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martyfive · 2 months

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i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

#martyfive text #text post #text #diary

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visualbutterflysworld · 3 months

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Forgive me? | Vhackerr

When reader and Vinnie get into a bad argument things seem to take a turn for the worse when vinnie says something he shouldn’t. Could this be the end or could this just become the beginning of a true relationship?

I low key had a dream about this type of scenario like years ago and randomly thought of it so :P also probably sloppy writing

“That’s so fucking stupid!” Vinnie screams at me. Vinnie and I had been dating for about 5 months now. We usually don’t fight. I mean not like this. We were fighting about us and what we were. If I said me and him were just friends he’d flip but if I’d ask to post about us he’d deflect.

“It’s not! You should understand about how I feel! I just want the world to know about us! That’s it!” I scream. “Yeah, because you want your fifteen minutes of fame! Such a fucking leach like everyone else!” Vinnie yelled back. I stand there with disbelief. He for real just said that.

Vinnie huffs before he realizes what he has said. “Y/n-” “No, fuck you, Vincent! You think I’m with you because you’re some fucking celebrity?! I’m with you because I love you! Because I love you more than I love myself! More than life itself! I was willing to wait till you were ready but I’m sick of waiting! I’m sick of feeling like I’m some fucking monster that you have to keep hidden from the world but, you know what, since you think that poorly on my character then we shouldn’t let the world know! We shouldn’t let the world know that we had any sorta of connection because we’re fucking done!” I scream at him. I quickly grab the rest of my stuff before heading towards the door.

“I’ll have somebody come get the rest of my shit. Please fuck off you entitled dick!” Is the last thing I shout before slamming the door. The rest is a blur. One minute I’m in the hallway of his building and next I’m sitting on my bathroom floor crying my heart out to my mom.

“Honey, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m sure right then and there he would’ve said I love you too.” My mother says as I sob quietly. I told that asshole I loved him. Can you believe that? I’m not sure I meant it but my heart is telling me I did. I told him we were over but, I don’t want it to be over. I get a notification from my phone.

Instagram

Vinnie Hacker has posted on their story

“Yeah, I got to go mom. I’ll talk to you later.” I said and quickly hang up. It takes all my will power not to click on it immediately but my hands seem to have a mind of its own. I click on his story.

My hand instantly goes to my mouth. He posted me. He called me his girl. That asshole. I hear my doorbell ring and I know who it is. I quickly get onto my feet and go to my door. I open it and there he is. My favorite flowers and food in hand. I look up at him and he seems like he can’t maintain eye contact but he does anyways.

“I’m so so so sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I called you that. That was wrong. Very wrong of me. I don’t assume that you’re with me because I’m well me. I know that. I’ve been known that..just I fucked up because that’s what I do. I fuck up anything good in my life because I’m afraid of being hurt. You’re too good for me and I honestly don’t deserve you but, I posted you on my story so now you’re like kinda force to be with me anyways. I mean I’ll grovel if you want but, fuck I can’t let you go! I’m sorry and I love you! I mean…I think I love you more than you love me but-”

“Vincent!”

He blinks for the first time in 3 minutes. “Yeah?” “You should probably come inside before my food gets cold.” I smile softly at him. He lights up instantly and quickly makes his way inside. He sets the flowers and food down before turning to me. “I’m really sorry! We can go slow! We can start over and pretend this fight never happened like now we’re officially dating or something!” I run up and hug him. “Vinnie, we’re okay.” I kiss him quickly and his face follows mine as I lean away. “I mean…you’re gonna have to do some major groveling if you want to be my boyfriend again but I think we’re still dating.”

He smirks, “that’s fine by me.”

This was so trash but I’m sick and wanted to post something so :P

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #bwwm couples #bwwmromance #oneshot #love #lovers #vinnie hacker x reader

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vladajwrites · 1 year

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Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5851

Notes; thank you to everyone who has shown their support so far and taken the time to read my work, you are the ones who truly keep me motivated to write. much much love <33

(Not Beta Read)

You woke the next morning in the same t-shirt you had worn the day before, clinging to your skin from cold sweat. Your pants had been kicked off at some unknown point during the restless night of sleep you had. It was hard to recall the exact time you had eventually passed out on top of your bed.

Your phone was ringing somewhere underneath your pillow, causing your entire head to buzz. You groaned, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Irina’s name flashed on the screen as the caller on the other line. You answered the call, pressing the speaker button before dropping your phone on your chest.

“Hi honey, just wanted to let you know my flight made it into Sacramento.” Irina spoke. The passersby’s in the busy airport nearly muffled her voice.

You picked up your phone again, looking at the time. How late had you slept in? The digital clock read 11:03 am.

“Okay, I’m glad you made it safely.” You were certain your aunt could hear the rasp of your morning voice.

Irina hummed on the other line. “Just give me a call if you need anything while I’m away.”

“Will do, love you.” You replied, clearing your throat before responding.

“I love you too.” Irina replied before ending the call.

You stared up at your ceiling for a moment, thinking over the events of last night.

You couldn’t help but feel horrible for Charlie. Were he and his father close? Was his mother around? Did he have any siblings, relatives he was close with? So many questions seemed to fill your thoughts. Though, you knew they were questions that would more than likely go unanswered. It would be an awful choice, you decided, to bring up this suspected trauma unprompted.

Maybe you could try to divulge more information from your aunt. Based upon her reaction, she must have been relatively close to his father at some point in time. Remembering back to the somber expression your aunt wore last night, you decided against that idea as well.

You thought back on the relationship you had with your own father. He was an objectively miserable man. How would you have reacted, though, if you had lost him under the same circumstances? It would have surely still been devastating to some degree.

You’d keep your newfound information to yourself for the time being. It was the only reasonable option you could think of. You were certain Charlie wouldn’t want you to treat him any differently after finding out about what had happened.

The familiar buzz of your phone’s ringer pulled you momentarily from your running thoughts. You grabbed your phone, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your bed, your legs crossed closely in front of you.

A message from an unsaved number appeared on the screen. You recognized it almost immediately as being Charlie’s from the group chat the night before. Only he hadn’t messaged both you and Robbie. It was only sent to you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you unlocked your phone. The message read, “Hey, Robbie wanted me to let you know he woke up feeling sick and won’t be able to make it tonight.”

Your face fell into a frown as you read over the message again, your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought up a response.

Another message from Charlie arrived moments later. “He said he’d take over any revisions if you and I would still be willing to finish the presentation tonight.”

The corner of your lips twitched up into a half smile. Now that you and Charlie were on seemingly good terms again, there shouldn’t be any issue with just the two of you working on this together.

Your fingers unknowingly found themselves twisted through your hair as you typed your response. “Works for me. Same time and place?”

Charlie sent his response almost instantly. “Yeah, sounds good.”

You had quite a bit of time to spare until 7pm rolled around. You went through your weekend routine as usual, cleaning up as you went throughout the home. By 6pm you had showered and pulled yourself mostly together. As you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, running your fingers through your drying hair, a new thought crept into your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through Charlie’s mess of hair.

Your skin burned hot as you dropped your hands at your sides. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back up at your own reflection.

You couldn’t shake the thought as you made your way into the kitchen downstairs. You stared blankly into the pantry, your thoughts elsewhere.

Of course, you had always believed there was something charming about Charlie’s character. He was objectively good looking, at least you had thought so. But, thinking back on those few moments you shared alone with him on the porch the night before, there was just something- something about him was strikingly beautiful.

You bit at your lip, squinting your eyes as you pulled your thoughts together. You reminded yourself that the last thing you wanted to do at the moment was become wrapped up in unrequited crushes and feelings similar to the sort. It was just easier on your own. You had come to this conclusion years ago. It was understandably difficult to trust others, impossible to let anybody in.

Just as you were about to shut the pantry door, your eyes caught a glint in the back of the pantry, just behind a bag of sugar. You reached forward, grabbing the bottle in your hands.

You turned over a bottle of red wine, scanning the label quickly.

You hummed to yourself, setting the bottle on the kitchen counter. You stared it down for a moment, tapping your foot against the hardwood flooring.

You had no clue how long it had been stuffed away back there. Surely your aunt wouldn’t miss it too terribly. You glanced up at the clock above the stove which read 6:44pm. A small glass wouldn’t hurt anything, just something to dispel your faltering nerve.

You dug through the kitchen drawers, searching for a bottle opener. Just as you popped the cork, a knock at the front door rang through the home. ‘Shit.’ You steadied yourself, nearly knocking the bottle off the counter.

You thought you would have had at least a few more minutes to yourself. You quickly made your way to the front door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle.

Charlie stood in front of you. One hand buried in his front pocket, the other holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. You held the frame of the door, following his line of sight to your bare legs. You felt your face grow hot. You hadn’t realized just how much of your oversized t-shirt covered the small shorts you wore underneath.

You quickly pulled your t-shirt up, holding it against your stomach. “Shorts, promise.” God, why were you acting like this?

Charlie swallowed, looking up to meet your eyes. “Yeah, right.” There was a moment of quiet passed between the two of you. Charlie’s eyes drifted just past you into the entryway.

“Oh, right. Come in.” You pushed the door open further for him. He followed you inside, stepping beside you as you locked the door behind him.

He turned to head towards the living room. Without giving it much thought, you interjected. “We can go up to my room.” You motioned up the stairs, watching as Charlie stopped in his tracks.

“Your room? Your aunt won’t mind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he kicked his shoes off.

“Oh no, she wouldn’t mind. She’s out of town this weekend, anyway.” You replied.

Charlie froze for a moment, looking up the stairs past you. He met your eyes again before responding. “Cool, yeah. Your room sounds great.”

You smile down at him, leading him up the staircase.

“Well, this is it,” you shrugged. “Just put your stuff anywhere you’d like.” You finished, motioning around the room.

You picked your bag off the ground and climbed into your bed, moving close to the wall. Charlie placed his stuff on the desk beside your bed before dropping himself into the adjoining chair. You began pulling out your things, watching as he intently did the same. He seemed so incredibly focused on the things in front of him. Neither of you spoke.

As you opened your laptop to access the shared group presentation, Charlie spoke up.

“Okay, I actually went ahead and got everything finished up earlier today.” Your breath got stuck in your chest as you met his eyes. “I figured we could just work on any revisions together.” You could tell from just below your line of sight that he was nervously messing with the corner of a piece of his notebook paper.

“Oh,” you weren’t sure what to say. “Well, thank you. You totally didn’t have to-”

“No, I know. I wanted to.” Charlie interrupted.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip. You scanned through the presentation. It really had been finished. It must have taken him hours.

There was an uncomfortable silence, making the air thick and heavy around you. You wished you could think of something else to say. An image of the opened bottle of red wine in the kitchen flashed in your mind.

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked so softly, you couldn’t have been certain you had actually asked it aloud.

Charlie’s eyes snapped up to meet you. Relief almost played itself across his expression. “Yes, please. If it’s not any trouble.” He rubbed his palms flat against the denim against his thighs.

You shot up, crawling out of bed. “Not at all.” You gave him your most reassuring smile.

You rushed downstairs, throwing open the cabinet where you knew Irina kept her best glasses. You grabbed two by the stem and held the bottle in the other hand.

You made your way carefully up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom.

Charlie peered behind himself, eyes falling to the bottle in your hand.

“Oh,” he began, “I didn’t realize…”

You suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Did he even drink?

“I’m sorry, I should’ve clarified. I can go and grab some water or something-” You began turning on your heel.

Charlie was quick to rise to his feet. “No, no, this is great.” He carefully took the glasses and bottle from your hands. You inhaled sharply and nodded as his fingers brushed against your own.

You climbed back into bed, watching him fill each glass, respectively. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hand slightly shook as he passed you your glass.

You took a long drink, watching him do the same. It felt so warm in your throat. You sighed, sinking further into the bed. Charlie seemed to relax a bit in his spot as well.

A few minutes passed by in a much more comfortable quietness.

You couldn’t help but become distracted by the man sitting beside you. He just felt so far away. You wished he’d have sat on the bed next to you instead. Every once in a while, you’d feel him glance over at you as you reread the same passage over and over again, still for some reason, unable to comprehend what it said.

You peered up from your notes, watching Charlie slide a scribbled over sticky note that sat stuck to the base of your lamp.

You recognized it immediately, feeling yourself shift awkwardly. It was one of the lists you kept from film club, filled almost entirely with movies that Charlie had mentioned in passing.

“Are these…?” Charlie asked, eyes widening as he made his way down the list.

You rolled over onto your stomach, reaching over to pull the list from Charlie’s hands.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I’ve almost gotten myself caught up.” You tried your best to conceal the shyness you felt at being found out.

Your heart picked up quickly as he looked you over. There was something about his expression that felt so heavy, it was an unfamiliar sight.

“What’s next on your list?” He asked, picking up the glass you had set down and refilling it alongside his own.

You read over the scratched out mess of your handwriting. “Dawn of the Dead, but the 1978 version. Not the remake, of course.”

A smirk spread across Charlie’s lip, as if he’d taught you well. He held up your glass to take from him. You took it from him slowly, feigning to be worried about spilling a single drop. By this point, your head was already beginning to feel fuzzy. It was a comfortable warmth.

You slipped the note into your backpack, trying to focus once again on the presentation in front of you. It was useless.

Before giving it much thought, you spoke up, “You know, I’ve already rented it.”

Robbie could manage the revisions on his own, right?

“Oh yeah?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to face you.

“Yeah,” you began, trying to convince yourself that this next question would actually be a good idea. “Would you want to watch it with me?”

“Tonight?” Charlie’s hands were back against the top of his thighs. His eyes flashed between you and the T.V. that was mounted above your dresser on the opposite side of your bedroom.

“If that would be okay with you, I’m honestly not getting much work done over here.” You replied, getting up from the bed.

Charlie cleared his throat before answering. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds cool.”

You smiled over your shoulder at him as you made your way over the DVD player that sat on top of your dresser.

You messed with the CD case, popping it open and inserting the disk. You picked up the remote, waiting until the title screen flashed on the T.V. above you. You noticed the top drawer of the dresser was pulled halfway open; you slid it closed, scolding yourself. It contained the clothing you’d dread any guest seeing. You swore you were always so careful about keeping these things in order.

You flipped your bedroom lights off, dimming the lamp that sat on the desk beside Charlie before finding your place back in bed.

You pressed play, finishing the last of the wine in your glass, before setting the remote and glass on the desk beside you.

A few moments passed by uninterrupted. You looked over at Charlie. He was sitting so unbelievably stiff in the chair, it just seemed so uncomfortable.

“Charlie,” you called out to him. He snapped his eyes to meet your own. “You don’t have to watch the entire movie from my desk.” You half laughed.

He stood quickly, nearly knocking things about your desk. You tried your best to hide your smile as he laid down on top of the mattress; the bed dipped under his weight.

You both kept a fair amount of distance between each other. The movie was well underway. However, you found yourself becoming increasingly more interested in the uneven way Charlie’s chest rose and fell with each breath than what was happening on the screen.

You wished you could just reach over and touch him, move the hair out of his eyes, trace your finger over the arch of his nose.

You could barely take notice of the way your vision had fixated on him as your head grew blurred and warm.

You wished he’d turn and face you, say something. He seemed to be frozen in place, legs and arms held in a way that’d rival a statue. His face was fixated on the T.V., as if he were too nervous to move even an inch. It was so warm. The room felt so warm.

You could barely catch the small glimpses he’d spare towards you from his peripherals. You wish he’d just reach over- your eyes trailed down to his hands resting on his stomach, watching the veins in them roll as his finger flexed and twitched.

You reached up, placing a hand against your face. Your skin was cold to the touch. Why did everything feel so warm?

Your clothing suddenly felt increasingly more suffocating. You were growing desperate for some form of relief. You pulled at the collar of your shirt. Your shorts felt so tight, nearly restricting. You couldn’t explain why you felt so hot. The t-shirt you had on could almost be a dress, anyway, right?

You climbed over Charlie, one hand on either side of his chest. You steadied yourself on the ground, your head thoroughly swimming. You tried your very best to focus forward on the movie. You unbuttoned the waist of your shorts, carefully stepping out of them.

You heard a heavy sigh from behind you; the sound made the hair on your skin raise.

“I’m sorry, moving out of the way. Promise.” You laughed, turning back to face Charlie.

You slid into the bed, finding your spot in the small space between Charlie and the edge of the mattress. Opting not to try to climb over him again in your current state.

Charlie froze in place beside you as you shifted on to your side, trying to find the most comfortable spot between him and the screen. He was warm, so warm. You had just felt as though you were burning up moments ago, but the thought of him moving any further away made your body ache. His warmth was soothing.

You could feel Charlie’s uncertainty as he began to shift away from you in the bed, providing you with more space presumably.

You couldn’t explain why you did what you did next. You reacted without giving it much thought at all. You reached behind you, pulling Charlie’s furthest hand towards you until it rested on top of your hair.

The new position forced him to shift in bed beside you until he was lying on his side as well. His hand flexed under your touch. You wished you could pull him closer.

His fingers stretched throughout your hair and you sighed, feeling your back sink closer to his chest. You could nearly feel his heart pounding against you. Your hand fell to rest on your side.

His other hand shifted, moving into a more comfortable position below your neck. “Is this okay?” He whispered right behind your ear. The feeling of his cool breath sent chills up your spine. You nodded, the words lost from you.

You reached up, tracing the veins wove through his forearm. His fist closed and flexed at your touch. The film, just as the presentation, was now lost on you.

It was just him beside you. The way he smelt, his fingers carefully sliding through your hair and across your cheek, the unsteady beat of his heart against your back. You found yourself sinking further and further into his arms. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as he pulled through the mess of your hair.

At the sound of your voice, Charlie shifted his weight, wrapping his arm under your neck further to pull you around to face him.

You both seemed surprised at his sudden movement. You were now face to face, just inches apart. The movie murmured faintly off somewhere in the distance.

Even in the dark, his blue eyes were so incredibly clear. You reached up, brushing the hair that had fallen in front of his face away. His eyes flitted between your own eyes and lips. You had never noticed before just how full his own lips were. His lips were tinted a deep red from the cherry wine you had shared. You couldn’t help but imagine how sweet he’d taste.

If you’d just move a bit closer-

Both of his large hands wrapped throughout your hair again in near desperation.

You returned the gesture, pushing your thigh through the middle of his own. Lips crashed against one another.

It was unlike anything you had experienced before. This brash kiss fell into a soft rhythm, gentle exploration as you rocked into one another.

It didn’t take long until the slow movements devolved into a harsh quick pace as you both grew more comfortable in each other’s arms. There was an air of near violence as your tongues wrapped around each other.

You needed more of him, needed to be impossibly closer in any way you could. Sensing this, Charlie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top to straddle his waist.

You sat back, smiling down at him as he unintentionally bucked his hips up closer to you. It was wonderful seeing the state he was in. You knew you were in just about the same shape.

You were quick to meet his lips again. He held you steadily against himself, continuing to rock himself against you.

Your hands hazily fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. You needed to feel more of his skin against you. The barrier of clothing that separated you from him made you miserable.

Once the last button was popped, he sat up in bed. Pulling you up with him, his arm clung around your waist. He shrugged the shirt off of himself, throwing it on the ground. You were quick to bring your lips to his again, running your hands up his now bare stomach. He was impossibly toned, felt hard to the touch.

“Fuck.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled against him. You could feel him getting hard below you. A blush crept up your skin. The sound of his voice like this built up an indiscernible feeling inside of you. You wanted to hear him make that sound again.

His hands were quick to find themselves under your t-shirt, his thumb brushed against the outer lace of your bra. He reached behind you, fumbling with the clasp. You leaned your head against his, smiling softly as he gazed at you in wonder.

You reached behind yourself, helping him with his work uncertain work. You slid the bra off yourself, throwing it next to Charlie’s discarded shirt. You grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it swiftly over your head.

You could hear Charlie’s breath audibly stuck in his throat as his eyes darted wildly across your body. The full weight of this situation nearly hit you at once. You brought your arms shyly across your chest. You had never been in front of a man this way.

You could barely meet his eyes. He was quick to pull you back in to kiss him. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered against you as he kissed your forehead. Your arms melted down to your side as his hands traced the curve of your waist.

You could feel his hands shake as he cupped your breasts, his fingers softly grazed against your nipples. You sighed, pulling him closer to you. That frenzied feeling returned in full force.

You needed impossibly more of him. He was quick to act, laying you back down on the bed. He hovered over you, eyes burning into your nearly naked body in front of him.

His right hand reached down, fumbling with his buckle. You watched intently as his hand slipped underneath the waistband of his boxers to adjust himself. Your eyes fluttered back as you traced your fingers mindlessly over the defined v-line that led further down his hips. He shook at your touch.

His lips found themselves trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He was so gentle with you. Painfully gentle. Your hands wove through his hair, arching up into him as his pace quickened. He slid further down the bed, wrapping his arms around both of your legs, holding them open to kiss down your thighs.

You were practically already coming undone below him. He’d come so close to the spot you wanted him to be. Every time he’d pull back away, you’d whine in frustration. He’d hum back against you in response.

You couldn’t handle the pressure building up inside you anymore. Your right hand traced slowly underneath the lace of your panties. You stopped just before slipping through your folds, looking up to meet Charlie’s eyes. His expression seemed nearly pained, completely desperate.

“I don’t know- I’ve never…” Charlie could barely get the words out from between his lips. Even in the dim lighting, you could tell he was flustered, embarrassed at his own lack of experience. It was reassuring to you though, you had practically no experience with all of this either. It was sweet, how shy he seemed at that moment.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” You gave him a reassuring smile before carefully intertwining your fingers with his own. He followed suit, hooking his free hand around your panties before sliding them off you. Your desperation for him drowned out any insecurity you could have possibly felt with him above you in that state you were in.

You brought his fingers against you, sighing into him as he carefully let you guide him in slow circles against your clit. The knot deep inside you only grew as he became increasingly comfortable. Your hands dropped to his shoulders as he became familiar with the pace and direction you wanted.

His free arm wrapped around your back, gripping your sides with bruising force as you started to writhe below him. His head dipped beside your ear, “Please, please let me taste you.” He practically begged.

You could only nod, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers moved faster, losing their rhythm.

He was quick to shift his weight as he sat up for a moment, pulling off his constricting jeans and socks, leaving him nearly entirely exposed. You groaned at the sight of him in front of you. He was so damningly beautiful. Your vision flitted down to the large impression in his boxers, your eyes widened at the size of him.

Before you could process this discovery, he was kneeling on the bed in front of you again. One arm snaked around your thigh as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch him make his way through his.

He kissed just above your clit, eyes looking up at you for approval.

“Please Charlie,” you urged him on.

His lips were against your most sensitive spot immediately. You cried out, screwing your eyes shut. Nothing had ever been so perfect as this. He kissed against you a few more times before deciding to explore you with his tongue, “Fuck, it’s so good.” He groaned against you, speaking more to himself than you.

The vibration of his deepening voice sent shockwaves throughout your body. Your eyes and legs involuntarily worked to screw shut. Charlie acted quick, pushing your thighs back apart with a painful grip. You were sure you’d have his finger prints bruised into your skin the next morning. ‘Good’ you thought to yourself.

You could tell he was trying his best to emulate the motion you had shown him with your fingers with his tongue. It was maddening, completely perfect.

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so well.” The words spilled mindlessly out of you. He groaned as you rolled your hips against him. Your eyes trailed down his chest. His right hand found its way inside his boxers. He was palming at himself as if he were in pain. You wanted to be the one to relieve him.

The sight of him pleasing himself as he worked you over was enough to nearly send you crashing blindly over the edge. You could barely get the next words out of you, “Don’t, don’t touch yourself.” You were trying to keep it all together as he whined against you, following your demands.

“Fuck Charlie, I’m going to…” you said between broken moans.

He pulled away for a moment, his entire expression darkened. It could’ve easily been terrifying in any other context, you noted to yourself. The fingers that had just been wrapped around your thigh found themselves quickly against your entrance. Your eyes widened as you connected with his gaze, realizing his intentions. You’d do anything to have him inside of you.

He kissed your lips. You sucked the taste of yourself off of him, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth. His middle and ring dove forward inside of you. His other hand came up quickly to muffle your screams.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” His chest shuddered at his own words. A tear rolled down your face as he talked you through it. “So wet for me.”

His free hand pressed down against your lower stomach. The additional pressure was the last push you needed. Your whole nervous system seemed to snap as his fingers fucked you through your high. You could barely hear his praise as your ears rang out with incredulous force. You were sobbing out his name, vision white and spotted at the blinding pleasure.

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly letting you come back to yourself for a moment before diving his tongue back against you.

You writhed up against the footboard. It was too much, too overstimulating. Your hands pulled at his hair to push him away. He grabbed both your wrists with one hand, holding you in place below him. You were babbling, stuck between ‘It’s too much’ and ‘please don’t stop.’

Within a matter of moments, you were coming undone again against his face. Your mind was shattered, your body a wreck under his touch.

He fell back against the headboard, catching his breath as he watched you ride out your high.

As soon as you could partially catch your breath again, you sat up, watching him shift uncomfortably from his pressing erection.

It was his turn to be taken care of. You crawled your way up to rest between his thighs. His eyes darted across your face, as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you leaned into him. You kissed him slowly, licking across his lips. Your lips slowly made their way down his chest as your fingers grazed across the fabric against his cock. He whimpered above you at the pressure. The sound made your stomach clench. You’d give anything to hear it again.

He slid further down the bed as your lips trailed kisses and shallow bites marks further down his stomach.

Once you could tell he was in a more comfortable position, you hooked your fingers into the waistline of boxers. He lifted his hips, helping you pull them down his thighs before discarding them on the ground below.

You sat back on your heels, mouth agape at the sight in front of you. You could do little to hide your shock at the uncovered size of him.

You glanced up at him, willing yourself to put on a face that feigned at least a hint of experience. He smirked down at you, as if he could tell exactly what thoughts were passing through your mind.

“You don’t have to…” he muttered, eyes still full of adoration for you.

Before giving him the opportunity to finish his sentence, you wrapped your fingers against the base of his cock. You could feel him pulse under your touch. His next words were stuck and gone in his chest.

You held his gaze as your hand carefully twisted its way up to the tip of his cock. You gathered his precum on your fingers and circled it around the length of him. His mouth fell open as his stomach flexed under you.

“Does that feel good?” You asked softly.

He bit his lip, nodding his head yes. You were quick to pick up your pace at his approval.

His hands were desperate, switching between grabbing at the bedsheets and headboard and any of your skin he could get ahold of. Stunning whimpers and pleas spilled out of him as you found the motion and speed he needed.

You pulled away for a moment, moving yourself further down the bed. You held him still in one hand again as you kissed a trail down from his navel. Your eyes met with his as your lips hovered above the tip of his cock. You gathered spit on the tip of your tongue and let it fall slowly onto him. He cursed a string of expletives, his eyes rolling back into his head as you took him into your mouth.

You thought carefully over each motion, keeping your teeth back, hollowing out your cheeks. The sensation was entirely new, but the way he began to convulse below you let you know you were doing something right. You wanted nothing more than to make him feel the same way he had made you.

His hands wrapped almost painfully through your hair as he bucked further and further down your throat. You tried your best to relax, allowing him to take the space he wanted.

Your throat burned, tears and spit covered your face and chest. You wouldn’t have possibly wanted it any other way.

You were both becoming increasingly sloppy and starved in your movements. His right hand grabbed at your throat, pulling your face up to meet his eyes. You stilled, letting him fuck your throat as he pleased. It didn’t take long before his movements stilled and stuttered.

You felt him pulse in your mouth; you were flooded with his release, warmth coated your throat and tongue. The taste and sight above you made your entire body shudder. It was heavenly. You felt truly blessed to be the cause of it all. You could vaguely make out your name being spilled from between his lips.

His chest heaved as you carefully pulled away from him, his cock falling against his stomach.

You caught his eyes again, making a show to swallow what he had given to you. He pulled you into himself, kissing all over your face until you were laughing in his arms.

You dropped into the bed beside him, watching him shift his weight and stand. He scanned the room before spotting the bath towel that hung beside your bedroom door. He made quick work of cleaning the two of you up, tracing kisses across you as he did so.

Your nerves were all shot. Your entire being was exhausted and heavy.

He dropped the towel next to the discarded pile of clothing that had accumulated on your bedroom floor. Charlie slid back in bed beside you, lifting the disheveled duvet over you both. He pulled you up onto his chest. You sighed as he swept the hair out of your face.

You were in a complete haze, halfway into a deep sleep.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered above you.

You hummed, reaching up to kiss under his jaw. “Thank you.” You replied, pulling a sore a leg over his thighs, resting your head back down against him.

The movie’s title screen music played on repeat in the background; you couldn’t be the least bit bothered to turn it off.

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abibliophobiaa · 11 months

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

“You sent too much money.”

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting.

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip.

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer.

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…”

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering.

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends.

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company.

Progress.

You’re making progress.

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter.

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity.

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back.

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life.

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back.

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own.

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same.

Just as it does every time.

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them.

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years.

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already.

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter.

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way.

A battle of wills then, you think.

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak.

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him.

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip.

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back.

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat.

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself.

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet.

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it.

You were not.

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t.

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same.

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington.

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight.

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self.

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form.

“Steve is…”

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind.

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close.

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen.

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?”

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office.

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash.

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality.

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening.

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve.

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up.

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?”

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum.

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice.

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point.

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back.

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you.

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear.

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one.

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly.

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows.

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room.

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?”

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen.

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?”

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him.

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction.

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?”

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?”

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm.

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works.

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?”

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s.

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask.

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.”

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals.

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches.

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further.

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!”

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades.

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant.

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t.

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami.

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family.

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath.

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips.

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.”

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks.

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

“I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.”

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do.

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog.

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried.

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together.

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze.

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city.

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you.

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day.

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes.

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town.

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you.

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders.

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within.

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?”

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins.

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away.

But you still hear it.

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.”

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum.

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?”

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans.

But he doesn’t care.

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption.

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin.

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear.

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection.

Affection.

Towards your husband.

New. But maybe not so scary.

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet.

His, too.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible.

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it.

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved.

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought.

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it.

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen.

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach.

“And why might that be?”

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.”

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor.

Perfect.

It’s about as perfect as a day could be.

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be.

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship.

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional.

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table.

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.”

You nod.

It’ll be October.

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying.

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation.

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same.

Two years and nine months.

You’ve got this.

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington modern au #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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lukeywritesstuff · 8 months

Note

Reader has a pregnancy scare over the summer at the lake house and dosent tell Jack at first so he gets mad. He doesn’t really want a child rn but ends up accepting that they will have a baby. But it’s just a scare so their are not going to actually be parents

baby? no baby.

jack hughes x reader

warning: angst, yelling, pregnancy scare, mentions of abortion, punching (m on m), vomit, swearing and suggestive sexual content (no actual smut)

note: i’m not from the states so all timing for drives and flights and stuff are made up because i’ve been trying to research how far detroit airport is from bloomington AND NO BLOOMINGTON IS COMING UP ON MAPS. i actually went a bit crazy writing this because of that. ALSO this is the first fic i’ve written in a couple years that isn’t a joke so please bear with me because it’s not perfect at all.

lowercase intended

this past week has been a nightmare, from waking up at 6:30 in the morning to throw up, to dealing with motion sickness on an airplane and dealing with my boyfriends absolute bullshit.

let’s start from the beginning: wednesday july 12th, the day i started feeling ill. it was around 5:30 in the morning the first time i threw up. that day i thought it was a bug so i didn’t think much of it. but it kept happening all week, and this freaked me out because i knew i was leaving for michigan on monday to visit my boyfriend jack and his family.

monday couldn’t have come any slower, knowing i needed to talk to ellen before anyone else, i was hoping for the day to come faster. she’d be the only one i can ask about what’s going on with me as i haven’t seen my own family since august of last year since i moved to jersey for college.

the flight was terrible but short, it didn’t help my nausea at all, specially with the turbulence, jack was late to pick me up because he left his phone at the house when he went boating with his brothers so i had to sit around the airport for a few hours. i’m not even gonna think about uber either cuz i’d rather get crushed by a plane than sit for hours in an uber with a complete stranger.

ok getting off topic here, we’ll we got to the lake house after a very uneventful and quiet drive from the airport. ellen was finishing up dinner and luke, quinn and jim were playing basketball in the driveway, which quickly came to a stop as jack pulled up smashing the horn causing quinn to (jokingly) throw the ball at the car. (it did not break at all.)

i settled in to jacks room and we ate dinner, we talked about the boys hockey and training and my school and what i’m doing after i graduate next year. jokes were cracked and it was fun, i actually forgot about jack being a bit of a dick for a good hour and a half. after i stayed in the kitchen with ellen to help clean up, jack and luke ran to the x-box in the other room probably to play fortnite.

‘el, this past week i’ve been feeling quite nauseous this past week and i was wondering if i should worry about it. knowing you’ve been pregnant a few times, i felt it was best to ask you for advice on the situation.’ i said to my boyfriends mother.

‘well if it goes on for a few more days i’d consider going to a doctor, but for now you can go to the pharmacy just down the street and try a rest or 2 if you wanna have an idea quicker.’ she said and i nodded.

‘wait you’re pregnant?’ i hear from by the counter. quinn. he heard.

‘i’m not sure. i was just about to go to the pharmacy to get a test’ i told him.

‘i’ll drive i want some gato and fuckass jack frank the last one.’ he said and i nodded.

we went to the pharmacy and got 2 tests (and a shit ton of blue gato for quinn) and we went back to the house. i went to the bathroom in ellen’s room to take them since she wants to be there for me and honestly i’m glad i did. she’s been so supportive even if it might just be a scare.

the tests came out positive. i broke down in tears and went out to ellen.

‘positive, i’m pregnant. and i’m only 21’ i said.

‘oh sweetie. it’s all gonna be okay. you’re gonna be a great mom and jacks gonna be a great dad.’ ellen said embracing me.

‘so she’s pregnant?’ quinn asked from the door. i just nod my head at him.

suddenly i hear from the hallway ‘who’s pregnant?’ and ‘is it mom? i think i’m a bit too old to be an older brother’ and then a little ‘ow’ after.

then quinn had to open his big ass mouth and say ‘no. it’s y/n. she’s pregnant.’

‘what?!’ jack yelled. ‘and you fucker knew before me? you fucking asshole!’ i heard before i see jack coke into the room angrily to punch his older brother in the face.

‘jack get off!’ i yelled pulling him.

‘i cant believe you told quinn before me! have him father your fucking kid. i don’t want it. i don’t want kids at all. specially right now. i’m at my prime right now! i don’t need a fucking baby ruining it all for me! get out of my house that’s not my kid! and if it is fucking abort it!’ he yelled while crying making me cry even more.

right after luke dragged him to his room and i can hear yelling between them as quinn and ellen comforted me in the master bedroom. todays been a lot for me so i eventually pass out in my boyfriend(?)’s parents room with his mother stroking my hair.

on wednesday, exactly a week after i started having my nausea i decided to visit a doctor to get the baby and i checked out. i haven’t talked to jack since he yelled at me so i go with ellen.

‘okay so it seems like you’re not actually pregnant and the test you took was wrong.‘ the doctor said to me.

honestly i have no idea if i’m relieved or sad. i was honestly quite happy to potentially be having a baby, even if jack was being a huge JACKass about it.

we got home and i saw jack sitting on the porch with a bouquet of flowers.

‘baby, i’ve thought everything over these past few days, and i’m actually excited to have a baby! with you! i apologize for everything i said, but it just hurt knowing quinn found out before me, because i am the dad. but now i am excited for this baby and this new chapter of our lives!’ he said smiling at the end.

‘jack, it was a scare. there’s no pregnancy. i’ve just been having a stomach bug the doctor told me. the tests were wrong too. i’m sorry.’ i said frowning.

‘oh. well i guess that means we just go upstairs and start actually making a baby, because i kinda want one now!’ jack said before pulling me in the house.

once we got up to the bedroom i hear ellen ushering everyone out, probably to spare themselves from having to hear whatever we’re getting up to upstairs.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #quinn hughes

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roguecs17 · 2 years

Text

So, I want to talk about Helluva Boss, namely episode 1 of season 2

I namely wanted to talk about a few main things, buts let’s go scene by scene

First of all, baby! Stolas is precious, and precious and gay

While it did break my heart it was good to learn he and Stella didn’t marry for love, considering their present situation. It wasn’t so much that they fell out of love over time, but that they never loved each other at all, only getting together out of the need to bare an heir.

Even if Stella were a good person (which she is definitely not!!!) their relationship would probably have never worked out considering that Stolas is completely, utterly gay.

I mean, look at his face when he sees Blitz, that is a boy with a puppy love crush.

Honestly learning they’d met when they were kids makes their later arrangement that much more heartbreaking for a number of reasons

While I don’t have the screen grab for it, one thing I did wonder is if ‘worm horse’ was foreshadowing (is it foreshadowing if we already know the shadow) to Fizz losing his arms and legs.

For one, while it clear that Blitz was made aware of why he was sold to the Goetias it might have been that Stolas was never told that his father literally paid for Blitz to be his friend.

Also isn’t it utterly fucked up that Blitz’ dad LITERALLY sold his son for five bucks, and manipulated is scared child into stealing for him, which if Blitz had been caught I have no doubt that Stolas’ father would’ve killed him for it, especially since he is just an imp.

It was especially difficult for me that when Buckzo (I think that’s his dad’s name) talked about ‘helping pa and ma’ and Blitz says ‘of course I want to help ma’ not you or you guys, just his mother, which is just really sad considering the end of the last episode.

It also makes me wonder if Stolas got into trouble because of Blitz’ stealing, as much as it was fun in the moment, and fun for the two kids that day, there had to have been an afterward

Another note, which really hurts is that Stolas told Blitz about his grimoire and how it could take demons to the human world.

Which is later how Blitz knows to steal it, using that knowledge from the day when they were friends.

While I don’t think Stolas was pining for Blitz all these years, he was his gay awakening, and it makes sense for those feelings to come rushing back when he says him again later, though it’s obvious that Stolas is not as suave and forward as normal, despite his flirting.

It’s, almost sweet how they end up flirting, especially since it wasn’t coercion. Stolas was openly and enthusiastically wanting Blitz, and Blitz definitely could have made up with the book, especially since they didn’t really keep it quick

The last thing I wanted to talk about was Stella. Originally had had some sympathy for her, and with the knowledge given that was understandable. Her husband cheats on her with someone she views as beneath her, and she rightfully gets pissed, to the point of actively wanting him dead.

However, my view point has changed with this episode.

We’re shown and told that Stella and Stolas never loved eachother, that isn’t why they got married, as mentioned earlier.

We’re also shown that Stella, even pre-adultery, was incredibly mean and nasty towards Stolas. Publicly humiliating him, throwing things, yelling, and insulting him- and shows sick glee and making him suffer.

I really like the scene at the end, here:

You can see that Stolas actually looks, frightened, of Stella, and throughout this scene you see his exhaustion turn to anger, and while he is drawing back in the end he really does stand up for himself and his happiness as he forces the divorce

I really love this last shot, the finality of it, that Stolas is truly cutting Stella out of his life

All in all, fantastic episode, well worth the wait, and thanks I didn’t need my heart

#Stolas #helluva boss #helluva stolas #helluva blitzo #helluva fizzarolli #helluva season 2 #stolitz #helluva stolitz #stella #helluva stella

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for not wanting my partner to spend the holidays with his family?

So trigger warning for death/grief. I'm not sure if this is extremely straightforward in who is in the wrong here, it at least doesn't feel obvious to me.

My (24NB) mother (55F) passed away last week. She had struggled previously with cancer and liver failure but was seemingly doing well until a blood infection caused her to be hospitalized. She was expected to recover, but passed rather suddenly after a week in hospital.

She and I were incredibly close. We talked on the phone most days. The passing has been very difficult for me. Especially with it being so close to Christmas, I'm dreading the holidays. My mom was always the one who made Christmas special for my family.

Now, my partner (23M) loves Christmas and comes from a big family that is very close-knit. We've been together for a little over a year, and currently live together. Neither of us drive, but most of his family live 45 minutes from us. This makes visiting with them difficult as we're dependent on who can drive us and that usually means we have to stay much longer than we would with my family. As a result, he spent Thanksgiving with my family (Canadian Thanksgiving happening prior to my mom passing). This caused a total meltdown from his family, who saw this as me asking him to disrespect them. He ended up having to lie about being sick and missing both Thanksgivings.

Now that Christmas is approaching, I had already asked that we spend Christmas morning with my family if his family planned on being out of town just for ease. He agreed that would be easier, and the following year we could go with his family. This of course changed when my mom passed. Instead, my family planned on having a quiet Christmas together. I expected that he would still attend, especially since I'm expecting it to be hard on me.

His cousin (30sF) phoned the other day. They first talked about the hospital my mom passed in and how they had lost some of my moms belongings (the cousin works at the hospital and wanted to help us). I listened in to provide additional info for him to relay. At the end of that conversation, she brought up Christmas and said the plan was for herself and a few others to spend the entirety of Christmas Eve out of town with his family, and then leave Christmas morning following presents. He didn't argue, just gave a vague response along the lines of 'we'll see' which led to his cousin telling him it would be 'very unfair' of me to prevent him from spending Christmas with his family because I see him all the time and "it's only 24 hours". At the end, she added a quick "Your mom would really appreciate it!" Which hurt my feelings to hear, but I knew it wasn't intended that way.

The whole talk made me really upset, and I had to excuse myself to cry. After talking it through with a close friend, they suggested I bring it up to my partner just so he could understand that its difficult for me to think about Christmas for the time being. I did exactly that, and my partner got very upset with me. He told me that his cousin didn't intend it that way. He also told me that it was unfair that I already expected him to spend Christmas with my family, and that I was 'forcing' him to be a part of my family and taking him from his own.

It was never my intention to make him feel as though he couldn't spend time with his family, and I don't think I've ever said anything like that but I don't know how my words and actions have come across. I want him around for support during this first year without my mom, but I don't want him to feel that I'm forcing him into missing his own holidays. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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wintervalewritersecond · 6 months

Text

tears to shed iv - simon 'ghost' riley

masterlist // masterlist call of duty

requested: no, but requests are OPEN! request: x

A/N: last part! hope this makes up for the sad ending last part <3

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4

wordcount: warnings: ooc simon (like, very ooc), corpse bride au, she/her reader, happy ending

An arranged marriage to unite two worlds. But no one would have expected that it would bring together the living and the dead.

Your parents were much happier to hear that they were up in the social ladder now than that they were to hear that you had come back. Lord and Lady MacTavish also could not care less - as long as they got money, they would be set.

It is not like life with Johnny was bad. Not at all, actually. You had fun with him, and he was someone you feel comfortable with. He is so trustworthy, funny, and nice. It truly could have been so much worse.

The years pass, new people coming to the town, other people leaving. Babies are being born and elderly people are passing away. You aren't scared of death anymore - you have lived in it, you have loved in it.

Marriage to Johnny is like marrying a best friend. Both you and Johnny found out quite early on that you did love each other, yet more like friends or family instead of lovers. Not that you thought the other was ugly, mean, or uninteresting. It was just platonic, but to be quite honest, you did not mind.

You could be on the street, or worse, married to a horrible person. Lucky for you, you are 'stuck' with Johnny. Every single day felt refreshing, always going on trips or eating a delicious dinner. Your mother and father barely came to visit, saying they were much too busy with their new way of life. Lord and Lady MacTavish were also not seen very often, always far away, enjoying the money they now had.

Years seem to fly by.

The older you get, the faster time goes.

Your body is becoming weaker, the people around you have left, and the house feels much too big for only two people. It is winter now, and sickness is going around, a sickness that had also gotten the better of Johnny.

You sat by his side, his body covered with endless blankets, coughs coming from him ever so often.

"You are burning up," you mumble, your hand on his forehead.

He does not respond, only looking at the ceiling before finally turning his head to you. This is the most movement he has gone through this entire week. Johnny stays quiet for a moment, blinking slowly before licking his lips.

"Is the afterlife scary?"

"No," you softly say, taking hold of his hand, "It is fun, free, careless. You will have your own place, and you can have endless drinks at the bar. It is colourful and bright."

He hums, his hand softly squeezing yours as he looks past you.

"I think I would like to go there."

Your breath hitches in your throat, tears burning in your eyes as you look at him, bringing your other hand to his cheek.

"You do?"

Nothing but a hum yet again, his eyes looking past you.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Will you find me there?"

You nod, pressing a kiss to his hand.

"I will."

"Can you promise me something?"

Your heart feels heavy.

"Anything."

"After you find me... Also find Simon. That one man from years ago," he whispers, coughing, "If it... If it truly is as you said, then please, find him. Live the life you couldn't live now."

"Johnny," a tear falls down your cheek, "You are acting as if my life with you was not good."

"Oh, lass, we had a wonderful life. But the afterlife you describe... It is your second chance. Take it, please."

One last promise you make to him. Through sickness, through health, till death do you part.

"I promise you, Johnny. I love you so."

"And I love you."

After one last breath, one last blink, he leaves you. Leaves you behind as you did that one night, though you know he will not come back. More tears fall down your cheeks as you press a soft kiss to his forehead. Another friend lost.

You then spent months alone. No visitors, no Johnny, no parents.

It was weird.

The world seems so grey, so bleak, so colourless. There is nothing for you here. You eat just to eat, you read just to read. Everything seems meaningless. Another night where you go to sleep in a cold bed.

But this time, when you wake up, you feel different.

Your bones don't hurt, your limbs don't feel heavy, your hair doesn't feel brittle. Instead, you feel lively, weightless, free.

"A new arrival!"

Is the time finally here?

You open your eyes, the lights very bright, and you nearly can not believe what you see. It's the bar, the people, the music, the drinks.

"Wait..."

You quickly turn around, coming eye to eye with Johnny.

"Lass?"

You nod slowly, a smile forming on your face as you fling your arms around him.

"Oh, Johnny!" You pull away from him for a second, your hands on his cheeks, "I can't believe it! Oh, you look so young."

He does not nearly look the same as when you last saw him. His skin isn't wrinkly, his eyes are bright, and he has the same silly haircut.

"Says you," he grins, holding out his cup to you, "You look as mighty as ever."

You look at his cup and back at him. You are actually here. But, if you are... Is Simon here as well? Johnny still has a smile on his face, taking a swig from his beer. He knows what, or rather who, you are looking for.

"Go on," he nods his head to the exit, "We will have eternity to celebrate that you're here. Go, we can talk later."

You press a kiss to his cheek, nodding as you lift up the bottom of your skirt, walking up the stairs that lead to the outside of the bar. You are met with a mirror, right next to the door. You look so much younger, almost as if no time had passed. Dressed in a nightgown, your hair done up, looking youthful as ever. The age when you first got here, gone back in time, just like Johnny.

The roads, the coffins, the lights - all are exactly as you remember them being. You have dreamt of taking this exact walk dozens of times, clenching onto the dogtags that you had yet to take off. Now, you actually walk there, the tags tight in your hand. A left here, straight, and then...

You are so absorbed by your own thoughts that you do not register the person in front of you. You yelp, nearly falling over, but catching yourself by holding onto a crate.

"Oh, sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!"

"Y/N?"

You look up, you know that voice...

"Price?"

"I can't believe it!" He laughs, pulling you to him to give you a big hug, "You are here! Oh my god, wait until Simon hears about this. You are going to give him a heart attack!"

"Where is he?"

"At home," he backs off, nodding his head into the direction of the house, "Hasn't been out too much. Kept his mask back on, been in a real mood for a while. You know, he never got over you."

He still thinks of you?

"Neither have I," you whisper, looking up at the man.

"Oh, I know," he only shrugs, "Johnny and I have become well acquainted over these months. Sadly haven't been able to really talk to Simon too much, but I think that might change."

The two of you continue your way, only a few doors away from the love of your afterlife. What if he doesn't want to see you? What if you are not like how he expected? Maybe he does not wish for a life with you.

"Don't worry your little head, Y/N," Price whispers, stopping at the door, "I will leave you be. Come by the bar later?"

You nod, sending him a smile as he leaves you alone at the door. What now? Do you knock? You feel nervous, yet you don't feel the pounding of your heart or the sweat in your hands. You are excited, though you can't feel the butterflies in your stomach.

A soft knock on the door.

Was it not hard enough? What if he isn't home? What if he didn't hear? What if he acts like he doesn't hear so he doesn't have to answer-

"Price, I told ya, I don't want to go to the-" the door gets ripped open, revealing the masked man you have thought about each and every day, "pub."

"We don't have to if you don't wish to, Simon."

"Wh... Is that you?"

He grips your cheeks tightly, scared that if he lets go, you will disappear. His eyes scan your face, the rest of his face hidden behind the skull mask he wore when you met him. You nod as much as you can, but the tight grip barely allows for you to move. Within a second, you are in his arms, his arms around you and his head on top of yours. Even if you wanted to, you could never get out of this embrace.

"I can't believe it. You are here."

"I am here," you confirm.

"I have waited each and every day. Price told me your husband came here before you did."

You nod.

"He did. But he made me promise him something."

What did he promise? Should Simon be scared? Are you only here to say hello, only to never see him again?

"He wants me to have a second chance. To life my... afterlife, the way it was intended. With you."

He slowly lets go, looking down at you with big eyes. His tags still around your neck and you looking like an angel. Is this real? Someone, pinch him, though it will not work.

"With me?"

"Johnny and I were friends. Best friends, even," you whisper, holding onto Simon his hands, "He told me to find you, Simon. And, if you will have me, I would want to spend this eternity with you."

That is all that he has ever wanted to hear.

So, he gets down on one knee.

"Death made us part, but now brought us together," he kisses your knuckles, "May I ask you to be my wife, for now until forever?"

One hell of a way to ask you to marry him.

#simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #call of duty imagine #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #corpse bride! ghost

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midnightstar-90 · 1 year

Note

Hey I was wondering if you cloud do a black!reader x Dave Lizewski or Todd Haynes I haven't really seen much of blackreader fics with them

Like a Princess

Todd Haynes x Black! Fem! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | Other Actors/Characters Masterlist

Summary: After Y/N’s birthday is ruined, Todd comes over, making the girl feel better. He ends up doing her hair and a little more.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol, Todd has a hair pulling kink (But NO Smut, Just Making Out)

A/N: I’ve never been good with writing stuff like kissing, so I’m sorry if this is terrible.

Words: 2.8K words

A girl’s 16th birthday is one of the most special times in a girl's life. Not only is she celebrating 16 years of her life, but she’s also aging into a new form of maturity. And for Y/N, that form of maturity was getting her license. She had been studying for months, and her father promised her a car fit for a princess on her birthday.

“So, what are you doing for your birthday, Y/N?” Y/N’s friend, Todd, asked.

“Mom said we could go to the Cheesecake Factory for my birthday. She said I could invite you all, also,” Y/N replied.

“Sick.”

“Sounds cool.”

“That sounds fun,” Todd, Marty, and Dave said simultaneously.

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Yay! Okay, I’ll tell my mom that you all are all down to go,” She said with a wide grin. The boys all smiled at the girl as they watched their friend practically dance down the hallway. But something else, besides happiness, lit up inside of Todd. Something that made him want to protect the girl at all costs, but he didn’t know what.

Y/N’s birthday had barely started before a female voice, that she recognized as her mother’s, yelled through the house. “Y/F/N (Your Father’s Name), get your ass down these steps right now,” She yelled. It took a second before the sound of her father’s slow and tired steps made its way out of her parents' shared room and down the steps, just as her mother ordered.

Y/N watched her father through the crack of her door, noticing her father’s posture wasn’t straight and confident like it usually was. It was tense as if he were in pain. And he stumbled when he walked. Y/N frowned, knowing that this would only lead to disaster.

When her father got downstairs, all she could hear was the anger in her mother’s voice. “Where were you last night?” Y/M/N (Your Mother’s Name) asked Y/F/N. All she could hear from her father was some slurred mumbles.

“This is not the first time, Y/F/N. You keep doing this,” She cried.

Y/N didn’t know what was going on. But she did know that whatever was happening had to do with her father coming home late at night. Not wanting to ruin her delightful mood that came with her birthday, Y/N closed her door, not wanting to hear her parents argue.

But her time to herself was cut short when a loud, “What?” from her mother and a loud bang was heard through the floor. Y/N raced downstairs, but stayed hidden.

“Y/F/N, it’s her birthday. How could you do this to her?” Y/N heard her mother ask her father. Y/N looked down with mixed feelings of confusion and sadness. ‘What could my father have done to hurt me?’ She asked herself.

“Mom? Dad?” Y/N spoke, leaving her hiding spot.

When Y/M/N saw you walk in, her face lit up with a smile, as if nothing happened. But by the looks in her eyes, she could tell that something was wrong.

“Y/N, dear, what are you doing down here, I thought you were getting ready for your party,” Y/M/N said in a caring tone. A tone that wasn’t expressed just a second ago.

“I heard a loud noise and yelling. I was just making sure everything was okay,” Y/N told her mother with a nervous smile. She looked between her father and mother. Her father stayed slumped over the counter with a shameful look, and her mother stood straight as a pencil with a smile big enough to hid a lie.

But her mothers smile didn’t hold for long. As Y/N spoke, her smile slowly began to fade into a frown. “Actually, Honey, we have something to tell you,” Her mother uttered.

Nervous, Y/N slowly stepped towards her parents. When she stood between her parents her mother began to speak again. “Honey, your father is an alcoholic,” Y/M/N said, hating that she had to say those words. She never wanted her daughter to think any less of her father, but now it was coming to affect her too. “And he has been for awhile.” Y/F/N looked away, disappointed in himself.

Y/N looked over at her father with a sad look. “Dad?” She whispered quietly. When he didn’t say anything, she walked over to him and gave him a hug. He still looked away from the girl as he softly pushed Y/N off of him. “I spent all the money I had saved up for your car, and some of our money for the bills,” He softly spoke, closing his eye as to not cry.

Y/N looked at her father in shock. “What?” Her voice cracked as she questioned her father. “But you promised me,” She said as stray tears began to roll down her face. Y/M/N looked away from her daught, unable to look at her daughter while she was in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Her father mumbled.

Y/N shook her head with angry tears now streaming down her face. “No,” she whispered. “No, you aren’t sorry, because if you were, you won’t have done it. You made your choice. You chose alcohol over your own daughter.” And with that she was gone. Back upstairs to the only place she knew she could let herself go. “Happy fucking birthday to me,” She yelled out, slamming her door.

Y/F/N and Y/M/N looked at eachother, both crying. They didn’t know what to say or do to eachother, only that they disappointed their daughter on what should be a happy day.

An hour later, a knock at Y/N’s bedroom door appeared, signaling someone wanting to come in. Y/N lifted her head out of her pillow and said, “I don’t want to talk to you, dad.” Her face landed back into the pillow as someone walked in.

“Usually, I would make a joke about this, but I don’t think it’s the time for that,” Todd Joked, walking over to her bed.

“I told you guys not to come. The party is canceled,” Y/N mumbled into her pillow.

Todd sat next to Y/N on her bed as he looked down at her with a sad smile. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to her thick, nappy hair. He wasn’t sure if it was the right move, mostly because she had never let him touch her hair, but he didn’t care. He gently plowed his fingers through her soft hair, careful not to pull a knot.

“What happened?” He asked the girl, repeating the motion. He didn’t get a response from the girl. Instead, Y/N sat up, forcing Todd’s fingers out of her hair as she sat criss-crossed across from him.

She pushed the hair out of her face before she softly spoke, “My father is an alcoholic who spent all his money, including my ‘16th birthday’ car fund on booze.”

She looked down, burying her face in her hands. Todd looked away, contemplating on what to say. A few seconds go by before he begins to speak. “That sucks. But you shouldn’t let not getting a car ruin your birthday. Just because you didn’t get something you really wanted now doesn’t mean you won’t ever get it,” He said with a smile.

Y/N’s hands left her face as she let out a depressed sigh. Todd looked up at the girl, noticing how sad she looked. Dried tear stains ran down her face, her nostrils flared with every breath she took, and her full lips quivered as she cried.

Todd leaned over so he could wipe her face. “Stop crying. A princess should never cry on her birthday.” His words brought a smile to Y/N’s face as she slowly looked Todd in the eye. “How about a makeover?” Todd asked with a gleeful grin.

Y/N gave the boy an unsure look, “Mmm, I don’t know, Todd.”

“Come on. I’ve never done hair before, but that’s what the internet is for,” Todd said with a grin.

“I’ve never trusted anyone other than my mother and I with my hair. My hair can get difficult to manage.”

“Then you can guide me through it. Come on, Y/N. I just want you to feel better,” Todd begged.

Y/N contemplated Todd’s offer. On one hand, she had a friend who just wanted to distract her from the mess of a morning she had experienced today. But then there was the fact that that friend didn’t know anything about hair, let alone black girl hair. Y/N thought for another second before answering the brown-eyed boy.

“Mmm… Fine, you can give me a makeover,” She sighed. Todd’s fists flew through the air. “Yes!” He called out excitedly. His reaction made Y/N look at her friend as if he were crazy.

Catching her looks, he looked over at Y/N confused, and asked, “What?” She shrugged him off, as if nothing happened, and got up to get her hair products.

The first thing Y/N instructed Todd to do was wash her hair. That alone took an hour, leaving Y/N with a sour impression.

“Are you mad?” He asked as he and Y/N walked back into her room. She wore a towel on her head as she angrily turned toward the brown haired boy. “Y/N head is burning?” She spoke through her teeth.

“You told me to comb out your hair with the conditioner in,” He argued.

“Yeah, and you did, but you didn’t comb it as I told you to. I said comb from bottom to top. You did the exact opposite,” Y/N glared at the boy.

“How was I supposed to know?” Todd asked, dramatically throwing his arms through the air.

“Um, I don’t know- maybe the 1,500 times I yelled, “Ow”,” Y/N seethed through her teeth.

Todd took a deep breath before speaking to the girl once more. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t listen, but I promise the styling section will be much easier.”

Todd had lied when he said he’d be listen. It seemed that every time Y/N told him what comb to use, he would use the exact opposite of what she asked for. He aggressively went at the knots in her hair, but in the end it worked out fine.

Y/N decided to instruct Todd through a basic braid. She didn’t feel he was ready for anything more than that. And by the pain from the process, she felt as if she should have started with the classic high ponytail. But Todd didn’t do all bad.

Y/N stood in front of her mirror, admiring Todd’s work in the reflection. “I don’t know, Toddy. I’m conflicted,” she spoke as she looked at herself from all angles.

“Conflicted? For what?” Todd asked, confused. He sat on the girls bed, watching her with admiration.

“Letting you do my hair,” she replied with a scoff.

Todd looked at the dark-skinned girl, bewildered. He aggressively slapped his palm to his chest and grabbed it in pain. “Ouch!” Todd joked.

Y/N laughed at his antics before turning to face him. “You tried to kill me!” She exclaimed.

Todd was no longer focused on the conversation. He couldn’t help but block out everything but her laugh. It was a beautiful sound that allowed a peaceful sensation to wash through him, like the sounds of birds chirping in the morning.

“How would you like it if I tried to pull all your hair out at once?” Y/N spoke, walking towards the boy. Not listening, Todd nodded his head. It wasn’t until the girl went to grab his hair that he realized what she said. Leaning back, Todd shook his head frantically and yelled out, “Y/N? Y/N, no. Stop!” Y/N laughed as she pounced on the boy, causing the two to roll around, wrestling with each other as Y/N continued to grab Todd’s hair.

It only took about 3 minutes for Todd to tap out. Y/N sat on top of the boy, straddling his waist, and out of breath. Todd looked up at the girl, turned on by the situation.

Before today, Todd had always admired the girl from afar, scared she would reject him. But at this moment, Todd wasn’t scared. Taking a deep breath, his eyes scaled the girl’s body before going back up to her eyes. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” Todd mumbled in a breath-less whisper. Y/N’s cheeks grew warm at Todd’s words. Todd noticed this before slowly leaning up, whispering into the girl's ear, “Is it bad that I want to kiss you?”

The room was quiet. While Todd waited for an answer, Y/N sat on top of the boy with her lips parted. She didn’t know what to say. She was speechless. Y/N looked down at the boy, noticing his brown eyes that glistened in the light of her lamp. Or the soft curls that rested on top of his head.

Y/N contemplated the boy’s words before resting one of her hands on the boy’s cheek. As she leaned down, her other hand rested against his side. Todd’s breath hitched at the thought of how close their lips were to each other. A second later, Y/N’s lips collided with his. Their lips slowly moved against the others.

The hand on Todd’s cheek moved up to grip his hair. When she gave his hair a light tug, she felt a moan against her lips. The girl smirked against the boy’s lips and did it again. Todd moaned once more, grabbing onto the girl's hips. Their kiss lasted for a few more seconds before the two pulled away. Both of them desperately gasped for air as they looked at each other with hungry eyes.

The two were about to go for round two when a loud knock came from Y/N’s door. Y/N quickly rolled off of Todd, clumsily falling onto the floor, before the door opened. Dave and Marty walked inside, looking between the two. Between Todd’s messy hair and red face and Y/N’s awkward position on the floor, the two couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“What’s going on,” Dave asked, confused.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Y/N frantically asked. She stood up and straightened herself out.

Dave’s eyes scrunched at Y/N’s question, making him rebuttal with, “We did knock. And now that I’m standing here, I think we should have waited.” Marty stood behind Dave looking at Todd with an impressed smile.

Y/N saw this and scoffed. “Ya think,” she spoke, angrily.

“Okay, we're sensing some hostility. We were going to see if you maybe wanted to go out to eat, for your birthday. But since you’re going to act like this, we’ll just leave,” Dave said, turning to leave.

“Have fun, you two,” Marty added before leaving with Dave.

Y/N looked over at the curly haired boy, noticing that he was giving her a look that said that they should go with them. Y/N looked away with an annoyed sigh. “Fine, Dave, we’ll go!” She called out to the boys.

The two slowly backed into the girl’s room, giving her a smile that they knew would irritate her. They cupped their ears and turned so their ears faced the girl. “What was that?” They teased.

“We’ll go,” she said through her teeth.

“Okay then. Birthday girl, you get ready to go. Lover boy, you come with us,” Dave said, calling Todd over. Todd and Y/N looked at each other, knowing they would never live down this moment. Todd got up and left with the other boys.

Y/N watched as the door closed behind them before pulling a wide smile on her face. She went over to her closet, pulling out a baby pink babydoll top and light blue mom jeans. She put the clothes on and put on a silver chain her father gave her last year. Gripping the necklace, she moved it between her fingers, remembering the day her father gave it to her before going to put on some matching ankle strapped flats.

Y/N gave herself one last look in the mirror and left her room. “Ready to go,” Y/N said, leading the boys down the stairs.

“Wow, nice braid, Y/N,” Marty said. Even though she couldn’t see it she knew Todd was blushing at Y/N’s smile that appeared when Marty spoke. She was proud and he knew.

“Only the best for the princess,” Todd said with a smile as he went to open the door for the girl.

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thisisthinprivilege · 4 months

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ANONYMOUS PLEASE <3 I’m at my wit’s end with my mother. I wanted to complain about her fatphobia, and I also wanted to you thank you for how reading here has helped me and my sisters.

I’m a small fat in my 40s. I’ve been a bigger fat, and I’ve also been very, very skinny. I developed anorexia at about age 6 due to the usual issues one develops that from and was thinner than thin until I finally started to actually recover. I got very fat very quickly on the drugs I was put on, then dropped down in size to small fat once I stabilized and didn’t need them. No idea what my “comfortable” or “natural” size would have been without so much damage, but I’m going to guess “about this”, since it’s what I am when I’m neither restricting to the point of heart damage, nor on drugs that also made me sick in many other ways. For me, a comfortable size is the size I have when I’m not actively altering it in ways that hurt me, so I’m not going to question it.

My next younger sister, however, is a bigger fat, and pretty much always has been. In her 30s, she’s fat in a way that does restrict her clothing options and employment (she once told me that an interviewer had given her “feedback” on a job interview, and it was that she looked “sloppy”. She was wearing perfectly nice, clean, pressed, professional clothes- and expensive clothes of course, as that’s the rule for bigger clothes as we know. She was just fat in them.) Being “healthy” doesn’t really matter to this - and indeed if it did I wouldn’t have half of this rant - but she is. Fit and strong, great at physical things like endurance sports in a way I never have been. She is also perhaps the most self-aware and level-headed person I have ever met about stuff like this. When what people say bothers her, she will discuss her feelings and not try to hide them or their impact, but she will also deconstruct, and conclude that what the person has said is stupid. So it’s like she neither tries to pretend she’s immune to harm, nor allows others to be right in hurting her.

And she eats exactly what she wants, and since we’re both autistic this also includes pickiness on sensory stuff - she doesn’t eat what she doesn’t want to, and does eat what she does. She was a great person to be around during my recovery, even though I never even mentioned to her at the time that I was in it (I didn’t tell anyone in my family about it until years later,) just because she made food such a non-issue.

And our mother will not shut up about her size. Our mother is also fat, we’re a fat family, but my mother decided years ago that I am the one to make my sister “address her weight.” I literally left the country to get away from my family (not related to this specifically) and she STILL emails me about it. I don’t respond to those emails. I DO have lovely chats with my beloved sister on Skype though.

I have tried all your scripts with my mom before - the team here have SO many great scripts that have worked wonderfully for me in other situations, like work or friend groups. I have told my mother I don’t agree, many times backed up with sources (sources thanks to you!) I have told her I’m not interested in the conversation and have hung up or walked away when she has persisted. I’ve called her out when she tries it on in public on multiple occasions. She will not stop. She is convinced that my extremely wonderful, fit and thriving, very happy sister is at death’s door. She’s also convinced that I, a person who has been repeatedly hospitalized for ED and the mental complications that caused it (which she now knows all about, and in fact did visit me in hospital the last time I was in, which was only a few years ago by the way) am the person to talk to her about it and make her see the error of her ways. My sister and I talk quite openly about this, and we’re both agreed our mother is full of shit and we’ll both be ignoring this. We both have also decided to persist in having a relationship with her, though with BIG boundaries around it. (Trust me, this fat bullshit is the thin edge of the wedge with her, and we’re both VERY exacting about when we will talk to her and what about. But we also both love our mother, and she’s the only parent we have.) The thing I’m most struggling with I think is that as I said, our mother is also fat. I actually feel some real sympathy here as I’m aware she’s clearly projecting her own issues on both of her daughters, but god is it mean. She couldn’t see how sick I was when I was skinny, even though I was very literally beginning to die (in fact, all she had to say to me was to mention my weight when I got fat) and she can’t see how happy my sister is in her life, because she’s fat so can’t possibly be happy, and she’s still, now, as perhaps some last gasp of control, attempting to make us fight each other over it.

It hasn’t worked, thankfully, and it never will.

My mom has many other issues, I’m sure, but my god, it is sometimes quite astounding to look at what hell fatphobia hath wrought on my mom’s psyche and ideas of being a parent. I’m grateful my sister(s) and I instead read blogs like this so we’ll hopefully pass a lot less of this on. So I guess this rant is half a complaint and half a thanks. It’s been really helpful to be able to come here and read, for both of us (and our younger sisters as well, who we are steadily converting), to remind ourselves that mom’s wrong. My sister is fat and an exceptional person. I’m fat now too, and the world didn’t end (and in fact actually got a lot better.) Our mom is just plain fucking wrong. Anyway, thank you. I know you’re not planning to be as active with new posts lately, but please know that you’ve been wonderful this whole time, and keeping your archives up is of immense help to at least this one group of sisters. It's been awesome to relay one of the younger ones to an older post from time to time (actually quite a few times!) Note: I wanted to tag ED as I do mention it but I don't see it in the list of tags under submission. I tagged "trigger warning", "Weightloss", and "food" to hopefully cover it.

Apologies for the first post of this.

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pullakori · 20 days

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Revive cherik 2024

Day 11. AU

Stardew Valley AU

This one has been on my mind for ages and while my life is violently beating me down and I have no energy or time to write an actual fic, I wanted to share this one nevertheless.

There are endless possibilities how this could go, but these are the two I've had.

1. Charles as the farmer.

Kurt had taken the charge of Brian Xavier's company when he had died, turning it into a souless corporation, where Charles now works, but has no real power over. He is sick of Kurt's treatment of him and all the pretencious people who try to get close to him just to gain something. The frustration of the situation and the backstab world of business world makes him seek for an out. He finds out that there is a farm that his grandfather had left for Brian and which had then been passed to him. So, he decides to leave the company and head towards Stardew Valley (Genosha Valley? Maybe not X'D)

The farm is in shambles, but Charles is not too defeated and starts to fix everything up slowly but surely. He meets the people who live in the town and most of them are happy to welcome him to the Valley and are encouraging of his efforts to start his farm. But when Charles meets Erik, the local blacksmith, when he brings most of his tools for a fixing, the other man is not too impressed. He fixes the tools, it's his job after all, but doesn't think that Charles, a rich city boy, will last even to the end of the year.

Well, Charles is ready to prove Erik wrong and works twice as hard as he had before. The beginning is rough, he knows next to nothing about agriculture, but he is if nothing else but stubborn and slowly learns and succeeds to turn the farm back to it's former glory. And maybe he also develops feelings towards Erik along the way. And the blacksmith also learns that there was more to Charles than he thought in the beginning.

2. Erik as the farmer

Erik is working for Shaw with minimum wage and it's slowly sucking his life out of him. He hates everything about his work, his coworkers, his boss and his current life. After one late night at work he finds a letter from his mother who passed away years ago. It tells him about a farm that belonged to her grandparents and his mother had planned to move there too, but her health made it impossible. But maybe Erik could find a nice life there. Erik hadn't payed too much attention to the farm mentioned in his mother's will, but now... It sounds just what he needs. So with a huge middlefinger, he leaves Shaw's company and heads to the farm.

It's in a bad condition, but Erik is ready to work hard for it and this time, the work feels actually meaningfull and at the end of the day he doesn't feel like he is slowly suffocating. The townspeople are pleasant too, if a bit nosy. Especially Charles, the teacher of the town, who lives in a trailer with his step brother. But as Eriks first crops grow, so do his feelings for the other man as they spend more and more time together. And suddenly Erik notices how he has become a part of the community.

Nevertheless who is the farmer, the end conflict would be:

The valley life is good and Charles/Erik has found a community there, where people care about each other and are like a one big family. Everything is fine, until Kurt's/Shaw's company arrives to the valley and threathens to change everything for the worse (capitalism, you know). Charles/Erik has to face the life they had left behind to save their newfound family. But this time, they don't have to do it alone.

And there is so much ability to customise this AU!

- Which x-men character is which stardew valley character (Even Erik and Charles don't have to be the ones I chose here. Erik could also be a struggling writer living in a cabin on the beach or a shopkeeper who is having a rivarly with Kurt's megamart. Charles in turn could also be a researcher, living with his sister's family near the mountains or a doctor, who has to patch Erik back together after a monster attack in the mines.)

- If you want a kid fic, you can make either Erik or Charles or both single fathers and have all or some of their kids there too.

- Could be an AU with or without powers. I usually prefer powered AUs myself so that's what I was thinking while planning this. But not a necessity.

- Would most likely end up as quite a fluffy fic, but there is also room for hurt/comfort for example.

#revivecherik #i wanted to do more but this is the best i can manage right now #real life is a cruel invention #my writing #au #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik

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aetheternity · 1 year

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Teyvat babysitting service

Synopsis: Your mother has important errands to run all day so she leaves you with her in home babysitting center. Which means watching over six very energetic kids for an afternoon. Luckily Aether is there to teach you the ropes.

CW: Just some sweet fluff. Reader has you/your pronouns. Venti and Scaramouche have different color hair than in canon.

A/N: I was reading the cutest fic by: teaberrii with a similar premise and it gave me this idea but like I put my own spin on it. Go check out their version it's super adorable. Plus I needed to write something in between two other projects.

A/N 2: Quick list of things that got cut, Reader calling Scaramouche 'demon child.' {I didn't know how people would feel about that}. Aether giving Scaramouche animal crackers with all the heads cut off. {Really sad I cut this one} Venti calling reader perfect {Didn't have a good place to add that} Aether cursing {Just the word ass but still} and last but not least Aether making fun of reader for having no child care experience {Also something I couldn't figure out where to place. I really wanted to put that in too but I guess right here in the authors note is the best I can do.}

Characters: Aether (10), Heizou (9), Kazuha (9), Scaramouche (8), Venti (7), Xiao (6).

Introduction

Ok so you might've agreed to something dumb. Something you never would've in a million years had it been anyone else. But this was your mom, your mom who you'd never heard sounding so frazzled before. She'd scheduled a doctor's appointment and a couple other appointments which she now couldn't get out of and the person she had hired to run the daycare for the day while she was out had called out sick only two hours ago. Lucky for her she'd remembered you were off from work on Saturday. Which is how you ended up begrudingly agreeing to babysit despite having no experience with the field.

Six kids as well..

You'd arrived exactly when you said you would however obtaining your mother's attention was immediately a nightmare.

"Mom.."

"Their scheduled snack time, nap time, playtime and pickup times are all on the paper on the table listed 'Name's to do list'." She stated struggling to pull her arm through her sleeve.

"Mom.." You begged glancing behind you at the ten pairs of eyes all glaring into your soul.

"And if I'm not back before six all of their parents know I had someone else here to take over for the day." She briskly headed towards the door clicking her heels as you rushed to keep up. Little giggles following behind you both.

"Mom.."

"And if you have any problems at all talk to Aether."

"Who's Aether??" You questioned

"Here I am." A small blonde boy stood from a dimly lit corner. His braid swayed along as he headed towards the rest of the kids with a book tucked into his possession.

"He's my favorite little helper." Your mom grinned patting Aether's head. "Alright, now you kids be good for Name ok? I promise this is only for today."

"Too bad.. our new babysitter's so pretty." A brown haired kid with pigtails said.

"Wait my assistant is a child himself??!"

"Trust me, as long as you're kind to him he'll help you all day." She leans in to kiss your cheek. "I have to hurry if I'm going to make this appointment on time. Thank you so much for agreeing to this."

"Moooomm." You childishly pout but she's already gone shutting the door quickly behind her.

You sneak a glance behind you and the kids stare back.

"What makes you so qualified to take care of us for the day?" One of the kids scoffs.

"Scara, we said we'd play nice." The one you remember as Aether speaks up.

"No, you all agreed to be nice. I would never make a promise I can't keep." And with that he storms off, the other kids slowly dispersing as well and you're honestly grateful for it as their eyes were creeping you out.

"Here you go Xiao." Aether slides the book he'd been retrieving into the grasp of the only kid that had stayed when everyone else left. "Welcome to Teyvat's babysitting center, Name." He turns to you with a smile.

The first hour

"Sorry if this comes across as mean but you're a child yourself. How are you apart of the help?"

"I help your mom everyday. This group looks cute but they're a handful." Aether replies as you head over to the kitchen to recieve the note your mom had left.

"Right.." You sigh trying not to make it obvious that you don't trust a word he says.

A ten year old? Seriously? Isn't that breaking some kind of child labor laws? Does he even get paid to assist? Do his parents know? He can't possibly have any big jobs at least.

"Ok, five boys and one girl to watch today.." You say aloud, flipping the page your mom had left for you over. "Great.."

"Actually it's six boys." Aether interjects

"What? Even that one?" You point across the room at the one with pigtails from earlier rummaging around in the toy bin.

"Yes, we're all guys."

"But he's wearing a dress.." You blink a little more stunned than you'd like to admit.

Aether laughs, "It's two shirts and a pair of leggings. Don't worry he wouldn't be offended if he heard you say that. He's used to being seen as a girl."

"Well that's just great." You huff setting the paper back on the table just as the same boy you'd been talking about ran over, his heels clicking across the hardwood as he came.

"Here! This is for you." He stops next to Aether shoving a plastic flower towards you. Its white petals drooping a bit but it was still quite pretty for a fake. You grasped it by the green stem and the boy in front of you smiled with glee. "I want you to have it cause it's pretty like you." He giggles before running off.

"Well Venti already likes you. One down five to go. Though Venti's approval is the easiest to get."

"Alright lay it on me. Everything I need to get through taking care of all you kids." You place your hands on your hips making eye contact with Aether.

Aether pushes a chair up next to you, resting his knees in the cushioning as he points out into the living room. "Here's all you need to know: Xiao right over there, smallest, youngest and likes to be alone. The only people he really likes are me, your mom and his dad. He's probably the easiest boy here."

"Easier than you?"

"Well, he doesn't really do anything. As long as he has his snack on time and his nap on time he's fine." Aether shrugs and you nod along. "Next we have Heizou and Kazuha, their moms have been best friends since high-school so they were raised like brothers. Which means they're basically always together. One of them always brings board games or cards or something and they play together most of the day."

"Three easy kids, lucked out."

"Sounds like you're hoping for an easy day." Aether teases "Venti is a bit of a menace. He sneaks snacks, loves sweets, cries whenever any of the other kids cry and he won't sleep without Dvalin."

"Dvalin?"

Aether points and you follow his direction. "His blue stuffed dragon." Aether shakes his head like he's remembering something truly god awful. "It went missing once and he screeched so loud we thought the windows would break."

"Keep track of the stuffed dragon.. got it." You nod, "Wait he cries when other kids cry? Why?"

"I believe there are two reasons he does that, one, he wants attention too. Which is very possible, Venti is a bit of an attention hog. Or two that he feels other people's emotions so strongly that he's just experiencing their pain with them. You can decide for yourself but I'm going with number one."

"This is all.. helpful." How is this ten year old so knowledgeable?

"And that leads us to our nutcase Scara. He builds block towers just because he likes to knock them over. Hates sweets-"

"Hates sweets? What kind of kid hates sweets.."

Aether shrugs, "And he should never be left alone too long without supervision."

"To be fair isn't that the same for all you kids?"

Aether freezes, "Wait he's not-"

A crashing sound makes you and all the kids divert your attention down the hall. "Oh God.. it's been fifteen minutes!" You groan jogging along with Aether on your heels.

You shove open the bathroom door to find Scaramouche standing beside the broken lid that belonged on the toilet tank. A low chorus of "Oooo's" began behind you and you turn to see Aether in shock with Venti, Heizou and Kazuha all leaning on each other in the doorway.

"I dropped my car in the toilet.." Scara said innocently, shifting back and forth on both legs. Though the smile on his face said he wasn't even slightly sorry.

"Why would you bring a car to the bathroom in the first place?" You grunt peaking inside the tank only to see nothing inside.

"Because I'm eight." He scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Ugghh Aether take everyone back out into the living room. I'll clean up in here."

You hear Aether shoo the kids away behind you. A soft whisper of, "You're in so much trouble.." From Venti soon followed by silence. And you sigh working to clean up the tiniest pieces of the broken top first. Once that's finished you slide the top back onto the toilet broken and all. You'll probably have to pay for it yourself but it was your fault for being irresponsible. You pull the lid up, looking into the bowl to see what you can only assume is the red car Scara had been searching for laying beneath the surface of the water.

Why was he even touching the tank then? With every part of your brain screaming in agony you shove your hand into the freezing water below, yanking his tiny car out with a heavy groan. Before you can even begin to bleach your hands until you clean your skin off you hear a loud call down the hall.

Placing the car in the sink, you shake your hand out stomping your way back into the main room. You're immediately met with a disgruntled Aether trying his hardest to yank Venti off the kitchen counter as the small boy stuck his hand up to reach the cookies on the top shelf.

"Venti!" You reach around his legs gently placing him back on the floor. "It's not lunchtime and it's not snack time." He pouts but surprisingly heads back off towards the toy bin.

You were at least glad to see that aside from Venti just now everyone else was being good. Heizou and Kazuha had returned to their game, Xiao was on the floor sucking his thumb while flipping through a book and Scaramouche was laughing at the scene that had just occurred only a few feet away.

"You mister are on timeout, ten minutes for breaking that top."

He sticks his face closer to yours, "Oh yeah? How do you plan to make me huh?"

Before you can respond Aether is by your side, "It's ten minutes for breaking Name's mom's property which is a good deal considering what you'd get if our normal caretaker were here. And this place has always been good to you considering how awful your home life can be."

"You think that's the way to get me to do what you say?"

"Ten minutes for poor behavior and I'll throw in all the blocks from my jenga box so you can build the tallest tower to break when you get out of containment." Aether points and you watch as Scaramouche's eye twitches but before long he's walking his way over to the timeout chair. "Go wash your hands off, I can handle everyone for right now."

You breathe a sigh of relief as you rush back into the bathroom, scrubbing your hands thrice with as much soap as you could. As well as the car that'd been discarded in the sink. You didn't hear a peep this time and for the first time today you were unbelievably happy to have Aether by your side, helping you through this.

Lunchtime

Aether had helped you get the table from your mother's closet and you'd allowed him to carry into the main room for the kids lunchtime. Not at all child labor.. it was a cute kid sized table that barely weighed anything. The kids just grabbed their own chairs from the corner where they'd been stacked up in the corner of the room. Except for Xiao who needed Kazuha's help.

"Phew." You looked out into the open room and Aether pushed the chair from earlier up next to you.

"So shall we get started on meals?"

"You wanna help with this too?" You chuckle but you're honestly a bit happy seeing as your mom had not given you any instructions on what they actually eat.

"Everything is brought by all of our parents. So I can tell you what everyone eats." You nod along as you'd done earlier. "Heizou and Kazuha are first, they only eat dinosaur nuggets, carrots and celery. Place the same amount of nuggets on each of their trays they like to eat an even amount along with the same amount of carrots two each and one stalk of celery on both."

You head over to the fridge pulling out the packed baggies with both boys names on them. "Why do they both need to have the same amount of nuggets, carrots and celery?"

"Because they'll assume you're picking a favorite and then they won't eat."

"I thought you'd say something like it starts fights."

"No they don't fight very often but they both hate favoritism. Oh yeah don't forget, Heizou drinks grape juice and Kazuha drinks apple."

"Alright."

"Next is Venti, he likes apple slices leave them out so they're not too cold or else he'll cry about his teeth. For his sandwich he likes it cut into forths peanut butter on top and jelly on the bottom with little marshmallows shaped like stars stuck in the jelly and peanut butter."

"Are you kids raised by rich parents? Why are there so many steps just to make you lunch?" You scoff "And marshmallows? Seriously?"

"Venti really loves sweets." Aether shrugs "When I said on top I meant jelly at the beginning part of the bread spread halfway down then peanut butter below it. Cut the crust off by the way. And make sure the marshmallows are thinly sliced before you put them through the cookie cutter."

"Unbelievable, you know when I was a kid I had a normal peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Sometimes tuna if I was lucky."

"I'm sorry to hear that." You must've turned to him with pure aggravation behind your eyes because he cowers a bit before continuing on. "For Scaramouche, he likes cucumber sandwiches.."

"Oh my God you are all high society kids aren't you!"

"It's really simple!" Aether chuckles "The cucumbers are already peeled and clean all you need to do is put cream cheese, war chester sauce, mayo, garlic powder and onion salt into a bowl-"

"War chester sauce?" You can't stop yourself from snorting. He holds up a bottle for you pointing to the label. "Sure.. war chester." You actually do let out a giggle now.

"I'm ten what do you want from me? Even my mom can't read this word on the first try." You giggle a little harder as you take a bowl from where he'd pulled it off the rack. "All you have to do after that is put the cucumbers on top of the sauce spread and then you're done with the sandwich. But don't cut Scara's sandwich at all."

"Why? Wait why would I ask about having to do less work. Nevermind." You mix as swiftly as possible trying your hardest to mix quickly.

"Scara drinks lemon juice by the way." Aether hands you a bottle without a label and you stare at it.

"Lemonade huh? Wouldn't have picked him as a kid who enjoys that."

"No, not lemonade just lemon juice."

You pause in your stirring to stare at the bottle. "Are you serious? There's no way there isn't a drop of sugar in that thing. Even an adult would hate that."

"I personally believe he enjoys torturing himself. No one knows why though."

"Ugh who's left? Xiao?"

"Mhm Xiao is easy."

"I don't believe you."

"No seriously his dad makes his food the night before all you have to do is heat it up." Aether hands you a plate full of cold food from the fridge then grabs a pan from the rack gesturing for you to place the food in the pan.

"This might sound a bit weird to ask but why're you so eager to help? Is it because you're the oldest?"

Aether kind of smiles heading back to the fridge. "When I was little, like littler my twin sister used to always protect me. I felt kind of useless after a while cause I was always hurt or crying and she always treated me the nicest of anyone ever. Our mom said to me the best way to pay back kindness is to be kinder to everyone else around you. To recieve kindness is to give it back tenfold. So I always help everyone, to pay my sister back for everything she's done for me."

"Aww. That's really really sweet. Your mother raised you well."

"Thank you."

"Wait, you have a twin sister? Then where is she today?"

"Mom has me Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and weekends. While dad has her Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Saturday. Then I go to my dad on Mondays and Tuesdays."

"That sounds very confusing. I'm sorry to hear that."

Aether shakes his head, "Don't worry me and Lumine whittled them down till they agreed to spend holidays together." He turns the stove off. "Someday we might even get them back together."

You put on your best supportive smile. Trying your best to think of literally anything to say to this happy go lucky kid right now. Though your mouth dries and a knot forms in the pit of your stomach but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Ok. Last but not least me."

"Oh." You try to laugh off the information you'd been recently burdened with. "What do you want? Figs flown in from France perhaps?"

"All I really want are mozzarella sticks and tomatoe sauce." He gestures to the fridge and you sigh.

"Truly the easiest child." You say with a loud exhale, tugging him into a tight hug. You softly rub his shoulders.

You felt as though you might've blacked out for a minute because you couldn't believe what you were watching. The entire group of six boys just eating away at their meals. No conversation amongst them at all. Just happy go lucky chomping. Unbelievable.

You'd endured probably the most fear known to man today. Venti had decided to go outside in the rain without a coat and you and Aether had chased him down. Only for him to track mud all throughout the house. Heizou had gotten a paper cut and Scaramouche had disappeared again only to return with the leaning tower of blocks in his hand. Which Venti had promptly knocked out of his hand when he'd ran past him with a toy car almost starting a full out brawl between the two boys.

But for the first time in the last few hours you actually had some peace and quiet. It was almost terrifying. A part of you was happy but all of you was a bit frustrated because you could technically go and do whatever it was you hadn't been able to do the entire day but here you were instead. Watching them eat.

Naptime

"Yeah me, Heizou and Kazuha don't need naps anymore but we normally take them with the others. Just because Scaramouche doesn't sleep if he sees other people doing stuff while he's supposed to be napping."

"Ok then. Nap time everybody!" You call out, clapping your hands.

"Dvalin?" Venti scurries over to his cot, tossing the blanket up in the air before searching beneath the cot as well. "He's not here!"

"Oh no.." Kazuha freezes, Heizou already covering his ears.

"No no! Don't cry Venti, I'm sure he's here somewhere!" Aether says "Wait where's Scara.."

Kazuha rushes to Venti's side, the tears already beginning to fall while you and Aether storm down the hall to look for Scaramouche.

"Scara!" You call

"Scara, come on we don't want to-" Aether pauses, gasping and you stop at the same door he's standing in front of with a loud exclamation.

Tucked between his hands is Venti's dragon Dvalin. One hand tightly wrapped around the dragon's neck while the other is beneath the dragon's torso. You can hear Venti's cries growing steadily louder.

"Scara.. please.. give me the dragon." You nearly beg

"Not one more step, or the dragon gets it."

"Scara why would you do this! You know how much that dragon means to Venti!"

"He ruined my tower!"

"We can all build a new one after nap time as long as you give me the toy."

"Scara.. don't make me call Auntie Nahida." Aether remarked moving closer. At this name you noticed Scara tense and his grip on Dvalin grew weaker. "Give up the Dragon. I just memorized her number too."

With a low throaty growl Scara handed over the toy. Running back into the living room. You and Aether both breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"It's ok right?" You turned the toy over to check the stitching.

"Of course it is. Scara was bluffing."

"How could you tell?"

"He keeps a knife in his pocket. If he wanted to kill Dvalin he would've forever ago."

Geez these kids are just not normal.

After Naptime

You and Aether had gathered with Scara in the first bedroom closest to the living room keeping the door open so you could peak out every once in a while. You had to admit that this was definitely the most fun you'd had with the kids. Scara had pieced together a huge skyscraper one that was almost taller than Aether at this point. And with the help of Aether's extra blocks it'd become truly marvelous.

"How is it fun?" You questioned when he'd added the last block.

"Hm?" Aether asked

"How is it fun to build something this big with the sole intent of smashing it?"

"Eight year old boy stuff." Aether shrugged

"Alright, I finally get to smash it." Scara's foot flies through it first with a happy go lucky grunt of 'yes!' The tower topples and in a matter of seconds the entire structure crumbles to the ground. Each block making a thud as they scattered atop each other.

You tsk, "All our hard work."

"Well what would you do with a block tower savor it forever?" Scaramouche questions crossing his arms.

"Well no.."

"Ah the crazy boy has a point." Aether chuckles collecting some blocks into a pile in front of him. You smirk collecting your own pile in front of you.

"Shut up Aether."

"Hey, what did we talk about on your last time out? You wanna build blocks until you go home you have to be civil."

He simply grunts in reply hanging his head as he starts to gather up as many blocks as he can. The tiny thuds of little footsteps coming your way made all three of you look up. Venti stopped in the doorway Heizou's hand in his. His eyebrows knitted as he looked at the scene before him.

"Um.. pretty caretaker we lost Xiao.."

"What do you mean you lost Xiao?" Aether is up first and you and Scaramouche follow the two boys into the living room.

"Venti had to go to the bathroom so I went with him." Heizou said

"You went with him to the bathroom?" You question

"Venti has issues getting his belt off sometimes." Aether replies, glancing around the room. "Well Kazuha, you were here right?"

"I was looking in my bag for my deck of uno cards. When I looked up he had vanished." Kazuha admitted

"Would he have gone outside?" You rush to the door realizing once you turned the knob that Xiao was far too small to be able to reach it. "Xiao!" You call "He has to still be in the house then." You say to Aether as he rushes past you to check the room next to the front entrance.

"Xiao!" Aether calls as well.

After a while even Scara's checking. Venti and Heizou moving to the kitchen. Heizou checking the oven while Venti checks under the table. Aether heading into the bathroom though quickly finds his search pointless as Venti and Heizou had recently been in there. Kazuha headed over to the toy bin flipping the lid with a small sigh.

"Found him!" Kazuha called

You were the first to make it over there, chest feeling so much lighter. You pulled the tiny boy into your arms holding onto him so tight as though he'd escape again if you let go. After a couple seconds of that he wriggled his way out of your grasp with a grunt sliding to the floor and wrapping around Aether's ankle.

"Well thank goodness he's alive."

"Ah Xiao I left you alone too long. Sorry how about I read you a couple stories yeah?"

Xiao nodded quickly reaching out for Aether's hand. Only to be met with a small chorus of 'awwwww's'

"Aether loves Xiao and Xiao loves Aether!" The boys all chanted in unison laughing and giggling amongst themselves. You can't help but stifle a small laugh yourself when you see how red Aether's face grows. His head falling, bangs flopping against his nose and cheeks.

Aether straightens for just a moment, "I don't love Xiao! I just care about him! Unlike you guys who lost him!" With a huff he grabs Xiao's hand. "Come on Xiao." And you watch them settle into the chair in the farthest corner of the room. Xiao tucked into Aether's lap as he began reading Xiao's book aloud for him.

☆☆☆

The last you'd seen of Venti he'd been happily pushing along a shopping cart of pretend groceries with Heizou and Kazuha playing shop keeper for him. Meanwhile you'd bunkered down with Scaramouche to finish yet another block tower.

"I want you to do the honors this time." Scara said placing the last block before scampering away from the slightly uneven tower.

"What really? Isn't that your favorite thing?"

"You don't appreciate how fun it is to build a tower just to smash it. But you will once you experience it for yourself."

You laugh softly, "Promise you won't use your knife on me if I do?"

"Just smash the thing." You put a hand out to push it over but Scara stops you. "What're you doing? You have to kick it over!" He stands and demonstrates with one leg out, "Kick it."

You shake your head but do as he says standing up to smash the tower with your foot. The tower collapses in a heap and Scara cheers the first bright non cheeky smile of the day stretching across his face.

"Now do you see?" He asks as he collects the blocks.

"That was surprisingly fun. Thanks Scara."

He rolls his eyes, "No need to thank me. Next time you should just trust me."

You sigh turning your attention to the door as Venti, Kazuha and Heizou enter. "Venti, wanted you to have this." Heizou says

Venti quickly unveils a messily colored picture. Most of the colors went outside the lines but over all you could tell the picture was from a coloring book. The colors all reminding you of Venti's stuffed dragon.

"Awww. It's beautiful Venti!"

"I wanted to thank you, for saving Dvalin earlier." Scara scoffs beside you and Venti just pouts sticking his tongue out at him.

"I'll treasure it thank you guys so much."

"Are you planning on coming back?"

"Back here?" You ask "This was really only for the day guys."

"But we really like you!" Venti practically yells, sucking his thumb into his mouth.

"We would all be happy if you came back again." Heizou nods

"Ewen Scawa!" Venti snickers over the thumb in his mouth.

The boys chuckle as Scara moves to shove his face into a nearby chair. "Shut up!" He huffs "I will not!"

"Aw Scara. It's ok. I will try to come back at some point. I've grown to like you guys too."

"Really?! Yay!" Venti giggles, bouncing around in a circle.

Aether suddenly appeared behind Kazuha, Xiao tugged into his arms as he went. "Someone's at the door, Name."

"Noooo, I don't want to go home yet!" Venti whined, hugging onto your pant leg.

"I don't think it's our parents." Aether said "It sounded like keys."

"She's back!" Heizou was the first one out followed by Kazuha, Venti, Aether and Xiao. You rushed out behind them and they immediately crowded your mother's legs. All calling out different things.

"Phew! I missed you kids too!" You sighed watching them happily jump around. Their smiles soft and delighted. "Did you kids have fun with Name?"

"Yes!" They all called excitedly

"When will name be back?" Kazuha asked

"Yeah we love Name." Venti piped in

"Love is a strong word." Scaramouche interjected

"Well, whenever you'd like to come see the kids. Since they enjoyed having you."

"Yay!" Everyone except Xiao and Scaramouche cheered

Closing time

You'd stayed until the very end. Until the last parent came to collect their child. You found yourself a little floored by how much Zhongli talked in comparison to his son Xiao that is until you met his wife. Very soft spoken, quiet woman.

"Bye." Xiao had murmured the first word he'd spoken the entire day. Or at least that you'd heard yourself. You barely registered his tiny voice at all. Almost thought you'd misheard.

"Come back soon pretty caretaker! Goodbye! I miss you already!" His mother's smile was soft but Venti was beaming as he waved and blew you kisses.

You were actually expecting Scaramouche to leave without saying goodbye so when he gave your leg a quick hug you were more than shocked. His mom was even more surprising or well moms one of whom didn't talk to either you or your mom. Too busy on the cellphone. His first mom had called for him pretty loudly and without another word he'd fleed.

Heizou and Kazuha hugged you super tight on each side. And with a "Come back soon." They each waved and headed off with their mothers.

"Hey." Aether smiled at you as his mom peaked in through the entrance. You leaned down to give him a tight hug shaking him back and forth as you did. "Never stop being a sweetheart ok? Look after the boys and your sister until I see you again."

"I promise." He headed to the door but flipped around one last time just for one final goodbye hug. "Today was super fun."

"Bye kiddo. Thanks for the help today." You waved and he waved as well his mother taking his hand and with him they left.

"Already attached to the boys? They'll do that to you they're the sweetest." You turn to look at her with a raised eyebrow, "Yes even Scarmouche. Once he gets comfortable he'll be even nicer to you."

"I'd love to see that." You scoff

"Well, anytime you're free." She shrugs with a smile.

#6reeze x reader #genshin impact headcanons #oh.. this technically isn't ex reader that's a new one #genshin drabbles #genshin fanfic #aether headcanons #xiao headcanons #venti headcanons #kazuha headcanons #heizou headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #btw I don't ship eimiko I just had Scara with two moms just cause

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dreamcatcher2113 · 1 year

Text

The Dragon Dance

Summary: What if Rhaenyra had another child? What if Rhaenyra had a daughter with white hair and purple eyes? What if she was betrothed to Aemond as an alliance with Greens?

You are the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, unlike your brothers you have white hair and purple eyes. You are the twin sister of Jacaerys. You were close with Aemond when you were kids, you two attached to the hip. Ten years later after your family left to Dragonstone, your family reunites with the Greens. You see a familiar face, Aemond Targaryen. Even though it's been years since you last saw him, let's just say you are not the same little girl you were once before.

Warnings: The reader and Jacaerys are aged up, they would be eighteen. Uncle/niece insect. 18+ smut(eventually). Language. Mentions of assault(mainly from Aegon). Violence. And possible other warnings that I can’t think of. There is a happy ending.

Part 19

Masterlist

_____________________________________

The Dragon Dance Part 20:

It’s been two moons, you and Aemond were living happily. You spend your days with your family. Sadly you haven’t been training like you used to, because for some reason you’ve been feeling ill. Some certain smells of food makes your stomach turn, you also noticed that your dresses don’t fit right anymore. Since you have been ill, Aemond has forbidden you to sword train; usually you would fight with him about it, but you’ve been so sick that you didn’t have the energy. Lucky for you that you were well enough to have lunch with your mother, Alicent, and Helaena. It’s been awhile since it was just you ladies. All four of you decided to have lunch in the chambers. Once the food was set on your guys tables, the smell of the meat started to make your stomach turn.

You hold your mouth, trying to keep yourself from throwing up. Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Helaena noticed your action and started to become worried. Rhaenyra immediately asked the servants to take the plate away from.

“Daughter, are you alright? I thought you were feeling better.” Rhaenyra worries about your health.

Once the plate was away from you, you felt your stomach settling. “Don’t worry mother, I am feeling better. I just think I am still sensitive to certain smells.” You give your mother an assuring smile.

“You’ve been throwing up a lot lately. Are you sure you’re feeling alright Y/N?” Helaena asked.

“I’m positive that I am better. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, and I really doubt Aemond would get out of bed if I was still sick.” You answered with a chuckle.

“Has Aemond taken good care of you sweetheart?” Alicent asked.

You nodded your head yes, and smiled. “He has Alicent, he’s been taking really good care of me. You raised him well.”

“You flutter me Princess.” Alicent smiled.

“Is there anything you would like to eat my dear? You must be hungry by now?” Rhaenyra asked.

“Something with apples sounds nice, if you would please mother.” You said.

“Apples?” Helaena asked.

“Yes. I’ve been craving them for a while.” You answered.

Rhaenyra questioned for a bit, but let it go. “Then apples you should have.” She smiled at you, calling for one of the servants for one of the cooks to make you something with apples.

Alicent noticed your appearance had changed, it wasn’t a big change in your appearance. However something about you seemed different to her. It seemed like you were glowing.

“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking. Have you changed oils or changed anything recently?” Alicent asked.

You took a moment to think about it, you didn’t really change anything. You used the same oils that you have always used. “I have not, I’ve been using the same things that I have always used. Why?” You asked.

“You just seemed to have a glow to you.” Alicent answered, staring very hard. She knows something has changed with you, it’s the tip of her tongue, she just can’t figure out what it is though.

“That reminds me. Mother, can you give me permission to go into town?” You asked.

Rhaenyra quirks her eyebrow in confusion. “For what for my daughter?”

“Lately my dresses haven’t been fitting me lately. It’s getting tougher to lace up the dress.” You answered.

Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Helaena all looked at each other and looked at you. “Y/N, have you noticed something different about you lately?” Helaena asked.

You started to blush a little bit. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to tell all of you.”

“It’s alright sweet girl, we are all women here. You can tell us.” Rhaenyra reassuring you.

You take a deep breath. “Lately I’ve been having urges for my husband.”

“That’s normal dear.” Alicent said.

“I know. It’s just, they’ve been-” You paused for a moment.” -intense. Like really, really intense.”

“That’s interesting.” Helaena added.

Alicent and Rhaenyra and Helaena looked at each other with big smiles, you looked at them confused. Having no idea what they are silently saying to each other. They all turned back to you and Rhaenyra asked. “Y/N, when’s the last time you bled?”

“Well it's been….I honestly don’t remember.” You answered. You took a moment to think about it. The last time you could remember was before the wedding. Then everything started to click for you. You’ve been getting morning sickness, you’ve been craving apples, your dresses don’t fit, you even have been having intense urges for Aemond, and it’s been two moons since the last time you bled. You put your hand on your stomach and noticed a small bump. You looked at Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Helaena with a big smile on your face.

“Alicent call the maesters.” Rhaenyra said with excitement and with a big smile on her face.

“I’m already on it.” Alicent said with excitement, rushing out of the room to get a servant.

You and Helaena looked at each other with smiles on your faces, holding your stomach. Hoping that you were right with what you four are guessing.

Meanwhile with Aemond

Aemond, Luce and Aegon were training at the training grounds. Well more like Aemond and Luce were training while Aegon was just watching them, and eating an apple. Aemond and Luce were training with swords, and Aemond was instructing Luce what to do. Luce has noticed Aemond’s worry with you, he wasn’t going to lie he was worried about you two. He thought training would help distract Aemond for a bit.

“Are you actually going to train with us brother, or are you going to sit there and do nothing?” Aemond asked, glaring at Aegon.

Aegon took a moment to think. “Nope, I’m good. I would rather watch you two swing swords at each other.” He grinned.

Luce and Aemond rolled their eyes at Aegon, not surprised that he wants to be lazy. They continued their training.

“I’ve been meaning to ask uncle. How is my sister feeling? I haven’t seen her at the training grounds.” Luce asked.

“I think she is feeling better. There are some certain foods that make her fall ill.” Aemond answered. He is really worried about you, he was debating on having you have lunch with your mother, his sister and his mother. You promised him you were feeling better, he couldn’t help but to feel worried about you.

“Did she catch something brother?” Aegon asked.

Aemond shook his no. “No, we don’t think so. She has been craving apples lately.”

“Apples? That’s not unusual for her, but it’s a little odd.” Luce added, Aemond nodded his head in agreement.

“I’ve noticed something about her brother.” Aegon said.

Aemond and Luce stopped their training, and started glaring at Aegon. “Be careful what you say Aegon. That is my wife you are going to be talking about, and his sister.” Aemond warned, and pointed at Luce. While Luce is still glaring at Aegon, clenching his sword.

Aegon puts his hands up in a surrender. “I’m not going to say anything bad about her. That is an easy death wish, and that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean Aegon?” Luce asked.

“I mean, she has a glow to her.” Aegon answered.

Aemond raised his eyebrow in confusion. He has heard Aegon say the craziest things, but this is really random. “A glow?” Aemond asked.

“Yes, a glow. Have you not noticed?” Aegon asked.

Aemond thought about it for a second. Now that he thinks about it, you have been glowing lately. He thought it was just him being memorized by you, he didn’t think anyone else noticed and thought it was just him being in love with his wife.

“Has anything changed between the two of you?” Luce asked.

Aemond shook his head no, but then thought about it. “Well. I guess something has changed.”

“Like what?” Aegon asked.

“I don’t think I should say because you’re here and Y/N is still Luce’s sister.” Aemond answered.

“Please uncle. Maybe we could help her.” Luce pleaded.

Aemond really didn’t want to corrupt Luce, nor did he want to traumatize the poor boy. “Lately Y/N has been having…..urges.” Aemond answered, trying to keep as innocent as possible for Luce.

Aegon however understood immediately knew what Aemond meant, and started chuckling like a hyena. Aemond glared at him, giving Aegon a warning look to shut up. Aegon slowly stopped laughing, whipping the tears that were forming from his eyes. Luce was still confused about what Aemond meant.

“I’m sorry uncle, what do you mean by urges?” Luce asked innocently. Which made Aegon laugh harder, and Aemond face palming. Aemond really didn’t want to explain it to Luce.

“Well. It means-. It means-.” Aemond trying to say the best way possible without ruining Luce’s innocence, and having you kill him for ruining Luce’s innocence.

“It means Y/N has been wanting to fuck Aemond like her life depends on it.” Aegon answered instead, still laughing his ass off.

“Aegon!” Aemond yelled. So much trying to keep Luce’s innocence

Luce’s eye bulged out his eye socket. “Why would you tell me that?!?” He asked. “That is my sister!! I don’t need to know that!”

“You asked.” Aegon said, coming down from laughing too hard.

Aemond sighs in disappointment, and turns to Luce. “That’s the only thing that has changed. Other than that, nothing else.” Luce is still trying to recover what has been told to him.

Aegon started to think a bit, then he remembered something like this happened with Helaena. He feels like he is going to get killed by his brother and his nephew from the question he is going to ask.

“Aemond. When was the last time Y/N bled?” Aegon asked, knowing he is going to die.

Aemond and Luce looked like they were going to kill Aegon. “What in Seven’s Hells do you think you can ask that question uncle?!?” Luce yelled.

“Why are you asking about my wife’s bled cycle brother?!? Do you wish to die?” Aemond hissed. Yep Aegon was going to die today.

“Before you two kill me, I have a theory. I need you to answer the question to confirm it.” Aegon explained.

Aemond gives his brother a questionable look. “I don’t know.” He answered.

Aegon looks at Aemond with disappointment. “What do you mean, you don’t know?” He asked.

“I mean I don’t know. How am I supposed to know that about my wife?” Aemond asked.

“Because you share the same bed with her genius.” Aegon said.

“Well I don’t know because I am not a woman. I don’t know their bled cycle and when it starts.” Aemond getting annoyed with Aegon, and not understanding why you bled cycle is important.

“Okay how about this. Has she bled since your wedding night?” Aegon asked.

Aemond took a moment to think about it, he started to realize that you haven’t bled since the wedding. Which was two moons ago. “No she hasn’t. Why is this important, Aegon?” He asked.

“Yeah Aegon, I feel like you are disrespecting my sister with that question.” Luce glaring at Aegon.

“I promise you two I’m not. Do you two seriously don’t know what is going on with Y/N?” Aegon asked in disbelief that his brother and Luce did not know what’s going on with you. Aemond and Luce look at each other and back at Aegon still confused about what Aegon is getting at.

Aegon sighs in disbelief. “Are you two kidding me right now? The both of you are supposed to be smarter than me. I was drunk the majority of the time, and I remember the symptoms. And that is saying something.”

“Get on with it, Aegon.” Aemond said in annoyance.

“Think about it. Y/N started getting sick from certain foods, craving apples, she’s been glowing, she has been jumping your bones every chance she gets and to top it off she hasn’t bleed in two moons.” Aegon pointed out.

Aemond and Luce took a moment and realized what Aegon was getting at. They both looked at each other with wide eyes. Could you be? Are you really? Not saying anything Luce, Aemond, and Aegon started to leave the training grounds and started to walk into the castle. They ran into a servant, telling them to meet you, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Helaena and Daemon at the family room. Not a second later, they all dashed to the family room. Could you be?

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