#this is 6k words I’m not kidding

[mountttmase]

Not Your Fault

Note - i hope you’re all excited to meet the final bubba 🩷 a few guesses for the name were right but no one guessed the exact spelling 😂 I hope you love them as much as I do though and hopefully I’ll be able to write about them a bit more as we learn about their personality 😌 hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst

Putting the kids to bed with Mason was never an easy task. Mason putting the kids to bed on his own was a recipe for disaster but right now there wasn't much the pair of you could do.

You could hear Mason trying to wrangle your two babies as you sat with your third in the nursery. Ollie trying his hardest to help Mason tame Tilly as she ran riot and you knew Mason was about to explode. You wondered if you should get up to help but Ryley was feeding peacefully in your arms and you didn’t want to disturb him.

‘Welcome to the mad house baby’ you whispered, stroking your finger along his perfect nose all the way down to the end before awkwardly reaching down to kiss his head. ‘You’ll get used to Tills, she’s just excited about you being here’

And she really was.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d get pregnant so quickly after agreeing to try again and after your first two pregnancies you thought you knew your body well enough now to know when something had changed. Clearly that wasn’t the case though and it was actually Mason who figured it out first that were pregnant with a little help from Nala.

The kids were at school and Mason came home to find you cuddled up with Nala on the sofa. Her head and paws on your tummy as you scratched her head but as soon as he tried to cuddle you, Nala wasn’t having it. Growling at him when he tried to put his arms around you and pushing him away with her nose.

‘What’s crawled up her arse and died’ Mason laughed. Trying to snake his hands around your middle but Nala would fight him off every time until he gave up and grabbed your boob instead.

‘Mason? Do you mind’

‘Take it up with her, she’s hogging you’ he huffed but you just let it slide. You knew Mason needed to be holding something and if it was your boob then you’d just have to get on with it as he wouldn’t move off. You didn’t think anything of it though, you just knew Nala was protective and after you’d been cuddling for a while she was feeling territorial.

It was two days later that Mason caught you crying in the utility room. Half buried under all of the kids washing and the look of concern on his face just made you cry even harder. You’d been trying to get ontop of the cleaning all day and it the point you just felt overwhelmed.

‘Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?’ He asked as he helped you up but you didn’t really have an answer for him. Trying to quieten your sobs but you could feel your bottom lip still wobbling as he looked at you softly.

‘Sorry Mase, I don’t even know why I’m crying’ you laughed as he wiped your eyes for you. ‘I’m just a bit emotional at the moment’ you told him and by the small sigh you knew he had something he wanted to say so you raised your eyebrow at him in hopes he’d speak.

‘Baby, you don’t think you might be…’

‘Drowning in washing?’ You laughed but the soft look on his face made you be quiet. He looked genuinely concerned but there was also something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place.

‘No you wally… pregnant’

Pregnant? You didn’t think so at all. Apart from feeling more emotional than usual you didn’t have any other symptoms that you could think of and you wondered if Mason was just getting ahead of himself.

‘No I don’t think so Mase, I’d know if I was’ you told him but you watched his face soften as he cupped your jaw.

‘Well I know you too, and I think you are’ he teased. ‘You’re all emotional, you’re eating everything in sight and Nala suddenly won’t let me go near you’ he listed off and you blushed at the fact he’d clearly caught you snacking more than usual. ‘Maybe we should check? Just to rule it out’

‘I mean we can but it’ll just be a waste’ you laughed ‘We only started trying a month ago, Mase. I doubt it would have happened that quickly’

‘Don’t doubt my powers of fertility’ he laughed and even though you wanted to smile you were trying your hardest to keep a straight face.

‘You’re insane’ you huffed, grabbing his hand and taking him upstairs to your en-suite. You’d made sure to stock up on tests since you were now trying and you instructed him to wait on the bed while you took it.

‘There you go’ you smiled, walking out of the bathroom and handing him the capped test that was still loading. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? I’ll go get it started’ you told him as you made your way to the door but he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place, looking back at you like you’d lost your mind.

‘You’re not gonna wait?’

‘There's no point, it’ll be negative babe. Now what do you want?’ You told him, shrugging your shoulders as you really believe deep down that you had nothing to worry about as there was no way you were pregnant already.

‘You pick’ he told you quietly, and with a kiss to his forehead you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Mason was gone for a while, almost to the point where you were about to go and find him but he suddenly appeared in the doorway with his eyes full of tears and a soft smile on his face. You knew he would be upset that it was negative, knowing he wanted a third baby more than anything but you figured at least if he was smiling then he hadn’t taken it too hard.

You didn’t have a chance to say anything though, Mason coming straight over to you so he could cup your face and press gentle kisses over your cheeks which made you blush and your knees weak but you loved his gentle side and you let him shower with you affection.

Before you could reassure him everything would be fine and you had all the time in the world to try for baby number three, he pulled back to look at you and you were frozen in place as you knew what that look in his eye meant.

‘You’re pregnant baby’

‘What?’

‘You’re pregnant’ he laughed, kissing your cheeks again as you froze in his hold. Letting him continue to kiss your face and it’s like his words hadn’t hit you yet until he rested his forehead on top of yours.

‘You're lying’ you whispered, your bottom lip wobbling as your eyes started to burn but he just laughed at you. Reaching into his pocket to pull out the test so he could show you and there it was in black and white. The words pregnant staring you back in the face until you looked up into Masons happy ones. ‘We’re having a baby’

You burst into tears instantly as you fell into Mason's chest. Him holding you close to his body as he rocked you from side to side, letting you know it was okay and that he’d keep you safe, the both of you safe, and when you eventually pulled back he kissed your tears away.

‘I didn’t think it would be this quick, sorry it’s just a bit of a shock’ you laughed, trying to wrap your head around it as your stared back at the word pregnant.

‘It’s alright, baby. Are you feeling okay?’

‘I think so’ you laughed. Letting him grip the back of your thighs so he could place you on the counter and look him in the eye. ‘I just can’t believe it, like I don’t even know what to think’

‘Well It’s still early love, how about we keep it to ourselves for a little while and tell the kids when we’re certain everything’s okay’ he reassured you and you felt yourself relax at how calm and in control he was about everything. ‘We can tell the rest of the world after that when you’re ready but for now it’s just us yeah? You, me and Nala’ he joked before pulling you in for a well needed hug.

So you kept it to yourselves. Telling the kids after your 12 week scan and as soon as Tilly found out you were pregnant she’d barely left your side and was seemingly very quizzical about what was happening. You knew she wanted to come out and ask fully how it had happened but she kept it inside until one night when it was just the three of you.

Ollie was at a friend's house for dinner and after all of you had eaten, you were cuddled up on the sofa with Mason, Tilly nestled in between you. Her head on Mason's chest as you watched whatever was on the tv but soon enough Tilly was ready for a biology lesson.

‘Daddy, how did the baby get in mummy’s belly?’ she asked, her head tilting up to look at him but as soon as you looked up you could see the panic written all over his face.

‘Yeah, how did it happen, Mase?’ You teased wanting to know how he’d worm his way out of this one but you could see he was hating every second of this. Sending you a what the fuck face before looking back down at Tilly who was waiting patiently for him to explain.

‘Okay, so you know how you write a letter to Santa at Christmas?’ He started, Tilly nodding excitedly and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, wondering where the hell he was going with this but let him carry on. ‘Well, when two people who love each other very much want a baby, they write a letter to the stork and then you have to bury it in the garden so they can come and pick it up’

You could see Tilly wasn’t buying it, looking back at him in confusion and you yourself were waiting for what he had to say next.

‘But how?’

‘How what?’

‘His did they get into mummy’s belly’ he asked more firmly this time as Mason was quite clearly skirting around it but knowing Tilly she would ask and ask until she got her answer.

‘Well um… well then the stork, it comes back and uh… and it leaves a seed which is the baby… and uh, that goes in Mummy’s tummy’ he nodded, stuttering the whole way through as he was panicking but you were loving how flustered he was. Trying to hold in a laugh as you covered your mouth with your hand.

‘But how does the seed get in there?’ She persisted, watching Mason now try to hide a smile before his eyes flashed to yours and you knew he was about to say something he shouldn’t.

‘She swallows it’

‘Okay that’s enough for today’ you interrupted, pulling Tilly onto your lap ‘you need to go and pick Ollie up’ you told Mason with a slightly dissatisfied look on your face and he quickly kissed your forehead la with a smile before getting up. ‘Come on missy, let’s get you in the bath, yeah?’

‘Okay mummy,’ she smiled. Reaching over to give Mason a kiss on the cheek before making her way up the stairs and you promised her you’d be right up in a minute.

‘Right I won’t be long’ Mason laughed as he got up, reaching down to help pull you up with him but he must have caught the unimpressed look from you as he began to laugh at your expression. ‘What?’

‘You know what’ you laughed. ‘Maybe If I had swallowed we wouldn’t be in this state would we’

‘I love it when you talk dirty’ Mason laughed. Pulling you into him with his hand on your bum and he squeezed it as he kissed you heavily. ‘I’ll see you soon, maybe when the kids are in bed we can try-‘

‘Mason I swear to god’ you laughed, pulling away and tapping his chest before making a beeline for the stairs but the sound of his giggles as he made his way out the door made you giggle along too.

Things took a turn at the gender reveal though. The four of you not doing anything extravagant but you knew you wanted the kids involved so after you scan you gave your bestie Sid an envelope with the gender inside so she could organise a cake and the next day you were all sat around the kitchen island with wine glasses in hand ready to sink them into the cake and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mason and Ollie didn’t care what the gender was, as did you, but Tilly was gunning for a baby sister. Having already picked out some toys for her to have and she constantly referred to the baby as she. You knew there would be a meltdown if she didn’t get her way but you were trying to distract her as best you could.

‘Okay, are we ready?’ you laughed, popping your hand on Tilly’s glass to help her push down into the cake and after the count of three you shut your eyes and pushed down on both until you hit the board.

It was Tilly crying no that made you realise what had happened. Looking round to see everyone’s glass filled with the blue frosting from the inside of the cake but Tilly’s wails wouldn’t let you enjoy your time just yet.

Mason was trying his hardest to contain his laughter and when you pulled Tilly into a hug to console her, he wrapped his arms around the pair of you whilst Ollie just grabbed a fork and began to dig into his cake.

‘Tilly baby, it’s okay’ you tried to reassure her, holding your laughs in as best you could but she just cried harder.

‘I don’t like boys’ she sobbed into your neck as she held you tight and as much as Mason looked like he was about to lose it, he peeled Tilly away from you and began to talk to her quietly. Eventually taking her out into the garden where you could see him swaying her from side to side as he spoke into the side of her head and eventually she was nodding her head and wiping her eyes

You joined Ollie though, accepting the fork he passed you so you could dig in too while you spoke about the new baby boy on the way and Ollie was very quick to reassure you how excited he was and how much he wanted to help out.

‘Okay, I think we’re on board now’ Mason announced as he walked back in with Tilly on his hip. A smile on her face but her eyes were still red and watery so Mason sat her on the side so you could feed her some cake.

‘Tilly, my new book came today. Shall I read to you for a bit?’ Ollie asked, your heart melting at the way he wanted to cheer her up as Ollie reading to her was their thing. Whenever Tilly was on mad one or overwhelmed he’d often take her over to their little corner to calm down and your heart felt full as she toddled off with her hand in his.

‘So, another boy huh?’ Mason smiled as he came over to you. Resting his hands on your waist as you rested yours on his chest and you were thankful for a little bit of alone time with him.

‘Looks like it. And after two clones of you I’m hoping this one looks a little bit like me’ you told him before he kissed your forehead with a giggle.

‘Are you happy?’

‘Of course, as long as he's healthy I couldn’t care what they are,’ you told him softly and he nodded his head in agreement. ‘What did you say to Tilly?’

‘Told her it’s another boy to boss around. And that if she’s the only girl then she’ll always be my only princess’

‘What about me?’ you pouted, watching Mason roll his eyes but he was leaning down to kiss you just after.

You’d picked a few names out, but just like you’d done with Tilly you wanted to see him before you named him and once you had, the name Ryley seemed to fit him like a glove. Whilst you could tell he was Mason's boy you were constantly told how much he looked like you and it made your heart swell whenever you looked at him.

Tilly also came around as soon as she saw him. Almost bursting into tears at the way her little face softened at the sight of her new brother before she was looking up at you for permission to say hello to him and Ollie was just as perfect as ever with him.

A new baby meant a whole new routine though and lately it meant Ryleys feed came at bed time so Mason had to put the others to bed on his own. Usually he’d love this but clearly the novelty has worn off for Tilly and she was making it as difficult for him as possible.

Soon enough the noise died down. Mason telling Tilly that Ryley won’t want to stay with us if she’s too loud and she finally took the hint and got into bed. Letting Mason read her a very quick story before he went and said goodnight to Ollie with the house falling silent once more.

You felt Mason pop his head into the nursery soon after, his eyes and facial expression soft as he took you in but he couldn’t hide the deep blush on his cheeks. Eyes flicking down to your exposed chest as you fed Ryley and you could see he was debating whether or not he should come in but you nodded your head to motion for him to come over. Watching him carefully make his way over to the pair of you and when he was close enough you lifted your head in hopes he’d lean down and kiss you. Revealing in the feeling of his lips brushing against yours softly and you hummed in delight just before he pulled away.

‘You two alright in here?’ He asked quietly, crouching down so he could kiss Ryley’s head. Your heart fluttering at the adoring way he looked down at him before his gaze was locked on yours.

‘We’re okay. Are you okay?’ You laughed, referring to the nightmare he seemed to have just had with the others and you smiled as he rolled his eyes playfully.

‘Oh you heard that yeah?’ He laughed. ‘Unless you put Tilly to bed she’s a right pain in the arse’ he teased. ‘I love her but my god she’s a handful sometimes’

‘They don’t call her Tilly the tiny terror for nothing’ you winked. ‘You done good though sweet cheeks’

‘Thanks’ he laughed, rolling his eyes again. ‘I’m gonna go sort myself out but I’ll see you in our room in a bit, yeah? Take your time’

‘Okay’ you whispered and with one last heavy kiss to your lips he was making his way out.

You sat Ryley up not too long after so you could wind him. Knowing Mason hadn’t really got to see him all that much today and he’d be itching for a cuddle soon so you made your way back across the hall to your bedroom for some time for just the three of you.

You didn’t questione why the door to your bedroom was shut even though maybe you should have. He never usually shut it as it was harder for you to open with just one hand whilst carrying Ryley and you always kept it open just in case one of the kids needed you but you just shifted Ryley on your chest so he was over your left shoulder and pushed the door open.

You should have known there was a reason why he shut it. Walking around to be met with the sound of his loud breathing and when you rounded the corner and into his view you were shocked by the sight in front of you.

There he was laid on the bed, T-shirt riding high on his perfect body as his boxers had been shuffled down his thighs ever so slightly to free himself and even from the split second view you knew what he was doing as his hand moved up and down. A shocked gasp falling from your lips before you turned and you heard mason fumbling behind you.

‘Shit! Oh god, oh god no’

‘Mase, it’s okay’ you told him, slightly chuckling as you turned back around to face him but the look on his face made your heart drop.

His cheeks were redder than you’d ever seen them, a humiliated look plastered across his face no matter how much he tried to hide it and he looked on the brink of tears.

‘Masey, no don’t get upset it’s alright’

‘I need the bathroom-’

‘No wait’ you called, popping Ryley into his crib as quickly as you could before rushing over to him to stop him from hiding away in the en-suite for the rest of the night and thankfully you caught him before he was able to shut the door. ‘Come here baby, come and talk to me’

‘No I-‘

‘Mase, come on’ you interrupted, pulling him back to bed so you could sit on the edge with him in hopes he’d look at you. He was determined to keep looking down though so in the end you just held him tight and spoke into his hair. ‘It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed or anything. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before’

‘I thought I had more time’ he told you. Holding you tighter but you hated how down he sounded.

‘Look at me’ you whispered, letting him take his own time to gather himself before looking up at you shyly. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal’

‘I know I just… it’s still embarrassing’ he laughed. ‘I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught. I just thought you’d be a bit longer with the little man and I’d have time. I haven’t wanted to ask for… you know. I wanted to wait until you’re ready and-‘

‘Who said I’m not ready’ you smiled. ‘I gave birth 8 weeks ago now so that’s two weeks over’

‘I know’ he smiled. I’m just worried that’s all’

‘Worried about what?’

‘I don’t wanna hurt you’ he whispered and your heart broke at his sad face. ‘Remember what happened after Tilly?’ He asked and you nodded solemnly.

It had been six weeks since Tilly had been born and you knew Mason was chomping at the bit to have you. You were too big and uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy so it had been months since you’d last been intimate and it was almost as if Mason was counting down the days.

Your night didn’t go as planned though. Unbenounced to you, you still weren’t fully ready and even though Mason had been gentle with you and you’d tried to push through it, it hurt too much and you’d ended up bursting into tears.

Mason felt awful, almost in tears himself as he tried to comfort you but you knew he was blaming himself when he shouldn’t be. In the end you took his face in your hands so you could pepper his cheeks with kisses but your heart was breaking as he repeatedly told you how sorry he was.

‘Masey it’s not your fault’ you told him quietly, but he wasn’t having any of it. Hiding his head into your neck for the rest of the night until the pair of you eventually fell asleep.

He was quiet with you but extra soft for a few days until you could talk it out and let him know it wasn’t his fault. You just had to wait an extra few weeks and everything would go back to normal.

You could see it in his eyes now that he was frightened so you pulled him closer and cupped his jaw so you could look at each other properly.

‘Tilly had a massive head baby’ you laughed. ‘She was a right pain to get out but I don’t feel like I did with Tilly. Ryley was a breeze compared to her and I’m all healed up now. There’s nothing to be afraid of’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled. His body relaxing in your arms as you reassured him everything was okay and the small smile on his lips made you feel a lot better.

‘Yeah, of course. In fact… what do you say we pop Ryley in his nursery for a bit so we can have some time for just us’

‘Wait, what?’ He whispered, his face looking slightly shocked but in all honestly your been craving some alone time with Mason yourself. ‘Are you sure?’

‘100%, Just give me a sec and I’ll be back’ you told him. Slightly untangling yourself from him so you could pick up Ryley and take him over to his nursery. You never left him in here at night but he had his naps in here all the time so you made sure the baby cam was set up properly before dropping a kiss on his head. ‘I’ll be back for you soon, little one. Just keep sleeping for me’ you whispered. Taking one last look before making your way back to Mason.

He was sitting on the bed facing the door when you got back and a sudden wave of anxiety rolled over you as soon as you shut the door. Your body had changed so much since he’d last seen it and you knew you were covered in stretch marks and still sagging in certain places so when he pulled you in between his legs you tried not to look him in the eye.

‘Baby? Everything alright?’ He asked, fingers delicately tracing the backs of your thighs and you just nodded and you pulled him into a hug.

‘I’m okay, just nervous’ you laughed awkwardly. ‘It’s been a while’

‘I know, love. We can go as slowly as you want to though, yeah?’

‘I know’ you smiled, kissing his forehead gently but he could still read your mind and sense how apprehensive you were.

‘And I don’t care what you think your body looks like now. You know that don’t you? I love you and I just wanna make you feel good’

‘I know, Mase’ you smiled, eyes filling at his sweet words. He’d said the same after both your other babies had been born but the words still hit you deep. You didn’t look like you used you, three babies would have an effect on anyone but Mason never cared. He took you as you were and only cared about looking after you, telling you you’d given him everything he’d ever wanted and he’d make sure he looked after you in whatever way you needed.

His hands were trailing all over your bare legs, touching wherever he could as his lips pressed kisses to your chest and you couldn’t help but giggle as he finally got to touch all the places he’d missed for the last few months.

‘What’s so funny?’ He smiled, pinching your bum gently as you steadied yourself but his cheeky smile was melting you.

‘We’ve been together for so many years now, had three kids together and you’re still as horny as ever’ you chuckled, wanting him to know how ridiculous you found him but deep down you knew you were just as bad.

‘That’s what happens when you’ve got the most beautiful wife in the world’ he told you. ‘You know I’ll never not want you. Even when we’re grey and wrinkly I’ll still think you’re hot as fuck’

‘If you’re trying to get me in the mood, talking about old people probably won’t help’ you told him, kneeling onto the mattress and his light laugh made you smile.

‘Noted’ he winked, shuffling back and inviting you to lay with him and once you were next to him he laid you back gently and kissed you with as much passion as he could muster.

He kissed you until you felt dizzy, your hands gripping at him where you could and when when you moaned into his mouth he rolled ontop on you so he could look directly down at you.

‘What do you want baby? You want my fingers?’

‘Mhmmm’

‘Yeah? You don’t sound so sure’ he teased but before you could protest he was talking again. ‘I think I know what you really want’

‘What’s that?’

‘You want my mouth, don’t you?’ He whispered lowly into you ear. The sound making you shiver and a gasp to fall from your lip at the sound of his dirty words. ‘Thought so’ he chuckled and before you knew it he was kissing down your neck as he grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You knew it was just Mason and he loved you no matter what, so you let him remove all your clothes as he placed kisses to your exposed skin. Pushing any nervous thoughts out of your head so on you could enjoy the feel of him again.

As soon as his lips touched where they needed to you felt yourself melt. Feeling like you were floating on clouds as he reminded you what you’d been missing out on for months as you tried your hardest to keep your moans at bay and not wake anyone. He made it difficult though. Getting back into the rhythm of things like he’d never been away and soon enough your fingers were getting tangled in his hair as he pushed you over the finish line.

‘Stop biting your lip, I wanna do that’ he laughed, as he made his way back up to your face. Kissing you so you could taste yourself and you let out quiet moan as he gently sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.

‘I’m trying to be quiet’ you laughed, lips against his as you spoke before he stole another kiss from you. Knowing he was ready and raring to go.

‘What do you want now baby?’

‘I want you. All of you,’ you told him. Watching a slight nervousness flicker through him and you wanted to reassure him straight away. Gripping the back of his neck so you could tug him back down for a kiss and as he got into it you began to undress him until you were both naked and needy for each other.

You knew he was watching you the whole time as he pushed his way inside of you. Your face contorting in pleasure as he took his time before bending down to press gentle kisses over your face.

‘Is that okay?’ He whispered, moving his hips slowly so you could adjust to him but you were already seeing stars after not feeling him for so long and all you could muster was a nod. ‘Yeah?’ Breathed, a sense of relief laced through his voice and you nodded as you tried to reassure him further.

‘Yes masey, keep doing that’ you moaned, louder than you’d intended to but it all felt so intense and you knew mason was feeling it too.

‘Should I slow down?’

‘No, just like that’ you sighed. Reaching up to grab his shoulders so you had something to steady yourself but also because you wanted to feel his skin under yours.

‘You wonder why I still can’t keep my hands off of you?’ He moaned, pulling up so he could hold you at your waist and take a bit more control. ‘Fucking look at you, you’re unreal’

‘Mase-‘

‘I know gorgeous. I’m with you, just let go for me’ he told you and you did exactly as he said. Letting him coax you through it until you were spent and he was flopping down gently next to you.

Sometimes you felt like this was your favourite bit. Laying skin to skin with your man as he gently stroked your back and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into him more as you made every second count. You’d missed these moments with him and from the way he was holding you close you knew he’d missed it too.

‘You okay?’ He whispered after a while. Feeling your eyes growing heavier as he lulled you to sleep but you looked up at him with a soft smile as he kissed your nose.

‘I’m perfect’

‘I didn’t hurt you at all did I?’ He questioned quietly but you shook your head so he knew you were fine straight away.

‘I promise you, I’m absolutely fine’ you told him. Pecking his lips softly before sighing. ‘I’m so comfy but I need to go and get Ryley. I don’t like leaving him in there alone for too long’

‘Stay there, okay? I’ll go get little man’ he reassured you. Kissing your head gently before untangling himself from you so he could get dressed and grab your boy.

You got dressed too whilst he was gone and you were just pulling your top over your head as he walked back in with Ryley cuddled into his chest. Your heart thumping at the way they were together and no matter when or where, watching Mason with a tiny human always made your knees weak.

‘Come on boys, mumma needs a cuddle’ you laughed. Jumping up onto the bed and letting Mason pass you Ryley before he laid next to you. His head on your chest as Ryley laid on the other side and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at Mason and seeing how happy he was to have some time with Ryley. ‘You okay, Mase?’

‘I’m better than okay’ he smiled, reaching up to give you a quick peck before nuzzling back down into your neck. ‘Thank you for everything, I never thought I could be this happy’

You didn’t have the words for him. Your eyes filling with tears as you kissed his temple but inside you were agreeing with him wholeheartedly. You too never thought you could ever be this happy but as you thought about where you were right now and who you were with, you knew right now your life and your family were complete.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hoped you enjoyed it and I’d love if you could leave me some feedback if you fancy it 😘

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[corroded-hellfire]

Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.

Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.

Words: 6k

Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin. 

Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.

“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts. 

Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”

The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half. 

“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.

Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response. 

“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.

“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you. 

“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates. 

“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over. 

“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says. 

“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria. 

Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him. 

“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.” 

“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return. 

“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”

“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you. 

“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.

“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie. 

“Who’s that desperate?” 

Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers. 

“Calling Kel desperate?” 

“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”

“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter. 

“But seriously,” Jeff says.

“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.” 

Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in. 

You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain. 

“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend. 

“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway. 

Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction. 

“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.

She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further. 

“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.

“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”

“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was. 

“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there. 

“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”

“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.

“Feel better!”

Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel. 

Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that. 

Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door. 

Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart. 

“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”

Right. 

“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”

“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth. 

“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness. 

“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue. 

“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. 

“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement. 

“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.” 

“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look. 

You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong. 

On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today. 

There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now. 

Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish. 

As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you. 

Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand. 

“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”

“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this. 

“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”

Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level. 

“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”

Dustin sighs and nods his head.

“Can’t see them together?” he asks.

“Correct.”

He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”

The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. 

“I know,” you admit. “I do.”

“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says. 

“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles. 

“No, I think we all look at him that way.”

You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.

“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.” 

“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”

That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks. 

“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.

“Who doesn’t?”

The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you. 

You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies. 

Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart. 

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks. 

Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.

The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you. 

But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately. 

In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you. 

She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it. 

“I know you’re not asleep.”

The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers. 

“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”

Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly. 

“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to. 

“It’s over,” he says.

You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.

“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer. 

“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”

“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”

Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.

“She stood you up?” 

“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”

“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip. 

“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”

“Well, kind of,” you say quietly. 

“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach. 

“It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”

“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”

Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.

“Had a crush?” you ask. 

Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.

“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”

“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”

“Just didn’t click?” you ask.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.” 

“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.

“I was being serious,” he says.

“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”

“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.” 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly. 

“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”

The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy. 

“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed. 

“And what’s that?”

“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.” 

“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain. 

“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”

“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.

“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.” 

“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.

“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”

“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt. 

“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream. 

“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense. 

“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”

“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him. 

You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own. 

The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done. 

When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head. 

“Eddie?” you call.

“Coming!”

He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.

“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”

“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”

He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”

Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup. 

“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling. 

“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.

“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers. 

“I hit the dial again.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”

“You know I love Van Halen.”

Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”

“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”

“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”

You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”

Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly. 

The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.” 

“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”

The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual. 

“What about me?”

“Just…you.”

“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose. 

The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.

“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good music?”

“Of course.”

“Can I wear comfy clothes?”

“I’ll be wearing mine.”

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

[eideticmemory]

DARLING & DANDELION | SPENCER REID

Spencer is a lot of things to you. Your baby daddy, your lover, your best friend, and a massive pain in your ass.

Word Count: 6k.

Warning/Includes: Dad!Spencer, smut, angst, hurt/comfort.

You haven’t even caught your breath yet and you go, “We can’t do this anymore.”

And Spencer’s, whose chest is still heaving up and down, goes, “Wh…what?”

“We can’t do this anymore,” you wipe sweat from your forehead. “It’s tacky.”

Spencer props himself up his elbow and turns his body to face you, “Tacky? What do you mean?”

“Don’t do that. You know what I mean.”

“It’s…I mean…we…it’s healthy.”

“Tuh!” you laugh. “That’s your professional opinion, doctor?”

“Yes. Yes, sex is good for the body and the mind.”

“What if…” you prop yourself up on your elbows, “It’s with your ex, who you can never work it out with, who you have a kid with, on an occasional and convenient basis?”

“From personal experience, it’s the best sex you can ever have,” he finishes his sentence with a devilish smile and you roll your eyes, poke your tongue out at him.

You shake your head, “I have to go. You have to go,” you get out of bed.

Spencer’s eyes scan over your naked body and he asks, “Why? Where are you going?”

“Gotta pick up Dandelion from my mom’s,” you tell him as you button your jeans.

“Can I come?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? I haven’t seen Dandy in a week.”

“It’s not about you seeing Dandy. It’s about my mom seeing you.”

“What? She loves me.”

“Duh, more than she loves me, but you know how she likes to pry. She’s gonna think we’re back together.”

“Ah! No, not that we’re back together,” he mocks. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, darling.”

“Well, it’s not a good thing. Put some clothes on.”

“Take your clothes off.”

“Oh, you wish.”

“Can I come?”

“You came about five minutes ago, mister. It’s time for you to go.”

He fakes a laugh, “You’re so clever. Can I come?”

“Are you going to keep asking?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes. “Fine, just, put some fucking clothes on.”

“You’re so easy to wear down,” he giggles, and he hops up, gets himself dressed. You go to leave the room and he calls out to you, “Hey.”

He steps in front of you, takes a good look, and runs his hand over your hair, “I think it would be a good thing…”

You feel this lump in your throat, jammed in the center of your voice box, blocking any air, any words. You tear your eyes away from him and clear your throat, “God, I hate your haircut.”

He chuckles to himself as you maneuver around him and he follows you out to your car.

You ring your mom’s doorbell and say, “Need you to act normal, please.”

“Oh, so, not like we just came from having sex?”

“Exactly.”

You feel him squeeze your ass and you jump, swat at his arm, “Hey!”

“I’m just getting it all out now.”

And as you roll your eyes, the door opens and your mom greets you with nothing but an, “Oh!”

“Hey, mom,” you wave as you step inside.

“Hey, mom,” Spencer mimics and gives her a big hug.

“Well, this is a surprise, huh?”

“Wrapped up with a case early, darling said I could tag along.”

You round the corner into the living room and see Dandelion sitting in front of the TV, legs crisscrossed underneath her. You lean against the wall and just watch her for a moment. You scan over her features, your eyes landing on the tip of her nose that pokes out just like her dad’s. You clear your throat and she does a double take when she sees you.

“Mommy!” she shouts, and she hops up at lightning speed, rushing towards you as fast as her little feet will carry her.

You drop to your knees and let her crash into you, engulf her in your arms, hold her really tight. You pepper her face with kisses, saying, “Hi, baby, hi, baby!”

“Did you have a good day at work?” she asks you.

“Yes, baby. How was your day with Mimi?”

“We got ice cream.”

“No way!”

“Yes!”

“What kind of ice cream?”

“Chocolate,” she giggles.

“Ooh, that’s your favorite. Did you eat all of it?”

“Yes.”

“Every single bite?”

“Yes!”

“Where did it all go, huh?” You start to tickle her tummy and she falls over in laughter. “Here? Here?”

Her giggles are so loud and contagious that you smile so wide, it hurts your face. “Guess what? I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, you,” you tickle her face. “Look,” you stand her up. “Look who’s here.”

On queue, Spencer pops his head around the corner and Dandelion’s eyes light up. She jumps up and down, screaming, “Daddy!”

“Dandy!” Spencer exclaims, and he scoops her up in his arms.

You stand up as he walks her into the living room, pecking soft kisses all over her face, twirling her around, “Oh, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You watch the two of them, Spencer sat on the couch with Dandelion in his lap, his arms around her protectively. And as you settle into the peace of it all, something - someone - pinches you very hard and they won’t let go.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you wince, as your mom drags you into the kitchen.

“What the hell is Spencer doing here?” she whispers.

She stands in front of you with her arms crossed and you suddenly feel like a little girl. You cut your eyes over to Spencer and Dandy very briefly and stutter, “He…told you. They finished the case early and he asked if he could come see Dandy.”

“Mmhmm…” she nods.

“Mom, please,” you groan.

“Don’t mom, please me. What is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I…we…he wanted to come see Dandy, so I let him come see Dandy. Coparenting 101, I don’t understand why you’re so suspicious.”

“What…what is this…” she reaches in and pulls down the collar of your shirt to reveal your neck. “Is…is that a hickey? Oh, [y/n], c’mon. What are you? 15?”

“No, no, I…burnt myself with a flat iron.”

She sighs, “I hope you know what you’re doing here, kid.”

“I’m not doing anything. Nothing is happening. I…”

“Shush,” she tells you and you turn around as Spencer enters the kitchen.

“Darling?” he calls.

“Hm?” you reply.

“Could I, uh, could Dandy come home with me? I’ll be off tomorrow and I can watch her while you’re at work and you could pick her up after?”

You and your mom exchange a glance and you cross your arms defensively, “Sure,” you nod at him. “Sure, if Dandy’s okay with that.”

“Thank you!” he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and your mom raises her eyebrows at you.

Spencer runs back into the living room, chanting, “Daddy and Dandy day! Daddy and Dandy day! Daddy and Dandy day!” and Dandelion bursts into laughter, repeating him, going, “Daddy and Dandy day! Daddy and Dandy day!”

“Does he know nothing is happening?” your mom asks you.

“Spencer’s a smart boy, mom. Don’t worry about him.”

“And yet,” she sucks her teeth. “He’s a complete dumbass when it comes to you.”

Spencer asks if you can drive them to the park. There, JJ meets you with Henry. Dandy and him are close in age. In fact, Spencer had just returned from seeing Henry in the hospital when you told him you were pregnant. It was not your best timing, considering his familial trauma and all, but it had to be done. This puts Henry at 4 and Dandy running in close second at 6 months behind. JJ takes a seat next to you on the bench, watching Spencer run around with the kids. There are the casual aspects of conversation. The how are yous and how’s work and anecdotes about the kids and then she asks, “So, what’s going on between you two?”

“Ugh,” you groan. “Is there a sign on my face today or something?”

“Sore subject?” she grins.

“No. Nothing sore about it. Nothing’s going on…” you look at her from the corner of your eye, then turn your head, “Why? Why, did he say something to you?”

“No.”

A beat passes.

“You seem disappointed by that,” she adds.

“Oh, no. Don’t do that. Do not profile me. You know I hate it when you guys do that.”

She laughs, “Well, I lied. He talks about you all the time.”

You bite down on your lip and look away.

A beat passes.

JJ says, “You seem pleased by that.”

You drive Spencer and Dandelion to his apartment and she runs in like she owns the place.

“Okay, so,” you hold out her backpack for him. “She’s got a change of clothes in here, some hair clips, some ties, oh, uh, how much of her body wash and shampoo do you have left? Because I don’t think I put any in here…”

When you look up and he’s giving you a blank stare, you go, “What?”

“You’re not gonna come in?”

“It’ll just confuse her.”

Spencer wants to argue. He wants to sweet talk you and coax you inside, but coparenting 101, “No, yeah, you’re right.”

He watches you kiss Dandelion goodbye and when she runs back inside, he says, “Call you at bedtime?”

“Yes. Please.”

He has that look in his eye like he wants to kiss you, you know it well. So you leave before he can get a chance.

When you’re laying in bed that night, Spencer calls you on FaceTime and he sets you up on the nightstand so you can see them both. Dandelion laying in bed and Spencer kneeling beside her.

“Hi, mommy!” They say in unison.

“Hi,” you giggle.

“We were just about to pick Dandy’s story for the night,” Spencer tells you. “Dandy?”

She tilts her head.

“What story do you want tonight, baby?”

“Ummm…” she hums, giggling, “The story about my name.”

“Ohhh, that’s a good story,” Spencer grins.

“That is a good story,” you smile.

Spencer holds Dandelion’s hands in his and starts, in this sweet, soft voice, “Once upon a time…there was a mommy and a daddy. And they loved each other sooo much that they were gonna have a…”

“Baby!” she finishes for him and he chuckles.

“That’s right, they were gonna have a baby! And the mommy and daddy were sooo excited about their baby, they just couldn’t wait. But when the time came for the baby to come…”

“She didn’t wanna come out!” Dandy laughs.

“No, no, no, the baby didn’t wanna come out. She wanted to stay warm and cozy in the mommy’s belly. So, the mommy and daddy tried everything to get their baby to come out, but nothing worked! Until one day, they went for a walk at the park. And the mommy was so big that she walked like this…” Spencer mimics your trademark waddle and the two of you laugh at him, you rolling your eyes at the screen. “And they walked and walked and walked and nothing was working. Until, this big, big gust of wind came by…”

He flails his arms, going, “Whoooooosh!” and Dandelion mimics him.

“It was so big, it almost knocked the mommy and daddy over. And when the wind stopped, this tiny, small dandelion floated out of the sky and landed right on the mommy’s belly…and then…”

“Pop!” they say in sync.

“The baby was ready to come out! So the daddy took the mommy to the hospital and out came the most beautiful baby the world has ever, ever seen. The mommy and daddy were so happy and they loved her so much. But they still had to pick a name for her. So after they thought and thought and thought, they named her…”

“Diana Dandelion Reid,” she smiles.

“That’s right,” Spencer nods. “But we just call you Dandy.”

Dandelion smiles as Spencer places a kiss on her nose. “Goodnight, baby. Say good night to mommy,” he grabs his phone and holds it up to her.

“Goodnight, mommy,” she tells you and your heart just melts.

“Goodnight, baby,” you whisper. “I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She nods and rolls over as Spencer turns out the lamp, leaving her to sleep. Once he’s out of the room, he closes the door and gives you a soft smile.

“Thanks for joining us, darling.”

You smile, nod, “It’s a good story.”

“The best.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

While you’re at work the next day, Spencer sends you a picture of the two of them out on the lake.

S: Pedal boats today!

You giggle to yourself.

Y: Omg so fun!! I thought you were afraid of open water?

S: I was terrified but she begged and begged and begged! What was I supposed to do???

Y: 😂😂😂

You pick up Dandelion after work and she is distraught.

“I don’t want daddy to go!” she cries and you see Spencer’s heart break. You can hear it.

“He’ll be back, baby, he always come back,” you whisper, rubbing her back.

“No-oo-oo!” she cries and reaches up for Spencer who scoops her into his arms before she can ball her hands into a fist.

“Hey, hey, hey, Dandy, look at me,” he cooes. He wipes the tears from her eyes, “You and mommy are going to call me everyday, huh? And you’ll tell me all about your fun day with Mimi and we’ll do your story before bed and I promise you, I will be back before you know it. Okay?”

She sniffles, gives him a sad nod.

“Okay, give me a hug,” he says and they squeeze each other real tight. “You, too, mommy,” he holds his other arm open for you and you hesitate, but only for a moment, and then you step in and wrap your arms around both of them.

“Mmm,” he hums happily, gives you both a kiss on the cheek, “My girls. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Dandelion lets Spencer hand her over to you and he waves until you guys are out of the door and all the way down the stairs. Then he exhales all the air in his chest and he cries. But only for a little bit.

He’s gone for a little over two weeks. The day he comes back, he doesn’t really give you any notice, he just texts: Back in town. What are you up to?

And you, still at work, reply: Nothin. Workin.

S: Lunch?

You meet him at a restaurant down the street and when you walk in, he gets so excited that he stands up to wave and knocks all the silverware off the table. Your hand flies to your mouth as it all falls to the floor in a loud sequence of clangs and booms and you watch him scramble to pick it all up. People are staring and as you make the decision to walk over to him, it’s like you’re saying to everyone: yep, he’s mine!

“Hi, darling,” he huffs, his face bright red.

“Hi,” you laugh.

He takes you in a warm embrace and you hold the back of his head in your hand.

“Oh, I missed you,” he says.

“We missed you, too.”

He’s not supposed to, but like he always has, he tells you all about the case they were working on. Full of twists and turns and gorey details that make you sick to your stomach but, somehow, you can still eat. He asks about Dandy and that leads you into the dreaded preschool conversation and you both shut it down instantly.

“How did she get so big?” he asks.

“We just…kept feeding her,” you laugh and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Time needs to slow down. Seriously. It’s happening too fast.”

“I know. I know, I know, but we’ve got so much more to look forward to, y’know? First day of school and science fairs and graduations…”

“Ah-ah! No, no, none of that. She’s gonna be little forever.”

“You’re in denial, doctor.”

“Well, duh.”

“Here’s the check, you guys,” the waiter interrupts. “No rush, though. Take your time.”

“Thanks,” you say in unison.

“He only brought one check?” you question.

Spencer raises his eyebrows at you.

“And he gave it to you? How caveman of him.”

“Now, now, darling, stand down. Let me pay for your food.”

“I mean, of course I’m going to let you pay for it. I just don’t like the assumption.”

“What assumption?” he smirks.

“I…you really like driving me insane, don’t you?”

He cackles and nods, “Yeah, actually. Kinda my job.”

You laugh and lean into him a bit. The booth you two are in has you sandwiched shoulder to shoulder, and sure, there is plenty of room for there to be distance between you two, but you don’t want there to be. You look at his neck and reach in. As your fingertip touches his skin, you can feel his pulse kick up. You pull the chain from underneath his shirt and let the dandelion pendant fall to his chest.

“Where’s yours?” he asks and his fingertips trail over your collarbone, grabbing onto your matching necklace.

You release his chain, but he won’t let go off yours and he’s giving you that look and you just shake your head, “I should really get back to work.”

When you get to his place, the two of you burst through the door, bodies mangled and tangled together, lips mushed into each other’s faces. Spencer’s got his arms wrapped tight around your waist and your hands have gotten lost in his hair. As he pushes you backwards, you trip over a barbie doll and nearly fall over but he catches you.

“You okay?” he mumbles.

“Mhm,” you nod, and you whip your bodies around, push him onto the couch. He lands with a deep, “oof!” and watches you crawl into his lap. His eyelids drop, feeling the warmth of your hand on his face and your lips on his neck. He grips onto your waist, bunches your dress up in his hands and you work to unbutton his shirt.

You breathe into each other’s mouths, out of breath and grinding against one another on a constant, rhythmic loop.

“Mm,” you moan as he licks down your neck. “Do you have a condom?”

“Mm,” he ponders, “Condom, condom, condom…yes!” And he throws you off of him, leaving you laying on your back while he runs into his room. You slide your panties off and he returns with the packet in hand and falls right on top of you.

His body perched between your legs, you undo his pants and take his jaw in your hands, put your tongue in his mouth. He puts the condom on and holds onto the couch as he pushes all the way into you. You both gasp and Spencer crashes on top of you, catching you in a messy kiss. You pull your legs back for him and he starts pounding into you with this rhythm that you love and he knows that you love. He peppers soft kisses all over your face and grunts into your ear, grips onto your jaw so he can look you in the eye. He thrusts into you so quickly and with so much force that the couch is rattling around on the floor and your head is getting knocked off the edge of the couch. But he’s got you.

Your moans bounce off the walls and your mouth is wide open as you scream, “Fuck!”

As Spencer leans into kiss you, the both of you lose your balance and go sliding off the couch.

“Oh, shit!” you gasp, and try to hold on, but it’s too late and you guys fall on the floor, Spencer groaning as he breaks your fall.

“Oh, my god,” you whisper, leaning down to comfort him. “Oh, my god, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, just…just do that thing with your hips that I like,” he huffs.

You readjust, “This?” you pant as you start to grind your hips on his cock.

“Oh, yeah,” he moans, his eyes falling shut and his head rolling back. “Yeah, that’s it.”

You lean back, resting your hands on his knees and bounce on him, your mouth falling open. He paws at your breasts and pulls at the fabric of your dress. He knows you’re about to come because he knows you, and he knows your body and he can feel you tightening around him, your hips increasing in speed. Your voice starts to get real whiny and you pound your palms into his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper and all he can do is watch, and hold himself back until you get there.

He takes your nipple into his mouth and you tangle your fingers in his hair and grind yourself against him until your whole body tenses up and trembles. You come with his face in your chest and your eyes rolling so far back in your head that you go blind. It only takes a few more motions of your hips for him to follow behind you and he holds onto you for dear life, muffling his groans against your skin.

You both fall onto the floor, still holding each other, trying to catch your breath. Spencer grips onto your hair and kisses you passionately, repeatedly, and casually says, “Love you.”

You can’t stop the visceral reaction you have. You just sit up and stare at him, your eyes big and wide. “I…” you stutter, give him a friendly pat on the face, “Love you…I have to go.”

He watches, dazed and confused, as you hop off of him and fix your dress, “You’re making me feel cheap here, darling.”

You laugh, awkwardly, “No, no, I just, I’m so late for work. I have to get back,” you trip over your panties as you pull them up your legs and swear, “Shit!”

Spencer fixes his pants and stands up, striding over to you, “I freaked you out…”

“What? No. You didn’t freak me out.”

“Because, I can say I don’t love you if it’ll fix it.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

“I don’t love you, I…hate you actually.”

“I’m just late for work,” you try to slide out the door but he reaches out for you.

“Wait, wait,” he calls. “I thought I could maybe see Dandy today?”

“Uh, yeah, she’s at my mom’s just, go whenever,” you shrug. “I have to go. Bye.”

“Darling?” he calls, but you close the door on him.

Your body shivers and you march down the hallway, down the stairs and back on your way to work. When your shift ends, you head over to your mom’s and she opens the door with a bright smile, “Hello, my love!”

“Hi,” you groan as you step inside.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just, rough day. Need to see my Dandy…” you round the corner and see Spencer playing with her in the living room, so you push yourself back, your mom along with you.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you whisper.

“He’s been here for a few hours. He said he told you?”

“He…I mean…yeah, he did. Why is he still here?”

“I don’t know, [y/n], maybe to be an active, caring father? Crucify the boy, why don’t you?”

Your heart is pounding out of your chest and you tug on your hair with a rush of anxiety.

“[y/n]…” your mom says. “What is going on?”

You sigh and lean against the wall, “I don’t know what I’m doing…you were right, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And she steps in, grabs your shoulders, takes a deep breath. You follow her. In and out, in and out.

“Well, then,” she nods. “You better figure it the fuck out, baby.”

“I know. I know, I know.”

“Mommy?” Your heads turn to the sound of the tiny voice and Dandelion looks up at you with wide, innocent eyes and every bit of tightness in your chest just dissipates.

“Hi, honey,” you coo and you instantly lean down to pick her up. “Oh, hi, you. Hi, my baby.”

Spencer follows her out there and waves, casually, “Hi, mommy.”

“Hi,” you nod to him.

“Me and daddy made a castle,” Dandelion tells you. “Come look!”

“Oh, yes, show me, show me!”

You follow her into the living room, leaving Spencer with your mom. She purses her lips at him and then promptly walks by him, giving his shoulder a harsh slap.

“Ow!” he exclaims. “What did I do?”

Spencer takes Dandelion home for the night. It’s a Friday so he plans to have her all weekend and most of next week which is fine with you. It’ll give you time to rest and reflect and figure it the fuck out. Spencer takes the hint. For once, he takes the hint and he only texts you sporadic updates.

So, when he calls you on Monday at four in the morning, you think he wants to have a talk. One of those conversations that you guys can never seem to have in the light of day.

“Hello?” you grumble.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry I woke you up. Can you, um, can you come over?”

You sit up, “Why? Is Dandy okay?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s fine. She’s asleep. I, uh…there’s a case…”

You sigh. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re already up to get dressed.

“Darling…”

“I’ll be there in ten,” and you hang up.

He sees your car pull in from the street and he has the door open for you when you get upstairs. He has his go-bag packed and he looks apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I’ll make it up to you. Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off. “I’ve got it. You can go.”

“Darling, you know I can’t…I…I didn’t ask to be called in.”

“No, well, duh. This is just one of those things, right?” you shrug. “One of those things I could never stand and I still can’t stand. I’m used to it. It’s fine. I’ll explain to Dandy.”

“This isn’t about the case…”

“Can you…please?”

“This is about the other day. When we…when I…”

“I’m not upset. Don’t project on me. I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay, that was convincing.”

“Why do you always have to do this?” you snap, keeping your voice down. “Without fail. You always do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you always have to ruin a good thing? You always, always just have to suck the fun out of everything.”

He scoffs, goes to speak, and pauses, “Did it ever occur to you that…that it wasn’t fun for me, [y/n]?”

Oh, he’s serious. He used your real name.

“That I didn’t enjoy being yanked around and used like some toy?”

“I…oh, come on! Is your eidetic memory broken or something? You initiated it, remember? And if you did that just in hopes of us getting back together, that’s not fair. That’s so unfair.”

“I just wanted to be close to you. And, yeah, maybe that wasn’t fair. But I just…I’m having a hard time believing that it doesn’t work. That we don’t work, hey,” he grabs your shoulders, makes you stop shaking your head and look at him, “Maybe for all the hurt we’ve caused each other and all the baggage, maybe it’s just meant to work. We are meant to work, okay? Because I love you. I am so in love with you. I don’t know how to not be in love with you, look,” he puts your hand to his chest, “Feel how fast my heart is beating? It does not every time I’m around you. I can’t help it.”

“Please, stop.”

“And you’re telling me you don’t feel the same way?” he puts his hand to your ribs and your heart is pounding against his palm. “I don’t believe you.”

It takes you a moment before you can pry his hand away. You remove your hand from his chest, hold his hands in yours, and give him this sad, sad look.

You can see his shoulders fall in defeat, this heavy breath of air coming straight from his chest. He steps away and grabs his go-bag, stands up straight, “It’s a local case so I shouldn’t be gone too long. Kiss Dandy for me?”

You nod, but you can’t look at him. You let him place a kiss on your forehead and then he leaves. You lock the door behind him.

You crawl into bed with Dandelion and you stir for most of the night.

By the time you fall asleep, she wakes up twenty minutes later.

And so, life just kinda goes on. Spencer calls to talk to Dandy just before you go into work so you tell him to call your mom and he does. That’s the last you hear from him for the next couple of days until he calls you while you’re at work.

“Hello?” you answer.

“[y/n]?”

You pause for a moment, “JJ?” and then the realization hits you and you hop up from your desk, running out of the building.

There’s some words like “bomb” and “concussion” and “pavement” but they all blur together and you yell, “Just tell me what hospital!”

You can’t even remember where you parked your car. Everything is muffled and you rush around the crowded hospital in a frenzy. You can’t hear anything. Hell, you can barely see anything. Just Derek, holding an ice pack to his head, pointing you towards a room so you go.

When you see Spencer lying there, a big bandage wrapped around the circumference of his head and a doctor tracking his vitals, you can barely bring yourself to step in the room.

The doctor glances at you, then returns to his clipboard, “Are you his wife?”

You step in, slowly, bring yourself to Spencer’s side, “I’m, uh, the closest thing he’s got to one.”

He tells you there’s some swelling around Spencer’s brain, but it’s been drained. He can’t provide you with an exact estimate of when Spencer will wake up. If he ever wakes up. And as this man is talking to you in this stern, stoic voice, you just look at Spencer. You trace the structure of his face and put your hand on his chest. The doctor leaves and you still can’t pull yourself away from him.

“You did this on purpose,” you whisper, caressing his face. “You did this on purpose to make me feel bad, didn’t you? Because…because I was awful to you…I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry.”

You lay your head on his chest and cry, “Just don’t die. I can’t do this by myself, you hear me? Please, don’t, die.”

Spencer wouldn’t wake up for another four whole days. You sleep in the chair beside his bed until a nice nurse brings you a cot. Dandelion stays at your mom’s house and JJ offers, repeatedly, to give you a a chance to leave. Shower, eat, see your kid. But you’re so worried that if you leave, Spencer will die. So you fall asleep every night to the sound of his heartbeat on the monitor and if it ever should stop, you would know. On day four, you pop your head up from a few hours sleep and he’s watching you. His eyes are hooded and grey, but they are open, you can tell. You hop up and rush over to him, gently setting your hands on his body.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Hi! Hi! Hi, Spencer,” you sob. “Oh, my god.”

He stares at you for a moment, then his eyes scan the room. He looks back at you, “Who…” his voice breaks, “Are you?”

Your eyes go wide and you let out this defeated sound. You don’t even know where to begin. You don’t know how to respond or what to do or how to feel. You think you’re gonna crumble to your knees. And then he smiles.

“I’m just messing with you, darling.”

“Ugh!” you shout and you start slamming your palms into his chest. “That’s not funny!”

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he laughs. “Okay, okay, okay, I’m injured here!”

You take his face in your hands and give him a long kiss. You can hear his heart rate go up on the monitor.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he mumbles, as you hug him. “I’m…I’m sorry for everything.”

“No, stop that. Not important. Ridiculously unimportant, okay? Don’t even think about it.”

He nods and breathes you in, “You…stink. When was the last time you showered?”

“That would be…like, the day you were blown up.”

“Ah. When was that?”

“Four days ago.”

“Holy shit.”

You giggle, “Did you just say a bad word, doctor l?”

“Fuck, cut me some slack! I slept through hump day.”

You press your nose against his and laugh and the world feels okay again.

Spencer has to stay in the hospital for another week before you can bring him home. Dandelion is back in her own bed and she just thinks Spencer has gone on a long, long trip. She’s at your mom’s when you get Spencer to his apartment and he begs to see her. Even when his head is still killing him, he begs to see her.

“Tomorrow,” you say as you tuck him into bed. “You’ve still got that scary raccoon look going on. Don’t wanna freak her out.”

“Tomorrow? You promise?”

“I promised the both of you. Tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He curls up and notices you crawl in bed beside him, “Darling, you don’t have to sleep here.”

“Shhhh,” you whisper, run your hand through his hair, “Go to sleep.”

The next day, he is more like himself. Maybe it’s the adrenaline he gets from the prospect of seeing his daughter, maybe it’s waking up next to you in the morning, but either way, he looks like himself and he talks like himself and he can’t wait to go to the park.

Your mom meets you there with Dandelion and she trips over her feet running to Spencer. She crashes into him and nearly knocks him over, and you can tell it hurts him, but he takes it and kisses her face.

“Where were you, daddy?”

“Oh, on a long, long trip, baby. But I’m back now.”

“I missed you!”

“Oh, Dandy,” he squeezes her tight. “You have no idea.”

He plays for as long as he can. He climbs the playset and runs around playing tag and hide and seek until his breath nearly gives out. He runs over to the bench you and your mom are sat on and huffs, “Can someone else push her on the swing before I pass out?”

The two of you laugh and your mom says, “I’ll go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer takes her spot beside you and his head falls into your lap. “Phew! Tell you what, a coma seriously bends you out of shape.”

“Well, you weren’t all that much in shape before the coma.”

“Ugh,” he groans. “You sound like the fitness personnel at the academy. What does in shape even mean?”

You cackle and he puts his arm over your shoulder. The two of you watch Dandy on the swing. Up and down, up and down, higher and higher, until her laughter is echoing around the park.

“You know…” you start. “Maybe it wouldn’t be…the worst thing in the world…”

Spencer doesn’t even have to ask what you’re talking about, he just looks at you and smiles, “Really?”

You give him a sly shrug.

He looks away from you, trying to keep himself from smiling so hard that his face rips in half. “I…I’m sorry - it’s because I got blown up, isn’t it?”

“Just shut up,” you laugh.

“You can tell me the truth, I won’t be mad.”

“You know what? I take it back, you get on my nerves. Oof!” you exclaim as he suddenly takes you into a tight hug. And for the first time in a long time, you feel a calm, serene peace.

“Yeah, well,” he says, “Sorry, too late.”

#spencer reidxreader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #mine #Spotify

[webslingingslasher]

Crush

Genre: fluff

Word count: 6k

Summary: you like peter, he doesn't get it. until you confide in spider-man

i hope you guys like this, i've been really really busy at work but i'm working on my other fic i promise.

You didn’t know Peter Parker was Spider-Man. 

To be fair, no one really knew. Tony Stark knew because he knows everything, May knows because she walked in on him in the suit, so did Ned, and MJ found out on her own, because, well, she knows everything. So enter in you, a girl who moved into the city and got into a smart kid school. Almost immediately you befriended MJ, you sat next to her in English and noticed her head stuck in a book. You leaned over into her space, you saw her tense up and smiled at her eyes peeking at you through the corners.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m new here and I want to die in a falling elevator, what about you?” 

MJ peered at you and smirked, she stuck out a hand to shake yours.

“Hi, I’m MJ. I’m old here and I’m still trying to decide.” 

You two have been friends since. 

“No, you’re not getting it Ned! I dare you to ask Betty, that is if she’ll still talk to you.” Peter grinned at his friend and laughed when Ned threw a spork at him. Ned and Betty were in their usual weekly dispute, usually something dumb but slightly significant. 

“Are you just mad I have a girlfriend that gets mad at me?” Ned teased back. He did feel like he had the upper hand, being honest he always thought Peter would have all his firsts, well, first. But Ned was collecting the firsts while Peter kept to himself. 

Peter scoffed at the assumption, “No way man, If I was a boyfriend I would never pick a fight. I’d be a good boy and listen.” He hummed and shot his eyes to yours, you were already looking at him. 

“Right, Y/N?” He shot a wink at you and you froze, was that real? Was he actually talking to you? 

Peter Parker is beautiful. You’re not sure when you liked him, actually you think you always have. The second you met him you felt pulled to him, you couldn’t stay away from him. Subconsciously you walked the longer loop around the school to peek at him at his locker, and you always laughed at his jokes, and you made constant eye contact when you weren’t staring at his mouth. 

His brown curls laid over his forehead, you remember last week he was talking about getting it cut, and you frowned at him and said ‘absolutely not, if anything you should grow it longer’, you can’t help but notice it hasn’t been cut yet, and he is looking more tempting by the day. Maybe two more weeks and you could have an excuse to run your hand through it, tell him you noticed it was in his eyes and you were just helping. 

Even MJ knew, you think Ned and Betty have an inkling. When the four of you were together they loved to talk about Peter, except they would only praise him. He has the ultimate wingmen even if he didn’t know it. And speaking of not knowing, he had no clue you were into him. It’s not like you’ve been straightforward but you also didn’t hide it. You always made flirty comments towards him, and he would usually smile shyly and brush it off. 

“How did you think you did on Mr. Tusks test? I think I did fine.” He once asked during a passing period, you made a show of looking him up and down, “Oh trust me, you’re fine.” Peter rolled his eyes and then asked if you had heard about Kayte and Brendon. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Peter asked while you and the rest of the group met at his house for a study session before PSATS, looking over at you from his shoulder at the kitchen table. You stepped closer and grabbed his bicep, “Trust me, I’d do anything for you, Peter.” MJ let out a quiet ‘oooh’ and Peter flushed, he cleared his throat and held up some crumpled paper. “Can you throw these away for me, please?” 

You wrapped your hand around the paper in his and let your fingers rest against his palm for a moment, you looked in his eyes and pouted. “Aw, that’s all?” He looked at MJ for help, she instead looked at you and smirked with a slight nod to her head. You met her with a similar smirk and walked away to the trash can. 

Then that time at the movies you hopped around Ned to steal the spot next to Peter, “Dibs! If anyone is gonna get cuddly with Peter it’s gonna be me.” You pushed Ned’s shoulder to prove your seriousness when his jaw dropped open, he sputtered but then slunk to the seat next to you. Peter joked to ease the tension, “There’s enough of me to go around,” you looked at him and smiled, “but most of you is mine, right?” Peter went to respond but the lights dropped and the trailers started. 

You almost thought he made a move, almost. 

During the movie he lent into your ear, his warm breath sent goosebumps down your spine. “Hey.” You turned your head and almost stopped breathing, his face was right against yours, if he lent up half an inch your lips would meet. You wondered if this was the moment, all the flirting was for something. “Yeah?” You whispered back, you looked between his eyes and mouth, he caught you looking at his lips and watched you lean in a tad closer. “Can I get a sip of your slushie?” 

His grin was highlighted in the blue light of the theater screen. You grumbled and thrust the plastic cup at his chest, “Not how I imagined swapping spit with you in a movie theater, but I guess it will do.” Peter nodded absentmindedly while his attention was on the screen, and you might have maybe, just for a second, thought about punching him in the ribs. 

And right now he was asking you if he would be a good boyfriend. 

“Are you kidding me Parker? You’re the definition of boyfriend material.” You matched the grin he gave you and he shot a HA! At Ned. 

“Told you! And when I finally find a girlfriend I’m gonna be the best boyfriend.” He made a cocky grin at Ned that let him know he won the fight. Your ears were ringing, did he just say? He couldn't have. No way he’s that dumb. 

You slap your palms on the table and narrow your eyes at him, “What do you mean find a girlfriend?” 

“Oh! You know, when I finally have a chick that’s into me.” He shrugged, so casual. Did he think you were just playing around? 

“When you have a chick, into you.” You repeated the words slower and watched him nod his head and take a sip of chocolate milk. 

MJ hid her snort under a cough, you turned to look at her, silently saying ‘is he for real right now?’ and MJ gave a look back that said ‘oh i think he is.’ 

You kissed your teeth, “and tell me Peter, how the fuck would you know when a girl is into you?” 

His eyes widened for a second, “Uh, I dunno. I think if she likes me she’ll make it known.” 

You laughed dryly, “Or she can make it known and you’re just totally oblivious.” 

Peter thought for a moment and hummed, “No, I think I’d know.” 

You looked at MJ with a wide mouth.

“Okay. Fuck this, I’m out.” You grabbed your backpack off the table and stomped out the cafetera doors. 

“Did I say something to make her mad?” Peter missed the look MJ and Ned shared. 

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

Peter couldn’t help but feel guilty, he didn’t know what he did but he’s almost sure he made you upset. And he would normally never interfere with Spider-Man but he’s the one that saw you tossing pebbles and crushed cans at a brick wall down an alleyway. So he had to make sure you were okay, just doing his civilian duties. 

“Fucking stupid, oblivious, what does he want me to do? Fucking show up at his house naked?” You mumbled to yourself and kicked a cardboard box, sending it into the side of a dumpster. 

You heard something drop behind you, spinning to the sound you were met with the masked vigilante seen across the city. You had never seen him in person, not even a glimpse when you were walking around. You were starting to believe he was a figment of people's imagination.   

You narrowed your eyes, you didn’t know or care why he was there. 

“Fuck off, Spider-Man.” You turned to throw another rock at the wall and watch it bounce off, just like all your attempts with Peter. That frustrating prick. 

“Bad day?” 

He didn’t leave and he just brought a shit storm apun himself. 

You spun to face him again, “You have no idea.” 

“Tell me about it.” Maybe you would slip why you were pissed at lunch. 

You looked him up and down and tapped a finger on your chin, “Do you take hits?” 

“Like punches? I mean I try-” 

You cut him off, “No. I mean if I tell you to beat someone up would you do it?” 

Peter’s eyes widened in the mask, but then collected himself. 

“Maybe, it depends why you want them beaten up.” 

“Because he deserves pain.” You threw another rock. 

“Who’s he?” Peter had a feeling it was himself. 

You groaned and rubbed at your eyes, you paused to think of the story and decided to tell the whole thing to make sense. 

“Are you like a therapist or something?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like patient doctor confidentiality. I can tell you anything and no one knows?”

Peter thought to himself, he had never viewed himself that way but he sees how some may think of him like that. Just a random guy to dump their shit unto. 

“Sure, yeah. I won’t go screaming from the rooftops about your bad day with ‘he’.” He used air quotes around the ‘he’ and smiled when he made you laugh. 

“Alright, cool.” You nodded and paused after rubbing the bridge of your nose, then finally looking into the white masked eyes of Spider-Man.

“You brought this on yourself. Okay look, I’m new here right? Moved here from Manhattan, and got into this, like, super smart kid school.” You watched the masked face nod. 

“And I met this girl on my first day and she’s super cool and she tells me she’s gonna introduce me to her friends, and I was super excited to make friends, right?” You watched him to make sure he was listening, “And sorry for the next part, if you’re like a thirty year old guy just understand I am a horny teenager and you were once me, okay? Okay.” 

“So I met her friends, Ned and Peter. And let me tell you, Peter? Wow! Look, I’ll level with you. I’ve liked dudes before, maybe even kissed a few, who’s to know?” Peter froze for a moment, did you just hint at what he thinks? 

“But, Peter? I have literally never wanted to hump someone's face until I saw him.” 

Peter coughed then cleared his throat, his cheeks felt on fire. 

He knows you’ve always said things to him, he knows it was flirty but he didn’t realize you were being serious, cause he was him, and you were you. Peter never had that aha moment where he realized you were in fact flirting and did like him like that. He now wants to curl in shame because of the way he’s blown you off for so long, he doesn’t know why he thought you were always playing around with him, especially now. Because you only ever told Peter, you wanted Peter. 

Peter feels really dumb right now watching a girl he never thought he could pull, in distress because he is in fact, not pulling her. 

“I don’t know how to explain it but I felt so pulled to him, I hadn’t known him for twelve seconds and I wanted to know everything about him, you know? And I’ve tried everything, man. I don’t know how much more clear I can get, I mean I flirt with him all the time. Like, all the time. I literally told him I wanted to make out with him at the movies and he was just like… But can I get some of that slushie? I wanted to kill him and then myself.” 

You noticed the wide eyes on the mask but held up a hand to continue. 

“And today! My god I really thought he got it, get this, the fucker,” You exclaimed the fucker. “This fucker looks at me, dead in the eye and says ‘I’d be a good boyfriend right?’ and I was like ‘Oh my god, yes. You are literally perfection, look at you. So handsome, such baby, I will die if I don’t kiss you.’ And he goes, and I cannot make this shit up, ‘when I finally find a girlfriend I’ll be the best boyfriend.’” You mocked his voice, well not Peter’s, but a general man's voice. 

“Oh.” The first response you’ve heard from him yet. 

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, I’m not even at the part that made me fly off the wall.” 

Peter knows what you’re talking about. 

“At this point I just thought he was his normal little dumb self but when he said that? Game over. So I said, ‘how the fuck would you know when a girl is into you?’ just like that too, and he goes,” You paused to laugh again and shake your head, “‘I think if she likes me she’ll make it known.’ How fucking disconnected is he from reality? I wonder what it would be like to be in his head, really. Just a fuckton of open space huh? Anyways, I just told him that maybe she is making it known and he’s just not paying attention and he goes, ‘hmm, nope. I’d think I know.’ I couldn’t take it and just walked out.” 

You finished up your rant, “So, in conclusion. Fuck Peter Parker, but also, I want to fuck Peter Parker. It’s hard being 17.” 

For the first time Spider-Man was speechless. He didn’t know how to navigate this because he wanted to take your side but also didn’t want to throw Peter under the bus. When he noticed you were waiting for a response he let out a ‘Wow.’ 

“Well, wow.” He was still trying to find words. 

“I know right? I told you, you brought this on yourself.” You sat against the brick wall and pulled a quarter from your pocket running it across your knuckles. Spider-Man moved to sit next to you. 

“I know you say you’ve been forward but maybe he thinks you’re joking, or maybe he didn’t see it like that because he thought you wouldn’t like him like that.” 

“Babes, you have no idea how much I like him like that.” 

“Right. I mean, maybe give it another shot, you never know.” He shrugged his shoulders, who knows? Peter may even ask for a date next time you talk. 

“Oh, you think I’m giving up?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “No way, if anything this makes him even more attractive. Who doesn’t like a good chase? I will tell you my next method was just popping up at his place like, you, me, lets fuck, right here, right now.” 

“Chasing is only fun if you catch them in the end. And I doubt this Peter kid would ever give into that method, you’d scare the shit out of him.” You sighed and thought about it. “You’re right, he would respect me too much. It’s gross how much I love that.” You watched the quarter roll across your middle knuckle and held it tightly. 

You leaned a cheek against the hero’s shoulder. 

“Don’t beat up Peter Parker. He’s a sweet boy, just a little unaware.” 

“Although, if he doesn’t wake up to smell the bacon next time we talk I’m sending you a smoke signal and his address and I won’t let you leave until I see blood.” 

Peter let out a big laugh, “Deal.” 

You stood up and brushed off your butt then reached a hand out to help Spider-Man up. 

“Thanks for talking me off the ledge. Here’s a tip.” You tossed the quarter in your hand towards the red glove. 

Peter nodded and gave a two finger salute, “Just doing my job ma'am, I am the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man after all. I’ll look around for you, I hope I get a Peter update soon.” 

You smiled at the hero once more. 

“Me too.”

You watched as he took off and started to walk home, not even twenty minutes later a text came through. 

hey, sorry if i made you upset at lunch today. 

It's fine, I'm sure you’ll make it up to me. 

yeah, i’ll show you how sorry i can be.

And hell if your breath didn’t hitch. Did he just flirt with you? There is no way in God’s green earth did he just send a text like that not knowing how you’d take it. Did he finally wake up and smell the roses? Did the behavior at lunch kick in a thinking cell? 

Either way, you couldn’t wait for school tomorrow.

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

Walking in the doors you rubbed the palm of your hand over your cold nose, the temperature was slowly reminding you summer was over and the nips of frost and changing leaf colors proved it. You were excited for fall and winter, you would have friends to go to a halloween party with, maybe even get to wear a couples costume with Peter if it worked out for you. You would trickle into thanksgiving and then have a whole season for cookies, movies and snow fights. A part of you couldn’t help but think about Peter's eyes sparkling in the christmas lights. 

Peter’s head darted up at you the second you walked through the door, his teeth nibbling his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure what to say, or if he should say anything. Does he wait for you to say something? Does he walk up and ask you on a date?

Either way you were about to walk past him, you looked preoccupied, in your own world. You were nibbling on your thumb nail, lost in your thoughts about Peter, and the weather, and Peter, and snow, and carving pumpkins with Peter, and the way leaves would crunch under your feet, and then floated to central park and walking hand in hand with Peter, and kissing Peter under a tree, or maybe he’d take you to rockefeller plaza and ask you to be his girlfriend there, and you just know in your heart Peter would always give you extra whipped cream on your hot chocolate. 

You were so lost in thinking about Peter you didn’t see Peter. 

Not until he jumped in front of you. 

“Hey!” He smiled and it made your eyes go hazy. 

“Peter.” You let out dreamily, still stuck in daydreams where he was yours.

“Whatcha thinking about?” His grin gave away he knew, but you know he didn’t.

“Would you give me extra whipped cream on hot chocolate?” 

“Oh yeah. I’d even throw in some mini marshmallows and a cinnamon stick. Or do you like peppermint more?” 

You fawned at his response, he was so gentle it warmed you. 

“Would you carve pumpkins with me?” You looked at his locker. 

“Why not? Seems fun.” He tapped his fist against your shoulder.

“I would need your help, cause I’m good at getting the guts out but the actual carving part hurts my hand because I have to use so much force. So I could draw a design and you could cut it for me, cause you're way stronger than me.” 

“Why are you good at getting the guts out?” He poked a finger at your elbow to get your attention back on his face. 

You bit your bottom lip and changed topics. 

“Have you ever walked through central park?” 

I mean, if Peter thinks about it he’s spent a fair amount of time there, but he’s not roaming around. He’s swinging around or stopping crime or running after someone, so he guesses not. He’s never walked through the park and enjoyed it, he thinks he did it a few times as a kid but he can’t remember the last time he went. 

“As a kid, I haven’t been in a while.” 

“I think it would be really pretty to walk through it when the leaves all change.” 

“I love the feeling of the leaves crunching under my feet.” 

“Me too! As a kid I used to build leaf forts and just roll around for hours.” You smiled brightly at the shared feeling. 

“We could go sometime, just say when. We could even get the group together.” He winked playfully but dropped the grin when he saw the disappointment flash in your eyes when he added the friends part. You didn’t want a group trip, you wanted a Peter trip. 

“Or it could be just a you and me thing, I think I could use some one on one time with you.” Peter retracted his earlier statement. Your eyes lit up at his suggestion, “really? You do?” 

“Yeah, of course. I love talking to you.” He smiled and watched you bite your bottom lip as you stared at his. 

“Anything fun happen yesterday? I didn’t see you after lunch.” Was he possibly hinting at you talking about him to him? Yes. 

“Uh,” You trailed and thought about telling him, scared if you said too much he’d ask details. 

“You know, I started to believe Spider-Man was a mass hallucination, turns out he’s a real guy. Kinda cool.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “You suddenly came to that belief yesterday?” 

“Well I mean, you know. He was like, there. And was like, hey.” You gave a general response and shrugged your shoulders. 

“He was just there and said hey?” He slowly repeated the words back. 

“Hey! He promised he wouldn’t talk about what we discussed and I will promise the same. We had a nice conversation about someone close to me and he gave me a little pep talk.” You defended your stance. 

“Like patient doctor confidentiality?” He was having a little fun here. 

“Exactly! It was true alleyway therapy. I even gave him a quarter for his troubles.” You crossed your arms and grinned, it was funny how good you felt after talking to him yesterday. Maybe exploding emotions on a third party stranger was good. 

“Sounds like you have a crush on Spidey.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “If he was here right now, and heard that coming from your mouth? He would have a fucking field day, I promise you that.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows in coyness. 

“From me? Sounds like he knows something, was I maybe the close person you had a conversation about?” 

Your cheeks felt warm, you were on the spot. You always hinted at your crush on Peter but you were kind of pussy to outright say it so you hoped he would catch on and ask you out. But now you didn’t know how to react, you had said too much and backed yourself into a corner. 

You opened your mouth to play off a response when the bell for first period rang out, you let out a breath of relief and smiled at Peter. 

“Saved by the bell.” 

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

You were begging Spider-Man was out, looking around where he had dropped down yesterday. 

Things have progressed with Peter and you promised him an update, it was just about keeping him in the loop. It had nothing to do with getting to fantasize and romanticize you and Peter’s interactions. 

Jumping in excitement you saw him standing on the corner of the same building you were hiding behind yesterday, hands on his hips with his head turned the opposite way. 

“Spider-Man!” You whisper shouted. 

“Hey! Spidey!” You raised your tone some. 

“Yo! Spider-boy!” You picked up a pebble and threw it up the building. 

Getting his attention the hero looked behind him then pointed at himself with a thumb, “me?” You rolled your eyes, “yes, you. C’mere.” Watching him jump down and land in a squatted pose you couldn’t help but think about how fucked up your ankles would’ve been if you tried it. 

“Peter update, bitch. I don’t have another quarter on me, so this will have to be on the house.” 

“I kept it.” He handed it back to you and you thought about how if Peter did that you would be putty in your shoes. 

“I think he was flirting with me. I think. I don’t know, he’s so coy. I love him.” You sighed and held a hand to your heart. 

“And I am so sadistic, I’m using him as a pawn in my sick games. I’m asking him questions that I’ve already answered in my head about him and when he gives me a response it’s better than I imagined.” 

“Maybe he was flirting, or trying. Something tells me you make him nervous.” 

“Am I intimidating? I don’t want him scared of me, I want to mash my parts with his.” You pouted and thought if you were making him uncomfortable. 

“First, gross.” (Not really, he also wants to mash parts.) 

“Second, I don’t think you’re intimidating. I just think you are much more forward than him.” 

“Oh no. Is that a problem? Do I keep doing what I am, or should I let him do this? Am I over stepping? I’ve never had a boyfriend, is he supposed to pursue me? Have I done everything backwards? Oh god.” You covered your face with your hands and missed Peter's eyes growing wide and his panicked arm movements. 

“No, no, no, no. You’re fine, you’re good. It’s good. You can make the first move, totally okay. I just meant you’re expecting him to ask you out any second and I think you need to make it more noticeable rather than joking.” 

“Ew! Gross! I will not walk up to that man and tell him I wanna smooch.” 

“Oh, C’mon! You basically already have!” 

“Nope. Not happening. You’ve helped me make up my mind, I will wait for Peter Parker to make the next move.” You tossed the quarter back to him, “Don’t worry. You’ll see me again.” 

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

“Woah, wait.” MJ stopped in her tracks and spoke her next words carefully. 

“You told Spider-Man about your crush on Peter?” Her voice was smooth and quick, MJ almost felt panicked for you, because you didn’t know what you just did. 

“Yeah?” You didn’t get the big deal, not like Spider-Man knew who Peter was anyways. 

“What did he say?” MJ was pulling at the thread.

“That I should be more clear, or less intimidating, or something.” 

“He said you were intimidating?” MJ narrowed her eyes. 

“Well kind of, when I said that he kind of back tracked but-” 

MJ cut you off when he locked eyes with Peter coming down the hall towards you, he tilted his head in question, he knew that look and he wasn’t sure why he deserved it. She grabbed Peter’s forearm and tugged him next to her, your eyes went wide. You didn’t need to understand why MJ decided to bring Peter into this conversation, you just needed to end it. 

“Peter, do you think Y/N is intimidating?”  

His eyes saw your subtle head shake at her, an unvocal way of telling her to shut the fuck up. 

“Uh, no. Not at all. Why?” 

MJ waited for you to talk but you stayed silent, you would definitely spill if you tried to navigate the conversation. 

“Because, the Queens nightly hero thinks she is.” Her tone was bitter, who knew MJ was this defensive over you. 

“He said I was too forward, MJ. Drop it.” You pleaded to get out of this alive. 

“Too forward, imagine that, Peter. Imagine confiding in someone about a crush and they say you’re too forward.” 

You felt your knees hit your ankles, Peter would connect the dots. You told him you had a conversation and MJ just admitted it was about a crush. 

You started to dryly laugh, not allowing Peter a chance to answer that. 

“Not a crush! Nope! Don’t know where you got that theory.” You darted your eyes around looking for an escape. 

“No?” Peter questioned you. 

“You know MJ, she lives in her own world. Never said anything about having a crush on someone, definitely not you.” 

Peter had to play into this, your turn to squirm. 

“Who said I thought you had a crush on me?” 

Your heart couldn’t beat any louder than it was at the moment. 

“No one did.” You flashed a nervous smile. 

“No, I think you just did.” 

You breathed heavily out your nose and looked harshly at MJ like ‘wtf? Why did you do this?’ 

“I just didn’t want you to think I have a crush on you.” 

Peter pouted, “Why not? I think it would be cute.” 

It was your turn to sputter. 

“Cute? It would be cute? Cute how? Cute, that's adorable or cute, let's date?” 

You didn’t miss MJ’s look of ‘wow. Subtle much?’ 

“Depends. Do you have a crush on me?” 

“Do you think I have a crush on you?” 

Peter hummed and pretended to think. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Only sometimes?” 

“I’m confused. Do you want me to think you have a crush on me or not?” 

MJ raised her hands and slowly started to back away. 

“Depends. How would you react?” You cautioned. 

“Probably how you want me to react.” 

“And how do I want you to react?” 

Peter smiled and leaned in close, you held your breath for a moment. Was he about to kiss you? Is that how you want him to react? Yes. 

“You tell me.” 

Then he straightened himself and winked as he walked away. 

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

Peter just had to wait for an opening, not that you would take long to give him one. You couldn’t keep it in, it was second nature at this point.

If there was any way he could ask you out casually then you needed to make it a bit clear, as much as you said you wanted it he couldn’t imagine the flip of “he doesn’t notice anything” to “hey, wanna go out?” 

 Peter was trying to set himself up for one of your comments and you tried your best to keep a poker face but when he said that? Game over. 

“I think I have a shot, she totally likes me.” 

Was he talking about you? He better be, because if you were walking into his house for the regular Friday movie night and he was talking about another girl you would actually lose it. You had just got there, still waiting for MJ and Ned to show up when he greeted you with his words. 

“Who likes you?” 

“Kendra! During math she was holding up her highlighters trying to match one to my shirt. It’s pretty obvious right?” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No. You can’t be serious.” 

“I am! I told you if someone liked me they would make it obvious, and I’m pretty sure she did.” 

“Oh fuck you Peter! You’re the actual worst, I sit here all fucking day saying things to you, about literally wanting to be all over you and a girl with a fucking highlighter collection is booted to top of the list?” 

“I mean, what am I? Chopped liver? I have been pining after you for months, and all it took was a highlighter? Do you know I wear that green sweater all the time because you said you liked it once, or that I follow you around like a puppy? How about when I flirt with you, or do you even know I’m flirting with you?” 

Peter had a shit eating grin that made you even more upset. 

“Why are you so happy right now, you’re really pissing me off.” 

Peter stalked towards you until you were backed up into the wall, with nowhere to go you felt his chest brush yours, his arms caging you against the wall, your head between both of his hands. 

Save for the position, you were excited. This was going to be a new daydream scenario, he had you pinned to the wall. The only way out was through him. 

He leant in close, if you just pushed yourself up you could have his lips on yours. 

“Because, you finally admitted it.” 

You narrowed your gaze at him. 

“What is that supp-” 

He cut you off. 

With his mouth. 

On yours. 

No matter how many times you dreamed about this exact moment nothing could match the real thing. His lips were soft, his hand cupped your jaw to bring you closer to him. His body leaned in so he was flush against yours, you felt every curve and divot of him blend into yours. You grabbed at the waist of his shirt, begging for him not to leave his position of being on your mouth. 

Instead he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, the feather touch of his tongue on your lower lip sent your head into a spiral, the boy you had been obsessing and pining over the past few months was moving with your movements, you gasped into his mouth and he squeezed a hip with his hand and you in turn pressed your hips into his. 

He pulled away and placed a kiss to your jaw, then neck. 

“Was that the reaction you wanted?” 

Your eyes stayed closed but you nodded, scared if you opened them the illusion would disappear. 

“I kissed you with my heart and soul baby girl, can’t a guy get a response?” 

You whimpered at the pet name. 

Then a knock at the door, the curtain dropped. The other friends were here and it would go back to pretend this didn’t happen for a few hours. The front door was being opened from the outside, you had your head turned to the right to watch it open. Peter still had you pressed into the wall, he placed an arm out to hold the door shut. 

“I’m not done yet.” 

He leant in for another one, and another. 

And another. 

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

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me.” 

You did promise Spider-Man an update, but it’s been a busy few months. Christmas was just around the corner and Peter and you have been busy. Between dates and seasonal activities you haven’t had a moment to track down the hero and catch him up to date. 

First it was Halloween and you did get your couples costume. (and he helped you carve your pumpkin.)

 Then it was Thanksgiving. (and he walked through central park with you.)

And recently you’ve both been busy with present shopping and baking. (and he gives you hot chocolate with extra, extra whipped cream.)

 “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been too busy being a girlfriend.” 

“Girlfriend?” 

You squealed. “Yes! He totally set me up and I was all like, ‘How do you not know I like you?’ and BAM! He just started kissing me, I was seeing fucking stars.” 

“Peter Parker finally smelled the bacon, huh?” 

“Yeah. He’s really awesome. I know we were friends before but it’s gotten so much better now he’s my boyfriend, I don’t even know how to describe it. I think it’s because everything I feel for him is reciprocated times ten by him.” 

“I think it’s because you love him.” 

“Or because we’re mashing parts.” 

You laughed at his reaction. 

“Gross.” (Not gross. He fucking loves mashing parts.)

“But yeah, I think it’s mostly because we love each other.” 

“I’m happy for you, I’m glad I can stop looking for smoke signals now.” 

You grinned at the hero and had to fight back the urge for a hug. 

“Thanks, if it makes you feel better if I knew who you were under the mask I’d buy you dinner.” 

Sirens blaring broke the reunion. 

“It’s alright. I have a feeling you’ll know soon.” 

“Hm, sure. Have a goodnight, Spidey. I’ll see you around.” 

“You too, Y/N.” 

Then he swung off, it left a grin on your face. 

Until. 

‘How did he know my name?’ 

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker mcu #my writing

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it. 

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add. 

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it. 

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic. 

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob. 

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself. 

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions. 

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse. 

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride. 

If only it was that easy to fool himself. 

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?” 

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest. 

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it. 

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings. 

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t. 

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation. 

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party. 

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere. 

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here. 

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I  should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation. 

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him. 

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt. 

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back. 

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

--

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[saerins]

─── 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 6k | content: mostly fluff, some angst, rin is so awkward, childhood friends to lovers

notes: my first time writing something for rin so i’m nervous but i hope you guys like it <3 pls i hope i didn’t butcher him >_< rbs & feedback appreciated muwah !

summary: rin thinks about you all the time, for better or for worse. problem is, he really shouldn’t be anymore. things never seem to work out for the both of you, will trying even make a difference this time?

rin knows you don’t like flowers. no wait, you like them, you just don’t like receiving them. you cried once, when the flower he plucked for you died within a few days in your makeshift vase.

rin also knows that while other girls dream of their dream wedding, you dream of a nice cosy house, a modern one with touches of japanese accents. he likes to hear you talk about it. he likes to hear you talk about anything at all, actually.

he’s known you ever since you were both little, since you were both five and just two kids in the playground playing hide and seek.

rin would always win, because you’re as clumsy as it gets and you’re not that observant. you could never find him, even if he’s right there. he likes it though; seeing you look for him, that little panicky look in your eyes when you think he’d ever actually abandon you and run off.

he played with you whenever he could—you were both neighbours after all. it was fun, being with you was fun.

you reminded him of new beginnings, like how it feels like jumping into a pool after a long hard day of training, or how the sun feels like hitting your skin on a cold winter day.

it was second nature for him—to seek you out whenever he had a hard time, to look for you when he needed a distraction, to search for you in the crowd to seek some familiarity.

but it’s easy for flimsy things to break. the both of you were just kids, and kids did childish things, like think only for the moment and not further into the future, did silly things like saying you’d marry one another with fake paper rings and forget it the very next day (rin remembers). kids also handle things in a bad way, in the way that leaves no room for the friend they pushed away.

if rin regrets anything from his past, it’s that he took sae’s departure out on you.

rin doesn’t know how to process things well. can’t decide why exactly he’s so pressed about sae’s choice of words. doesn’t know what to make of why he even plays soccer. is it just because of his brother?

he doesn’t fucking know.

rin’s sorry.

it isn’t your fault his brother found a different path. you had nothing to do with it. you and those brownies you cooked for him. he’s sorry that he let them fall to the ground and just stormed off.

that was what, three or four years ago? you’d moved out by then, and the both of you had never spoken since.

if he’s being honest, he misses your presence. maybe it’s the fact that you were his manifestation of a safety net, someone that he could fall back on, someone he could lean on.

maybe he’s just being an asshole.

now he’s seventeen and probably even more of an asshole. if anything, sae’s departure left a bitter taste in his mouth that he wasn’t able to cleanse.

but he’s lucky you’re you. you’re you and that means you don’t hold grudges and you’re still the kindest person he’s ever known.

“rin?”

he stops his hand in mid motion, the key between his fingers dropping onto the wooden floorboards below. rin can’t seem to function anymore—he knows that voice. all too well.

it’s the voice that made him excited as a kid, it’s the same voice that comforted him whenever he fell short of perfect, the same voice that haunts his dreams sometimes at night, even now.

rin turns around and sees you there, at his front porch, smiling all awkwardly and chuckling nervously, your hands in your pocket because you never know what to do with them when you’re uncomfortable.

“hi,” is all he manages to choke out because he’s still a little stunned and his key is long lost and forgotten on the ground.

“hey stranger,” you grin, and his heart beats faster and faster as you get closer and closer.

the both of you are no longer kids, and it’s so painfully obvious now in front of him. he can’t stop fucking staring even if his inner voice is screaming at him to.

“i thought you moved away,” rin manages to say, and because he’s really curious as to why you’re even here, in this place you’re not supposed to be, talking to someone you haven’t spoken to in years.

“i’m, uh, here just to visit my family,” you stutter out, and rin wants to call you out on it so bad, but he can’t do that without exposing himself.

how could he possibly tell you that he knows none of your family is left here in the neighbourhood because he’s asked everyone who used to be in contact with your family? how can he possibly say that without exposing himself for going through your social profiles just to find out that you’ve moved out to another city with your entire family?

so, what are you here for then?

“hey, you wanna, uh, go eat dinner together? or something? later?” you’re so awkward rin could die. rin’s so awkward he could just kill himself.

the silence is deafening and it’s not that he doesn’t want to have dinner with you, it’s just that he has soccer training in the evening and he’s still in shock from the fact that you’re here in the flesh and—

“it’s okay, forget i asked, i was just—”

“no, i mean,” rin trips over his own words and the two of you are just two stupid idiots standing on the itoshi family’s porch doing stupid idiot things. he takes a deep breath, “where should we eat?”

that smile you shoot him is deadly and he wants to keep it forever. if that’s even possible. but he’s really awkward with his feelings and he doesn’t even know what he feels for you. all he knows is that he wants you to stay here again, be within reach for him.

“pick me up at six on your bike?” you nod over to his bicycle, and he blushes so hard because despite getting countless valentines from other girls, none of them have the same effect on him as you do.

rin thinks he should shake his head and say no and pretend like you don’t exist again. he shouldn’t go on this pseudo date with you.

yet he does. he picks you up where you said you’d be, at a hotel near the heart of the city. he’s on his bicycle, just like you asked of him, and you definitely dressed for the ride, comfortable in shorts and a tank top. you’ve gotten from cute to so so pretty and rin finds it so damn difficult to tear his eyes away from you.

when you get on the back of his bicycle, you put your hands around his waist and he can actually feel how fast your heart is beating. rin’s is too, but he’s grateful you probably can’t tell.

also at your request, he takes you to a spot he chose—which is nothing extravagant because you’re both still broke students who haven’t earned your own money, but he thinks you’ll like it anyway.

after getting some cup noodles from a nearby convenience store, he pedals over to the playground the both of you used to spend ages at when you were kids. the place where you used to play hide and seek with each other.

it’s a place of significance. at least, to him. he wonders if you even remember this place.

“nice choice, itoshi rin,” you say, and rin has his answer. “i missed this place.”

and rin missed you, but he isn’t going to say that.

“i’m surprised you remember,” he tells you, choosing to sit down on the swings. you follow and sit on the only other one beside him, your cup noodle hot and ready in your hands. “how’s kyushu?”

you slurp up some of your noodles, and rin thinks you look beautiful just like this anyway. “it’s okay, made some friends so that makes it more tolerable.” you’re shrugging like it’s no big deal, but he can tell by the faraway look in your eyes that there’s more to it.

“tokyo’s better, huh?” he isn’t much for small talk, but he can’t help himself—it’s been far too long without you, and he wants to feel close to you again. it’s as though after everything that happened—sae moving abroad, you moving away, rin feeling lost—it’s like he doesn’t really know how to be your friend anymore.

nodding your head, you turn to him. “much better.”

and rin can’t help but think that there’s a deeper meaning to your answer. but he doesn’t press.

maybe he should’ve, because when you switch the topic, he finds he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

“anyway, i’m only here for a day,” you tell him, going back to your noodles. “i fly back tomorrow.”

some part of him wants to ask you why you’re even here. he wants to know about the you now, about how much has changed in these few years, what you like now—do you still like hot chocolate in the winter, do you still get colds easily, do you still think about him after all this time?

“are you… going to come back for college?” because if you still wanted to go to university in tokyo, you’d have to move back here. rin thinks he’d like that.

you’re a little taken aback because from what you’d heard from your old friends, rin had become someone they barely recognised; cold, blunt, more like his brother than himself. but in front of you now, you feel like the rin you know is still in there.

but this is where it gets hard.

“actually…” you trail off because you don’t really know where to start. “i got into a university in america. my mother got a job there and she wants me to go with her.”

you don’t even want to look at him right now. you don’t really know what you want to see. some silly part of you wants to see that he minds, that he’ll make a big deal out of you going away somewhere even further than the other side of japan. but if he doesn’t, if he looks like it doesn’t affect him at all, then you don’t think you can handle that.

“oh.” ever the best at giving a non-response, you’re not surprised.

it’s silent for a while, and the two of you are just eating your noodles, and it’s so suffocating that you want to bolt and run but that means you probably won’t ever get to see rin again and you don’t want that.

your body is screaming at you to do something, to say anything, to savour whatever time you have left with rin now properly—but you can’t.

beside you, the gears are turning in his head. rin’s noodles are already gone and he isn’t even aware his chopsticks are grappling around for nothing but soup.

america? that’ll mean you’re at least twelve hours away and he can’t even imagine what that’ll mean for your friendship. or whatever the fuck this muddy waters is.

rin wants to say something, anything—but what? don’t go? when are you coming back? are we ever going to be at the same place at the same time again after tonight?

he’s conflicted between his possible feelings and his selfishness. so he resigns to not saying anything at all. all that’s left for the night is hearing the wind blowing past your faces and the creaking of the swings, very much like how he envisioned a bad goodbye to go.

that night he gives you a ride back to your hotel despite your insistence that it’s late. because who do you take him for? did it mean nothing to you that this might be the last time?

“so, uh, i’ll see you around, i guess,” you say as you step off of his bicycle, after a trip that seems way too fast. rin already misses the sensation of your arms around his waist.

he thinks it’s a stupid sentence. realistically, in every single way he can think it’ll play out, it ends with the both of you drifting apart anyway, and he finds himself wishing you never came back.

which is untrue. which is the furthest it could possibly be from the truth. but rin doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“okay then, goodbye,” rin decides, because he’s not about to get his own hopes up for nothing. if you’re about to vanish, then maybe it’s high time he gets it done.

rin steps on the pedal, but then you stop him, voice clear as the first day he met you. “rin, wait!”

you’re not sure why it slipped out, but it did.

“what is it?”

his eyes are cool, calm, a dead teal that stares right through you. you’re almost intimidated because you’re not sure just what he’s thinking of you right now. he must think you’re a freak, showing up like this and dropping a bomb that he may or may not care about.

“um, nothing, it’s just- is there anything else?”

some part of you wants him to ask you to stay in tokyo. maybe the both of you could find a university together and stay in close proximity, just like when you were kids, just like how you liked it.

just like everything you missed.

and now the two of you are staring at each other, knowing yet not knowing everything that’s going through one another’s mind. but it gets lost in translation because neither of you can find the words to say.

rin blinks at you, and you can’t even read him if you tried. “no, nothing. is there something you wanna say?”

you shake your head, smiling through it. “no, nothing. goodbye.”

you’re back through the hotel double doors before you know it, and rin’s left to watch your silhouette fade away.

for the first time in his life, he feels like he’s lost something precious that he’ll never find again.

life goes on.

rin graduates from high school and so do you. the texting stopped, and that much he expected. better to cut the cord sooner rather than later, even if rin wished for otherwise.

he rides on a full scholarship to university, and from the online grapevines, he hears that you’re doing the same. you’re smart, so he’s not surprised.

this is the right thing to do; both of you have your own lives to concentrate on. some stupid crush doesn’t matter. and yes, rin has already conceded to the feeling because he can’t explain this any other way.

his frustration that comes from your separation, his anger when it comes to being helpless, his endless regret from not saying anything that night—it’s only because he wants you.

“i hear y/n’s doing good at her new school,” rin hears his mom cooing from the kitchen. he sighs. of course she did, yours and his moms are both close. yet another channel through which he can get updates on you, warranted or not.

“yeah?” he pretends not to care much, but he’s hanging on her every word.

“yeah, it’s valentines’ day around the corner too, i hear she has lots of guys lining up.”

kill him. kill him right fucking now.

“good for her.” good for you he’s not there to stare daggers at all the guys ogling at you. good for you he’s not there to commit bloody murder.

“i think so too, ah she’s all grown up,” his mother chatters on, completely oblivious to the torment she’s subjecting her son to. “i hear she’s having her first date next week, i heard he’s a model too, did she talk to you about it?”

you must’ve played it off to your mother that you and rin are fine. rin sighs, tired of the thoughts running through his head. as if soccer wasn’t tiring enough already.

“don’t know, maybe.”

just like his feelings for you, and his willingness to act on it.

two years into university and it isn’t that hard for him anymore.

actual lectures and assignments take up half of his time, and the other half is reserved for soccer. with teammates like isagi yoichi and bachira meguru annoying him even outside of practice, rin doesn’t even have much time to think of you.

until he’s forced to.

“what about you, rin? is there anyone special in your life?”

bachira tuts, “isagi, he’s always buried in books and practicing soccer, it’s obviously a no.”

rin’s annoyed, half because what bachira said is true and half because isagi made him think of you. it’s been a while since he knew what was up with you. you’re probably doing well, probably thriving in that environment, probably all in love with your boyfriend—that stupid yukimiya kenyu that you accepted for valentine’s last year.

he carefully extracts himself from isagi and bachira’s bickering, feigning that he’s looking through the aisle for books except what he’s really doing is scrolling through his phone and hunting for your profile.

what other way is he supposed to get updates? definitely not from you, because you’ve been so fucking radio silent since that night.

all that rin sees that day is a story posted to your account. just a backdrop of the view in your city with the words some things just aren’t meant to be.

you’re right. some things aren’t. including the both of you. so rin tucks his phone away in his pocket and goes about his day, half happy that it sounds like you’re not with yukimiya anymore, half concerned that this is what the both of you became.

somehow he’s here. he’s right fucking here and it’s him this time that’s going to surprise you. unintentionally. or intentionally, if you argued that he agreed to come in the first place.

“isn’t this place so beautiful?” his mother’s words are lost on him. he’s too busy thinking of you.

his mother’s here to visit your mother and by extension he guesses you’ll be there. it’s supposedly the summer break anyway.

and you really are there, on your front porch this time, freezing up when you catch sight of rin walking up your driveway.

nothing can describe his relief when you actually walk up to him and talk to him, because a part of him was expecting you to slap him for some reason.

“still watching horror movies for fun?” you ask him when you’re finally alone together, away from the ruckus of both your moms.

you missed him, he and his teal eyes and his absurdly longer fringe and his awkward demeanour. he’s a long shot from the person you knew as a kid. he’s taller, more muscles, more stoic, handsome. you were too shy to look at him properly that night in tokyo, but you can now.

“i don’t really have time for fun.” rin turns away, a little horrified you remember as much about him as you do. you’d been asking him things you remember from back when you guys were five. “how’re things here?”

you hum in contemplation, like you’re considering your words, and rin looks at you this time, admiring the way you look in the sunlight, the smile stuck onto your face, the voice that he’d never get tired of.

“it’s fine, school’s great, boyfriend’s great, everything’s… great.”

boyfriend?

“that yukimiya guy?”

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. he didn’t mean to say that. fuck. you’re gonna know he stalked you. he doesn’t even fucking follow you, he has no good excuse for knowing that.

you blink once, twice, confused and then getting bashful from the realisation. “um, yeah. things were rocky at first and then it got better so…”

rin is internally strangling himself. he needs to stop having thoughts about a taken girl. he needs to stop wondering what you taste like, what you look like in the mornings when you just wake up, what you’d sound like when you’re sleepy.

“that’s… good.”

the two of you are awkward to bits and he wishes he was someone different right now.

the day ends with nothing substantial. rin couldn’t talk much after he hears you’re still with yukimiya. you couldn’t even stay much because you had plans with him anyway. who’s he to stand in your way? rin’s just an old friend from the past. that’s all. there’s nothing more.

that’s what he thinks. until that same night when he’s all packed and ready to go for the next afternoon’s flight. all because you called him out of the blue. he’s amazed you still have his number.

“hey, rin.”

from the first moment you opened your mouth, he can tell you’re crying. shit, why are you crying?

“are you okay?” because you’re probably the only person in the world who can tug on his heartstrings like this. for being the only person in this world he has feelings for.

you’re forcing a laugh, like you’re not sure what to say. rin doesn’t really know either.

“am i not worth anything?” your question takes him off guard.

doesn’t take a genius to know something probably happened between you and yukimiya. and it doesn’t take much for you to get rin bolting out the door.

“where are you?”

“home,” you sniffle, and you must hear him getting into a cab, “i’m fine, you don’t have to come—”

“i’m coming,” he tells you, firmly, and he can almost tell you’re smiling from the other side of the line.

rin’s heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins. he’s not sure why, but he’s ached to get closer to you since forever, and he passed it up the last time, the previous time you met in tokyo.

his heart’s still racing when you let him into the house, when it’s all dark and unfamiliar and you’re so close to him he can smell the shampoo off your hair.

apparently yukimiya never got over his first love, and you’d caught him locked in a kiss with her right before your dinner.

he’s not good with these situations. at comforting people, at being so close to the girl he likes that he’s trying his very best not to fucking kiss her right now. how does he tell you that you’re good enough, right now, when you keep rambling on and on about how you think you’re not? he really wants to shut you up but he can only think of kissing you and maybe that’s not a can of worms you want to open right now.

besides, if he does that, you might look at him as something temporary, a crutch you need right now but not for the long run and call him crazy but if he’s going to try this much for you, he doesn’t want to be the rebound.

but god fucking damn it, he’ll kill himself if he chickens out now.

you fall asleep after crying your guts out, and rin’s barely said ten words to you all night. he carries you to your room, puts you down on your bed and he resists placing a kiss on your forehead even if you won’t know it.

there’s no time left here for him, he’ll have to go back home tomorrow afternoon and you’ll be worlds apart once again. tonight may have been just a fluke; you probably just needed someone and rin was a safe bet.

he writes something down on a rough paper sitting on your desk and leaves it there before he goes. it’s irritating, how much you’re making him think, how much you’re making him flip flop between various moods.

one moment he decides to leave you alone and the next moment he doesn’t want to leave your side. there’s just something about seeing you so heartbroken that he can’t forgive.

and how kind the world is, to serve the guy who broke your heart to rin in a silver platter. he’d recognise that hair and those glasses anywhere—yukimiya kenyu.

“who’re you?”

rin doesn’t respond, only pushes him away. “if you know what’s good for you, leave.”

“what are you talking about?”

“i know what you did to y/n.”

yukimiya sighs, “look that’s what i wanted to talk to y/n about. i wanted to do this properly, to talk it out with her properly but then my ex was the one who—”

“shut the fuck up, i don’t care.”

yukimiya looks like he wants to retaliate, like he wants to argue back, and it would’ve probably turned into an all-out brawl if your mother didn’t rush out of the house at just the right time.

rin doesn’t bother with anything else after that. he leaves even though your mother tells him he can stay. frankly, he’s not sure he can stand being in the same room as yukimiya without giving him a punch.

the next morning comes and you haven’t left any messages. rin’s already back in japan for a while when you decide you’re finally ready to call him. but he’s heartbroken from thinking he was stupid to leave you that note so he rarely pays attention to his phone.

you end up having to leave it on his voicemail instead.

you said to call you if i wanted to try and… i do.

whatever yukimiya had come to say to you that night, it probably didn’t work, because rin does hear your voicemail. he hears your voice saying that you want to try, with him, and he thinks he may have been dreaming for a while.

but then he plays it over and over and over again.

he’s a few years late, but better late than never, he thinks.

you have two more years before you get your degree, and rin’s not about to get in between that. what he does do is pay you a visit from time to time because he hates this goddamn physical distance between the both of you.

it starts with the both of you talking to each other over the phone, the painfully awkward conversations turning more and more bearable. after a while, you’re the one getting him out of his shell, purposely teasing him all the time, getting reactions out of him.

he stays over at your apartment near school whenever he visits. you share the same bed for the first time and somehow it’s not uncomfortable. he lays beside you like he’s meant to be there. and you fall asleep so fast whenever he’s there, like he’s your damn lullaby.

distance starts to feel like nothing for the both of you, because it never wanes your feelings. even when he’s in japan and you’re halfway across the world, it doesn’t feel like you’re very far.

besides, he likes how it is—you chase your dreams, he chases his. the future can wait. the uncertainties can come later.

they come faster than he bargained for.

you’re nearing graduation while he’s nearing the end of his current contract term with a japanese club, but you’ve scored a job with one of the hottest startups in america. which means you’re going to be there.

for a long while.

“take it,” rin tells you, because you’ve called him to tell him this because you don’t know if you want to. but he can tell, like he always can when it comes to you. you want to take it, and he’s the only factor that’s stopping you. because before now, you’ve been thinking of coming back to tokyo and working at one of the bigger firms here.

looks like that plan’s not going to pan out though, because rin will kill himself before he becomes the reason that you’re not being the best version of yourself.

“but that means…”

there you go, hesitating again.

“we’ll figure it out. we did it once before, we’ll do it again.”

you chuckle in relief because somehow, itoshi rin has become your rock. he went from being some stoic and inexpressive human to being your voice of reason.

“you’re right, you’re right,” you concede. because yes, he’s always right somehow.

so you accept the offer, signing yourself away for another five years.

“what does that mean for the both of you though?”

you sigh. you’re not sure. rin hasn’t said much beyond what he did during that phone call nearly a year back, and he hasn’t come to visit for a few months now so you can’t really tell what’s going on in his head.

long distance sucks.

“i don’t know, mom,” you confess, “i don’t want this to be the end. but i can’t see a future where the both of us are always in different countries.”

your mother doesn’t say anything much after that, it’s not like she has any personal experience on the matter.

you think about it all throughout your finals period, all throughout your graduation transition. you’re not sure that you and rin can just make it through this by just winging it like how you’d always been. and you think maybe rin is just full of it, maybe he’s just as much in denial about this as you are. he hasn’t even been texting you as much nowadays, not after the news.

your phone vibrates on your table as you’re idly staring out the window. it’s a week to graduation.

a text from rin.

meet me after your ceremony next week, we need to talk.

and the anxiety kicks in.

rin shows up at your graduation ceremony like he said he would. he dresses up nicely, white dress shirt and black pants—simple, classy, handsome. you can spot him even from where you are, up near the stage.

yeah, you’d been nervous ever since he sent you that text.

it didn’t help that he didn’t talk to you much up until today, when his flight landed and he’d told you about it even though he knows you have his flight details in your handy little app.

when you run over to him after the ceremony, you find quite a funny sight before your eyes. never in your life did you think you’d ever see rin looking sharp as ever in a white shirt and pants only to be carrying what looks like a bouquet of—not flowers but—nuggets on sticks and chocolate.

rin smiles sheepishly when you get to him. “you don’t want flowers right?”

yeah, you’re in love with him. dorky, stupid rin with his abstract ways of showing love. you love how he remembers details like this since way back when you were kids. you love his awkwardness and his acts of service. you love him and everything he has and all that he doesn’t.

“thanks, i love it,” you gush, taking the bouquet from him, accepting your parents’ offer to help take a picture of the both of you.

they take a ton of pictures.

in one of them, rin kisses your temple and you think you might melt. in another, you kiss his cheeks in return and he’s a deep shade of red. those are before the last picture where he turns you to face him and presses a kiss on your lips, earning a few whistles from the people around you.

you punch him playfully on the chest for that. you hear him chuckle and that might be your favorite sound ever.

rin surprises you too, because the next thing you know, he’s dragging you along with him, running to his car parked by the curb; you’re wondering how he even had the time to rent it.

“where are we going?”

your gown is long discarded into the back seats and rin only offers you a smirk in return. he’s not telling, and you roll your eyes and let it be.

whatever it is, you’re excited.

maybe it’s the fact that you had been thinking the worst up until this point. or maybe it’s the fact that he has his hand on your bare thigh. hell, it could even just be the fact that you’re sitting in a car with the prettiest guy you’ve ever met. but your heart is beating out of your chest and for the first time, you feel like this can be nothing but good news.

rin proves you right, because he takes you somewhere unfamiliar and then tells you why exactly he’s been distant the past week. he takes your hand and leads you through the front doors of what he now calls “our house”.

everything you’ve ever told him you wanted in your dream house; wooden overheads, small koi pond out back, a beautiful rooftop garden with a wooden porch swing.

everything.

he made it real. he made your dream house without you asking. he’s telling you he’ll move here if that’s what it takes to be with you. he tells you he loves you more than he can ever imagine loving anything else at all. he says that he’ll always be with you, and this time he doesn’t want to be apart to do it.

he asks you, “will you try to make it work with me?”

as if he even needs to.

if anyone asked you back then if you thought rin was capable of any of this, you’d say no. because the boy you knew at five is passive, quiet, not the kind to make declarations like these.

yet here he is, almost twenty years later, promising to put you first and make this last because he’s sure this is what he wants.

“itoshi rin,” you slowly call his name, roping your arms around his shoulder while the both of you look at each other and only each other as you stand on the staircase landing. “what would you have done if i said no?”

because this is all extravagant—rin put his everything into this. dug up all the memories of your dream house, ran himself haggard just to get all of this done on time, and who knows what else because he kept all of this from you?

rin has a straight face, beautiful teal eyes rolling to the side as he contemplates. “guess that was never an option in my head.”

“you’re so stupid,” you tease, pressing a kiss onto his soft lips and relishing in the fact that this is just the first kiss of many to come.

because he’s now here. here with you. and he’s here to stay.

“guess that’s why i need you around to take care of me,” rin teases back, biting his lower lip and smirking at you.

you jump up and he catches you, your legs crossed behind his back as he carries you to the kitchen, setting you down on the countertop.

“so, itoshi rin,” you say again, suppressing a grin. “does that mean you’re gonna make me your wife one day?”

rin sighs and rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “okay, trouble, dial back a bit now. one step at a time.”

he’s lying through his teeth, a ring passed down through his family for generations already nestled neatly in the hidden compartment of the nightstand in the bedroom. he’s lying—but you don’t need to know that. not yet.

you’re all trouble, and all beautiful and all his and rin is going to marry you someday.

because he may be dumb in a lot of ways, may be a little awkward and terrible in most situations and not the friendliest guy out there. but somehow you chose him and you always did and you always will so he’s not going to let you regret that decision.

so before you can make a comeback and expose him for really wanting to marry you, he kisses you to shut you up, and you know anyway.

because you’ve known rin since you were five, playing hide and seek in the playground. you never won because you could never find him. but you think now you have; you’ve found him and he’s not going anywhere. not anymore.

“i’m never gonna let you leave me, itoshi rin.”

he chuckles, “i’m all yours, trouble.”

#bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin x y/n #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

[gildedphoenix]

Fire Escape - Dead on MAYn Day 1

Prompts uses: -Courting rituals -Flickering -Dinner interrupted by a fight -“Are they gone yet”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Not beta read. 6k words. Jason has a stressful day and shares dinner with his downstairs neighbor, Danny. The following week, Danny leaves something for him. A courting ritual between busy, stressed disasters.

AO3: Fire Escape Dead on MAYn Blog @deadonmayn

Fire Escape 

Life as a vigilante was stressful. Their world was not always easy. Cases did not always wrap up nicely in thirty minutes with everyone skipping off, hand in hand. 

This was definitely one of those bad days. 

A child trafficking case, after dragging on for the last 3 months, ended horribly. The head of the ring got away before Hood and Nightwing could to box him in. Most of the kids were already gone, whisked away to another location while Jason and Dick were fighting to reach them. And the kids they were able to find? Jason took a deep breath. This wasn’t a night he would be able to forget anytime soon. 

He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight so after Dick left, Jason cooked. He made chicken and bacon stuffed shells with a creamy marinara sauce. The recipe always took forever but it was a welcome distraction. Jumbo shells, chicken, bacon, broccoli, cheese, and sauce and a dozen other components to prep and cook. No time to think of anything else.

Two hours later, Jason was still wired, but he had stuffed shells. Enough for his whole family, if he was honest with himself. Enough to feed those kids who didn’t make it. Enough to fill the stomachs that hadn’t been full in so long but would never be hungry again. 

Jason was broken out of his despair by a noise on the fire escape. His gun was in his hand without conscious thought. Slow, steady steps took him closer to the window until he could see the potential intruder. 

Jason's shoulders dropped back down as he spotted his downstairs neighbor outside their window. It wasn’t unusual to see Danny out on the fire escape, one level down. Nothing unusual. Nothing to be concerned about. 

Jason reupholstered his gun before Danny spotted him and turned back to the kitchen. They’d introduced themselves when Danny moved in a few weeks ago at the beginning of the fall semester but hadn’t interacted much since then. 

Grabbing the casserole dish and an extra plate and fork, Jason stepped out onto his level of the scaffolding and called down to Danny. 

“Hey, you want some food? I made too much and can’t possibly eat it all.” Jason set the dish down between himself and the stairs and started in on his own plate. 

“Oh my god, Yes! I haven’t had food all day! You are a life saver. A knight in shiny armor.” Danny made his way up the stairs and peeked his head just above Jason’s level. He reached slowly for the extra plate and serving spoon while watching Jason. Jason motioned a little ‘go ahead’ with his own fork and Danny’s face lit up as he scooped a modest portion of shells onto his plate. “I was stuck in meetings all day. The council just wanted to drag everything out and every issue solved spawned two more. And it’s not even like they listen to me,” he stopped, eyes wide and he put the serving spoon back in the dish and looked intently at his own plate. “Not that they would. You know. I’m just a,you know, just an intern. I’m not even paid. Just an unpaid internship. Yep. I’m just there to take notes and get college credit. I’m an engineering student at Gotham U.” He glanced over at Jason, eyes a little panicked as he tried to sell his obvious lie. “But I don’t wanna bore you. You probably have a real job with real stress. I’m just an intern student. Aaaaaaand I’m gunna stop rambling now and go eat. Yep. Thank you.” 

Danny clammered back down the stairs (and Jason could swear he missed that last step based on the noises) before settling down against the wall next to his window. With a chuckle, Jason took another bite of his food. “You’re right, my job is stressful. That doesn’t mean you’re day can’t be stressful too, though. Stress is relative. We all handle it differently. It’s how I ended up making too much food. I’ve got a big family and I just went on autopilot and before I knew it I’d made enough to feed them all, even though none of them are over tonight. It’s still a nice way to decompress. I’ll give them a call tomorrow to see if any of them want some but this dish is better fresh.” He leaned back against his own wall, eyes closed, taking in the steady constant noises of the city. The chatter of Crime Alley and the more distant rumble of Gotham. It was several minutes before Jason heard Danny call up again. 

“This is amazing. I don't think I’ve eaten anything this good since….Actually never. I definitely can’t make anything like this and my parents didn’t really do home cooked meals.” 

Jason glanced down through the grates and Danny was scraping the sauce off the plate onto his fork. Jason decided to show some mercy before the poor guy started licking the plate. “Feel free to grab more. I’m not gonna eat this all and my siblings should have clairvoyantly known I was cooking if they really wanted any.” Jason chuckled a bit but it also didn’t seem that unrealistic. 

“Thanks! I’m going to be full for a week after this.” Danny popped back up the stairs, his face lit up in joy, as he pulled the dish over to him, spooning out a full plate of shells this time. “I guess their loss is my gain.” He went back down to lounge against his own wall. 

An easy silence fell. The noises of the city a distant juxtaposition to the bubble they had created. Just two people enjoying food. Enjoying a little down time. Enjoying peace.

****

A few days later, Jason came home to a surprise. He didn’t expect to really hear from his neighbor again beyond the occasional waves and hellos they had previously established. Just the coming and going in the stairs or passing on the street. But there on the outside of his window was a sticky note. Black with tiny nebulas, Jason’s name was scrawled with silver glitter gel pen and an arrow pointing down.

He opened the window and looked down to see if Danny was out, Jason spotted a ziplock bag full of cookies and a thermos. With Danny nowhere in sight, Jason inspected the note again and on the other side was more writing.

“I can’t cook anything near as good as what you made, but these are my favorite cookies from the bodega by campus. I like them with cardamom tea.” 

Jason opened the bag and caught a whiff of the cookies. He had fully intended to run them through a spectrometer but the enticing scent of ginger snaps and some urge deep within his soul overrode his caution. He took a small bite. And they were delicious. The spices were deep and warm. The molasses earthy. Setting them aside for a moment, he opened the thermos and took a tentative sip. The tea was still warm and lightly sweetened. The sharp spices of the tea playing well off the warmth of the cookies. 

He’d never had anyone leave him offerings like this. The thought stopped him for a moment. 

Gifts. Not offerings, gifts. He shrugged and grabbed a book from his TBR shelf. Settling in with the cookies and tea to relax before he had to go out for patrol. His mind was distracted by stray thoughts of what he might be able to leave his neighbor in return. 

****

Danny hated his teachers. He hated this city. He hated his creaky apartment. Though he didn’t mind the eye candy of his upstairs neighbor when they passed on the stairs. And if Danny turned around once in a while to watch Jason go up the stairs and enjoy the view? Well that was just the payment he deserved from the universe for the elevator always being out. There were other perks too, Danny decided thoughtfully. He and Jason had been leaving each other little offerings on the fire escape and it had become the best part of Danny’s day. It wasn’t every day, maybe more like once a week. But the joy he got when there was a little package outside his window? Unparalleled. As if matching Danny’s galaxy post it note energy, Jason left notes with his gifts on stationary that looked like old parchment paper, quotes from classic authors printed along the bottoms. Just a little explanation of what the gift was and where it was from. Or sometimes, if it were a homemade dish, Jason would include where he’d got the recipe from. Danny was on the look out for a larger notepad that was still space themed. He found he was running out of space on his post its and using two seemed like trying too hard, as if going out and buying all new stationary wasn’t also trying too hard. But Jason didn’t have to know it was new. Danny could have already had this. 

To Danny’s joy, there was a take out box outside under his window today. No Jason to be seen, but they rarely made it outside at the same time. Their schedules rarely lined up.

“I found a new korean place over off Vermont St. I got you some char sui pork buns. I hope they help tonight while you’re studying for finals. The things you’ve left for me have always made my evenings better.  -Jason”

And at the bottom, the little book quote read “‘Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.’” -Charlotte’s Web

What had started as a simple shared meal from Jason making too much food after work had become the best part of Danny’s week. And it seems like Jason might feel the same. A lovely give and take of food offerings. A courtship. Or at least, Danny liked to think of it that way. But even just simple friendship was a welcome feeling. At least now he knew Jason also liked their little dance and this wasn’t out of some misconstrued obligation. And Jason even remembered that he was a student and that it was finals week. That extra thought had Danny blushing as he took the buns to his kitchen counter and stuck the note on his fridge with a comet shaped magnet. Danny kept all the notes Jason left. Luckily the fridge couldn’t be seen from the window because otherwise Danny would die (again) of embarrassment. As it was, he simply enjoyed his dinner while rereading Jason’s words.

****

“Wait a minute” Dick interrupted Jason’s story description of Danny’s most recent gift of curry and boba tea. “So you and this guy-” “Danny,” Jason corrected. Dick nodded, a conspiratorial smile growing. The kind of smile your brother gets when he stumbles across potential blackmail material on you. “So you and Danny” Jason did not like that tone, “have been leaving gifts outside each others windows.” Jason nodded, “Every week, or MORE,” Dick looked pointedly at Jason for confirmation, to which Jason nodded again. “And you FINALLY tell him that his gifts ‘make your day better’ and you use the page with a quote from Charlotte’s Web about FRIENDSHIP?” 

“What’s the matter with that? It’s not like I picked it specifically. It was just the next page.” Jason was beginning to regret sharing this joy with his dick of a brother.

“Ok, So.” Dick threw his arm around Jason’s shoulders, “We need to either work on your delivery, or get you some stationary with better quotes. You’re clearly over the moon about this guy-” “Hey, what makes you say that? I just- It’s- I…”Jason stuttered, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. “Having something to look forward to after I get off patrol is nice. And having someone go out of their way to do that for me…” 

Dick really looked at his brother. It wasn’t often that Jason managed to look small these days. But there he sat, shoulders hunched, fingers fiddling with Danny’s most recent note. It wasn’t a sticky note size, but a small half page. Very much like Jason’s own notepad with the quotes from famous authors. He was absentmindedly folding the paper back and forth, making lines from star to star among the constellations decorating the page. “Jason,” Dick dropped his teasing tone and waited for his little brother to look up. “It sounds like you’ve got a good thing going here. I wouldn’t want you to mess it up by being impatient. You laid out your cards, in a small careful way, and you received something in turn,” he nodded to the creased note. “Keep taking those steps. I can see how happy this has made you, even as simple as it is. Keep finding things you think he’ll like. Keep leaving your little courtship gifts. And maybe just flip through your stationary and pick the quotes a bit more deliberately,” Dicks eyes glinted dangerously, “You lit’ nerd.” Dick quickly flipped backwards from sitting into several handsprings across the training mat, his maniacal laughter echoing across the cave as he tried to escape the very predictable ire of his younger brother.

“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Jason rolled up onto the mats to chase Dick, joy in his heart and violence on his mind. Danny’s note settled to the floor, waiting for Jason’s response. “I hope you like curry! I got a medium spicy, but eat it with the naan if it’s too hot. Your gifts are the highlight of my day whenever you leave me something.” And then, hand written at the bottom of the page where Jason’s stationary had quotes, “With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad I ended up in a constellation next to you.”

****

“Guys, I’m going to die.” Danny declared and then promptly face planted into Sam’s couch. They were having their monthly catch up dinner and hang out. Sam was attending Metropolis University for Law with a minor in environmental studies. Her parents weren’t happy with her obvious post grad plans, but she was fulfilling their terms of getting a traditional, respectable degree, so they were footing the bill. That included her off campus apartment because no daughter of theirs was about to live in those dingy college dorm rooms. 

Tucker was attending MIT while also building a name for himself in the hacker community. Two streams he was desperately trying to keep from crossing, lest MIT expel him on ethics. 

Danny, of course, was attending Gotham U for aerospace engineering and astronomy. Their schedules made it hard to find a common evening once a month that they were all free. Danny’s ability to make portals (thanks to a new set of powers and abilities that came with being Ghost King of the infinite realms) made it slightly easier to get everyone in the same room once they found the time. Danny’s muffled voice drifted up from the couch cushions. 

“What was that Danny? I couldn’t quite get that through the literal couch in your face.” Sam sassed.

Danny lifted his face from the fluff and whined, “I left Jason the sappiest note and by the time I came to my senses, he had already taken iiiiiiiiiit! And now he’s read it and he hates me and he’s never going to talk to me again or leave me homemade cookies or anything else ever again and it’s all because I read too deep into a quote from fucking Charlotte’s Web!” He flopped onto his back and then slowly melted off the couch, thumping to the floor when Sam pushed him to make room to sit down with her pho bowl. 

“Come on man, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Tucker said. “Tell us what you wrote.” “No.”

“Don’t make me check the security footage. You know we’ve got HD cameras on your place.” Tucker, horrible friend that he was, was already pulling up the footage. The cameras had been installed as a valid security measure but were mostly used to retrieve blackmail footage against Danny by his friends. Danny had a tendency to glow and float as he stargazed on rare clear nights in Gotham and Sam and Tucker gave him no end of shit about it. 

“Did you find it?” Sam asked excitedly, crowding closer while holding Danny off with a boot to the face. 

“Yep! Let’s see, ‘Hope you like curry,’ blah blah blah, oh here. ‘With all the stars in the sky, and all the people in the world, I’m glad you ended up in a constellation next to me.’ You’re right.” Tucker declared solemnly. “It is bad. He’s never going to talk to you again. He’s gunna move states. Dye his hair. Change his name! You’ll never find him again and you’ll never find love.” Tucker lost his deadpan demeanor and dissolved into laughter. 

Danny glared at him and phased the couch out from under him. Tucker hit the floor still laughing and didn’t stop. 

“Captain Chuckles can stay on the floor, but please re-solidify my couch. I like it to exist in this dimension.” Sam nudged Tucker ever so gently out of the way so that the couch could exist again. 

“But really. Was it too much?” Danny asked Sam, since Tucker was clearly just going to be useless. 

“I think it was honest and forward. I think if you guys had been going on traditional dates, then it might be too much.” Dannys face fell and his shoulders slumped. “But!” Sam interjected quickly, “That is not what you guys are doing. For better worse, you have some archaic courting ritual going on. You’ve only been exchanging words and gifts. Small offerings of your heart and soul. To give less than your full self in this situation would be disingenuous. I don’t think it was too soon, especially since he initiated the sentiment. Sure, writing down undying love,” Danny and tucker both chuckled at the ‘undying’ part and Sam kicked them both for it, “Would have been too much. But directly stating that you enjoy the little dance you have going on? And that you like him? Nah. I think you did good. Especially since he’s clearly a literary nerd.”

“Yeah” Tucker chimed in, “He matches well with your space nerd!” 

“Oh that’s it! You’re in for it now!” Danny rolled off the couch and chased Tucker around Sam’s spacious apartment, promising to freeze him to the ceiling once he caught him. 

****

Jason decided to take a night off patrol. Nothing major should be going on tonight. The Alley could do without him being a helicopter parent for one evening. He wanted to make a more involved meal for Danny. There was a good chance that they would see each other tonight. Jason had connected some dots and realized that Danny, the beautiful face and soul that he was, liked to stargaze on clear Gotham nights. This would be the first clear night in weeks and there was no way that Danny would miss the opportunity. 

So Jason got started early. Rissoto didn’t look fancy but it took skill to get right. The results, when done right, were amazing. Jason had also picked up a bottle of wine. Call it wishful thinking, but he hoped Danny would share it with him and they might sit down and really get to know each other. That would be nice. 

****

As Jason stood, stirring his hopes and risotto, Danny was one floor down trying not to burn the entire building down. This was his fourth night trying to make the same thing.  He’d watched so many videos. So many tutorials. All of them said this could be done by a beginner cook if they just followed the steps. None of them really sold how difficult it was though. Someone needed to start a cooking channel where an average person tried to follow these recipes. 

The first attempt, several nights ago, ended in him realizing that he could not melt sugar on top of a creme brulee in a plastic ramekin. Fire plus plastic is bad. That was the first batch ruined. 

The second batch didn’t set in the oven. Which didn’t make sense because he’d done everything the same as the first batch, which had turned out fine. 

The third batch, he turned the oven up just a but realized while he was cleaning up egg shell that he’d never actually put eggs into the second batch. By the time he got the third batch out of the oven, they were horribly over cooked. 

For the fourth batch, he laid out all his ingredients, portioned and in order of use. Set his oven back to the right temperature and gave an offhanded prayer to Clockwork for proper timing. 

The timer dinged, the custards wobbled ever so slightly and Danny about collapsed with relief as he got them safely removed from the oven and set on his counter. He took a moment to contemplate how he’d ended up cooking the same dessert four nights in a row. These were way too complicated for him. But he’d done this to himself. He’d looked up “impressive desserts to make for your date” and Creme Brulee topped half the lists. Last step was to toast the tops with a micro torch after they cooled. 

Danny returned to his homework while he waited.

****

Jason opened his window, two servings piping hot seafood risotto plated and ready. He’d heard muffled cursing from downstairs, so he knew Danny was home. Most likely cursing one of his professors. Jason left the bottle of wine just inside his window. He was hopeful that the evening would go well but no sense in being presumptuous. He wasn’t even sure if Danny liked wine, or drank at all! 

Starting down the fire escape, Jason was surprised to see Danny already out. He was peering into the eyepiece of a telescope muttering to himself. Danny did talk to himself a lot now that he thought about it. Not wanting to startle him, Jason waited on the upper level of the fire escape and simply watched. Admired the object of his affections these past months. It was odd to think how much they’d both put into the relationship so far for how little time they’d actually spent together. Danny sat on the stairs in his Nasa hoodie and some Justice League pajama pants, which caused Jason to chuckle quietly to himself.

Sitting next to Danny was an open notebook, Danny’s chaotic handwriting scattered over the page along with some very precise charts. Jason almost didn’t believe they were hand drawn except that they were penned in the same aggressively bright neon green sparkly gel pen as the chicken scratch writing. What a strange dichotomy. Next to the notes sat a tray with two ramekins of creme brulee. As Dannys hand moved down to make some notes Jason noticed several bandaids with burns peeking out from under them. Had Danny made the creme brulees himself? He’d mentioned a few times that he was hopeless in the kitchen. Had he gone to all that trouble and apparently pain, to make something for Jason? 

For no particular reason, Jason needed to clear his throat, which startled Danny of his concentration trance. “Oh! You’re here!” Danny said. He capped the eyepiece and looked around. “I made you something. You’re always making things for me and I’ve just been buying things so I wanted to put more work into your gifts. So I made these. For….For us. I was hoping you’d eat with me? I waited out here for you. Also it was a great night for some stargazing so I was just doing that while I waited, of course, because sometimes you come home really late. Not that I’m watching you!” Danny’s hands came up defensively, a blush coloring his cheeks as he rambled. Eyes darting away, he started clearing off the stairs for them to sit. Moving his notebooks and the creme brulees. Jason just smiled at the disaster he was already half in love with. He couldn’t wait to learn all of Danny’s quirks and habits. Would he always ramble on or was this just jitters? Would Danny’s face light up the same way every time Jason came home from patrol? He hoped so. He wanted to make this work. He wanted to come home to that face.

“I’m actually really glad you’re out here,” Jason said, saving Danny from himself. “I’ve seen your telescope and noticed that you like to come out on clear nights. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me again. I made seafood risotto. It’s shrimp and muscles. Would you like some?” Jason presented the plates to Danny as he came down the stairs. 

“Yeah. I’d love to have dinner with you. I like any food that doesn’t try to eat my back. I don’t think I’ve ever had risotto. Let me just finish moving my junk.” He smiled as he set everything off to the side in a pile.

Jason settled down and handed one of the plates and a fork over to Danny. “How has school been going? I think you mentioned you were going for engineering?” Danny nodded. “What made you pick Gotham U? Most people are trying to leave the city, not come here.”

“Oh, that’s easy. But two reasons really. First, Gotham U has the Wayne Tech scholarship program and the great internship programs. I’ve also heard hush-hush rumors about some great job opportunities that recruit from Wayne Tech. If it’s true, I want to be here.” Danny gazed up longingly at the sky. Wayne Tech of course had partnerships with NASA but that was a well known connection. It wasn’t hush hush. The only thing Jason could think of that Danny would be alluding to would be jobs on the Watchtower. They did hire civilians, but the Justice League hand selected the best of the best. Bruce and Lucius kept their eyes out for those people. Not that he supported nepotism, but Jason wouldn’t mind making sure Danny’s name got added to the hat once he was ready. 

“The other reason,” Danny said, breaking Jason out of his future planning, “is that Gotham is the only city I could find with even half the amount of crazy as Amity, my home town. We had some crazy super villains and after growing up with that daily madness, I can’t settle down in a peaceful city.” He took a moment to savor the food, bliss coming across his face. It made Jason want to make more food for him. Jason wanted to bring him that joy again. To provide for Danny and take care of him. “This is really good! I love your food. Best thing I’ve ever had every time. I just hope what I made doesn’t give us both food poisoning.” “Hey, I’m sure it’s great. Did you burn your fingers making that? I saw the band aids. Even if you need chaos, I’m sure you don’t need to make more by burning yourself making dessert. Just walk through the alley in the daytime and I’m sure you’ll get enough excitement.” 

“Nah, Muggers are small potatoes.” Danny contested. “Most exciting thing that can come of that is Red Hood showing up. And I’m typically not out while he’s patrolling. Hood keeps most of the rif raf out of the area, so I generally feel safer here than the rest of Gotham.” 

“Hmmm. So Hood is doing better than the bats and birds? I’m sure Batman would love to hear that.” Jason bumped Danny’s shoulder playfully. “Since you’ve been here for a few months now, do you have a favorite bat or bird?”

“Red Hood.” Danny said quickly and decisively. “Definitely Red Hood. Not only does he have his area on lock down, so much so that even the other Bats stay out. Black Mask? Nope. Traffickers? Gone. Most violence? Low level. I know some of the bigger name rogues will ignore all the boundaries but they’re really not known for following the rules so they don’t really count. And also he’s….” Danny stopped abruptly, a blush coming over his cheeks. “But what about you? You grew up here. Who’s your favorite?” 

“That’s a hard choice. I remember when it was just Batman and Robin OG. So I would say it was original Robin, then Nightwing, but then he abandoned us for Bludhaven. Now It’s probably BlackBat. Though the current Robin is also doing a great job. He gets a lot of shit for being so young and violent but what do people expect? Of course he’s violent. Being Robin is not easy. It’s- And now I’m rambling on.” Jason chuckled. “BlackBat. She’s my favorite. For now.” 

“Hmmm. I haven’t heard a lot about her. It makes sense since what I have heard is that she’s the stealthiest of the bats.” 

Some time during the conversation they had relaxed, no longer holding a strict gap between their bodies. Forks clinked as they sat shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip on the narrow fire escape staircase. A peaceful silence fell around them like a cozy blanket. 

“Can I try one of the creme brulees?” Jason asked, having finished his food already. “I would hate to see all your hard work, pain, and suffering go unappreciated.”

“Sure, but you’re taking your life into your own hands. Just do me a favor and lie to me about how good it is.” Danny passed one of the desserts and a small spoon over to Jason. Their hands touched and they both paused, but neither pulled away. 

A gentle smile grew on Jason’s face as a blush returned to Danny’s cheeks but still neither pulled away.  The world seems to pause around them, allowing them this moment. The soft light coming from the windows flickered….and then went out. 

“Um…What just happened?” Danny asked, looking around. The ambient glow of Gotham still loomed in the distance but most of the closer lights had gone out, just street lamps remained. Down at the end of the street, a red glow flickered. The glow of fire. “I gotta go.” They both said at the same time. Their eyes met in the dim light. Shadows made masks on their faces and sudden understanding lit their eyes. A mutual epiphany.

“Be safe.” Danny said to Red Hood. “You too.” Jason responded before darting back up the stairs and into his apartment. 

****

Danny’s mind was reeling. How could he not have noticed? All the clues were there in hindsight. The late nights. The tired days. The various bruises and scrapes. Even the vague half answers and glaring lack of personal info in their brief conversations. But in that moment of calamity, Jason’s entire demeanor shifted. His shoulders squared and resolution threaded every fiber of his frame, and what a great frame it was. On the plus side, Danny felt less conflicted about staring at Red Hood’s ass while courting Jason. They were the same ass. The same thighs. The same broad shoulders that Danny had way too many private thoughts about. 

Focus Danny!

Once he got into his closet, he transformed. While he no longer shouted “Going Ghost” at the top of his lungs (He was young, leave him alone), he didn’t have any way to dampen the bright flash of light his transformation gave off. So into the closet he went. 

Flying through his apartment walls and over the battle zone he quickly assessed the lay of the land. There seemed to be two groups shooting at each other from opposite corners of the street. Behind every available place of cover and down every alley, people were hiding. Sneaking into the intersection from their apartment was Red Hood, also assessing the situation from the ground. His eyes raked over both factions, the civilians, the fire escapes and windows, and even the rooftops. Danny was impressed because few people thought to look up. Danny allowed himself to pop back into the visible spectrum as Jason’s gaze passed over the rooftop Danny was hovering over. Nobody else was looking up. Nobody ever looked up.

Danny pointed at Hood, then at the violence. Then after a pause, pointed at himself and circled his hand around to indicate the surrounding area. He hoped Hood would catch that Danny was going to take care of the civilians and general crowd control. Jason nodded and took out two of his guns, checking the safety and loads before focusing on the task ahead. Danny faded back to invisibility and looked around for the most vulnerable of the civilians to get them out first.

****

The firefight took much longer to handle than Danny expected. He was used to one on one or maybe himself versus a group, but never a gang war like this. Never with so many people. So many combatants. So many innocents in the line of fire. 

The noise in the streets had been like listening to a bag of popcorn. Shots overlapping. Echoing endlessly. A constant incomprehensible cacophony of gunfire. As Danny got more civilians to safety, the density of noise began to wane. Little by little the gunfire spread out as Hood disabled the shooters and their weapons until it went from constant noise to just isolated pops to silence. 

Danny allowed himself to become visible atop the same roof as earlier when he noticed Jason looking for him once more. Danny held his fist out, thumb to the side, head cocked in question. Red Hood returned the thumb out fist and turned it up briefly, before pointing with his thumb over his shoulder back towards their apartments. Danny turned up his thumb to match and nodded before disappearing and leaving Hood to the mercy of the converging Bats. Danny didn’t even remember them showing up. He was so focused on getting people to safety. He was glad Jason had help though. He sped back to his own apartment to wait. To pace restlessly and hope that Hood hadn’t been hurt.

****

Jason was annoyed. Bruce was annoying for trying to act like he was in charge while standing in Jason’s damn apartment. Tim was annoying, standing off to the side while silently judging Jason’s lack of coffee choices. Oracle was annoying for sending Bats his way when she heard him get winged by a stray round at the beginning of the firefight. He was even annoyed with himself for somehow missing that Danny was apparently a vigilante? Or maybe a rogue? He needed them to leave. He needed to check on Danny. There was clearly some kind of powers involved but nothing to say that Danny couldn’t be hurt. That he wasn’t hurt. He’d seen Danny peek his head around the window frame three separate times before literally disappearing from view each time. Clearly waiting until Jason was alone again to talk.

“Look.” Jason interrupted whatever Bruce was saying. “I’m tired. I was already in for the night before that clusterfuck even began. I need you both out of my place because I have a date with a cup of tea and possibly a shot of whiskey.” Jason stalked over and opened the front door in clear invitation to leave. “Out. And tell O to mind their own business and butt out of my feeds.” Jason continued to motion out the door. Gentleman that he was, he even waited politely until their capes were all the way out the door before slamming it behind them. Jason took a deep breath and turned around as he felt the air shifting.

“Are they gone yet?” Danny asked. His inexplicable white hair from the battlefield was gone but he was floating a couple inches off the floor. 

Jason wondered if he knew he was doing it as he walked over to retrieve the bottle of wine. 

“Yeah. They’re gone for now. Let’s talk.” 

#dead on main #dpxdc #danny phantom #jason todd #red hood #my writing #deadonmayn24 #Not beta read #we die like our boys #courtship rituals #flickering #prompt fill #the word count got away from me #Fire Escape

[bucknastysbabe]

now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

[allthingsimagines]

Multiverse Parenting

Summary: One day when you’re swinging around New York a little girl falls from a portal from the sky. She asks you to help her find her dad, but how are you supposed to do that when he’s the Spider-Man of a different universe?

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This was based off an idea a few weeks ago by @twentysomethingwereyote ! Thank you for the amazing idea!

Original request: “Gabriella gets teleported to Earth-1218 or one similar to it and it’s up to the reader to somehow access the multiverse to get her home.”

Part Two

It had been a fairly normal day until everything flipped on its head in Manhattan. You’d been Spider-Woman for three years now and everyday came with its challenges. Managing bills piling up and dealing with the bizarre villains that popped up.

That’s New York for you.

You’d been swinging around casually on your day off from work. You swung around the corner of the Empire State Building when suddenly you noticed a flash of bright colors in the middle of the sky. Your eyes widened, what the hell?

The sky was literally glitching out. Well, this was new.

Then a sharp scream rang out and all of your senses lit up. A little girl flew through the mess of glitching colors and straight toward the ground.

You dove off the side of the building without hesitation and shot towards her. You quickly grabbed her into your arms and held her tightly to you. You shot a web out quickly to the closest building and swung towards the roof. The girl clung to you tightly and sobbed. Your heart clenched at the sight, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you kid.”

You landed on top of the building and looked back at the sky to find the glitch that the girl had fallen out of was gone now. You set the little girl down as she continued to cry. She looked to be around ten and had brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

You bent down to her level and placed a comforting hand on her back and rubbed it to soothe her, “Hey, what’s your name?”

She sniffed and took a shuddering breath, “Gabriella.”

You realized the mask wasn’t helping you to calm her down since she literally just dropped from a hole in the sky. You took a moment to nervously ponder whether taking it off was worth it.

“Are-Are you like Spider-Man? My dad is Spider-Man in my ho-home,” She said, wiping her tears away.

You felt relief flood you as you resigned to take your mask off. You pulled it from your head and smiled at her, “Yeah, my name is Y/N. They call me Spider-Woman here.”

She nodded and you could tell the similarity between you and her dad helped her relax. You sighed at the realization that you had no clue how to get her home.

“What’s your dad’s name?” You asked her and she shuffled back and forth on her feet.

“Miguel O’Hara,” She said softly.

You’d definitely never heard that name before. You had no clue how to get to another dimension and it was going to take a lot of brain power to get this girl home.

You smiled gently at her and squeezed her shoulder. Her scared eyes looked up at you, “I know this is all scary and confusing. I’m sorry you ended up here, but just know that your dad is doing everything he can to get back to you.”

“My dad calls me ‘todo su mundo’ it means ‘his whole world’. I miss him a lot,” She said and her eyes filled with tears again.

“Gabriella, I’m going to do everything I can to get you back to your dad, okay?” You said, trying to comfort her as much as you could.

You held your hand up with your pinky out and you caught the smallest smile on her face as she nodded and looped her pinky around yours. You stood up and sighed, “I think you should stay with me until I can find a way to get you to your dad. I live with my Aunt May and let me tell you, she makes the best cookies ever.”

Gabriella smiled as she looked up at you, “Really?”

You beamed at her and ruffled her hair, “Oh totally. She’s the best cook in Queens. She’ll make whatever you want I swear.”

You pulled the mask over your head and picked her up on your hip. She wrapped her arms around your neck and tucked her head into it. You held her tightly to you and shot a web before jumping off and heading towards Queens.

You hoped to god Miguel O’Hara was out there looking for his daughter too.

Three years had passed since you’d had any experience of the multiverse. Gabriella was now fourteen and a sophomore in high school. She was an extremely bright girl and excelled in school and sports. She was the star soccer player and you and Aunt May always attended her games to cheer her on, well when you could with Spider-Woman business.

Your search for how to get Gabi back to her universe had never come up with any leads. She had literally just dropped from the sky, like goddamn Chicken Little. There was no Miguel O’Hara in your universe either for you to try to rely on.

You wanted her to get back to her dad as you could tell it still ate her alive not knowing what happened to him. But, she had also become like a daughter to you.

The superhero life didn’t leave much time for relationships. How many people on earth would ever be able to understand how much sacrifice and hardship it took to protect the city each day? But, that girl did.

She understood how much her dad, and now you, had to sacrifice to keep the city safe. She was a great kid and you were happy for her to be in your life.

You were in the midst of having a movie night with her. You lounged next to her on the couch as she leaned against your shoulder.

“So, they just decided to make dinosaurs ‘cause they could? Isn’t that a stupid idea?” She questioned and you laughed.

“That’s kinda the whole point. Humanity is bound to destroy itself if given the chance,” You said with a shrug.

“The dinosaurs are a genetic disaster. It’s wrong to bring them back,” She said with a smirk and you threw a hand over your heart dramatically.

“Woah! From a genetic disaster themselves that is rude,” You teased her as your watch lit up.

You had crafted a watch to track crimes and keep you updated on the going ons of the city. Much better than a walkie talkie. You pulled your arm out from behind her shoulders and checked the notification, “Santa mierda.”

Gabi pointed at you and grinned, “Aunt May would have your head for that mom.”

You stood up from the couch and swore to yourself as you rushed to change into your suit.

“What’s wrong? Mom?” Gabi questioned as you sped back into the room in your full suit.

“Goblins out. He’s supposed to still be stuck in a maximum security cell in the Raft. I’ve gotta go before he tears up Manhattan,” You said as you moved over to her and grabbed her shoulders gently.

You smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I love you mi ángel. I’ll be home when it’s done, but you need to stay here with May. It’s not gonna be safe in the city tonight.”

She nodded and pulled you into a tight hug. You sighed and rubbed her back to comfort her. You pulled away and smiled before pulling on your mask and rushing out the window.

You swung as fast as you could across the city. There’d been no reports of a break out from the Raft, so how the hell had he got free? You swung towards the Brooklyn Bridge as you saw bombs coming from the sight. You swore to yourself as you zipped towards the bridge and Green Goblin came into view.

What the hell? That was not the Green Goblin you knew.

He looked so weird. Almost like a devil or a guy in a strange Halloween costume. Either way that was not the guy locked up in the Raft.

“I don’t know who you are, but I already put one or your asses in the Raft,” You said as you swung towards him and landed a kick to his jaw.

He went flying and crashed into the wall behind him. He looked up and growled at you, “You’re not Peter Parker.”

You scoffed as you began to web him up, “No shit. Now can we hurry this up. I've got a movie night to get back to.”

You continued to fight this Goblin and you had him pinned down until you noticed a flash of bright lights above you. Your eyes widened as you noticed a portal opening up, just like the one that day.

“What the hell?” You said before Goblin shot a bomb at you and you flew backwards.

You smacked your head hard against the concrete and groaned, “It can never be easy.”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position and watched three people come out of the portal. Your senses lit up and your head felt fuzzy until you realized that these people were Spider people as well. One woman rode in on a motorcycle, another came in with a guitar, and the last one was just an imposing man. They were quick to take down Goblin and contain him as you dusted yourself off and walked over. “So, are you guys Spider-Man too? I’m Y/N L/N.”

Goblin banged against his brightly colored cell as they turned to you. The woman smiled and folded her arms over her chest, “Yeah, I’m Jessica Drew. Spider-Woman too.”

She was very obviously pregnant and so much cooler than you. You grinned under the mask, “God it’s good to have another woman around. Y’Know basically all of my villains are guys. We gotta mix it up around here.”

She laughed at you and your eyes moved to the one with the guitar. He cocked his hip and chuckled, “Hobie Brown. Power to the people.”

You nodded and laughed, “I like it. Very anti-establishment of you.”

He nodded and folded his arms across his chest as your attention turned to the last one. He was a very tall and broad man in a futuristic blue suit. He stayed silent and you raised your brow, “What’s your name? Michael Myers?”

Jessica snorted and Hobie didn’t even bother to hide his laughter. The man grunted and folded his arms across his chest, “Miguel.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Miguel was a common enough name, but a Spider-Man named Miguel? You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest, “Last name?”

He obviously rolled his eyes even if you couldn’t see it with the mask, “What is this? An interrogation?”

You had hope that maybe he could be the dad your daughter had been searching for. You stepped closer and narrowed your eyes, “Last name.”

He stepped chest to chest with you and glared down, “O’Hara.”

You felt your heart stop and you stumbled back a few steps, “Holy fuck.”

You put your hands on your knees and closed your eyes as you tried to take calming breaths. This was your daughter's father. Gabi would have her dad again. You looked back up at him and rushed over and grabbed his arm, “Did you have a daughter?”

He physically recoiled at the question and stepped back, “What?”

No one had ever asked about his little girl. Few even knew that he had a daughter and now some random woman from a different universe was asking about her. Miguel glared down at you as his heart pounded against his chest.

You could practically see his defenses go up at your questioning, but you swallowed your fears and stepped towards him again, “Was your daughter named Gabriella? You called her ‘todo su mundo’.”

Miguel felt physically shaken by your words. His heart dropped to his stomach. There was no way. He’d seen her disappear from his arms. So, how did you know the nickname he had for his daughter?

Miguel rushed towards you and tightly grasped your arms,“How do you know that?”

You smiled under the mask and tears welled in your eyes at the knowledge that you had finally found her father. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them, “Because Gabi fell through a portal just like that three years ago. Your daughter is alive, Miguel.”

Miguel fell to his knees and began to cry. His daughter was alive and safe? He bent his head to the ground and clenched his fists as he tried to calm himself down.

You dropped to your knees next to him and placed a hand on his back and rubbed it, much like you’d always done for Gabi, “I’ve been taking care of her as my own for the last few years. You’d be so proud of the girl she’s grown up to be.”

Miguel sat up as he took deep breaths and he lifted his head to meet your eyes, “Thank you, for taking care of her.”

You smiled at his words. Gabi had been the best to ever happen to you. You sniffled as you did your best to hold your own tears back, “I’m grateful for her everyday.”

Miguel let out a shaky breath before he pushed himself to his feet. You quickly stood up and had to crane your neck to look up at him as he asked, “Can I see her?”

Your heart broke at the sight of him. This was a man who had clearly never stopped looking for his kid and he wanted her back. You looked around at the disaster around you and sighed before you met his eyes again, “I think it’s best to do this tomorrow. I need to talk to her and give her time to process this.”

Miguel looked ready to put up a fight at your words. You quickly grabbed his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze, “I know you want to see her now, but she needs time and so do you. There’s no need to rush this.”

Miguel bit his lip to hold in his frustration at your words. He wanted everything to go great when he saw his daughter again and as upset as the thought made him- you knew her better now than he did. Miguel nodded and let go of your hands,“I understand.”

You smiled and let out a shaky breath, “I can take her to you tomorrow. Is there a way I can meet you?”

Miguel looked back and held his hand out. Jessica tossed a watch similar to your own and he caught it before offering it to you. You took the watch from him and slipped it onto your free wrist. He took your hand in his and pressed a button, “Hit this and scroll until you see Earth-928, that’s headquarters.”

You shook your head and laughed at his words, “Headquarters? This feels like S.H.I.E.L.D., like a super secret superhero club.”

Miguel shook his head at you, but secretly smiled to himself. If his daughter could have ended up with anyone, a witty Spider-Woman from another universe wasn’t the worst possibility.

“Open the portal and come there at eleven,” He said, quickly showing you how to do it yourself.

“It’s a date,” You said without thinking and your cheeks lit up.

Miguel watched you in amusement as you became clearly very embarrassed at your own words. You folded your arms across your chest defensively and cursed, “No! Not like that. Ah, mierda you know what I meant.”

Miguel laughed at you and felt a pull towards your demeanor. Like all of the other Spider-Men, aside from himself, you had a good sense of humor and for once it didn’t completely annoy him. Miguel softly smiled at you before he surprised even himself by pulling you into a tight hug.

Your cheeks lit up again because from everything you had picked up about him hugs were definitely not in his repertoire. His grumpy demeanor did not scream that he was a hug guy, so you were going to take this as a success. Miguel stepped back, remembering himself as he cleared his throat and looked down at you, “Thank you for taking care of my little girl.”

You smiled at him and nodded, “I love her as my own. I’ll talk to her tonight and get her ready, okay?”

Miguel nodded and you backed away as you checked to make sure Goblin was all taken care of. You smiled at the group and saluted them, “Thanks for taking care of that weirdo! Can’t have more Green Goblins running around.”

You looked at Miguel one last time before you shot a web and swung away. The whole trip home felt like a blur as you fretted about how she would respond. You were glad you had found her dad, but did this mean she’d never come back? Would she visit you still? Would Miguel be okay with you still being her mom? You were the only person she’d ever called mom.

You landed in an alley near your apartment and quickly changed out of the suit before heading home. You took the elevator up in your building and let out a sigh to calm yourself before you unlocked the door.

Gabi was sitting at the kitchen table working on a painting, but her head snapped to the door as she noticed you come in. You let out a sigh as you kicked your shoes off, “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

She dropped her brush and rushed to your side and tackled you in a hug. You let out a sigh and smiled as you hugged her back, “Hey kiddo.”

She pulled away from you and you brushed her dark hair from her tired eyes, “Why’re you still up? It’s way past your bedtime.”

She rolled her eyes at your teasing, “Can’t I just be worried about my mom?”

You nodded and sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell her the news. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch, “We need to talk hun.”

Gabi tensed at your words as you sat on the couch. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders as she asked, “Am I in trouble?”

You shook your head and squeezed her shoulder, “You know, I am grateful everyday that I get to be your mom and that you came into my life. I wouldn’t change anything for the world.”

Gabi leaned into your hold as her cheeks lit up and she smiled. You bit your lip to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to crash over you, “But I can’t imagine how hard it was for your dad to lose his daughter and for you to be away from him.”

Gabi quickly scrubbed at her eyes and nodded. You pulled away from her and put your hand on the side of her face as you tried to smile as comfortingly as possible, “Gabi, I found your dad.”

Her face paled and she grabbed onto you, “Mom- I don’t understand- what?”

You smiled comfortingly and you scooted closer to her, “I met your dad tonight. He came from your universe with a few other Spider-Men.”

She then broke down into tears and clutched onto you like a lifeline. You held her tightly to you as she sobbed. After a few minutes she looked up at you with puffy eyes, “Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

You pushed her hair out of her eyes and squeezed her shoulder in support, “He wanted to angel, but I think you both needed time to process this. You’re getting your dad back and he’s getting his daughter.”

She nodded in understanding and you sent her a small smile, “Besides he was still in his suit and could probably use a shower before you had to give him tons of hugs. By the way, was he always a grump?”

Gabi laughed and nodded, “Yeah, he was always really grumpy with other people. But, it’s all a lie. He’s a softie.”

You smiled at her words, that made more sense rather than the stoic demeanor he put on. She looked at you hopefully, “When can I see him?”

“We’ll meet him in some Spider-Man HQ tomorrow at eleven. But if that’s too soon I can go and tell him you need time, just say the word,” You said as you tightened your hold around her shoulders.

“It’s not that. It’s just, when I go back to him will I still be able to see you? Of course I want to be with my dad, but you’re my mom too. I don’t wanna leave you,” she said as she tucked herself further into your side.

It was your biggest fear too. She was your kid now and you didn’t want to let her go either. You smiled wistfully and kissed her forehead, “Don’t worry about it tonight. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, I swear.”

The next morning you and Gabi both nervously stood in the living room as it neared eleven. She fretted over herself as she fixed her hair again for the thousandth time. You smiled as you squeezed her shoulders and then pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “Don’t worry, he still loves you. You’re still todo su mundo, I promise love.”

She nodded and squeezed your hand on her shoulder, “Thanks, I love you mom.”

You took her hand into your own and smiled at her before pulling your mask over your face, “I love you too. Ready to go?”

She nodded and you held up your watch and pressed the button. You then scrolled to Earth-928 and hit the button to open a portal. A burst of colors appeared in front of you and you both looked at each other in awe. You squeezed her hand in yours before you both stepped into the portal.

You gripped your hand in yours as you tumbled through an inter dimensional tube. Then suddenly you both landed in a different universe. Your eyes quickly moved to Gabi and gave her a quick once over to make sure she was alright before turning your attention to the world around you.

Holy shit.

There were flying cars, buildings going into the clouds, and there were only spider people here. This place was filled to the brim with every kind of Spider Person you could possibly think of. Gabi had a look of wonder in her eyes as she looked around at the world in front of her.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Jessica standing there with a bright smile on her face. Jessica walked up to you and you smiled in relief, “Jessica. It’s good to see at least someone here that I know.”

She nudged your shoulder and laughed, “You can call me Jess. I think we’ll be seeing enough of each other that we’ll be friends.”

You nodded with a smile before her attention turned to Gabi and her eyes softened. She met your eyes again and you could see the sympathy in her eyes for what you were feeling, from one mom to another.

“Come on, I’ll take you to his place. He’s waiting for you two,” She said and then began walking further into HQ.

You both followed behind her as she led you through a maze of hundreds of different Spider People. You could tell Gabi was in awe of the sights around her, but her nerves were eating her alive. You held her hand tightly in your own to keep her grounded as you finally began to move away from the crowds.

You reached what looked like a residential wing of sorts as Jess led you into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. The ride to the top gave you a great view of this world, but you were nervous for Gabi to meet her dad. She was still a kid when he last saw her and now she was growing into an amazing young woman.

The elevator reached the top and you came face to face with the door to his apartment. Jess stayed in the elevator, but gave you both a comforting smile, “Good luck.”

You nodded in thanks before you both walked up to the door. You squeezed Gabi’s hand and she looked up at you, “I’ve got you. No matter what happens next.”

She nodded and you dropped her hand to let her do this on her own. You pulled your mask from your head and shoved it in your pocket as she raised her hand and knocked on the door. The door swung open and Miguel stood in front of you now with no suit and in casual clothes.

He looked so much like his daughter.

Gabi’s eyes watered as she reached out for him, “Dad? Is it really you?”

Miguel nodded, clearly choked up, “Gabi, my little girl, look at you.”

Gabi burst into tears and jumped into her dads awaiting arms. Miguel pulled her into his arms and held his daughter to him.

This made everything worth it. Gabi finally had her dad back. You’d done it.

They continued to hug for a while until Miguel let out a half laugh and sob as he looked at his daughter, “God, look at you. You’re a beautiful young woman now.”

Gabi smiled at her dad as she wiped away her tears, “And now you’re old and grumpy.”

Miguel laughed at his daughter and clearly this was the happiest he’d been in years. Miguel finally moved his eyes to you and you felt a little out of place being here. Gabi reached towards you and grabbed your hand and pulled you forward, “Dad, this is my mom, Y/N. She’s been there for me ever since I landed in her universe.”

You met Miguel’s eyes and you both seemed to stop.

Wow, he was really good looking.

The intimidating demeanor he had previously only added to your attraction. He had dark tousled hair and a jawline that looked like it was cut by the gods.

Miguel was taken aback by you. Out of all of the thousands of Spider People he’d recruited, none of them held a candle to you. You were beautiful. You were a kind person and a good one. Oh he was in for it.

“Hey Miguel. Nice to see you without the mask and everything,” You said, trying to keep your embarrassment to a minimum.

Miguel nodded and you swore his own cheeks looked a little pink, “Thanks again, for everything.”

Gabi looked between the two of you with a mischievous look written all over her face. You narrowed your eyes at her, oh god what was she up to. Miguel opened the door to his apartment and you followed Gabi in and she looked around in wonder at all the futuristic technology.

His apartment didn’t seem homey. It was huge, but it was lonely. It was missing his daughter.

You looked around as Gabi and Miguel sat down to talk when you noticed a picture of Miguel and a little girl. You walked over to the frame and picked it up. The picture was of Gabi as a little girl shoving an ice cream cone into Miguel’s face as he smiled lovingly at your daughter.

“Do you have any pictures of her as a baby?” You blurted out without thinking.

You turned to face them and Miguel had an eyebrow raised at you. You flushed, slightly embarrassed for just speaking without thinking as Miguel sat next to Gabi with his arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve always wondered what she looked like as a baby. Y’know since I’ve never seen her that young,” You said and Gabi rolled her eyes.

“Mom, you’re just gonna use those to embarrass me,” Gabi teased you with a smile.

You set the frame down and went over to her and pressed a kiss to her, “I’m pretty sure that’s in the job description.”

“Yeah, I’ve got them back here,” Miguel said as he stood and began walking down the hallway.

You quickly followed after him then he suddenly stopped in front of a closet. You stumbled into him and he grabbed your arm to stabilize you. You met his eyes and bit your lip and shyly stepped away, “Sorry.”

Miguel opened the closet and reached into the back and pulled out two large scrapbooks. He placed the old large scrapbooks in your hands and you smiled up at him, “Can’t say I would’ve chalked you up as the scrapbooker type. I’m very impressed.”

Miguel shut the door and leaned against it, “Well, I’m a single dad what can I say. There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

“Well at least one of her parents has to be good at it. I can hardly do anything creative that isn’t tech related. Worst soccer mom ever,” You said as you pulled the books to your chest.

Miguel smiled at you.

What? It was a smile just for you, but kind of in a teasing way? He was way too hot to be doing things like this. You were starting to get mixed signals from him. First he was stoic and grumpy and now he was charming and making scrapbooks.

He was also your daughter's father. That made everything far more complicated.

“Thanks Miguel,” You said before you headed back to the living room and sat down next to Gabi.

She leaned into your shoulder and whispered, “He’s totally into you.”

Your eyes widened and you checked to make sure Miguel was still in the hallway. You pressed a finger to her mouth and shook your head, “Nope. Nada. Zip. Don’t even start on this.”

Miguel sat down on her other side and the two began talking as you tried to keep your heated cheeks from view. You opened the book in front of you and began to look through it. There were so many photos of her as a baby and you couldn’t help but to feel devastated at the possible loss of your daughter.

Why would Miguel let her stay with you? How was she supposed to manage traveling through different universes and maintain a normal teenage life?

You flipped through the pages, holding your bottom lip firmly between your teeth in fear of losing the best thing you’d ever had. You wanted her to have a relationship with her dad, but that didn’t mean you wanted her gone forever.

You gently set the books on the table after flipping past a picture of Gabi as a little girl with a replica of her dad’s mask pulled over her head. You stood from your spot on the couch and mustered up your best smile, but not meeting either of their eyes, “Sorry, I just need some air.”

“Mom? You okay?” Gabi asked with a worried voice.

You knew if you met her eyes you’d lose all of your self control and burst into tears. You nodded and headed towards the balcony door, “Yeah, I just need a minute.”

You opened the door, shot a web, and pulled yourself to the roof. You let out a shaky breath as you plopped onto the roof and looked out at the city. Pulling your knees to your chest, you rested your chin on your knees and looked out at Nueva York. This universe was beautiful.

The city always calmed you, but now it was a reminder of everything you could lose.

Some time had passed when you heard a thwip similar to your own and there was a thud on the roof behind you. You closed your eyes in anticipation of the bad news Miguel was about to bring you. He quietly sat next to you at the edge of the roof and hung his feet over the ledge.

“She’s worried about you,” Miguel said, looking over at your tense form.

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I’m okay.”

“Tell me about her,” He asked, looking out at the sun setting over the city.

You tried to keep your sniffles at bay as you spoke, “She’s incredibly smart and way too intuitive for her own good.”

Miguel chuckled at your words and you moved your eyes to him as he said, “She always got into trouble when she was little because she was like that.”

You smiled softly at his words and let your knees hang over the edge, “She gets in trouble in some of her classes because she outsmarts her teachers. Can’t be mad at that.”

Miguel watched as you began to open up and relax as you talked about Gabi. You were too good for anything he deserved, but maybe you were meant to be here with him. Maybe Gabi was meant to bring you together.

Maybe the rules of the multiverse were a little more lenient than he thought.

“She’s a super talented soccer player. She still young, but some college scouts have been watching her play and showed interest. She’s just a great kid. You raised an amazing daughter,” You said, looking at him with a smile.

He bumped your shoulder with his own as his lips slightly curled up, “You did too y’know.”

Your eyes slightly widened at his words and your voice caught in your throat, “I-I’m glad you can be together again. I really am.”

“But?” He asked, his dark eyes seeing through your walls.

Tears welled up, but you blinked quickly to get them to go away, “But I don’t want to lose her either. She’s my daughter now too.”

He stayed quiet as you began to ramble, “I know being outside of your universe can mess things up, but she’s been fine. She never glitched or had any issues in my universe. Don’t you think that’s a sign-“

“That she could be a part of both of our universes,” Miguel finished for you and you nodded.

Miguel swallowed down his own nerves and placed his hand on yours and gently squeezed it, “I just want her to be happy. I don’t think taking her away from her mom would do that.”

Your heart leapt at his words as you gripped his hand, “Seriously? You’d be okay with splitting time with me?”

Miguel chuckled and smiled at you, “I don’t think splitting is the right word. I’m thinking more along the lines of figuring this out together.”

Your cheeks lit up and you smiled at him, “I’d like that. We can finally be the PTA parents she alway deserved.”

You and Miguel shared a moment where you just looked at one another and things began to change. You were going to figure out this parenting thing together.

“Are you guys done being sappy up there! I’m getting bored down here,” Gabi shouted from Miguel’s apartment.

The two of you shared a look and laughed at your daughter. Miguel shook his head as he called out, “You’re in the clear.”

You heard metal clinging as Gabi climbed to the top of the fire escape and hopped onto the roof. She smiled at you and Miguel sitting next to each other as she walked over and plopped herself between you two. She grabbed both of your hands into her own and looked at you both, “We’re a team, right? The whole solo superhero thing is such a bad idea. We work better together.”

You both shared a look before laughing at her. You brushed some hair behind her ear, “We’re a team. But that still doesn’t mean you get to be the guy in the chair for either of us.”

Gabi rolled her eyes and looked to her dad, “You gonna defend me here?”

Miguel smiled at his daughter, “Listen to your mom mija.”

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman

[luvlyhyunjin]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Thirty-One - Wish you could stay.

warnings; smut (degrading names, fingering and thigh riding) and as always sprinkles of angst. playlist: lust for life by lana del rey

p.s pls ignore any spelling errors or grammar errors i'm a little delirious

w.c: 6k

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Time seemed to be your enemy, swearing to leave you suffering in a puddle of your own arousal. It moves agonizingly slow. Taunting you with a smirk of victory every time you looked at your phone only for it to stay the same.

“I just want us to go back to the way we used to be, you know?” Wooyoung speaks from next you, sitting side by side in one of his comfy cream colored couch. The almost empty bottle of wine on the table is the only evidence of time ever ticking by. You’re not insane just yet.

“I want that too,” you reply, not as genuine as you would like to be. Not because you didn’t want it but because your attention is stolen by another certain someone.

“But Yeosang is making it harder than I’d like.” You continue in a distant voice, eyes on the lit screen of your phone. Just 11 more minutes. Wooyoung huffs, head falling back on the couch, looking stressed enough to get a glimpse of your attention “I tried to talk some sense into him the other day. Hopefully that did something to his brain.”

“I hope so too.”

Wooyoung dawns the rest of his remaining wine, placing his empty glass right next to your full one. A comfortable silence fills the dark room and is immediately interrupting by the sound of a message coming from your phone. Your hand gravitas towards it right away.

I’m outside.

Two simple words have your heart skipping beats as if you’re on the verge of dying.

“Well, I better head home,” you announce, standing up from the couch and Wooyoung follows. Guiding you to the door with a yawn falling from his lips “Lover boy is already here?” You slap his chest with little to no impact behind it “He’s not my lover,” you defend weakly, a pink blush already coloring your cheeks.

“Uh huh,” he muses, leaning on the wall as he watches you put your shoes back on. You stay silent, letting yourself dwell over the word a little longer than what would your heart deem safe.

Lover. Could Hyunjin ever be your lover after everything you guys have been through?

“Take this it’s freezing outside.” Wooyoung voice pulls you out of your thoughts again, dangling in front of you like a hook you so desperately cling to. Just so you don’t give room for false hope to plant itself inside of you.

You look at the piece of clothing that’s being offered to you, a simple blue jacket that you have seen on Wooyoung multiple times. It reeks of his signature Dior cologne. Masculine and thick. Hyunjin’ texts from a couple of days ago swirls around in your mind, cosplays itself into temptations and dares you to take it.

Don’t you dare come out in his fucking clothes.

“Thank you.” You nod, taking the jacket from his hands and putting it on, it hangs loosely around your shoulders. Too big for you and Wooyoung grins at you.

If you were going to meet up with the devil might as well have him take you on a trip to hell.

“Take care Kitty,” his hand ruffles your hair, leaving your dark hair a mess atop of your head “you too puppy” you reply, a pinch to his cheek has him slapping your hand away with a groan.

Hyunjin is waiting outside, minho’s motorcycle that he seems to drive more than said owner is used again as leverage for him to lean on. His arms are crossed on his chest. His expression is stoic as if he himself has not been counting the minutes just to see you. As if he hadn’t come here 15 minutes early and waited for you like a kid. A twitch of his brows is the only given of annoyance he lets break free.

Hyunjin feels something akin to a monster he tried to keep locked break free inside of him. Perhaps he underestimated you, didn’t expect his angel to join in this game of push and pull you always seem to fall into. The monster feeds on the sight of you in a jacket that so clearly doesn’t belong to you, doesn’t fit you. It sinks its claw in his soul, spreading anger in his veins.

“Come here, pretty.” He taunts like the sweet devil he is, eyes narrowing as they flick to Wooyoung who’s watching you from behind. He’s being ridiculous, he realizes that. But this monster latched itself onto him like a parasite. And maybe he was a showoff, maybe he wanted to show Wooyoung how he takes back what belongs to him and that’s why he outstretched his palm out to you, offering his hand for you take.

He knows you will come to him; you always do. However, he does not expect you to run to him. He does not expect you to throw yourself at him like you’re offering, and he does not expect you to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. The scent of wooyoung’s cologne chokes him, nausea builds quickly in the pit of his stomach. The monster tells him to rip it off you.

“Jinnie.” You breathe out in his neck, your voice is a sweet melody that manages to steal his breath every single time. He’s dizzied even when his hands fall naturally to your waist, even when he’s pulling you closer to him as if he wants to blend your bodies together. His mind is racing because you never initiated physical touch before this. All these past weeks he has been the one to touch you first, hands lingering everywhere on your body. Leaving the ghost of his fingers on your skin.

“Missed me?” he asks, voice thick with emotions and throat running dry. He needs to drink you in.

“I did,” you answer truthfully. Leaning back just enough to look up at him with a smile adorning your beautiful face. He keeps his expression cold, eyes fliting to the messy strands of your hair, another painful evidence of wandering hands that had touch you “mhm,” his fingers run through your hair, taming them back into place and you lean into his touch. Warmth spreads in your blood warning of the love threatening to poison you. You don’t listen and your nose nuzzles Hyunjin’s cheek. Behind you, Wooyoung walks back into his apartment complex with slumped shoulders.

The ride to your house is quiet, no room for words over the roaring engine of the motorcycle. You keep your palm sprawled on the right side of his chest, atop of his heart. It beats under your hand and as you’re hugging his back an overwhelmingly selfish need wash over you. You wish his heart wouldn’t beat this way for anyone aside from you. An enormous urge to steal his heart away, maybe hide it in a chest and bury it in a spot no one knows aside from you. It feels like the only way you’d ever find security.

The end was inevitable. Your time with Hyunjin was like a ticking clock casting a shadow over you, constantly reminding you of how you’re running out of time. How Hyunjin is only growing further away from you and all you could do is stand still and wait. Wait for him to someday look back at you and walk back to you. And even when he does the clock resets itself. It’s just another round of unavoidable pain for you, fuck ups that will only bury your feet deeper into this beach of sand you can’t leave. You welcome it, each time. You sacrifice your heart, pretending to be the strongest soldier of an army that only involves you. And Hyunjin will chew on your heart sweetly, sink his teeth into it until you’re bleeding and leaving you in disarray.

Just like when you’re eighteen you’ll let go of him first. He’ll cry but soon enough he’ll be walking away and just like that you go back to your place, standing alone on the beach of your memories and you wait. You wait for the clock to restart and another round of misery to unleash itself at you. But you’ll welcome it.

As if sensing your distress Hyunjin’s hand is on your thigh when you stop by a red light, Large and warm, his fingers sink into the plump flesh of your clad thigh. He looks back at you over his shoulder. The visor of his helmet deprives you of what kind of expression he’s making. He squeezes your thigh as if he knows as if he’s asking.

Are you okay?

You find yourself wishing you weren’t this mess of unspoken words, you wish weren’t this being of immense anxiety that never seems to settle down, never seems satisfied. If only you weren’t egocentric enough to constantly crave more from the boy in front of you. Your palm is on top of his, squeezing back.

I’m okay.

The street of your house is quiet and dimly lit by the countless streetlights cosplaying itself as a path, to them it’s heaven and to you it’s nothing but hell. You loiter by Hyunjin’s back, taking faux interest in the dying flowers at your front porch. Hyunjin watches you as if it’s his favorite hobby, as if he’s admiring his favorite piece of art and he isn’t in the middle of a space he doesn’t belong to. He is motionless, doesn’t say anything as if to punish you for all the little shit you pulled tonight.

Your top teeth sink into your bottom lip swallowing back a whimper of guilt that’s begging to escape. Lured by the ice in his eyes. Your fingers curl around his, your warmth overtakes him “You wanna come in?” you ask with a tilt of your head, he isn’t sure if the color in your cheeks is left there by the cold or if you’re blushing. Hyunjin pretends to think, tilts his head in a mirroring manner to yours and keeps his gaze locked on you. He stalls, eyes hooded as he watches you grow more anxious by the second. You’re fidgeting as if you’re slowly breaking, your nails start to dig into his palm leaving red marks behind. It’s so sweet, even your impatient anger is sweet.

“What about your parents?”

“They’re probably sleeping,” your stare flit across your large house, darkening windows are a comfort to your assumption “we have just to be quiet.”

Hyunjin tugs you forward with your hand, your chest collides with his and he’s so close, his lips are so close “yeah? You think you can do that?” your eyes flicker to his lips as if it’s where it was always supposed to be “can you be quiet?” he sarcastically asks, clearly not looking for an answer by the way, his lips curl into a smirk. The dampness of your underwear is only a reminder of the effect this man has on you.

“I can be quiet.” You whisper, your voice alone is enough to melt mountains of ice in his heart, but he keeps his demeanor the same. The mutual understanding of what those words exactly mean swim between you two. Tempting him to take you against the back of his motorcycle, fuck you in the open and not care if some old rich lady comes out of one those houses and calls the cops on him. Going to jail for fucking you sounds fitting. 

“Sure then,” he replies with a non-committal shrug. A vagueness he hopes to have you overthinking just so he could take place in your mind.

You take him by surprise once again when you intertwine your fingers with his and tug him towards the door with a smile that’s too pretty for the situation you are in. He finds himself breathless, wondering how you manage to do it. How are you both soft and alluring. How are you the cause of the fastening oscillation of his heart and the poisons treat of his darkening desires.

Hyunjin places himself on your bed comfortably, as if he belongs there. His palms are flat on the bed as he leans back. Eyes feral and heavy as you stand by the door awkwardly as if this isn’t your room. As if you’re an intruder. Hyunjin tilts his head, his legs spreading wide apart as if it’s calling for you.

“Come here, pretty.” He whispers an order in the quietness of your room. A mischievous glint sets his dark eyes alight as the blush spreading across your face deepens.

“Take that fucking jacket off.” He snarls when you take two steps towards him. A rush of heat blooms in your underwear at his tone, fiery and dominate. You nod, eyes wide in innocence that only fuels him further. You shrug the jacket off you in quick movements. Suddenly growing exceedingly hot. The fabric burns your skin as it falls on the floor right next to your feet.

Hyunjin looks somewhat satisfied at how fast you listen to him, with his silence you take permission to walk to him. You stand before him, looking down at him through your thick lashes. Emotions fighting against each other on which one gets to display itself on your face. Love is stronger than anything you’ve ever wished to feel. Despite the growing warmth of your body, the wetness collecting uncomfortably against the fabric of your underwear. Leaving clear evidence of your hunger for Hyunjin. Love still wins, climbs on top and spreads its tenderness on your face. Its softness in the flickers of color in your eyes.

Hyunjin sees it all, basks in your ever building devotion for him, his own obsession finds its way between the cracks of your innocence and nestles itself there, promises to imprint himself on your soul just so you won’t ever look at someone the way you’re looking at him right now.

“Sit.” His large hand envelopes the side of your hip, warm and possessive as it adds unnecessary heat to your already burning body. He tugs you with a guide towards his thigh and you follow, straddling it. Your arms find their way around his neck, as if they always have waited for this moment. Waited to take their claim on the blonde boy you always seemed to yearn for.

Hyunjin’s hand travels from your hips to your hair, leaving goosebumps to bloom behind, an arch in your back that has his eyes hooded. He brushes through the soft strands of your hair taking his sweet time as you start to squirm on his lap. The pressure of his thigh against your clothed sex is driving you insane. He finds it entertaining; you can tell.

“Ah! You cry out in both pain and surprise when his hand tugs at your hair, the stinging pain spreads through your skull leaving behind a delicious wave of arousal that settles in the pit of your stomach.

“You think this is funny?” he muses, no need to explain what he’s talking about because you know. You always know. Your mouth waters at the way his mouth hardness, a betrayal of the imitation indifference he likes to wear. You shake your head, as best as you can in the hold he has on your hair. He tugs harder and you mewl, looking at him with watering eyes.

“No?” he tuts, jutting his bottom lip in a mocking pout that is quickly replaced with a knife-like stare “talk.” You let out a shaky breath, hyper aware of his hands on you, in your hair. His thigh against your cunt. Your legs shake in aching need for him.

“I-it’s not funny.” You answer with a broken whimper when his fingers loosen their grip on your strands. Leaving your body completely to resume their original position on the bed. He watches in amusement as your hands scramble to hold onto him, your nails digging in his clothed shoulders. He wishes you could dig them in his bare skin.

“You’re pathetic, you know that right?” Hyunjin scoffs, addressing your poor attempts at making him jealous, misplaced hope to get a reaction out of him. You avoid his eyes, turning your face when the eye contact only seems to water your already growing humiliation.

He slightly bounces his leg earning a breathy gasp from your parted lips, so pretty it makes him dizzy. You lose your grip on sanity, the need for him overwhelms your senses and your hips start to move against his thigh, rolling into the rough fabric between you. The sensations are so dulled by your clothes, the pressure on your core is barely there, it tips you even further into insanity.

Hyunjin chuckles, humorless and cruel. Trying to be a villain he will never be “Acting like a bitch in heat. Grinding against my thigh while I’m still talking, are you that desperate?” you shake your head, can’t make sense of what exactly you’re denying at this point. Hyunjin hums absentmindedly, his fingers thumb at the button of your shirt “What did you and Wooyoung talk about all night?” he unbuttons the first one giving you room for your breathing to deepen. Your hips increase in speed, running after a release that seems to be slipping further and further away. You whine in frustration not registering a word that has come out of his mouth.

He bounces his leg again, sending wave of shock to your core, has your hips stuttering  with a soft moan. It’s cut off by his hand tapping lightly against your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to have you dripping. You open your eyes to look at his colder ones, tears of impatience cloud your vision. But not enough for them to spill.

“What?” You sputter, pink splashing across your face like spilled wine.

“What did you and Wooyoung talk about? Tell me.” He thumbs at your second button; the lace of your bra teases him with a chant to take you. Your hips halt their movement, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as to why he’s bringing this up now.

Hyunjin can’t help himself, can’t help the urge that nudges the monster inside of him any longer. Lurching forwards he buries his face in your chest, the scent of your bodywash engulfs him, washing over the disgusting cologne that had cling to your button up shirt. His hands are back on your hips, a bruising grip that guides you back and forth. Encouraging you to keep going.

“I’m being so nice, kitty. Letting you use me like this” he speaks against your skin; it vibrates through your whole being. His warm breath leaving shivers all over your body “the least you could do is answer me yeah?” he hums, placing an open mouth kissed right at the top of your breasts. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulder, scrunching up the fabric of his grey jacket under your fingers.

“A-a lot.” You answer vaguely, stupidly hoping that it will end then. It doesn’t

“Like what?” He continues his trail of assaulting kisses up your neck, the sounds only add fuel to the fire inside of you. He sucks particularly hard at the side of your neck, and you turn your head with a mewl. Allowing him space, hoping for a mark to be left behind.

“W-we talked about- ah” he bites your earlobe with a grin, pulls it just to watch the way your eyes flutter shut prettily “about Yeosang.”

“What about him?” His tone is monotone, despite the trail of blossoming cherry blossoms he leaves on your neck. The loving touch of his hands as they climb up to your bra. Toying with the clasp. You can’t think straight you feel like everything shouldn’t feel this intense, this tortures.

“Hyunjin.” you plea.

“You’re not hiding stuff from me, are you?” he warns, his fingers expertly unclasping your bra.

“I’m not,” you whimper with a shake of your head, the cold overwhelms you, has your nipples hardening and you throw yourself forward, hugging him and burying your face in his neck. Hyunjin’s fingers dance across your back, unaware of the lie you just added to your darkening chest.

“Just said he’s sorry,” you mumble, your hips starting to grow tired. Your pussy pulses in arousal, begging for his touch.

With a hand around your hip, he flips you over, off his lap and instead your back meets the silk sheets of your bed. The scent of powder and jasmine spreads around you. Your dark hair is splayed out around you, in contrast to the white sheets. The moonlight illuminates your features. Makes the unshed tears in your sparkle like diamonds, stealing his breath away with their beauty. You’re a sight to behold, your white button up still hangs on you, and you look nothing like a human but more like an ethereal creature. An angel that has descended from heaven just for him.

Hyunjin halts his movements, hooking his leg over your body. His gaze trails over you, appreciative, and your own drinks him in. watching him with eager and big eyes. Dripping with nothing but vulnerability and adoration for him. He wonders if he’s growing addicted to your pristine vulnerability or just the existence of you, needing him.

His hand reaches for you, cupping your cheek and you, just like he had always imagined lean into his touch, turning your head to place a tender kiss to the palm of his hand. It has his heart swelling with affection in his chest. He is once again astounded by you, by the effect you have on him and by your ability to have his heart chanting your name over and over again like no other woman in this world exists. Or your ability to have his cock hard and heavy in the tight space of his boxers, like he could explode just at the sight of your hard nipples. He swipes his thumb underneath your nipple, teasing despite the dryness of his throat.

You arch your back into him. For him and Hyunjin is confused, doesn’t know if he should lean into his love or lust.

“Hyunjin please.” Your whimper, tone laced with need and desperation pulls him out of his trance. A calling to remind him that he doesn’t have to daydream about you anymore. Because the real thing is under him right now.

“Please what angel?” his tongue swipes against his bottom lip, adding misery to your already dreading torture.

“Please touch me.” Your eyes implore into his, a broken edge to your voice has satisfaction spreading its wings in his chest.

“Where do you want me to touch?” he teases with a quirk of his lips that makes you want to cry “show me,” your smaller hand circles his wrist, trailing his hand across your body. Over your chest and down your stomach leaving a burning sensation behind. He swallows when you stop his hand right at the top of your jeans. Eyes pleading for him.

“Good girl.” His voice is heavy, words almost slurring together like he could taste you in the air. Lips smacking together in a passing thought as he tugs at your jeans, it goes with ease along with your underwear.

A warmth envelope your chest at his words, spreading across your chest and hugging your heart. It’s quickly washed away by a deep embarrassment once you realize how quickly exposed you have suddenly become while Hyunjin still remains fully clothed. Despite the overflowing wetness between your legs, your need for him. You close your legs with a whimper.

Hyunjin’s hands are meticulous on your knees, ignoring your voices as he pulls them apart. His eyes are on your core, your pink cunt spread for him. Glistening and it’s perfect. Prettier than anything he ever imagined. You’re dripping on your sheets, already making a mess of yourself when he has barely touched you. It has his ego skyrocketing, licking his lips in overwhelming hunger.

You’re such a mess, his mess.

“you’re so wet angel,” you whine, embarrassed by the fact that he isn’t doing anything, that he just stills and stares you down. Drowning you in his cold torture. Your hands come to cover your face unable to keep eye contact. Despite his disapproval he doesn’t tell you to do otherwise. His cold finger trails over your drenched folds, collecting your wetness with the pad of his finger. Your body attempts to chase after him, clenching around nothing in anticipation. Hyunjin pushes your hips down, bringing his finger to his mouth and keeps his hooded eyes on you that is peeking at him through your hands.

He moans at your taste, eyes rolling back. It has your chest heaving; your hands fall from your face at the way he crumbles so easily for you “You taste so good baby.” His tone lowers into a whisper, igniting the fire building inside of you once again.

“Please jinnie,” you find yourself begging once again, not sure for what exactly. For him, for anything to settle you down. Your face crumbles pleadingly when he keeps staring at you like he’s not in a rush, like he has all night. And that was all what it took for your frustration to finally snap. Collecting itself into tears in your eyes and the spill slowly over your cheeks. You’re overwhelmed yet not feeling anything enough, it only fuels him further, sends him right into the lap of the monster that seems to feed off your tears.

“Shh it’s okay,” Hyunjin collects your tears with the pad of his fingers, tone conceding in comparison to the softness that lingers in his touch. His fingers trail down to your plush lips, prodding them open “suck.” His half-lidded eyes stare back down at you and you comply. Tongue swirling around his fingers.

Hyunjin feels his jeans grow tighter around him as if that was possible. The sight of your tear-streaked face with his fingers in your mouth almost has him coming right then. He wishes he had his phone right now, take a pretty picture of you and save it for later.

“Such a good slut for me, aren’t you?” he preens inside when you nod your head incessantly, moaning around his fingers as if they were a strawberry flavored lollipop. Spit drips down the side of your lips and Hyunjin leans down, licking it.

Pulling his drenched fingers from your tempting mouth, he trails them down to your pussy, his thumb pressing into your clit, unmoving.

“You want it?” he whispers right on top of your lips, inches away and kisses at a tear that manages to escape your eyes “I-I want it,” you whimper, your breath fanning over his face. He keeps his eyes on you, fliting across your feature when he finally, finally lets his finger slip inside of you. He growls lowly at how wet you are, at the way your hole swallows his finger hungrily. You moan loudly, head thrown back as your own fingers tangle themselves into his blonde locks.

“More.” You plead; your breathing deepens as your hips rock back against his fingers in desperation. He complies, slipping two more fingers. The stretch burns so good, has your mouth falling agape in a silent moan. Eyebrows knitted and lashes fluttering. He’s completely enamored by you. By your sounds, your reaction. His own breathing uneven, matching yours. He can’t look away, can’t dare to miss the sweat rolling down your forehead.

“Feels good?” his noses along your cheek, his fingers start moving faster and deeper inside of you. It turns your brain to mush, has you melting right into your sheets. Your tongue forgets its purpose and you’re unable to say anything back as if your words have been stolen away by him. You only nod with a mewl, you rock feverishly against his fingers, your orgasm building at the speed of light.

His gaze is dark upon you, watching you lose your sanity for him has him drowning in his own lust, cock heavy between his legs. It burns a hole on the right side of your face.

“You’re gonna come?” his voice more than a whisper yet it manages to tighten the knot forming in your tummy “please,” he doesn’t even need to tell you to beg, you just do it. Desperate for the release you’ve been waiting for.

“You think you deserve it?” you sob, more tears rolling down your pink cheeks, you’re so close so close to falling apart, you could taste it on your tongue “please I’m sorry” you pathetically mutter, grabbing at whatever words your brain throws at you in hope that it will redeem your mishaps, in hope that it will soften Hyunjin’s heart. He chuckles lowly, impressed by how pathetic you sound when he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He still decides to be merciful “come for me, princess.” His voice clear and deep.

You throw your head back, mouth completely open and your core tightens around his fingers. Pleasure washes over your entire body as you come with a loud whine. A sweet song he listens to religiously. He wishes to burn the sight of you coming into his brain, he needs to record it, wants to reply it over and over again. The need overwhelms him, his throat growing dry as he stares at you trying to catch your breath.

You stare back, the eye contact makes your face burn. Your fingers brush at hairs at the nape of his neck, your nose bumps into his chin “thank you.” You mumble sweetly, airy. He thumbs at the abandoned tears at the corner of your eyes. His lips gravitas towards your own and the lust swimming in you dissipates, replaced with a silent desperation for his kiss. You lean closer to him, hoping for him to close the distance, for him to end another misery of yours that only exists because of him.

He lingers, stares at you as if he’s searching for the truth behind the blatant lies you spill endlessly.

“Y/N?” both of you freeze, the bubble of arousal and overwhelming loving explodes abruptly around you. The sound of your mother has your eyes widening “Y-Yes mommy?” you call back, Hyunjin shakes his head at you in confusion and you shrug.

“What’s going on? I heard voices.” Your heart picks up speed in panic, you push Hyunjin off from on top of you and he goes with ease. Eyes comically wide in terror. You quickly discard the shirt on you to the floor, grabbing one of your robes and wrapping it around yourself.

“Wait for me.” You mouth to Hyunjin who only nods back, seeming to be in a daze. You unlock your door, walking out and closing it behind you to see your mom’s figure down the dark corridor “What are you doing?” She questions, hair ruffled and voice thick with sleep. You stare at her dumbfoundedly. Grateful for the dark as it helps you conceal the aftermath of your orgasm “Nothing.”

“Why are you awake? It’s 3 am” her tone is suspicious, eyes flickering to your closed bedroom door “I was asleep, but I had a nightmare that’s all.” Your lie is childlike, you realize and maybe if your mom wasn’t so sleepy she would have caught on but that along with the faux indifference in your tone seem enough to convince her. She nods at you and mumbles something about going back to sleep. You let out a breath of relief when she turns around and walks away.

“Sorry about that. She’s gone.” You say to Hyunjin once you’re in your room, closing your door behind you and locking it. His eyes flicker between your hand and your face, a smile on his face. So charming it has you falling in love all over again. You wonder how many times is it possible to fall for the same person.

He’s sitting by the edge of your bed, legs spread open like an earlier scene “it’s okay.” He assures you and you swallow back nothing. Throwing yourself into your bed, face down. you huff.

Hyunjin chuckles, it vibrates through the walls of your heart. Pulling at your heartstrings.

“Sorry we couldn’t… you know.” You trail off awkwardly, peeking at him with the corner of your eyes and he shakes his head dismissively “It’s okay. I’m not fond of fucking you when your parents are down the hall.” His hand is in your hair, brushing strands away from your face. He doesn’t want anything to block you from watching him. He wants to be able to watch you back, when you’re moaning and when you’re tired, falling into a rare kind of softness.

You try not to think about the fact that those same fingers were inside you not long ago, it has your thighs clenching together and you chastise yourself for your endless hunger.

“Why did you not want to hang out with us today? Was it because of Yeji?” You don’t expect him to speak and when he does you don’t expect it to be this. An ember of curiosity swims in his eyes. This is a forwardness in this Hyunjin that you’re not used to. You were used to the old Hyunjin, the avoidant Hyunjin. The one you used to have an endless game of mouse and cat with.

You’re almost bitter at the fact he changed and you haven’t.

“Partly.” You lie through your teeth, sitting back next to him and his body welcomes you. Molds itself to make space for you “why do you hate her? Did something that I’m unaware of happen between you?”

Hate. Such a strong word that you wish to plaster on every feeling coursing through your body. You wish for it to be this easy. But it isn’t and anything you feel is nowhere close to hate.

“I don’t hate her. She just makes me uncomfortable.” You pull another lie, opening up another chest to bury this one in. One isn’t enough anymore. The mountain of unspoken words only seems to grow bigger between you.

“Do you think you could try next time? For me?” he hums, a hand cradling your cheek in a sweet manner, like a sweet lover you will never get the chance to have. Your time with him will run out before then.

 “I want you guys to get along.” He adds and his tone is gentle, soft and more than anything hopeful. You blame him for your endless lies that seem to tumble out whenever you’re around him “Okay.” Hyunjin smiles and leans down to place a kiss to your cheek “Thank you, pretty.” You keep silent, leaning your head on his shoulder. Silence fills the room and Hyunjin fingers play with yours. You drown in your misery, guilt seeps into your blood and you wonder if being in love would ever be good enough of a defense against your malicious acts. When they finally catch up with you, what kind of betrayal would Hyunjin wear? when he finds out who you really are. When he unravels the ugliness, you hide.

How long do you have till then?

“I wish you could stay with me forever Hyunjin.” You don’t look up to see the softness that breaks into his features, the hopeful glint you had killed when you were eighteen is there again.

“Me too Angel.” He says back so easily.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Taglist: @annybah , @christopherisfoive , @realrintaro , @kkamismom12 , @nujeskz , @wolfietara , @luvvvash , @pnkcasket, @asiixc , @shyshyshytwice , @samhomo , @babrieeee , @nhyunn , @enzstr , @idontlikecoffeeortea , @feelikecinderella , @not-very-slay-of-you , @linocvp1d , @amarecerasus , @itgirlalisaa , @babrieeee , @arikazu , @hyundumpling , @skzhoes , @cupkiki , @avokralaim , @hyunenenenenennenenehs , @super-btstrash-posts , @mellhwang , @kaiyaba , @hyunjinloverrrr , @finnbbl , @rockyhedgehog , @heyhaez , @anjian03 , @jihanniee

(bold can't be tagged please remember to check your settings so i can tag you!)

#hyunjin angst #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smau #hyunjin imagines #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz smau #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids smau #hyunjin social media au #hyunjin fake texts #skz social media au #skz fake texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids social media au #hyunjin series #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #hyunjin au #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Feb 26th

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1. hi, would like to ask if you know of any fic about the sunshot campaign after a failed golden core transfer. thank you :)

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending) IDK about failed transfer, but this is a Time Travel AU where WQ travels back to when she was performing the transfer & refuses to go through with it

~*~

2. Hello! I have been reading a fic where the elder Lan Wangji Hanguang Jun time travels into the past time in Cloud Recess during the time when his Younger self and Wwx were studying

And then wwx is all over the older Hanguang Jun fawning and fussing .

Fic like Vinegar Jug by Dandelion Sun .

Or something similar coded. @lostsoul234

💖 Hanguang-jun’s Husband by lilacevergarden (alittlemorecreative) (T, 6k, wangxian, time travel, bullying ur younger versions, jealous wwx)

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, first love, love confessions, fluff & humor, denial, pining, happy ending)  

~*~

3. Tysm Mods for all you do to accommodate and keep up with these asks and recs. As well as all your efforts in keeping up this site. We all appreciate it very much.❤️❤️🥰

But, here’s the ittmf ask. I’m looking for longer fics, (30k+ words) for modern cultivation aus. I’m looking for something like the societies portrayed in Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! byKizuKatana or All Old Things are New Again byThe Feels Whale (miscellea) would be great, but just give me what you’ve got. I’m hungry for more, does anyone have any good ones? @omgnectarina

I feel like I win when I lose by so_shhy (T, 25k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Sports AU, Getting Together, some semblance of a plot, gently implied 3zun, obsessively observing someone from a distance is super romantic, LWJ pls use your words, really WWX cannot be blamed for obliviousness in this one, WC causing trouble, WN is precious, Fluff, Podfic Available)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

🔒 close the door behind me, i'm leaving by thelastdboy (M, 3k, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, Madam Lan & LWJ, Modern Cultivation, Canon Divergence, POV LWJ, Character Study, Coming of Age, Past Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Neurodiversity, Autism Spectrum, Situational Mutism, Hurt No Comfort)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) Idk how close these are to what OP wants, but I've been reading a lot of Modern Cultivation fics recently, so here's my fave so far

something wicked by isabilightwood (T, 13k, wangxian, modern with magic, coffee shop AU, Animal Transformation Curse, Bunji, LWJ is a Talking Bunji, True Love’s Kiss, Specifically the Same Type of Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Jealous WWX, WWX attempts to set LWJ up on dates, LWJ is not having it, WWX is an empath but he’s bad at telling how people feel about him, Friends to Lovers, Moms and WCZ Live, blink and you’ll miss it implied 3zun, Werewolf Baker WN, extremely mild angst, Fluff, minor background WQ/JYL/JZX, Halloween)

The Curse Breaker by NebulusCharlie (Not rated, 34k, wangxian, Curses, soft and fluffy WangXian, past mistakes, school of Cultivation, modern with magic, Definitely a happy ending, not much angst)

Extracts from the diaries of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, relating to the case of Lan Zetian (Nov. 4 to Nov. 27) by Accidental_Child (T, 6k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Case Fic, Epistolaryish, Diary/Journal, WWX-centric, LWJ-centric, Slow Burn, (academic), Enemies to Lovers, academic rivals to Lovers, Mentions of Murder, mentions of abuse, mentions of assult)

And you must keep your soul/ Like a secret in your throat by athena_crikey (E, 48k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Vampire WWX, Cultivator LWJ, Case Fic, hur/comfort, Angst, Falling In Love, First Time, Reference to Torture)

那些年错过的大雨 (Nàxiē nián cuòguò de dàyǔ | The heavy rain we missed in those years) by PorcupineGirl (E, 29k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, Modern Cultiovation, Secret Identity, Wangxian Reunion, Dual Cultivation, Sorta kinda soulmates, but not a soulmate au, Consensual Non-Consent, Explicit Consent, Dom/sub, dom LWJ, sub WWX, Wangxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, No Golden Core Transfer, discussion of mental health issues, WWX & LSZ reunion, Scheming NHS, NHS is Sir Not-Appearing-in-This-Fic (except for how his fingerprints are all over it), Content Warnings in Chapter Notes, no lube we die like WWX's asshole)

~*~

4. I've read a few fics with this lovely concept, but may I have more recs with talisman-genius wwx? getting rich/admired as a result of that is a welcome bonus! thank you💚

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 762k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The ultimate Talisman Genius WWX Gets Recognition fic

🧡 One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It’s There) by H_Belle (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Pining LWJ, POV WWX, Background Wangxian Getting Together, Jiangs are only mentioned in the passing, inspired by a tumblr post)

💙🔒 Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending) 

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 46k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Time Travel Fix-It, JC Bashing, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Bashing Jiāng Family Bashing, YZY Bashing, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, Wooing, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, frankencanon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gūsū Lán Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not adopted by Jiangs, developing friendships, miscommunication, misunderstangings, nightmares, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, WWX’s fear of dogs, slow burn, cultivation world bureaucracy)

~*~

5. this is for itmf! (no wips)

A. bottomji fics please

B. fics w lots of cuddling, soft fics (post- canon preferably, but anything is good!!)

5A)

do with me what spring does with cherry trees by jalpari (E, 34k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, No War AU, Bottom LWJ, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Idiots in Love, Touch-Starved LWJ)

this bed of love by YaYa (Terabyte_my_ass) (E, 4k, wangxian, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Tender Sex, super sensitive LWJ, Blink and you miss it humiliation kink, and a little bit of praise kink, First Time Bottoming, Bottom LWJ, POV LWJ, Coming Untouched)

Respectable, Decent, and Quiet by Theotrix (E, 5k, wangxian, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, repressed LWJ, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Loud Sex, Emotional release, How about instead of more rules you get your disciples some therapy)

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

To Know, To Be Known by cqlorphan (E, 38k, wangxian, PWP, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Cock Warming, Multiple Orgasms, Marathon Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, let lwj get railed agenda, LWJ Learns Some Things about himself, sex tears, gratuitous use of names, Begging, Kink Discovery, Post-Canon, Top LWJ, Bottom WWX, Switching, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Let wwx get tied up but also let lwj railed, Repressed LWJ, Inventor WWX, Cock Rings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, begging, talking about feelings, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Dildos, Rimming, Edging) link in #15

~*~

6. my first time sending an ask! this is for the i’m in a mood for thing, i wanted fics where xue yang ends up in the burial mounds and/or becoming wwx’s protégé, like canon divergence where he isn’t like a full spawn of evil

no one ever said the single-plank bridge had to be walked alone by rosemu (T, 124k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect au, Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Fluff, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Slow Burn, LWJ and WWX get to be Dads together, the healing power of homoerotic flute/guqin duets, Happy Ending) XY is sent to the Burial Mounds to spy for JGY, becomes WWX's student & switches sides, is still snarky without being evil

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7. Hi! I’m in the mood for fics where WWX comes back in MXYs body but it’s absolute canon divergence from there. Thanks for all your help! @empress-of-elsewhere

Home isn't Where the Heart is. by Hauntcats (Not rated, 7k, wangxian) Technically already an AU before WWX came back, since LWJ noped out of the Lans while he was dead, but might still count for the request

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

~*~

8. heyyy, do yall have a cross dressing comp.?? if not can u rec some (or put this in itmf?)

My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed (T, 26k, WangXian, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Crossdressing, Idiots in Love, Sharing a Bed, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

Wei Wuxian, Who’s That? by bumbledees (T, 48k, wangxian, crossdressing, pining, sibling feels)

we’ll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty WWX online that’s it that’s the fic, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

~*~

9. I've read a few fics with side plots of the lans learning about the culture of yunmeng and seeing all of the cultural differences, and was wondering if there were anymore fics like that? It could be any sect tbh I'm just super interested in the cultural differences between the sects. @reyoffuckingsunshine

~*~

10. do u have some outsider pov mdzs fics (especially if it's like from any of the juniors or lan xichen )

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor) Juniors pov time travel fic

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, Canon Divergence, Fix-it, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LWJ's emotional repression, WWX giving everything as always, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole) LXC POV

The Story of El-ahrairah and the Rabbits of Cloud Recesses by zylaa (G, 1k, wangxian, Crack, Fluff, literal fluff, it's all about the rabbits) Definitely outsider pov as it's from characters from outside MDZS canon

There's a Baby Loose in the Burial Mounds! by ScarlettStorm (G, 3k, LSZ is the best boy, even the ghosts think so, OCs, But they're all dead, What is a family?, the burial mounds, sentient burial mounds, don't worry wangxian are together and in love, that's just not relevant to anything that happens in this fic, radish truther agenda) POV various ghosts

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark) LJY POC

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, BAMF WWX, Kidnapping, Violence, YLLZ WWX, not exactly but the vibes are there, Post-Canon) POV random idiots

💖 Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) LQR POV

Oh, my precious didi! by PrinceInuYasha (G, 7k, wangxian, High School AU, LXC's pov, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Some angst, Protective WWX, overprotective LXC, Rumors, Established Relationship, bad boy WWX, but not really) link in #11

~*~

11. Do u have some lan xichen or jin ling pov fics esp ones that are already not quite so popular on ao3

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, Canon Divergence, Fix-it, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LWJ's emotional repression, WWX giving everything as always, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole) link in #10 LXC POV

Oh, my precious didi! by PrinceInuYasha (G, 7k, wangxian, High School AU, LXC's pov, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Some angst, Protective WWX, overprotective LXC, Rumors, Established Relationship, bad boy WWX, but not really)

climbing up that coastal shelf by Sour_Idealist (T, 15k, JC & JL & WWX, JC & JL, JC & WWX, JL & LSZ, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Mutually Unrequited Forgiveness, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Family History, Generational Trauma, Discussion of Canonical Abuse, Awkward Attempts at Communication, mentions of past JC/WQ, Fairy is a good dog, Podfic by RevolutionaryJo)

a symbol to remind you that there's more to see by paperminds (T, 9k, JL & WWX, JC & JL, JC & WWX, canon-compliant, post-canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angst with happy ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation, JL has too many uncles, JL deserves a hug, JL will save us all, excessive verbosity by yours truly)

To Love What Is Mortal by treemaidengeek (T, 22k, XiSong, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Healing, past 3Zun, past SongXiao, background WangXian, background SL & WN, & LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] To Love What Is Mortal by flamingwell)

Gentle Exile by rynleaf (E, 9k, XiSong, Post-Canon, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Exploration, [PODFIC] Gentle Exile by flamingwell, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

🔒hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ (G, 15k, WangXian, CQL canon, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, domestic fluff and angst, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, BAMF WWX)

~*~

12. I’m ITMF a fic where it’s a AITA au / where the characters are in a AITA scenario @zerokogane

Am I (Gusu Lan Cultivator, 24 M) the Asshole? by moonwaif (M, 41k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Jealous WWX, Misunderstandings, No actual Wei Ying x Others, A "What If Wei Wuxian Figured Out His Own Feelings First?" AU, Hanguang-jun unlearns compulsory heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, give LWJ friends agenda)

~*~

13. hi! for itmf i wanted to ask, are there any fics where cssr's infidelity accusation gets addressed definitively? it's mentioned sometimes but there aren't ever consequences for yzy or the other gossipers, or wwx doesn't get to honor and take pride in his parents (I'll also take any angsty options where the the jfm-bastard assumption gets wwx in trouble) thank you!!

~*~

14. hey admins! i'm in the mood for any fics where wwx is depressed and sad, but people help him? i'm in an angsty mood, thanks!

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 53k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death Experience, Attempt Drowning, Madam Yu Bashing, Recovery, No war AU)

🔒 tuck me in by belovedmuerto (T, 4k, WangXian, bed sharing, Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, Pre-Slash, Getting Together, Nightmares, expressions of care)

~*~

15. hi! if you dont mind me asking, what is the mdzs/the untamed fic with the best smut you ever read? any kind of fic is fair game

Make me by anaphoricae (E, 180k, wangxian, Modern, Dom/sub, Dominant WWX, Submissive LWJ, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Co-workers, Praise Kink, Touch-Starved LWJ, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Nipple Play, Mutual Masturbation, Overstimulation, POV WWX, In which I trick you into reading about Wangxian falling in love by making you think it's all just a smut fic, Brief Mentions of WWX/Others and LWJ/Others, Bondage, Blindfolds, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Flogging, Chair Bondage, Aftercare, Edging, Jealous LWJ, Facials, Come as Lube, and also lube as lube, Cock & Ball Torture, But it's mild, Coming Untouched, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Face Slapping, Choking, Subspace, Couch Sex, LWJ sitting on WWXs lap agenda, Biting, Spanking, LWJ having his cheeks pinched as a treat, So much RESPECT and TRUST this is actually way softer than the tags make it seem, Bottom LWJ, POV LWJ, Rope Bondage, Office Sex, Rope Bunny LWJ, Spit As Lube, LWJ's canonical habit of keeping (stealing) Wei Wuxian's things, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Blow Jobs, Snowballing, Service Submission, Lingerie, LWJ's brain going BRRRRR, Jealous WWX, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Collars, Power Play, Orgasm Control, LWJ and WWX's inability to pretend they're not actually madly in love with each other, slight degradation [Affectionate], Miscommunication, Impact Play, Rigger WWX, BDSM fetish party, Public Blow Jobs, Rope Suspension, Cuddlefucking, Fluff, LWJ and WWX being boyfriends without realizing they're boyfriends, Porn with Feelings, Body Worship) lots of bdsm and stuff so u might wanna check out the tags

To Know, To Be Known by cqlorphan (E, 38k, wangxian, PWP, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Cock Warming, Multiple Orgasms, Marathon Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Porn with Feelings, Aftercare, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, let lwj get railed agenda, LWJ Learns Some Things about himself, sex tears, gratuitous use of names, Begging, Kink Discovery, Post-Canon, Top LWJ, Bottom WWX, Switching, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Let wwx get tied up but also let lwj railed, Repressed LWJ, Inventor WWX, Cock Rings, Angst and Fluff and Smut, begging, talking about feelings, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Dildos, Rimming, Edging)

🔒sleep in your bed by copperwings (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Fluff, Humor, Smut, Attempt at Humor, Boys Kissing, Emotional Sex, Anal Sex)

Fentao-laoshi’s Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets) (E, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, pining while fucking, friends with benefits, first time, cloud recesses study arc, practice kissing, sharing a bed, jealousy, getting together, confessions, happy ending)

~*~

16. Hi! This is for ITMF ✨

I'm looking for two kind of fics:

A) Cloud Recesses Arc where WWX and LWJ are together soon, Happy ending pls. I like longer fics, but shorts ones are OK. 🤗💕

B) Travel time fics where WWX (I prefer WWX but if it's LWJ it's ok too) travel in time to fix everything and save everyone. I love this kind of fics. Please give me all you have. Happy endings, pls. 💕😉

Thanks for everything!! Ily 🤟😊 @wangxiansgirl

16A)

❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, wangxian, canon divergence, political marriage, dysfunctional family, implied/referenced self-harm, hurt/comfort, fix-it, implied/referenced suicide, BAMF WWX, eventual happy ending, not YZY friendly, not LQR friendly (kind of), Mojo’s bookmark)

16B)

the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Canon) LWJ stuck in a time loop

Regrets by antebunny (G, 38k, wangxian, miscommunication, misundersandings, time travel fix-it, temporary character death, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort) Both LWJ & WWX time travel

Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel Fix-It, No war AU, Not YZY Friendly, Somebody Lives/Not everyone dies, Established Relationship) WWX time travels

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) WWX time travels

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending) LWJ time travels

🔒 Hope series by RoseThorne (M, 59k, wangxian, WIP, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Resentment, Anger, Explosions, Yīn Iron, Grief/Mourning, POV WWX)

Wish Me Luck by Starlight1395 (Not rated, 164k, wangxian, time travel, fix it, PTSD) It's the perfect angsty/cute combo time travel fix-it fix! Also fits #16A

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

~*~

17. Hola! Nice to meet you ☺️

I want to ask for some fics in ITMF. Lately I'm reading a lot of Wangxian fics where they kiss or confess in Xuanwu cave or Gusu cave. I like when they have their happy ending, long fics better. (I'm happy with mpreg and omegaverse too).

Thx!!

💙🔒 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, modern w/ cultivation, getting back together, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, case fic, pining)

hope dangling by a string by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Alternate Canon, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Psychic Bond, Telepathy, Communication, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, jiang family feels, Lan Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison) the first part starts with the Xuanwu cave and confessions/realisations.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 10: The House Of Saint Honoratus of Amiens] [Series Finale]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, weddings, Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Rice-A-Roni.

Word Count: 6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @bungalowbear @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Thank you so much for loving this strange, sexy, sweet story. I hope you enjoy the finale. 🥰🧁

Your bare feet in warm grass, your hands around the ropes of the tree swing, no sounds except the ancient psalms of the earth: cicadas, mourning doves, goldfinches, bumble bees, bullfrogs, wind in the leaves of the dogwoods and southern live oaks. The adolescent alligator is at one end of the front yard, sunbathing up by the mouth of the gravel driveway; in the opposite corner are several nutria nibbling on cattails. The sky is a calm, cloudless blue. It’s hot, mid-80s, even when 5:00 p.m. comes and goes; but the breeze is cool as it evaporates the sweat from your temples, your palms, the nape of your neck. It’s as close as Louisiana ever gets to Heaven. It’s a good day for a wedding.

You remember thinking that it was the end of the world when you found out you were pregnant almost exactly eleven years ago, and then again when you realized you would have to divorce Willis, and so you have lived through enough moments like this—these quiet, infinitesimal apocalypses—to know that there will be a future beyond Aemond marrying Christabel. The sun will rise tomorrow, and then it will set, the lightning bugs will appear and the stars will tell myths in the night sky, and the phone will ring as orders come in for the bakery, and Cadi will be back in her bedroom playing her Nintendo, and life will roll on like currents through the bayou: slow, opaque, inevitable. The world isn’t ending, you know that. It’s just full of beautiful things that aren’t for you.

Out on Route 401, a Plymouth Gran Fury zooms by the house, squeals to a halt, and then reverses until Willis can take another look, squinting through his tinted windows. He turns down the driveway and steps out into golden July daylight. He doesn’t pay any attention to the gator as he strides past her. He belongs here, in a place that is old and strange and savage and full of beasts. You have carved out a home for yourself in the swamplands; Willis was born with veins like the roots of a mangrove tree and ancient silt instead of marrow in his bones.

“Hey, sugar,” he says, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. The wind ruffles the dark curls of his mullet, the bumble bees flee as he tramples clovers. “Ain’t ya supposed to be at the weddin’?”

“I’m sick.” A lie. “But Cadi’s fine, she’s with Amir. She was so excited she actually wore one of the sundresses my mom bought her and had Amir braid a dogwood flower into her hair to match his. You should have seen it. You would’ve been so proud.”

“I’m always proud of her,” Willis says, smiling. And then: “Ya don’t look sick.”

“I am.”

“Ya got one of your headaches?”

You pause. You don’t, but this is a convenient excuse. “Yeah.”

Willis stalls, his hands on his belt. His pistol is there; you remember how he used it in the bayou, how he helped save your life. But he wasn’t the one who jumped into the water. Aemond was willing to risk his body for me, but not his soul. What kind of sense does that make? “Ya had me scared for a minute there,” Willis says.

“What? When?”

“When I thought ya were goin’ to end up with that Rockefeller boy.”

“Aemond?” you say, like it’s so shocking. “No. Absolutely not. It’s impossible.”

“And why’s that?”

You stare into the trees so Willis can’t see the tears welling up in your eyes, the tension in your throat as embers kindle there, pulsing with heat that could char flesh to the bone. “He can’t marry someone like me.”

“I could,” Willis replies, grinning. You glare at him until he recants. “Alright, alright, oublie ça. Pardonne-moi.”

“Why would you be afraid of me and Aemond being together?”

“An oil tycoon? A millionaire? He would never stay here for long. In a town like Napoleonville? Soon as he was done getting’ those rigs up and runnin’, he’d go jettin’ off to some other corner of the world, and he’d take you with him. And Cadi too. I wouldn’t be able to fight that. What’s a parish sheriff to a Targaryen? Who would listen to me? Cadi would be gone and I’d never get her back. It would kill me. It would rip the heart right outta my chest.”

You look up at Willis from where you sit on the tree swing, the soles of your feet colored with soil and grass. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” he asks, perhaps suspicious, perhaps hopeful.

“No,” you promise. “Cadi loves you. Cadi needs you to be in her life. I would never try to take her away from you, Willis.”

He nods; he seems to believe you. And something relaxes in him, like there’s been a tension in the lines of his spine and shoulders that you didn’t notice for years. “I’m sorry about your petit ami.”

“Yeah. Me too.” It comes out like a whisper, brittle and frail. “I’m sorry about Lake Verret.”

“They might be able to fix it. Talk around town is they got some kind of desalination”—he says this with each syllable enunciated distinctly, like he’s put great effort into memorizing it—“process that can take the salt back outta the water. And if that don’t work…” He shrugs with a sly smile. “I’ll survive somehow. The world’s a big place. There’s always another lake.”

You consider him, and you remember—like a dream from the night before that just returned to you—how Willis can be unexpectedly deep, randomly tender. “They should put that on bumper stickers.”

He chuckles and waves as he heads back to his car. “I’ll pick Cadi up on Tuesday. Back to the usual schedule.”

“Sure.” Back to real life. Back to before I met Aemond. And you find yourself wishing that you could forget what it had felt like to be with him; the absence he left feels so much heavier than the nonspecific longing that existed before. Willis’ Plymouth Gran Fury rolls out of the driveway, and you stay precisely where you are on the tree swing, absentmindedly pushing yourself back and forth with your tiptoes and trying to believe that tomorrow this will feel easier, and then even easier the day after that, and eventually it will cease to be anything but a vague recollection, a relic in a rarely-opened drawer, a whisper, an echo. One day, you will stop missing Aemond. One day, you will stop wondering whether a sliver of his life would have been better than none at all.

Inside what Cadi calls the Fall-Down House, the phone rings. You ignore it; if it’s an order for the bakery, they can leave a message. But then it rings again, and again, and you have to answer it. What if your mother had a heart attack? What if Cadi and Amir were in a car accident? You hurry to the kitchen and grab the phone, pink to match the little Panasonic boombox that is presently silent.

“Hello?”

“Hiiiiiii,” Amir says, slow and something else too. Disoriented? Evasive?

Your forehead wrinkles with confusion. “Where are you calling from?” There are definitely no phonelines running to the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens, a tiny brick-and-stucco edifice built in the 1830s.

“I’m at a McDonald’s up the road. I’ve paid them $5 to let me use the phone.” And then, because he knows it’s the first place your mind will go: “Cadi’s fine. She’s eating Chicken McNuggets. Everyone’s fine.”

“Okay…?”

“I think you should come over here.”

“What, to the chapel?!”

“Yeah.” He’s talking to someone; you can hear an indistinct tangle of voices through the hand he undoubtedly has clasped over the transmitter.

I can’t see Aemond. I can’t see Christabel. There is a lurching in your guts; you are a fish that swallowed a hook. “I thought we agreed that I wasn’t going to go to the wedding.” I can’t handle it. It might kill me.

“Yes, we did, but now…um…I think you will want to make an appearance.”

“Amir, what happened?”

There is more muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Look,” he tells you. “Things, uh…things are…occurring. And I think it would be better to explain in person.”

“Did you drop the cake?”

“No,” he says, defensive. “The cake is perfect, thank you for your concern. Not a single frosting wildflower was mutilated in the delivery.”

“Then why—?”

“Do you trust me?” Amir asks.

The answer is obvious. Of course. More than anyone. “You know I do.”

“Then go get in your car.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. “Okay, but you know it’s going to take me like 40 minutes to drive to Belle River.”

“That’s fine.” He confers with someone else. “Yeah, that’s good actually, that will work.”

“Great,” you say uncertainly.

“See you soon!” Then Amir hangs up, leaving you alone in the creaks and groans of your ailing house.

You take Route 70 around Lake Verret, gliding past fields of soybeans and sugarcane, paddocks of cattle and horses, marshes of cordgrass occupied by blue herons and white egrets and prowling alligators, stirring awake as the sun begins its descent into the west. More than once, you notice that your Chevy Celebrity’s odometer reports you are travelling well below the speed limit. You aren’t in any hurry to reach the chapel; you don’t want to carry the weight of what you will see there, Christabel in her wedding dress, Aemond in his suit, Alicent anxiously fidgeting and gnawing at her fingernails, Viserys parading around triumphantly. You can’t imagine that there is anything less than torturous for you there. You don’t remember what you’re wearing until you reach Belle River, a small, old town full of double-wide trailers and jetties that run far out into the lake: a simple cotton sundress you threw on this morning without much thought, modest but white and therefore forbidden for a wedding guest. The sky is turning from a sun-drenched cerulean blue to something more soft, more muted, as dusk lurks just a few hours away. The radio is playing Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car.

The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens was built by a man in extremis. An acclaimed mason by trade, he had been born in France and settled in the New World in Louisiana when it was still in the possession of Napoleon. The mason had a wife and children—some people say 5, others say 8 or 10, though details always seem to grow more elaborate in the retelling, don’t they?—and he loved them dearly. But tragedy struck when every single member of the family, except for the mason himself, fell ill with tuberculosis. When healers of the earth failed to offer sufficient remedies, the mason appealed to a higher power. He built the chapel to implore Honoratus of Amiens, his wife’s favorite saint—she was a baker and a florist, both professions that Honoratus presides over—to intercede with the Almighty on their behalf. This effort proved futile, and as each member of the family died, the mason interred them in a brick vault beneath the altar where they would spend eternity together. Perhaps this makes for a peculiar wedding venue, yet for over a century couples rich and poor, religious and secular have traveled to the chapel to exchange their vows. Perhaps there are few things more romantic than loving someone in the face of total futility: illness, distance, unrequitedness, prohibitions, death.

The chapel sits in a clearing surrounded by live oak trees, massive, hundreds of years old, hanging with Spanish moss, blotting out the sunlight as aisles cascade through gaps in the leaves. As you park in the grass—joining an army of Lexuses, Audis, limousines, Porsches, Ferraris, Cadillacs, Aston Martins, Alfa Romeos, and Amir’s blue Ford Escort—you observe that there are perhaps fifty guests in formal attire milling aimlessly around the building. You peer down at your white sundress, frowning. Well, I can’t go naked. The faux pas will have to be forgiven. You step out of your Chevy Celebrity and make your way across the clearing towards the chapel.

There is a long table set up in the shade with a tower of champagne glasses, an ice sculpture of a dragon, and the banana bread cake you and Amir baked for the wedding. Grim-faced servants in black suits are cutting slices and handing them out to guests on green china plates. You recognize Aegon’s wife Stephanie chatting with a flock of young women in extravagant gowns, golds and emeralds and sapphires. Helaena is among them, wearing a shimmering blue-green color like the scales of her chameleon Dreamfyre. Evidently, the Targaryens’ exotic pets have been left at the mansion for this excursion.

“Well,” the princess of Monaco says sardonically as she takes a bite, the white cream cheese frosting covered with a kaleidoscope of wildflowers. “At least the cake is good. What is this, banana? Whoever heard of a banana wedding cake? I mean, it’s delicious, but still. I knew that Christabel girl was daft. Did you see her positively absurd dress? It looks like children doodled all over it…”

Is it over? you think as you weave through the crowd, largely unnoticed. Is the ceremony done already? Why would Aemond want to see me? To try to convince me to be his mistress one last time? To show me what I’m missing by severing ties with him?

But no: something else has happened. Viserys and Christabel’s father the marquess are embroiled in a heated argument; a nun and two priests are trying to haul them apart.

“You’re dead to me, Viserys!” the marquess roars. “And you’ll be dead to everyone back home once I tell them what you’ve done!”

“I did my part! This has nothing to do with me! Wait…wait…we can figure something else out! Wait! Wait! You can have Daeron!”

Wedding guests are gawking and snapping photos with their polaroid cameras. Upon hearing his name, Daeron glances over towards his father wearily. Alicent’s youngest son is kneeling beside where she has collapsed to the grass, patting her encouragingly on the shoulder as she sobs into a green cloth handkerchief. Criston is there too, trying to soothe her with sympathetic murmurs and a flute of pink champagne glittering with bubbles of carbonation.

“How did this happen?” she wails, peering up at Criston with her vast, dark, glassy eyes. The gold rings on her fingers clang and glint; they match the single hoop earring that Criston wears. Alicent’s gown is purple like royalty, but Criston is dressed in a suit of pale pink; it’s the exact same one Daeron has on. Groomsmen? you wonder. “He knows better than this! We raised him better than this!”

You think, stunned and petrified: Aemond, what the hell did you do?

As you approach the chapel, you note that it appears empty inside; you don’t spot anyone in the pews. Somewhere, a boombox is thundering Higher Love. At the entrance of the building, Christabel is sitting on the brick walkway in her wedding dress. It’s the one you told her to choose: elegant and timeless, long train and short flowing sleeves, silk wildflowers sewn into the white lace. Her bouquet is lying forgotten on the ground beside her. Her lips are a deep, lovely pink; her eyeshadow is gold. She’s smoking, something you’ve never seen her do before. There is a half-crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter in her left hand, a single lit cigarette in her right.

“Um, hi, Christabel,” you say. And then, something equally brainless: “Is everything okay?”

“I should have known.” She’s staring out at the crowd, not at you. Her large blue eyes are dull, vacant.

“You should have known what?” Your heart is in your throat; blood pounds in your ears like the hooves of a racehorse.

“That he didn’t care,” she says listlessly. “I could tell that he didn’t. I could feel it. But I didn’t want it to be true, so I told myself it wasn’t. Isn’t that interesting? How we can lie to ourselves? Not that it was entirely my error. Other people meddled plenty. ‘Oh no, Christabel.’ ‘He’s just emotionally stunted, Christabel.’ ‘He’s busy with work, Christabel.’ What man is too busy with work to handle a five-minute phone call? It’s not like he was on the moon. He could have made time if he wanted to. I bet he made lots of time for you.”

“Uh.” You try to decide what to say. “I broke up with him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want to be his mistress. I didn’t think that was fair to you.” Or me, obviously, but right now doesn’t seem to be the opportune time to voice my own grievances.

“Next time, I’m going to choose who I marry,” Christabel insists, puffing on her cigarette. “He has to talk to me. He has to like me.”

Aemond called it off? What did he say? What is he going to do now? “Christabel…do you know where Aemond is? Or Amir and Cadi?”

“Alicent is so upset,” she says instead. “Poor woman. She’s sweet, in her own way. But I don’t want to end up like her.” Christabel holds up the pack of Marlboros and the lighter. “She feels guilty, I think. She gave me these. She had them in her purse, she has so many neurotic little habits, doesn’t she? It’s not very ladylike to smoke, but it’s not ladylike to get left at the altar either, so fuck it.”

You ask, afraid to know the answer: “Do you hate me? I didn’t know Aemond was engaged when I met him. And then…” Why lie now? What’s the point? “Then I was in love with him and it was kind of…too late to try not to be. But I’m sorry.”

“I don’t hate you,” Christabel replies immediately. “I know he would never be allowed to marry…someone like you. Your options were limited.”

You don’t know if this is meant to be an insult or not. “Thanks.”

“I don’t think I ever loved him either,” Christabel realizes, exhaling smoke. “I think I idolized him. I think I loved my fantasy of what our marriage would be like. But I didn’t love Aemond. I didn’t even know Aemond. You did, I suspect. Good luck with him. He’s a bit…complex.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, rather compulsively. You aren’t sure what she expects from you. Abruptly, from wherever it’s coming from, Higher Love is cut off. “So, is Aemond, like…around, or…?”

“I don’t regret the sex part.”

“Okay.” You examine the crowd in the clearing again. You still don’t see Aemond.

“That went well,” Christabel muses. “I’m glad my first time is over and done with. I was terrified it would hurt like hell. And so few people know, so it’s almost like it never happened, right?”

“Right,” you say obediently.

“I think I’ll have a new rule. I won’t marry anyone unless he likes me and we sleep together first. Life is too long to spend it with the wrong person, don’t you agree?”

“I totally do.”

“He’s waiting for you inside,” Christabel says, flicking ashes towards the gaping doorway of the chapel.

“Really?” you peer into the shadows; there is indeed a solitary figure standing at the altar. “So…what exactly is happening…?”

“Go,” Christabel urges, and takes a drag on her cigarette. You leave her and cross through the doorway into the chapel.

The light is dim and gentle; fading sunbeams slant in through the glass of the cathedral-style windows. The mason’s inspiration was Gothic architecture, imposing, cavernous. Two candlelit iron chandeliers hang from the high ceiling; the floor is made of tiles of black and white marble. Small stone sculptures of angels watch over their realm like benevolent gargoyles. There is a single stained glass window above the altar: circular like a ring, red and gold like the sun.

He’s waiting for you in a pale pink suit, long disheveled hair, thin mustache with flecks of white powder in it, mischievous smirk. “Hey cake lady,” Aegon says.

“Um. I’m not marrying you.”

“No, you’re definitely not.” Aegon offers you his hand and you take it with some hesitation. “I’m here to be your guide. Just like on the Oregon Trail.”

“What…?”

“Let’s go.” He pulls you out of the chapel, past where Christabel is still sitting at the entranceway, and across the clearing towards the trees. When you look to the crowd, Otto is elbowing his way through disgruntled guests towards a limousine, already idling.

Viserys bellows at him: “Where the hell are you going?!”

“Back to Kiribati!” Otto shouts back, not breaking his stride. He vanishes into the limo.

“Hurry,” Aegon says. He leads you into the forest, a thick canopy of verdant leaves and Spanish moss and the narrow rays of sunshine that tumble down through the gaps.

“Aegon, I don’t think we should be in the woods, it could be dangerous—”

“No, this part is fine. We already checked.”

“Who’s ‘we’?!” You’re wearing flip flops that catch on gnarled roots; the shrieking of cicadas grows loud. One of them buzzes towards Aegon and he screams as he backhands it away.

“You good?” Amir’s voice calls from farther within the trees.

“Yeah. I’m fine. We made it.”

You turn to Aegon. “What’s going on—?”

Suddenly, there is booming music that startles you: “Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth! They say in Heaven, love comes first, we’ll make Heaven a place on Earth! Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth!”

“Aegon, what is that?”

“Uh, I think it’s Heaven Is A Place On Earth.”

“Yes, okay, but why?”

“Ask that guy.” You round a thicket and there under a colossal southern live oak tree, surrounded by hundred-year-old branches that twist down to the earth, is Aemond; but he’s not looking at you. He and Cadi are lighting the last of the candles. She picks them up, he ignites the wick with the same lighter he uses to smoke his Marlboros, and then Cadi places them back on the ground or on top of a branch. Amir is standing by the large black boombox, the same one Aegon always listens to by the Targaryens’ pool. Amir grins craftily, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose. His suit is orange, the single dogwood flower in his hair white.

“Did we get them all?” Aemond asks Cadi.

“Yeah, I think so. Wait, no, there’s one over there!” Cadi darts to it and Aemond lights the candle, then spins around and sees you. He smiles. “Hi, Cupcake.”

“Hi,” you say, so shellshocked you can’t form any of your very vital questions.

“Okay, so we have the candles,” Aemond informs you as Cadi and Aegon go to join Amir. “White with wildflower patterns.” And you recall how Alicent mentioned needing to pick out candles with Christabel, and how you didn’t see any scattered around the chapel. They brought them here. They did it for me. “And we have some actual wildflowers.” He takes the boutonniere off the lapel of his white suit and tucks it into your hair behind your left ear. “And we have Heaven Is A Place On Earth.” He gestures to the boombox. “And I think those were the three things you said you wanted if you were ever going to get married again.”

I did say that. Just once, months ago, the first time he ever came over, the first time he ever touched me. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.” He takes both of your hands in his own. Amir lets out a little squeal and covers his mouth as his eyes begin to glisten. Aemond takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t have a speech, because this is very last-minute. I mean extremely last-minute. But you were right about everything. And I realized I couldn’t live that way. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to me, but it wouldn’t be fair to Christabel either. So I broke it off.”

“Literally at the altar,” Aegon says. “In front of everybody. It was so fucking awkward.”

“Those are not necessary details!” Aemond snaps, then looks back to you and is smiling again. “I know what I want. I’ve known it for as long as I’ve known you. But I wasn’t a strong enough person to make it happen. I’m so sorry. I should have done things differently. I can’t change the past. But everything is going to be different now.”

You gaze up at him as Belinda Carlisle sings, thinking: This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up now.

“On the night we met, you told me you’d never felt chosen,” Aemond says. “I’m choosing you. And, you know.” He nods to her. “Cadi too. And Amir. And the bakery. And dealing with Willis too, I guess. All of it. I’m choosing you and your whole life and that’s exactly where I want to be.”

You can feel the warmth in your face, beaming and hopeful and full of possibilities. Under the shade of the southern live oak, the first lightning bugs are blooming in the air like stars. “What about your family?”

“I’ll figure it out. I don’t think my father can entirely disown me…turns out I’m the only one who understands how the stock market works. But no matter what, you and Cadi are the priority. And my father will have to learn to live with that.”

“Or he can drop dead,” Aegon says. “Whichever.”

It’s possible? We can be together? Not just for a night, an afternoon, a stolen moment, but forever?

“I said I don’t have a speech.” Aemond tells you. His right eye is bright, elated, gleaming like a mirror. “I don’t have a ring either. But I’m going to get you one, if you’ll let me. So I’m asking you, Cupcake: Will you marry me?”

“Say yes, Mom!” Cadi yells, and Amir bursts out laughing.

“Say yes, cake lady!” Aegon adds. “Unlimited Cap’n Crunch Treats!”

When am I going to wake up? When is this going to end?

But it’s not a dream. It’s real. And Aemond reads the answer on your face before you can say it, and so it’s only a murmur as he kisses you, a whisper, a prayer: “Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The three of you drive from the new house all the way to San Francisco; you still call it the new house, even though you’ve owned it for a full year. The journey takes seven days, with overnight stops in Dallas, Wonderland Amusement Park in Amarillo, Albuquerque, Flagstaff, Las Vegas, and Bakersfield. Aemond sold his Audi Quattro and replaced it with a Dodge Caravan. It’s July 1989, and Tom Petty’s brand new single Runnin’ Down A Dream is strumming from the radio. It’s always temperate in San Fran, in the 60s even at the height of summer. The sky is overcast and grey. When Cadi complains that she’s cold despite the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles hoodie you packed for her, Aemond gives her his Marlboro jacket.

Amir, his boyfriend, and two other roommates share a sunshine yellow Italianate townhouse in the Castro District. Aemond parks his wood-paneled Caravan on the steep, inclined street—he narrowly misses colliding with a whooshing cable car, which he blames on poor depth perception—and then helps you carry the luggage inside. There are no alligators on the front porch, but there are neighborhood cats that Amir puts out Friskies for; there are no screaming cicadas, but there are swooping seagulls and the melodies of sidewalk musicians. When Amir opens the door, he nearly tackles you with enthusiasm. He still wears his loud colors and short shorts, but he’s traded in the dogwood flowers he once wove into his hair for dahlias.

Amir’s boyfriend is named Don, but everyone calls him Donald Schwarzenegger because he looks so much like the Austrian bodybuilder turned actor. When Amir first arrived in the city, he got a job as a cake decorator for a very popular bakery, and quickly segued into handling much of their marketing as well. He’s thinking of getting a degree in advertising and trying his luck in corporate America. You very much enjoy teasing him for being a sellout; what would socialist Bayard Rustin say?

“Call your Daddy and let him know we made it safely to the West Coast,” you tell Cadi once her things are unpacked in the guest room she’ll get all to herself; you and Aemond are consigned to the living room futon. Cadi chats with Willis for a while, then says he wants to talk to you. You take the phone, slightly concerned; you hope nothing is amiss with the house. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with this horse?” he demands. “That ain’t no pet. That’s a demon. It’s a goddamn Rougarou.”

“I told you not to try to touch him,” you say, amused.

“I feed him and water him, don’t I? Ain’t that the least he can do? Lettin’ me scratch his big ol’ idiot head?”

“Patches is not very well-behaved. But Cadi loves him.”

“And don’t even get me started on the dog. Ugliest fuckin’ dog I ever saw. Growls every time I show up. Shows its teeth and everythin’. I’d take twenty gators over that son of a bitch any day.”

“Vhagar is a girl,” you say. “Thanks for watching them while we’re out of town.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Although I still don’t understand why the bon a rien can’t do it.”

“Aegon isn’t always…reliable.” But he does seem to be improving. He’s cut back to mostly just booze and marijuana, because otherwise he and Sunfyre aren't allowed to stay at the new house for sleepovers. There’s a guest bedroom, but Aegon prefers the sunken conversation pit in the mauve pink living room. He likes to be where anyone can stumble across him if they wake up in the middle of the night for pancakes or ice cream. He likes to be where people are; he likes to be included. “Anyway, I gotta go. Cadi will call again tomorrow. Enjoy your fishing.”

“Will do. Maybe I’ll toss your accursed animals in as bait.” Lake Verret is still a bit too brackish for a proper freshwater lake, but that’s changing gradually with Daeron’s desalination efforts and a subaquatic plug affixed to the opening of the breached salt dome. He views it as a pioneering experiment in reversing such drilling accidents, potentially for application globally. Now there are more bass and lampreys and catfish, and less breams and gars, but life goes on in Napoleonville’s 14,000-acre lake. Daeron has replaced Aemond as Viserys’ heir apparent, and he is thriving in the role. He is bookish yet empathetic, focused but never ruthless. Furthermore, he happens to be genuinely in love with his aristocratic fiancée: Princess Alexandra of Denmark.

Aemond was right; Viserys didn’t disown him, but he did fire him, ban him from the mansion, and reduce his available funds to a modest living stipend. Fortunately, Viserys has a very limited comprehension of how money works for normal people, and he considers $200,000 per year to be “modest.” With that plus your bakery earnings and a paid-off house, you, Cadi, and Aemond will be living comfortably for the remainder of your lives. Also fortunately, no one else will enforce the no-Aemond rule at The Last Desire, so anytime Viserys is out of town—which is far more often than not—you get to visit the Targaryens at the mansion as much as you please. Cadi loves the water slide and the koi pond. She’s named the fish after Greek deities, her latest obsession: Zeus, Narcissus, Athena, Dionysus, Artemis, Apollo, Echo. Viserys will not acknowledge you, but the rest of the family is polite enough now that the drama of the broken engagement has blown over. When you finish the cookbook of Southern baked goods that you’ve been working on, Alicent had pledged to mail copies to all her friends and relatives back in the U.K. Otto has offered to take a box of them with him next time he jets off for Kiribati; the wealthy housewives marooned in paradise are always on the hunt for new reading material.

On your first night in San Francisco, Amir serves a dinner of cioppino, sourdough bread, and (not homemade) Rice-A-Roni. You provide dessert, a recipe you’re still perfecting: Saint Honoratus cake, a pastry that dates back to Paris in the 1800s. You want to be able to include it in your cookbook, along with photographs from your wedding in the chapel this past May, almost exactly a year from when you and Aemond first met. Your engagement ring has a gold band and pink diamonds arranged to resemble a rockrose, a dauntless little wildflower native to Aemond’s ancestral homeland of Greece. For over a decade you have loved that wildflowers are grown and not bought, small but tenacious, humble yet untamed. They do not wait for other hands to tell them where and how to grow. They are the architects of their own fortune.

When everyone is finished with dessert and gathers around the tv to watch The Golden Girls, Aemond says he’s going outside for a smoke break; but you know he’s trying to quit. You follow him into the small backyard and as soon as your bare feet touch the grass, he’s pushed you against the wall of the house, forced your thighs apart, slipped his hand down the front of your shorts as he watches the amazed, electrified desire rise in your face like heat from a stove. “It’s been a week, and I need you,” Aemond murmurs, his lips ghosting across your throat, his hips braced insistently against yours, and then he kisses you to stifle your moans as you bury your fingers in his hair, to swallow down the vicarious ecstasy of every wondrous thing he’s ever done to you and ever will. “I don’t even need you to get me off. I just need to see you like this.”

Trusting him, wanting him, letting him make me come.

Aemond has been accepted into UC Berkeley’s History PhD program and will start there at the end of August. He wants to write books about underrecognized heroes, extraordinary and yet unassuming people like Bayard Rustin and Bobbi Campbell and Phillis Wheatley. You’ll miss him of course, but there will be breaks for holidays and summers when he can return to Napoleonville, and you can fly out to visit him too, and there are phone calls, and postcards, and one day you’ll be able to go anywhere together—

You gasp, a shaky, starving breath, your lips grinning into Aemond’s. You’re close, you’re so close.

There is a shrill whistle from the back porch of a townhouse from the row behind Amir’s. “Get it, honey!” a man in a leopard-print robe cheers, waving the newspaper he’d been reading. You and Aemond unravel from each other, laughing hysterically.

“Okay,” you tell him, still panting. “Bad plan. We are clearly not accustomed to city life.”

“Tonight,” Aemond says, low and commanding. He returns to you, kissing the side of your face: temple, cheekbone, the curve of your jaw. His voice is dark, jagged glass; his lips are soft like kind dreams. “On the futon, on the floor, anywhere.”

You want it too, but you know the game. “No.”

He pins you to the wall again, powerful, irresistible, his hardness grinding against you through his jeans, everything about him—voice, flesh, rhythm, soul—promising you the peace only he has ever given you, proving that being at the right person’s mercy can make you free. “I’m in charge now. Let me take care of you.” And for a split second you almost beg: Just do it, Aemond, right now, please touch me again, I don’t care if a stranger sees. I want you now, I want you forever.

Instead you smile up at him, the whirls of your fingerprints skating harmlessly over his scarred left cheek as you answer: “Yes sir.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond

[exhuastedpigeon]

Hiatus Buddie Fic Rec - Month 2 June 16 - July 15

Here's the second rec list! Here's my favourite fics that I've read that were posted between June 16 and July 15

0-5k

if your heart wears thin by devirnis / @devirnisGen | 986 words He knows the shift was disheartening, but the little rain cloud of gloom that’s been hanging over Buck’s head since he fell in the water has Eddie mildly concerned.

You with the dark curls, you with the watercolour eyes by thewolvesof1998 / @thewolvesof1998

Mature | 1.6k The morning after Buck and Eddie finally get together.

Stuck On You by rosebuddiekin / @giddyupbuck

Teen | 2.5k Eddie jokingly gives Buck stickers that have positive saying on them, but it quickly gets out of hand.

Not A Trick of the Mind (Only Love) by Bookbee, JJK / @trenchcoatsandtimetravel & @painting--words

Teen | 4.2k Buck wakes up in hospital with amnesia and thinks Eddie is married to someone else.

I could spend the whole day just gettin' by by rowan_wood / @transboybuckley Gen | 4.4k “I’m sick,” Buck said, eyes closed, when he could sense Eddie reached the loft. (Sick fic)

Find a remedy by BladeoftheNebula Teen | 4.7 Buck and Eddie tell Christopher they're dating. It doesn't go well.

5k-10k

Of Sound Mind (And Memory) by henry988

Not rated | 6k In the hours after Buck is struck by lightning, Maddie is faced with retrieving the last will and testament of her brother, just in case. Together, with Eddie, they learn more about their brother and friend.

give me a sign, I want you next to me by 42hrb Teen | 7k The 118 knows Buck has a really cute kid and a partner he loves, they just think that partner is his husbands ex-wife.

we don't need to play games like these (you won me long ago) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Explicit | 10.4k five times buck was turned on by Eddie's complete lack of rizz and the one time he realised what his new kink was for

10k-20k

you been looking for love (let me show you how it's done) by wikiangela / @wikiangela Explicit | 12.2k Eddie is a tease, Buck is horny and jealous of Eddie dating, and a regular evening takes an unexpected turn.

Sixth time's the charm by CorgiQueen14 Teen | 14.2k The mid-lawsuit time loop fic.

20k - 30k

in the night we trust by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoon

Explicit | 29.2k Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

30k +

i know you're gone now, but i'll still wait for you by roephobic Teen | 32.1k the one where Buck leaves and Eddie breaks down.

you and i'll be safe and sound by spaceprincessem / @spaceprincessem

Teen | 50.8k buddie hunger games au

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 57.9k After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

i love you (and i like you) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Explicit | 64.4k he parks and rec au in which buck is leslie and eddie is ben feat. gay penguins

a body, a knife, hold steady by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Mature | 67.4k Buck and Eddie meet, fall in love, build a life together, and discover they're rival assassins—exactly in that order.

#buddie #buddie fic rec #buddie hiatus fic recs #911 #rec list

[pedrointofolklore]

Rosebud

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: carnations bloomed when you saw joel. too shy to admit your feelings, but too overcome to not, you began leaving flowers at his doorstep. 

warnings: very brief but graphic depictions of violence, mentions of death/grief, tragic backstory, emotional processing, reader is a loser who falls in love in two seconds, lots of metaphorical language, swearing, mostly just self-indulgent fluff, joel is soft, big age gap (reader is in late 20s), no smut, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), jackson era.

word count: 6k

a/n: hey y’all. i’m delving into the world of fanfiction writing and i’m tentatively posting this as my first story. this story by @army-author is what inspired me here—i read it years ago and loved the concept ever since. i also super don't know much about flower gardening so apologies for any inaccuracies.

Your earliest memory was sitting in the garden with your mother one September. You were small then, no more than three years old, covered in soil and some residual stickiness from whatever fruit you’d just devoured, watching with a curious eye as your mother pruned her roses.

When you thought of her, you thought of that garden. In your memories, it was a labyrinth. Flowers, shrubs and vines overflowed the yard. You used to fear getting lost in the brambles, but at some point, you started to crave their thorny embrace.

It was a pink rose, so bright and intense, like a painting come to life. She shed the thorns, tucked it behind your ear and pinched your chubby cheeks. That was the first time she called you ‘Rosebud.’ Nobody ever called you anything else.

You couldn’t have known then that you were just a few Septembers away from losing her.

She died on the first day, in the centre of the garden. Your lasting memory of her was your father driving a pair of garden shears into her jugular. She collapsed to the ground, blood as dark as a crimson rose pooled around her as your father wept over her lifeless body. You sprinted inside and threw up.

She died a stranger. You didn’t understand what was happening to her then, but you understood that she was gone before the shears even entered her neck.

It haunted you for the next twenty years—but that person was not your mother. 

Whenever the wound opened, and that memory came flooding back, you closed your eyes and thought of her as she truly was—kind, gentle, passionate. You recalled her soft smile, her musical laugh, the books she read, the flowers she loved.

When you were a kid, you thought of her as the sun that kept those flowers alive. As you grew older, she became the sutures that kept you from falling apart.

You knew your father had no other choice, but you could never quite look at him the same. Still, he was all you had, and he kept you safe until the day he died.

It was your mother’s leather-bound notebook that kept you going. She listed every flower she could think of, and wrote the meaning next to it. That notebook went with you everywhere, all across the country. Every new species you came across, you found it in the book, memorised its meaning, and crossed it off your mental checklist.

Flower seeking had to be the most frivolous thing one could do at the end of the world, but it kept you close to your mother, and gave you some semblance of purpose. Each new flower felt like something blooming inside you—your own secret garden that grew from the depths of your soul.

Carnations bloomed when you saw Joel.

He first came to Jackson in December with a girl by his side. They were gone by the next morning, but you saw him. He was coming out of the bar, tugging his coat back on when you spotted him through the crowd of carolling townspeople.

Even from a distance, you noticed the pain in him—a pain similar to yours. There was a wistfulness in his face, a longing for something he missed, and a fear so intense it seemed paralysing. He clutched at his chest, holding in the marigold that grew where his heart should have been.

You wanted to know him.

He came back that spring with the same girl, and this time, he stayed.

It was a while before you spoke with either of them. Everyone who arrived in Jackson had a tendency to be closed-off at first, and you couldn’t fault them for that. You didn’t know where they’d been or what they’d done, but you knew they’d gone through hell.

You met Ellie first. She came by the greenhouse one day, arms crossed and face vacant. Her reticence might have been mistaken for hostility if you didn’t relate so much.

You tore your soil-covered gloves off and wiped a hand over your cheek, probably just further smudging whatever dirt was caked on there.

“Hi there!” You did your best to sound cheerful, to come across as someone who was definitely okay with unexpected visitors. “What can I do for you?”

“Maria told me you might need some help around here.”

You didn’t think you needed help, and it seemed like the girl wanted to be anywhere but here. But as you pondered her, you started to recognise what she was actually getting at.

She didn’t know what to do, but she needed to do something.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” You held out your hand, which she stared at for a good couple of seconds before shaking. “Call me Rosebud.”

“You’re a florist named Rosebud?” She was incredulous, and you didn’t even care that she was making fun of you—it was the first time you’d seen her smile during this entire interaction.

“It’s a nickname,” you told her, “and I'm more of a floriculturist. If you want to help me out, grab some gloves and a trowel.”

“What the fuck is a ‘trowel’?”

You spent the next few hours with her digging holes in the soil, un-potting flowers and planting them in the ground. As apprehensive as Ellie had been to begin with, it didn’t take her long to warm up to you.

The first thing you learned about her was that she asked a lot of questions.

“Why do we have to move these?”

“It’s spring. They’ll do better in the ground.”

“Why didn’t Maria show us this place when we first came here?”

“It was winter. Half the flowers had gone to shit, so there wasn’t much to see,” you replied, flattening the soil around a sunflower plant.

The greenhouse had been established before you got there. Nobody ran it, it was something for everyone to tend to, but nobody cared enough to do so. The gardeners of Jackson preferred to focus on crops that could actually feed them. But then you arrived, and you knew how to grow a thriving flower garden, and with all the bees it brought, it only helped the agriculture. It also meant that Jackson had honey.

“This one’s cool. What is it?” Ellie asked. You looked over at the plant she was settling into the ground—a grassy little shrub with white flowers blooming at the ends.

“Starwort. It means ‘Welcome to a stranger.’”

“Appropriate,” Ellie said. “I didn’t know flowers had meanings.”

“It’s called floriography,” you replied. “I have a book all about it.”

Ellie stayed until the sun began to set, leaving in much better spirits than she arrived. You were used to working alone, and you thought you preferred it that way, but she turned out to be good company. You sent her home with a starwort blossom and a jar of honey as a thank you, and told her to come back any time. You really hoped she would.

You met Joel the next morning. 

There was a knock at your door, which you expected to be Ellie back again. Instead, you opened the door to find her guardian standing on your front porch.

Your eyes flicked shamelessly over his form. He was broad, strong, with plaid sleeves hiked up to his elbows—you didn’t know it was possible to be attracted to someone’s forearms. His features were beautifully angular, especially his nose. But it was his eyes that really got you. They were dark like coffee, deep and intense. You could fall into them and never stop.

The garden you carried in your soul had never felt more alive. It was weird you hadn’t spoken yet, but you worried if you opened your mouth, the brightest, reddest chrysanthemums would come bursting out.

“Good mornin’. Sorry to bother you,” Joel finally said, with the rehearsed politeness typical of a Southern man. There was still an earnestness to him, like he didn’t quite remember how to do this but he was determined to try. “I think Ellie was here yesterday?”

“That’s right.” You internally cheered when your voice didn’t fail on you. “Is that okay? I know I didn’t get your permission. She just kind of showed up.”

“No, that’s okay. I just came by to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“She's been struggling to…adjust, I guess,” Joel explained, “but she was in a good mood when she came home yesterday. I think being here helped her, so thank you.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say. People silently appreciated what you did for the commune, but nobody had ever gone out of their way to thank you for anything. It was a little overwhelming.

“Well, she’s welcome here any time.” You didn’t think Ellie was particularly interested in gardening, but you could see that the girl just needed to feel busy, and maybe needed some company. You were just glad she could find that with you.

“Thank you,” Joel said again. “What was your name, darlin’?”

“Just call me Rosebud.”

You expected a laugh, a mocking jab of some sort, but instead he just tilted his head and looked at you with complete sincerity. “Pretty. It suits you.”

Your cheeks were embarrassingly warm.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” Joel said. Your heart fell. “It was nice meetin’ you. And, uh, thanks again.”

He started to leave, but you weren’t ready for him to go. Before you could think it through, you called after him, “Wait.”

You might have imagined it, but for a split second after he turned back around, you could've sworn you spotted an eagerness in him, like he was hoping you’d say that.

“You can come inside,” you offered, “if you want.”

He did.

Five minutes later, Joel was standing in your kitchen, leaning against the counter. You could feel his gaze on you as you moved, getting the water ready and setting out two mugs.

“How do you like your coffee?” You were already sure of the answer.

“Black. No sugar.” Yep.

You poured the coffee into a mug, absent-mindedly blowing on it as you handed it to him. He didn’t wait for it to cool down before taking a sip, not even flinching at the heat.

You opted for tea with a generous amount of milk and honey.

“Thanks for the honey as well,” Joel said. “Ellie loves it. She’s never had anything so sweet.”

“That doesn’t surprise me if she grew up in a QZ,” you replied, turning to face him with your mug cradled in both hands. “I think I cried when I first got here and they actually had sugar.”

“When did you get here?”

“Around two years ago. My dad knew Seth—you know, from the bar—got in touch with him, and he told us how to get here,” you explained. You truly hated Seth, but he did save your ass and that left you obligated to be nice.

“Your dad’s not here, is he?” Joel spoke without any particular sentiment. It was an observation, plain and simple. You didn’t mind, you just shook your head. It felt normal to talk about your dad. You missed him, but his death wasn’t horrifically tragic to you—the man had a heart attack.

“What about you? I mean, how’d you end up here?” You were nervous about prying, or accidentally chasing him away before you really got to talk, but Joel had fascinated you since December. You needed to know more.

“I was in the Boston QZ for a while, left to look for my brother, found him.” He wasn’t going to get more detailed than that. Too much had happened that was difficult to talk about, and you could see that, because it was the same for you.

No matter how much you wanted to, you didn’t let yourself ask anything more. You didn’t ask why he’d been here in winter, why he left so soon, why he came back, why he didn’t come sooner if his brother was here, how Ellie fit into all of it. You didn’t ask, and you wouldn’t ask. All you could do was hope he’d open up in time.

It occurred to you just how different Joel looked now than he did in December, and not just because you were actually seeing him up-close. His whole spirit had shifted. Back then, he’d been like an open wound, barely being held together by exposed, bloody tendons that threatened to snap at any moment. He was different now—still wounded, but no longer in pieces.

There was something else in him too. Something dormant, but always on the verge of springing back to life. A quiet guilt.

“Flowers always been your thing?” Joel asked. You were grateful for the subject change.

“Pretty much. I used to know someone who loved them. Made me love them too.”

He nodded with an unexpected softness in his expression. It wasn’t pity, or even sympathy, but a warm kind of understanding.

“I know the flower stuff seems silly,” you said, looking down into the milky beige of your tea, “but it really is useful.”

“I know that,” Joel said. “I don’t think it’s silly.”

You could practically feel your chest split open that very second. Flowers sprouted from your heart, and they bloomed for Joel. They longed to reach out, wrap him up in their stems and vines and pull him into you.

Carnations. Chrysanthemums. Vervain.

You kept your composure until Joel left. You said your farewells, waved him off, shut the door, and immediately collapsed on your couch in a lovestruck heap. It was all so dramatic, the sofa may as well have been a bed of roses.

It wasn’t just that Joel was attractive—and fuck, he was attractive—it was the way he wholly and truly respected you. Respect was something you’d had to earn from everyone else around here, but Joel didn’t need any convincing. He saw your worth right away.

He was all you thought about for the rest of the day, the evening, until you went to bed that night. Even then, your mind wouldn’t stop racing.

These feelings were big, too big. Keeping them inside hurt, but you feared letting them out would be agony. They were safest with you, blossoming into flowers in your soul, where only you knew about them.

But still, you were wide awake, consumed by the urge to do something, say something.

So you got up, pulled your shoes on, went outside and picked a flower from your garden.

Jackson was desolate as you wandered down the street. The only residents awake at this hour were those on patrol. It might have been eerie if you weren’t so wound up. 

You scanned each house as you passed by, looking for Joel’s. Your heart pounded in your chest when you found it. You didn’t need to be so nervous, the lights were off, but you kept imagining someone walking out and catching you in the act. But you’d come this far, and his front door was just a few yards away.

You climbed the stone steps with a quiet urgency, twirling the flower between your fingers one last time before dropping it just outside his door.

A single gardenia.

You were going to leave it at just one flower—you didn’t want to be weird and scare Joel off before you really got to know him. But then Ellie came by the greenhouse again.

“Did you leave a flower on our front porch the other day?” she asked, watering a yarrow seedling.

“What? Why?” You felt so lame, and so stupid for forgetting that Ellie lived there too. Your gesture was bound to get intercepted.

“There was a white flower out there. I showed it to Joel, and we figured it was from you.” It was a very reasonable thing to figure considering it was from you.

“What did Joel say?” you asked, trying not to sound as desperate as you felt.

“He said it was for him.”

“So he took it?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “Don’t know what he did with it.”

Ellie wasn’t nearly as invested in this as you were, but it still sounded promising. Joel had accepted the flower, maybe even liked it. The thought made your stomach feel strange, like a bunch of petals were flurrying around in there.

“Well, it was for him…” you mumbled.

Ellie glared at you in feigned outrage. “I’m insulted.”

“What are you complaining about?” you laughed. “I gave you a flower.”

“It’s wilting.”

“Fine then”—you handed her a pair of pruning shears—“go cut yourself a new flower.”

She wandered around the greenhouse for about five minutes and came back spinning a flower between her thumb and index finger. It had pure white petals and a bright yellow pistil. “I chose this daisy.”

“That’s a cosmos,” you corrected. “It represents harmony and balance.”

Ellie assessed the flower in her hand, genuinely mulling over the meaning of it, and you realised how much you appreciated her. She saw value in something you cared about. 

“What did Joel’s mean?” she asked.

“I’m actually not sure about that one.” It was a total lie, but you sounded convincing enough that Ellie shrugged it off and carried on watering flowers.

You couldn’t help yourself after that. Knowing that Joel accepted your gift made you want to do it again. And again.

So you did. Every few days, when you were sure he and Ellie were asleep, you sauntered down to their house and dropped a flower outside the door. An aster, agapanthus, camellia…

Joel never mentioned it, and you never really expected him to, but the nods and soft smiles he gave you when he saw you around were enough to let you know he appreciated you.

But Joel would never know the true meaning of your flowers. It was better that way.

Maria and Tommy’s son was born later in the spring, and your garden had never seen so many visitors. The new parents were practically drowning in congratulatory flower arrangements, and eventually Tommy had to tell you to start turning people away.

One of these visitors happened to be Joel, and he was the one person you couldn’t turn away.

Unlike everyone else, Joel came to your door first. The slight nerves he’d had the first time he came over were gone, but so was the facade of sociability. Maybe this uncouth version of Joel should have irked you, but seeing him comfortable enough to drop the pretence just made you like him more.

“I need help with something,” he said, not even bothering with a hello.

“What is it?”

“A gift for the happy family,” he spoke bitterly, like he was actively trying not to grimace as the words came out.

“Flowers?”

“Flowers seem appropriate.”

Joel was strangely upset for someone who was welcoming their nephew into the world. You didn’t know the story between Tommy and Joel, just that they hadn’t seen each other for years before Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, and that Maria really disliked him.

But despite his sour attitude, it was clear Joel was trying. Whatever was weighing on him, he was pushing it down and choosing to be thoughtful for the sake of his family. Tommy could deal with one more bouquet.

You walked down to the greenhouse with Joel trailing behind you, his hands shoved into his pockets the entire time. On a better day, you would have tried to make conversation with him, but he obviously didn’t need that pressure right now.

He finally spoke up when you arrived at the greenhouse. “This place has seen better days.”

It wasn’t the flowers he was talking about, it was the structure itself. The contractor in him must have noticed the rusted metal pipes holding everything together, the holes and tears in the plastic sheets, and the fact that there was almost no room to walk.

“I know it’s bad,” you said with a nervous laugh. “It was built before I got here. I don’t think they used their finest materials.”

It was always cramped in here, but Joel being so broad and having such a presence made it even worse. He was closer to you now than he’d ever been. He smelled warm, like fresh coffee and leather and musk. It made your head spin.

“So, what kind of flowers are you thinking?” You needed to change the subject before you threw yourself at this man.

“Uh...pink?”

You laughed—you couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have been more vague if he tried.

“Why’s that funny?” He wasn’t mad, but he did seem impatient.

“Sorry,” you said, fighting back a smile. “Maybe you could elaborate on that?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned, running a hand over his prickly beard. “This is why I need help.”

You felt bad for laughing when he was so stressed out. He was overthinking something that should have been simple, and it made your heart ache for him. He was looking for guidance.

“We’ll do peonies for good fortune,” you told him, “and daffodils for new beginnings.”

His shoulders relaxed as some of the tension left him. Whatever was weighing on him was still there, but this was one thing that made it bearable. 

You walked back to your house after cutting the flowers, where there was actually space to work. You expected Joel to leave then, go home and wait until the flowers were ready like everyone else did, maybe even have you deliver them on his behalf, but he stayed by your side.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Joel asked, sitting across the table from you as you worked. “About flowers, I mean.”

You never got into this with anyone, but your inexplicable attachment to Joel compelled you to open up. Whatever pain resided in him reminded you of your own. He understood you.

“My mom had this book. She wrote down the meaning of every flower she knew of, and I guess I’ve memorised it all over the years,” you explained.

Talking about her didn’t hurt like you thought it would. It was actually a relief.

“When did it happen?” You knew what he was asking.

“First day,” you replied.

He nodded solemnly. “Me too.”

This wasn’t the first time you had seen through the gaps in Joel’s armour, but it was the first time he’d made the choice to let you. You didn’t know his limits, if those two words were as deep as he could get, but you wanted to see what would happen if you just asked.

“Joel?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t seem happy about this,” you said, straightforward but still cautious.

“I guess I’m not,” he admitted, looking down pensively.

“Why is that?”

“Just don’t understand bringing a kid into all this.”

You agreed with him. The people of Jackson were as safe as they could be, but outside the walls were infected, raiders, FEDRA, and a multitude of horrors too awful to speak of. It would only take one mistake for Jackson to be completely wiped out. You wouldn’t want to bring a child into a world like that either.

But you also knew that most people who had kids post-outbreak hadn’t done it by choice.

“It’s not as if people have access to birth control,” you pointed out, stacking peonies onto a piece of tissue paper. “But I don’t disagree.”

“It’s just a lot for me to wrap my head around,” Joel continued—or maybe he was starting on a completely different train of thought. “Tommy’s the uncle. He’s always been the uncle. I’m…“

He couldn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

“You still are,” you told him. “Tommy’s still an uncle.”

Joel was silent, letting your words sink in. It was cold comfort, and maybe you shouldn’t have said it, but it was what you believed.

“Why do people call you Rosebud?” The question took you aback. It was completely unrelated, yet felt so important. He was the first person in twenty years to ask you that question.

“My mom came up with it when I was little. It’s what everyone’s called me since.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Joel asked. “Seems like a constant reminder of what you lost.”

It was hard having to live without her, but you never wanted to forget what you lost. “I guess I like the reminders.”

His hand absent-mindedly fell to the broken watch on his wrist, and for a fleeting moment, you were seeing the man you first saw in December. An open wound. Marigold.

“She didn’t stop being my mom,” you said quietly. “I didn’t stop being her daughter.”

And as quickly as the wound opened, it was once again sewn shut. He even managed a smile. “You’re wise, kid. You know that?”

Kid.

Ouch.

It felt like a kick to the stomach. In an instant, the carnations that bloomed when you first saw Joel all those months ago, that had been so red and vibrant, faded into yellow.

You held yourself together until he left. You finished arranging the flowers, wrapped them up, handed them over to him, said goodbye and wished him luck, then trudged over to the couch and flopped down onto it—this time in a dejected heap.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had much of a chance with Joel, but this just felt so awfully final. It didn’t matter that you were basically thirty years old—in his mind, you were a kid.

It was embarrassing. You thought about the flowers you left—a quiet admission of feelings—and prayed the couch would swallow you whole and suffocate you. 

You’d gotten it all wrong. Joel never appreciated it. He probably thought it was weird and pathetic but didn’t have the heart to tell you. You wondered why he even accepted the initial flower, and if you weren’t feeling so spurned and humiliated, it might have dawned on you that you were overreacting.

You still left a flower that night, if only to get some closure. It would be the last one you ever left him.

A red tulip.

Joel came to your door one day in July.

You’d come to expect Ellie on your front porch at least once a week, but Joel wasn’t a surprise either. You were friends now, even after such an embarrassing rejection.

Joel still never mentioned the flowers. He was probably relieved when you stopped leaving them and wanted to pretend it never happened, and that was fine by you.

Being friends didn’t help matters though. He was always rough and grumpy in his Joel way, but he was sweet too. So sweet. It felt impossible to move on.

“Hey, Joel,” you said. “Need help with something?”

“I wanted to help you, actually.”

“Me?”

“I can’t keep lookin’ at that greenhouse,” Joel said. “It’s a piece of shit.”

You had to laugh at his honesty. “You want to patch it up?”

“Was thinking of taking the whole thing apart and rebuildin’ it.”

The offer stunned you. It was so generous and so out of nowhere. Your first instinct was to say no, that it wasn’t worth the trouble, but something stopped you. It was Joel coming to you in earnest and saying he wanted to help. It felt like an insult to deny him.

You smiled warmly and nodded. “Okay.”

“When can I get started?” he asked.

Shit. You had dozens of flower pots you didn’t know what to do with. “Uh, I’ll have to empty the greenhouse first. I guess I'll bring the flowers here in the meantime.”

“Ellie and I can help with that,” Joel said. “I’ll go get her.”

You blinked at him. “Now?”

“You got other plans?”

You absolutely did not. “Ah, no. Now is good.”

“Great.”

That was how you spent your day, lugging flower pots from the greenhouse and unloading them in your front yard with Joel and Ellie in tow. It was so lovely it bordered on being painful—pink roses unshed of their thorns pierced your heart.

You let yourself imagine for a moment that this was reality. That you, Joel and Ellie were a weird, happy family. The carnations in your soul had never been more yellow, and you instantly regretted indulging in that particular fantasy.

Joel was already at the greenhouse when you went there the next morning. He was up on a ladder, and half of the structure was already torn down. Rusted metal pipes and discoloured, ripped up plastic sheets were piling up a few feet away.

“Need any help?” you called out.

He looked down at you and smiled—a real, wide smile you hadn’t seen on him before. “You know what you’re doin'?”

“Not really.”

“Then, no,” he replied. “Don’t want you droppin’ anything on that pretty little head.”

Huh?

You flushed all over, wishing your couch was here so you could collapse onto it. Less than two months ago he was calling you a kid, and now he thought your head was pretty. The thought crept in that maybe he was purposely messing with you, but you liked Joel too much to entertain the idea.

“Well, I probably can’t help with the physical labour,” you said, cursing how nervous your voice sounded. “But if there’s anything else…”

“You’re a sweet one, Rosebud,” Joel said. He had to be doing this on purpose. “You just let me do my thing, and we’ll leave it a surprise.”

You laughed. “In other words, you’re telling me to get lost?”

He grinned at you fondly. “Just trust me.”

It only took one exchange for that hope to come back to life. You tried to stop it, tell yourself he was just teasing, that he didn’t mean it that way, but it was too late. Those carnations were already morphing back into a searing red.

You wanted to come by everyday and watch him work, but you stayed away and waited for him to come to you. It only took a few days for him to show up at your door, looking infuriatingly hot covered in blotches of sage green paint.

“Is it ready?” you asked.

“It’s ready.”

You followed along behind him, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t accidentally spot the new greenhouse before he was ready for you to look. You ended up just ogling his ass, which was a decidedly better and much more pinch-able sight than the ground.

“Look now.”

You lifted your gaze, and your hands flew up to your mouth as you let out a dramatic gasp.

It wasn’t just good, it wasn’t just an improvement, it was beautiful—masterfully pieced together with timber and painted the same sage green that Joel was sporting on his clothes. And it was bigger. There would actually be space for you to walk around inside.

Joel started to panic from beside you, and you realised you were crying. “Is it the green? I can repaint it if you hate it.”

You seemed to have lost the power of speech to reassure him, so instead, you threw your arms around him and held tight. The suddenness of it shocked him, and his hands found your waist. You weren’t sure if he was about to push you away or pull you in.

“So, you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” you snivelled into his shoulder. “Thank you, Joel.”

He hugged you back then, caging you in with his big arms and making you feel so safe. You felt a prickly sensation on your temple as he brushed his lips against it. 

Red tulips were threatening to burst out of you in droves. You didn’t want to let go, but you were seconds away from making a confession you couldn’t take back if you spent too much longer in his embrace.

You pulled yourself away, and even with the sun beating down on you, you missed his warmth.

He walked you back home, came inside when you offered him iced tea (you were out of coffee), drank it all even if it was too sweet for him, and all you could do was thank him repeatedly for what he’d done.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he said. “I wanted to do this for you.”

What did that mean?

“I’m sorry I never said anything,” Joel continued, a pink flush apparent on his cheeks.

“About what?” You knew exactly what.

“The flowers. I wanted to thank you, but I didn’t know how. I’m not used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Kindness.” He almost winced, like it hurt to say.

“It was weird. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t weird,” Joel assured you. “It was…nice. Bummed me out when you stopped.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I get it.”

You didn’t know what to say at this point. You didn’t want to be talking about any of it, and you were about to tell him that, ask him to move on from this, until he decided to put you on the absolute spot.

“What did they mean?”

Fuck. “Hm?”

“The flowers,” he said. “You said flowers have meaning. What did they mean?”

“I actually don’t know those ones.” That harmless little lie worked on Ellie, but Joel saw right through it.

“Why are you lying to me?” He didn’t even sound angry or annoyed, just genuinely curious, and a little sympathetic.

You considered doubling-down, insisting you didn't know, but you couldn’t do that him. It was a vulnerable conversation for not only you, but Joel as well. You understood how hard this was for him, and you cared for him too much to shut him down.

But you couldn’t say it, not verbally. Instead, you grabbed the notebook that was laying on your coffee table and held it out to him. There was a split second as he was reaching for it where you imagined yourself tugging it back out of his reach, forgetting about this entire thing, but then it was in his hands and it was too late. Nothing would ever be the same.

You held your breath as he flipped through it, his eyes flicking over the words. His face gave nothing away, but his finger was tracing over something.

Red tulip - declaration of love. 

He gently shut the book and set it down, and your eyes stayed firmly on the floor, hoping if you stared at it long enough it would split open and consume you.

“Are you surprised?” You couldn’t project your voice above a whisper.

“I guess not,” Joel said. It was the honest answer, and the one you most expected. “I thought you were just bein’ nice, then Ellie kept insisting you were interested.”

That girl was smarter than you gave her credit for—and you already thought she was very smart.

“I thought there was no way,” Joel continued. “You’re sweet and young and so pretty. I’m just an old man.”

“I don’t care how old you are,” you replied.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things...”

“I don’t care what you’ve done. I care who you are now.”

You were looking at him now. He looked moved, rapt, and not at all like someone about to deliver a devastating rejection.

“And you want me?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause where neither of you said anything, but the air was thick with an unspoken question: Where do we go from here?

“Can I kiss you, Rosebud?”

You nodded, and he did. It felt like dozens of chrysanthemums, camellias and carnations all springing to life under your skin.

He was gentle in a way you never could have imagined, cupping your cheek with his palm and holding your waist with the other. It was reminiscent of the hug you’d shared earlier, and you wondered if he’d wanted to kiss you then.

His lips were rough, a little chapped, but soft in the way he moved them. This wouldn’t be how he always kissed, you were sure of that. Someday it would be messy, frantic, all-consuming. But this careful, slow movement of his lips against yours was all you needed right now. 

He wanted to be gentle with you, because he cherished you like a rosebud.

flower translations:

rose (pink) - perfect happiness

rose (dark crimson) - mourning

carnation (red) - admiration

marigold - grief, despair

starwort - welcome to a stranger

chrysanthemum (red) - i love you

vervain - enchantment

gardenia - you’re lovely

yarrow - healing

aster - symbol of love

agapanthus - secret love

camellia (pink) - longing for you

peony - prosperity

daffodil (bunch) - new beginnings, hope, good luck

carnation (yellow) - rejection, disappointment

tulip (red) - declaration of love

rosebud (red) - pure, lovely

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction

[topguncortez]

Baby On Board- B.Floyd 

pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader word count: 6k (its a long one) type: angst warnings: top gun shit, child birth, near death experiences, cursing. synopsis: being placed on a top secret mission weeks before his wife's due date was not what Lt. Floyd had imagined married life would be like.

note: thank you so much for 600! it's crazy how much this blog has grown in such little time! keep sending in requests!

She was his highschool sweetheart. From the moment Bob laid eyes on Y/N their freshman year of highschool, even with braces and acne and a ridiculous haircut, he knew that she was going to be his wife. She was perfect, smart, popular, kind to everyone and he was. . . well he was just Bob. A dork, a nerd, sweet and kind and too pure for this world. He could remember how badly he was sweating and shaking as he approached her lunch table, some cheesy valentine’s day card in his hand and asked her to the school dance. He thought he would get laughed at, but his heart filled with even more love as she pulled out a valentine of her own to give to him. 

Bob had shocked everyone when he decided to go into the navy, including Y/N. They had talked about their futures, and Bob had briefly mentioned going into the navy, but he wasn't certain. So when he came home and told her he enlisted, she was shocked but proud of him. Her heart broke when he left for boot camp, and would wait by the phone or mailbox for a call or letter from him. When he came home with a buzzed cut, a bouquet of flowers and a ring, they both knew they didn’t want to be apart from each other. They got married in a small ceremony in his parents backyard, it was like a fairytale for both of them. 

Both Bob and Y/N had agreed that they wanted kids. They weren’t ever too keen on actively trying for kids, but they weren’t doing anything to actively prevent it either. At first, they were going to let nature do its thing, agreeing that it’ll happen when it happens. But after two years of nothing, they knew that it was time for some intervention. It broke Bob’s heart when the doctor told them it was going to be nearly impossible for them to have a baby of their own. He watched as the light in her eyes diminished. She told him that she was okay, that it would be fine, but Bob could hear her crying in the bathroom when she thought he was asleep. 

Bob stood by her side though, never leaving her. He held her hand in doctors appointments, when they had decided on doing hormonal treatments, Bob was always on track with timing, and keeping track of everything. When he noticed that her body had started to change, and her mood was different and her period was late, he went out and bought every kind of pregnancy test there was to get. He sat by her side on the bed as they waited for the timer to go off, and was the first to look at the results. 

Seven months later, Bob and Y/N were glaring at each other from across the kitchen. Her belly had popped some weeks ago, and she was now supporting a nice round bump. She looked on the verge of tears as Bob had explained the document that was sitting in between the two of them. He was being called back to TOPGUN, something that he never thought would happen. The first time around, they had been married for only about a year, and Bob was excited to be chosen to go. He got permission to take his wife with him, and that was all he needed. Now, things have changed.

Y/N was not thrilled at all about Bob being called back. There was no other information on the document other than time and place to be. They had arranged on base housing for the both of them, but they both knew that Y/N couldn’t leave Lemoore. It wasn’t a good idea for her to be far away from her doctor, not when time was ticking away closer to her due date. 

“Why can’t they send someone else?” Y/N asked, running a hand through her hair, “Can you tell them I’m pregnant?” 

“Did,” Bob sighed, “Technically the baby isn’t born yet so I don’t get any sort of paternity leave. I would still only get 21 days anyway.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, of course he didn't, “There’s nothing you can do?” 

“It’s non negotiable. You can come with-” 

“Come with!?  Bob, look at me, I’m the size of a water buffalo-“ 

“No you’re not-“ 

“Shut up,” Y/N said, getting angry. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and turned on her heel and left the kitchen in tears. Bob sighed, knowing the majority of this was caused by pregnancy hormones but it still didn’t make it any easier. He knew that there was a possibility of him getting a last minute deployment or special detachment, like this one, that could take him away from Y/N and his unborn child. He just didn’t think it would ever come true. Bob grabbed the sheet of paper and read it over again. Doing the math in his head, he should be back in time before Y/N has their baby, but it still didn’t bring him any comfort.

He pushed himself from his spot, walking to the freezer to get an orange crush popsicle for Y/N, and then walked down the hall. He found her sitting on their shared bed, looking out the window. Bob sat down next to her and offered her the popsicle. 

“Thanks,” She murmured. 

“I know it’s not ideal-” 

“No, it’s not,” Y/N sniffled as she opened up her popsicle. 

“You could come with. . .” 

“Bob, I’m seven months pregnant. I don’t think it would be a good idea.” 

“It’s also not a good idea to have you here alone either,” Bob said and Y/N sighed, “At least, if you’re in Miramar with me, I’d be there in a matter of minutes if something happened,” He grabbed her free hand and intertwined their fingers, “Up here, yeah we are alone, but you’ll be even more alone if something happened and I’m seven hours away. It would bring peace of mind to me, if you came with me.” 

“Well,” Y/N sighed, “Looks like we’re both going back to TOPGUN.” 

Bob smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then slid off the bed to kneel in front of her, both hands going to her growing belly. It always made her giggle at how Bob’s large hands could cover her whole bump, but it also brought her a sense of security. 

“You, my little one, can’t make any surprise appearances while we are there, you hear me? You stay right in here for the next six weeks and we won’t have an issue,” Bob said to her belly, and got a small kick in return, “I think they understood me,” He said looking up at you with his lopsided grin. 

“I’m sure they did.” 

— — —

It was almost too hot to do anything, even by the ocean in Miramar. Y/N had told herself when she got pregnant, she didn’t want to be pregnant during the hot months, but living in California, it was always hot. The drive down had been awful, having to stop almost every hour so she could pee, or being constantly uncomfortable. Bob felt bad, knowing that she was only doing this for him, but he let her complain as much as she wanted to. Bob had heard that everyone was gathering at the Hard Deck, a local bar that he and Y/N had frequented the first time around at TOPGUN. Y/N had opted not to go with him, as she wanted to just stay in the air conditioning of their tiny on base house. 

Y/N had done what she could to make herself comfortable while being in Miramar. She went grocery shopping, to the beach a couple times, met with one of the OB’s on base (which Bob had gotten out of training early to do), but for the most part she kept a low profile, trying to stay as cool as she possibly could in the southern california heat. Her favorite part of the day was when Bob would come home, and lay his head in her lap and tell their child all about his day. His eyes always lit up as he talked about the simulations and the dogfighting. He would get so animated about it, it was adorable. 

Y/N knew bits and pieces about the mission. She knew it was dangerous, that there was a lot at stake. Bob didn’t want to worry her too much at this stage in her pregnancy, but she had kind of gathered that them all being called back meant that it was serious. She tried not to think of a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t alive and she hated it. But Bob reassured her as much as he possibly could that he would make it back to her. 

The team didn’t know much about Robert Floyd, other than he was a WSO and Phoenix’s back seater. He was quiet, kept to himself, and would speed off after showering at the end of the day. Phoenix had tried to pry some information out of him, but got nothing more than his full name, where he was from, and where he was currently stationed. Bob didn’t talk much about himself, and Phoenix kind of liked that. He was different from the usual cocky, arrogant (hangman) pilots she was used to working with. 

“So Bob, what do you plan on doing when you get out of here?” Phoenix had asked him, as they were headed to the trial run zone. It was day four of doing the trial course, and no one had successfully completed it. 

“I bet he is going to have himself a cold glass of ice water,” Coyote joked and Bob rolled his eyes. 

“Oh shut it,” Phoenix laughed, “I bet he’ll go home and watch the office or something.” 

“I prefer ‘friends’ over the office,” Bob said, thinking of his wife’s favorite show. 

“Alright, dagger 1 easing in, time starting in 3, 2, 1,” Phoenix said as she started into the simulation. 

Bob looked down at his radar, watching as Phoenix and Coyote made the twists and turns of the simulation, feeling his body jostle from side to side. It never got easier, the more that they ran the course, it seemed to somehow get worse. His body felt heavier, his lungs felt like they would explode. He would find bruises on his sides from hitting the side of the cockpit at such forces. Bob eyed their time, seeing that they were keeping up a good speed, until he caught another plane on the radar. 

“Oh no, it’s Maverick!” Bob said. 

“What?! Where is he!?” Phoenix called out, and Bob looked around the clear canopy into the sky, trying to see if he could spot Maverick. 

“Lost him in the sun!” Bob called out, “Coyote, you see him!?” 

“Man, he’s on my tail,” Coyote said, “Line it up, Bob.” 

“Roger!” Bob said, controlling his laser to line up the shot, except he couldn’t get control of it. He swore under his breath as he tried but it was no use, “Dead eye! I can’t get it to lock!” 

“Dropping in blind then,” Coyote said, and tried to line up the laser the best he could. 

Bob could feel when Phoenix shifted the trajectory of the jet, sending them into a steep incline upward. Bob fought against the Gs being pushed on his body as he tried to keep his eyes open and himself conscious. Maverick had somehow shown back up, and stimulated a dogfight with them, until they realized they had lost comms with Coyote. He had gone into g-loc, and Maverick moved quickly to line up a shot, sending a loud buzzing sound into his cockpit. Bob took a sigh in relief as they got Coyote back, but the relief was short-lived when Maverick called out the bird strike. 

“We’re on fire!” Bob called out, looking to see the left engine ablaze. 

“Extinguishing!” Phoenix said, flipping a switch, “Lost hydraulics, losing altitude, I-I can’t control it!” 

“Right engine on fire! We’re gonna burn in!” Bob’s voice was filled with panic, as he felt their jet start to drop from the sky. 

“You have to eject!” Maverick called, “Phoenix, Bob! Eject, eject, eject!” 

“Fuck! Eject, eject, eject!” Phoenix yelled out, as she hit the button to eject both of them. Bob covered his head as the canopy shot off, and he felt himself get pushed out of the cockpit. The next thing he felt was his feet hitting the ground. 

— — — 

The last thing any military wife ever wants is a call from the hospital saying that their husband had been injured. When Y/N arrived at the hospital, frantic with tears in her eyes, a nurse had guided her down to the room her husband was in. She felt the confused looks and stares of the aviators in the hallway as she passed by them on the way to Bob’s room. She had even heard one of them ask who she was and another say they didn’t know. Bob was busy flipping through the tv channels when she got to his room, he looked over at her and smiled weakly. 

“Hey baby,” Bob said and Y/N rushed to his side, as Bob engulfed her in a hug, “Shh, I’m okay, I’m okay.” He soothed her, while rubbing her back as she cried as she sat on his bed. 

“Jesus Christ Robert, don’t ever scare me like that again,” Y/N said, pulling away from him, and wiping her tears, “What the hell happened?” 

“Bird Strike, lost control of the jet, had to eject. Nothing but a couple bruises and a sore tailbone,” Bob smiled, and Y/N shook her head, “Are you okay?” 

“You’re asking me that?” 

“You’re the pregnant one.” 

“You’re the one who just ejected from a plane at 500 feet in the air.” 

“Touche,” Bob said, as there was a knock on the door. Y/N turned her head to see a brunette woman peeking her head in with a shy smile on her face. 

“The guys said you had company, I hope you don’t mind me coming to check on you?” The woman said, looking between the two of her. 

Bob looked at you and you smiled, “No, not at all,” He said, “This is Phoenix, the main driver,” Bob said introducing the two of them, “Phoenix this is my wife, Y/N.” 

“Oh- wow, Bob never-” 

“Stealth pilot,” Y/N smiled and held her hand out to greet Phoenix, “It’s nice to meet you. He’s told me all about you. You’re pretty cool from what it sounds like.” 

“You flatter me,” Phoenix said with a slight blush, “How far along?” 

“Eight months. Not exactly my ideal location to be in, but,” Y/N shrugged and Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her to sit back down on the bed, “How are you doing? I can’t imagine what it was like.” 

“I’m okay, a little shaken up. I’m more concerned that Bob has hidden you away from us and made me suffer with the rest of the testosterone freaks out there.” Phoenix said and sat down in a chair by the bed. 

Bob knew it was no use hiding Y/N from Phoenix, so he had told his pilot all about his wife, how they met, how he proposed, their wedding, their house, and even about their baby. Phoenix was surprised at how talkative Bob could be when he was talking about something he loved. She knew he could rattle off information about an F-18 and missiles and flight trajectory, but when it came to talking about his life, Phoenix was surprised. He had hardly let Y/N get a word in and Phoenix would laugh at how Y/N just looked at him. 

Y/N would’ve liked it if Bob would’ve been able to stay home after having to eject from his plane, but the mission was still a go. It was only three days after the bird strike that he was packing his bags and headed to get on the carrier. Y/N had driven him to base, much to his dismay since he didn’t want her driving with her belly in the way. She tried to hide her tears as she put the car in park and looked at the daunting aircraft carrier. 

“It’s only three days,” Bob said, looking at his hands, “Three days and-and I come home to you and our baby.” He placed his hand on her bump, feeling their little one move around. 

“I know,” Y/N said, “Swear to God, if you don’t-”

“I will,” Bob said, cutting her off. He leaned over the console, holding her face in his hands and kissed her. It took her breath away, the type of kiss that is supposed to be a constant reminder. It left her lips tingling as he pulled back, “I’ll see you in three days.” Y/N nodded as Bob got out of the car. She saw Phoenix waiting next to her car and sent her a small smile and wave. Phoenix gave her a nod in response and hugged Bob. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath as she watched the two of them walk towards the ship, “Three days little one, no sudden movement for three days.” 

— — — 

Y/N tried to keep herself distracted but she couldn’t help but stare at the clock, knowing that any second her husband’s plane would be taking off from the middle of the pacific ocean and would be flying towards a certain death. She knows that he promised to come home, but nothing is ever promised in this life. Y/N looked down at the hot mug of tea in front of her and felt a stray tear run down her cheek. She had gotten to the point in her pregnancy where she didn’t even know she was crying until the tear hit her shirt. She sniffled and placed her hand on her belly, just as she felt a cramping sensation. 

“No. . .” She mumbled to herself and let out a shaky breath, “Please stop, don’t do this.” Y/N had been feeling contractions since Bob left. She knew that braxton hicks were common and had been feeling those since month seven, but now, these felt different. These felt stronger and she could feel her stomach dropping. 

Y/N pushed herself away from the counter and slowly started making her way towards her bedroom. Laying down usually helped subside the contractions and the pelvic pain. Y/N paused as she felt the warmth of a liquid rushing down her legs as she stood in the hallway. She closed her eyes and clutched her stomach, hoping that maybe, just maybe this was all a dream and she had just peed herself in the hallway, rather than her water breaking. But when she opened her eyes at the feeling of a contraction, she knew it was very much real. 

“No, no, no,” She felt tears in her eyes as she moved down the hallway towards the kitchen where she had left her phone. Her first instinct was to dial Bob’s number, which she did, but when it went straight to voicemail, she panicked even more. She gripped the counter as another contraction ripped through her body. This wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not how this was supposed to happen. The next number she dialed was Penny’s, which the older woman had given to her after getting to know her at Iceman’s funeral. 

“Hello?” Penny’s voice sounded through the receiver. 

“Penny, I-I need your help,” Y/N’s voice cracked, “My water broke.” 

“Oh my god,” Penny said, and Y/N could hear her get up and grab her keys, “Stay where you are, I am on my way. If you need to push, do it, don’t try and fight it.” 

“I can’t have this baby alone!” Y/N cried. 

“I know, I know, I’m on my way, just breathe okay,” Penny said and Y/N nodded. 

Penny arrived after a short time, and helped Y/N get to the on base hospital. They had admitted her right away, and Y/N was thankful that Penny had decided to stay by her side. Penny had once been in Y/N’s shoes. Her now ex-husband had been on deployment when Amelia was born, and Penny was by herself in the delivery room, no family, no friends, just her and the nurses and doctor. Penny wasn’t going to leave Y/N alone, knowing very well she would’ve wanted someone to stay with her. 

“Breathe through it, there ya go,” Penny said as she dabbed at the sweat collecting on Y/N’s forehead, “I left a message for Maverick and Hondo. I called in a favor from an old friend to hopefully contact the ship and get a message to Admiral Simpson.” 

“I can’t have this baby without him,” Y/N cried, out of pure exhaustion. Even though her water broke, she was still going on hour eight of labor, waiting for her cervix to dilate and the baby to drop down even more. The nurses all shared a look, and Penny could read their faces. She had heard them say something to the doctor about being worried about maternal exhaustion. 

“I know you don’t, but you might have to,” Penny said, and Y/N shook her head as another contraction hit. Y/N groaned in pain as she gripped the side rail, her knuckles turning white. Penny grabbed the white bucket next to her and placed it in front of her incase Y/N was sick again. 

When Y/N felt her body relax, she let out a small cry and leaned back against the bed. Penny had hoped that the call she put in with her father would somehow reach the ship. She wished that Iceman was still alive, knowing he’d stop at nothing to get Bob from the ship and straight to the hospital. But all Penny could do was hold Y/N’s hand and wipe the sweat from her forehead. Y/N’s mind was wandering as she thought of the mission Bob was on, and prayed that he was alive and not dead somewhere in a European mountain range. 

— — — 

Life or death, Bob had seen the flash of death right in front of his eyes as Phoenix had navigated them through Coffin Corner. He felt his heart sink when he watched Maverick’s plane get shot down, and he felt like his heart stopped hearing Rooster go down too. Bob did what he could to comfort Phoenix as they flew back to the ship, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off. They hadn’t been on the carrier long, when they heard that Rooster’s beacon had been turned back on, and Hangman had been instructed to go on the flight mission to bring them back.  

The second Maverick buzzed by the tower, the tarmac broke out in cheer, as he landed and both of them had a large smile on their faces. Bob and Phoenix rushed over to Rooster, hugging him tightly. Bob had a bright smile on his face as he celebrated with his team. 

“Lt Floyd!?” A voice called out for him. Bob turned around to see Admiral Simpson running towards him. 

“Yes sir?” Bob asked, his heart racing slightly. 

“You need to come with us right away, it’s a family emergency.” 

Bob felt light headed as the Admiral’s words hit his ears. Bob had just escaped death with his team and now he felt a sudden rush of doom. Fanboy and Payback shared a look, confused on what the admiral had just said. As far as anyone knew, Bob didn’t have any family, Bob was a lone ranger. But the look on Phoenix’s face said otherwise. 

“Go!” Phoenix said, pushing him towards the admiral. Bob stumbled on his feet but took off sprinting, trying not to let his mind go to the worse case scenario. Phoenix looked over her shoulder and noticed her fellow aviators looking at her confused, and sighed, “He’s married, and has a wife, who’s very pregnant.” 

Hondo was waiting for Bob when he entered the tower, and relayed the information he had gathered from Admiral Bates. Bob couldn’t digest most of it, but what he gathered was that his wife was in labor and he was stuck on an aircraft carrier in the middle of nowhere after almost dying. Hondo directed him to the admiral’s office where they gave Bob some privacy to call his wife. Bob sat down in the chair, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone and dialed her number, something he memorized.

“Bob, thank god,” Penny answered. 

“H-hey Penny, how is she?” Bob asked, trying to bite back tears. 

“She’s getting checked by the nurses right now, I stepped out when I saw you call. She’s,” Penny sighed and looked down at her shoes, “They are worried about maternal exhaustion. She’s in hour 12 of labor, eight centimeters dilated and trying to fight it. She says she won’t do this without you.” 

“She has too,” Bob said, feeling a tear run down his cheek, “She has to do this. And I swear to god, she will never have to do this alone again. I need to talk to her.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Penny said, and walked back into the room. Her heart broke seeing Y/N in such pain as she laid on her side. The nurse gave Penny a look, and she nodded, “Y/N, it’s Bob. I’m putting him on speaker.” 

“Oh my god, Bob?” Y/N asked, her voice wavering in pain. Bob felt his heart break as he bit back a sob. He buried his face into his flight suit before speaking up. 

“Hi babe,” Bob said, “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” 

“No, not at all,” She sniffed, “God, why can’t you be here. Why now? They’ve been stubborn this whole time, but now?” 

“I know,” He laughed, “But love, you have to stop trying to fight it, okay, you need to let them help you. It’ll only make things harder for you, for the baby.” 

“Bob, I can’t do it,” Y/N protested and closed her eyes, feeling a contraction. Bob heard her suck in a breath and let out a whimper in pain. Penny grabbed her hand and helped her breathe through it. Bob wished so badly he could be there with her, all he ever wanted to do was be a father and he is completely missing it. 

“She’s at ten,” A nurse said, “She keeps putting it off, she won’t be able to push.” 

“Baby, you need to listen to them,” Bob said, sitting up straighter in his seat, “You need to do this okay. I’m right here, Penny is there. You need to bring our baby into the world.”��

“No!” Y/N sobbed and Penny felt tears in her own eyes, “No! I won’t! I want to go home, let me go home!” 

“You’re elevating your heart rate, Y/N,” Her nurse said, walking over to the bed and looking at the EEG reading, “If this continues we’ll have to do a c-section. Y/N, it’s time to push.” 

Bob felt his heart stop. That was the absolutely last thing he wanted her to have to do. It was bad enough she was in labor by herself, he didn’t want to have her go under the knife alone. The nurses and the midwife started to move around, getting everything set up for delivery. Penny helped Y/N get to her back and sit up in the bed. The midwife put Y/N’s feet in the stirrups. 

“Y/N, listen to me,” Bob said sternly, “You have to listen to them, you have to push, okay. I’m right here, I’m doing the best I possibly can.” 

“This isn’t fucking fair,” Y/N cried, and gripped Penny and the nurse’s hand as she felt a contraction and what felt like the baby’s head dropping lower in her birth canal. 

“I know,” Bob answered, “But you can do it okay, listen to the doctors.” Y/N nodded and Penny wiped her forehead. 

The midwife looked up at Y/N and gave her a sad smile, “Alright, Y/N on the next contraction, I need you to push okay. You know your body better than any of us.” 

Y/N nodded and let out a shaky breath. She felt the cramping of a contraction and sucked in a deep breath. When the contraction hit, she pushed, closing her eyes and letting out a groan. Bob closed his eyes, not being able to imagine the pain she was in. With every push that the midwife would count out, Y/N’s groans and cries got louder. He could tell as the time went on that she was getting more and more exhausted. 

“Jesus Chrsit, I can’t do this,” Y/N said breathlessly as she leaned against the back of the bed. 

“You’re so close, Y/N, I can see the baby’s head,” The midwife said, “Next one push as hard as you can.” 

“You got this babe, come on,” Bob said. He heard the midwife tell her to push, “Come on sweetheart, push hard, you got this, come on love.” 

“Crowning!” The midwife called out and Y/N let out a loud cry, “This is the hardest part, you are right here, you can do this. Give me a big push and bring this baby into the world.” 

Y/N moved slightly, and beared down as she pushed hard, feeling a burning sensation as the baby’s head was pushed out of her birthing canal. She closed her eyes tightly, gripping on to Penny and the nurse’s hands for dear life. Bob was saying encouraging words but it was all drawn out as the pain subsided and Y/N felt her body relax. 

“One more, give me one more,” The midwife said, “The hardest part is over, you can do it.” 

“Bob,” Y/N’s voice shook. 

“This is it, you can do it, bring our baby into the world.” Bob said. 

She clenched her jaw tightly, she was surprised that she didn’t break her teeth as she pushed with all her might. It was like white hot pain, almost like breaking a bone, as she felt the baby being pulled from her womb. She let out a broken cry as she felt a weight being placed on her chest, a loud cry filling the room. Y/N’s hands went straight to the squirming newborn on her chest and looked down to see their big brown eyes. Her mind was so overclouded with stimulation that she couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“It’s a girl!” She heard the midwife say and Y/N cried even harder. 

Bob wasn’t fighting back tears anymore as he held his head in his hands and sobbed, hearing the cry of his daughter over the phone. This wasn’t how he expected the delivery of his rainbow baby to go. He always expected him to be right by his wife’s side, holding her hand, sitting behind her as she pushed, encouraging her, seeing his daughter the second she was brought into this world, being able to cut the cord. Instead, he was hearing her loud cries from the middle of the ocean. 

“We’re going to weigh her and clean her up, then we’ll give her right back, okay,” The nurse said to Y/N. She was still so exhausted all she could do was nod, “Congrats momma, and you too, dad!” 

Bob nodded, and wiped his tears, “I love you so much,” He cried out, his voice breaking. 

“I love you too,” Y/N said. 

“I’m going to let you go, okay, I promise, I will be there as soon as I get docked in Miramar. You need to sleep, you did so good, so good, I am so proud of you,” Bob said, knowing he was probably talking to her sleepy self. 

“I love you, Bob,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you when you get here.” 

They said their goodbyes and Bob hung up. He sat there with his head in hands for a bit longer, looking down at the ground. The events of the day started to hit him all at once, and the tears fell down his face uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking as he cried. He didn’t even notice Phoenix walked into the office. Phoenix’s mind went to the worst possible thing as she walked over to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Bob looked up at her, his brown eyes wet with tears. 

“Bob-” 

“I’m a dad,” He said, “I’m a fucking dad!” 

“Oh my god!” Phoenix said, pulling Bob from his seat and hugged him. She pulled back from the hug and looked at him, “Is everything okay? Y/N? The baby?” 

“A healthy little girl,” Bob smiled, “Y/N’s okay, the best she can be for having a baby on her own. But . . I’m a girl dad.” 

— — — 

She knew she had slept too long, even though she had been a mom for less than a day, she knew she still slept too long. Y/N groaned as she opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh light above her head. Her body was still sore, especially her lower region. Penny had been a godsend helping her through the night when she had to get up and pee or wanted to walk around. Y/N rubbed her eyes as she looked towards the small basnet that was placed by her bed, to find it empty. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around the room frantically to hear the sweet voice she had been waiting to hear. 

“Looks like Mom is up,” Bob said, walking over to his wife. Y/N’s heart settled back down as she saw the small bundle of blankets in his arms. He hadn’t even change18d bbout of his flight suit and it looked like he hadn’t slept in hours, but Bob still looked amazing, “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you but the second I saw her I knew that I-” 

“It’s okay,” She said, her voice still gravely from screaming during labor, “You’re here.” 

“I’m here,” Bob said and sat down on her bed, “And you will never have to do that alone again, I promise.” 

“Bob, I can’t ask you to give up what you love.” 

“But I love this more,” Bob said, looking between his wife and his daughter. 

“She looks like you,” Y/N said, “Those eyes are exactly like yours.” Bob smiled as his daughter opened her tired eyes, “She doesn’t have a name yet. I was waiting for you so we can name her.” 

Bob studied his daughter. Names were something that the two of them had spent some time going back and forth on. Neither one was quite set on a certain name, agreeing that once they saw their child they would be able to know what their name should be. Bob ran his finger gently down her face as she yawned. 

“Eleanor,” Bob said and looked at his wife, “Eleanor May Floyd.”

--- --- ---

taglist: @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @chaoticassidy @n3ssm0nique @teti-menchon0604 @hrandomthoughts @shizzybarnaclee @the-hottest-lieutenants @blindedbyyourgrace17 @bxwitched @multifandom-fangirl4 @lunamoonbby @bellamy1998 @ellabellabus @bl6ody @dempy @callmebymym @malums-trash-can @sugarmelonwater @milesrooster @thesithdiaries

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[insult-2-injury]

To Crush a Foe

Tartaglia x f!reader NSFW 6K

Wrote this months ago for @chickenparm and her hydro husband 💦

AO3 Link (fluff, pining, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, friends to lovers, reader is traveler)

~ ~ ~ ~

Surreal. That was the word you decided on; that strange fusion of emotion that went along with the final crushing of a former foe. Not in the crossing of swords, this time, no, but in the acceptance of a simple invitation.

Gods, if someone had told you one year ago you’d be sitting here eating supper with Childe’s family, you would have had yourself a good laugh right in their face.

“How did you fare on the ship ride over, dear?”

“Hm?”

His mother smiled. The charming ease of it was uncannily reminiscent of your red-haired travel companion beside you, who only smirked at your quiet, nervous reverie. If you sat anywhere else, outside the comforts of Childe’s kitchen maybe, you’d smack him upside the head in an instant for that.

You’d avoid such confrontation here. 

“It was great!” You felt your face heat at the over-enthusiastic crack in your voice. Why were you so nervous suddenly? You had nothing to prove here. “Truthfully, I stayed inside the cabin most of the trip. Here I thought Dragonspine was cold.”

“Well I’m certain you’ll adapt just fine,” his mother said. “From what we’ve heard, you’re quite the adventurer. Our Ajax is lucky to have you.”

You blinked. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like: the implication of him bringing you here. You could only hope that Childe had set the record straight: that you were just two people who had put aside a lifetime of differences in order to tolerate the other. Friends, you’d almost call it. Comrades, he would say in that unerringly cheerful voice of his.

You nearly jumped when Childe’s palm reached to wrap the top of your leg beneath the table, squeezing slightly.

“Forgive her for the spaciness, mother, she’s not used to the company of humans.”

You whipped your head over to him with an incredulous frown, dislodging his too familiar touch by crossing your legs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Relax. I only mean she has an… interesting array of travel companions.” You narrowed your eyes at the impish grin crawling across his lips, both of you knowing full well he’d be calling Paimon a floating flour bag if his mother weren’t sitting right there.

“Oh what, like you’re just some ordinary guy?”

He chuckled. “Far from it!” The table creaked as he leaned forward on his elbows, addressing his siblings.

“I kid, of course. It’s just as I said in my letters home. The traveler here has embarked on adventures all across Teyvat, each more impressive than the last. It’s a wonder she doesn’t have a big head.” He gestured with his fork toward Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon, who sat like grinning ducks in a row. “You know… you’d be wise not to mess with her.”

The back of your neck prickled and you reached up to scratch at the heat. The center of attention was never a spot you particularly enjoyed. 

“I’m not so scary.”

“See,” Childe said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “this one’s as tricky as they come. Don’t let her fool you, she’s a force. May have even knocked the wind out of me once or twice.”

You’d done more than that. You shook your head, something tender and nervous fluttering in your chest at the flattery.

“Enough talk about me,” you said, waving him off and addressing the kids. “Tell me about your adventures.”

And as they did, you became lost in thought.

Why had you accepted his invitation again?

Oh yeah, because he’d been relentless about it. Sending you letter after letter to come visit his family, along with pictures. Pictures of the gifts he’d sent over for his younger siblings' birthdays, the extravagant meals he’d eaten on his latest adventures. So many letters and pictures that it became something of suspicion to your other traveling companions. 

And you were hopelessly intrigued, warmed by the trust he put in you, each battle making it progressively harder to find a way to dig into that diminishing well of rancor in your chest that had existed so strongly only a year prior. 

But you’d pushed that flicker of affection aside and you’d told him to cut it out, that sending you messages across Teyvat was nothing short of reckless, but he’d matched your fervor with a cheeky smile.

“What, a guy can’t send a letter to a friend?” he’d said before unleashing a torrent of hydro upon you.

And he had worn you down– so much so that one day you’d just… accepted. Plain and simple; sent a single word answer back: Fine.

Gods, you wanted to fight him. You wanted that hand on your thigh again.

“Did Ajax get you properly packed, then?”

“Hm?”

She smiled and repeated herself.

“Oh. Sort of. He sent a checklist and I did the rest. I did get an – unnecessary – talking to about my wardrobe selection on the way here, though.”

Childe smirked. “All she packed were pretty little sundresses-”

“He’s lying.”

His booted feet crossed at the ankles as he balanced back in his chair, chin tilted down so he could properly examine you.

“I did give you a bit of a hard time, didn’t I, traveler? You weren’t too happy with me at all.” He reached over and playfully flicked a loose piece of hair that had been covering the full extent of your side glare. He laughed and turned to his mother. “You should’ve seen the way she was huddled up in the cabin, it was quite the entertainment. Folded herself up like the cutest little block of ice.”

Your heart skipped a beat, face heating, but he seemed all too casual. Cute? Who was he calling cute? You vowed to serve his head on a platter at the next family meal.

“It’s much colder at sea,” you muttered. 

“You wouldn’t believe it now, mother, but there was a time she’d have had my head for teasing her like this.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out just yet.” Your eyes darted across the table to meet his mother’s twinkling gaze. You felt the uneasy furrow in your brow immediately begin to smooth and softly, you smiled back at her.

Childe re-crossed his arms cheerfully. “Luckily we’re on better terms now, aren’t we traveler?”

“Not for much longer.”

His family laughed. Unable to meet his gaze, you dropped your eyes to your plate, clanking your silverware around, feeling like a nervous child.

The rest of supper was uneventful, all things considered. You told them of your adventures; the choleric skies of Inazuma, the rolling hills of Sumeru, embellishing a bit only for the benefit of the younger Teucer, who sat on his hands, looking between Childe and you with a shining devotion.

The boy, then, with the enthusiasm of a dog with a bone, launched into the story of that day at the “toy factory”, when you’d seen the first glimpses of the shadows Childe hid inside. It both pleased and saddened you to know that the boy held the memory so close to his heart. 

So shockingly in tune you were with the outward flow of Childe’s energy that it was impossible to ignore the near imperceptible shift in his demeanor. You peeked at him. Childhood had to end somewhere, of course, but knowing what you did about Childe, the last breath of innocence had come for him much too soon. Which made Teucer’s fearlessness all the more troubling to him.

“I worry.” Childe had written to you once in a letter. “I was never so bold as him. Not then at least.”

Those shadows of himself, they weren’t so easily hidden from you now.

Childe’s fingers tapped lightly upon his thigh and like a rubber band pulled taut, your hand snapped toward him with zero destination, your heart solely aching with the sudden need to comfort. He stilled, gaze dropping surprised on your fingers fluttering uncertainly upon the bare skin of his forearm.

Embarrassed, you moved to pull away, but quick as a flash, his hand snatched you back, warm, gloveless fingers capturing yours, threading them through and tightening. 

Teucer kept talking, everyone clueless but perhaps his attentive mother to the pyro burst that had just singed through your every waking nerve, something a lot like terror running rampant through your veins. Your skin felt too hot at the simple touch, stomach too tight. 

You jumped when Childe chuckled at Teucer’s exuberance. His hand idly squeezed yours, thumb rubbing idle circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger. When his head quirked to the side and found you quietly studying him, the corner of his lips began to curl into the makings of a soft smile.

You looked away, swallowing around the tightness in your throat.

He liked to be near people; liked to hug and touch arms and ruffle hair. But this was a gesture that implied the two of you spoke often through touch. 

Well, you suppose that wasn’t entirely untrue. 

You fought often, after all, and battle was an intimate affair; breaths intermingling, swords locking as you met in the middle again and again. Insults would fly, sweat would mix, your own gasps of exertion displacing that damp lock of ginger hair that always plastered to the center of his forehead when you’d been at it for awhile. The mere thought of it now had heat pooling like liquid gold in your belly.

You yanked away from the intimate grip and flew up from your seat to start helping his mother at the sink. With a yawning stretch, Childe stood and started clearing the rest of the dishes and your heart squeezed at the sight of this domestic side of him.

Teucer’s arms wrapped your legs from behind. “I’m so glad you��re dating my brother.”

The laugh on your lips turned into a choke as your brain short-circuited, thoughts turning to mush as your eyes widened on Childe, who’d frozen mid-step, a stack of dishes fitted into the crook of his elbow. You could almost see the cogs turn in his mind as mischief flared in his eyes like a lit match, terribly devilish when coupled with the slight upturn of his lips. He cocked his head at you as if to say “well?” a tuft of autumn hair falling across his eyes. 

Gently, you detached yourself from the boy. “We’re- we’re not uh…”

Teucer’s brows furrowed, shoulders falling in disappointment. 

“You’re not? But…” He looked to his older brother.

There was something so sad in the boy's voice that you hesitated and the silence grew incriminating, thicker and thicker until his mother stepped in. 

“Teucer, sweetie-”

“We are,” you blurted, voice pitching unnaturally. “Yeah, uh. We are.”

“I knew it!”

Teucer beamed up at you and then let out a loud whoop, running away with his arms raised high.

You blinked. Oh Archons, you’d said it. You’d just said yes. You’d lied, sealed yourself off to a fate of the worst kind of humiliation at the hands of your former foe. You didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to get any hotter.

Childe regarded you from beneath his brows and you quickly looked away from his terribly unreadable expression.

He turned to his mother abruptly. “So how are the fish biting this season?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The rest of the night was a blur. You didn’t address Childe and he disappeared anyway, making himself busy putting the kids to bed as you helped clean up and chatted with his mother, who blessedly didn’t mention your gaffe.

You hardly remembered what half-baked excuse you’d murmured in order to excuse yourself. You thanked her for dinner, bundled up quietly, and headed out into the bone-chilling cold, the bitterness a balm for your frayed nerves. 

You approached the tiny guest house.

Gods, what spun out lie would you have to come up with to get out of this one? You considered slipping away into the night as you turned the key in the lock.

The room was pitch black and you fumbled for a good few seconds for the light before cursing, finally conjuring up a crackling ball of electricity in your palm.

“Hey, girlie.” You yelped and crashed back against the door right as light blossomed across the one room house. “Took you long enough.”

Childe was eyeing you lazily from his laid back position on your bed, looking wholly bored. Like you’d kept him waiting for hours. His hands were laced over his sternum, fingers tapping an unheard rhythm.

“What is wrong with you?” you hissed. “What is your insistence on always slinking about like some creepy old ghoul?”

“A ghoul?”

“You almost scared me to death!”

“Oh,” he said casually, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well it would be awfully depressing if after all this time I lost you to a bit of fright.”

You set your jaw and marched over to light the small fireplace, shrugging out of your coat, anxiety surging forth to take the place of the adrenaline ebbing out of your system, your hands shaking slightly as you stoked the fire. The image of him propped up on your bedspread was a tantalizing one. His gaze prickled at the back of your neck.

“Freezing in here,” you muttered. A chuckled response at your nervousness had you spinning around to pin him with a lethal glare, the fire behind you swelling at your call.  Your hand instinctively went to grab the hilt of your sword, only to remember it lay packed away in your bag. So your arm whipped out to point at him accusingly.

“What are you even doing in here? Get out!” 

“There she is,” Childe said, his voice almost reverent as his eyes flicked across you. “Stay right there, traveler. Perfect. You know, you’re quite the pretty picture like that.” A small thrill shuddered through you at the flicker of dark excitement in his eyes, there and then gone. His palms raised in mock surrender when your nose scrunched, fists balling angrily at your sides. “Hey, no need for theatrics. You’re my guest, after all. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t make sure you made it home safe?”

Your focus flickered briefly to the wide spread of his long legs.

“On my twenty foot journey over here?”

His head fell against his hunched shoulder with a teasing grin. “Who knows what sort of ghouls lurk around the forests of Snezhnaya?”

“I mean, I’d hope you would.”

Childe shrugged. “I do,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t let my best girl leave without so much as a goodnight.”

A shocking brightness blossomed in your chest and you set your jaw against it.

“Okay. If this is about what I said earlier… it was a slip of the tongue and I’m embarrassed enough as is so-”

“C’mere.”

“No.” 

His mouth tilted into a fond smile. “Please?” He pushed himself to sit fully upright, leaning forward, elbows coming to prop atop his knees. You squinted as if he’d grown a second head. “Come on. I have something for you.”

“Last time you said something to that effect, I was nearly crushed by a whale.”

“It’s nothing like that. Swear on it.” He placed an earnest hand over his heart. “Besides, this shack is far too small, not much merit in taking us both out, don’t you think?”

“You’ve done crazier things.” You drew on your dwindling anger. “Like calling me cute.”

“You are cute,” he said. “Especially when you get all spitty with me like this. Now come here. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides, a sudden desire thrumming a needy tune between your legs. Bracing yourself, you stiffly closed more space between the two of you, still stopping several feet away.

He hummed disapprovingly. “Closer. Come on. You scared or something?”

“I’m plenty close. And if you hand me a stupid beetle or something, I’ll kill you.”

His hand flew out to grab a fistful of your shirt and yank you forward with a squeal. “Childe!” you shouted, catching yourself against his shoulders.

“There we go,” he said softly, your faces only inches apart. “Not so bad like this, is it?” He reached behind him. You relinquished your hold on his shoulders but his knees tightened around your thighs to keep you moving away. And for the first time, your instinct was to stay. 

“Here,” he said, pleased. “Tonia told me to give this to you.” A single flower was in his hand, a beautiful coral red star with giant, shimmering petals.

You struggled to find words in the following silence. “Oh…”

“Do you like it?” The dark stem of a dendrobium spun between his agile fingers as he stared at it in thought. “I suppose you’d already know it’s a rare thing to come across one. There’s a legend in Inazuma that says dendrobiums can only grow in the wake of spilt blood. The bloodier the soil, the prettier and bigger the petals. Someone smart as you could probably puzzle out why I’m drawn to such things.” 

Your nervous swallow was excruciatingly loud. “How would Tonia have-”

“Traveler…” he scolded quietly. Your breath cut embarrassingly short when his teasing gaze rose to meet yours. “You know how it hurts my heart when you don’t listen. I never said Tonia picked it herself. Just that she advised me to give it to you. After all, it was you that came to mind when I spotted it poking out so colorfully from between the rocks. Do you mind?” 

His hand rose and he waited before taking your frozen, doe-eyed gaze as permission to sweep his fingers ghostlike up your cheek to push a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, sliding the flower into your hair.

The significance of his words hit you with the force of a raging Sumpter beast. He’d picked a flower for you. Such a simple gesture, yet your heart slammed in your chest. 

Was this all some ploy? Your throat tightened further when you found no such evidence, bottom lip warbling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said carefully.

Slowly, studying you closely for any signs you meant to pull away, Childe curled his index fingers into your belt loops. His lips quirked when you allowed him to tug you further into him, until you were nestled fully within the heated framework of his thighs. 

“What you said earlier at dinner,” he murmured. “You made me wait a long time to hear you admit that.”

“Admit what exactly?”

“That we’re something special, you and I.”

Childe latched onto your wrist, massaging gentle circles into your knuckles. When you wobbled on your feet, he twisted your palm upward to press a lingering kiss to the center of it and you shuddered, lips parting slightly. A pleased, catlike smile toyed at the corner of his mouth.

“Are we together, traveler, like you said?”

With one hand, you gripped the base of his chin between forefinger and thumb, the latter sweeping upward to explore the outline of his lips before tracing slowly up the curve of his jawline in thought. He hummed at your touch, the sound low and drawn out, sending a shock of heat between your legs. Your face burned and you opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

“I didn’t mean to say that earlier-”

In one swift movement, Childe’s grip had tightened on your wrist and he’d yanked you toward him, using the momentum to whirl you onto the middle of the bed with a cry of surprise. Intent on giving him an angry earful, you shoved yourself up, propped on your palms. But the words swelled and stuck in your throat at the roguish gleam in his eyes, the bed dipping as he crawled toward you.

Without any thought, your legs fell apart to allow him through.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you,” he said, advancing still, forcing you to retreat backward, flatten yourself until all you knew was his pretty face hovering above yours, his weight settling between your legs. “You never say things you don’t mean.”

Your heart clattered, chest rising with shallow breaths that drew his gaze downward. 

“Maybe. But sometimes I do say things before I’ve thought them all the way through.”

“Mm, you’re not so wrong about that.” He lowered onto his elbows until the tip of his nose nearly brushed yours. 

“I guess I just didn’t think before I said it,” you stammered. “Your brother seemed so confident and I didn’t…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

Your skin burned white hot at the admission. Did he know just how vulnerable you were allowing yourself to be right now? The terror that lit through your chest when you thought about him not feeling the same way?

Childe grinned. “It’s a shame you’re blind as well as loose-tongued. Well, it would be pretty awkward to take it back now, yes? So I guess you’re stuck with me in the meantime.”

You laughed, the ball of tension easing in your chest. 

“I think your family likes me alright,” you said quietly and he laughed at the change of subject.

“They do. A little too much, I’m afraid. We’ll have to make sure Teucer doesn’t smuggle himself along in your bags.”

You looked up at him, a long felt but never before addressed emotion swelling almost painfully in your chest. “You’re rare, you know,” you blurted. “I’ve never- I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Childe’s eyes softened. “I can hardly believe you’re real sometimes.”

Foregoing further words, you spread your legs all the way, inviting him to nestle more fully into the crux of your thighs. His breath stuttered across your lips at the hard press of his erection against your front. You bit your bottom lip, holding in a smirk. “I’m plenty real when I beat you in every fight–”

Matching your energy immediately, two large hands cupped your face, thumbs bracing beneath your chin to gently lever your mouth shut. “Shhh,” he murmured, slowly bending down to press a kiss to each corner of your mouth. “We can get to the bottom of that another time. But for now just… behave.”

A tiny whine from you was all it took for him to finally press his lips against yours.

The room dimmed and sharpened all at once. The muscles on his arms and back turned boneless beneath your fingers as he sighed into your mouth, as if your lips working back against his were a long-awaited antidote. It was slow, sweet. His thumbs traced gentle half moons under your eyes and his tongue dipped in tentatively before he grew bolder, gaining ground when you parted your lips in response to a well-timed drag of his hips.

A hand smoothed down your hair, coming to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in like he could inhale you completely, until it was bruising and raw and exhilarating; a different kind of battle entirely.

Your fingers worked clumsily at the buttons of his shirt from the top down, ghosting over the raised skin of old scars as you went. His breath hitched beneath your touch, the skin of his abdomen tightening and jumping as you teased beneath the hem of his pants before working unsuccessfully at his belt buckle.

“Stupid Sneznhayan bullshit…” you hissed against his mouth.

The hand in your hair tightened and you let out a humiliating noise, abandoning his belt and finding purchase in his shirt, using it to lever your hips up into his. Grinding to relieve some of the ache pulsing between your thighs. An amused laugh puffed against your cheek at your frustration and his head dropped to murmur against your ear.

“I do love your determination. It’s one of my favorite things about you. But it would be a shame to rush through this first part, don’t you think?”

His hand cupped the opposite side of your face so he could plant a firm, lingering kiss to your temple while the other now ran up and down your side.

“Be patient with me?”

“Sure thing,” you said hoarsely right before his thumb found and circled the pert bud of your nipple through your shirt. You shuddered violently against him, legs wrapping his hips mindlessly, yanking him in. “Actually no. No, no, no.”

Childe laughed but the noise was tattered around the edges.

“Always figured you’d be greedy in bed.”

“Archons, y-you’re so annoying sometimes.”

He nipped your bottom lip, sharp and punishing, drawing back to look at your disoriented expression. 

“I want you to do something for me,” he said, raising his shoulder further so he could wedge the wandering hand in between you. 

“Wha-?” you squeaked, hips dipping into the bed to assist. 

“Will you tell me about the day we met?” 

The request was unexpected. Kind of wholesome if it weren’t paired with the slide of his palm between your thighs, cupping gently along the curve of your pussy through the fabric of your pants. Oh gods. You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. It felt so deliriously good, just being held by him like this. With the heat of his palm unmoving and his bare skin just two layers away from yours.

“You don’t remember?” you croaked. He drew just his middle finger firmly up the seam and back down, catching your clit, your spine arching upward like you’d been hit by an electro burst. 

“Of course I remember,” he said, brows furrowing at you as if the question was offensive. “But we’ve all got our versions to tell. Let me hear yours.”

“I was–” 

You paused nervously as Childe’s lazy grin turned almost smug. He worked with only one hand at your belt, his eyes attentively on yours as he showed you up, unclasping and tugging until the two ends separated. He undid the button beneath with a deft thumb and forefinger. Without being asked, your hips raised, wriggling as he sat back on his heels to slowly tug your pants and underwear off.

You thanked your past self for lighting the fireplace as the open air hit the glistening wetness of your spread cunt. Childe’s gaze roved unabashedly, his fingers at his own waist now, undoing the clasp of his belt but going no further. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a devout intensity before he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Go on, traveler. You were saying?” 

Emboldened by the bulge pressing hard and insistent at the front of his pants, you pushed yourself up to your knees, scooching forward until your thighs bracketed his own, gifting him with the sight of the spread of you. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he glanced down. No longer in a rush, you trailed your hands across his chest. Explored the soft planes of his abdomen, running along curves of smooth, defined muscle. Rising to thumb over his nipples, testing him, studying his reactions. Seeing what he liked. 

“I uh–” you cleared your throat “-was running from the Millelith.”

“Interesting but I already know that. Tell me what you were feeling,” he said, tossing your shirt carelessly over the side of the bed, moving on to your bra. “Hmm, better yet, tell me how relieved you were to see me.”

“Ah ok. So you need your ego stroked.”

“For starters.” His lips curled suggestively. Previously dragging light patterns across his skin, your nails clawed in hard and you were rewarded with the slight drop of his jaw and the low rumble of an appreciative groan.

Being completely exposed before Childe was nothing like you’d imagined. There was no self-consciousness, no reservations at all as his hands explored and cupped. Because you already knew each other, you realized, had already done this intimate dance; each dip, each curve memorized and stored from all those battles at the Golden House. The only thing left was to see. 

“I think I was too full of adrenaline to be nervous,” you began. “But I guess I was backed into a bit of a corner when you found me.” You leaned forward with a small smile, palm cupping between his legs in the same tormenting fashion his had, sliding along the outline of his cock. Childe’s hips jerked. A soft moan tickled the hairs at the crown of your head, his chin coming to rest briefly atop as if looking at the motion of your fingers would be far too much. 

“I was relieved to see you, sure,” you continued, thumb teasing at the ridge. “Could’ve handled it on my own, though.”

You felt his throat rumble out a warm laugh as you worked his pants open. “You could have, I’m sure.”

“I think I liked you right away,” you continued. “Before anything I admired your prowess. But I suppose I found you… cute,” you said, recycling the same word he’d used to describe you. You pulled him out before he could say anything cheeky in response. Wrapped him with your warm palm and gave an experimental stroke, grinning when he went completely stiff, a hushed curse following.

“Did you ever think about me like this?” The words spilled from Childe’s lips and he pulled back to look down at you, breathless, jaw working as he relished your slow strokes for a moment. “Back before you knew who I really was?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. You waited for the pang of resentment that used to come at the thought of his previous betrayal. But there was nothing, the idea so far removed from who the both of you were now that there was no harm in expounding. “Even after I knew, too. I… touched myself a lot. The thoughts were just angrier.”

“Yeah. Yeah I bet.”

Some strangled noise that seemed like it had been stuck at the back of his throat was released when your thumb swiped over his leaking tip. Cupping your face with a sudden urgency, he yanked you into a fierce kiss. But he pulled back as soon as it started, smile lazy and pleased at your dazed expression.

“My turn, yeah?” Childe’s head cocked. “I saw you first at the gates of Liyue when you arrived. I had to see the golden hero of Mondstadt with my own eyes, after all. And what a sight you were,” he purred. The fast, downward trajectory of his hand had you pulling in a breath and holding it in anticipation. “So pretty in that little dress. I thought about taking you for all you were worth right then and there. I think you would’ve come around to it. Am I right, traveler? If I’d have approached you then, would you have let me do this to you?”

You expected him to tease, hold out on you, so when his middle finger slid directly through your folds to dip lightly into the mess of your center, you nearly combusted, letting out a hoarse cry. Tried to pull away but his other hand curved the back of your neck, tugging you into his shoulder.

Childe turned to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek, fluttering his finger at your entrance just lightly enough to make a vulgar, wet noise. 

“Well? Would you have?” 

You shuddered. Nodded mindlessly and he purred in satisfaction at the easy give of two fingers, sliding into your cunt to the knuckle, hooking and hitting a spot inside you that had starlight bursting behind your eyelids. But still you fought through, pumping him, the movements jerky and pathetic now.

“But it was the day we really met, traveler. That day at the Golden House when I saw you for what you really were. That wild look in your eyes when you wanted to kill me so badly. I’ll never forget it. That’s when I knew for certain that no matter the outcome, I had to have you.”

“Childe–” you whined, hardly remembering to stroke him still.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “just hold onto me.”

And so you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pump his fingers into you, slow and torturous until you burned white hot and senseless. Hardly aware even of your back delicately pressing into the mattress again, the new position allowing him more depth, each curl accompanied by a tiny whimper. You felt the quiet flutter of climax already brushing like a flurry of feathers across your skin. It was like nothing you’d experienced, being tucked into Childe’s neck like this, one of his hands still caressing your hair so sweetly while the other stretched you open.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” his faraway voice murmured, coaxing you to relax beneath him but you couldn’t while his lips brushed your cheek. While his fingers pumped, while the smell of him filled your senses.

You loved him. You loved him.

Everything swelled at once; emotion and that twisting pleasure in your belly rising sharply until your body went rigid, nails digging helplessly into his shoulders as you grasped for a tether to reality. A torn keen loosened from the depths of your chest as he worked you through with murmured, rhythmic praises. You spasmed against him, clinging like the illusion of him could disappear at any moment, leaving you nothing but a shuddering mess. You fell back onto the bed panting.

A press against the corner of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. The sensitive slide of his fingers out of your pussy had your lips parting just enough that he could slide his tongue softly through. You lay there motionless for a time, blinking the pleasure from your eyes, Childe just massaging his tongue against yours, eyes closed, dipping in and out of you slowly.

His cock laid heavy and hot on your hip, leaking hot precum across your skin. Groaning, you finally reciprocated his kiss, your fervor met with a long purr of contentment from above. Your nails dug grooves into his bare hips, dragging him against you, imploring him without words.

Childe inhaled a sharp breath and pulled back to look at your face, eyes glazed slightly.

“You alright?” was all he said, voice in such shreds it had you laughing, cupping his face in your hands.

“Yeah, you idiot.”

The side of his nose brushed yours, a wry grin curling his lips. “Kind of impolite for a girl who was just cumming all over my fingers.” He pressed a single, firm kiss against your mouth before reaching between you to position his cock, wetting it with a drag through your slit before pressing in just slightly.

Childe’s blue eyes flickered between yours.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

Your eyes widened but any further reaction on your part was taken up by the delicious, burning stretch as he slowly pushed into you with a drawn out groan, not stopping until he’d bottomed out inside you, the only sound punctuating the room for several seconds the sound of steadying breaths.

You could already feel yourself making room for him, fitting yourself around him. 

“Keep moving or I’ll die.”

His laugh was strained and he seemed oddly hesitant still, like he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you. You smiled softly and he let out a content sigh, his head falling to your shoulder. His cock inched out of you, pushing back in at the same dragging pace. And he began to fuck you deep, rocking into you slow.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured into your ear.

He loved you. Childe loved you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. The way he sucked gentle bruises into your skin. The way his hips rolled so steadily and how he was ruining you slow, hitting all the right spots inside you that had you gasping for breath, softly whimpering with each thrust. 

You were warriors, yes. It was your baser instincts. But the pace that he set made clear that the quick step, fierce clashing of swords was momentarily being tossed aside in favor of slow hands. You panted as you took him again and again, your sweat mixing, brushing that damp lock of ginger hair to the side so you could fall into the blue of his eyes.

“I have another confession,” Childe murmured against your neck. “And I feel terrible about this one. So don’t bark at me.”

“Is now really the time for confession?”

Childe turned you over, his hands falling immediately to steady your hips, guide them into the same rolling tempo on top of him.

“Good as any, I think.”

He pinched the skin of your thigh when you didn’t respond, too blissed out and focused on the second rising tide swirling low in your belly.

“F-fine.”

“I told them myself that we were dating.”

“Wh-hat?” you choked out as his thumb found your clit, rolling in tight circles. He groaned at your hard clench around him. Archons, you were right on the precipice.

“I told my family in my letters,” he panted. “Told everyone I could that we were together a long time ago, traveler. That I’d found myself a pretty little adventurer in Liyue that I intended to make mine. Don’t you think that was presumptuous of me?”

“Ch-Childe–”

You didn’t know how to process the information, let alone respond. Your head spun, everything tightening inside, but terribly slow. With a plea on your lips, your hands flew up to play with your nipples, desperate for something to send you over that edge. You heard Childe curse under his breath quietly, hands digging into the flesh of your hip bones as he seemed to steady himself.

“Childe.”

“So really, I knew before you did,” he said, sounding like a fraying rope. “The whole world knew you were mine before you did. But I knew you’d come around. Knew it as surely as I know the Sneznhayan sky. Knew it as surely as I know you.”

Childe drew one arm around your back, the other up your spine until his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his mouth to yours before his lips slid forward and found your ear.

“And I do know you.” 

Suddenly, you were locked against him, his hips snapping into yours with a fervor. You gasped because there it was, that pounding friction that had you nearly sobbing into his neck, clawing at the bed as you were sped toward that edge and soared right over it.

The arms holding you so tightly left no space to roll and flex your body naturally through your release. It was a debilitating ecstasy, destructive and wet, all centered at one nexus point between your legs, so powerful it had you drenching his cock as he stuffed you again and again. Before you’d even remembered to breathe, Childe was swallowing your anguished whine, shifting your body upward so he could chase his own release.

“Say it again,” he gasped against your lips. “Please.”

Somehow, you knew. “Love you,” you breathed, completely dazed.

“Again, again, again.” He pounded into you desperately and you felt the telltale tightening of his abdomen, the beginning stutter of his hips.

You grabbed his face and poured every ounce of yourself into it. “I love you, Childe.”

A choked laugh turned into a groan as he slammed himself deep, emptying inside your still convulsing cunt, showering you with so many breathless praises that they all slur together like a desperate prayer. His face tipped back so beautifully, twisting in ecstasy before he went boneless, the only sound in the room your labored breathing.

You waited until your heartbeat slowed to shift atop him, rolling until you were tucked into his side instead. Your eyelids felt like a weighted blanket but you were too lost in thought to drift off now, fingers tracing lazy patterns into his skin.

Minutes and minutes passed. You fiddled with the flower in your hair.

“So everyone knew we were together except me?” you asked, more sheepish than intended, cheek moving against the hard planes of his bare abdomen so you could peer up at him. Childe burst into laughter and you found yourself pressing closer to absorb the sound.

“You really are blind. Every opportunity I had to show you my true feelings, I took. Even that floating bag of flour had her suspicions.” You smacked his chest hard but he continued with a chuckle. “Always looking over your shoulder like she could kill me on the spot. If she could see us now.”

With practiced quickness, you straddled his hips, palms propping on either side of his head. “That’s enough.”

Naturally, his fingers found your sides, dragging up and down, eyes full of a shining devotion. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to get your cock touched again.”

Childe smiled dangerously. “Dirty words from such a pretty mouth. Careful, or we’ll end up making a battlefield of Sneznhaya yet.”

You grinned down at him for a long, giddy moment. “I could be tempted.”

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