the table, his arm on the edge of the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand.

The plates were empty when you stood, starting to pick them up. "Let me help," Pascale goes to stand but you stop her, "no no, you relax. You made lunch, it's the least I could do."

She smiles at you, thanking you as you cleared the table and took everything inside. You had just put away the leftovers and were about to start on washing the dishes when Lorenzo came in, bringing in the empty wine glasses.

"Thank you," you smiled at the oldest Leclerc brother.

He nods, leaning on the counter as he watches you wash the dishes. "What?" You look over at him, setting the plate in the dish rack carefully. "Worried I'll break mama's good china?" You joked and he smiled, shaking his head.

"Are you okay?" You ask seriously, despite you two knowing each other for years, it was unusual for him to just hang around like this.

"Yeah, are you?"

Your brows furrow, setting the washed glasses into the dish rack. "I'm fine, Enzo. You're sure you're okay?" You asked, your back to him as you wiped your hand on the hand towel.

He shrugs and you take that as a drop in the conversation, about to walk back to the balcony but he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "I love you like a sister, y/n, so this is why I'm telling you this." He starts.

Worried would be an understatement, all the possibilities spin around your head, from good to bad and you're still racking your brain as to what he wants to tell you.

"Don't let Charles stop you from living your life, y/n." You look at him confused, blinking a few times before you speak. "Wha- Lorenzo, he's not stopping me from doing anything."

"I know he's got you fooled, has you thinking that you'll be next, that he'll come running to you and never leave but he always does. I love him, he's my brother but he's a fuck up when it comes to relationships. He loves you, we all know this but in his own fucked up way, he think you'll always be there for him and that's why he keeps stringing you along. He's in a relationship, y/n, don't forget that."

"Lorenzo, why are you-"

"Listen, I just don't want to see you hurt. I don't want you to wait on him and then when you finally realize he's using you in his own messed up way, that it'd be too late and your whole life has passed you by."

You pause, unsure how to process what he's just told you. You know he's right, you wished he wasn't but he was.

You did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that could keep this going - somewhere in your own fucked up delusions, you knew couldn't lose Charles, doesn't matter if you got hurt in the process.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Enzo." You say quietly, the man nods, sighing. "I know you do, you know exactly what I mean, y/n. Just be careful, okay?"

You don't answer but he looks at you, "do you understand me?" He asks once more and you nod, Lorenzo finally lets go of your wrist.

"Hey," a voice comes from behind Lorenzo; Charles. "Tout va bien?" (everything okay?)

Lorenzo turns to his brother, a smile on his face before he speaks. "Ouais, je parle juste du travail de y/n." (yeah, just talking about y/n's job.)

The man nods, glancing at you for confirmation and you smile, giving himself a subtle nod. Charles hums, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "C'mon, mom wants pictures." He sighs, grabbing your hand to pull you out with him.

You glance over your shoulder, looking back at Lorenzo who gives you a warning glare; he was looking out for you, despite his words cutting into you.

---

Laid to your left on the bed, your hand felt over the empty space to find your phone. Squinting, you checked the time - 4:53am.

Who the hell was knocking on your front door?

You pulled the robe on as you stood up, wrapping it around you and tying the knot as you begrudgingly followed the noise to the door. It didn't even occur to you to check who it was before you had already turned the handle.

Much to your surprise, it was Charles with his luggage in tow.

"Charles?" You blinked, rubbing your eyes to make sure you were seeing right. The man steps past you, letting himself into your apartment. He leaves his suitcase by the door, slipping his shoes off before heading to the kitchen. "Yeah okay, come on in then," you mumbled, shutting the door behind you.

He comes back, sitting himself on the couch. There's something in his hand, he pops one into his mouth - grapes. "I don't know what happened." He sighs, passing his hand over his face.

It takes you a second - who can blame you, it is 5 in the morning after all - but you finally connect the dots. He's home in Monaco, he raced yesterday, in France.

"How'd you get here? Isn't everything closed, wait did you drive?"

Charles shook his head, "took the last train out last night, well this morning."

"Okay," you hum, walking into the living room. "Do you want to go home? I can give you a ride -" "No."

"What's going on, Charles?"

You were genuinely confused and concerned about him. You had seen the race, you knew things went sideways fast and it's not like him to come home in such a rush, even if things did go wrong.

He sighs as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees as his face drops into his hands. "Things are bad."

"Meaning?"

"Charlotte," he admits.

This isn't the first time Charles had come running to you when things got tough between the two of them and frankly, it was often that he showed up at your doorstep with nowhere else to go.

"I can't see her right now, y/n." He looks up at you and you nod, walking over to sit next to him. "She's still your girlfriend, Charles. Whatever the issue is, you can talk it out."

"She doesn't understand, y/n - not the way you do." He turns in his seat to look at you, he looks so tired and broken; god, he's lost all the boyish joy you had always loved about him. Some would say it's age but you knew it was more than that. It was Ferrari and all that they made him out to be, the pressure of the world on his shoulders and he's trying, he's pushing and it never seems to be enough.

Ferrari is red; red like the colour of blood, the blood of their drivers, their broken hopes and shattered dreams. You don't escape that place without a fight, and a brutal one at that.

You can't help but reach out to him, your hand pressed to his cheek; warm, the stubble that's formed over the weekend prickled at your hand.

"You're my best friend, you understand me more than I understand myself sometimes." He chuckles, smiling at you.

"I'll always be here, Charles. You don't have to think twice about that."

He nods, smiling at you. "Can I.. stay the night?"

"Isn't.. she looking for you?" You asked hesitantly and he shakes his head. "She thinks I'm coming home on Tuesday, told her I'd be spending some time with Pierre and his family."

You think about it for a second, you know you really shouldn't let him stay. If you were such a good friend, as you had always claimed to be, you'd send him home, let him work out whatever issues he was having with his girlfriend but alas, you were but a woman and a selfish one that is.

Whatever you could do to keep him in your grasp, to live in this delusion for only a second more, you'd do it.

You justified it to yourself; he looks so tired and broken, you can't possibly kick him out.

"Yeah, stay as long as you need." You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tu es le meilleur," (you're the best.) he says, getting up and making his way down the hallway.

You assumed he was going to the bathroom but when it goes quiet in the hallway, you head over to check on him. "Charles?" You called, seeing that the bathroom door was open and the light was off but when you see your bedroom door open, you peek in to find him in bed.

Charles has always been comfortable in your space; too comfortable if anyone asked.

He was curled up on your bed, the duvet pulled over him with his socks left on your bedroom floor by the bed along with his hoodie and shirt discarded on the chair in the corner. You shook your head, tossing the robe on the chair before getting on the bed. You got into bed as quietly as you could but Charles must have felt the dip in the mattress, rolling over towards you, his arm stretched over your lap.

You smile to yourself, your hand reaching down to twirl a few strands of his hair.

As you looked down at the man, his brother's words rang in your hand.

Your blood runs cold and you feel sick, but you can't bring yourself to move.

---

Christmas has always been your favourite time of the year. Your apartment was decorated from the time November 1st rolled around. You had all out this year despite the fact that you were going to visit your sister in the states for the holidays.

You had just put the tray of cookies into the oven when there's a knock on the door. You make your way over, peeking through the peep hole to find Charles there.

"Hey," you give him a small smile when you open the door. He smiles, a bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Can I come in?" He asks - shockingly.

You step to the side, letting him in. You shut the door behind him before turning around to face the man. "Happy holidays, y/n," he hands the stuff over to you," this is for you."

"Thanks," you take the flowers and the bag, setting it down on the counter as you grab the vase for the flowers.

Per usual, he finds himself on the couch as he looks around. He took in the stuff you had put up since the last time he had been there; a tree in the corner filled with ornaments, garlands, you've changed the curtains on your windows and the hand towels in your kitchen, even the throw pillows were different.

He's sure your bedroom has had a Christmas makeover.

"You okay?" He looks over at you when he notices you're quiet. You nod, setting the flowers into the vase, "I'm fine."

You take a seat on the couch across from him, your legs folding under you when you sit. Charles looks at you a bit confused, not sure what you're doing all the way over there. He pats the spot next to him, "come sit with me, y/n. I missed you."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff at his words.

Now he was really confused. "What's wrong?"

Your hands fold over your chest, looking over at the man. His white knitted hoodie was a size too big for him, swallowing him whole. He looked adorable, you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms but you can't let yourself fall into this again; things never change.

He never changes.

"I'm sick of this, Charles."

"Of what?

"This," you gesture between the two of you, the man's head tilting to the left, brows furrowed. He's still unsure what you meant by that.

"You do this every time, Charles. You don't miss me, you miss the idea of a relationship, someone to be at your beck and call. You know I'm always here for you and because of that, you use me. When things get tough in your relationships or you're single, like you are now, you come running to me and god," you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "It's like I never learn, I'm so stupid that I let you in every time."

Charles looks at you, his jaw hanging open a bit. "Y/n, come on- that's not true."

"Yes it is," you nod, sighing. "When you broke up with Giada, you clung to me, Charles. You spent every moment you weren't racing with me until you started seeing Charlotte. When things got tough with Char, you came to me, you hid here until you felt like you had to go home. Somehow you used me as an escape from your real issues, you made me feel special, like you loved me-"

"I did love you, y/n. I do love you." He says, his fingers poking into his chest to emphasize his words. You scoff again - the audacity of this man.

"Don't say shit like that, Charles. you know it's not true. You came to me when things got tough and no matter what was going on in my life, I dropped everything for you. I was always there for you and now that Charlotte's gone, you've come running back to me in hopes that I'll distract you until you find someone new."

"God, why are you making me out to be such a horrible person? I love you, y/n, I care about you. I really do."

"I know you love me, and that you care about me, Charles but I cannot keep doing this."

He sighs, passing a hand over his face. You take his silence as a chance to say what you have to say. "Either we become more or we're nothing at all."

"Y/n, please. Don't be like that," he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief. You give him a small shrug, unsure what else to say.

Charles stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he's supposed to say. You were his best friend, the only person he had actually trusted enough to confine in, to turn to in times of hardship and you had the audacity to throw that back into his face?

He watches as you stand, walking to the door. "What's the answer?" You asked and his brows furrow, you open the door this time.

You clarify the statement for him. "Are we more or nothing ?"

You're standing there, the front door to your apartment wide open and Charles can't help but laugh when he stands. "You're not serious."

"I am," you nod, taking his words as an answer in itself. "You need to go, Charles."

"Y/n, don't-"

"Charles stop, we all know you don't want more with me, I can see that clearly now. You laughed in my face, that's enough. There's no need to humiliate me anymore, please just go."

He nods, walking over to you. The man stops in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek. "Look at me," he says but you look everywhere but at him. "Y/n, look at me."

You finally do, your eyes meeting his. "You're serious about this?" He asks. "Yes," you nod, "unless you want more."

A tiny piece of you hoped he'd say yes but he lets go of you, moving his hand from your face. "Okay."

"Okay."

Charles leans towards you, his lips pressed to your cheek before finally taking a step back. "I'm sure I'll see you around," he says to you quietly and you nod, chewing at your bottom lip. "Sure."

He steps out of your apartment, walking a few feet down the hallway before he calls for you. "Bye y/n."

You watch from the door, nodding towards him as he steps on the elevator. You've both got a clear view of each other. "Goodbye Charles." you call out to him just as the doors slide shut.

The front door to your apartment shuts as well, your back pressed to the cold wood. Your head tipped back as you sigh. You aren't sure how you're supposed to feel because right now you felt empty and lost; you hoped it wouldn't be like this forever.

That chapter of your life was over and you hoped that one day you'd find the happiness you deserve.

---

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc angst #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

It's forty minutes into the latest state of the company press conference and Bruce has had to mute his mic entirely to avoid being turned into a meme AGAIN for sighing too much at his own event. For all that he's spent almost 20 years coaching his own children on not making scenes, he's really not much better. It's hot and he doesn't want to be here. His ribs hurt. He's tired. He's hungry. He's every excuse Dick or Jason have trotted out over the years.

(Tim understands company manners and can almost always be trusted to stick it out as long as he's allowed to vent his frustrations afterwards. He's recently taken to smashing ugly thrifted dishes. Stephanie and Damian have been collecting any ceramic not entirely pulverized and turning them into pavers for Alfred's garden.)

(Bruce gave up after Tim. He really only needs one kid to tag along to social events. If the kid start to outnumber him they start getting IDEAS.)

His distraction is why it takes two very rude repetitions of his name for him to take notice at the young reporter pushing his way to the front. Lucius stands, cutting off the project manager currently presenting and speaks into the mic.

"Please keep hold all questions until the end of the presentation, thank you."

"Mr. Wayne," the reporter tries again and Bruce waves away Lucius's further protests.

"Can I help you?" He asks, smiling with the full force of Brucie Wayne's charm behind it. It's been awhile since his last scandal, but if the press is inventing drama then it's less work for him.

The man holds up a photograph almost accusingly. He reeks of gotcha journalism.

Bruce squints towards him, unable to fully make out the contents of the photo. Dick may have been right when he gently suggested Bruce add glasses to his Brucie Wayne persona but that was a hill Bruce was still willing to die on. It was bad enough he had to have a prescription COWL.

"What do you have to say about the presence of your adopted son, Timothy Drake at the illegal mob in Robinson Park last Saturday?"

"Drake-Wayne," Bruce corrected because Tim hyphenated, damn it. He was the first of his children to let Bruce tag the Wayne name on and it mattered, damn it. "Wait do you mean-"

"How about reports of him kissing a man while there?"

"A blond man?" Bruce asked, finally giving up and crossing to take the photo for himself. "Oh. No, that's his boyfriend."

There was a beat of silence before Bruce realized his mistake. Just as the reporters began to squall, he dropped the blurry photo and began to speed walk off, phone suddenly in hand.

Through the podium's microphone, the gathered reporters heard one thing as Bruce evacuated the immediate vicinity.

"Tim? Don't be mad."

---

Despite Bruce's best efforts, he becomes a meme.

---

Immediately following the bombshell that Timothy Drake-Wayne had a boyfriend, social media blows up, clamoring for more information. They're ravenous for it, desperate. Tim doesn't have a personal social media presence but they stalk his professional accounts religiously. Bruce does have personal social media, but he maintains radio silence.

In the end, a Gotham based "influencer" stumbles across Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne getting donuts at Kosher Donuts and Co. Dick is personable, as always, and stops to speak with the young woman briefly.

"Yeah, Tim wasn't mad," he laughs when asked. "Just disappointed. But man, he knows how to milk it."

"Bruce is in the doghouse, huh?" she asks, full of false sympathy.

"A little bit," Dick says as Damian mumbles, "Titus would never share."

"But," Dick continued. "Tim's spun it so Bruce is on the hook for like, half a million in donations for local LGBT charities. Tim says it would hurt less if he sponsored a new shelter too, so that's something to look forward to."

"That's a lot of money! Where's it all going?"

"Oh you know," Dick says and gestures vaguely. "A lot of different programs."

"Yeah? Anything you personally want to see done with the funding?"

"Drag story time," Damian answers before Dick can. He looks intense. "But not for children. For dogs. In the shelter."

---

A day later, Tim breaks the silence. He goes live on Bruce's Instagram.

"So the problem was that Bruce thought the reporter was saying I was being unfaithful," Tim explains. "He totally forgot I wasn't out to everyone yet. Bruce was just worried because he's already told me if I break up with my boyfriend, he's not uninviting him from any future family events."

"Luckily, I was in fact just kissing my boyfriend at PRIDE. Just because people got shifty with the permits at the last second because of protestors doesn't make it an illegal mob. If you wanna hear about Wayne's and illegal mobs, talk to Dickie about his younger years. Nothing I do can compare."

#tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batfamily #dc pride #happy pride #timbern #wrote this on my phone so good luck with grammar or spelling #my writing tag

[seonghrtz]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌.

synopsis: fushiguro siblings need materials for their schoolwork, while gojo needs your help ⸻ again.

As the clock struck two o'clock in the afternoon, just as you had finished exorcizing a second grade curse, Gojo Satoru bombarded your inbox. You rolled your eyes as you regretted giving Gojo your number. You were aware of the young sorcerer's situation, and even more aware that it wasn't easy to look after two children half your age, but receiving sixty-eight messages at once was frightening.

Usually Gojo would send you photos of Megumi and Tsumiki, just Megumi alone and sometimes a photo of himself, and he would always send you questions about what to buy for the children to eat and how to make something tasty for them to take to school ⸻ he wasn't lying when he told you that he was trying to give these children as normal a childhood as possible. From time to time, Gojo would ask you trivial questions about everything and nothing, sometimes about you and your likes, nothing too invasive, and never about your family or your clan. But never, never in all that time had you received sixty-eight messages from him.

It was worrying, but coming from Gojo, you knew that if it was something that was really worrying, he wouldn't be texting you, he would be calling you right away. Just like when Megumi decided to ignore Gojo, since one of the six-eyed sorcerer's greatest pleasures was to annoy and tease the little boy. And Gojo, convinced that Megumi only listens to you, decided to call you and ask for your help with the "problem" between them. Of course, after you talked to Megumi and asked him to be more patient with Satoru, and after you pulled Gojo's ear ⸻ well, not exactly his ear, not least because of the infinity, but to lecture him ⸻, everything worked out.

One of the first things you thought of was that maybe Gojo needed you to help Megumi and Tsumiki with their homework, or something like that. And before answering Gojo's sixty-eight messages, you got back into the car that had taken you to the Kyoto Jujutsu School to report on your successful mission. But it seems that Gojo had bigger plans for that afternoon, and it seems that you were caught up in his plans. As you got out of the car, ready to hand in your mission report, a certain young man with white hair, round sunglasses and a smile came into view.

"Oi Kamo, why haven't you answered my messages?" Gojo approached you. He was close enough for you to smell the scent of Gojo's no doubt expensive perfume, but at the same time separated by an invisible barrier that protected him from everything and everyone ⸻ even you.

"The sixty-eight messages you sent when I was on a mission?" You held back the urge to roll your eyes at him, "Gojo, I have my duties as a jujutsu sorceress, I'm not available all day."

"Yeah, I know. That's why you get to spend the whole afternoon free from your ‘duties’ as a jujutsu sorceress!" Gojo said excitedly, throwing his arms up in the air.

"What? What exactly do you mean by that?"

"That you don't have to do any missions in the afternoon and evening, so you can go out with me and the brats!"

"You mean you threatened... no, no, much worse... you mean you bribed the director so I wouldn't get any more missions during the day?"

As nice as it was to spend the rest of the day not worrying about escaping death, exorcizing curses was still the only way you could afford to survive ⸻ it was your only source of income.

"Yes," Gojo said calmly.

"What are you thinking?" you looked at Gojo indignantly, "You can't just bribe the director to let me go out with you, Gojo."

"And why not?" Gojo asked genuinely.

"Because that's my job, Gojo. I'll lose a lot of money without these missions.”

"Don't worry about the money, I'll pay for it later. You're already stressed out, we don't want to see a vein burst in that pretty forehead of yours, do we?" Satoru smiled sideways and walked towards a black car, "Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?”

"What have I got myself into..." You muttered to yourself before walking over to Gojo's car and getting into the passenger seat next to him.

"Let's go get the brats, apparently Tsumiki needs some materials to do some schoolwork." Gojo started the car after putting on his seatbelt.

"What about Fushiguro?"

"I have no idea what he needs, he just said he needed something too."

"You should be kinder to him instead of teasing him, then maybe he'll tell you what he needs."

"It's no use, even if I am nice to him, he only respects you."

As you watched the scenery through the tinted window of Gojo's car, not knowing where you were really going, the most powerful Jujutsu sorcerer was sitting next to you, driving while singing along to the song on the radio. In the back seat, Tsumiki bobbed her head to the beat of the music while Megumi kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. You sympathised with Megumi's situation, even though Gojo didn't sing badly, listening to him sing non-stop for almost half an hour felt like torture.

Tired, you sighed lightly and looked for a good position on the passenger seat to lean your head back and close your eyes, imitating Megumi. However, your moment of peace was short-lived, as within a few minutes, Gojo was calling your name excitedly, saying that they had already arrived at the location.

You got out of the car a little unsure, noticed that you were in a covered car park, and wondered why you were there. If the children needed school supplies, you should have been in a stationery shop and not somewhere else.

"Here are the best shops." You overheard part of Gojo's conversation with Tsumiki while you watched Megumi standing next to you with his hands in the pockets of his uniform trousers. "Do you really want to stay behind?" Gojo turned to you and Megumi with a smile on his face.

You glanced briefly at Fushiguro, nodding in the direction of Gojo and his sister, before you both started walking. Your eyes traveled around as soon as you entered the establishment, your mind gradually clearing as you remembered the mall you had gone to with Shoko and Utahime a few months ago. It wasn't easy to forget the designer stores where a simple blouse cost more than you got for exorcizing a second grade curse. Gojo led the way to a stationery store on the second floor of the mall, and before you could enter the store, you waved for the white-haired boy to come closer while you watched Tsumiki and Megumi enter.

"Look, Gojo, I know you're the heir of the clan and that you have a lot of money, but don't you think it's too expensive to buy school supplies here? I'm sure any other stationery store will have what the kids need at a better price." You muttered.

"Ah, we're not just here for the stationery store." Gojo smiled in your direction and adjusted his glasses.

"No?" You asked confused.

"No! Now let's go, we have to buy things for the brats," Gojo said, heading in the direction of the Fushiguro siblings.

"What's his problem?" You wondered before you followed the trio into the huge store.

While Gojo helped Tsumiki choose the materials for her model, you and Megumi walked around the store looking for materials to decorate the poster the boy would make.

"What do you think about colored pencils?" You asked the boy, who just shrugged.

"Anything's fine." Megumi muttered, looking at the options of colored pens in front of him.

"Are you sure? Gojo's the one who's going to pay." You smiled sideways.

"Those over there," Megumi pointed hesitantly at a set of thirty-two colored pens.

"These?" You smiled and took the object, "If you need anything else, just ask."

"Could you... could you help me with my poster?" Megumi said and looked down at the floor with rosy cheeks.

Oh, how adorable he was.

"Of course." You smiled openly.

"Is that all you're going to take, Megumi?" Gojo appeared next to Tsumiki, holding a basket full of materials. "And these aren't even the best quality!" The white-haired man took the pens from your hand and put them back before he took a set of thirty-two pens that were almost twice as expensive as the ones Megumi had chosen earlier.

"More expensive doesn't always mean better quality."

"Trust me, Kamo-chan, this is the best brand out there!" Gojo put the set of pens in the basket. "Are you sure this is it?" He looked at the Fushiguro siblings and received a nod from Tsumiki and a blank stare from Megumi."I'll go to the cash register then!"

After buying all the materials at the stationery store, Gojo continued to guide you and the Fushiguro siblings around the place. Gojo walked through the mall as if he had been doing it for years, he seemed to know every corridor in the place. Maybe he was just used to the mall, and that wouldn't surprise you at all, since at eighteen, he was the most powerful of the Gojo clan and probably the richest as well.

"Would you do me a favor?" Gojo turned to you as you stopped in front of a boutique.

"It depends." You looked at him suspiciously.

"Could you try on some dresses for me?"

"What? Why do you want me to try on dresses for you?"

"Ah... well... you know... I have to go to a birthday party, and apparently it's rude not to bring a present for the birthday girl... you'd even believe me if I told you that you're both the same size." Gojo quickly explained, "It's just so I don't get the dress size wrong… since you're both the same size..."

"As long as it's quick, Tsumiki and Megumi have to start their schoolwork." You agreed without seeing many other possibilities than the most likely one. Not to mention the fact that you didn't want to have to deal with Gojo nagging you until he got what he wanted.

"You'll be a big help to me, Kamo-chan!"

"And don't call me that." You rolled your eyes as you entered the store with the trio.

"Tsumiki, Megumi, sit over there on the sofas, Kamo-chan and I have some hard work to do." Gojo handed the shopping bags to Tsumiki and turned to one of the shop assistants.

"Gojo-san, it is good to see you again." The woman smiled politely, "Would you like to see the pieces you asked me to separate?"

"Yes, I brought the model this time!" Gojo pointed at you with a big smile on his face.

"Then please follow me, Miss”

"What?" You looked between the attendant and Gojo without understanding anything.

"She'll take you to a fitting room," the white-haired man said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Have you been here?"

"Of course I have, I chose the dresses beforehand, I just needed an opportunity to bring you here! Now, without further ado, the sooner you try them on, the more rest time you'll have."

You gave Gojo one last uncertain look before following the saleswoman. She led you to one of the fitting rooms and asked you to wait there so she could bring you the dresses Gojo had chosen. You looked around the fitting room and noticed that it was larger than a traditional store fitting room, there was even a mini two-seater sofa in the corner.

"Here is the first dress." The woman handed you the dress before closing the door.

Holding the dress in your hand, you felt the softness of the fabric and the delicacy of the details. It was a long, one-shouldered vintage dress with fabric that graduated from dark pink to yellowish green at the edges. It had a lot of irregular embroidery along its length, along with several pink flowers, as if they were bouquets swaying in the wind. It was beautiful.

Gojo certainly had a good sense of fashion.

You took off your uniform and carefully put on the dress, afraid to ruin it. Your eyes traveled to your reflection in the huge mirror in the fitting room. The dress had fit you perfectly, as if it had been made for you.

But it wasn't for you, it was for Gojo's friend.

"You can come out when you're ready." The woman spoke from the other side.

With hands trembling slightly from the sudden, unfamiliar nervousness you were beginning to feel, you opened the dressing room door and stepped out almost in slow motion.

"Wow..." The woman in front of you said with parted lips, "You look magnificent." She held out her hand to you and you reluctantly accepted it. The attendant led you to where Gojo was sitting, now accompanied by Tsumiki and Megumi. "This is the first dress."

"Wow, Kamo-san!" Tsumiki looked in your direction with a twinkle in her eye, "You look like a princess."

"It's no big deal, Tsumiki." You smiled nervously in the girl's direction but then turned your attention to Gojo. "So, what did you think?"

"You're perf–" Gojo quickly stopped talking and scratched his throat, "That's a nice dress, but looking at it now, I don't think it's quite right for... the birthday girl. Could you try on another one?"

"Okay then." You sighed and turned around, ready to go back to the fitting room.

You sighed deeply as you received another dress from the saleswoman, this time a blue one. You felt like you were trying on several dresses of every color imaginable. They all had a different color, a different style. And there was no end to them ⸻ maybe Gojo made you try on every dress available in the store. You didn't know what number the dress you were trying on was, if it was the eighth or the fourteenth, you stopped counting after the fifth one you tried on.

But it was certainly the prettiest dress you tried on.

The dress looked more like a Vivienne Westwood wedding dress, but in a shade of blue.

And strangely enough, that blue reminded you of something you didn't seem to remember at the moment, but it certainly brought back vague memories of something.

When you came out of the fitting room, the woman serving you put her hands to her mouth, which was open in surprise.

"You look like a dream." The woman smiled happily, "You look magnificent, gorgeous, splendid, stunning...oh, I could spend all day praising your beauty in this dress, it looks like it was made just for you, and I'm not just talking about the size."

But again, the dress wasn't for you. It wasn't meant for you, so it couldn't possibly have been made for you.

"I think that was a bit of an exaggeration, but thank you."

"Gojo-san will love this, I'm sure." 

"I hope..." You muttered. In fact, you were hoping that this would be the last dress to be tried on. They were all beautiful, but it seemed that none of them were to Gojo's taste ⸻ even though he had chosen all the ones you had tried on. It had been minutes, perhaps hours, since you had been there, and the constant changing of dresses had become tiresome.

You followed the attendant, taking the same route you had been taking for minutes ⸻ but which seemed like an eternity to you ⸻, to show Gojo the dresses.

"This is the last dress of your choice." The attendant said, drawing the attention of Gojo, who was teasing Megumi.

Gojo turned abruptly toward you, and at the same moment, his round sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing his bluish orbs.

So that was it... The blue of the dress resembled the blue of his eyes.

Obviously the bright, crystal blue of Gojo's eyes couldn't be replicated in a shade of fabric, but in a way they were similar.

"This is the one..." Gojo almost sighed, as if he lacked the words ⸻ or perhaps it was the air he lacked.

"This is definitely the best choice!" The attendant smiled excitedly at Gojo's choice, "We'll pack it up now so you can take it with you."

You returned to the fitting room again, this time relieved that you didn't have to try on any more clothes. You changed back into your uniform and handed the dress to the attendant before heading to the Fushiguro siblings while Gojo paid for his friend's birthday present.

"I think it's time to go home!" Gojo smiled after returning from the cashier with the dress.

Gojo drove all the way to Kyoto to drop you off at home. Megumi and Tsumiki slept in the backseat while the low sound of the radio mixed with their breathing. You had to stop yourself from turning around and looking at this extremely cute scene.

"You know, there's a spare room in my apartment..."

"I'm not moving into your apartment Gojo..." You sighed.  

"I know you always refuse my offer, but you can still sleep there for just one night if you want," Gojo looked away from the road for a few seconds, "You could, I don't know, spend a night there, the brats love you, so they'd like it."

"I'll think about it..."

"Really, that would help Megumi's mood a lot." Gojo laughed softly. "Tsumiki is an angel, but it seems that the devil lives in Megumi's body and you're the only one who can tame this devil."

"I've already expressed my opinion on the matter, Gojo."

"Stop teasing and annoying Megumi and blah blah blah," Gojo said in a thin tone of voice, as if he wanted to imitate you, but in a more provocative way.

"Stop being an idiot, Gojo." A small laugh escaped your lips.

"Hey?! Did I just make the serious Kamo-chan laugh?" Gojo smiled provocatively in your direction.

"No." The seriousness returned to your face.

"Oh come on, you should smile more." Gojo tapped his fingers on the steering wheel "Or maybe that's why Megumi likes you so much, you're the same."

You looked seriously in Gojo's direction. Ah, but if looks could kill...

"Come on, that's the first time I've seen you express a genuine laugh in the three years I've known you!"

"Maybe you're just not funny enough to make me laugh."

"WHAT?!" Satoru suddenly braked the car.

"Gojo!" You said in a repressive tone. "You're going to wake up the kids like that, and you've gone crazy braking the car like that?"

"First of all, I almost drove by your apartment, and secondly, how come you don't find me funny?" Gojo turned off the car, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned toward you.

"I just don't find it funny, there's not much explanation." You shrugged.

"Oh come on, don't be so cruel to me! You just laughed at me."

"I wasn't laughing at you!"

"Are you gaslighting me?"

"Really?" Your eye roll was enough to make Gojo smile sideways, "Look, I'm off, have a good afternoon and don't forget to give the kids some real food." You quickly got out of the car with your small backpack and looked for the key to your building.

"Kamo-chan, wait a minute," Gojo got out of the car and walked in your direction.

"What is it this time, Gojo?"

"You forgot this." He lifted the bag in his right hand, showing the store brand of the dress Gojo had bought as a gift.

"What do you mean?" You looked at him confused. "But isn't that your friend's present?"

"I lied, I don't have any friends having a birthday."

"Why did you lie?"

"I was afraid you would refuse the dress as a thank-you. Look, you've helped me a lot with all this childcare stuff, and I wanted to thank you in some way, and I thought the dress would be a good start."

"Gojo, I have no occasion to wear that dress, and not to mention it's extremely expensive, I didn't need something so expensive."

"I know you'll have a chance to use it, and you should seriously stop worrying about my money."

"It's just that..." You looked at your own reflection in Gojo's glasses and took the bag held out to you. "Thank you. The dress is beautiful."

"Of course the dress is beautiful, I chose it myself!" Gojo smiled smugly. "I think I'd better go, the brats have school tomorrow."

"Uhm, thanks again."

"It was nothing." Gojo smiled before getting back into the car.

Your hand tightened on the handle of the bag as you made your way to your apartment. When you were finally safely inside your apartment, your cheeks began to soak from the tears that kept flowing. This was the first gift you had received in years. It was the first time in years that you felt special. In that moment, you felt like the child you never had the chance to be. Maybe this was the closest you had ever felt to a normal life...

Yeah, perhaps Gojo had an admirable side beneath all that ego.

memory garden masterlist !

☆! tag list : @arminswifee . @khaleesihavilliard . @chieeeeeee . @manooffline . @shybananabagellover . @r0ckst4rjk . @sad-darksoul . @chuluoyi . @stormflysaysstuff

© SEONGHRTZ, 2023ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

#五条悟ㅤ͏✷ㅤ𝑚. ͏𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝄒 #☆ . . seonghrtz !! #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist

It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.

Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.

This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.

“About five now,” Black Widow answered.

Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?

“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.

The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.

“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”

Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.

“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.

Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.

//

It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).

Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.

So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.

He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.

Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.

But . . . He did have something they could help with.

“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”

“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.

Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.

//

As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.

“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.

“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.

Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.

She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.

“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #dc batman #batman fic #batman fluff #Batman #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #batman x you #avengers fluff #avengers x reader #avengers #dc marvel crossover

[nctsplug02]

i also want you to write for mrs suh and johnny (just like mrs jeong and jaehyun) 🥹🥹🥹

Misses Suh? j.suh

GENRE: fluff, smut, dilf and milf parents, halloween night!

WARNINGS: milf and dilf parents, young children are mentioned in this story (several month old-17 year olds), drinking, fluffy scenes, slight angst scene but not really, kissing, flirting, groping, oral sex (M receiving), sexual commenting, car sex, rough sex, riding in the backseat.

WARNING 2.0: chenle being the absolute cutest in the world.

DING DONG!

“trick or treaters already?” you wipe your hands on the ripped paper towel. “it’s only six?” you look away from the oven clock.

you grab the bucket of candy off the dinner table and walk to the front door only to see your husband has beat you to it.

“come on in, leslie!” a girl with her hair in short braids, a metal head brace on, her thick brown boots on, and books in her arms walk in.

“thanks, mister suh!” she comes in and quickly takes off her boots, neatly setting them aside.

“hey leslie, i thought you were a trick or treater!” you hold the big pumpkin bucket on your hip. “misses suh, you look so good!” she squeals.

you giggle and place a hand on your chest. “oh, thank you, honey.”

you and johnny were dressed as the joker and his ROD, harley quinn.

“now are you sure you don’t want to go trick or treating with your friends?” you pick at your nails while johnny joins your side.

johnny hugs your waist. “you can back out, just say the word.” johnny says with a nod.

leslie shakes her head firmly. “no ma’am and no sir. my friends are going with their families and i think i’m old enough to the point where i don’t need to go trick or treating anymore.”

“is that so?” leslie nods with a giggle and a snort ending it. “yes ma’am.”

“well, i’m gonna get my wallet so i can pay you now. just so i don’t forget.” you wink at the fourteen year old before leaving to the kitchen.

“don’t feel so bad, baby.” your husband follows you. “i can’t but help feel that way. i feel like we’re holding her back from living her childhood life.” you frown and unzip your wallet.

johnny bear hugs you, his chin on your shoulder. “she offered to watch our little min jung on halloween so, we aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“leaving a minor home alone with another minor?” you zip up your wallet after grabbing a fresh crisp $100 bill.

“she lives next door and her parents are home.”

you pause and laugh. “you just have an answer for everything, huh?” johnny hums, lightly grazing his red lips on your neck. “maybe.”

“no no, we start at my neighborhood then we start moving to the left.” haechan says coming down the stairs with his friends.

“hi haechan!” haechan flinches and jumps back. “leslie… how the hell did you get inside my house?”

leslie blinks and smiles. “oh, you don’t know? i’m babysitting your brother!” she giggles and ends off with a snort.

“yeah…okay, just don’t go in my room again.” leslie squeezes her books and nods.

a nudge pushes haechan forward. “uh…yeah, excuse us.” the group of boys squeeze past leslie who follows with her head.

“mom! dad! we’re going trick or treating, now!” haechan shouts with his hand on the door handle.

you usher to the front door. “already? it’s only six.” you frown and return with the cash fisted in your hand. “yeah, mom. we wanna go early so we can get the good king size candy bars. we’ll be back before ten, see ya—!”

“nuh-uh, uh, uh.” you shake your head while putting your hands on your hip. “lemme get a quick picture of you boys first.”

the seven of them line up, three of them squatting for the second photo.

“just one more,” you take a few more shots before haechan begins to whine. “no more, mom! we gotta go!” you glare at him and tsk. “donghyuck suh.”

haechan sighs and poses for the picture. “you boys look amazing!” you giggle at their costumes.

haechan as micheal jackson. (didn’t want to comply in the family halloween costume).

mark as spider-man. (with a big hole in the middle of the mask because haechan cut his breathing source too big).

renjun as a fox. (teased for being a furry).

chenle as jigsaw.

jaemin as a male harley quinn. (he refused to wear the booty shorts/skirt).

jeno as the joker.

lastly, the baby of the group; jisung who’s dressed as a white sheet cut out ghost. (he was lied to by the group that they were gonna go as white sheet ghosts).

“looks like we have ourselves some copycats.” johnny says, eating a kitkat. “it was unplanned!” jeno whines with jaemin agreeing.

“uh huh, sure. now, have fun trick or treating and be safe.” the boys who’s are kneeling stand back up and follow haechan who opens the front door and ushers them out.

“haechan,” you call out for the boy who halts and turns back to you. “what time should you be home?”

“ten.” you nod with a hum. “that’s right. any later than ten— i’m eating all your king size candy bars.”

haechan whines and is taken into your arms. “i love you, be safe.” you plant a kiss on his cheek. “you’re getting too tall.”

haechan was four inches taller than you but he still towered over you.

“i love you too, mom. don’t party too much, you’re getting old.” you scoff and shoo him out the house. “be safe, boys! i love you all.” you shout out the door before shutting it.

you turn to see johnny with leslie and the seven month old in her lap.

“looks like someone’s awake from their nap.” you walk over to the group and join johnny on the floor. “hey little mister, you’re gonna stay with our good neighbor, leslie.” you wipe min jungs’ drool off his cheek.

min jung coos and reaches out his arms to you. the three of you aw as you take him into your arms.

“now leslie, dear. i’ve left some instructions on the fridge. i also wrote emergency numbers—including my number and mister suhs.”

leslie nods. “yes ma’am. i’m sure we won’t be needing to use those emergency numbers! i’ve got it all under control. i took several baby classes so i’m pretty sure i know what i’m doing.”

you nod with a sigh. “alright,” you look at your husband who looks back at you. “you ready to head out?” he nods with a frown.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. did you need anything before we leave?” leslie looks around and shakes her head. “no ma’am.”

“okay then, here he is. we have a whole bunch of snacks for you if you get hungry—and some backup bags of candy for the trick or treaters if we run out. i’m just gonna grab my bag then we’re gonna leave.” leslie nods and takes min jung back into her arms.

johnny stands and helps you up off the ground. “your bag.” he holds your bag up after helping you off the ground. “oh, thank you. i thought i left it in the kitchen.”

“nope.” johnny pats your hip and guides you to the front door where he watches you put on your boots.

“i’m gonna go start the car first so it warms up for you.” you nod and feel your heart flutter, for you.

johnny leaves the moment you finish lacing your boots. you give one more glance to leslie who makes the sleepy seven month old giggle.

“you sure you’ll be okay, leslie?” she looks back with a confused sound. “oh, yeah! we’ll be just fine, won’t we, min jung-ie?” she lifts the chunky boy up and makes him wave.

“okay then. i’ll see you later tonight. but if i don’t make it back before 10, leave baby with haechan.” leslie nods. “okay,” you extend, holding onto the door handle. “i’m going now. goodnight!”

when you shut the front door after you step out, you let out a deep breath.

it was the first time in months since you’d be leaving your son behind with a babysitter. it was always hard when leaving them even for a few minutes.

haechan was the hardest. since he was always attached to you, whenever you had to leave for work he would chase you out to the drive way whenever you tried leaving. some days you’d cave and stay with him until he eventually grew out of it.

you make your way to the car and johnny is standing by the passenger side with his phone to his ear. “—just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. be back by ten and be safe.”

johnny hangs up and smiles when seeing you. “hey puddin’.” johnny opens the passenger side. “hey joker, who was that on the phone?”

“just my brother.” you climb into the passenger side. “mark?” johnny nods, watching you seatbelt yourself on. “i was just telling him that since he’s the oldest, don’t let them screw around too much.”

“it’s halloween and they’re teenagers. let’s just hope we don’t need to bail any of them out of jail tonight.”

johnny laughs. “if anyone’s going to jail tonight, it’s you. you’re too sexy to be walking around like this, baby.” you roll your eyes as johnny shuts the door and jogs to the driver side.

the two of you take off after johnny seatbelts himself in.

“cheers!” you squeal as you clink your long shot glass with the group of girls.

“nononono,” you whine when your shot glass is gently pulled away from you. “that’s too many shots tonight. especially for you since you’re a light weight.”

you pout and cross your arms. “i’m barely drunk! i’m like 2/4ths drunk.” you slur a bit. “sounds drunk to me.”

“please,” you scoff. “i’ve only had two cans and three shots.”

“yeah and those two cans took you an hour and a half to finish them.” johnny sets down the shot glass. “your point?”

johnny puts his hands on his hips—typical dad pose.

“it’s time for us to go home.” you whine and the girls join you. “we were supposed to be home two hours ago but you insisted we stay a few more minutes.”

“it’s halloween, john! loosen up!” taeils wife says while holding up a shot glass to you. “for real, johnny! don’t worry, dude—you’ll make it home in time to fuck your hot wife.”

you giggle with the girls at johnnys face and wrap your arms under his.

“i wanna fuck my hot wife when she isn’t heavily intoxicated.” johnny says, grabbing your ass under your skirt and then moving his hands up to your waist.

you whine once more and push yourself off johnny. “fine,” you fix his purple blazer with a pout. “we can go home since you’re that horny.”

johnny laughs, “sure, baby.”

johnny drags you to the car and buckles you in with reassurance and kisses. he settles himself in and drives off.

“wanna stop at a 7/11 so we can get some snacks for the drive home?” the drive home was approximately 45 minutes, taeil just had to buy a $3M house on the north side.

“mmm no, i have alcohol in my system and we’re driving—and that’s already not a good mix. but, if you want to get something, you can and i can feed you your snack so we don’t get pulled over.”

johnny laughs, slapping his hand on your thigh and rubbing the spot with his thumb after.

“it’s okay, baby. and, you’re right; beer and driving doesn’t mix well. don’t drink and drive.”

you sigh, “i think i can actually go for something to snack on.” johnny chuckles and makes a turn, driving to the nearest 7/11 and grabbing snacks.

“you got tuna kimbap?” you sort through the bag while johnny drives out the parking lot. “i got two.” johnny holds up a quick peace sign.

“mmm and you got some chocolate mochi balls on a stick?! oouuu! you even got some sweet potato chips!” you whine and pull out the treats.

you rip open the packaging of the chocolate mochi balls and you grab a stick. you yank one of the mochis and smack on the soft chewy dough. “want one?”

johnny looks at what you have in your hand and opens his mouth while his eyes stare at the road. “ahhh,” you say while johnny inhales the last two mochi.

“oh,” you stare at the stick. “oh, i’m sorry.” johnny muffles and laughs. “it’s okay, we have two more sticks.” you place the stick back into the packaging.

you grab the bag of sweet potato chips and you rip open the bag. “mmm, these ones are so crisp!” you nod and look in the bag, finding a nice big piece and plopping it in your mouth.

“me too, me too!” johnny says ahh and munches on the stack of potato chips you placed on his tongue.

as you continue to feed your husband, you realize the mess on his lap. “babe, you’re such a messy eater.” you brush away the crumbles.

johnny smirks and grips the steering wheel. “hmm, somebody’s excited.” you giggle and lightly squeeze the outline of his angry bulge. “and what for, hm?”

“i think you know what for.” you look at his phone, the maps app was open and it was directions on how to get home.

twenty minutes until home.

“this tesla can go autopilot, right?” johnny snickers at the way you asked the question. “we just got this car last week, my love. i’m not gonna risk it yet. not just yet.”

“next week?” there’s hope in your voice. “okay, sure, baby. next week.” johnny giggles.

you bite your lip and fiddle with his belt. “sooo,” you tilt your head and tug on his belt. “no autopilot…but, you didn’t say i couldn’t give you head while you drove us home?”

“you’re absolutely right about that, baby.” johnny glances at you and smiles. “you’re so smart.”

you undo johnnys belt and his pants. he lifts his hips a bit to give you some help on removing his jeans.

“i still can’t get over how lucky i am.” johnny scoffs as you press kisses on his tip. “i know, i’m a great catch.”

you fist him with two hands and smear the oozing precum. “and your dick is amazing.” you mumble before wrapping your mouth around his tip.

“oh shit,” johnny sighs and drops his heavy hand on your head.

you whine and push his hand off.

you’re a grown women, you don’t need assistance giving head. in this moment at least. winky face, winky face.

you moan and swirl your tongue around his tip. johnny curses loudly when you fondle his balls.

johnnys long and girthy, he knows he is. he’s proudly acknowledged that his wife chokes and gags on his dick and isn’t ashamed of it. so, when you force yourself down his shaft, tears instantly spring to your eyes.

“baby,” johnny pets your head. “baby, calm down.” you lift your head and use the back of your palm to wipe your lips. “don’t force yourself, it’s okay, baby. take your time.” johnny wipes your tears and kisses your lips.

you grab him by his base and retry but this time taking your time working down his dick.

while you work with johnnys length and girth, johnny notices your pretty ass in the air, swaying left and right. so, he lifts your skirt and gives you a few harsh spanks.

with tears dripping onto johnnys thighs, you still manage to fit his cock halfway down your throat before you’re pushing yourself off and gasping for air.

“good job, baby. you’re doing so good.” johnny wipes your cheeks, smearing your makeup as he does.

“i’m sorry,” you giggle when seeing his dick all messy with your red lipstick all over it and saliva slowly dripping down the sides of it. “i got a little messy.”

you don’t even notice when johnny pulls into the driveway until he puts the car in park.

“i love it when you’re messy. it turns me on so fucking much.” johnny pulls you in for a kiss, it turns heated and sloppy quickly.

“c’mere,” johnny lifts you out from the passenger side and drops you in his lap.

“uh,” you look back at the steering wheel and at johnny. “wanna push your chair back a little? it’s kind of crowded over here.”

you and johnny laugh while johnny pushes his chair back. “butt too big?” johnny pushes you on him and spanks you harshly that a moan fills johnnys ears.

“wanna just move to the back?” johnny suggests when feeling his legs cramp. “that’s a better idea.” you laugh and crawl to the back with johnny following.

you straddle johnny when he’s seated in the middle of the backseat.

“fuck, you sound so sexy.” johnny says while rubbing your ass.

johnny pulls your skirt to the side and rubs your pussy through your thong before pulling that aside as well.

“how’re we feeling tonight? eager or wanna take our time?” johnny asks, rubbing your clit with his fingers.

“eager,” you moan.

“that’s perfect.” you gasp as johnny pushes your hip down so that your cunt swallows him.

it was only the tip and you were already tensing up. “slow?” you nod, body shaking as you attempt to adjust to johnnys size.

even after birthing two human out of your vagina, johnnys size was still hard to adjust to. a lucky women you were.

“fuck,” you softly cry out when johnny bounces your hips.

your hand quickly grabbing his wrist and squeezing it tightly. “you okay, baby?” you nod, holding your breath.

“i just have to adjust—like usual.” you chuckle and slowly drop your hips, letting out a long hiss.

johnny has his hands on your hips, guiding you and reassuring you that you’re fine and that you’re doing amazing.

after settling for a few minutes, you give johnny a kiss and stare him down. “are you ready now?” you nod and giggle.

johnny smacks your ass and lifts your hips, rolling them down and repeating. “you’re so beautiful.” johnny says.

you kiss him and sit yourself up, letting johnny bounce your hips as you undo your top. “fuck,” johnny laughs and rolls his eyes when seeing your breasts drop in his face.

johnnys hands release your hips and attach themselves to your breasts. you giggle at his reaction and begin moving your hips on your own.

you moan loudly when feeling johnny nibble on your left nipple. his thumb rubbing the other in circles and sometimes giving them little pinches and tweaks.

you roll your hips and eager chase for your orgasm. moaning out loud and pulling on your husbands long locks.

johnnys cock being tugged and hugged tightly by your walls. “have i ever told you that i love your tits?”

“our first date.”

johnny laughs and buries his face in your breasts. it was like heaven with billions of the worlds best and most comfortable pillows around him.

“fuck,” you cry out and tighten your walls and thighs.

johnny releases your breasts and hugs your waist, holding you still and fucking himself into you. your little skirt bouncing with his thrusts.

johnnys pretty moans and grunts filling up the car along with your moans as johnny fucks you through your orgasm.

your tight walls clinging onto johnnys dick as he slides into you without any worries or problems. the sound of wet and skin slapping and meeting blend with the sounds of both you and johnnys moans.

johnny was very vocal during sex—praising you for every little thing you did, moaning when he felt the littlest bit of pleasure.

and johnny would tease you for being the loudest, as if.

johnny lets out a broken grunt when slamming his hips once more before freezing and staying still. his hips pushed up into yours while he forces his load inside you.

johnny pants out loud while slowly lowering his hips and holding his fucked out wife, you, to his chest.

sweat melting down his temples and nose, his makeup running with the sweat. your pigtails all messed up and lipstick smeared all over your mouth area.

“oh, puddin’.” johnny sighs with a big grin.

johnny lifts his head. “happy halloween, baby.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs your hips.

“it’s passed halloween,” you mumble and lift your head. “it’s november, baby. that means no nut november.” johnny laughs and shakes his head. “we failed didn’t we?” you nod and kiss his jaw.

after sitting for a few more minutes, just sitting in silence and making out like teenagers in the backseat of your car.

“ready to go inside, baby?” you nod and slide yourself off johnnys lap.

you and johnny clean up a bit before sneaking inside.

“i’m gonna go start us a shower, m’kay?” johnny presses a kiss on your head before tip toeing upstairs.

you go check on min jung who’s sound asleep in his crib with a bottle and haechans favorite stuffed brown bear next to him.

you leave the room and get jump scared by a tall figure. “misses suh?” it’s a soft voice. “chenle? what’s wrong, honey?” you cup the teens face and examine him in the dark.

“i thought i heard something but it was just you, i’m sorry.” you ruffle the sleepy boys hair and guide him to haechans room where everyone is scattered everyone and all asleep.

chenle stops after taking a step into the room. “misses suh?” you hum, holding onto the door handle. “i saved you some candy bars, it’s in the kitchen for you.”

you smile, “thank you, chenle. you’re a sweetheart. now get some rest, i’m sure you’re exhausted from trick or treating.”

chenle nods and joins jisung on the floor and under the sheets.

you shut the door and join johnny, briefly explaining to him about what happened with chenle before going for another round in the shower.

that’s an amazing way to end off halloween.

AN| happy halloween, my loves! i now i’ve been inactive but i’ve been so busy on the outside of tumblr. i love and miss you guys so so much! please be careful trick or treating (if you guys still go because me and sneakylink are planning to go HAHSKSJ). also, be careful at parties! >:c

AAN| i didn’t know whether it was “jen the babysitter” or a

love you guys! 🩷

#ash talks #nct smut #nctsplug02 #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #anon #nct imagines #kpop fluff #nct 127 #nct johnny #johnny seo smut #johnny fluff #johnny suh smut #johnny x reader #johnny #johnny seo #johnny suh #johnny smut

[oneforthemunny]

santa claus is comin' to town |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: oliver's first christmas with you and eddie, since the adoption, is off to a not so great start. luckily, eddie knows exactly how to make both your spirits bright <3

read the entire janitor!eddie and teacher!reader series here!

contains: parents eddie and reader. oliver is adopted by you and eddie. past talk of parent trauma and neglect. a little angsty, a lot fluffy <3

“Ollie, look,” You nodded, pulling the young boy’s attention to the center of the mall, right outside the food court, settled in mounds of fake snow and twinkling snowflake lights was Santa’s Village. Children of all ages jumped with excitement, giddy at the chance to tell the man at the end perched on a red velvet throne, what they desperately wanted for Christmas. Their parents handing over wads of cash for a photo, a framed memory they could cherish for years. 

This was the first year you and Eddie would get the chance.

“Do you want to go see Santa?” You asked, grinning down at him with a smile so bright, it rivaled the lights around you. 

Oliver didn’t match your excitement. Instead he looked over solemnly, head shaking in a sad bob that had your stomach plummeting. “No, ‘s okay.” Oliver shrugged. 

You blinked, looking up at the lines. “It’s ok if you do.” You pressed gently, a soft smile to reassure him. He was still getting used to you and Eddie paying for everything, still skittish about it even after the judge made you his legal guardians. “I can go with you, if you want. I just want to make sure you tell Santa so he can get you what you want.” 

Oliver shook his head again, bottom lip jutting gently, small enough to have your face dropping in worry. “No, it’s ok.” He shook his head. “Santa never comes to my house anyways. I don’t think he knows about me, or he forgets.” 

“What do you mean, honey?” Your voice was strained with emotion, trying desperately to stay level, not to sound upset though your stomach was twisting in the most painful way. 

Oliver looked up at you through long, dark lashes. “He never came to my house.” He muttered, a tiny huff of a sigh that made you want to sob. “I’d always send him the letters at school, but he never came.” 

You felt every ounce of his disappointment, bore it heavy on your heart. Your throat constricted, unable to find the right words. What did you say to that? What could you say to make it better? You didn’t know, so instead you nodded, squeezing his hand gently, stopping for a cookie at the small corner kiosk and heading towards the music store Eddie was at. The once cheery, festive music felt mocking now, playing through the speakers. 

Eddie stood by the counter, strumming the newly repaired string of his guitar to test it. His face lit up, excited to show you how they’d fixed it, how much better it sounded now with a proper tune up. Instead, his smile fell. 

“Hey,” Eddie muttered, hand running over Oliver’s locks, ruffling them in an affectionate greeting that had him giggling. “What’s goin’ on?” 

You didn’t meet his gaze, swallowing the burning bile that rose in the back of your throat, eyes downcast towards Oliver. “Hey, you alright?” Eddie muttered, his hand touching yours, calloused thumb gliding across your knuckles. “Somethin’ happen?” 

“No,” He knew you were lying, your voice tight the way it was when something was wrong. “Did you get it fixed?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie frowned, scanning your features carefully. “Are you sure-” 

“-Can I go look at the CDs?” Oliver pointed towards the aisles of CDs, hand gently pulling yorus for attention. 

You nodded. “Stay towards the front, ok? Where we can see you. If you can’t see us-” 

“-Then you can’t see me.” Oliver grinned. “I will.” He chirped, giddily skipping over to the CDs. Somehow, his innocent happiness made your heart break more. 

“Hey, look at me, baby.” Eddie muttered, knuckle brushing under your chin lightly, pulling your gaze into his. “What’s’a matter? What’s wrong?” 

You pressed your lips together to stop the shake you felt coming. “I, uh, I asked Ollie if he wanted to see Santa. Tell him what he wanted for Christmas so we could get an idea for him.” Your gaze wandered to the small boy, on his tiptoes to flick through the CDs in the rock section- the ones he was starting to favor since listening with Eddie. 

“He said,” You swallowed, voice quivering with emotions that you were trying your best to keep in. “He said Santa never visited him, Eddie. He thinks he forgets him every year.” 

Eddie watched your face crumble, turning away to try and compose yourself. His own heart dropping. Rushes of his own childhood, the hope that maybe this year Santa would visit if he stole the Borden’s lights, threw them up on his roof instead so Santa could see. He even kept his light on so Santa would know he was home, but still, he never came. 

Until he stayed with Wayne. 

“Does he,” Eddie ducked, eyes cutting around the store. “He still, like, believes in him and all that?” 

You paused, brows furrowing lightly. “Yeah, I mean, I think he does-” 

“-I got it.” Eddie nodded, finality in his tone. “I got it, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“Ed, wait, just-” You stopped him, eyes cutting to Oliver. “You can’t make him, ok? If he doesn’t want to, then we should respect that.” 

“I’m not gonna make him, baby.” Eddie smiled softly. “I got it, ok. You trust me?” You nodded slowly. You did trust Eddie, in every way with everything. 

“Then let me handle this, alright? Don’t worry about it.” Eddie pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, squeezing your hip lovingly, walking back to the counter to gather his guitar. 

“Hey, Ollie, gotta ask you somethin’, little guy.” Eddie hummed, strumming his guitar, tongue poked out in concentration. 

Oliver was in front of him, mindlessly playing with his own action figures while Eddie practiced, flipping Spider-Man off the couch cushions and launching him over the coffee table with pure childlike imagination. “Yeah?” 

Eddie watched him carefully, trying to play it cool, easy- not to scare the kid. “Mama told me something,” The beloved name you’d adorned before the papers went through. Eddie had christened you with it happily, grinning at the way it made you gleam when he’d call you it. “Said you didn’t want to see Santa.” 

Oliver stopped, action figure hanging in midair, eyes wide like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yeah.” Oliver said quietly. Eddie knew he was trying to read his tone, see if he was mad or upset. 

Eddie smiled at him softly, playfully throwing a hand out to him. “Dude, why?” He grinned. “You gotta tell the big man what you want for Christmas.” 

Oliver’s head lowered, dragging the plastic feet of the superhero across the coffee table. “Santa doesn’t come to visit me.” He mumbled. “He never has.” 

Eddie tried not to let his face falter. He knew it was coming, and it still hurt. Instead, he tried to remember what Wayne said, exactly how he’d said it and convinced him years ago when he was in Ollie’s shoes, hurt and disappointed. 

“He didn’t?” Eddie cocked his head to the side. Oliver shook his head, face falling. “That’s weird.” Eddie quipped, lips twisting in thought. He could feel Oliver’s eyes on him curiously, he wanted to play it up for him. “You know, I bet you’re not registered.” 

Oliver blinked. “Registered?” 

“Yeah, your parents,” Eddie cringed at the mention. “You, uh, you have to register everyone to Santa. There’s a lot of kids in the world, and he can lose count sometimes. If you move or if you have more kids, anything, you gotta get them registered so he’ll know. Kinda like attendance, y’know?” It wasn’t nearly as smooth as when Wayne did it, much more rambling, but Oliver’s eyes lit up. 

“You do?” Oliver asked, setting Spider-Man down completely. 

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, setting his own guitar down on the stand. “I’ve been meaning to call anyways, make sure they were sending me a form down so I could let them know that you’re here now. Let me just call really quick.” 

Oliver followed him, close on Eddie’s heels into the kitchen, where you were cutting carrots for the soup. “Hey, babe,” Eddie called, opening the junk drawer by the sink. “Have you seen the phone book?” 

“The phone book?” You frowned, turning to look over your shoulder at them. “It should be under the coffee table.” 

“No, the one for the North Pole.” Eddie muttered, eyes lifting to yours, shooting you a wide eyed look. 

You paused, tracking his sharp side eyed glance to Oliver, who’s eyes were wide and hopeful, hanging on Eddie’s every word. “Oh,” You squeaked. “Um, I think I put it in the address book in my purse.” 

Eddie fumbled through the contents of your bag, swiping the floral printed contact book with a sloppy grin. “Ah, found it.” He muttered, tongue poking out when he thumbed through the names and numbers. 

“Can I see?” Oliver asked, rising on his tip-toes to look over the edge of the book. 

“Hey, no way, c’mon.” Eddie shook his head. “Santa only gives it to parents. So we can call when you’ve been bad, or when we move and stuff. Can’t give it out or he’ll be mad.” 

Oliver hesitated, scanning Eddie’s face carefully. He was a little suspect, but Eddie said it so confidently, it was hard not to be convinced- hell, you were convinced, listening with careful amusement from the kitchen. 

Eddie pulled the phone off the hook, dialing the number with a covered hand, winking over at Oliver playfully. The line rang and rang and rang, until-

“Hello?” 

“Hi, this is Eddie- sorry, Edward Munson.” Eddie said cheerfully into the phone, just like he would talking to a customer service rep. “I was needing to talk to someone about registering a new house to Santa’s route.” 

There was a pause, the rustling of the line on the other end. “Eddie, what the fuck- are you high?” Dustin Henderson’s confused voice rang from the other end. 

Eddie grinned, jaw clenching at annoyance he tried to hide. Thankfully, Oliver didn’t seem to notice, eyes shining with awe at the phone call. “Yeah, we were just needing to talk to someone about registering our house for Santa to stop at.” Eddie’s tone was clipped behind feigned cheerfulness. “We have Oliver living here now, and we wanted to get the form sent.” 

“Eddie, what-” Dustin laughed on the other end. “Are you messing with me? You’re messing with me.” 

“Yeah, just a second-” Eddie covered the phone, leaning towards Oliver. “Ollie, can you grab my wallet? By the bed?” 

Oliver nodded, scampering down the hall. Eddie waited before turning, cradling the phone close to his mouth. “Henderson, play the fuck along, ok? I told Oliver I was calling the North Pole.” 

Dustin laughed, a loud cackle of a laugh, full belly and entertained. “Why? What are you doing-” 

“-Because Santa has never visited him.” Eddie hissed lowly, ceasing Dustin’s laughter. “And I am trying to get the registration form just to make sure we get added on Santa’s route, so Santa will be sure to visit us this year.” Eddie’s tone lifted, changing instantly back to that cheery tone he had before when Oliver ran in. 

“Thanks, bud.” Eddie grinned, taking the wallet. “Just my license number?” He hummed, flicking it open. 

“Eddie, I’m-I’m sorry, man. I thought you were messin’ with me-” 

“-Yeah, it’s W23-016.” Eddie cut the other man off through gritted teeth. “And it’s Oliver Munson. He’s eight, and his new address is 172 Azalea Lane in Hawkins, Indiana.” 

The line was silent. “What do you want me to do here, Eddie? Like pretend-” 

“Yeah, if you can send the form here, that would be great.” Eddie fought back an eye roll. He should’ve called Steve. “And my wife wanted me to ask, can Oliver go see Santa now and tell him what he wants, or should he wait until after we mail the form back?” 

“Uh, now? Is that what you want me to say? Dude, why didn’t you call me before so I could prepare-” Dustin huffed. 

“Great. We’ll get that filled out, and we’ll go next weekend.” Eddie smiled over at Oliver, heart swelling with warmth over the irritation he felt. “Thanks so much for your help, Nog. Have a good one.” 

“Oh, wow, use my ninth grade dwarf name. Real mature-” Eddie didn’t wait to hear the rest of Dustin’s whining, slapping the phone on the receiver. 

Oliver was bouncing, practically exploding with anticipation and excitement. You thought your heart might burst at the sight. “They’re sending it over.” Eddie clapped his hands. “Told you it was easy, Ollie. They said you just have to sign something when it comes, and we can send it back off to the North Pole, and can go see Santa next week.” 

“Wow,” Oliver beamed, smiling at you. “Thank you.” He muttered, barreling into Eddie’s side, squeezing his thighs in a tight, loving hug.

“You’re welcome, bud.” Eddie smiled, patting his head affectionately. “Can you go put my guitar back in the garage? In the case, please? Make sure to fasten it.” 

Eddie waited until Oliver was running back into the living room to slide over to you. Your eyes shining with adoration, awe. “That was the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever seen, Ed.” You muttered, arms wrapping around his torso. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with you in my whole life.” 

“C’mon,” Eddie blushed, rocking you gently, a half stepped sway. “Not gonna let the kid have a bad Christmas.” 

“How did- How did you even come up with that?” You blinked, chin resting against his chest. “That was genius.” 

“Well, gotta give credit to Wayne.” Eddie shrugged. “He, uh, he did it first. When I came to live with him the first time after my mom passed. Dad hadn’t got me a gift since she died, too fucked up to remember the whole Santa thing. So Wayne told me it was because he forgot to register my house after we moved. I believed it. Made me feel better thinkin’ my dad just forgot to register the house, instead of forgettin’ me, y’know?” Eddie muttered, voice dropping lowly. 

Your heart ached in the most uncomfortable way, squeezing him tighter into your chest. “It was sweet.” You whispered, arms circling around his waist, pressing a kiss to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, right over his heart. It made him flush with heat. “Thank you for that.” 

“Baby, do you have construction paper?” Eddie asked, sliding into your classroom. It was still early, the sun just barely lifting into the grayed Indiana morning sky, frost still fogging at the windows. 

“Um, in the cabinet in the red drawer.” You pointed to the arts and crafts area, neatly organized safety scissors and crayons tucked away. “What are you doing?” 

“I got this idea last night. Ollie’s real excited-” Eddie paused, scanning the classroom for the little boy. 

“He went down to the gym with Mrs. Bronski.” You waved it off lightly, passing out the morning activity papers to each of the spots. “Excited about what?” 

“Excited about Santa this weekend.” Eddie muttered, flipping through the stack of construction paper, shimmying out a sheet of red and green. “Anyways, I got this idea about making the form. I found these letter stamps and ink pads in the art room, asked Lois if I could borrow them and she’s letting me. I think it’d be better printed like that so it look more legit, ya know?” 

You beamed, smiling brightly under the fluorescent lights of the classroom, making Eddie’s heart skip. “Yeah, that’s- that’s really sweet, Ed.” 

Eddie paused, shoulder’s tensing slightly, that familiar wide eyed, scared look creeping into his features. “You- It’s stupid, isn’t it?” He asked, voice tight. “I, fuck- sorry- I just, I dunno I thought it would be cool. Better than… It doesn’t matter. That was too much, I’m sorry, I just got excited-” 

“Eddie, what?” You lifted a brow, tone steady and calm, like it always was when he’d spin out like this. “Ed, I think that’s a great idea. I think it’s really sweet, and I think Ollie will love it.” 

Eddie scanned your features, looking for any reason not to believe you- a quirk in your lips, a blink that felt off, anything. “Are you sure? It’s not… too much?” 

“You think I’d judge you for doing too much?” You tilt your head to the side playfully. “I’m jealous I didn’t think of it because it’s perfect, Eddie. All of it. You’re just,” Your breath hitched, heart fluttering at the sight of him. “You’re just a really good dad, and it makes me so inexplicably happy that I get to be with you. Watch you be a good dad, and a good husband, and just be with you. I’m so happy with you.”  

Eddie blushed, cheeks reddening at your words. If you weren’t in school, the looming threat of HR surrounding you, he’d push you up against the poster board, make out with you right there. 

“Thank you.” Eddie muttered instead, looking down at his work boots, cheeks burning with the praise. “I, uh, I- yeah, I feel the same way, y’know. About you, and you’re a good mom- the best mom.” You rolled your eyes bashfully, grabbing his hand, squeezing it softly. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Steve grinned, head ducking in your doorway. Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing with exasperation. “Gotta go get the kids. Do you want me to walk yours up too?” 

“No, I’ve got it.” You smile politely. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll be right there.” 

Eddie was already reaching for your lanyard of keys, dropping them in your hand, pressing a sweet, parting kiss to your cheek quickly. 

He worked tirelessly in his tiny janitor’s closet, pulling out a broken ruler to make sure it was lined correctly, taking breaks in between the lunch cleanup and fixing a ceiling light, until it was perfect. 

Oliver was thrilled when Eddie came home, the bright red paper in his hand. “Guess what came in the mail today, Ollie?” Eddie sang in a silly tone, a grin so wide and dazzling it made you want to melt. 

Oliver signed the dotted line with careful, slanted handwriting. You thought you were going to cry seeing him sign Oliver Munson beaming with pride at the last name that was all his now. 

Eddie snuck it back into your bedroom after going to “mail the letter back”, neatly laying it in your bedside drawer. That night, the two of you lied in bed, looking over every careful detail of the paper, your own prized possession. 

“How long did this take you?” You muttered, fingertip tracing over Oliver’s pen scrawled signature, lip trembling all over again. 

“Not too long,” Eddie’s chest rumbled under you, lips pressed into your hair, holding you against him as close as possible. “Worst part was trying to make sure I didn’t miss a letter or something. I started on green but fucked up Santa. Spelled Satan, so had to start over.” 

You laughed, a small, watery giggle that had Eddie’s grin on you tightening, an affectionate squeeze to your hip. “Yeah, that might have him confused.” You beam, head lolling back on Eddie’s shoulder to look up at him. “He was so excited though, I don’t think he would have cared.” 

Eddie’s lips curled in a soft smile, hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in for a sweet kiss- the kind that left your head reeling with devotion, letting him press you back into the pillows, body sliding on top of yours. 

“Wait,” You panted, tapping on his chest gently. 

Eddie frowned, rolling off of you. “‘M sorry. I thought you wanted to-” 

You placed the paper back in your bedside drawer, neatly tucking it under a book so it wouldn’t get crinkled. “I didn’t want it to rip.” You smiled softly, flicking off the lamp. 

Eddie could see your eyes, glowing with that devious hint that had his heart jumping with excitement. You crawled over him, legs straddling either side of his hips, your hands in his hair this time, pressing him into the pillow, pinning him with a feverish kiss that left him reeling.

#oneforthemunny #janitor!eddie munson #janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader #janitor!eddie #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson angst #oliver munson #wayne munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington au #steve harrington #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #munnysholidays #eddie munson christmas

[twst-trash]

Oops, All Babies!

Also affectionately dubbed My Harem’s Children Came to Find Me in My Own Timeline!

summary:

Based off of this drabble that I had no idea would be so popular. Thank you to the person who commissioned this second part and allowed me to crank it out faster!

Now a mother of 23 six-year-olds, you’re tasked with keeping all of their little emotions in check. If that wasn’t hard enough, you also have 23 fathers-to-be barking up your door in a dick-measuring contest to see who’s the most fit to be your spouse.

content: fem!reader x literally everyone, reader has children (in alternate timelines), sfw.

Ambrose the 63rd doesn’t quite know what to do about Dire Crowley’s sudden visit to the Royal Sword Academy grounds. The students were spooked to see the feathered man rush past them as his cape swept the halls, striding past each student with reckless abandon. Ambrose’s office door is nearly flung off of its hinges by Crowley’s over enthusiastic swing.

“Lord Crowley,” he nods in the direction of the man, wizened features twisted with confusion. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save the pleasantries, I implore you.” He wheezes, winded from his walk up RSA’s seemingly endless staircases. “There’s been a dilemma.”

At first, Ambrose believes it’s simply Crowley’s flair for the dramatic talking- but the other headmaster is twitchy, losing feathers by the minute. As out of character it is that Crowley sought help from the likes of himself, it would be even more out of character for Ambrose to turn a blind eye to a compatriot in need. “Very well. What plagues Night Raven Academy?”

Crowley takes a deep, stuttering breath. The next word out of his mouth is spoken like a curse, as if uttering its name alone was enough to doom them both. “Children.”

Meanwhile, in Heartslabyul…

“Smile for daddy, baby!”

Cater’s photo gallery is filled to the brim with his child’s face, a perfect blend of his and your features. The boy loves the attention- something clearly inherited by his father- happily standing still or posing for the many, many photos his dad took of him. Cater scoops the boy into his arms and leads him back to the tea garden, where you sip tea and watch over your children scattered about the yard.

The Heartslabyul dormitory is more than stimulating enough for the kids, you have come to find out, as you watch Ace and Deuce’s respective children run amok. The boys are in a fierce competition with each other, constantly trying to one-up the other, whether that be who was the fastest or who could jump the farthest or even who could spell the most words correctly. You smile over your teacup at them, their behaviors mimicking that of their fathers’ all too well.

“My kid is definitely beating yours.” Ace pipes in from his seat at the table. The strawberry tart that sits in front of him has tiny finger marks from where his kid had ungainly dug his hands into for a piece, but he seems mostly unphased by the ordeal, shoving a forkful in his mouth while Deuce fumes.

“Hah? Wanna run that by me again?” Deuce starts indignantly, cocking his head to the side as if it were a threat.

“Drop the delinquent act in front of the children, Juice.” Ace snaps back, and Deuce backs down, his anger replaced by a reluctant grumble. “Don’t want them picking up any bad habits.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deuce mumbles, looking softly at his child, whose running had torn up much of Heartslabyul’s once pristine sod. You squeeze Deuce’s hand reassuringly, still amused at the blatant similarities between father and son.

You shift your gaze to meet Riddle’s from across the table. It’s almost comical, the contrast between his burning red face and his collected composure. The grip on his teacup is far too strong for a person unaffected by the current circumstance. You know exactly what’s running through his head right now: these kids are breaking every single one of the Queen’s rules.

Still, with his own son perfectly copying his demeanor, from his posture to his tight teacup grip, Riddle lets himself relax under his son’s purposeful watch. He’s different from his mom- you know he’d be a good dad.

To your left, Trey is explaining to his daughter in his lap about how he made all of the pastries for the tea party. Her eyes glow, shining with interest as she surveys Trey’s impressive arrangement of treats. Unlike Ace’s kid, her fascination with the baked goods was less because she was hungry for them, but because she was curious about them. You could tell that she already had the makings of a good cook.

Ace and Deuce spring to their feet when they hear a loud thud from the other side of the hedge maze. It could only be their children. Even when going to save them, they look like they’re in a competition against each other.

Cater takes the opportunity to sit next to you, child situated on his lap. You smile up at the small boy, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Cater follows suit, kissing the other side of his face as well. The child giggles, clearly pleased with the attention showered upon him.

“We’d be the best parents~” Cater laughs to himself, ruffling his son’s hair, “Don’t you think, Prefect?”

“Not as good as me-“ Ace’s voice rings, followed shortly by Deuce’s protest of ‘or me!’ from the other side of the hedge maze.

“I think we’d be the best parents.” Trey pipes in, a charming smile on his face. “I’ve got a lot of experience, you know. Raising my siblings is no joke.”

“Prefect, I think we all know that we’d be the best parental duo.” Riddle states, to which the mini version of him nods.

“So,” Cater tries again, his boy waiting just as expectantly. “Who do you think the best dad is?”

“I-“ You sputter, not expecting to be put on the spot like that. “I-I have to go! Lots of kids to see, you know?”

And with a kiss on the head to all of your children (and, regrettably for them, none of the fathers), you’re off to see the rest of your brood.

Later, in Savanaclaw…

“Get off me.” Leona sleepily grumbles. “Now. Or else.”

“Not scared of you, papa!” His- no. His and your daughter exclaims, a toothy smile stretched across her face. She looks so much like you- aside from the beastman features, her tail and ears and killer canines to match. “Mama wants you to wake up.”

“I do.” You begrudgingly say, watching as the beastman’s ear twitches at the sound of your voice. “Get up. Or else.”

Leona grumbles but surprisingly gets out of bed. His daughter squeals, happy to see her father be dragged out of sleep, and goes to hug his leg.

“Damn anklebiter.” Leona groans, but he makes no effort to remove the small child from his calf.

Moving to the Savanaclaw common room, you’re greeted by the sight of Ruggie and his son play-wrestling. Ruggie lets his son pin him easily, laughing breathily when his son lets out a victory screech.

Jack is also in the common room, doing part of his daily workout regimen. His usual routine usually included a few reps of push-ups, and today was no exception. Except, of course, for the little wolf beastman sitting atop his back, legs crossed as his father worked out.

The Savanaclaw boys were all very physical. It makes you wonder about your daily lives with them, if you were to end up with any of them. Would your days be spent underneath the hot sun, running, playing, and training your kids to be in peak physical condition? You’re not sure you can handle all that. But the children in front of you, so happy and content with their fathers, makes you reconsider.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and the peaceful little symbiosis happening within the common area is altogether ripped apart.

“You’re delusional if you think this timeline belongs to anyone else.” Leona grouses, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I already have that herbivore wrapped around my finger.”

“Riiiight.” Ruggie says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it. The Prefect likes me and my kid better, no question about it.”

Jack scoffs. It’s unusual to see him butt into arguments, but he can’t help himself from putting his two cents in on this particular situation. “With all due respect, Leona, I’m not sure that you’re the most qualified to be a father, considering your daughter’s been clinging to you for the past half an hour, and you’ve barely acknowledged her.”

Plus, he adds in his mind, I’m clearly the best fit to be a parent here.

Leona growls, but heeds Jack's warning and scoops his child up. Her eyes immediately light up as he lifts her. She really does look like you- and like him- which stirs something unfamiliar within him. (Parental instinct, in your lion boy? It’s more likely than you think.)

“Wonder how many times it took us for her to pop up.”

His statement dawns on you slowly, causing you to smack his chest indignantly.

“You’re disgusting.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“What? I’m just sayin’ what we’re all thinking.”

“I hope there’s a timeline where I kick you square in the balls so you can’t have children.”

Leona covers his daughter’s ears and tsks at you. “Is that any way to speak in front of our damn kid?”

Parents of the year, all of them.

Even later, in Octavinelle…

Azul’s kid is, regrettably, just as much of a crybaby as he is. In different ways, granted. While Azul could mask his emotions with layer upon layer of false confidence and business expertise, his daughter had yet to find out how to do so. Instead, her true and honest emotions come out whenever they please. It’s refreshing- the sincerity. Azul was surprisingly good at comforting her, though, talking her through her emotions in a surprising display of gentle parenting.

You can’t tell Jade and Floyd’s kids apart. It’s almost inevitable that their children would look the same, they’re identical twins, of course they’re going to look the same. But unlike their fathers, even their personalities are a little hard to match. Jade’s daughter has a lot of qualities that Floyd has, with her silly demeanor and take-no-shit attitude, even at her age. Floyd’s daughter, on the other hand, seems much more serious than her… cousin? Half-sister? The multidimensional travel was almost as confusing as the fact that they were related from both sides of the family. Ugh.

“Shrimpy’s gonna have my babies.”

You gulp at the implication of the plural tense, Floyd’s mood suddenly shifting and making the air in the Monstro Lounge unbearably tense.

“Now now, Floyd.” Azul chastises, voice low. “No one said the Prefect wouldn’t- just maybe not in this timeline.”

“Azul.” Jade says with a warning smile. “Please don’t talk to Floyd like that- we don’t know what could happen between now and then. It could be any of us- the ones that are still around, that is.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that Jade is scarier than Floyd half of the time.

You slowly back your way out from the Monstro Lounge, not wanting to know what went on behind those closed doors after you left.

Later, later, in Scarabia…

To your surprise, Kalim and Jamil’s kids seem to like each other a lot.

You watch as they splash around in the oasis together, laughing and dancing and just having a good time. The sun in Scarabia was sweltering, unrelenting as your body sweats underneath it, but being able to watch your kids makes it feel a little better.

Kalim’s boy is so much like him- a beaming light of cheerful energy. If you try to imagine a future with the two of them, you can envision it being one of smiles and laughter. You can also envision the slightly less ideal scenario of having two Kalims around. Of course it would be lovely, but it would be draining.

Jamil’s kid seemed quite unlike Jamil himself at first glance, but upon spending time with the boy, you were quick to find out that he was just as talented as his father. Academically smart, good at dancing and singing- it seemed as though the kid was just like Jamil, but without holding himself back.

“I can’t wait for our kids to be friends in the future!” Kalim beams, oblivious to the greater implications.

“There’s no way that our kids can be friends.” Jamil tries to explain, holding the bridge of his nose to soothe the impending headache.

Kalim ponders this for a moment before lighting back up. “Oh! Because they’d be brothers, right? Half-brothers, because the Prefect is their mom!”

The shorter boy smiles as if he had solved Jamil’s riddle, to which Jamil just sighs. It seems as if he had resigned himself to let Kalim think whatever he wanted.

You take the moment to slip out of Scarabia undetected.

Later still, in Pomefiore…

Rook’s kid has the most uncanny way of sneaking up behind you. No matter how  aware of your surroundings you think you are, you most certainly are not aware enough for Rook’s child. Her favorite move is to ambush you from behind, exclaiming ‘mommy!’ as she practically tackles you to the ground. A hunter’s instinct is genetic, apparently.

Epel’s kid is tall for a kindergartner. It makes him both proud and envious at the same time. Would his kid surpass him in manliness even at age 6? These were the thoughts that Epel tried to shoo away as he played with his son, who was strong, too, he had come to find out. Still, when prompted by Vil, his son was more than happy to offer himself to the facials and makeup that came his way. It made Epel’s head spin.

Vil’s child is beautiful- of course he is- and completely idolizes his father. The three of you spend a lot of time watching Vil’s movies together, laughing as your son plays along to Vil’s parts, reciting them by memory. He loves when his father braids his hair, loves taking care of himself, and is hooked on a simplified version of Vil’s skincare routine already.

The Pomefiore students don’t outwardly discuss among themselves who they believe to be the father in their dimension- they all believe it to be themselves, obviously. That doesn’t stop them from talking shit about the other dorms, though.

“Well, all I know is that it surely isn’t Kingscholar’s timeline…” Vil likes to mumble underneath his breath. “The darkest timeline, that one is.”

After a short passage of time, in Inginhyde…

Idia’s son loves his Uncle Ortho. You can see so many similarities between the two of them, more so than him and Idia. The boy is an extrovert, for one. He had been socializing with the other kids from the other dorms, much to Idia’s chagrin. Still, if there was one thing that he and his son could relate to, it was video games.

It’s cute to watch them bond over the games that they both like, their eyes sparkling in the same way when presented with their favorite series, gushing about characters and gameplay and everything else in-between.

You are more than happy to sit in Idia’s room and watch them play, commenting here and there about their performance, and even hopping in to play sometimes. It warms your heart to see Idia get along so swimmingly with his son.

“I-I’ve run the probabilities through this algorithm I’ve created.” Idia suddenly admits, the tips of his hair flaring pink in embarrassment. “The chances of me- of us ending up together is 1 in 300. That’s only a 0.33% pull rate! That’s one of the most broken rates I’ve ever seen in any gatcha.”

He huffs, an uncomfortable wash of disappointment caressing his features, voice suddenly muttering. “Shitty probabilities for the good end.”

He’s muttering more about how he needs to ‘level up his charisma stat for a higher chance’ or something of that nature when you decide to stay just a little longer. You squeeze his hand and watch as your two boys- in some dimension- play games together, occasionally hopping in and switching out with either of them.

Eventually, in Diasomnia…

The inhabitants of Diasomnia are surprisingly cohabitual with their children. Given Lilia’s role of caretaker, it almost makes sense- after all, Lilia’s child is essentially Silver’s brother, and Silver’s child is Lilia’s grandchild… this whole thing really does make your head hurt.

Lilia never thought that he’d have a biological child. He had raised many children in his life- was still raising Silver and Malleus, essentially- but seeing the way his and your genes mixed together was fascinating to him. He loved that the child had your nose and his eyes and pointy teeth. Lilia would raise a million of them if he could.

Silver’s child is just as sleepy as he is. Most of the time you can find them passed out on the same couch, or lying underneath a tree with their head in his lap. When the three of you snuggle together, something you had begun to do when Silver’s kid kept insisting that you should, it feels so comforting- like you really could be family.

Sebek’s child is a clone of him, you swear. He walks like him, talks like him, and even worships Malleus like him. You suppose it makes sense- once Sebek is too old to continue serving Malleus, who would be better to take up his mantle than his own son?

And Malleus… Well, Malleus has been over the moon since he found out the two of you had a child together. He’s so gentle with your kid, and you for that matter. He held the both of you as if you would break if he held on too tight. He loves you, he loves your child, and he does everything in his power to make sure you know that.

“Papa?” The child pipes up, inquisitively.

“Yes, darling?”

“Where’s the baby in Mama’s stomach?”

It takes a moment for you and Malleus to realize what he had said. Two kids. It affirms to him it wasn’t just a mistake, that you had chosen to love him as he had chosen to love you.

Malleus’ heart couldn’t be fuller.

At last, in the Teacher’s Lounge…

Unbeknownst to you, two other children had popped up out of the blue and manifested within the teacher’s lounge.

When Ambrose the 63rd and Crowley return to Night Raven College, they're surprised to see Crewel already sitting in the Teacher’s Lounge with two young boys. One looks suspiciously like Crewel, his hair swooped over the same way and same intense gray eyes. The other sits next to him, wearing a handmade mask that looks suspiciously like Crowley’s own.

“Seems we have two more possible puppies in the fray.” Crewel says, ruffling his son’s hair in the same way you would pet a dog. “Isn’t that something?”

“Not from this timeline, clearly. No mystery there.” Crowley sighs, though a strange fondness for the boy overtakes him as the diy-crow’s mask slips from his face, revealing a shining golden eye, much like his own. He adjusts the mask- a paper plate cut in half with crudely glued feathers and a beak messily drawn on with sharpie- for his son, a soft smile taking over Crowley’s face despite himself.

Crowley sends for you (and all of your children and fathers-to-be shortly after that), and your stomach drops when you see two more kids.

You imagine yourself older, perhaps a professor at Night Raven College, teaching your favorite subject. Maybe you would’ve fallen in love with them by bumping into each other in the hallways, or reaching for the creamer at the same time in the Teacher’s Lounge. Before you know it, the kids are wrapping themselves around you, the same chorus of ‘mama, mama, mama!’ that you’ve come to get used to. You smile at them and kiss them on their foreheads before sitting down to listen to what Crowley had gathered you all for.

“I had to dig into the recesses of Royal Sword Academy’s archives for these, but I was finally able to find them.” Ambrose begins, fishing out three rainbow colored stones from his pockets. They shine iridescently, splashing the walls with prismatic color when they catch the light. “They’re multidimensional travel stones. They’re nearly impossible to find in the wild, and synthetically made duplicates are simply not strong enough to pull a person more than one-to-two multidimensional branches away.”

“We’ll install this into a specialized mirror capable of interdimensional travel.  These will send the children home,” Crowley begins, his gaze shifting to you. “And it has the power to send you home, too, Prefect.”

Oh.

This hush is even more painful than the one that had blanketed your previous conversation about the children. They were all so caught up wondering whose timeline won out in the end that they hadn’t stopped to think of the alternate outcome- that it was no one’s.

No, not no one’s. Yours.

You reach out to Ambrose and trace your finger down the surface of the smooth stone laying flat in his palm- but something happens when you run your hands along those stones.

A thousand different images flash through your head. It’s a blinding light show of futures to come and pasts rewritten. Your physical body bleeds into the light, feeling every outcome as if they were written into your molecules. Every heartbreak, every joy melded together and crashed into each other and coursed through your veins. Is this it? Which timeline is mine?

Your body is sapped back into your physical form as a cacophony of voices call your name. Your hands reflexively jump from the stones, as if you had been burned, taking several steps back as you caught your breath. Your eyes, now firmly placed back into your skull, scan over the sea of worried faces.

Ambrose approaches you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, reeling you back into reality.

“They’ll take you home when we plug them into the mirror.” He explains. “We can do it now with the children, or we can do it later- it’s purely up to you.”

You look around the room, surveying the grim expressions of everyone around you.

“Well,” You begin, your voice pattering off at the end. Their friendship, camaraderie, and dedication to you (hell, to your hypothetical babies, too) were enough to sway your decision. “… It would be a shame not to finish the semester.”

—-

The boys give their tearful goodbyes to their children. You really had started to love them as your own. Even people you weren’t sure would be attached to their kids were having a hard time letting go.

When the last child slips into the portal, there’s a sad empty feeling that wells within everyone’s stomach.

“In light of everything,” Crowley begins, “The Prefect will stay here until the end of the semester- and then it’s her choice if she decides to go home or not.”

And that invigorates the boys once more. No, they weren’t hopeless, they did have a chance with you- but neither would their fate be set in stone. They needed to work to prove that they were worth staying for.

And maybe someday, one of them might see their child, smiling up at them with all the warmth and love a child can give to their parents, once again.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona x reader #Idia x reader #Vil x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

hi! i literally love how you write❤️

could you write a fluff with a little bit of nsfw (if you dont take nsfw requests, just do it all fluff, i love fluff so i doesnt bother me) with a fem reader x cloud?

here's how i want the story, but you can obviosuly change it to your preferences.

y/n was a childood friend of cloud,and she didnt see him in A LOT of years. then she encounters him and they basically talk about rhe the good old times. a month passes and it's y/n's birthday, they all celebrate at the bar and give y/n a present. then it's cloud turn to give her the present, and he gives her a boquet and a letter with some photos from much years ago. after that, he kisses her and she kisses back. after the birthday party, cloud was a little bit drunk so y/n took him at her house to take care of him and cloud gets all clingy and says things to y/n. (if you want to add some nsfw, you can add it in this part of the story)

thank you❤️

Happy Birthday Slowpoke

pairing : cloud strife x fem! reader

description : an unexpected reunion leads to birthday wishes, unspoken love confessions, and drunken kisses.

warnings : small make out sesh but no smut, drinking alcohol (clouds gets drunk)

Sector 7 gets quieter at night. Never silent. But quiet. Walking through the streets is much nicer at night when there aren't so many people pushing to get through. It’s easier to think. Easier to take in your surroundings. 

There’s a certain hum that brings you comfort as you walk through the nearly empty streets. You remember when you first came to Sector 7, nervous and scared, and still dealing with the aftershock of Nibelheim. 

Nibelheim. Cloud.

God. How was he still stuck so deep in your head after years? 

You missed him. Him and his stupid blond hair. 

It was embarrassing how fast your head would turn at the sight of any blond man. Any. Even children sometimes. You had to catch a second glance to make sure you hadn’t just seen your childhood friend run past you as he giggled with his friends. It was never him, but you hoped. 

The peace of your walk was disturbed by a man walking past you. Bright blond hair fluff led up like the feathers of a chocobo in black clothes, and heavy footsteps. He pays you no mind as he walks past you, but you force yourself to do a double take. 

But this man is different. Even with his back turned to you he feels familiar. His hair stands up, the way Clouds did when he was a child. He’s dressed in the garb of a SOLDIER with a big sword on his back, Clouds always promised he’d become a SOLDIER. And he even walks the same way Cloud would as a kid, trudging along his path, god forbid someone think of him as anything but independent.

It all feels too coincidental. And without thinking your lips open to speak, “Cloud?” 

“Hm?” The man turns, only his head and shoulder so as to not pay you too much care, to face you. And your mind is flooding with nostalgia.

You're running after a young boy, blond haired, breathless laughs leave yours and his mouths. 

“Cloud!!! Wait for me!!” You squeal after the older 

boy whose legs carry him much faster than you can keep up with. And your tired legs, mixed with your lack of available air, are making it harder to match his pace. 

For a minute you think he doesn’t hear you, or maybe, that he doesn't want to listen. But soon enough he skids to a stop, looking back at you as he pants lightly. He wears a stupid smile on his face, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry y/n.. I keep forgetting I’m too fast for you. Your little legs can’t keep up,” He teases and lets out a juvenile giggle.

Finally you meet his side, matching his breath, “They can so!”. 

“Yeah right slow poke.” A childlike pout appears on your face, fitting for an 8 year old you. Always pouting. Always following after Cloud. 

You were never really sure why Cloud kept you around. But when you were kids, it never really mattered for more than a second. You just liked being around him, and him you.

“It’s not fair. You're older, your legs are longer!” He smiles down at you, laughing between heavy breaths.

“Only a year older.” 

“Still!” He stays quiet for a minute, letting you catch your breath without teasing you further. 

When you finally straighten back up, he’s still showing a giddy smile on his lips. Without a word, he grabs your hand in his, and takes off running the same way he had been before. Only this time you can keep up with him, pulled behind him.

“Cloud!” 

“Hm?” He turns to look behind him, a wide smile full of teeth on his face and eyes bright and blue. Still hopeful. 

His eyes meet yours and you realize the same blue eyes are looking into yours, only they are tired and the hope of his youth has been long gone. Yours probably look the same, usually. But right now they are wide and beginning to tear up. And his pupils, blown in recognition, are nearly as wide as yours.

“Y/n?”

“Cloud!” In an instant you latched onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Your face squished against his hard chest, probably wetting the front of his tank top from the tears slipping from your eyes.

He’s hesitant, but eventually one hand lands on your back and the other grabs onto your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer to his body. When you were kids, hugs were nothing out of the ordinary, but this one feels so different. You’ve been longing to hug him since you were 13, longing to see him since you were 17.

It’s overwhelming, the amount of emotion flowing through your body. You're happy to see your best friend again. You're sad that you haven’t seen him in so long. And you're angry that he left without ever saying goodbye. 

“Y..you.. are you real?” 

You look up to find his voice, wiping away the wetness from your face. His hands move to touch your face, then to your shoulders and finally fall to his sides. 

“Yes, Cloud. I'm real. When..how.. It’s been years Cloud.” 

“I know.”

There are a million things you’d like to say to him. You’d like to scream at him and punch at his chest until he bruises, not likely you could hit him hard enough to leave any marks but you’d try. But then you want to hug him, and run through the streets with him hand and hand like when you were kids. You don’t know what to say to him, where to start, or if you even should. 

“I missed you.” 

“I know.” He doesn’t say it back, and the lack of emotion that he shows is almost aggravating. But you don’t make it known to him how annoyed you are at him for his underwhelming reaction to this reunion. 

You invite him back to your apartment and, with a lot of convincing no and many ‘pleases’, he agrees to join you for an hour tops. His hesitancy hurts your feelings, you don’t admit that to him though, god forbid he realize that you hadn’t changed much since you were young. Since he clearly had. 

“You can sit down, you know.” He raises his brows, your acknowledgment of his awkwardness unexpected, but he takes a seat at your small table. The chair he sits in is the perfect size for you, and while he’s not the tallest man you’ve ever encountered, he almost seems to not fit on it. 

He is so silent, it stirs up years of pent up sadness and frustration deep within you, and inside you deeper still a fury of anger festers. But you push it away, locking those emotions up for another night when you haven’t just stumbled into your best friend of 10 years after 4 years of being apart. And you offer him a drink. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 4 years?” He is silent, stoic, hides his face by taking a sip from the glass of water you offered him.

“Not tonight.” Your teeth grind together inside your mouth, holding back your tongue from spewing words better left unsaid. He must see the clench in your jaw, the anger and disappointment in your eyes, “But another time. I will.” 

You fill the rest of the night with slow, and awkward, conversation. He doesn't make much effort to initiate it, but he answers your earnest questions without any complaint. At least the ones that don’t involve his work, his past, his lack of a goodbye. So the night moves slowly.

It doesn’t feel like very long has passed at all by the time he tells you he has to leave. 

“Already?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry, my days are busy.” 

“Are you staying in Sector 7?” He nods, you're not appreciating this strong and silent thing he has going on. 

“Working?” Another nod. “Well..if you find yourself free next month, we’re celebrating my birthday at the Seventh Heaven..uh.. it’s Tifa's bar actually.!”

“I know.”

“Oh.. yeah I guess, you would’ve gone to see her.” 

“I didn’t go t- .. I’m sorry. I should go.” He walks to the door, posture straight and stoic expression broken by a look of pity for just a moment. You walk him out. 

You can’t help yourself from speaking as your eyes meet his back, your mind is lacking in self restraint tonight, “Will you come?” 

He faces you, mouth parted before a small smile plants itself there, “I’ll try, y/n, goodnight.” And he’s gone into the night with quickened steps.

“Hey! Have some faith in him. I’m sure he’ll make it.” Tifa leans over the counter with a bright smile, sliding a drink into your hands. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The bar isn’t full, but the people that matter are here, most of them anyway. 

Biggs and Wedge, probably already tipsy based on the volume they're producing, are playing darts in the corner. Barret sits on the other end of the bar, Marlene seated beside him as they whisper between each other. And Tifa stands in front of you, a positive grin lingering on her face. 

“Y/n!” Marlene springs off the barstool, with the help of her father, and rushes over to you with a clumsily wrapped gift in her hands. 

“For me? Well thank you, Marlene.” You smile down at her, gently taking the gift from her hands and unwrapping it to find a bracelet made of beads and charms. 

“I made it for you. And I have one too! See?” She holds up her wrist, which you hadn’t realized was hidden behind her back, to show you the matching bracelet she wears. You lift into your arms, holding her in a tight hug. 

“They’re perfect Marlene, thank you.” 

With her still in your arms, you resume conversation with Tifa, and are promptly joined by Barret. You love them, like family of course. But you are so focused on the lack of Clouds presence that you forget to fully no appreciate the ones around you. 

Tifa reaches behind her, into the fridge and pulls outs an obviously homemade cake. “We decorated it together,” She slides a wink Marlene’s way and begins lighting the candles. “Make a wish y/n.” 

You think for a moment, it’s childish that you're hoping for your wish to work so genuinely, but you take a deep breath and blow out your candles with a heavy breath. One sweep. 

“What’d you wish for y/n?” Marlene’s voice is loud beside you. 

“Hey now.. you know the rules, I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.” She pouts for a minute but her smile quickly returns when Tifa hands her a piece of cake. You take your own piece in your hands, sharing a smile with Tifa and Marlene. 

“Hey man! Good to see you. Glad you could make it.” 

Your eyes are moving faster than you can focus on the sound of Biggs’ words, finding the one person your wish standing in the doorway. In his hands he holds a bouquet, flowers of your favorite colors wrapped with paper and a pink bow.

He approaches you with a sheepish smile on his face, “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t know what to get you as a gift, I hope I got the colors right. Oh! And there’s this,” He reaches into his back pocket and hands you a sealed envelope. On its cover, your name is written in messy writing.

“These are ..beautiful, Cloud, thank you.” 

“Drink?” Tifa is cheery, as always, if not more so. 

“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a seat beside you and you try to hide the way your eyes linger on him. The muscles in his grown arms. The familiarity of his spiky hair. You're not so angry anymore, now that you've had time to process his return, rather longing for the relationship you had as kids. The closeness you’d been lacking in your friendships since he left.

“Are you gonna open it?” 

“What?” His voice brings you back to the moment, and you realize you’ve been ogling at him.

“The envelope..” 

“Oh! Yeah, right. Yeah.” 

You reach for it and carefully open it, trying not to rip the paper too badly. Tucked inside the envelope is a photo of the two of you as children and a folded up letter, reading : 

This is stupid. But I tried to write something so I wouldn’t have to say all this out loud.

I haven’t been around for a long time, so I don’t really know where we stand anymore. But as far as I know, you’ve been the only person I’ve been able to open up to about everything. 

Without you, I probably would’ve spent my childhood alone. 

When we were kids, I swore I’d be a SOLDIER. But to be honest it wasn’t all I thought it would be. And I’m sorry I left you for shinra.

And I know I should’ve said goodbye, and I probably hurt you when I left. But I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. 

You were my best friend or you are my best friend, doesn't matter. 

Happy Birthday Slowpoke.

He looks at you intensely as he tries to gauge your reaction. It’s a simple letter, and could be written by a child with a little effort. But it’s Cloud, and it’s the most you can ask from a man like him. It still has your hands wiping at your eyes.

“Hey, did you make her cry? No crying on your birthday!” Tifa returns, leaning over the counter to slide Cloud his drink, looking over at you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah I’m okay. I’m really good actually, thank you.. for this, Cloud”.

He nods, and you swear his cheeks redden, but he looks away before either you or Tifa can comment on it.

Cloud's drink is gone in moments, and he is asking for another, whilst making comfortable conversation with you. A ‘happy birthday’ ‘how’s your day been’ ‘what do you do for work now’ kind of comfortable. He doesn’t ask anything personal, does not dwell on the past, you almost wish he would. 

But you indulge him and his calculated questions, being satisfied with any conversation at all, and let the night flow.

It doesn't take long to realize that Cloud is not a drinker, or at least that he does not know his limits. It’s dark out now, and music plays from the jukebox, and Cloud sways drunkenly to a song. You can’t help but laugh, whilst also feeling weird seeing him be so free and not high strung. Not a SOLDIER, just a man.

He stands up, grabbing onto your arm to pull you over in front of the jukebox where Wedge is dancing with Tifa. 

“Careful Cloud!” You stumble after him, bumping into his chest as he pulls you. He doesn’t seem to notice, grabbing onto your hands to spin you and move you around. 

“You're a pretty good dancer now,” He moves you to face him, moving to the music still with a goofy smile on his face, “Do you remember.. when we..when we were kids and you would step on my feet ..everytime we danced.” 

You giggle at his slurred words, “You're so drunk right now.” 

“And you’re ..sso pretty..” He moves in closer, close enough that you can smell the liquor lingering on his lips. 

“Oh wow.. you're really drunk.. haha.” You make no effort to move away from him, but you laugh at his actions to relieve the awkwardness flowing from your body. 

“Mhm..” He closes the gap and places his lips against yours. Your hands find his chest, eyes falling close as you kiss him back. Your self control is weak, and you want to keep his lips against yours. But he's drunk, and your head is starting to spin.

Somehow you find the strength to push him away and he moves away with a pout on his puffy lips. 

“Let’s.. uh.. get you home, yeah?” 

“But I’m having fun!” He attempts to spin you, but he ends up making himself dizzy, “Actually, yeah.. that’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah.” You laugh at his flushed face, holding onto his arm as you say goodbye to everyone and leave the bar.

“Can we go to yours?” He doesn't let go of you, even after you’ve walked halfway down an empty Sector 7 road, but he has instead moved his grip to hold your hand to keep you close to him.

“My apartment?” 

“Mhm.”

“Yeah..yeah sure.” He leads you to your own apartment like he knows the route by heart, he’s only been there once and yet he acts like he lives there by the speed he finds it.

Once inside he collapses onto your bed, not much space in the apartments, so you suppose that was normal considering there was no couch. 

“Do you want some water?” He shakes his head, laying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. 

You move towards the stereo on the opposite wall, turning on the radio so there is noise for you to focus on instead of his arms as they rest underneath his head.

“I missed you too .. y'know.” Clouds words barely make their way to you, his voice quiet and music humming just loud enough.

“Hm?” You turn to face him, moving to sit on the ledge of the bed in front of where he lays. 

“The night I saw you,” He leans on his elbow to hold himself up, “you said that you missed me. and I didn’t say it back. I did. I missed you. I just didn’t know what to say to you then.”

You don’t say anything, you're not sure what to say anyways. 

He looks into your eyes for a few minutes before pulling you by your arm so you lay beside him, but he shifts positions so he holds himself above you with his hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.”

His lips meet yours once more. But unlike the bar this kiss is calculated, not clumsy and childish. He is drunk, and it’s obvious by the taste that remains on his lips even after he has licked them clean multiple times.

Your fingers find his hair, his knee finds its way between your legs and your chest begins to move quicker. He moves to latch his lips onto your neck, sucking spots that will definitely be purple and red tomorrow, while his hands find their place under your shirt on your hips.

And while you’d love for Cloud to continue his journey, the fact remains that he is drunker than a teenager on their 18th birthday, and you want this moment to be one enjoyed sober. So you pull his head up to meet his eyes, and very puffy lips. 

“Your drunk Cloud. I think we better save this for another night.” 

He pouts, face flushed, but he nods with a sigh. Getting comfy he finds a place to rest his head, on your chest, but his hands don’t move from your skin. If anything you feel his grip tighten, keeping you close as he practically lays on top of you. 

“I missed you, a lot. I thought I'd never see you again when you left.” Your fingers find his hair once more, rubbing at his scalp and playing with blond strands.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d see you either.” 

The room is quiet, except for the soft hum of music flowing from the stereo. His fingers tense and relax again in sync with his slow breaths, moving to trace the softness of your skin. But eventually his movements stop and he seems to still. 

“Cloud?”

There are still a million things you’d like to ask, like to say. And so many years of words you’d like to catch up on between him, months of love confessions that you had admitted to Tifa that you’d like to share with him. But the soft snores that begin to leave his mouth tell you he’s in no mood to talk right now.

“Goodnight soldier..”

#cloud strife x reader #cloud strife #cloud ff7 #fem reader #ff7 #drabble #oneshot #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy

[bunnyreaper]

Gaz taking care of his babies while his wife has a birthday spa day? 🥹🥹🥹🥹

this is... something? i tried okay <3

you'd heard horror stories from other wives about leaving your kids alone with your kids alone with just their dad, but you knew that when it came to kyle--you didn't have a single thing to worry about.

that man had the kids routines memorised, even when he was off on the other side of the world fighting the monsters that hide in the dark. he knew when to call to say goodnight, if he could, when not to call because it would be bath time, and what football team his sons under 7's team were playing every week. 

kyle garrick was a great father and a fantastic husband--having sent you off for a birthday spa retreat where you could truly have some time off from being a mother. you carried the family when he was away, so when he wasn't deployed he made every second count, and took on the weight of the family. 

he hadn't wanted to bother you with updates during your day and night away, so he and the kids had instead taken plenty of photos and videos to show you when you came back.

you sit now on your family's couch, snuggled up to kyle while your kids cuddle up on each side of you, and you all watch the video kyle had put together. 

the first shot is a video of you driving away, them saying they loved you and to have a good time, then the camera immediately cut to a video of them all in the kitchen, baking a cake for you'd return. both of your children throw flour at each other, while kyle films the whole thing. then it shifts to a picture of him back in the kitchen, the entire place spotless with him and the kids grinning. 

after the cake chaos, there are clips of them all gaming together for their allotted screen time. kyle had used the couch cushions to construct makeshift cars while the kids played mario kart. your son let his younger sister win at least once, and the image of the characters on the podium makes you smile. the camera was even left running to capture the kids not complaining even once when their dad tells them it's time to finish. 

and then came the clips of bedtime--your daughters first. her and kyle were currently working through a re-read of her set of bluey books. there's one book in the set she never lets you read, only her dada. you watch kyle sit next to your girl, reading the story with such enthusiasm and even doing his terribly amazing australian accent. 

next was your son's bedtime, and seeing your two boys together always warms your heart. kyle is always teaching your son to be the best little man he can be, even if it's not the traditional way of being. you watch as your son asks questions about how much his dada loves you, as he wonders aloud about his future spouse. 

the video comes to a close with a shot of kyle in your shared bed, clutching your pillow close to him as he cuddles up for the night. 

"aww, I love it. I'm so glad you all had such a good time while I was gone!" you smile from ear to ear, heart completely full at the video made by your family. 

"we did!" your son cheers, just a touch too loudly in your ear. "did you have a good time?" 

you nod fervently, your smile mirrored on your kids faces. you pull your son in for a smooch to the cheek, as your daughter cuddles close to her dadam "yes baby, i did, though i missed you all so much." 

which is the truth, you did miss your family while you were gone, but you also really appreciated some time just for yourself. you make a mental note to return the favour for kyle, or to arrange something for just the two of you.

"go grab your mum's cake from the fridge, yeah?" kyle says, sending the kids out of the living room and into the kitchen, giving the two of you time alone.

you turn to your husband, about to thank him when he pulls you in for a deep, sensual kiss. your eyes flutter shut, as kyle kisses you like he's missed you for so long, not just a night.

"i love you, kyle." you sigh into his lips.

"love you too." he replies, before smirking filthily. "got a video to show you later though, your eyes only." 

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick fanfic #kyle garrick #bunny writes

[ilyasorokinn]

can i request anything with dad!sways?

GRANOLA BARS

kids + post game media will always be my weakness

THE "SWINGING WITH THE SWAYMANS" MASTERLIST

tw: children/kids

jeremy was on a high. the bruins won, and although it wasn't a shutout game, the bruins had won by a pretty significant number, and it was all thanks to his good luck charms: you, eli, and winnie.

it was winnie's first game, so it was special game for him. during warmups, he saw you down on the ice, and couldn't contain his smile when he saw winnie's beanie.

it was the first thing jeremy had given to you when you found out you were pregnant with eli, but eli had long since grown out of the hat. it had been in storage so you decided to bring it out and surprise jeremy.

during intermission, he briefly checked his phone and saw the photos you sent him from the bruins social media account. the bruins photographer managed to catch a sweet moment of the four of you. you were sitting in a seat with eli was standing in between your legs and winnie standing on your legs. jeremy standing behind the glass with the biggest smile on his face.

the photo was caught right as winnie had noticed her dad on the other side of the glass. he took off his mask halfway so she knew it was him, but she was a smart girl, so she knew it was him.

eli and winnie both smiled as jeremy tossed pucks over the glass for them, which were caught by a kind man. winnie excitedly slapped her hands on the glass as jeremy smiled at her.

before having kids, he didn't understand what people talked about when they talked about "dad strength", but now, after having kids, he totally understood it. going into the 3rd period, after having seen those pictures, he was on fire. not one goal was let in the entire period.

after the game, all he wanted to do was go home and spend the rest of the night with you and the kids, but because he did so well, post-game media was on the list of things he had to do before he could leave.

“jeremy, going into the 3rd period, what was going through your mind because something changed between the second and third."

jeremy couldn't help but smile, "yeah, i got a text from my fiance. i don't know if you've seen them yet, but it was pictures from warmups. it's my daughter's first game, and we got some pictures taken."

he heard some commotion from the door of the locker room, and looked up just in time to see eli running in. jeremy smiled as eli pushed through the crowd of reporters and stood in front of his dad, waiting to be picked up.

he smiled, bending down and picking eli up. he fixed the hat on eli's head before turning back to the reporters, answering a couple more questions.

"...obviously, a shootout game would've been nice, but..." eli interrupted jeremy by whinging and pointing to the granola bar in his stall, "sorry." he smiled awkwardly, grabbing the granola bar and opening it for eli, "where was i?" he paused for a moment before regaining his train of thought, "... right, yeah..." he continued on with his answer before turning to the next reporter.

mid question, eli reached up and held out a piece of the granola bar, offering it to jeremy, who smiled and took the piece in his mouth. he nodded along as the reporter continued, eating the granola bar eli kept offering him.

he finished press and had eaten half a granola bar by the end of it. with eli's help, he got his stuff packed up and followed eli out to where you were waiting, winnie was asleep in the baby carrier attached to you.

"hi." you smiled brightly when you saw him, setting your phone aside, and giving him your attention, "i tried to stop him, but he's fast and he was on a mission."

jeremy laughed, "he is fast." jeremy looked down the hallway, watching eli running down the hall, talking to himself. he looked back over to you, raising a brow.

"he had a bit of candy." you shrugged, pursing your lips when he cocked his head at you, "we were on highway temper tantrum, exit full meltdown," you explained.

"hmm." jeremy hummed, setting his bags down and snatching eli up when he ran down the hall, "oof, i got you."eli giggled loudly, before letting out a tired yawn, dropping his head onto jeremy's shoulder, "let's go home." he slugn his bag over the other shoulder before grabbing your hand.

requests are open :)

#jeremy swayman imagine #jeremy swayman imagines #jeremy swayman x reader #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman blurbs #jeremy swayman #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins imagines #boston bruins fic #boston bruins blurbs #boston bruins #taylor writes #taylor's blurbs #taylor writes: hockey #swinging with the swaymans series #swinging with the swaymans #dad!jeremy

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 5. RIO

A/N: had a dream about my man the other night so I guess that was his way of telling me that he misses me? We love delulu!!! Anyways thought this would be fun to actually write something on the line of thriller/spooky this time around. This is me making up for not writing part two’s to my other fall inspired prompt on this man way back when. Hope y’all enjoy this 🧡🫶🏽!!!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A Begs B to come explore an old house that they believe is haunted. B is hesitant, especially after hearing the scary tales A knows so much about.

*GIF + PHOTO DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

WARNINGS: some France slander, language & hints of sexual content.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Being in France for the month of October initially wasn’t the plan.

Khadijah and Rio ventured out here for a couple days for Khadijah’s birthday and for Rio to tie up some loose ends for business. What was supposed to be a four day trip turned into a much longer adventure.

“I know y’all done heard they got bed bugs out there, why are your asses staying out there longer?” Khadijah’s mother blurted into the FaceTime call.

Rio chuckled to himself by the mini bar, fixing himself something brown before entering the main living room part of the suite.

“Mom,” Khadijah hissed as she flicked through the channels, “this was a unexpected extended birthday trip.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” The older woman said not entirely believing that, “Don’t think you can get cute on us and decide not to come back.”

“I’m already cute,” Khadijah modeled with extra shoulder as she sat on the tan couch while her mother brings the camera to show that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Well where do you think you get it from?”

“My father.”

“More like you got his smart mouth.” Khadijah’s mom comments, making her child hold up her finger to interject.

Now she loved her mom dearly but it was no secret that Khadijah was a daddy’s girl and her father’s favorite daughter despite what her two sisters thought. She was one of four children while her youngest sibling happened to be the only boy.

“Aw c’mon, don’t do Mr. Wells like that, especially if he’s not here to defend himself. Where is he anyway? It’s gotta be after 10:30 back home?” Rio came into frame, crouching behind Khadijah, who turned to peck his cheek before facing her phone once more.

The woman sighed, “where else? Working, working, working. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down, he’s not some twenty year old no more. Lord knows it.”

Mr. Wells had a heart attack last year and had to have a stint put in. Rio’s never seen Khadijah’s so stressed before in his life and although the hardworking man had a good job with good insurance working for the city, they slammed him with some bills that Rio paid off. Which Mr. Wells wouldn’t let slide and already was in the process of paying back.

His choice, not Rio’s.

“He’s close to retirement and he loves supporting his family which is respectable.” Rio starts before joking, “once that happens then the both of you can come with us to Paris next time.”

“Uh uh. I’m never going over there, never had the desire to which is why I want y’all asses to get out of there fast!” Mrs. Wells’ large glasses come into frame now as she holds the phone at not the best angle, “I’d love to see Dubai or St. Lucia with Kayode, your father, and I guess your big headed brother can come too, Deej.”

Khadijah laughs, “yeah and he can bring Eliza too.”

“if I catch him even thinking about it, I’ll click my heels three times and send her bony ass right to hell.”

Laughter bubbles in Khadijah’s throat as she sends a teasing smile to Rio who winked back at his wife, knowing that neither of Khadijah’s parents were fond of their youngest child’s significant other. He was nineteen and found his supposed first love so it was evident that the pair were clingy and so in love with each other. They went to the same high school together, weren’t in the same cliques but ended up at the same community college and decided to give each other a try.

In shorter terms.

“We’ll make it happen,” Rio sighs as he comes around to plop down on the couch next to Khadijah, tossing a hand around the back of the couch, “minus Eliza right?”

“Damn straight,” Mrs. Wells humphed, “she can date somebody else’s son and boss them around for all i care. I just hope it’s over before thanksgiving.”

“Now Mom! Let’s not spread that negative energy for your birthday month, do you need some lavender and Kirk Franklin to keep your blood pressure down?”

The woman with the now bonnet secured around her micro locs fanned her hand, “I already had my session with Mr. Franklin around 7pm so hush! You know that’s what I’m wishing for and hoping you don’t wait around and decide to come back then.”

Khadijah blinks at Rio, who meets her stare. He had no plans of staying here longer than another few days, things got delayed and he offered to send Khadijah back to Detroit if that’s what she wanted but she had some vacation time that she didn’t mind using and she didn’t want to leave Rio behind either.

He’s been busy lately and she just knows as soon as they get back to Detroit, he’ll probably disappear for a little awhile again. So sue the woman if she wanted to be a little selfish and spend more time with her man.

“We’re gonna bring you something much better,” Rio smirks after taking a sip of his liquor, “maybe even a new bundle of joy.”

“WHAT?!” Mrs. Wells yells, “don’t play with me right now. When was your last cycle? I’ve been saying your tatas been looking fuller, ooooh I’ll have to tell your grandmomma.”

“Hey, hey! I’m not pregnant—

“Yet. We’ve been practicing though.” Rio announces, biting down on his bottom lip while Khadijah gasps and shoved at his knee.

Mrs. Wells claps her hands in joy, “y’all keep doing that but don’t bring those bed bugs back with you.”

“We won’t and did our research. If it makes you feel any better, we’re leaving this hotel tonight to stay at this castle for the rest of our trip and then tomorrow we’re gonna go explore this historic house since Rio wanted to have a rest day.” Khadijah informs her mother while Rio slowly nods his head, not knowing of the exploring a house portion but they’d discuss it later.

Mrs. Wells yawns as she sits up in bed now, “sounds fancy but okay then, mom’s tired and ready to knock out. But continue to be safe, the both of you and I’ll see you soon?”

“You sure will, night momma Wells.” Rio gave a two finger salute while Khadijah shared, “I love you’s, talk soon.” Before hanging up the call.

Khadijah leans back against the couch with a sigh, “told you mom’s got serious seperation anxiety all thanks to Kaliyah moving to Toronto with her girlfriend and we’re only traveling!”

“Which is exactly why I tried to smooth over her worries with baby talk, it worked didn’t it?” Rio lifts a thick brow while Khadijah shrugs her shoulders.

Soon she rests her head on Rio’s chest, locking her arms around his waist, “it’ll happen when it’s meant to…and we need to make sure we’re all packed for our new temporary home.”

“Oh I know I am, it’s you you gotta worry about mamas.” Rio presses a kiss to Khadijah’s rosemary scented hair.

Khadijah scoffs, “sorry but I had to buy more for this trip…which I’m not complaining! BUT! Paris’ fashion is really for the petite girlies.”

“They’re forreal missing out on the inclusion and better get on that.” Rio hummed.

“Siobhán is.” Khadijah grins while Rio slowly dips his head at the mention of his old designer friend.

Before Khadijah could get into asking about how she’s been doing, Rio sips from his drink once more and changes the subject, “what’s this about exploring tomorrow?”

“We maybe moving into a castle mansion for a little awhile but there’s no way I’m staying cooped up any longer without seeing what Dordogne has to offer.” Khadijah tells her husband with the perfect pronunciation of the town—or rather department as France calls it.

Rio raises the hand the rests against his wife’s shoulder, “heard you, mamas. No arguing on my part but you know it’s beneficial to have reset days too.”

“Which YouTuber told you that?” Khadijah smirks up at the buzz haired man, figuring that he was probably logged onto her account instead of switching over to his own to watch whatever it is he gets into.

Rio snorts, “don’t try and play me, my aesthetician did.”

“Of course they did.” Khadijah nods believing that since Rio didn’t mess around when it came to his skincare, “and you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with rest days. You’ve been running around x2 compared to me so I get it. You get a nap in and I’ll get the bags ready since we have what? An hour before the service comes and gets us.”

Rio grips Khadijah’s hand as she gets up from the couch, “you sure all an hour is what you need?”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Khadijah laughs, matching Rio’s smile before leaving the man to get his nap on.

With the city life behind the married couple, they settled in Dordogne late last night into the 18th century home. Surprisingly Rio wakes up late the next day, like around eleven am late compared to his seven am timeline. However Khadijah doesn’t mind letting him sleep, snapping a picture of his rest with the camera she brought along for the trip. She watches the clock from time to time, knowing just when to order breakfast to be sent to their room.

Khadijah’s sitting on a olive couch pushed underneath the windows which are half pulled back, sipping on caffe viennese, stomach half full from a classic French breakfast as she stares out into the scenery acting like the main character in a Victorian film.

“Morning, mamas. You starting the day without me?” Rio’s rough morning voice greets the brown skinned woman, who glances over her shoulder at him.

A soft smile meets her full lips, “good morning but someone has to get this party started. But don’t worry, I’ll never not let you in on the thrill. Got you one of these,” she holds the mug up in the air, nodding with her chin on the nightstand next to the man, “and there’s breakfast waiting for you underneath the cloche.”

“Did I mention hearing you speak French is sexy?” Rio states as he slowly sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Khadijah smirks, “plenty when you were tipsy on the late night ride here.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio laughs before turning to reach and sip at the warm coffee, “this is delicious.”

Khadijah pops her tongue, “Yeah it is.”

“What we doin’ today? Hold up, what time is it?” Rio turns his eyes into slits, reaching for his phone to let out a low whistle, “damn, haven’t slept that long—

“Since you got shot?”

Rio let’s out a cough, “whoa, that was dark.”

“Sorry,” Khadijah says, “kinda just slipped out.”

“Something you wanna talk about, Dija?” Rio hums, staring at his wife from their temporary shared bed.

Khadijah shakes her head, “nothing I want to get into on this brand new day, no. So!”

She uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand in her floral print lace trim set, placing a smile on her lips as she plops down on the bed. Taking a quick sip of the coffee again, she places it on her side of the nightstand and reaches inside to pull out two slips of paper.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Rio suspiciously tries to peek at the papers but Khadijah slaps them right on her chest.

“You asked what we’re gonna do.”

“Didn’t you say exploring some house last night?” Rio frowns, trying to remember.

Khadijah’s little smile to herself seems wicked but as soon as it appeared it vanished while she wiggled a bit on the bed, “that’s tonight’s adventure after dinner. We have at least a few hours before then to do something else so…pick one, anyone.”

The two options were: Château des Milandes OR Canoeing on the Brantôme.

Rio doesn’t wipe the frown off his brows but holds out his thumb and pointer finger while Khadijah holds onto the deck of two pieces. The tatted man makes a show of taking his time debating, just to irritate Khadijah for a little until he smiles picking the paper to the left.

And the winner is…

“Great choice! Now get your butt up and let’s shower, they’ve been open since 9 this morning.”

Chateau des Milandes!

Rio hums as he studies the paper, sipping at his coffee then replies, “can I enjoy my breakfast along with the view first?”

Khadijah dramatically sighs as she flops beside Rio, resting on her elbow to stare back at the ajar windows, “oh fine but I promise you, the one outside is much better.”

“personally I like the one right next to me.”

Khadijah flicks her head back to meet Rio’s brown eyes and she can’t help but to let a smile split over her lips, then puckering them for Rio to peck and lick his own smiling lips afterwards, “you think you’re so smooth.”

“I mean give a guy some credit. How else do you think I got you?” Rio chuckled while Khadijah just nodded her head from side to side mockingly.

“Just eat your food Christopher.”

It was Rio’s turn to mimic his wife.

“Aight, Khadijah.” He said over his shoulder, sitting on his knees and reaching over for the second tray of food.

Chateau Des Milandes was a sight to see and was a wonderful experience. Ugh!!! here Khadijah was sounding like her very emotional Granny Mozella but she never took moments like these with Rio for granted. On the outside it may seem like Rio was only street smart since that’s what he preferred yet he didn’t mind listening in on historical facts from time to time and no he wasn’t really into podcasts—unless it was true crime content—but no one could ever say he wasn’t open to learning new material and translating it into his own life.

He was good at finding purpose in anything.

He also liked draping his arm across Khadijah’s shoulders as they took the tour around the home that used to be owned by the successful Josephine Baker. That was more interesting to Khadijah than the Lords that lived it way before Ms. Baker but nonetheless they took it all in together including the architecture.

No one could deny that France had a way with its design and art.

They explored the garden, which led to a picnic and wine for dinner with the French sunset as the perfect backdrop, then they ended their time at the Chateau with a bird experience, much to Rio’s surprise as Khadijah winked and placed a kiss on the tattoo on his neck, before clenching onto his arm for dear life once the various of birds—specifically the one that was very similar to the one on Rio’s skin started flying around.

Rio found amusement in that, even when they made it back to the rental car.

“If that big ass bird would have crapped on me, we would have been having a whole different type of bird for thanksgiving this year.” Khadijah continuously checked her outfit for any unfamiliar marks, the paranoia getting to her.

Rio couldn’t help but to throw his head back against the headrest laughing. “They’ve been trained, that wasn’t gonna happen. Plus it may just wanted a strand of your hair for warmth, huh? French winters can be brutal so I hear.”

The man went to curl a strand of his wife’s loose curl that framed her face who scoffed at him.

“You’re far from funny, Mr. Montoya.” Khadijah slapped his hand away to fix her pin curl updo in the drop down mirror.

Rio chuckled some more, watching her, “you’re right…I’m hilarious, Mrs. Montoya.”

“Im glad you had fun, baby. I can tell the bird part was your favorite,” Khadijah gave the man a playful side eye, “but now it’s time for my activity.”

Rio glanced at the watch on his wrist, “it’s going on seven…what else you trying to get into besides drinking more wine and eating cheese?”

“Whew! No more cheese for me.” Khadijah flicked the sun visor back up, “so…I have this other place to visit.”

Rio tapped on the GPS, “aight, what’s the address?”

“I don’t think the GPS will fully locate it…just to a certain point.”

Rio thought about this for a second and asked, “what? It’s some underground event or something?”

“Well sure, yeah. Kinda.” Khadijah shrugged her shoulders making Rio sigh and sit back with his hands clasped.

Khadijah was tapping away on her phone for a moment while Rio just studied her. When she realized the car wasn’t moving, Khadijah turned her attention back to Rio who was patiently waiting for her to come right on out with it.

“We’re not going anywhere until you give me the info I need. No shady shit allowed.”

Khadijah turned sideways to face Rio, “Okay so…there’s this house that we should see.”

“You said that already. But Why? To buy?”

“Hell no,” Khadijah was quick to say, further making Rio put his guard up as to what this whole adventure was even about, “I mean no…yeah no that’s exactly what I mean. It wouldn’t be for us to live…just to see.”

Rio pried, “what’s so special about it?”

“It has a colorful story.”

“Which is…?”

“The year was 1666–

“Nah,” Rio immediately said leaning forward to start the engine but Khadijah flew her hand out to stop Rio from switching the gears.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Rio leans on the console to completely face Khadijah, “by the way you’re dragging this out let’s me know you’re about to tell me some bullshit, that you know I’m not about to let fly.”

“Can’t a bitch add some extra flavor to the tale?” Khadijah scrunches up her face, “Sheesh.”

“Stop playin’ with me, Dija.”

“So hostile,” Khadijah flicked her hair off her shoulder, “alright you want the synopsis? Got it. So this house is special because during the year of 1666 a woman named Blanche lived there with her father, mother, two siblings, and new husband. Allegedly she was later accused of poisoning her family and beheaded her husband after they all suspected she was a witch because of some rumors started at the hospital she volunteered at. Her sickly father was the one to put her down after his wife and other children slowly started to die one by one. They say Blanche still haunts the home and asks when and or if you visit, to leave a ribbon and tea bag’s on their front step as a offering and for her to rid any vengeance in your life.”

Rio caressed his facial hair in thought, “Question for you, mamas? Did that eagle peck at your brain when i wasn’t around or…”

Khadijah sucks her teeth, “it’s spooky season, asshole!”

“I know that,” Rio lifts his shoulders carelessly, “but you’re trying to get into some serious shit and I can tell you one thing: I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Are you scared?” Khadijah leaned into the center console ready to comfort him, “I never said we had to go inside the house. Just see it and leave something for Blanche.”

Rio didn’t miss how Khadijah started to trail her hands over him but he didn’t fold, “Her business ain’t ours.”

It was Khadijah’s turn to laugh now, “you’re definitely scared!”

“No I’m not.” Rio scowled, “I’m just saying you have to be careful what you expose yourself to. I told moms we’d bring her back a baby, not a witch that may latch onto your body.”

Khadijah frowns, “why would you think Blanche would latch onto mine and not yours?”

“Whoever! And I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re trying to mess with some spirits.”

Khadijah wasn’t trying to “‘mess with spirits,” she always respected the dead but this sounded better than visiting the catacombs to be honest.

So she challenged, “Hey! It’s something to do.”

“I can find plenty of other things we can get into.” Rio placed his chin into the palm of his hand, “We’re not about to be here much longer anyway.”

Khadijah sighs as she grabs Rio’s hand to place in her lap, “I’ll let you try out our new toy at the same time while you’re inside…”

Rio’s eyes begin to darken as they meet Khadijah’s much lighter ones. This was a promising bargain and this Khadijah knew as Rio trailed his own hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and to grip her chin.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rio states as he presses their lips together and leads the way with his tongue dancing along hers.

It’s passionate and a little nasty just the way the married couple liked their kisses but brief enough that he leaves Khadijah panting on the passenger side. He smirks to himself, lifting up from the driver’s side to pull out his Glock 17 from his black jeans to rest on the dashboard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Rio tells Khadijah who shortly follows through, “and not a word of this to my abuelita.”

Khadijah makes a cross my heart motion as Rio puts the car in drive.

The drive to this supposed haunted home was a good half hour north from where they were staying and the decline of the countryside was clear. There seemed to be no livelihood as the skies got even darker. Rio could sense to the left of him that Khadijah seemed to be at unease the deeper they got into the area.

He checks in, “How we doing?”

“Hm? Oh, there it is. Stop.”

Rio turns his attention back to the lack of road up ahead and notices that there’s a tunnel with no lighting. He steps on the breaks, witnessing to the left of the tunnel the narrow road carried upwards to what exactly? That he didn’t know. There was no homes or animals in sight on this drive since they started getting further away from the chateau.

“What’s this?”

“That’s the tunnel that leads to Blanche’s house.” Khadijah is sitting on the edge of the passenger seat now.

Rio tightens his hold on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the scenery with the help of the automatic headlights. If they went through that tunnel, which was surely to be just as narrow as the roads out here in the countryside he wasn’t positive they would make it back. His intuition  was telling him since the beginning that this didn’t feel right and being physically here was enough to confirm that for Rio.

Turning his eyes into slits towards the right of the tunnel, Rio can see a decaying headstone with a bunch of colorful ribbons tossed around and possibly some rocks that were most likely teabags scattered below it.

“This is what you came for,” Rio says keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oui-Oui.” Khadijah says suddenly halfhearted and any other time Rio would have laughed but the expression on her face made him aware that the tension was also felt by her as well.

Rio steps on the gas, driving full speed towards the tunnel but stops just at edge, parallel to the headstone, making Khadijah grip the dashboard at the abruptness.

“Get going, sweetheart.” Rio tells Khadijah with a lift of his chin.

Khadijah swallows, prying her eyes away from the tunnel then to the headstone and back to her husband. “W-what? You’re not coming with me?”

“I never said I was going in there. I have sense.” Rio tapped at his temple.

Khadijah glares, “wow. So here’s to trying new things was just another one of your lies then huh?”

“Another? Don’t go there, I’m not doing that with you this evening. You brought this terrible idea to me and I brought you here so go head, show me you’re the one who isn’t scared.” Rio’s hardened stare was now on the fuming woman.

Khadijah didn’t know what the fuck Rio’s problem was and why he thought this energy was okay? Khadijah didn’t like Rio’s tone so she snatched her baguette bag from beside her feet and went to push on the door but remained right inside.

“Are you serious?!”

Rio made a U-Turn and began driving back in the direction they came, “are you forreal thinking I’m about to have our asses messing around with the actual dead? Let alone your indecisive ass? And we don’t even have the full context?”

“I mean…do you not have bodies? You don’t see me questioning you about them.” Khadijah muttered.

Rio snapped his eyes to his wife, “two completely different things and you know that.”

It really wasn’t but okay, if Rio hated her riding the fence then let’s see if he hated it now.

“Whatever.” Khadijah slouched against the seat, “You just wasted our time, like why entertain the fact that you were with it if you’re just gonna try to clown me?”

“I wasn’t letting you do that and you should have known that.” Rio clenched his jaw, “I would never willingly put you in harm’s way and that’s exactly what you were signing up for.”

Khadijah knows Rio wouldn’t and if she wanted to be petty she could but she just mumbles, “You just ruined spooky season in France like?”

“Better throw that ribbon and teabags out the window and get glad. Who knows what would have happened if we went down that dark ass tunnel with only the Glock against a whole spirit mind you, that we don’t even know if she’s still vengeful or not.”

“I mean you make valid arguments…and I don’t even know if the house is still standing. The last update online was from 2021 so I guess I can’t be too pressed about it.” Khadijah explains as she starts to search through her bag, “but you can’t say I was indecisive this time, yet you locked me in here like I’m a child.”

Rio deeply exhales, rubbing at his face in slight aggravation, “yeah we gotta get back to Detroit and quick. I think you need to go back to work and continue spreading peaceful energy at that non-profit instead whatever this is.”

“What?” Khadijah sucked her teeth, “Trying to be on theme?”

“We could easily rent a movie at the spot and call it a day.”

“I wanna be one with nature!”

“As soon as we get far away from Blanche’s murder site, I’ll take the locks off so you can touch some grass.”

“Ohhhh, I cannot stand you!” Khadijah scowled followed by some laughter before ghosting her fingers over the window button, “is this going to work for me or am I still being held hostage?”

Rio just hums to himself, glancing in the rear view spotting a blur of white in the distance along with something that wasn’t tumbleweed rolling right by their feet.

Khadijah doesn’t notice as she cracks the window to toss a pink ribbon and a teabag out on the dirt road.

And when she looks in the rearview, she doesn’t see anything unusual or creepy. So she rolls her window back up and presses her elbow into the arm of the door, resting her cheek along her fingers, watching the night scenery whip by her highlighter eyes.

Soon Rio’s hand reaches for the Glock to rest in the cup holders before sneaking his hand over to bring Khadijah’s hand up to his lips. He knew she was a little sour with him over this and probably a bunch of other built up issues but Khadijah always tried to make the best of it.

Rio was trying to get better at validating her feelings but this shit right here was not it and Khadijah knew that inside. Which is why he had a more safer route up his sleeve to spend the day with Khadijah tomorrow since celebrating Halloween was apparently too american for the French. So he did the best that he could choosing a theme park that would be “on theme” for Khadijah’s spooky cravings.

That would be his gift to her and routine of keeping her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t fully want to see it that way sometimes…

Ah, she’ll be aight.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Rio good girls #rio x black!reader #rio x reader #october prompts #queued #spooky prompts #good girls nbc #Rio x oc #manny montana

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

Fuck, Marry ,Kill. A game that the Justice League, Outlaws and some of the original Titans will never play again - Part 1

Masterlist of fics

Part 2

Summary: Almost the entire hero community know each other's identities. The only group that remains a mystery are the bats. Most know that they're based out of Gotham and they're a team. That's about it - Clark wants the team to play a game for a team bonding exercise, Hal choses FMK, and Batman hates everything.

Clark had been insisting that they needed to do some ‘team bonding’. A waste of time if you asked Bruce, but of course, no one asked him. The founding members of the team sat around the table. No one had a mask on except for Batman, who still hadn’t revealed his identity to anyone.

“So I was thinking, we could do a game or something. You know, one of those where we go around, answering questions or something like that,” Clark sat at the head of the table, smiling at everyone. The grin on Hal’s face could mean nothing good as he leaned against the table, “Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

"Excuse me?” Clark frowned, looking confused. Snorting, Oliver said, “What? Are we in middle school?” ”Come on, it’ll be fun.” Barry seems to agree with Hal, wanting to play the game. “I do not understand, what is the premise of this game?” J’onn asked. “So someone will say three names, and everyone will go around the room, saying which of the three people they’d fuck, who they’d marry, and who they’d kill.” “But what if I do not want to kill anyone?” ”Don’t worry J’onn, you don’t have to do anything with the people, it’s fake, just a fun game.”

To Bruce’s horror, everyone seemed to agree to play the game. Pushing against the table he stood up. He will not sit through this. “Batman, this is mandatory for the team,” Clark stopped him. Bruce reminded himself that they were allies. His children wanted him to make friends with the Justice League members. They seemed to think he had no friends. He grunted as he sat back down.

“So we do this with random people?” Diana questioned, seeming into the idea of the game. “Yeah, but I think we should do famous people,” Hal looked very pleased with himself. “Ok, first let’s start off easy. Chris Evans, Jennifer Lawrence and Idris Elba.” ”Oh fuck Idris Elba. Without a doubt.” Dinah said quickly, no hesitation in her voice. “Then marry Chris Evans and I guess I’d have to kill Jennifer Lawrence.” “Gonna have to agree with you on that one, pretty bird,” Oliver nodded his head, a light smile on his face. Clark seemed to really be thinking about it, “If I’d have to, I guess I’d have sex with Chris Evans, marry Idris Elba, and yeah, kill Jennifer Lawrence. So sorry to her.”

“I’m not familiar with those people, could I see a photo of them?” Barry quickly pulled out his phone, searching up each person and showing Diana the photos. “I would fuck this Idris Elba, marry Jennifer Lawrence and kill Chris Evans.” Barry spoke next, “Yeah, I’m going to go with Dinah’s one. Fuck Idris Elba, marry Chris Evans and kill Jennifer Lawrence.” Hal still had that stupid grin on his face, “Fuck Jennifer Lawrence, marry Idris Elba and kill Chris Evans. What about you spooky? Who’d you fuck?” ”I am not playing this juvenile game. I will stay for the team bonding but do not expect me to partake.” Bruce knew way too many celebrities to join in on this game. He was friends with so many of them. So was Oliver, how could he do it?

Barry had a thought that instantly brought a smile to his face, “Ok, billionaire edition. Lex Luthor, Pavel Durov and Bruce Wayne. For me, I’d definitely marry Bruce Wayne. He is so fine and it can’t hurt to be with someone that rich. Kill Lex Luthor without a doubt and fuck Pavel I guess.” Could Bruce call Jason to come and shoot him? Maybe Oliver would stab him if he asked nicely. Diana nodded in agreement, “Bruce Wayne is an attractive man. I would marry him too, fuck this Pavel Durov and kill Luthor.” Maybe Bruce could break one of the windows and jump out. The emptiness of space would be better than this conversation.

“I have done a few interviews with Bruce, he is a good man. His looks are quite impressive and he is one of the richest men on the planet. He uses his money for good, I’d definitely marry him. Um, I do not know much about Pavel Durov, and definitely kill Lex.” Clark seems to have put thought into his answer. Bruce would rather be fighting all of his rogues simultaneously than being a part of this conversation. J’onn spoke, “Yes, I have heard of Bruce Wayne. He is quite an honourable man. I too would marry him, and kill Lex Luthor.” When Oliver started speaking, Bruce rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Brucie is a friend, we’ve known each other since we were kids. I don’t think he’s marriage material though, he has too many kids. I’d fuck him. Kill Luthor, marry the other guy.”

“Sorry babe,” Dinah put her arm on Oliver’s arm as she spoke, “but I would definitely marry Bruce Wayne. There’s just something about him, did you see that recent beach photoshoot? He’s really in shape. Obviously I’d kill Lex.” He could pull out a batarang and stab himself. That seems like a good option. Hal shot up in his seat, “Oh Bruce Wayne, the love of my life. That man is so hot. Marry him because that way we could fuck anytime we’d want to. Fuck Pavel Durov and obviously kill Luthor.”

Bruce cannot do this. Secret identity be dammed, he could not sit through this anymore. He pushed his seat back again which unfortunately attracted everyones attention. Hal once again speaking to him, asked, “I know you said you’re not playing but as a Gothamite, who’s saved Bruce Wayne many times, any comment about how attractive he really is?” Bruce looked right at Hal, staying in his seat. He reached up and slowly removed his cowl. Oliver let out a soft “Oh my gosh”, everyone stared in shock. Hal screamed.

Fuck, Marry ,Kill. A game that the Justice League, Outlaws and some of the original Titans will never play again.

This is an old-ish fic so ignore the errors and bad grammar. I promise I've improved. Not that this i bad (I still enjoy rereading it) but I can do better now.

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

#bruce wayne #batman #superman #clark kent #diana prince #wonder woman #hal jordan #green lantern #barry allen #the flash #jonn jonzz #martian manhunter #dinah lance #black canary #oliver queen #green arrow #dc #justice league #justice league fic #justice league fanfic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #fuck marry kill #q's writing

[ieathumanorgans]

Calling them your baby daddy as a joke headcanons!

warnings: slightly suggestive on gojo’s part other than that pure sfw/reader is gn poc

n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

itadori, megumi, nobara, gojo + nanami’s reaction to the joke

Itadori Yuuji

• poor boy is so confused he’s like a lost puppy trying to figure out what baby daddy meant until you explained it to him and he was..still confused. “You’re not having any children are you?” would definitely be a question he’d ask he’s too precious for these types of jokes god forbid you just hugged him and gave him kisses 💔💔

—

Megumi Fushiguro

• oh trust me honey he knows what baby daddy means and would eye you so suspiciously until you tell him that it’s a joke “Oh, it’s a joke?” maybe he knows a little too much for his age (wtf toji)

—

Nobara Kugisaki

• your first mistake was ever calling her baby daddy obviously she knows you are joking but still would press you about it, “Is it mines? Are you sure?” she would definitely go out her way to have a photo shoot with you and be like they’re carrying a little me gojo would be ctfu 😭

—

Gojo Satoru

• this cocky motherfucker is gonna believe you when you come up to him rubbing your stomach etc. “Gojo, i’m carrying your baby..you’re my baby daddy..” oh. yeah you kinda fucked up “Are you coming up to me saying you’re pregnant because of how much I fucked you last night?” he would definitely lift his blindfold asking this question just to stare at you with his light blue orbs. you admit it was a joke to him and to which he smiled. now he’s taking you to your shared bedroom to bang you til the street lights come on. yeah he’s gonna be your baby daddy fr soon.

—

Nanami Kento

• first off he thinks that gojo put you to this damn thing. “Have you been hanging around gojo more..?” and maybe gojo did up to you. you would purposely bloat your stomach out to make it look like a baby bump. nanami isn’t for it he just puts his head in his hands and shakes his head. mans can’t catch no break but he loves you nonetheless. would totally want to you stop hanging around gojo though aka mr. bad influence. after you admit to him it was a joke you gave him unlimited smooches for the entire day

#jjk x you #jjk x poc!reader #itadori x y/n #megumi x y/n #nobara x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #gojo being a absolute playa #nobara playing along with you because she loves you #itadori is confused forgive him #MEGUMI JUST KNOWS TOO MUCH. #nanami is tired.

[libraryofloveletters]

Rudolph, The Red Nose Reindeer 

Son Heung-Min x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sonny is a hyper golden retriever boyfriend (no shocker there), first trips to the winter fair, meeting reindeers, sooo many pics, both sonny and the reindeers are excited to meet each other, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 559

Author's Note: first time writing for sonny! hopefully it's okay besties lol - idk why there aren't more fics for him! he's a sweetheart.

--

The winter fair was in town and Sonny decides that you two should go pay the reindeers a visit, because that’s what Santa would want. 

It wasn't unusual for your boyfriend to come running at you as if you were a player for the opposing team, Sonny making a B line for you and jumping right on top of you.

Over the years, you've learnt to brace yourself for him.

"Hi honey" you brush his hair out of his face, smiling at him as he gets comfortable with his head on your lap.

"Hi," he grinned, phone in his head. "Do you have plans?"

"For today?"

"Yeah," he nods, "I don't have training sooooo, I was thinking we could go out."

You shrugged, "had to go grocery shopping but I can do it tomorrow. What did you have in mind?"

His eyes light up. "The winter fair is in town!" You smile at his childlike excitement, "I know."

"Can we go? I want to go see the reindeers." He tells you and your brows furrow, it seems that Sonny sensed your confusion and continued speaking, giving you some clarification. "You know, reindeers, the things that pull Santa's sleigh."

You laughed, "I know what they are, baby. You wanna go see them?"

"Yeah, it's what Santa would want." He gets up, pulling you off the couch. "If you insist and if Santa insists, who am I to say no?" You smiled, letting him pull you to the front door.

It took you two a few minutes to gather yourselves, bundling up for London's cold weather before you two made the drive to the fair. It takes Sonny 2 seconds to find where the reindeers are located on the map that the man at the front gate was passing out. Your boyfriend grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd to the reindeers.

His long legs made it easier for him to navigate but you were practically running to keep up with him.

The woman running the booth hands him some carrots, telling what he could and couldn't do before Sonny starts feeding them. He's so excited to feed them, surely his face hurts from smiling.

You take a million photos of him, recording him feeding the reindeers their carrots as mom would record their child for Facebook. You smiled as one of the reindeers nuzzled into Sonny's hand, his face lighting up.

He looked over at you. "Look!" He whispers shouts, as if he thought if he spoke any louder, he'd scare the reindeer away.

After way too many carrots, the woman told Sonny that their reindeers wouldn't be able to fly if they ate anymore - an answer that was usually catered towards children. You got her hint, Sonny seemed a bit sad but nodded.

"I'll be back!" he tells the reindeers, rubbing one of them on the cheek gently. You smiled, holding his hand as you two walked off.

You took him for hot chocolate to warm and cheer him up. As you waited in line, you looked over at him. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah!" He grins, nodding. "I had never met reindeers before, I didn't even know they were real until I moved here. I thought it was only for tv."

"Well they seemed very excited to meet you too," you tell him, "maybe they're Spurs fans."

Sonny laughs, "they're in the right place then."

You smile, your arm linking with your boyfriend's, reaching up to give him a kiss.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #son heung min #son heung min x reader #son heung min x you #son heung min x y/n #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football blurb

[lethalchiralium]

part 2 of the 1940's fic with simon please 😭

I think we all need it...LOL

make sure you're taking care of yourself, though! we love you ❤

Jubilee Line | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i can’t lie to y’all. this has been done for like two months, but i have been tweaking it and am still somehow still unhappy with it? it’s fine. i’m fine. i’m being an ass. PART THREE SOON I PROMISE (i have been taking care of myself, thanks babe!)

warnings: SET IN 1940’s AU. Mentions of war, sort of accurate WW2 event dates. Mentions of being a Prisoner of War, mentions of torture.

summary: Lieutenant Simon Riley was coming home. He was finally coming home to his beautiful wife, but little did he know that at the end of his journey, there would only be heartbreak.

This is the second part to You Leave Me Wounded and Bleeding!

“Hermano.”

Simon’s eyes flickered up from the ring in between his fingers, tugging it slightly on his leather ID tags. Alejandro looked at the ring before meeting Simon’s eyes.

“Married?”

The Lieutenant nodded, looking back to the ring, seeing how the once polished gold was now rough and scratched. He thought to polish it when he arrived home, hoping the jeweler in town was still there.

“How is Manchester, then?” Alejandro continued the interrogation, talking a lot more than he ever had before. Before the train ride across England, before the Japanese POW camp they were captive in, before the Pacific Theater. “And your wife? Any niños?”

Simon scratched his jaw a little, still staring at the ring. “No.” He’s thought about it when he was away - maybe it wasn’t so bad to have children to come home to. His wife was expected to have children by her young age and she was nervous about it, he was too. “Not yet, at least.” He wanted a daughter that looked just like his wife, wide smile and beautiful eyes. She would be named Winnie, short for Winter - a name that meant a lot to him.

“That’s too bad, hermano. Children are gifts,” He reminisced as he sat back in his train seat. Simon was all too aware of the emptiness of the train cabin now, noticing again that there was barely a handful of people on this train due to the amount of body bags in the other cars. It was a funeral train, and Simon could feel the ghosts all around him. Alejandro spoke again, “I used to take care of my little sister when I was young. I couldn’t imagine living without my family.”

“Are you married?” Simon gruffly pestered, the man opposite of him shrugged.

“Not yet.”

Simon hummed in response, his head then turned towards the window - rain pelted the glass. He let the ring fall, it hit his uniform with a dull thud. He wished then for the photo of her he usually kept in his breast pocket above his heart, but the camp had burned his last uniform and in turn, his last photo of you.

His friend cleared his throat, Simon did not move his gaze. “How long since you’ve been home?”

“Two and a half years.” The man answered, now settling his hands on his thighs. “Was sent home for six months since I was one of the first deployed from England.”

“Hermano, you have a lifetime of being on your knees and begging for forgiveness.” Alejandro’s boot hit his, Simon looked back to him. His friend sat forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have a lot to make up for.”

Simon grunted in response, sitting back against his seat. “She’s waiting for me.”

Alejandro huffed with a smirk, shaking his head. “Estás tan seguro. Eres un tonto.” He wiped his face before continuing, “No wife should have to wait that long. It’s rough being alone for so long, and waiting for someone you don’t know is alive or dead?” He sighed again. “La habrá destrozado.”

“See, you’re speakin’ all this Spanish, and won’t tell me what you mean.” The Lieutenant glared at him.

“You’re a pendejo. A fool.” Alejandro pulled a Lucky Strike cigarette from his jacket, handing it to Simon.

He nodded and took it, still waiting for Alejandro to speak so he could demolish his idea. “Yeah? Why’s that?” He pulled out the brand new Zippo lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and igniting a flame. He held it out for Alejandro, who had his cigarette in his teeth and leaned forwards - lighting his. He sat back when he was content with his cigarette, pulling a drag while Simon lit his.

Alejandro blew the smoke from his mouth, crossed his ankles and spoke. “You should have let her go.” Simon’s eyes darkened. The Colonel glared at him before sitting forwards again, letting his cigarette settle between his fingers. “That is torture, being away from the one you love for so long. I’ve done it - it’s not something you can be fine with. It’s impossible to be okay if you’ll never know if they’re coming home in a uniform or a casket, hermano.”

“Been through it with ya fiancé?”

He leaned over to the wall of the cab, tapping his ashes into the ashtray. “Twice.”

Simon did the same, taking another drag before answering, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Alejandro blew a huff through his nose, eyes glaring at the Lieutenant. “You always have your soldiers go first, even though you have the priority.”

“Those muppets have kids, I don’t.” Ghost’s voice was flat, taking another drag and letting the smoke coil from his mouth.

“That’s the issue.” Alejandro kicked Ghost’s foot again. “You still have your wife.”

Dark eyes glared at the Colonel.

Alejandro continued. “You still had someone waiting for you.”

“Have, Vargas.” The man tapped the ashes of his cigarette in the ashtray before sitting straight up against his seat. “You’re wrong about her.” He took a long drag then, eyes staring out of the window, noticing how the trees and rainy fields turned into the outer city of Manchester. His heart jumped in his chest then, ready to jump out of the train and run home without any of his measly belongings.

He was ready to see you, his wife. Ready to settle his hands on her cheeks, kiss her like she had sculpted the sun with her bare hands. He was ready to hold her head to his chest, press her body into his because he had missed her. He wanted to hold her, tell her how he would make it up to her. Repaint the guest room, replace doors, get a dog, redo the siding. Anything she wanted, just so he could feel her skin underneath his fingertips.

The Colonel only hummed, taking a short drag before blowing the smoke through his nose. “You’re going to get hurt, hermano. I’d hate to see it.”

Simon finished speaking then, decided that if he were to continue, he’d pin Alejandro to his seat and press his knife into his friend’s throat. So, he took another long drag, watching as green trees went past with nothing but a whisper to the wind.

It was another hour before he had arrived at the Manchester Train Station, barely anyone stood in waiting for soldiers - he took in the familiar sight he hadn’t seen in years and scanned the crowd for his wife.

“Is she here?” Alejandro’s voice sounded from beside him.

Simon grunted. “Don’t see her. She’ll be at the house if she’s not here.”

“Okay.” Alejandro nodded as Simon walked forwards, his pace incredibly fast while the Colonel muttered, “Rezo por tu corazón, hermano.”

Simon didn’t take the time to admire how the streets were full of life, how the trees began to dim their lush colors - how as he got closer to his home, there was a ice cold thrum in his heart.

The lights were off, he noticed. He was halfway down his street, almost home - he could almost smell that perfume she loved so much. Alejandro was far behind, finally deciding to let Simon run home.

He stumbled up the porch, his hand engulfed the front door knob and he tried to twist it - it was locked. He growled in frustration before he looked up to the porch light shaped like a lantern and pulled up the little hood, digging his hand around until his fingers grasped the spare key. He didn’t even put the key back when he unlocked the door, shoving the door in and dropping his dufflebag to the floor.

He called your name, awaiting the sound of footsteps when his wife fluttered down the stairs. He waited in the foyer for a moment, nothing but silence canvased the house. His eyebrows furrowed, he walked forwards and into the kitchen - he almost walked into the living room to call his wife’s name again when he noticed a folded piece of paper, leaned against an old vase on the kitchen counter. He strode straight for it, only to take it in his hand.

-

Dear Simon,

I am writing to you this in case something happens. Something I cannot think about, something that can very well happen and I don’t wish to dwell upon it. These words are the only way I can express it if I am no longer able to voice them.

You’ve written me almost every week during this horrible time, about every thought and moment that caused you pain. It hurts me to know that I cannot ease your agony. It pains me that I cannot be by your side, even for a fleeting moment. You have such a kind soul, Simon Riley. I can only imagine how it will all of this affect you after the war.

Even long after your letters have stopped arriving, no British Army soldiers have appeared upon our doorstep yet - no telegrams have graced my fingers with your name upon them. That must mean something, right? That you are safe, breathing? For the past two and a half years, I’ve waited for your return; not to mention the three years before that. The danger is gone now, Simon, and you’re not here. They’ve been arriving by the train load for the past week, and none of the lists have your name. I musn’t worry, I know you will come back to me. You have a habit of keeping promises, my love - as well as secrets.

I’ve heard stories from wives, whispers among the streets about some soldiers coming home and no longer being themselves. They’re hollow, lifeless - I’ve seen a few myself. It is like the undead have invaded Manchester, they walk about with no emotion in their eye, no care for their family as they walk beside them. I’ve watched them from our bookstore, watching as their small children tug on their father’s hands and he vaguely responds with a lifeless smile, sending them away from himself. Their wives do not give away any note of worry, perfect smiles and small touches to their husbands as if to comfort them in a small way. It’s not hard to recognize the wife’s pain, it’s a pain I hope I will never know.

I’m scared, Simon. Terrified, really. What if you do not step off that train tomorrow? What will I do if I must return home in silence, no longer in your grasp? No longer sleep without the knowledge that you’ll be coming home? Well, I suppose I haven’t had that knowledge since February, but it still feels crushing to say. What will I do if you return to me and you are no longer yourself? I know war must change a man but I’m not sure how I will live if I never see your smile again.

What will I do if you do not return? Will I become like the hundreds of widowed wives, crying forever and waiting for their husband’s remains to return home? Will I be able to go to the plaza everyday, knowing that you’ve touched this place before? Will I be able to stay in our home that you’ve put sweat and blood into, just for us? I can’t think anymore of it.

I don’t think I could ever understand it, that I would ever want to. We’ve talked about it, but it still doesn’t make the ache in my soul any lighter. I cannot think of you anymore, it feels like my heart is playing a melancholy tune on a piano well beyond its years; playing a song I never knew it had memorized. And it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keys, dancing ever so slowly as if the crescendo in the sheet music keeps darting away. The climax of our story hasn’t even crossed the page yet; I keep playing this haunted tune and I don’t want to anymore. I want to rip my fingers from the keys and push myself away from the piano. But I only play this tune as I wait for you, only when you’re away from me. What will I do if this will be the only song I can play for the rest of my life?

My mother sent for me. This morning, actually. I was sitting in the study, going through the mail. My father is dying back home in America, and I must go. But I feel that I cannot leave here without knowing. I cannot leave our home without knowing if I get to kiss you or kiss the stone that will lay above your head.

I’ve wondered what it would be like for you if I leave for America this very moment. You place your key into the lock, twisting it and opening up the front door. The house would be dark, no warmth from the fireplace, nothing to signal that I would be home. Maybe you would think I abandoned you, maybe you would think I had perished. But, I know you. There will be no need to worry, Simon.

I’ve waited so long for you. So long for our life to grow, to spend more than a fleeting moment behind a bookshelf like we did when we were young. I’ve sat in every room of our home, praying and wishing for your safe return. I’ve hoped and wished so hard that I feel that the universe no longer hears me. Oh Simon, I’ve waited centuries in the collective almost six years you have been gone from my side. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.

I will love you forever. Even if you have left this precious Earth, even if your feet still tread upon it. But I can’t wait for a ghost when I have been waiting for my husband almost our entire marriage. My father is stable enough, they believe. He has two months to live. And because I love you, Simon, I will wait exactly one month after the last train arrives in Manchester with a list of soldiers.

And if you arrive when I have gone, I am sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to our home empty handed, even if you are there - because you always leave. You always leave and I have always needed you, Simon. Always. You have hurt me in unimaginable ways, my love, even if you always find your way back home to me. So, just this once - I will be the one leaving. I can’t come back. I won’t come back. I won’t come back to a house that is no longer ours. I will not come back to a house that is just mine.

I love you, Simon Riley. Don’t ever forget it.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

-

It only took him two minutes to read the letter.

It crumbled into a ball in Simon’s hand, the scarred palm of his right hand stung before he let it fall to the kitchen counter, abandoned.

It had taken him a month and a half to return from a prisoner camp in the Pacific. Alejandro and him were captured on their way back to base, tortured until the camp had finally gotten word that the war was over on the 25th of September. It was October 10th, past how long she would have stayed and waited with bated breath for him to return to her arms.

All he could think of was her. Every burn, slash, gunshot; every time they choked him, beat him, they could not erase the woman that was his wife. She was the only reason why he even made it through, why he was even alive. He had to make it home to her.

And now that he was home? She had gone. Flown from their nest, gone back home to her family. And all he could do was see red. He wanted to punch holes into the walls of his house, scream until his throat bled - but all he did was chase her ghost upstairs, almost busting his bedroom door off of the hinges when he burst into the room. The bed made, lights turned off - he ripped open the wardrobe, seeing that some of her favorite dresses had gone, but not all. Opened the dresser, seeing that it was empty of her belongings and all that was left were his undershirts. Half of them were gone too.

He turned back to the bed, he could almost see her laying there, a smile on her face as she would say, “Come to bed.”

He kneeled, tugging an old suitcase out from under the bed, standing and throwing it open upon the comforter. It was dusted, he didn’t even bother to cough when he rummaged through their papers. He pulled out his passport, flipping it open and seeing a different man upon the page. If this was another day Simon looked at his passport, he would’ve remembered a young man still in the throws of war, but he was still not what he is now. A villain, a monster.

A Ghost.

He slammed the passport closed when he made sure it was still in date. He shuffled through the papers again, seeing that hers was gone - but he began to notice papers that weren’t there before. He began to pull them out, one by one - seeing that they all had the same heading.

Dear Simon,

I don’t know how to

Dear Simon,

I don’t have the

Dear Simon,

I hate this. I can’t hate you. I can’t hate you I can’t hate you I can’t I can’t I can’t

Alejandro was right.

He had destroyed her.

It didn’t take him long to shove the passport in his jacket and bolt downstairs, skipping every other step. He grabbed his packed dufflebag and ripped open his front door, seeing Alejandro jump two feet in the air, dropping his cigarette.

“¡Qué carajo!” He sort of shouted as Ghost stomped past him, throwing his dufflebag on his back. Alejandro pulled closed his front door before running after the speeding Lieutenant. “What the fuck!”

“We have to go.” Alejandro grabbed his wrist but Ghost ripped his arm out of Alejandro’s grip, looking back at the man with a hollow expression. “She went home.”

“Hermano, lo siento.” He spoke immediately but Ghost didn’t stop walking when he turned back around. “¿Qué es lo que haces? Ghost, if she went home, that means-“

The Brit turned on his heel so fast that Alejandro couldn’t react when he was lifted into the air like a toothpick, the grip Ghost had on the man’s shirt sounded like it would rip at any second. He made direct eye contact and spat, “Her father is most likely dead. She can’t lose me too, so shut the fuck up, you muppet.”

Alejandro squawked, Ghost dropped him immediately and turned away, speed walking towards the train station. He called, “You know, I said I would escort you home, not to America!” The man didn’t respond, he just kept walking. Alejandro mumbled to himself before running to keep up, “Querido Señor, por favor, déjame matar a este hombre en un futuro próximo.”

———

taglist (thanks for being patient my loves): @oranoyaora @dest-nai @rafaelacallinybbay @belyyvolksblog @its-astrotea-love @redzscare @multitargaryen @efsa-lks @thehoneybunny @punziesworld @fanformany @ivycasket

———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

———

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #lethalchiralium #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

[maithefluffychicken]

Centerfold

Rated T, fluffy, meet-cute/ugly, photographer Steve meets rockstar Eddie. Ao3 link

Enjoy!

“When were you going to tell me?” Dustin confronts him, arms crossed tight over his puffed chest. He’s angry and glaring at Steve.

Steve has no idea why, though.

“To tell you, what?” Steve asks, eyes lazily coming back to the screen of his computer. He has been working on a photoshooting made earlier, a boring model for a top brand just changing outfits and shifting from pose to pose quickly and efficiently; basically he’s sorting the best pics to send them to the editor and retouching lights and shades and shit. 

“As if you didn’t know it already!” Dustin accuses him. Dustin is one of the youngest photographers in the agency, and he had the luck to be the one assigned to one of the fiercest journalists, Erica Sinclair, they both cover the best shit and they’re hyper competitive and clever. They’re made for each other, if you ask Steve. Meanwhile, Steve is lucky if he can work on one of his photo reports between photoshoot and photoshoot.

For some reason, though, Steve is fond of Dustin, maybe because they’re both only children and Steve kind of adopted Dustin, to the point of exchanging extremely complicated and elaborated secret handshakes that makes everyone roll their eyes in annoyance. Not like they mind it.

“Henderson, I have no idea what you are talking about, I need a coffee for your antics if you’re going to yell at me first thing in the morning,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to get up, but Dustin doesn’t let him leave the chair.

“You’ve been assigned to do a photoshoot for Eddie Munson!” Dustin yells, face red and eyes wide. “Don’t try to deny it because the Boss told me already, she didn’t care that I begged, she was adamant that you’d be the one doing the job!”

Fucking great.

“I’m not denying it, Henderson,” Steve sighs again, feeling exhausted. “Yeah, Nancy assigned it to me, and I have no idea why, who is this Eddie Munson?”

Steve knows who Eddie Munson is, he’s the lead guitarist and singer from this band, Corroded Coffin - Jesus Christ, what a name - and that they’re pretty popular right now, their new album released and, because of the recently acquired fame, basically every magazine wanted to interview the band and, above all, they wanted Eddie Munson.

What Steve wants to know is why everyone, including Dustin, seems to be so besotted with this Eddie Munson.

“Ok, ok, since you’re all asking so nicely…” Eddie smiles, the quality of the video is not great but Steve can see that the man has a pretty face and a thin frame, and he’s holding his guitar in a way that is almost indecent. And the first notes of the song start playing, the crows cheering and whooping. Steve barely recognises it, a cover from an eighties’ rock band or whatever, he thinks - based on the title of the video.

“Who is… You’re asking me who Eddie Munson is?” Dustin gapes, incredibly offended. “You have no right to be the one working with him, Harrington! It’s not fair!”

While Dustin is angrily muttering about how unfair life is and that Steve is an uncultured swine, he pushes Steve’s chair to the side and takes control of his computer, ignoring Steve’s weak protests. Dustin opens a tab and writes “Eddie Munson Master of Puppets cover live Indiana”. Clicking the first link, the video starts playing on and it shows Corroded Coffin on a stage, the stadium full of people, and Eddie Munson is at the front, black shirt open, showing a hairless chest, and silver chains catching the light of the spotlights. Dark curls clinging to his face with sweat and he smiles, smirks at his audience, who is yelling at him, chanting “Master of Puppets” again and again like just one voice, hands raised and clapping.

“Corroded Coffin’s leader, Eddie Munson, was playing his guitar in this hole-on-the-wall somewhere, you don’t care where anyway, and he started playing Master of Puppets and then James Hetfield himself stood up and joined him singing! The man was there and Eddie was awestruck, and the fucking Metallica helped him to start, dude, it’s the most amazing story ever…” Dustin is talking fast and without taking a breath, as he always does when he’s hyped about something. “And they let him play their song every fucking time, like, imagine to know your hero like that…”

Steve hums. And frowns.

“Hey, you told me I was your hero, kind of a role model for you, that you started studying photography because of me…” Steve pouts, and Dustin’s cheek redden a bit.

“Well, yeah, but, it’s not the same, like, they’re actual rock stars, Steve…” Dustin mumbles, and then he starts writing again and the video stops to show another one, recorded with the camera of a phone and the shittiest quality ever. Steve tries to not overthink about what Dustin just said.

Eddie Munson, a year or two younger, with the same long brown hair in disarray, and wearing a denim vest over a leather jacket, overdressed in comparison with the other video. His on-stage persona is still magnetic, the small crowd already making the chorus, it’s the same song, Master of Puppets. Steve keeps watching and, in the video, people start gasping and a loud Oh My God! can be heard when a man older than Eddie, with short blond hair and broad shoulders stands up and reaches the stage and starts singing with Eddie. Eddie seems a bit stunned for a second when he realizes who the man is, and then he nods, smiles and stops singing so the man - James Whatever, Steve can remember the name Dustin just had told him a moment ago - can take the mic and Eddie keeps playing the guitar, a wide grin on his face.

They both seem like having fun and the older man pats Eddie on his shoulder and tells him something, Eddie nods enthusiastically and, grinning wide, he starts playing another song.

“I hope you take this seriously, Harrington,” Dustin admonishes him. “Everyone wants to work with him and to take the best photos of him, and they always say how amazing he is, so, can you, please? Take it seriously?”

“Nancy, our editor,” Steve reminds Dustin, “already told me that, and I always do a good job, Henderson, no matter who is in front of the camera.”

“But this is important, Steve,” Dustin urges him one more time. “This work could change your whole life, dude!”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs, watching Dustin walk towards his own computer to actually do his job, and Steve takes the opportunity to stretch his legs and pours himself a mug of coffee. Once again in front of his screen, Steve lips his lower lip.

He doesn’t like to work with celebs, not all of them play nice and not all of them listen to Steve, usually they complain about their schedule or are simply… plain and boring. That’s why Steve prefers to do his photo report about interesting things or places, there are a lot of stories out there waiting to be told.

-

“What do you mean there’s no brand behind him?” Steve asks, deflating in the chair. At the other side of the table, Nancy Wheeler, the editor, is organizing some papers. 

Nancy shrugs, and looks at Steve with a brow arched.

“His manager says that she’ll give us the different outfits, but that they’re not interested in any specific brand or name, Eddie has a penchant for the eighties, glam-rock, old rock stars vibe, and there’s no brand that can provide that nowadays,” she explains. 

“Well, if his manager is going to give us the clothes, I don’t care, as if he wants to show up in pajamas, honestly,” Steve says bitterly.

“If you don’t care then leave me work, Steve,” Nancy smirks and Steve grunts, standing on his feet again and ready to leave Nancy’s office.

“Why do you hate him so much?” She asks before Steve can leave. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t hate him…” Steve says, and it’s true. “I just, ugh, all celebs are just the same, proud and so self-satisfied, they’re usually mean and petty.”

“That’s a lot of prejudice and hate in those words of you, Steve,” Nancy huffs. “He seems nice, his manager is very sweet, or that’s what Robin says at least, and God knows she’s even pickier than you with people.”

“That’s why we both get along so well,” Steve smiles. “Why me?”

“Hm?”

“Henderson wants the job, he’s a fan, why not him for this session? He’d be so happy, Nance, and he’s even better than me at this point.”

Nancy studies him for a moment, considering her options.

“I would give him this assignment, but I can’t,” she sighs. “Eddie Munson wants you, he asked for you specifically, Steve. And we already signed the contract.”

“What? Why?” Steve asks, confused and feeling hot all over, angry at the celebs and their fucking idea that the world spins around them.

“I have no idea, Steve,” Nancy sighs now, too. “But Eddie Munson is the big thing happening at the moment, and he wants us, he wants you, this can change…”

“Change my life, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Steve closes the door behind him with more force than needed.

-

Eddie Munson, just like the rest of the celebs Steve has worked with, is late. Of course he is. A big rock star like him surely has better things to do than appear at the hour he has been told so Steve can do his fucking job.

He has everything ready to start, the camera settled, the fucking lights, the screen and, ok, maybe he wouldn’t be this upset if he wouldn’t made his job so fucking thoroughly even if he knew it was going to lead him to another disappointment. Steve is good at his job, he takes it seriously no matter what Nancy and Dustin say, and that’s why he asked Robin to call Eddie Munson’s manager and to get him some information. And then, he did some research and called some friends.

In just a week, Steve found several leather jackets, tight enough that no matter how thin Eddie is, he couldn’t wear a shirt underneath, just as his metal heroes did back in their days. Just as tight jeans ripped at the knees, even a few ones with animal print: zebra stripes over red, leopard dots over blue. Denim jackets with spikes at the shoulders. Oversized shirts with ruffles, very pirate-y. And all kinds of jewelry and bijou and chokers and chunk rings, bandanas, chains, everything a eighties-lover metalhead could want and more.

And guitars and their amps - just in case. Steve owes several favors now for a fucking photoshoot just to offer this guy different guitars to pose with. He hopes the man arrives sooner or later, he has to return all the clothes and guitars tomorrow first hour, so for the first time that week, Steve wants Eddie Munson here and now. A part of him, the part that he doesn’t want to listen to and that has been devouring every video of Eddie Munson available on Internet, wants desperately that Eddie likes the set Steve has made for him, and that’s the other reason why he hopes the man will appear any moment now.

It’s easier if he says to himself that he just wants to do that perfect photoshoot, far too easier than to admit that the guy looks hot on every fucking interview and has the habit of winking at the camera. It’s easier if he says to everyone that he’s just a greedy photographer who wants a raise, a chance to prove himself, or whatever other lie he can think of. 

Being late is not very hot, in Steve’s opinion.

There’s a rustle behind the door of the studio and then two figures storm in, a cute blonde young woman with her hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a black blazer and jeans, and right by her side, Eddie Munson himself.

“Steve Harrington?” The woman asks, a bright smile in her pink lips, and she offers her hand for Steve to take. “I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s manager, I’m sorry we’re late, we got stuck in traffic, I tried to call you to the number Miss Buckley gave me last time, but it seems like it’s not working.”

Steve takes the small hand in his and, fuck, he had silenced his phone earlier because Dustin was texting him non-stop about Eddie Munson and Steve forgot to check in just in case. Well, I’m an idiot for that one, Steve admits while shaking Chrissy’s hand and smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Cunningham, and don’t worry, traffic it’s awful in this city” he says, trying not to look like an idiot, and his eyes find Eddie Munson behind her, worrying his lower lip shyly, eyeing him up and down. “Mr Munson.”

At being called, Eddie takes a step forward and offers his hand to Steve, smiling nervously. His hand is warm, if a bit sweaty, smaller than Steve’s but with long fingers and calloused palms, and Steve realizes he’s thinking too much about said hand, releasing it quickly, shoving all his current thoughts down, crumpling them like a ball of aluminum foil and tossing it at the back of his mind for later examination, or not. Better not.

“Mr Munson is my uncle, please, call me Eddie,” he says, nervously and shivering. “And damn, the pleasure is mine, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Steve blinks several times before his brain registers Eddie’s words, as if their roles were reversed and Steve was the rockstar and Eddie Munson was a fan. Steve can’t help but notice the soft pink that paints Eddie’s cheeks.

“Ehm, same,” he says confused, he was the one believing that Eddie wouldn’t appear after all.

“No man, and I’m so sorry to be late, I hate driving in the city,” Eddie laughs, rubbing his neck and drawing a complex expression on his face. “I hope we can still do the photoshoot today? I’m free and all for you, I mean, to make out with you… To do you! To do the photoshoot! Damn, Munson,” Eddie groans, embarrassed and laughing awkwardly. Steve is having a crisis, or a stroke, or the weirdest dream of his life; he laughs too, his mind racing with very inappropriate images but honestly, he can just blame the stress and the anxiety for doing this job. Eddie recovers, though. “I’m sure you have better things to do, more appointments or something, and if you want to reschedule or something… Chrissy, help, please?”

Eddie Munson rambles when he’s nervous, his cheeks are a bit flushed, and he’s making Steve second guessing everything he thinks he knows about Eddie. And it’s making his knees feel like jelly.

“What Eddie is trying to say is that he asked for you to be the photographer for this session, and if that our delay is an issue, we’ll do whatever it’s on our hands to do it any other day, and of course we’ll cover the inconveniences for today,” Chrissy smiles softly, looking around the studio. “You have the whole set ready, and I know all the hard work you put in here. And if you still have time today, we’ll love to keep the plan.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry, we have time,” no, they don’t. “I don’t have any more appointments today.” It’s not a lie, but he does have work to do that needs to be finished. And yet, now that Eddie is here, Steve doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not that late. Steve is getting better at lying to himself, then. 

Also, what Eddie has to do is just stand there and look pretty, the bitter part of him that is still annoyed snaps to himself, only to be answered with the other part of himself with: damn, he’s already very pretty.

Steve shakes his head and shoves down both thoughts, annoyance and awe can wait until the session is over. Or like, forever. They’re just two more foil balls bouncing at the back of his mind with the previous one.

“We can still do the session today, sure,” Steve reassures them, smiling and nodding.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Eddie says, tugging at a stray curl and putting it in front of his face, hiding from Steve. He has no right to be this sweet, where’s the annoying, overconfident rockstar Steve was expecting? Steve feels his body melting because of Eddie, and that’s not good.

“You’re not a bother, just… We can start when you want.”

 Eddie grins, dimples showing and eyes widening, Steve feels the sudden need to clear his throat and drink some water.

"It’s settled then, I need to make some calls, be good, Eddie, ok?" Chrissy says, looking at her tablet and smiling smugly. "Mr Harrington, thank you for this, and if he misbehaves I'll be out there, just scream for help." She adds with a wink before leaving and closing the door behind her, and Eddie makes a sound that it’s too much of a squeak. 

"Ok that was... unnecessary," Eddie laughs awkwardly again, and yet he looks comfortable on his own skin while Steve is fighting to maintain his professional composure. "She's just teasing me because, uhm..."

"What, a rock tar like you that doesn't like to be in front of a camera?" Steve asks, a bit awestruck if he's honest to himself, and flirting without noticing. Or, noticing it just a bit.

"I prefer to be on stage, yeah, but, ehm... " Eddie huffs. "I've been waiting for this for a long time, and I want to thank you for having me here today."

"How's that?" Steve asks, smiling, unable to imagine Eddie Munson all shy and flustered, and yet here they are.

"Oh, because I wanted you to make out with me... To have a session with me! With the camera!" Eddie rambles, his cheeks incredibly red and Steve is sure his own are burning now, he can’t even chuckle at this, not when he’s the one imagining it now. Great. "Oh fuck, I'm already making a mess... Ok, fuck it, ok, I've been following your work and I’m kinda obsessed with your style."

Steve can't help but giggle this time, shock running down his body, this is all so absurd, a proper rockstar that stands in front of thousands of people stuttering and praising his work as a photographer. Also, said rockstar admitting to being a fan of his own work. If Steve had a nickel for every time that has occurred to him, he’ll have a one single shining nickel, though.

"You kidding?" Eddie asks, big Bambi eyes widening. "That story about Indiana's Queer secret nightlife? Or the one you did about the abandoned Hawkins lab? You're insanely talented, man, and when I heard you were working as a photographer for this magazine, I begged Chrissy to get me a session with you."

"You like my work?" He asks, incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief.

This can't be real, there's no way a man like Eddie is praising a dork like him.

"Wow, Munson, damn," Steve laughs now, the praise making him feel like he’s floating, and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his cheeks burning like never before. "I don't even know what to say, thank you, I..."

Fuck, Steve can't lie, he had a lot of prejudices about Eddie, and he doesn't like metal music... Ok, great now he's feeling like a jerk.

"Just saying the truth, dude, and I hope you don't mind me fangirling about you," Eddie smiles, dimples showing, and Steve's breath catches in his throat. This man is a dream, sweet, and incredibly handsome, wearing the simplest clothes: just a white short sleeved shirt and jeans, his long hair in a messy bun. And fucking praising him.

Steve forgets about all his troubles to get the different outfits for Eddie, now he wants to photograph him just like this, all flustered and unhinged in the most beautiful, honest way. In horror, Steve realizes that he’s developing a crush on the man in front of him, just after what, four minutes in his presence? And ok, that’s a new record for him.

This is bad, this is really bad, this is too embarrassing, and once again and for completely different reasons, Steve wishes that Nancy had given Dustin this job.

"I... I want to say that I love your work too but, ehm..." Steve rambles and Eddie's grin widens. "I don't want to look like an idiot, because you're being amazing and nice with me and..."

"Hey, I get it, metal is not for everyone, and I'm just happy that you accepted to work with me, no harm done," Eddie's smile falters a bit but it's still here, chocolate eyes pining Steve in his place.

Steve’s resolve resurges, he decides that he was right putting all that effort in this session after all, and he’ll make it up for Eddie with the greatest photoshoot ever.

"Ok, so," Steve claps his hands. "Before we start, I have a selection for you, clothes and accessories and some guitars, I guessed based on your, ehm, videos and all that, if you want to follow me..."

Steve leads Eddie and shows him the place, and delights in Eddie's gasps and squeaks with almost everything Steve picked for him.

"Ooooh fuck, this can't be real! This is a Carvin JB24 Jason Becker Tribute? Fuck me, Harrington, is this for me?" Eddie yelps, his hands wrapping around the slim, long neck of the guitar. "I always wanted the blue one he always used, you know? But well, I found my Sweetheart, and that was love at first sight," Eddie smiles fondly. "Do you believe in love at first sight, Harrington?"

Fuck, I do believe now, Steve thinks almost hysterically when Eddie winks at him. That leads them into a conversation about Steve's cameras and his own collection, and it's easy to talk with Eddie, he understands Steve and his passion and Steve can understand him now. They both tell stories to the world, Eddie uses his music, Steve his sight.

It’s time for Eddie to choose some outfits for the session and once again, praises Steve for his good eye, for taking him seriously even if he’s a silly man with a guitar, and Steve frowns. He craves Eddie’s praise, sure, but he doesn’t like the way the man talks about himself. 

"For a man who claims he doesn't like metal you got me a lot of great stuff, Harrington... Oh shit, this jacket is just like Yngvie Malmsteen’s, can I...?"

"Eddie, we have time," Steve smiles, ignoring how ironic it is that he didn't want this job and now he just wants to spend the whole time with Eddie. "You can try all the outfits."

What a fucking worst-best idea.

Eddie is stunning in every one of the outfits, and he's kind of goofy, making a lot of different poses that makes Steve guffaws behind his camera. It’s fun, and easy, to have Eddie posing for him and following Steve’s instructions and tips. They try different outfits and guitars, and Steve doesn’t want the session to finish.

Steve is happy he just settled his video recorder too, he does that always, the celebs like to have the behind the scenes video, but this? Eddie making him laugh and enjoying the session so freely? Steve is so fucking grateful, he's going to buy Nancy a bouquet of roses or something.

Every five minutes or so, Eddie remembers some iconic photographs of his metal heroes, including Jason Becker, Yngvie Malmsteen and James Hetfield among others Steve is not going to remember their names, sadly, and shows them to Steve asking if they can recreate them.

Steve is happy to indulge Eddie.

"I can make your pics look like they're from the eighties, y'know?" Steve smirks, and Eddie's eyes get even bigger, Steve is not going to survive the weight of that gaze on him.

“Really? Can we… Can you do that?” Eddie asks, almost gaping.

"Yeah, pretty easy, just take the .RAW file and then convert it to .TIFF and just add some gaussian blur..." Steve knows he's rambling but Eddie is smiling openly at him, looking at him like he's doing something amazing for him, even if Eddie has no idea what he's talking about.

"You're so fucking precious, Harrington," Eddie whispers, still with that tight leather jacket wrapped around his torso, the chains hanging from his neck, and he's to close to Steve, so fucking close…

"I..." Steve wants to say that he's only doing his job, but it's not true, not anymore, Steve doesn't bother to try and lie to himself at this point, when he can just lean in and kiss Eddie Munson. "You're so happy with all this, that I want to..." To it be perfect for you.

Steve wants to do something that is not at all professional of him, that it could cost him his job, his whole career, and even Eddie's, if he's taking this all wrong, if Eddie's not looking at his lips the way Steve is almost sure he's doing it.

But Jesus Christ, Steve wants to kiss him, so fucking badly. Maybe the whole shit about rock stars being a chicks magnet is true - Steve just called himself a chick and doesn’t even care, for fuck's sake…

They stand like this for a moment, leaning into each other, something powerful tugging at them, pulling them closer.

"Edward Munson, stop annoying this poor man! It’s been three hours already!" The studio’s door opens then, they both jump and take a step back, Chrissy stepping inside and looking at them with a bright, startled look. "Oops! Oh, f- I'm sorry! I'll wait outside, but, Munson..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm… We’re almost done, I'm sorry Chris," Eddie smiles sheepishly.

Chrissy leaves them again, and Steve is losing his mind, his heart hammering in his chest, breathing heavily and needy like when he was a teenager.

"Guess I should go, then," Eddie says with a sigh, and leaves Steve to hide behind the screen to change into his normal outfit again, and Steve’s heart breaks a little. He hasn’t felt like this in years, Eddie has gotten under his skin faster than anyone else before, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with this feeling.

So Steve starts watching the pics on his camera screen, smiling at himself at the antics of this Eddie Munson. Hot and humble, a goof, always winking at the camera- no, at Steve, and some of those winks show in the photographs.

"Hey I look good in that one," Eddie whispers in Steve's ear, standing behind him and propped up on his feet to look over Steve’s shoulder at the camera. Steve tilts his head and shifts so that Eddie can look better at the photo. Eddie's hair is free from his bun, all bouncing messy curls framing his handsome face, wearing an open maroon button up shirt, he's holding his Sweetheart and kissing the neck of his guitar, eyes closed. The photo is extremely hot and tender, and is one of Steve's favorites too.

"You look good in every fucking photo, Eddie," Steve whispers too, giving up, showing up his cards.

He turns his head to look at Eddie, short sleeved white shirt again, but open, just like in the photo, his chain hanging from his neck and hairless chest on display, but good Jesus, his happy trail is of light brown, soft looking hair.

It’s the first time Steve can see all of his tattoos, too. The bats and the puppet master, the wyvern, in his arms. A zombie head and a black widow on his chest. Steve wonders if he has more tattoos hidden under his clothes.

Steve’s fingers itch with the need and want to touch the man in front of him.

"May I... like this? In your casual outfit?" Steve asks, shyly. He's being greedy, but Eddie grins at him wickedly.

"Only if I can have your personal number, it's only fair."

Steve smiles brightly, his heart hammering in his chest, nodding too fast, imagining Eddie texting him, calling him… Eddie poses a few more times for Steve, and Eddie saves Steve's number in his phone.

"Oh, Harrington, just one more thing..." Eddie says, Steve by his side, before opening the door for him. Steve looks at him, basking in his presence for a few more seconds, and hums, urging Eddie to keep talking.

Eddie leans in and closes the distance between them, kissing him softly, chaste, lips meeting lips, and Steve's hands fly to Eddie's waist, fingers digging in his pale skin and making Eddie’s breath hitch.

"I'm free tonight, if you want to..."

"I'm out at seven," Steve rushes to answer and Eddie smiles against his lips.

"I'll be here to pick you up, and we can have dinner together,” Eddie offers shyly, as if he’s still doubting that Steve wants to have a date with him. Steve reassures him, deepening their kiss, tongues sliding together easily and sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

When they part, Eddie’s cheeks are delightfully red and he seems just as affected as Steve feels, already counting the hours until they meet again later.

WIth a last shy peck, Eddie opens the door and leaves, turning just one more time to wink at him, and Steve grins.

Dustin was right after all, this session surely has changed his life forever.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington