#I was gonna put him instead of the mother but I wasn’t sure

[rosipuree]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #rosipuree

[sttoru]

toji making suggestive comments towards reader infront of newborn megumi, then reader getting mad at him telling him to never do it again 😭😭

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff + suggestive themes. reader gets called ‘mama’.

“don’t start.”

you knew it — just by taking one glance at your husband from your seat at the couch — you knew toji was up to no good. his hands in the pockets of his shorts, eyes half lidded whilst checking you out and the corner of his lip curled up into a menacing grin; he was seconds away from making inappropriate comments about you, to you.

“ain’t said nothin’ yet.” toji shrugs, smirk still in place. he sits down next to you on the couch and looks down at the baby who was curled up on your chest.

it was an adorable picture; to see the mother of his child being so nurturing and caring, so loving and content. it was an every day sight, yet those mundane moments intensified the urge to take you to the bedroom and shower you with his. . . affection.

megumi babbles something in the meantime, his saliva creating a wet spot on your shirt — which you don’t mind since you’ve gotten used to it, “what is it, ‘gumi? hmm? cutie.”

you giggle and tickle your little son gently. your focus was entirely on him instead of toji, who had already snuck an arm around your waist by the time you realised the proximity. his breath tickled your ear;

“you look so fuckin’ sexy right now, mama.”

you gasp in response. not at the seductive and flirtatious words your husband had whispered, but rather at the fact that he cussed in front of megumi. you made it a household rule — to try and swear less in front of your child. and yet there toji goes, breaking that rule a week after its made.

“toji. what’d i say about cussing in front of your child?” you warn with a glare, but that does nothing more than turn toji on more. he loved it when you bossed him around or had an attitude.

megumi’s babbles and coos had died down eventually. he was more engrossed by the way his parents were interacting in front of him. you didn’t seem as ‘happy’ with toji’s words, however, and that made the emergency alarms in the little baby’s head go off;

“bwah! bwah!” megumi’s smacks toji’s thigh with his tiny hand. the impact wasn’t rough, but the sound of the slap on toji’s bare skin sure made it seem like it was.

you grin as megumi comes to your ‘rescue’. the small slaps didn’t seem to stop until toji gave up and defeatedly redrew from you—scooting just a few inches away from his son and wife.

“got what you deserved.” you lightheartedly comment to your husband. megumi didn’t seem to stop there; the kid sticks his tongue out towards his father’s direction for a split second—rubbing salt into the wound.

“watch it, megumi. i’ll fight ya if it means i get y’r mommy’s attention.” the dark-haired man jokes with a smirk tugging at his lips, his fist gently and carefully making contact with megumi’s chubby cheek. the little boy huffs and instantly tries to nibble onto toji’s knuckles, which was incredibly adorable.

“oh-ho? seems like i finally have an opponent worth fighting. .” toji comments before lifting his hands up in the air, fingers bent at the knuckles, teeth bared — re-enacting a scary monster creature of some kind,

you watch the two with amusement; megumi wasn’t backing down at all and was flailing his arms in the air as toji slowly approaches him again, making tiny noises in protest. your husband was also making some noises, though less. . . cute. his were more growling like—it showed the dedication to his role, at least.

“got’cha! c’mere,” toji grins as he suddenly grabs and lifts megumi up in the air; putting him in air-jail as he likes to call it. the baby kicks and squeals, trying its best to get out, “now—are ya gonna let me show mama some affection or should we do this the hard way?”

megumi protests once more like he actually knows what was said to him and kicks his legs frantically, causing both toji and you to laugh at your baby’s antics.

you sat back and watch the two go back and forth like that for a good while, enjoying the moment. you felt all giddy seeing them interact and wanted nothing more than to kiss and cuddle with both.

and of course, you wished that precious moments like these would never come to an end any tjme soon.

#ෆ : parenting 101. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #toji x you #jjk x you #jjk fluff #toji fluff

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mgg fluff #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[theemporium]

Ahhh🧸🧸🧸 lando with his teen daughter who got drink for the first time? Maybe she snuck out when she wasn’t meant to but instead of being mad he’s just sweet and taking care of her and glad nothing happened to her🥹 maybe a lil snarky bc he’s lando

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“And where have you been all night, missy?”

Lando pressed his lips together when he watched his daughter freeze at the bottom of the steps and despite her back being to him, he could envision the look on her face so clearly. He knew exactly where she was. He knew exactly what she had done. But it was still sweet that she thought she was being subtle with the whole thing.

He knew the second you said no to your daughter about a party she wanted to attend, that she was going to disobey anyways. He saw the glint in her eyes, the same glint of mischief he recognised on his own. He knew she would be sneaking out. And maybe he should have prevented it, but he would’ve rather his daughter rebel when he was aware rather than do something worse when he wasn’t around.

He stayed awake, keeping an eye on her location (which she had stupidly forgotten to turn off) and made sure he was prepared to jump in the car if something happened. Eva was a daddy’s girl through and through, and he knew he would be the first person she would call if something happened.

Thankfully, nothing had happened except for the door she accidentally slammed on her way into the house.

“Uh,” Eva cleared her throat, gripping onto the bannister as she started to sway. “Midnight walk?”

“At four in the morning?” Lando countered.

“Midnight walks are about the vibe, not the time,” Eva said, her back still to Lando.

“And did you happen to encounter any alcohol on this walk?” Lando asked, watching the way her whole body tensed before she turned around, an innocent smile on her face.

“Don’t be silly, dad,” she scoffed, only to let out a little hiccup before she could finish her sentence. 

He gave her a soft smile. “C’mon, champ, let’s get you sobered up and in bed before you throw up on the carpet. Your mum will kick off if she wakes up to vomit stains, trust me.”

Eva opened her mouth to disagree, to wave her father off and insist she wasn’t drunk and that she was perfectly fine. But then she was stumbling and Lando was rushing towards her, and her limbs just felt so heavy from the walk between the taxi and the front door and she couldn’t be bothered hiding it anymore. 

“M’sorry,” she muttered, the words muffled as she rested her head on her father’s chest.

“It’s fine, honey,” Lando assured her as he wound one arm around her back and the other behind her knees, swooping her up in his arms as he began to head upstairs. “You’re a teenager. It’s what you crazy kids do.”

“Are you mad?” Her voice was so small, so scared. He hated it.

“Never, Eva-Bunny,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. “Just wanna know you’re safe. That’s all me and your mother want.”

“I know,” she sighed, nuzzling her face against the soft fabric of the hoodie he was wearing. “M’sorry for lying.”

“It’s not me you have to apologise to,” he said as he gently pushed her bedroom door open with his foot. “You’re gonna have a killer headache as your punishment in the morning.”

Eva let out a whine. “I don’t want it.”

Lando snorted. “You don’t get a choice, honey.” He placed her down on the bed, lying her head on the pillow before he moved to grab some clothes she could change into while he went down to get her some water and painkillers. “If you’re lucky, your mum will make her infamous hangover cure. Use the puppy dog eyes, she could never say no to those.”

Eva gave him a sleepy smile. “Think you can do something to piss her off so she isn’t too mad at me in the morning?” 

“And put myself in the line of fire?” Lando retorted before giving her a matching smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, Eva-Bunny.”

.

#cece's slumblurb party #lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[americasass91]

Use Me

Hello there! I know I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. And literally haven’t written anything in like 8 months. I’ve been going through a shit ton. (Divorce, job change, all kinds of fun stuff) And I really lost my spark to write. And then the Fnaf movie came out. And seeing Josh Hutcherson on screen again lit a fire inside of me! That boy was my original crush (long before Evans). Peeta Mellark will forever have a piece of my heart. That being said, here’s a little something starring Mike Schmidt! I know, I know. It’s not a Chris Evans character? What’s wrong with me? Josh is fucking pretty. That’s what’s wrong with me. Like, I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Chris is pretty and hope the best for him. But…he’s not been my muse lately. I said a long time ago that I wanted Josh to fuck me like a screen door in a hurricane. And it apparently still holds true today! So, I hope you enjoy it even though this is not a part of your regularly scheduled programming! Also, this takes place after the events of FNAF. Also, Also. Not sure if the people on my Taglist for Chris’ characters want to be tagged in Josh’s. If so, just let me know!

*DISCLAIMER*, If you’re under 18, this is nothing for you to be reading. Go away.

Words: 3.3k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, p in v smut, oral(f rec), unprotected sex, language, Mike being good, um I think that’s it

💙💙💙💙💙 

“Listen Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stay and work the next shift.”

You turn around and look at your manager as if she had suddenly grown 3 heads. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you needed me to stay and work the next 8 hour shift.”

She rolls her eyes as she goes back to charting the current patient she’s working on. “You know that’s exactly what I said. Look, I have no other options. Hannah called off.”

“Again? This is like the third day in a row! How is that fair exactly?” You put your patient’s paperwork down and cross your arms over your chest as you stare at her expectantly.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you as she answers. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. She says she’s sick. I can’t have her come in if she’s sick.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “If by sick you mean hungover! She literally posted on Instagram last night about her night out on the town!”

She glances over at you. “There’s no way to prove if that was from last night or if it's older. Now just get back to work and I’ll let you have an hour and a half break instead of an hour.”

Now you’re pissed. “Yeah, see, that's not going to work for me. I’ve already been here for 16 hours because Kim was late. I’m not working Hannah’s whole ass shift. I have plans. I finally get to see my boyfriend after weeks because our schedules weren’t lining up. I’m not staying.”

“You really don’t have a choice. I wasn’t really asking you, I was telling you. There’s no one else to cover.”

Tears started welling up in your eyes out of frustration, exhaustion, and the possibility of not being able to see Mike again. “There’s a bunch of other people that can cover! What about you? You’ve only been here 8 hours. It would make more sense for you to stay.” 

She turns in her chair to look at you now. “Y/N, I have actual plans. My husband has a work party. And the rest of us have husbands and children to attend to. Not just ‘hanging out with my boyfriend.’

Now you’re seeing red. “So what you’re saying is because I’m the only nurse on this floor not married, I get the shitty end of the deal and have to cover when other people call off?”

“No. If you had legit plans then I’d be more sympathetic. But you haven’t even been with this boy that long. You don’t need to spend every free moment with him.”

“I’m sorry but who do you think you are? My mother? Because I’m a grown ass woman. And if I want to hang with my boyfriend on my time off then I’m going to! I don’t really need your approval for it. I’m not staying.”

You grab your Stanley and start heading towards the locker room to grab your stuff. 

“Y/N! If you don’t stay, then you can forget about this job.”

You turn around just before reaching the end of the hallway. “Well, then I guess you’re going to have to stick around and cover Hannah’s shift. Stick it up your ass, Jan. I quit.”

You don’t even stay to hear what she has to say. You quickly run to your locker and grab all of your stuff out before you start to cry. You can’t believe you just quit. And it’s not just because of your boyfriend. You haven’t been treated right since the first week you started. This was just the last straw. You just hope Mike won’t be disappointed in you.

💙💙💙💙💙

After a quick shower and outfit change at home, you reluctantly find yourself pulling into Mike’s driveway and getting out of the car. You haven’t gotten to see him in about 3 weeks and you know you look like shit from not only your long ass shift but also because you cried on the way over.

You head to the front door and open it up. He always leaves the door unlocked when he knows you’re coming over, and get hit with the aroma of pasta. Mike’s cooking you dinner. That makes you want to start crying all over again. He’s the sweetest.

“Babe? Is that you?” You hear him call from the back of the house. He quickly comes towards the front and sees you. His smile falters when he sees the state you’re in. “Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He quickly wraps you up in a hug. 

You try your best to keep it together but a few tears fall. “I quit today.”

He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arms around you. “You did? Babe, that’s fantastic!” He pulls you back in for another hug and picks you up to twirl you around.

Your mood instantly lifts and you can’t help but laugh. “It is?”

He sets you down and pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Of course it is! That place was treating you like shit! And Jan was a bitch! What finally made you do it?”

He lets go of all but your hand and leads you into the kitchen so he can continue making spaghetti. He sets you down at the table and pours you a nice big glass of wine he bought just for tonight. “I want to hear all about it.”

He goes back to the stove and continues making dinner while you rehash the last 16 hours.

He turns around with the sauce spoon in his hand and his other on his hip. “Hannah called off again? Jesus, how does she still have a job? Didn’t she do this to you last year during Christmas?”

Oh, shit. You had forgotten about that. She did do this last year! You had plans to fly home and see your family for the holidays when Hannah unexpectedly came down with ‘the flu’. Jan had called and needed you to work since nobody else could cover. You felt like since you were still new at the time that you couldn’t say no. Now you’re getting pissy all over again. 

“Oh my god! You’re right! Maybe the bitch has some vendetta out against me. I’ve never done anything to her though! I’ve been nothing but nice!”

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a text. You quickly check it. It’s from Hannah.

I can’t believe you threw a tantrum and quit just because I wasn’t feeling my best and couldn’t come in. Wow. All so you can hang out with your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend. You sure have your priorities straight.

“Fucking cunt!” You yell as you throw your phone across the table. Then immediately you slap your hands over your mouth just as Mike turns around to see what you’re yelling about.

“What’s wrong? Who was it?”

You remove your hands from your mouth. “Mike, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to curse that loud. I hope Abby didn’t hear me.”

He waves you off. “Babe, she’s not even here. She got invited to a sleepover at Natalie’s house. We’re alone. You’re good.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god! I don’t want any of my bad habits to rub off on her.”

Mike just chuckles and turns back to the sauce. “If she turns out anything like you, I’d be entirely okay with that.”

You can’t help but feel a blush creep up your neck. He was always saying sweet stuff like that. You get up and hug him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re too sweet.”

He turns around in your arms and grabs your face and gives you a proper, toe-curling kiss. “I mean it.”

After a few more shared kisses, Mike finishes up dinner and fixes you both a plate and a glass of wine for himself. As you’re sitting there twirling your spaghetti around your fork, you can’t help but think about Hannah’s text again. And then all of the little snide remarks she’s ever made to you come flooding back.

“Babe?”

You snap out of your thoughts and Mike comes back into focus. “Yeah?”

He puts his fork down. “I asked if there was something wrong with the spaghetti? You’ve hardly touched it.”

You look down at your plate and realize you’ve just been twirling it around your fork. “No, it’s fine. Just thinking about what Hannah said and how much it pisses me off. I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to ruin our time together.”

He smiles and grabs both of your plates and gets up and places them on the counter. He comes back over and holds his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You grab his hand with no hesitation and let him pull you out of your chair and let him lead you to his bedroom.

He turns around to face you right before you get to his bed. “First of all, you could never ruin our time together. I love getting to spend time with you no matter what. Second of all, it sounds like you need to let out some anger and need a distraction.”

You can’t help but feel all tingly at the smirk he’s giving you. “What did you have in mind?”

He backs up a little and sits on the bed and looks up at you. “Use me, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “What? What do you mean?”

He reaches out to grab your hands to pull you towards him. “I mean use me. Use me to distract yourself and to take your anger out on. I’ll be a good boy and do whatever you need.”

That almost had your knees buckling. “Oh.” He lifts your shirt up and starts pressing kisses along your stomach while running his hands from your back to your hips and down to your ass. You’ve never been in this position before. Sure, you guys have only been together for like 5 months but anytime you’ve ever been intimate, he’s been the one who’s taken charge.

He pulls back and looks up at you. “Use me, baby. I got you. Tell me what you need.”

You decide to run with it and take control and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I wanna sit on your face.”

He lets out a little whimper as he moves back on the bed. “Fuck, baby. Please sit on my face. I want you to suffocate me.”

He lays back and patiently waits for you to remove your pants and panties. You hesitantly climb up on the bed. You’ve never done this before with anyone but have always wanted to try it. You climb up until you’re straddling his waist and lean down to kiss him. 

He returns the kiss enthusiastically and grinds you down onto him so you can feel how hard he already is for you. It makes you let out a small moan into his mouth. The making out only lasts for a few more minutes before you pull away and start climbing up until you’re hovering right above his mouth.

Before you fully lower yourself onto him you grab his hair and yank so that he has to look at you. He lets out another beautiful whimper. “I’m going to ride your face until I can’t think of anything else but your tongue. You’re going to be good and make me cum as many times as I want, right?”

He nods instantly. “Yes, I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“Good boy.” You tell him, which makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. Hmm. Who knew he had a praise kink?

You let go of his hair and grab onto the headboard with both hands before you slowly lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. 

He immediately grips your thighs and pulls you even harder on him and starts eating you out like a man starved. “Oh, fuck!” You throw your head back and start grinding on his tongue. He gives you a few more licks before he sucks your clit into his mouth and starts lapping his tongue back and forth against it. “Oh, god. Fuck, Mike! You’re so fucking good at that.”

Your praise has him moaning and whimpering into your pussy, heightening the experience that much more. He moves his right hand towards your ass and gives it a nice squeeze before moving towards your pussy and immediately inserting two fingers.  It makes you start grinding faster, feeling yourself already close to the edge.

He starts pumping his fingers in time with your grinding, pushing you even closer to the edge. You can’t believe how quickly he got you there. 

“Mike, please! Gonna cum! Make me cum.”

He pumps his fingers even faster and lightly bites down on your clit, knowing it’ll make you fall over the edge.

You scream his name out and grind on him until it’s too much and you lift yourself away from his mouth. To which he whimpers out, “where’s that pussy going? I wasn’t done yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Jesus. I almost passed out from how hard I came. Give me a minute.”

“So I did good?” He looks up at you with big eyes and his chin glistening with your juices.

You pat his hair. “You did so good, baby. Made me feel so good.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around your thighs and presses soft kisses to the inside of them. You close your eyes and take a minute to enjoy that before you look behind you and see his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. You need that inside of you. Right now.

You remove yourself from his face and he lets out a little whine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done. Need your cock, baby.”

You’ve never seen him undo his belt and slide his jeans down that quickly before. It almost makes you chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

He nods as he pushes his jeans down far enough that his cock springs free and hits your ass. “Need to feel you around me, babe. Please.”

You lean down and pull him into a kiss which he returns generously. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He grabs his cock and hits it against your ass, signaling that he’s ready for you to slide onto him. You take the hint and lift up and back until he catches at your entrance. He’s the first one to break the kiss as you slowly slide down onto him. The little whimpers he lets out as you sit flush against his thighs is music to your ears.

You decide to tease him and just stay resting there for a minute while looking down at him. He has his eyes clenched shut and a death grip on your hips. He opens his eyes after a few moments and looks up at you. He reaches his right hand up and places it on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Go ahead and use me babe. Take what you need from me.”

You slowly start moving your hips back and forth, never really lifting them up and down. The friction against your clit is so delicious. You place both hands on his chest and start moving your hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so deep.” 

“Yeah? Am I making my girl feel good?”

You smirk down at him. “Oh, yeah. You’re being so good for me.”

He lets out another whimper as he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a heated kiss. This one sloppy and desperate. His hand that’s still on your hip starts moving you a little harder against him. He pulls away from your mouth and kisses his way up your neck towards your ear. “Come on babe. Cum on my cock. I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me so I can be good and cum for you.”

This time you’re the one letting out a whimper. “Yeah? Want me to be your good boy and cum for you? Fill you up?”

“Please.” You whine out, moving your hips even faster than before. You can feel your orgasm coming like a freight train. There’s no stopping it. 

“Oh yeah. I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me. Do it. Make a mess on me babe. Please, I need it.”

“Yeah? You need me to cum for you? Need to feel me cum? Oh, god Mike. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”

He continues helping you grind your hips against his. You’re almost there. Just a little something…..

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

That did it. You’re pitched off the edge and silently scream out. The edges of your vision going white. You can vaguely hear Mike whimpering out your name as he does as promised and fills you up. You slow your hips down until you can’t move them anymore and slump down against him with your face tucking into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs his hands up and down your back.

You both stay like that until your heartbeats return to normal. You lift up your head just until you can see him, almost nose to nose. He’s the first to speak. “So, did I do good for you?”

You let out a chuckle. “You were so good, baby.” You can feel him twitch inside of you at the praise. “But, we need to talk about what you said.”

Mike scrunches his brows for a few minutes before his eyes go wide and he realizes what he said. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”

You can’t help the disappointment that crosses your face. “Oh, well that’s okay. It was in the heat of the moment.”

He quickly wraps his arms tighter around you. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit. I one hundred percent meant it. I just wanted to make it special when I told you. Not in the middle of an orgasm. You deserve better than that.”

You smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I appreciate the thought. But I really don’t need anything special. I already have you.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “I love you, Y/N.”

This time you press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too Mike. Like, a lot.”

“I bet not as much as I love you.”

Just as you’re about to retort, Mike’s cell starts vibrating, causing you to jolt with fright since his phone is still in his pocket which your leg is pressed up against.

“Jesus Christ.”

You quickly get up so that he can grab his phone. “Hello?”

You go into the bathroom to clean up. You come back in with a wet cloth to clean Mike up. He just hangs up as you come in the room. “Everything okay?”

He smiles in thanks as you hand him the cloth. He goes about cleaning himself up. “Yeah. That was Natalie’s mom. Apparently Abby has decided she doesn’t wanna stay the night so I have to go get her.” He stands and pulls his jeans back up and smooths his shirt out. “Sorry we won’t be alone anymore.”

You pull him in for a quick kiss. “Nothing to apologize for. I love you Mike. And that means loving all of you. Which includes Abby. Whom you know I just adore. Go get her and we’ll have a movie night or something.”

He shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You just smile in return. “After the past year you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy.”

He chuckles as he heads out the door. “Ain’t that the damn truth!”

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut #fnaf #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #michael schmidt #five nights at freddy's

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ ['CUZ YOU'RE A NATURAL] ❞ — a in this house of mine prequel ; MDNI!

pairing: aaron hotchner x rossi!reader. summary: not having a crush on your dad's friend and co-worker should be rule number one. but what are rules when said friend is aaron hotchner? content warnings: this is suggestive at best. foul language? still let's go with MDNI! age-gap flirting. word count: 1k. a/n: might do a pt.2, i just needed to get this out of my brain.

he’s just pretending not to notice it at this point, which isn’t easy coming from a person who notices everything. coming from the man who helped build the unit that literally analyzes people for a living. 

granted he wasn’t the most present of fathers and he wasn’t even sure if your mother was his second or third ex wife anymore, but he knew human behavior and human behavior clearly showed there was no reason for you to be there, “kid, i’m sure you hate sports of any kind.” david comments, observing as you made sure jack’s shoes were tight and wouldn’t get in his way. 

“well dear father, actually, i was a cheerleader for my last three high school years. and the first two university ones.” he knows that, and you know he knows it, but your best way out of the mess you were purposefully getting into right now was to appeal to the guilt you knew he still had from not being around much. “base of the pyramid, very important, sporty, love sports.” you noticed you were going on for too long and shut your yapper.

lucky for you aaron didn’t seem to mind the two of you discussing, busy watching his baby boy with the most sweetest look on his face, he looks ethereal, his smile the most enchanting you’ve ever seen. 

you can feel your father’s glance going from you to aaron slowly, he’s observing, analyzing but trying hard to ignore the signs. the signs that you weren’t there for some dad and daughter bonding.

unless the dad in question was hotchner.

the sole reason you had put yourself in short rounded skirt, sports short underneath, gym sneakers and shirt, and an old baseball cap to make it look like it wasn't so out of the norm for you to be at an event like that. it was. your dad was right, you didn't like sports, you liked cheer squad and the parties and the players, not the game. but you had your eyes set on the coach today which is why you were there instead of working on your masters' assignments.

you couldn't even pretend to know what was going on, if it was football you had some experience from watching and hearing past flings talk about it, but soccer? you could only cheer for jack and bicker with the soccer moms around as they talked about how much better their children were.

"hey lady if your son gets that close to jack again i'm gonna jump him." you point your finger at one of them, decorum almost goes to hell as she begins walking your direction, rossi stepping in the way to apologize for your behavior.

oh. you can't just threaten to hurt kids. that's not okay. "sorry, just used to fighting with guys' girlfriends to defend my team. cheer squad reflex memory." you say lowly directly to aaron, not even bothering to apologize to your father. your cheeks tomato red, a combination from the embarrassment and the sun that was making everyone sweat.

"it's fine, she has to teach her son fair play anyway, he's not gonna go far like that." his expression doesn't show even one single sign of being mad at you, you notice it, rossi notices it. aaron's actually smiling, completely amused by the situation.

it was nice to have someone sticking up for his boy like that.

and to have someone look at him with those eyes. not the aw you're such a good dad eyes most mothers gave him when he's around for matches. nope. the please fuck me eyes you always shot at him even if your father was around. for the sake of his loyalty to rossi he pretended not to see it, as he knew rossi did too. he hoped david didn't notice the eyes he himself gave you though, or that if he did, he was kind enough to ignore it, aaron would never act on it. never. he was twice your age if not more even if he weren't friends with david.

still, he enjoyed the touches, the stolen glances, the way you wore your short dresses and skirts around him, the way you showed you cared above the desire for the unobtainable. how you sent him cute videos with show jack as a caption, how you remembered to bring a towel not for yourself, but to pat his face dry, delicate as ever.

"people will think you were the one playing sweating like this." you go through his face and his neck with it, handing him a water bottle after. you brought those yourself too, you wanted to be useful.

before he can hold it back, a smirk deliciously mischievous takes grip of his lips, "what can i say dear, i tend to sweat a bit when i'm doing any type of exercise." you're not sure if you wished you hadn't caught the innuendo of his reply, as you were now fighting hard not to squirm in front of him. oh you wanted nothing more than to be the one making him sweat.

"good thing your bedroom has an a.c then." you say almost mindlessly, panicking just a tad when you grasped the idea that maybe remembering that so easily wasn't the most normal thing to do. did you just sound obsessive? stalkerish? you think not when he chuckles, nodding in agreement.

you both just look at each other for a minute, breathing patterns completely irregular, being interrupted only by your father loudly coughing from some steps away from you both, tired of having to deal with the obvious tension between his daughter and his co-worker, his friend! rossi doesn't say anything else though. and neither does aaron or you, deciding to just go back to paying attention to the match.

but hotch had just got you an in. if he hadn't flirted back you might just keep it as a crush, but now?

now you needed him.

#lari writes sometimes #i have no control over my brain and my typing atp it just happens and jo just keeps enabling me #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[celestialglow24]

••• Even Still •••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way

once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx

“Don’t.”

He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.

The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.

It felt as though it was right in your ears.

Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.

It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.

But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.

You didn’t think about the possible consequences.

You didn’t care.

All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.

So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.

While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.

So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.

You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”

It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.

You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.

He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.

“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the bathroom sink.

“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”

He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.

You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.

“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”

As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.

“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.

“I did what was necessary.”

“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.

“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”

“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”

He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.

You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t ask for his permission.

He was wanting to know why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?

But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.

Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.

You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.

Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”

Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.

All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”

“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”

You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.

Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.

Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.

You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.

The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.

“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”

“Frank.” you sighed.

“No I wanna know.”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.

“Was it worth it?”

You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.

But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.

“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”

You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.

“Enough, Frank.”

He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?

“What about your mom, huh?”

That made you pause.

“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”

Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.

“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.

“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”

You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.

“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”

“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”

You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?

“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”

“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”

Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.

You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.

But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.

Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.

“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”

Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.

“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.

He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.

“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”

“No, but that’s my girl.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”

It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.

It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.

After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.

So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Frank?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”

“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.

“But what if-”

“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”

You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.

But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.

Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.

Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.

As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #the punisher #punisher x reader #jon bernthal #frank castle x you #frank castle

[the-cannibal]

Slashers with a s/o who has weird cravings for inedible things

Have you ever looked at tide pods, erasers, basically anything with a big DO NOT EAT CONTACT POISON CONTROL IF INGESTED sticker on them? Me too! So here’s a funny little thing for that!

Ps: please don’t actually eat any of the things in this- there are alternative things that you can actually eat that are similar to these things!

Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used

Slashers included: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Vorehees, Michael Myers, Brahms Heelshire, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Vincent Sinclair:

“Vinny Vinny Vinny!”

“???”

“Can I eat some of that wax?” You pointed off to the scraps on the table by the art piece he was currently working on.

“?!?!?!” Cue frantic signing - ‘Y/n no- you can’t eat that, it will make you sick! Why would you even want to in the first place?’

You shrugged. “I dunno. It just looks warm and tasty!”

Vincent will now make sure to keep an eye on you anytime you are around wax.

But one day your curiosity won, and he caught you mid lick on one of his sculptures.

Yeah he was all mother hen on you for a while.

Bo Sinclair:

Bo was in his garage (surprise surprise) working on a car. You decided to tag along.

“Hey Bo, can I drink some of that?”

“Sure darlin.” Bo had said without looking up. He has just assumed you were talking about the glass of ice tea he has sitting next to him.

It wasn’t until her heard you spitting up something into the dirt that he actually looked up and saw the bottle of oil in your hand…

“Y/n what the fuck?!” He shouted at you. He was angry sure but he was mostly concerned and didn’t want you to fucking poison yourself, so he stuck two fingers down your throat and forced you to puke.

“Why would you do that?!”

“It looked like root beer!” You shouted between coughs.

“God you’re almost as bad as Lester…”

Jason Vorhees:

Oh if you think this man will even let you get anything inedible anywhere near your mouth you are wrong.

Jason has had to swat out jelly erasers out of your hand while you were working on a drawing because the fake pink strawberry inside it was just too tempting for you. You now only get to use boring white erasers… which you were banned from for a while when you thought they looked like marshmallows.

“Hey Jason, what do you think tidepods taste like?” You are no longer aloud to do laundry by yourself.

But he would help make snacks for you that have said texture of whatever thing you want. Wanna eat sand? Here’s some granola he’s made and crushed up to look and feel like it!

Michael Myers:

You’ve probably eaten a lot of stuff you shouldn’t have- dude isn’t the most observant at first.

But the second he does catch you, he’s watching you like a hawk.

He about yelled at you when he saw you munching on one of his (thankfully clean) jump suits. But he didn’t and instead took it away from you, lightly tapping you on your nose, scolding you like you were a teething puppy.

Actually that is what he saw you as when you’d do this-

He isn’t a cooker or a baker but if he finds anything edible that he thinks would satisfy your cravings then he will take it.

Brahms Heelshire

“New rule! Y/n is not aloud to eat anything without Brahms’ permission!”

“Brahms I don’t think that’s gonna work-“

“THEN STOP TRYING TO EAT THE PIANO KEYS!”

What? The Heelshire’s have a lot of old stuff! A lot of old tasty looking stuff… like the piano and Brahms’ records.

Brahms sometimes feels like a nanny for you when it comes to food. He now sits on the counter and watches you like a bird hunting it’s prey to make sure you aren’t sneaking anything in your mouth you shouldn’t. Don’t worry Brahms! They’d never do that!… would you..?

Billy and Stu:

Stu does the same thing as you.

Billy feels like he needs to keep you both on those little backpacks with those leashes that keep kids from running into traffic.

He has put you two in them before… he calls it ‘dumb snacking jail’

You make a comment about how Billy would know all about being in a jail.

That earned you more time in dumb snacking jail-

“They aren’t hurting anyone!” Stu shouted

“Stu they are trying to eat rocks…”

“It’s not hurting anyone!”

“ITS HURTING THEM-?!”

#bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #slasher x reader #house of wax x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #michael myers #vincent sinclair x reader #billyloomis #stu macher x reader #stumacher #jason vorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #billy loomis x reader

[lighteyed]

driving miss mayfield

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[5.8k] steve gives you driving lessons, max gives you heat, you give yourself no time to daydream.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be.

     “What do you mean you don’t know how to drive?” The disbelief in his words is almost as emphatic as the annoyance in yours, but he seems to be more disbelieving than you are annoyed at him, who could ever really be annoyed at him, so you let Steve gape at you and blink rapidly instead of telling him to mind his business.

   You slurp down the rest of your soda from the general store in his passenger seat, shrugging, fighting to push down that urge to snap. Mayfield girls, you, Max, your mother when she wasn’t bogged down by a soul-sucking man-leech draining her lifeforce from her right before your eyes, had a less than lovely temper most of the time, and you tried very  hard to keep it contained, especially around people who didn’t deserve it. It just felt like a ridiculous question. “I mean, why do you think I’m stuck drivin’ with Billy half the time? You think I get in that car willingly? You think Max gets in that car willingly?”  You shake your head. “No way. If I had a license I would’ve been, like, halfway back to California the second you people started dragging me and Max into your science fiction monster crap.”

    “As if she woulda let you,” Steve scoffs with a similar head shake, a lock of his hair falling nicely into place in the middle of his forehead. He swipes at it quickly. He has this ridiculous urge to never be anything less than perfect in front of you, you, who is perfect without effort, leading him to put even more effort into holding up this front for himself. “Besides, you’d miss this pretty face, right?” He points to himself, smiles, and waits for you to laugh. You do. It makes his heart constrict.

   “Think you’d miss my pretty face, actually,” you snort, shoving your now empty shake in the cupholder.

    “Yeah, I would,” he teases, just a little, just enough to make further attempts at breaking all that ice you’ve got protecting you, and he swears, he sees it crack the slightest amount, even though you don’t answer. You smile and stare down at your hands in your lap, twisting a mood ring around your finger and making sure you don’t look at him. He’ll take what he can get. “Well, anyhow,” he says, dramatically blowing air out of his mouth, the subject change swift and, in his opinion, a flawless execution, “I can’t in good conscience let you keep driving with him.”

    “You already drive me and Max and all her friends everywhere, you don’t have to do anything else.” You don’t like being indebted to anyone. Even if it’s Steve, who insists on picking you up for school in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons and, if he’s free, taking you anywhere else you need to go. And he usually is free, because you, and the group of middle schoolers (almost high schoolers, to be fair) he’s adopted since he protected them from Billy and the Demodogs and the whole Mind Flayer debacle (you’re still fuzzy on the details, honestly) a few months ago,  are his only friends nowadays, so it’s not like his schedule is packed and there’s no room to fit you in there. There’s more than enough room. If there wasn’t, he’d make it so. You both knew that.

    “I love driving you,” he insists. “But the thing is, my dad’s cutting me off.”

    “He’s what?”

    “Like, you know, he’s gonna stop paying for my shit. I’m not goin’ to college and he thinks I’m a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You are not a useless sack of nothing-“

   “You tell that to him-“

   “Take me there right now and I will-“

    “Alright, alright, easy.” As much as he’d love to see you go toe to toe with his dad, and you’d be able to, he’s sure, he doesn’t want to talk about it any further than the basic facts of the situation. He’s not going to college therefore his dad has no reason to pay for anything he does anymore. His car insurance is his responsibility now, anything else he needs is up to him to to get, food, clothes, gas, if he has to go to the hospital he’s sure his dad would shove the medical bills onto him, too. He was like that, unfortunately for Steve. But it was one thing he could relate to you on. You had him slightly beat, though. You had two dads to complain about, both terrible in their own ways. Sam Mayfield: emotionally distant, didn’t bother to call, didn’t ask you to visit, too busy when you lived with him to spend any time with you anyway. And then, of course, there was Neil Hargrove: controlling, abusive, cold Neil Hargrove. How he’d charmed your mother into marrying him was a mystery to you and to Max, but you supposed, for as much as you loved her on principle because she was your mother and you pitied her and looked up to her all the same, she was easily charmed by men. It killed you a little more every time it happened, but this was the first time she’d actually brought him into your family, integrating them together in a way she thought would be seamless, but you and Max despised your stepbrother and he despised you both right back. “Point is, I’m gonna have to get a job, probably at that new mall they’re opening up-“

   “Oh the horror-“ you feign a hand over your forehead and slump back in your seat- “Rich pretty boy Steve Harrington doing labor, at the fancy new mall, with those soft delicate hands of yours, whatever will you do-“

   “Shut it,”  he warns, but there’s a grin on his face anyway. “You just admitted I’m pretty, by the way.” He continues before you can dispute his claims. “I’m not gonna be around as much. So you need your license. Unless you wanna be stuck with Billy yelling in your ear all day long.” He pauses, thinking. “Which might make me kill him. So, actually, unless you want me to murder him in cold blood-”

   “Please? I’m begging at this point,” you joke back.

   “Let me get a word in would you?” He laughs and it sounds like music to you. You keep it to yourself. “I want you to be okay on your own. I don’t want him, y’know, hurting you guys, okay? So you need your license.” His words and his eyes go lovely and soft, all rounded ages, nothing jagged about them, just pure, undulated care and affection.

    It makes you soften, too. You spend a lot of time looking after Max, it hits you hard when someone takes the time to look after you, too. “I don’t know, Steve, I wouldn’t be getting a car right after or anything, my job doesn’t pay enough, and we can just take the bus or something. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

   ‘I’m teaching you to drive, and you can take my car wherever you need to go. I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go on over to wherever I’m working, drop me off, and then you go wherever you need to go and come back in time to pick me up.” He says it so easily, as if it’s the most obvious answer to your problems in the world. He doesn’t even fathom how much it means to you.

   “You’d let me drive this?” You brace both your hands on the dashboard, your turn to stare at him in incredulity. His car is nice. It’s beautiful, really, and you don’t know much about cars. It’s classic and shiny and new. And expensive. Expensive being the operative word. Billy’s car is nice, too, and it’s about the only thing he takes care of other than his physique, which he thinks about obsessively, but you don’t think it’s anywhere as nice as Steve’s. Not in your opinion, anyway. The fact that Steve is nicer in personality (and looks, quite frankly) might make you biased, though. “I can’t afford to replace anything if I scratch it or crash it or if it explodes.”

   “You won’t scratch, crash, or explode it, you’re gonna be learning from the best.”

   “And who would that be?”

   “Me, obviously. Welcome to your first driving lesson, I’ll be your instructor, Mr. Harrington, thank you for joining us Miss Mayfield.” He tips an imaginary hat toward you. You’re not sure what driving instructors wear hats but you let him have his fantasy anyway.

   “Right now?” You can barely process what’s happening before he’s popping open his door, lanky legs sliding right out. He raps the hood of the car with his knuckles, ducking his head inside to look at you.

   “Yes, right now, Mayfield, no time like the present.” He comes around to the side you’re on and opens door for you, ushering you out. He holds your hand to help you out of the car, entirely unnecessary but a smooth move nonetheless, and your hands fit together in a way that makes him want to keep them clasped like that forever. He ushers you into the driver’s seat with a quickness that almost gives you whiplash.

    Your hands prop up on the wheel, uneasy. Your palms start to sweat. “I don’t like this,” you tell him. You take your hands off and wipe them on your jeans. They immediately dampen again. You’re afraid of leaving sweat prints all over his wheel and leaving a car-shaped hole in the side of the now abandoned Benny’s Burgers, the parking lot almost empty, save for the car that you are now responsible for. It’s eight o’clock on a school and work night, so naturally no one else was around and Hawkins may as well have been asleep.

   “You haven’t even attempted to drive yet.”

   “My hands keep slipping off the wheel,” you grasp for his hand and press yours against it, raising your eyebrows. “Do you feel the sweat?”

   “Jesus, yeah.” He squeezes your hand with encouragement anyway. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m a much nicer driving teacher than anyone you could hire at the school. You’re in good hands. Great hands. The best ones. Perfect, amazing hands.”

    Your eyes flick down to Steve’s hands. You have to agree. “I don’t even have a permit. You could get in trouble.”

    “By who? Chief Hopper? Officer Callahan?” He nearly cackles at the notion. “You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it.”

    “Bad choice of words.”

    “Enough stalling, let’s get to the lesson.” He claps his hands together. His face retains a serious, focused quality to it. It’s very handsome (he’s always handsome and it kills you a little because you don’t have time to daydream). “Alright, hands here, and here,” he taps the wheel to show you the correct position. He thinks he might die if you connect your hands again. “That’s called the 10 and 2 position.”

    “Why’s it called that?”

    “I don’t know, it just is, doesn’t matter, that’s where they go so you have the best control for making turns and steering.” You do as he says. “Okay, so now, you have to relax.”

    “Girls love hearing that, Steve,” you grind your teeth.

    But your rigidity and discomfort is obvious, especially to you, and you know it can’t be natural to drive all scrunched up and tense like this. “You’ll be fine. You can’t be all stiff if you ever want to get comfortable doing this.”

    “But I’m not comfortable.”

    “Hence why we’re doing this, yeah?’

   “I thought we were doing this so me and Billy don’t strangle each other.”

    “That too. Can’t have my only friend dead. Then I’ll be stuck with all the kids by myself.”

   “Can’t leave Max alone, either,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You think about her most of all. While you spend all this time with Steve, you worry over her all the time. You constantly check in to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. You fret about her being left alone with Billy. She occupies almost all of your thoughts.

   “Never,” he agrees, even if you weren’t talking to him. You give him a thankful smile. His heart almost stops but he clears his throat to snap himself out of it. “Okay, now, let’s turn the key, turn the car back on.”

  “Turning the key,” you nod, licking your lips. You turn the key in the ignition until the engine rumbles to life. The car vibrates in response. You hate it.

   “Clutch pedal down with your left foot,” he says, pointing. You do as he says. “Move this,” he pats the gear stick, “into first gear, right here, left then up.” He watches you carefully, nodding back. “Good, okay, press down on the acceleration with your right foot now, gently,” he adds. He can tell by the furrow in your brow that you hate it. “You’re doing good,” he praises.

  “Yeah, yeah, continue.”

  “Now you gotta lift the clutch until you feel it vibrating, okay, then release the handbrake, keep slowly moving off the clutch until you’re moving with just the acceleration, okay?” He finds the deeply serious expression you’re wearing kind of endearing. “If it stalls we’re gonna start again, but don’t worry about it.”

But you don’t stall. The car moves as it should, with you controlling it, in the empty parking lot by the neighborhood park. “Great, great, almost perfect” he tells you, “we can probably go faster if you wanna try that-“

  “No, we cannot,” you say tightly, your shoulders hunched.

  The laugh he lets out makes your spine tingle. “You have to relax your face, I promise you’ll drive better if you’re not all… scrunched up,” he motions to your shoulder area.

  You try. You roll them back as you keep focusing on the road, trying not to furrow your brows so much. You’ll get a permanent forehead wrinkle at this rate.

   “See, there we go,” Steve reassures. Your let out a little huff, but your face goes placid, still. “Beautiful.” He’s not sure if he means to say it. If he should. He says it anyway.

  You look sideways at him as you drive through the parking lot. You’re driving slow. Slower than slow. You’re practically inching along. “You can’t possibly be flirting with me right now.” It’s not that you don’t like it. You do. It hurts how much you do. If he wasn’t freshly single and you didn’t feel so obligated to focus most of your time on taking care of Max, you’d flirt back. You weren’t new to it or anything. You knew your way around a guy. Even a gorgeous one like Steve. But he was only a few months over Nancy and you saw the grimaces he did when she and Jonathan crossed his path. You weren’t sure if he was over her. Or if Max was comfortable and secure enough here to be a little more independent.

  “I am not,” he scoffs. The blush creeping up his neck onto his cheeks betrays him. You shift your eyes to look at him again but he points, “eyes on the road, by the way.”

  “You were flirting, you just can’t help yourself, can you? King Steve, right?” You snicker, recalling the nickname from when you’d first met him, the one that had been rescinded just as fast. It’s easy to hide the fact that you liked the way he said beautiful, like a caress, like a kiss, behind your banter and snark. Maybe it’s one thing you and Billy could have in common. Everything’s easier when you hide it behind an attitude.

  “I wouldn’t say that stating a fact is… flirting,” he shrugs, flippant. At least, he hopes it appears flippant. You don’t give yourself much time to ponder this.

  “It is when you say it in that voice,” you retort.

  “Huh? What voice?” He balks at that. He does not put on a voice.

  “Like, low and sultry,” you flick some hair away from your eyes. It had been the way he said it, after all.  

     “You think my voice is low and sultry?” His ears practically perk up like a puppy’s. You don’t answer. It’s actually all the answer he needs. “I think you’re the one flirting with me now, Mayfield, not the other way around.”

  You scoff. You are scoffing and he is laughing away. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

  “Every night.” The joke registers with that one but it still makes your stomach clench. Every butterfly in the western hemisphere makes its way into your gut and builds a home there, an uncontrollable influx of new neighbors, fluttering madly, demanding to be seen and known and understood. You understood them, you just didn’t want to. “See, now that, that was flirting,” he says, satisfied at your quiet. “And you sound like your stepbrother when you say my last name like that, by the way. Excellent Billy impression.”

   You’re doing slow, lazy laps around the parking lot at this point, your nerves still present but for entirely different reasons now. “I do not sound like Billy.” You grimace. “And you probably shouldn’t be flirting with anyone when you just got out of a relationship, like, not even four months ago. I don’t think you’re ready to be flirting again.” You, again, are saying it more to yourself than to him. A subtle reminder of the predicament you’re in.  

  “Hence why I’m not flirting,” he informs you.

  “Uh huh,” you say, unconvinced.

 “But if I was-“

“Which you’re not-“

“Which I am not,” he agrees, “how would you feel? Just for, y’know, future reference.” He juts his lip out, wondering.

  “Let’s circle back to that when you’re not still reeling from the Nancy incident.”  

  “Well,” he shifts around in his seat. He wouldn’t say he’s still reeling. Still hurt, sure. But hurt sticks around longer than heartbreak does. You can be hurt by something someone did and not still be heartbroken over them. He wouldn’t say he’s still heart broken. Looking at you, his heart feels very much intact. Nothing broken here, no, definitely not. “That’s why it’s for a hypothetical future reference.”

  “Right, of course,” you slow the car to a stop. “Then I wouldn’t be opposed. Hypothetically.”

  “You wouldn’t?”  

  “I wouldn’t.” But, you remember, suddenly, that it’s not just you that you look out for. “Once Max is all settled, of course.”

   “Settled?”

   “Like, y’know, feeling better about being here.”

    “She’s got a massive group of friends she sees all the time.”

   “I know, but-“

   “You worry about her, I get it,” he places a hand on your knee, very light, not asking for anything. “Who worries about you? You should- you should be happy, too, is that crazy to say?”

   You place your hand over his.  “I’m happy. I’m happy, I promise. I don’t need you to worry about me, I’m okay.”

   “You should do more things for yourself.”

   “Like getting my license,” you gesture to the car.

   “Like getting your license, yeah.” Like going on a date with me. Like letting me show you how serious I am about you.

   “I’m okay how I am.”

   “I’m making it my job to look out for you, y’know.”

   You smile again. Very soft, almost embarrassed. You hated the attention being on you but you had to get used to it, being around him. “Yeah, Steve, I know.”

   He’s diligent in his effort to give you driving lessons. He takes you driving almost every day after school, Max in the backseat if she’s not with her friends, both of them encouraging and kind even when you hit the curb more often than not. You were a good driver, for all intents and purposes, even though your palms still sweat every time you got behind the wheel. It was a gradual comfort process. They were less sweaty than the first time, and that had to count for something. You even get comfortable enough to drive through Main Street, which nearly sends you into a panic and leads to a shouting match between the two of you while you furiously honk your horn at the other people of Hawkins on the road, Steve slumped in his seat to avoid eye contact with everyone, but after that, you’re a pro.

    A few weeks of this pass when he says to you, out of the blue as you drive aimlessly, “So, I set up your road test for you.”

   You’re still not used to this whole looking out for you thing he’s got going on. You almost stop the car short. “Did you really?”

    “I think you’re ready. You’re great, you’ll pass easily.”

    “You think?” You’re typically confident, strong-willed, but sometimes he sees those flickers of insecurity crop up and he attempts to smother that right then and there.

   “For sure,” he nods. “They’ll be begging you to be on the road.”

   “You flatter me.”

   “You deserve it.” His eyes, his smile, trained on you, always, is devastating. Maybe you do. Maybe you do.

    At your dinner table that night, you, Max, your mom, Neil, and Billy, Max does what she should never do in front of Neil or Billy, and that’s open her mouth.

   Billy had been going on about how he was sick of being the chauffeur, even though he really wasn’t anymore, and that if he was going to get a job this summer before college like Neil wanted you two would have to learn to get around on your own, because he can’t be responsible for two people if he also had to be responsible for a job.

   “She’s getting her driver’s license tomorrow,” she jerks her head toward you, a proud, beautiful smile on her face, and you want to drag her by the hair into your shared bedroom to ask why in the world she’d ever tell that to everyone and also give her the biggest hug for the evident pride she takes in the fact that you’re independent and doing things on your own and she looks up to you so, so much. You bite your lip as Neil’s fork scrapes noisily across his plate. “And Steve’s been driving us around anyway, so I don’t know what you’re going on about-“

   You interrupt her with a hard, socked foot coming down on her own. Your eyes go wide and your head tilts in her direction,  a please oh please stop talking expression.

    “Who has been driving you, exactly?” Neil asks, eyebrows raised.

   “My friend from school, it’s no big deal,” you answer, staring down at your plate and then back up at him. His cold gaze is fixated on you.

   “What happened to the agreement we had?” Neil turned his sneer to Billy, rendered speechless by Max’s unexpectedly bold statement. Billy then glares at you, and you really don’t want an argument, so you cut in.

  “It’s only sometimes, like once a week, and he doesn’t drive us to school, he drives us home. Rarely. Rare occasions. I promise.” A lie, flowing easily from your lips, and because Neil thinks you’re a smart, good girl, and his son is always up to no good and lying, he relaxes, and so does Billy, though you’ll get no thanks from him, not now, not ever.

  “Well, who’s been teaching you to drive where you feel ready to take your test?” Neil stretches across the table to get another helping of the meal your mother prepared from the middle of the table.

   “Steve, when we’re both free.” Every day.

   And because Billy can’t let you have anything, because he needs to instantly make you regret ever doing anything nice for him, he says, “I’m not a big fan of this Steve guy.”

   “Hm, and why’s that?” Neil continues eating.

   “It’s a petty high school rivalry,” you interrupt, narrowing your eyes at him.

   “He’s got a reputation with girls, you know. I wouldn’t want to see something bad happen to you.” Billy’s stupid grin eats shit. The feigned care makes your skin crawl.

   “What sort of reputation is that? You shouldn’t be hanging out with that sort of person,” Neil frowns. Again, with that feigned care. It’s not about genuine worry for you. It’s about control. Dominance. You won’t fall for it.

  “It’s all rumors. He had a serious girlfriend for a year. And we’re not together, anyway. He’s my friend.”

   “Guys all want the same thing,” Billy says back.

  “How would you know?” You push, nearly slamming your hands on the table.

   “I’m friends with the basketball team, there’s locker room talk, you get the picture.” He continues smiling in that mocking way of his that makes you want to jump across the dining room and put your fork through his eye.

   “You don’t actually know anything, though, do you, considering you’re not friends with him?”

   “I think I know enough to know that this isn’t the type of person my sister should be associating with-“

   That gets you going most of all, which is giving him exactly what he wants, and you can’t help it. “We are not siblings-“ your chair drags across the floor with a loud screech as you remove yourself from the table, just as Neil is telling you both to settle down.

  “C’mon, honey, sit back down, you can hang out with whoever you want, I’m sure this boy is very nice,” Susan coaxes you gently but you don’t even look at her, too caught up with the fact that it’s all her fault you’re here in this place with these people, these strangers, that you hate so deeply it makes your bones ache.

  “’M done eating, going to my room,” and you don’t care how annoyed it makes Neil that you’ve gotten up before he’s finished eating, which has become practice in this house now, you can’t even celebrate the fact that you’re achieving a milestone, getting your license, God damn it, without it turning into the Billy Hargrove one man show. He makes everything, everything, hurt.

   Max comes in a little while later, her footsteps light and hesitant on the floor. She crawls into your bed even though hers is across the room and she hasn’t slept beside you since your first night here.

   “Are you mad at me?” She asks. Her eyes are big and blue, worried.

   “’Course not.” You smooth her hair back. You’re not mad at her, truly. It’s not her fault Billy ruins everything. “I know you were just trying to get back at him for his complaining. S’not your fault, lovie.”

   “I should’ve known it would turn into that,” she frowns, uneasy. “It always turns into that.”

   “You don’t have to know anything. You should be allowed to say whatever you want to our parents, that’s what they’re there for. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” You boop her nose with the tip of your finger. You’ve been sulking in your room because of him, not her.

  “Can I ask you something?” You’re face to face with each other, both your heads lying on your pile of pillows, hair fanned out behind you. Her expression is earnest and endearing.

  “Always.”

 “I thought you and Steve were dating already.”

 You hesitate. “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay,” she rolls her eyes. There’s no malice behind it. “Why aren’t you dating?”

  You crinkle your nose, dismissive. “Because, I’m- I’m, like, busy, with stuff, and he’s not over Mike’s sister and I just, I don’t wanna get mixed up with some silly boy.”

   She admires your dismissive attitude toward boys, and it might be why she breaks up with Lucas every other week in exasperation with his boyish faults. She just thinks it’s crazy that you have this attitude when a guy like Steve is the one following you around with shiny looks and dreamy smiles. She’s sure that you’d never deny Steve, who, when she observed you both from the backseat, did everything in his power to make you feel comfortable, safe, secure, was kind to her while also maintaining a brotherly banter, something she thought she was getting when Billy had been introduced to her, was funny, and generous. He was always letting you drive his car and buying you both food and making sure you had a ride somewhere if you needed it. And she drove her and her friends around everywhere even if you weren’t there, too. Steve seemed perfect.

   He was easy on the eyes, too, but it brought a hot flush to Max’s cheeks to admit that, so she never would. 

   “He’s not a silly boy, he’s Steve.”

   “A boy is just a boy no matter who he is, you know that.”

   “Yeah, but,” she huffs, indignant, “he really likes you. I bet he’d go out with you if you asked.”

   “I’m not asking him out, and he doesn’t like me like that. He’s a good friend. And I told you, I’m too busy for him.”

   “Busy with what?” She cries, exasperated. “Busy driving with Steve, busy doing homework with Steve, busy getting dinner with Steve, busy-“

   She’s running out of fingers to write her list on. You grab her hand to stop the count. “I get your point.”

   “You can’t be too busy for someone if you already spend so much time with them, is all I’m saying.” She has a point. You scratch your arm absentmindedly. “What’s the real reason?”

   “What real reason? You’re saying that’s not the real reason?”

  “Definitely not the real reason.”

   “Says who?”

   “Says your best friend.”

   You sigh at her, a loving sound. “Oh, yeah, her.” You run a hand through her hair again. The softness of it soothes you. “I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

    She pokes your cheek. “I’m not alone. I have my friends.”

   “Didn’t you hear that we’re best friends? I can’t leave you in the dust.” It’s more playful than you really feel. You don’t want to burden her by unburdening yourself, relaying all your fears about what would happen if you spent more time with Steve, things like her resenting you, something awful happening between her and Billy, her getting hurt, injured, killed, your brain delved into all sorts of dark, terrible places, and these spiraling thoughts led to one conclusion: you would never, ever, let your focus waver from her. “I take care of you, okay? I don’t have the time to think about anything else. Besides, he might not even be over Nance, remember?”

   “He is. He is over her. I promise,” she insists, placing her hands on your arms. “He looks at you like he’s in love, I’ve seen it!”

   “You don’t know what you’re seeing, babe-“

  “I do.” She shoves herself off your bed, your hand, where it was twined in her hair, falling back onto the covers. You sit up, confused, as she stomps off to her own bed.

  “Are you mad at me right now?” You ask.

   “I’d be happy if you were happy.”

    “Max, stop, I am happy-“

   “Not happy enough. He’s nice. You should just go out with him. Stupid to worry about me all the time.” She flicks off her lamp light and turns away from you toward her wall. You sigh. You think. Your stomach twists itself in a knot you don’t want to think about. Eventually, when her stubbornness about it overrides yours, you turn back toward your own wall and turn out your own light. Your eyes strain from trying not to cry, so eventually, you cave in to that, too.

   Your hands shake at your road test the next day. For a multitude of reasons. You look at Steve differently, with your head tilted toward him like the head of a flower tilts toward the sun, waiting and wanting. You’re running over all the ways it could go wrong. You resign yourself to never doing a thing about it.

    He notices your quiet, so unlike yourself, and attributes it to your nerves about the test. He rubs your shoulders, an attempt to hype you up. “You got this, okay? You’re gonna kill it. You’re gonna be the second best driver in Hawkins.”

   “Lemme guess, you’re the first?” It’s the first smile you’ve cracked all day and he takes it as the victory it is.

   “Well it’s certainly not Billy,” he rolls his eyes. “Seriously, how you feelin’?” He spins you around and the gaze he bores into you is too intense to bear. You look away fervently.

   “Fine, ‘m fine, nervous, but fine, should be good, my driving instructor was excellent.” He beams with pride at that, a blinding flash.

   “World renowned, I heard,” he brags.

   “Let’s see if I pass first.”

   “You will,” he says. Confident, assured. It makes you feel assured in turn.  

   And you do. You pass. By a hair, truth be told, but you pass. It thrills you, clutching the paper declaring your triumph in your fist, walking outside to greet Steve who leans against the hood of his car in his devastating way of his, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he taps his foot in wait. When he sees you come out, he brightens, straightening himself out.

   “What’s the verdict?” He asks.

   You wave the paper around. “I passed!” You can’t fake it for a second, your joy at this little bit of freedom absolutely inescapable. He lets out a loud, thrilled whoop for you, and his joy brings you even more of it. He picks you up off the ground and spins you in a circle, and when you’re back on the sidewalk, steady, he envelopes you in a deep, encompassing hug.

  When he hugs, his whole body goes into it, if that makes any sense. He throws his all into it. There’s no hesitancy, no timidity, he’s not ashamed of it in the slightest. He hugs you, hard. He’s that proud. And he likes holding you. You pull away first and he’s not surprised.

  “Proud of you,” he squeezes you arm again.

   “Couldn’t have done it without, Steve, really. You- you’re the best, y’know that?”

   He decides to push his luck. “Good enough to go on a date with?” He can see already that you’ll say no. That you want to say yes but you’re going to say no. He doesn’t care. He’ll wait until you’re sick of him.

  “You don’t wanna go out with me,” you squeeze his arm back.

  “You’re real silly, you know that?” His voice is warm and awfully fond.

  You can’t bring yourself to let him all the way in just yet. You walk with him back to the car and agree with him. Yes, you’re real silly, indeed.

#if u have requests for more mayfield reader content. pls hit me up. i am in fact begging. #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x mayfield!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #STEVE CROWD WAKE THE FUCK UP #mayfieldreaderverse

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d.

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: Ahahahah fuck here we go again. Here’s to @bookxish and @ablondieproduction for helping me get this started and consequently probably ruining my life in the process :^)

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Princess

Karga slid a single puck across the table before he leaned back in the booth. “Client wants the quarry back alive.”

The Mandalorian didn’t reach for the puck. “Unless you have more, I’m not interested.”

“You will be when you hear how much they’re willing to pay,” Karga countered, a sly grin on his face. “Thirty thousand, with an extra five if you bring the quarry back before the end of the month.”

It was moments like this that the helmet was an excellent asset. The hunter’s brows had shot up in surprise, disbelief surely written in his features as he considered just how much that was —more than enough for fuel, for food and supplies. He couldn’t believe that one quarry was worth that much.

But the helmet hid the surprise just fine.

He took the puck, about to switch the hologram up but Karga stopped him.

“I’m gonna recommend you keep the details to yourself, Mando,” he warned, and for once, Mando considered listening. “She’s not missing because she’s a helpless damsel who got taken by an enemy. She’s missing because she wants to be missing. She’s been gone several days already. No one seems to be able to find her.”

Mando turned the hologram on, leaning back as the image of a young woman in Senate regalia faltered before him. The maroon color of her gown was accented by the gold chains that hung from her hands and ears —but what caught his attention were her eyes. He couldn’t tell the color; it didn’t matter. Her eyes were wide, cast to the side as if she was looking at something that surprised her. The rest of her face showed her emotions well, even if her body language was stiff. She was beautiful, in a frustrating way. A way that suggested she knew but didn’t want others to notice.

Another reason to appreciate the helmet —he noticed things that people didn’t want noticed. But they never knew.

He recognized the man behind her as the senator of Senex. Last Mando had heard, the senator had died. They had yet to find a replacement.

“Any idea why she doesn’t want to be found?” He asked, switching off the hologram and pocketing the puck. The whole thing felt ridiculous; searching for a missing princess like in a children’s story. But money was money.

Karga shook his head. “Rumors; whispers. But nothing I can confirm.”

“Helpful.”

“You want it or not?”

“I took the puck, didn’t I?”

Karga hummed, leaning back. “Good luck, Mando. I hear she’s a fighter.”

Behind his visor, Mando rolled his eyes.

Everyone was a fighter until they met the Mandalorian.

*****

She left him at the altar.

Oh, Maker. She left her fiancé at the altar.

No, no. She didn’t even make it to the altar. She didn’t even make it to the wedding.

What was she thinking? Was she thinking? Of course she was; she had to have been thinking because why else would she have left? Anyone in their right mind would have left too —no one truly wanted to marry someone old enough to be their grandfather. Not without a valid reason.

And her reason was far from valid.

Her reason wasn’t even hers. It was her mother’s.

But Maker —she left —what? Two? Three days ago? — without anything but the dress she wore, an empty backpack, and the credits she had been putting aside for years. No food, or water. No resources. Surely not a change of clothes, which she had to buy immediately. She had stuck out like a Wookiee among Ewoks. After several days of dancing around going home or staying missing, she finally decided she couldn’t go back. Not any time soon.

So, there she sat in a cantina, backpack tucked close to her side. The clothes she wore were far from royal. Instead of the decadent colors of gems, she wore a muted sort of brown tunic, with a scarf that covered her head and shoulders like a hood. She blended in well with the civilians around her, which was what she wanted.

Until she caught a glimpse of a Mandalorian across the room.

Looking at a hologram of her.

She nearly choked on her drink.

Maker help her —they’d put a bounty on her. And a Mandalorian was clearly in the middle of picking it up. If she left now, it would draw his attention. So she waited him out; kept her eyes down, breathing steady. If he left first, she would be fine.

*****

Back on the ship, Din sets the puck on the control panel and turns it back on. The kid sits in his crib, playing with the knob to shifter, but Din can’t bring himself to take it from him. It’s the only thing keeping the kid from crying, and he needs to focus on getting the coordinates for her last location.

The kid looks up at the hologram though, cooing at the image as he makes grabby hands for it.

“No,” Din commands, his voice soft but stern behind the modulator. Then he sighs with exasperation: her last known location was there, on Nevarro. He should have known better.

Sometimes he wondered if Karga liked omitting details. Just to be inconvenient.

The kid babbles but goes back to his ball as Din eyes the image of the young woman in the hologram. He catches every detail —the curve of her cheekbones, the angle of her nose, the fullness of her lips. Back to the length of her hair, where it’s pulled back to be out of her face but stray curls seem to escape.

But he can’t pinpoint her eyes. The color doesn’t capture in the hologram —not well at least. He’s good with details, but he can’t make this one out and it bothers him.

The kid reaches out again, babbling happily as he does so. Din gently pushes his hands away before standing up.

“Let’s go find a princess, kid.”

———

Taglist: OPEN

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #mando x reader #Mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 10 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

The Fella Masterlist

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Summary: A family occasion takes a turn for a worse when Mary tells her aunt Bridie to drop dead, which she takes seriously. At her wake, Michelle has the bright idea to bring laced scones, which are taken and distributed among the guests.

A/N: credits to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of the episode for me :)) btw just a warning, it gets a bit heated a little towards the end, but not too much i think. Also talks of drugs bc duh

***

It was becoming a bit difficult to keep up with who knew about Y/n and James’ relationship and who didn’t. Y/n’s sister Erin knew that she fancied James, but wasn’t updated on the fact that they had been dating for over three months now. Clare knew that the pair were going out after catching them kissing at the Take That concert a few weeks ago. But the rest of the group and the teens’ families were none the wiser.

Except for Y/n’s father, Gerry.

One night, everyone was hanging around the Quinn household. There were movies, loads of chatting, and some dinner. But with so many people in the house, it was hard to have even a moment alone with James. So, while everyone argued over what to put on next, Y/n snuck out to the front room, boyfriend close behind.

“I thought we weren’t gonna try to keep things a secret,” James said as he leaned against the wall, Y/n tucked into his side and holding his hand.

“I know Jamie. But with situations like this, I think it’s better to sneak away. I mean, imagine the shock that would come to Mammy, Granda, or Michelle if any of ’em found out.”

“Yeah…” James sighed, realizing Y/n was right.

“Now imagine if all three of them found out at the same time.” Y/n laughed at the idea while James’ eyes widened in horror. “Besides, wanting a moment to ourselves isn’t all bad, right?” She asked, looking up at the boy.

“Right.” He mirrored her soft smile before leaning down to catch her lips in a kiss that was eagerly returned. 

So eager that the two didn’t hear the door open.

“You’re lucky it’s me catching you two instead of your mother,” Gerry spoke, startling Y/n and James, who jumped apart. He felt a bit awkward catching his daughter kissing her boyfriend, but he didn’t look too surprised that she had a boyfriend in the first place.

“Da, I can explain.” Y/n tried to go on, but Gerry held up a hand, signaling her to stop.

“I already know.” He said with a smile, hands clasping behind his back. “About you two. Never would’ve if they didn’t decide to film that concert you girls went to.” That new information mortified Y/n and James. But they didn’t have time to fully react, because Gerry continued. “I think the three of us should have a little chat.”

***

The conversation wasn’t as bad as Y/n thought it would’ve been. Gerry was clearly happy and okay with the relationship, just wanting to make sure that they weren’t doing anything too serious. That topic might’ve been the most embarrassing part of the interaction for Y/n.

James, on the other hand, seemed scared shitless the entire time. But Y/n suspected that her father wasn’t so hard on him because of how he was treated by his father-in-law. He probably didn’t want to create some kind of a cycle. Plus, Gerry was pretty fond of James, even before he learned about him and his daughter being an item.

The entire talk played on a loop in Y/n’s head as she sat in church with the rest of her family, waiting for their relative’s wedding to start. Soon enough, the familiar tune of ‘Here Comes The Bride’ started to play, and everyone in the room stood.

“Where do you reckon Aunt Sarah is?” Y/n asked her sister Erin, noticing that a family member was missing from their pew. But her question was soon answered when Sarah entered the room and started walking down the aisle, dressed in white. “Good God.” 

Gasps and murmurs filled the room as Sarah went to stand with her family in the pew, revealing a horrified bride and her father behind her.

“Jesus, but that taxi took forever, so it did.” Sarah sighed. The bride-to-be looked at Sarah, absolutely appalled as she passed by. “Ach, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Mary rolled her eyes and looked up towards the sky as she took a deep breath.

“Give me strength…” She muttered.

***

Y/n was a bit surprised that the Quinn family, mainly her aunt Sarah, was still invited to the reception. But that didn’t stop her from trying to have a good time. She, her sister, and her cousin drank and danced around as they waited for their friends to arrive.

Soon enough, Erin spotted their friends, nudging her sister and cousin to gain their attention. They quickly ran to the venue entrance to meet with the other girls and James.

“Muthafuckas!” Michelle yelled in greetings, arms spread out and grin wide. 

“How’s it been?” Clare asked with a smile.

The sisters and Orla all had different responses, but had the same reaction when Mary snuck up behind the three of them.

“Girls!” The shout startled them, and everyone whipped around to look at her.

“Jesus, Mammy,” Y/n muttered.

“I said you could invite one friend to the reception. One!”

“Mammy, they don’t come separately,” Erin said, rolling her eyes. She thought her mother would’ve learned this after years of friendship.

“We’re like one big set,” Y/n said, gesturing to the group of teenagers.

“Aye, we’re pack animals, Mary,” Michelle said. Mary was about to say something, possibly tell them to leave or further reprimand them, when James spoke.

“I love your hat, Mrs. Quinn.” He said with a smile, eyeing the accessory. Mary smiled, and the girls were surprised to see that her slightly sour mood had seemed to disappear.

“Thanks, son.” She said, giving him a nod before looking at the whole group, a bit more serious. “No wild carry-on. Do you hear me? We’re in enough bother as it is. Best behavior.”

“Completely.” Clare nodded, taking the commands to heart.

“You’ll have no trouble from us, Mary,” Michelle said with an innocent smile, which should be worrying. Mary walked off, and Michelle turned back to the group once she was out of earshot. “Okay, girls, who wants to do drugs?” Y/n snorted at the complete 180, but Michelle was completely serious.

The girls, mainly Michelle and Erin, like always, had a back and forth about the drugs and someone named Macca and so on. Y/n used this moment to turn to James, almost glued to his side at the back of the group as they all walked around the reception party.

“Trying to butter up Mammy, are you?” She asked teasingly, thinking about how James’ little comment completely changed her mother’s sour demeanor.

James laughed a little, throwing his head back, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile stupidly at the boy. He shrugged.

“Well, I figured I might as well start now to try to get on her good side. It’s only a matter of time, I think.” Y/n nodded in agreement.

“We could tell them.” She suggested after a small moment of silence. James perked up, both surprised and delighted by the notion. “I mean, like you said, it’s only a matter of time. And they’d probably prefer hearing it from us over walking in on us doing something.”

James’ cheeks reddened at the sentence. He blinked a few times, his mind clearly drifting off to some kind of thought.

“And by something… you mean like-” Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and music started blasting through the speakers. Y/n lit up in excitement along with the rest of the room, while James looked a bit confused at the commotion that started to happen.

“‘Rock the Boat’! It’s ‘Rock the Boat!” Clare squealed as she recognized the song.

“Happy fuckin’ days!” Michelle said, and the girls ran to the dance floor. Y/n was dragging James behind her, who seemed slightly alarmed by everyone’s intense enthusiasm. 

Everyone sat on the floor in long, giant rows, fighting for space. The girls were able to push their way to the front, synchronously dancing with the rest of the party people. There, the girls continued their drug conversation, with Y/n and James now joining in.

“Look, Michelle,” Clare said to the girl behind her. “Drugs are illegal, drugs are addictive, and perhaps most importantly, in this country, you can lose your kneecaps if you’re caught doing them. And I like my kneecaps, Michelle; they suit my knees.”

“You do have crackin’ kneecaps, Clare.” Orla smiled at the girl, having to leave to the side and turn her head to look at the blonde.

“Is that true?” James asked, lips close to Y/n’s ear.

“What?” Y/n turned around, almost startled by how James was to her face. “Clare’s kneecaps?”

“No. I mean losing your kneecaps.”

“Oh. Clare’s a bit dramatic, Jamie.” The girl turned back around to face ahead. “But she’s a bit right, I think.”

“What?!”

Before any conversations could continue, a dull but loud thud was heard from a corner of the room. Everyone looked to see Aunt Bridie lying on the floor, with the Quinn family looking at Mary in shock.

***

The next few days felt tense at the Quinn household. It was mainly the teenagers being fearful of Mary, because they believed that she was the reason for her Aunt Bridie’s sudden death and didn’t want to be her next victim. The house had never been so clean and tidy.

“I just cannot believe it.” Mary’s tone was almost flat as she stared off into space, clutching her teacup and rarely ever sipping it.

“Listen, Mary,” Sarah said, sitting in the chair beside her. “No matter what you’ve done, you’re still my sister. I’ll stand by you.”

“I haven’t done anything, Sarah.”

“Exactly, love. Everybody knows you didn’t mean to kill the old boot.” Grandpa Joe paused to take a sip of his coffee. “God rest her soul.”

“I didn’t kill her,” Mary responded, immediately tired of the assumption.

“You know what I mean, not kill.” Joe looked around as if he would find the word he was looking for on the wall. “Hex.”

“I didn’t hex her either, Da.” She said defensively. “It was just a very tragic-”

“My mother, she had the gift too, y’know.” Joe interrupted. “By God, that woman could make her enemies drop like flies.”

“Look, I don’t have any gift,” Mary said, letting go of her teacup to lay her hands flat on the table to show finality and seriousness. “There’s no dark forces at play here. I just said somethin’... unfortunate that happened to-”

“Cause her death?” Sarah asked.

“Coincide with her death.” Mary corrected.

Ah, yes. Mary telling her aunt Bridie to drop dead and then her actually doing it was just an unfortunate coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less.

Meanwhile, at the sink, Y/n dried the last dish that Erin washed and handed it to Orla to put away. The three girls had been working as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Mary. Erin was the first to speak, turning around slowly with a nervous tone.

“Right. Well, that’s the dishes done. Would you like another cup of tea, Mammy?”

As if remembering she even had a cup of tea, Mary looked down at the cup and took a quick sip.

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll just grab the Hoover n’give the stairs a bit of a going over.”

“Aye, and I can sweep the hall and such,” Y/n added, trying to remember the last place she had seen the broom. 

“And I’ll maybe do a bit of dusting,” Orla said.

Mary raised an eyebrow, suspicion of the girls pulling her out of her dazed and solemn mood.

“What’s gotten into you all?” She asked. “What’re you up to? What’s going on?”

“Nothin’!” Erin answered, still seeming a bit scared. “We just thought that we should pull our weight a bit more, Mammy.”

“You do so much for us, Aunt Mary.”

“Aye, Mammy, you deserve a bit of a break.”

“I can’t hex people, girls,” Mary said frustratedly. “It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Gerry waltzed into the kitchen and smiled at his wife. He placed a hand on her shoulder as part of a greeting.

“So, how’s the Wicked Witch of the North West?” The question seemed so loving and innocent. Y/n would’ve laughed if Mary hadn’t seemed like she was actually about to murder someone.

“Who put fifty p in the eedgit?” Joe asked, glaring at Gerry. Gerry looked at him confused, wondering what he had done this time.

Mary groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“God, how am I going to go to this wake?”

“It’ll be grand, love,” Joe said. “But listen, say if things do get heated, try not to rise to it. The last thing we want is another dead body on our hands here.”

Mary stared up at Joe with a blank expression.

“I’ll do my best, Da.”

***

Later that evening, the Quinns and McCools arrived at the wake. Everyone seemed a bit surprised and startled to see Mary, clearly believing the rumors that she had been her Aunt Bridie’s undoing. After a slightly awkward encounter with Eamon, Bridie’s son, the girls escaped everyone by going upstairs to the room that held Bridie herself.

“She really suits bein’ dead, doesn’t she?” Orla said after a good moment of solemn silence, staring down at the woman.

“What?” Erin seemed disturbed by what her cousin had said, but Y/n nodded.

“No, yeah, I agree. I like her better like this.”

“Y/n, she’s dead.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you liked her better living?”

Before Erin could answer, the door to the room opened. The girls turned to see Clare peeking her head through.

“Can we come in?” She asked in a whisper.

“Why are you whispering, Clare?” Y/n asked, tilting her head in confusion. Clare paused, thinking it over.

“I don’t know.”

The rest of the group crowded around Bridie’s casket. Michelle and Clare walked to the end by her feet, and James decided to stand behind Y/n. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder, as if to comfort her, and she raised a hand of her own to lay on his, as if to thank him.

“Thanks for comin’, guys.” Erin sighed, seeming slightly distressed now. “It’s nice to have a bit of support in this very difficult time.” Everyone seemed very confused by the statement. 

“You thought she was a dick,” Michelle said.

“I never said that.”

“You did, Erin,” Orla said.

“I’m pretty sure we all thought she was a dick, but you were the vocal one about it,” Y/n added.

“Aye, I’ve definitely heard you say it,” Clare said.

“Okay, can I just check something?” James asked, clearly focused on something else. The girls looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Everybody else can see the dead body, right?”

Everyone took a glance at the body in question, trying to figure out what the problem was.

“It’s just Bridie, Jamie,” Y/n said.

“It’s Bridie’s corpse.” The boy corrected. “It’s Bridie’s dead corpse.”

“It’s her wake. What were you expectin’?” Michelle asked, rolling her eyes.

“Haven’t you ever seen a dead body before?” Erin asked.

“Of course not!” James nearly yelled, shocked that Erin would even ask such a question. Michelle scoffed.

“Christ, but the English are weird.”

Orla leaned down close to Bridie, taking her face in her hands and looking up at James. She had that childlike but absentminded wonder in her eyes and smile that she always had.

“You can touch her if you want.”

James flinched, moving his hands to Y/n’s hips as he took a slight step back. As he moved back, he maneuvered Y/n to act as a shield between him and the dead body and Orla. James looked at Orla in disgusted shock.

“Why the hell would I want to touch her?” Y/n snorted at James’ suddenly high-pitched voice.

“It’s nice.” Orla smiled brightly.

“Stop it.”

“It’s just a dead body, James,” Clare said in a comforting tone, trying to get him to calm down. “We’re all gonna be one someday.”

“Oh, thanks for that, Clare!” Horrified, James brought Y/n closer until her back was pressed against his front. It was as if everyone else was some sort of strange or bad energy that could only be warded off by Y/n, and she was happy to go along with it. “Yeah, that’s helped!”

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting one of the hands gripping her hips. James relaxed just a bit, but was still weary because of how weird this whole situation was to him. “Calm yourself.”

“It really makes you think, doesn’t it?” Michelle said solemnly, staring at Bridie for a second before looking at the girls. “Death.” She sighed dramatically, and everyone immediately wondered what she was up to this time. “It just… just makes you wanna… do everythin’ and just… try everythin’.”

“What’s going on, Michelle?” Clare asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, what are you on about?” Y/n eyed the girl with a raised brow. Michelle suddenly seemed excited, a stark contrast to her fake grimness.

“Do you wanna see something’ class?” Michelle then threw her purse, which was, for some reason, big and bulky, onto Bridie’s feet. Someone would’ve reprimanded her for disrespecting the deceased by using Bridie as a table, but they were too busy watching her pull a big Tupperware out of her purse. “Prepare yourself, girls.” She then popped the lid off to show what was inside. She looked at her friends excitedly.

“Scones?” Erin asked, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s right.”

“What’s so class about scones?”

“Scones are lovely.” Orla countered, seeming a bit offended by Erin’s uninterest.

“Aye, I like scones.” Clare nodded.

“No, these aren’t any old scones, girls.” Michelle insisted, shaking her head. “These are funny scones.”

“Funny’s the right word, alright,” Y/n said, reaching for one of the scones in the bin to look at it. As she dropped it back in with the rest, she looked at Michelle with a tilt of her head. “What’s so special about ’em?”

“They’re drug scones!” Clare squeaked, pointing urgently at the food. “She’s put the drugs in the scones!”

“Too fuckin’ right, I have,” Michelle said with a grin. “I wanted to do brownies, but this was the only recipe my ma had, so…”

“I don’t think it’s that hard to find a brownie recipe, Michelle,” Y/n said. 

“I’m not goin’ out of my way to find a brownie recipe, Y/n.”

“We talked about this, Michelle. We agreed.” Clare said, bringing the conversation back to the drugs.

“No, we didn’t,” Michelle argued. “Anyway, drugs aren’t illegal when you put them into food. Everybody knows that.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Michelle,” Y/n said.

“Is that right?” James asked sarcastically, almost glaring with bewilderment at his cousin. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

Just then, the door opened, and everybody froze. An old woman walked in, and the girls quickly recognized her as one of the caterers for the wake.

“Any cups up here?” She asked, walking towards them while looking around. She spotted the tub, and before anyone could stop her, she reached out and grabbed it. “I’ll take that.” The woman said simply before leaving the room.

Everyone stared at where the scones had once been, panic running through them all.

“What the fuck just happened?” Michelle asked the room. Y/n looked at the girl with wide eyes.

“I believe a caterer just took your funny fuckin’ scones to give out at our great Aunt Bridie’s wake, Michelle.”

After another moment of feeling frozen, everyone went downstairs as fast as possible without drawing attention. Defeated and not knowing what to do, the girls sat down on the steps. As they settled, they watched Joe pass by with one of the scones in hand.

“What are we gonna do?” Clare asked frantically.

“It’s fine,” Michelle said shortly. But everyone could tell she was just as panicked as the rest.

“It’s definitely not fine!” Clare hissed. “There’s drug scones down there. People’ll eat the drug scones, then we’ve drugged those people, Michelle.”

“Our granda included.” Y/n butted in, resting her chin on the top of James’ head, who was sitting on one of the steps just below her. “Lord knows what’ll happen to him.”

“So?” Michelle said, clearly worried but trying to seem aloof. “Drugging people isn’t a crime.”

“You’ve a very loose grasp of the law, Michelle,” James said, rubbing at his eyes in disbelief and exhaustion.

“What kind of person brings hash scones to a wake?” Erin asked with a scowl. Michelle scoffed.

“Typical.” She said. “I try to do a nice thing, and this is the thanks I get.”

“A nice thing?” Y/n repeated in disbelief, turning back to look at Michelle. “Oh yeah, how nice. Let’s all get hopped up illegally at a wake. Oh, wait. We can’t, because someone took your stupid scones!”

“It’s terrible,” Clare added, sounding as panicked and scared as usual. “There’s old people down there; what if an old person takes one?”

“Why does everyone get so sentimental about old people?” Michelle asked. “Old people are arseholes.” 

“We’ve got to get ’em back, girls,” Erin said, starting to get scared of the thought of any of her family having a funny scone.

“Look, I’m not disagreeing with you. I bought that stuff so I could get high, not your great Uncle Colm.”

“Oh Christ, I didn’t even think about that,” Y/n muttered. Colm was already a character to begin with; him being high as balls would probably turn him either more boring or unmanageable. Y/n stood up and faced the girls. “Here’s the plan. I’ll head to the kitchen to grab whatever’s left. The rest of you go and find the ones that people have taken and pray that they haven’t taken a bite yet.”

“And remember, girls,” Erin said, standing up with her sister. “Be subtle.” Everyone nodded and split up to do their tasks.

Y/n went to the kitchen and quietly crept to the swinging door. She took a quick look, saw that the few people inside were occupied with different things, and carefully walked in. She was surprised to see her father ranting about cross-contamination and using different bowls. Y/n wondered if he had been roped into helping in the kitchen, but whether he was forced or had volunteered, she smiled at the sight of his sudden passion.

Y/n spotted the scones, about half the amount from the last time she saw them, now plated on a serving platter. While reaching for the plate, the door opened behind her.

“Now listen here, you.” Y/n flinched and turned around quickly, recognizing the voice to be her granda Joe. But he wasn’t looking at her. As usual, he directed his pointed look to Gerry, who looked at his father-in-law, both confused and annoyed.

“Yes, Joe?”

“I just wanna say…” Joe trailed off, getting closer to Gerry and putting a hand on his shoulder. Gerry and Y/n looked at the old man in bewilderment when he laughed. “I think you’re doing a fine job.” Then he patted Gerry’s cheek before turning around and walking out of the kitchen. “Keep up the good work.”

Gerry and Y/n turned their shocked stares to each other once Joe was out of the room. The only thing that broke their eye contact was a timer going off, which somehow snapped Gerry back into his working mode. Using the opportunity of her dad’s distractedness, Y/n swiped the platter and walked out.

The girl soon realized that she and her friends never agreed on a place to meet after retrieving the scones. But not wanting anyone to see her wander around with a platter of scones, she snuck back upstairs, where she was surprised to see James slowly wandering the hallway.

“Hey,” Y/n said with relief, glad it was him instead of a stranger. Or worse, her mother.

“Hey.” He smiled at her, holding up a scone as he walked closer to her. “Found your uncle Colm with this.” He sat the scone on top of the others.

“Thank God you got it before he took a bite.” Y/n laughed lightly, James joining in. “Were you just waiting for someone to come up?”

“Yeah, I thought being up here would be better than wandering around where everyone else was.”

“Smart.” Y/n nodded once, looking around the empty hall. “What do you suppose we do about all of these?”

The two thought for a moment, racking their brains for an idea. James suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Remember when you snuck over to mine that one night, and we watched Goodfellas?”

“Aye, Ray Liotta was a dream, wasn’t he?”

“Sure.” James rolled his eyes at the comment. “But do you remember how Karen got rid of the drugs?”

Y/n took a quick second to think about whether or not she did, in fact, remember. The most memorable things of the night she snuck over to James’ were Ray Liotta, the snacks James had snuck up to his room, and kissing each other to keep loud talking or laughs from gaining the attention of the rest of the household.

“You think it’ll work?” Y/n asked once she remembered what James was talking about. “I mean, these are scones.”

“What other options do we have?” James asked. And to be honest, Y/n couldn’t think of any.

The sound of a knob turning startled the two teens. They scrambled to hide the stolen platter of scones behind them just before the bathroom door a bit down the hall opened up. A middle-aged woman that Y/n barely recognized walked out, and Y/n and James smiled politely at her as she passed.

Once she was down the stairs, James and Y/n ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“Let’s just wait for the others here,” Y/n said, balancing the platter on the sink so she wouldn’t have to hold it any longer. “So… what d’ya wanna do?”

It took a few seconds of silence before Y/n and James rushed at each other, quickly becoming a mess of tangled limbs and clashing lips. The couple rarely had time alone for things like this, the heat of the moment always being ignored because of the fear of being caught. But with a locked door, a few minutes of making out couldn’t do much harm.

Y/n’s hands buried themselves into James’ curls, tugging at them as he backed her into the wall next to the door. A hand cupped the back of her neck while the other stayed gripped on her waist, keeping her in place. Not that she’d want to leave.

James’ lips strayed away from Y/n’s, leaving featherlight kisses across her cheek and jaw before settling on her neck. The hand on Y/n’s neck pulled back her hair, giving James the access he needed to nip and suck lightly at the sensitive skin just below Y/n’s ear.

“Are you marking me?” She asked, breath hitching. She wasn’t opposing the matter, far from it, really. But she was a bit surprised to have this kind of behavior coming from James.

“Just a bit.” He replied breathlessly, kissing the slightly sore spot before returning to Y/n’s lips. “For a bit of fun, y’know?” Y/n giggled. She was lucky that she could probably hide the soon-to-be mark by keeping her hair down.

“Sure, just a bit of fun.” She replied, pecking James’ lips a few times.

The two were able to get themselves straightened out just before the rest of the girls found them. They closed the door behind them, and James caught them all up on the plan.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Michelle sighed as she and the rest of the group broke apart the scones and dropped the crumbled bits into the toilet. “It’s fuckin’ heartbreaking.”

“Believe me, Michelle, it’s better this way,” Y/n said, grabbing another laced scone. “Granda’s had one, and now he’s acting, like, really fuckin’ weird.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“He was nice to Daddy.” The group made noises of shock and disbelief. “Exactly. And if Mammy starts asking questions…”

“You’re Ma won’t trace it back to us.”

“Are you serious?” Erin asked Michelle. “She traces everything back to us. She traces things we haven’t even done back to us!”

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Clare asked James.

“This is how you get rid of drugs, Clare.” He said confidently, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s had to do this. “I’ve seen Goodfellas, like, twenty times.”

“Aye, good movie,” Y/n commented as she brushed her hands on her jeans to get rid of the crumbs that stuck to her nervously sweaty palms. 

“That’s not the only way.” Orla countered. “I watched this film once about this girl who was tryin’ to hide drugs, and what she did was she shoved them right up her—”

“I’m not sticking a scone up my hole, Orla.” Michelle hissed. Orla shrugged, raising her hands in defense.

Once everyone was done breaking down the scones, Clare sighed, seeming as nervous and panicked as always.

“Okay, I’m gonna flush.” She did so, and everyone watched as not much happened. “Is it working?”

“‘Course it’s working,” James said, still sure of his plan.

But then the water started to rise, and everyone started to panic.

“Jesus Christ!” Erin yelped in a high-pitched voice. “Why is the water rising, James?”

“I don’t know! The water didn’t rise in Goodfellas!”

“We’ve clogged it.”

“Who has a plunger?” Orla asked, seeming to be the most calm of the group.

“I’m afraid I left the house without me plunger tonight, Orla,” Erin replied, clearly sarcastic. 

“Aye, me too,” Orla replied seriously. “Nightmare, so it is.”

The toilet started flooding faster, and the girls scrambled around in a panic. Scone water was beginning to spill onto the floor, and everyone had to stop themselves from gagging as they tried to find a way to clean it up. This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Dear God…” Everyone whipped around to see the adults of the Quinn and McCool families, plus Bridie’s son, Eamon. Erin laughed nervously, deciding to be the one to find an excuse.

“It looks worse than it is.” Was all she said, which really wasn’t much of an excuse.

“My mother was right about you people,” Eamon said, horrified and angry. “Wild animals have more manners.”

“We didn’t have a plunger, Eamon!” Orla shouted.

“Get out!” He yelled. “Get out!”

The teens did so gladly, running out of the bathroom and out of the house. They gathered on the front lawn, and they couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the evening. But they still feared what would happen when Mary walked out.

“The night wasn’t all that bad, I think,” James said quietly, only Y/n being able to hear him. She looked up at him curiously.

“How so?”

Instead of speaking, he raised his hand to cup her neck, gently tapping where he had bruised her. She gasped, pushing his hand away before the two of them fell into laughter, not caring about the confused looks their friends gave them.

“I’ll see you Monday, then?” He asked when they had calmed down a bit. Y/n caught a glimpse of her mother leaving the house before she answered.

“If I live that long.”

~~~

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[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets V

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

The good news if you're still liking this story: we're gonna squeeze one more part out of this series. Hope you're still enjoying. Thank you for reading.

~7.5k words (she's a bit longer. Got a lot going on and I think she gets kinda messy like all the relationships here.)

Warnings: angst, toxic relationships, maybe a little fluff.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

She didn’t tell Niall about the kiss. She thought it wouldn’t do any good at all. Especially because Niall would threaten to kill Harry and she wasn’t fully sure he even knew how to make a fist. Plus, with his impending year-long move, it seemed like too much to put on his plate at the time.

But when he eventually found out, she imagined he would be pretty mad at her. So, it took her a really long time to decide not to tell him. Especially while they were spending practically every waking moment together. Fortunately, that allowed her to refrain from think about Harry for seven days straight.

Or...more so... not think about him that much. With eyes the color of muted emeralds it was like her mind was on a yellow brick road right back to him whenever she had a moment of time to think about something other than her unending heartbreak.

She was careful to rearrange her laundry schedule so as not to run into him. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Once she saw him coming in from the rainy wind and she darted into the mail room just to avoid him. It was childish and stupid, running from him like that. But she couldn’t help it. Seeing him would make her cave.

But you want to be friends with him. Her heart reminded her.

I don’t care, she responded internally.

Even I know that’s a lie, her brain grumbled in response.

Work provided her great distraction as well. Sad, of course— because what else was supposed to happen in her life these days? —but it was a distraction, nonetheless. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead looking over her schedule for the next day, thinking about what needed to be accomplished, what activities she needed to print in the morning, and priorities she needed to complete.

She really needed to go grocery shopping.

She had spent most of her last nights with Niall eating out or getting takeaway while they packed his stuff. He was subletting to a friend for the year. Mostly to hold his place. The Missus would be traveling overseas to be with Niall by the end of next month, which was extremely exciting for their relationship. “Looks like I’ll be all by myself at thirty-five,” she joked in with him labeling cardboard boxes as kitchen.

Niall smirked. “M’sure I can convince her that we can be a throuple,” he winked at her.

“Sorry Ni, I hate sharing,” she smirked knowing the idea was truer than he would know for a while. She planned on telling him within the first couple of months—once he was a little settled and she was surely over it.

Plus, she wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t come flying back before he unpacked.

But Niall was officially in flight. She was watching her phone making sure his flight didn’t suddenly fall off the radar or that it didn’t indicate it was exploding mid-flight. He was going to call her as soon as he landed. She was third on the list after his girlfriend and mother and was not to panic unless it approached an hour of waiting for his call. Those were her instructions.

Timing her grocery shopping was exactly what she needed at that moment.

If she had gotten the parking spot she wanted, it might not have happened. If Niall had called two seconds earlier, she would have been answering her phone outside instead of in the lobby. She would have been in the elevator. Or she would have stopped for the mail and wouldn’t have been juggling the bags and her phone.

But instead, everything happened at once. She wanted to ensure Niall was there safely, so she struggled to answer her phone with the groceries attached to her arms.

“Hey, Ni! How was your—”

Before she could finish her question, the phone was knocked from her hands almost violently along with the bags of groceries she was carrying. Naturally it contained her eggs. She stumbled a bit nearly sliding ungraciously in the cracked egg mixture on the floor. Her phone skittered across the floor near the entry way to the mail cubby’s.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” it was the beautiful woman who felt she was in the way in the mail space back when she first moved in. She was just as beautiful as the last time she ran into her. Her hair was long and flowing, her eyelashes would make an angel jealous, if she smiled—and she realized it seemed like it would take an act of God to get her to smile—she imagined she had perfect teeth that were hidden behind her pretty full lips.

She scrambled to get to her feet, her leggings getting egg yolk on them. Thank God she bought paper towels as well.

“Ava! What the fuck?”

It was pathetic that she knew Harry’s voice without looking. She was struggling to get the paper towels out of the plastic. She could hear Niall calling from her phone a few feet away from the mess as she struggled to get her items that weren’t broken back into the bags. She desperately wanted to answer Niall, but she was practically mute. “She was in the way!”

“Ava!” Harry hissed.

“For God’s sake Harry. You’re always worried about everyone else around us but me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Harry turned from Ava to glare at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat feeling like she had done something bad. It was the first time she had seen Harry in a week, and he looked...

Exhausted.

She wished she could ask him a thousand questions because even though she felt terrible about what she had done, she missed Harry more than she could ever describe. Niall was no longer yelling. She wondered if he hung up. At least she knew he was alive. Hopefully he wasn’t boarding a plane right back.

“I’ll be right out,” Harry snapped as Ava rolled her eyes and headed out the door. It could only have been a total of two minutes, but it felt like hours between the moment Ava bumped into her and the present. It felt like a front of cold air left the room the moment Ava exited. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief—almost the same one that Harry released as she left.

The room was silent. She heard Niall calling from her phone again and she finally grabbed it, trying not to get more egg yolk on her hands and none in her hair if she could help it.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, his voice hitching nervously.

“Niall, I’m so sorry. I’ll call you back in like...half an hour,” she whispered.

“Are you telling me that the Wicked Witch of the West is Harry’s girlfriend? I cannot believe you apologize to her,” he spoke without answering her statement. “No wonder he spends all his time doing laun—”

She hung up before he could say anymore just in case Harry could hear. She hadn’t mentioned the break they had embarked upon to Niall. If he said anything, she could easily say that his move had monopolized the entire week and it worked because she found out he had a girlfriend. She just wouldn’t say how she found out he had a girlfriend.

Of course, someone as beautiful as Ava would be with someone like Harry. Someone equally beautiful. They would make gorgeous children. Take the most perfect pictures. It made sense that the pair of them would be in a relationship.

Except Harry is nice and she is wicked. The voice in her head and her heart agreed.

“Christ, love. M’sorry,” he whispered softly.

It was the first time they had spoken since she told him they couldn’t see each other for a while. That they couldn’t be friends. His voice was so gentle and warm. She couldn’t believe that in just over a week she craved hearing it. It felt like she was basking in the sun. But she shouldn’t have been thinking like that. It was also...jarring...to hear the difference in his tone between how he had spoken to Ava compared to how he was speaking to her.

“It’s okay,” she murmured finally getting a swath of paper towels to clean up the mess. “I was in the way.”

Harry knelt beside her pulling the roll of paper towels from her hands with an exasperated sigh, leaving his lips again as he started to help clean up. “Y’weren’t, though,” he mumbled.

She shrugged trying to ignore the crazy beat of her heart being so close to him again. It was just a week, but it felt like years since she had seen him, but also like no time had passed at all. As if they hadn’t stopped speaking and this was nearly normal.

“You don’t have to help,” she said. “I’m sure she’s waiting.”

“She can wait,” he grumbled.

“Harry.”

“I’ll get y’some eggs while we’re out,” he promised.

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her cheeks warming.

“Yes, it is, I would buy y’some new leggings too if—”

“I’ll just wash them, seriously.”

They were quiet. Harry grabbed the trash can that was over by the elevator and dumped the paper towels in. They cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. But she could tell from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t apologizing for just the spill.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He sighed the frustration evident on his face, in his body language, and in the way he was breathing. “Harry,” she whispered quietly pressing a hand to his arm. “It’s alright,” she promised. It was ridiculous she was comforting him. She doesn’t even know how Ava bumped into her. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t like how guilty Harry felt. He looked at her hand on his arm for a moment and she pulled it away after a gentle, comforting squeeze. “You should go,” she smiled gently at him. A slight wrinkle of her cute nose.

“M’really sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s just eggs,” she shrugged. “It’s okay.”

He nodded. They both knew it was more than eggs. It was kissing in the laundry room behind Ava’s back. No matter how wicked she seemed, it wasn’t okay.

Even if she’s the worst? Her heart asked internally.

I’m on your side this time. Her brain answered.

She ignored them both. “M’sorry,” he repeated. “See you around...I guess,” he murmured. Just like before.

Her heart felt a pang of sadness course through her and she watched him exit, glancing back just once to give her a tired wave. She felt tired, too. Tired of hiding her emotions and tired of missing Harry.

But that would have to wait because she really wanted to get out of her clothes covered in egg yolks.

*

“I can’t believe you apologized.”

Niall’s face was backlit by the dark evening of his surroundings. His new place was sparse since none of his stuff had arrived yet. But somehow his move was overshadowed by the insanity that took place that afternoon.

“I don’t know, Ni...” she sighed.

“I...I don’t think you should count Harry out yet... Obviously, he’s doing laundry because he’s miserable.”

“That’s not an excuse for flirting,” she grumbled. Maybe Niall wouldn’t be upset with Harry when she told him.

“No of course not, princess. But like...” he sighed. “That girl is a witch. I wasn’t kidding...I can see why he would want to flirt with someone pretty and nice like you.”

She felt her face warm at Niall’s assessment when there was a knock on her door. “Hang on.”

“The theme for today.”

She went to the door just in time to see the elevator closing. On the floor mat was a paper bag. A frowny face was drawn in black marker. She felt her heart flutter already knowing what was inside the bag. She opened it anyway. There she found a dozen eggs beneath a pair of folded leggings with the tag intact and a receipt. She sighed looking at the elevator already long gone.

She returned to her phone call. “S’that Harry?” Niall asked.

“Probably,” she muttered.

“Probably?”

“He left a bag of eggs. And a new pair of leggings.”

“Wow, he guessed your clothing size. He must be in love with you.”

She shook her head wishing what he said was true. “Niall, stop.”

He sighed. “I miss you already, darling.”

She smiled weakly. “I miss you too.”

“You should come visit before the year’s out. Show you around my old neighborhood.”

She nodded, wishing she could hug her best friend right then, through the phone screen. “I’d like that.”

“Have a good rest of your day, princess.”

*

It was a public space. Unavoidable. They were definitely going to run into each other. It was a matter of when not if. When Harry arrived, a full basket on his hip, he turned at the sight of her. The hammering of her heart didn’t stop her from sighing deeply.

“Wait...It’s a free country,” she mumbled and shrugged her assent. No use in monopolizing communal space. She was an adult and could handle the pair of them doing laundry at the same time. As long as she didn’t think about his mouth and how it tasted like mint gum and heaven.

Hesitantly, he picked a different washer than he normally did, a few spaces down from her rather than across from her.  They didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. Her heart rate felt like it was a hummingbird’s wing. It felt so warm in the laundry room.

Talk to him! Her heart was whispering.

Do not talk to him. Her brain protested.

She was fortunate the laundry covered her awkward huff of laughter listening to the battle she was feeling internally. Harry didn’t seem to register it. Maybe they would just never speak again.

*

It seemed like that would be the case as far as she could tell. She had lost count how many times they had sat silently reading and waiting for their laundry loads to finish.

Harry was once more in the laundry room at the same time as her. She essentially ignored his presence for the sake of her heart and mind. Although, she felt her heart would be grateful if she started talking to him again. It had been two weeks since the eggs incident. Three weeks since they agreed to not see each other anymore.

The only chattering interaction they had was a few days ago when Harry obviously forgot laundry detergent after he had thrown all his stuff into the washer. Naturally, the little dispensary was empty, again. Unlike the last time he checked it, he didn’t punch the side of the machine. Instead, he just sighed heavily, grumbling to himself.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

“Oh...thanks, love.”

She wondered if Harry felt the spark of electricity that pierced her skin when Harry’s hand touched hers grabbing the jug from her.

He did.

*

“You probably think m’an idiot.”

She was literally trying to reach into the dryer to grab the sock that had clung with static to the back of the machine when she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she heard him. There was no denying how excited she was to hear his voice. She pulled herself out of the machine and turned to him. “What?” She asked her eyebrows pinching together. It was a weird way to enter a room, let alone start a conversation. Especially after what she would have to call a breakup for lack of a better term.

“For being with someone like Ava,” he started to pace along the length of the machines. He ran his hands through his hair making a mess of the curls. She thought her heart might break. She had experienced this kind of frustration firsthand. “Everyone says it. That they think m’stupid. That she’s awful and I should ‘ve broken up with her ages ago...” he mumbled. She frowned. “But...we’ve been together for s’long and—"

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she interrupted quickly. Her voice was even, and he nearly bumped into the back wall as he spun to look at her. She was holding a pair of sweatpants in her hands, but she was making specific, intense eye contact with Harry. Even if she shouldn’t be talking to him. She didn’t want him to think that she thought poorly of him.

“Y’don’t?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s no one’s business but yours and Ava’s,” her name tasted bad in her mouth, but she knew it was because it was coated with jealousy. She didn’t have to like Ava, but that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t. Harry also liked her. It seemed pretty obvious. She can’t imagine him not liking her and nearly ruining his relationship with Ava. She knew she was different than Ava. Maybe she was willing to believe that Harry saw good in people. She did the same thing. It would be hypocritical of her to not understand Harry’s plight when she suffered from the very same thing for nearly three years as well.

He stopped pacing and moved to his regular washer. He perched on top and watched her fold her laundry for a few moments. It was like before he ruined everything with a kiss. He wished he had listened to the little voice in his head all those months leading up to the kiss. Of course, it was right. Of course. She didn’t pay mind to Harry sitting there.

“Can we be friends?” He asked quietly. “Please?”

Niall had left for a year. Her family didn’t really live all that close. Her coworkers, while great people, were work friends. Everyone she worked with dealt with very sensitive cases and that had a lot of emotion. If they saw each other outside of work, she worried it would carry over too heavily, all that weighty emotion.

She could really use a friend.

But she wasn’t sure Harry wasn’t the right friend. She messed up, even though Harry had owned up to the mistake. She was part of it, and she worried that if she was friends with Harry, it would be a slippery slope to fall for someone she shouldn’t.

“I promise I won’t kiss y’again,” he murmured. As if he had read her mind. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mistakes happen,” she shrugged. “I just don’t—”

“Sunshine,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. But it wasn’t a mistake. I shouldn’t have called it that. Kissing you was like...breathing fresh air for the first time in...years.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could do something about it. “You can’t stay stuff like that.”

There was an antagonizing pause while he thought this over. “I won’t bring it up again,” he promised.

There’s no harm in being friends. Her heart was whispering to her. You’re a great friend.

She looked at him for the first time, head on. He was already looking at her. His pretty green eyes. She knew his pretty pink lips were soft and warm. She knew his skin was warm too. Her heart skipped a beat. “We can be friends,” she said softly.

He sighed with relief and hurried over to wrap his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly. “Missed y’so much,” he mumbled into her hair.

Oh, this was a mistake. The voice in her head tutted.

Let it happen. I miss Niall. Her heart reminded the voice in response.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and dropped the pair of socks she had in her hands on the floor so she could hug him back. Please don’t let this be a mistake.

*

They resumed their reading and chatting relationship as if the few weeks spent not talking hadn’t happened. Harry watched her fold laundry as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. It didn’t help that he thought she was the most amazing thing in the world.

You need to relax.His conscience was back, analyzing his every movement and every word he spoke to the pretty girl.

I have a handle on it. He thought back to the little voice. It was just the laundry room. At most it was an hour of a day that they spent chatting together. Or even not chatting when they had books.

“How’s work been?” He asked, trying to fill the silence for a moment.

He also wanted to fill the silence so he wouldn’t hug her again. He refrained from touching her after that because it felt so right and good. It made him feel whole. So maybe, Harry refrained from it. She seemed to have no problem compartmentalizing the moment that nearly ruined their friendship.

Which would have been a travesty because she was a really good friend. “It’s good. One of my patients got some good news so we’ve been navigating that, and it’s been really exciting because they’ve been dealing with struggles for a super long time,” she explained.

“That’s great,” he smiled. It felt nice to talk to her again. He was glad she was doing okay.

Harry was doing alright too. Work was normal and good. But he and Ava seemed to be fighting less and less. Which was great for his anger and his psyche. It allowed him to think about how he shouldn’t have kissed this lovely girl too. Even if he couldn’t tell her that.

Harry wasn’t intentionally mean-spirited. So, he didn’t bring up Ava unless she inquired.

“Can I ask a question that’s been bugging me?” She asked. He nodded. He was an open book with her. He had to be now. “Did you tell her?”

It was no use lying, but Harry kind of wanted to lie to her. He shook his head. “No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that Harry didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to be a thing. “Are you...going to?”

He shook his head silently. He knew that was wrong. Of course, he should have told Ava. But what good would come from it? Telling her that she made him miserable. Especially when they had been getting along better than they had in months...maybe even years.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“I know, love. I know...s’jus’—”

“I’m not judging you, I’m sure you have a reason. I don’t have to know it, but...I think it will eat at you,” she reminded him. “I didn’t tell my ex-boyfriend I wanted out of our relationship for over a year, and it made me...a mess,” she explained. “I know it’s hard, I just don’t want you to...be a mess.”

“Little late for that,” he muttered.

She giggled lightly. Harry thought it sounded like angels singing. “I won’t bring it up again,” she shrugged. “Your secret is safe with me, that’s for sure.”

“I imagine Niall wants t’kill me.” The silence was deafening as she ignored the insinuation that she told Niall about it. “Oh?” He smirked in surprise. “Y’don’t gossip over who y’kiss?”

She shook her head. “No... Niall...Niall moved for the year—maybe longer, for work. Overseas. I didn’t want to add more to his plate... and no: I didn’t want him to kill you. Not sure he would know how.”

“Oh, Sunshine. M’sorry,” he frowned. Losing her best friend for a while must have been really hard. He hadn’t spoke to her in three weeks and it felt like death. He had only known her a short while and she had known Niall almost half her life. “When did that happen?”

She smirked. “Uh...the day we stopped talking.” Harry took a moment to process that, and his frown deepened. He knew how sad that day was for him. But he would never forget the tears she shed and the way she looked so upset. Add losing her best friend? The poor thing. Harry’s heart broke all over again. “I do want to tell him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t blame you.”

It was surreal to talk about it as if it had happened but also didn’t happen at the same time. He thought her brain was much too kind. Letting Harry keep secrets. “How...how is Ava?”

He snorted. “Sunshine, y’don’t have t’do that. M’sure s’hard...I mean I feel—”

“No,” she shook her head tamping down the jealousy that felt like hot air rising from her chest and out of her mouth. “No, this is what friends do. They ask about their friends’ significant others.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah...um...s’good. We’ve been arguing less.”

“That’s great!” But her heart felt like it was severing in half.

“I don’t know what causes the arguments sometimes. Contrary t’some of m’actions...m’a pretty smart guy,” he shrugged. She smiled sweetly at his insult toward himself thinking it was adorable. At least he knew he was an idiot. “S’weird though. I feel like she doesn’t like me the way she used to. But s’like we’re...stuck.”

She nodded. “Well...in my last relationship, I felt like I was stuck for over a year and I just...I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I hit rock bottom, though. Niall had to get me out.”

There was a huge pause. She went back to reading her book. This wasn’t unusual for their conversations. Harry needed time to process, think about what he wanted to say. But he was thinking about this past relationship of hers. In the three or so times she had spoken about it... it didn’t sound like something the embodiment of sunshine should have had to endure. Someone that liked a children’s fairy tale as much as she did, didn’t deserve a crummy relationship. Or a crummy guy like Harry kissing her out of nowhere. “S’horrible of me t’talk ‘bout this t’you,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I did a whole round of clinical counseling on relationships. I’m actually probably the best person to talk about this to,” she smiled behind her book. Her eyes glinted with excitement, like she knew it was torturing Harry a bit.

Good for her. His little voice muttered.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Friends talk about their relationships,” she nodded. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I would tell you if I was uncomfortable.”

Harry wanted to tell her he was uncomfortable not kissing her and not holding her right this very second. He knew it was wrong and he was glad that she couldn’t read his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t fair to Ava either. Ava was making serious efforts to be nicer. It was...bizarre.

Explore that. Harry’s heart suggested.

“Listen,” she sighed. “Do you want to break up with her?”

Harry frowned and looked at his lap. He couldn’t look at her when talked about this. No matter how okay she said it was. He shook his head.

He didn’t. He didn’t want people to say I told you so. He didn’t want to think about all the time that he had wasted. But it wasn’t a waste, right? It was good for a while. Even still had good in it, sometimes. Sparingly. Was that a reason to stay? To prove to people it was okay? That he was okay? For the few good times they had together anymore, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But he couldn’t bring himself to think differently.

“Then you’ll make it work,” she shrugged. “If and when you want to break up, that’s when you’ll know.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t speak again for a while. They enjoyed their books. “Y’said your parents don’t love each other,” he murmured randomly.

She nodded sullenly. “I feel that way. I would imagine they do... but it’s hard to see as an outsider.”

Harry thought he knew exactly what that looked like. “Do you want them t’get divorced?” He asked.

She put her book in her lap and looked at the ceiling in thought. She tilted her head to the left and right contemplating such a loaded question. It seemed obvious. Of course, she did. They were miserable together.

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I do...or...I do but... I think I would be really sad if they did. It’s kind of selfish of me. But you know... they have a complicated relationship. They’ve been together for a lot longer than I’ve been alive... I don’t know everything about them. Who knows,” she shrugged. “I think their love language is fighting. That’s all.”

More silence.

When her washer went off and she was switching over to the dryer, Harry thought about kissing her again. Just to make the hurt in her life go away. Even for a minute. She deserved that. “Do you have a fried cauliflower recipe?” She asked.

He looked up and smirked. “Y’gonna be a big girl and try something new?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. M’trying something new all the time these days.”

*

Being friends was a dream. Even if their friendship didn’t leave the laundry room. She gave great advice. Even better recipes. Fantastic book recommendations. She even had good recommendations to things in town that Harry hadn’t tried yet. He had no idea there was a mom-and-pop bookstore just two streets over. The late night café had delicious coffee and peppermint hot chocolate.

It was easy to be friends. There was no arguing. Not real arguing. They still argued about her ten-year-old taste buds and his failure to see why Andrew Garfield was better. Their debates while meaningless (she had joked that she was coming up with weird debates for her patients to relieve the seriousness of their situations—so now she had to live with the knowledge that Harry thought cereal was a soup), were fun. It was fun hanging out with her. Not arguing over socks or keys. Or whether they were arguing too much.

She tossed her last pair of socks in her basket with a giggling sigh. They had just finished a fit of laughter after impersonating one of the jokes she heard on a late night talk show. “Okay, well, see you soon. Let me know how you like the bakery.”

He nodded. Biting the inside of his lip. “Hey Sunshine,” he called softly just as she hit the threshold of the room.

“Yeah?” She turned back. She didn’t like the way her stomach flipped over his nicknames but it seemed that her protests wouldn’t stop him. She just had to hope Harry called everyone nicknames. Maybe he called everyone Sunshine and kitten.

But she kind of hoped he didn’t either.

“Thanks for being my friend,” his voice was almost apologetic, like he knew it was hard for her. It was. But she liked to believe she was good at hiding it. But after spending so much time with Harry, it was hard to let him go. He was a really good friend.

“Yeah, of course, Harry,” she smiled softly.

“I miss when y’called me munchkin, kitten,” he frowned looking down at his lap.

She released a long sigh, wishing she could get those days back. “Yeah...” she sighed. “I miss it too.”

*

Harry and Ava fought less, that much was obvious. But granted, if they had one less fight in one day per week, that would have been less than what they had before. However, this was a little more substantial. Ava was snuggling up to Harry again at night and sharing the remote. They watched shows together and laughed. It felt like before...before they fought all the time.

But it was...weird. It wasn’t something Harry could put his finger on. It was just something he felt. Like something wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind—the conscience that was so adamantly against the sweet girl in the laundry room was silent about the weird feeling Harry had in the pit of his stomach.

It was while Ava slept that he thought about it most. It wasn’t good but the privacy of his own thoughts had to be better than the physical alternative. He thought of that kiss and how perfect it felt. He imagined it a thousand times over. Harry never even thought about how it was nice—it was so intertwined with how wrong it was he didn’t get a chance to think of it as...perfect.

Why do you want to be in this relationship? His heart asked.

Tell. Ava. His conscience begged.

Harry didn’t see the point. They just got back to a good place. He was friends with the sweet girl. Things were going well.

Too well.

*

Again, they were fighting less. They still had arguments that devolved into a thousand other little arguments frequently enough that they should have called it quits anyway—or at least their neighbors should have said something. He guessed that the carpeting and soundproofing must have been much better than he gave it credit for.

But there were some things they would always fight over.

Harry never put the kitchen towel back on the oven handle, Ava was the first one to say something needed to be vacuumed but never did, and that Ava was still keeping Harry away from her friends, coworkers, and even her family.

Right now, Ava was headed out to a night with friends. But she let it slip that one of the other’s significant others would be there. “Y’want me to come along?” He asked. Her hesitation was all the answer that Harry needed. He chuckled dryly. “Great, y’don’t want me there. Fine.”

“It’s not that deep, Harry,” she rolled her eyes, she slid her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.

Harry stood in front of the door. “Why don’t y’want me there?” He asked shaking his head in exasperation.

“Because I don’t want to fight in public, Harry. It’s embarrassing.”

“We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t trust us not to. Look we’re fighting now.”

“Because you’re embarrassed by me!”

“I am not! I’m embarrassed by us!”

“Y’don’t want t’be seen with me Ava,” he said listing off the offenses by counting on his fingers. “Ever. Y’don’t take me t’your work parties, y’don’t want t’go out, y’don’t even take me t’your family anymore. Y’don’t want t’go anywhere with me,” he shook his head. “I don’t get it, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Her voice was practically hysterical. “I just want to do things by myself!”

“We never do anything together anymore!”

“Yes, we do!”

“No, we stay at home. You don’t want to go out you don’t want anyone t’see us!”

“I don’t trust us not to argue—”

But it devolved rapidly. It turned into the same tired fights about cleaning. The backhanded comments she made when Harry wore a shirt she didn’t like anymore. You’re wearing that? Or the way that they just never agreed on home décor or even where the toothpaste belonged (on the left or the right of the sink).

“I can’t find my phone,” she grumbled amidst the argument.

“For the love of God,” Harry sighed. “How do y’consistently lose these things?”

“I don’t mean to!” She frowned. He pulled his phone out to call it. “It’s on silent,” she murmured.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Harry sighed and tossed his phone on the sofa. “Did y’check your coat pockets?” He asked as he started searching under the furniture. “Or your purse?”

“Of course I checked there!”

“Well last time you didn’t check your coat and that’s where y’keys were—”

“Go ahead, call me stupid Harry. I know that’s what you’re trying to say,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at him. Again, Harry was searching through their whole place while she stood there antagonizing him.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ava. I think you’re forgetful and y’need t’put these things in a specific place so you don’t lose them.”

“No, you think I’m stupid.”

“Ava. Do not. Put words in my mouth,” his voice was low and slow as he continued his search. “S’not like y’don’t say backhanded things t’me all the time.”

“Like what?” She snapped.

“Like the whole laundry room makes m’clothes smell bad.”

“You can’t possibly be still on about this! For God’s sake Harry this is exactly why I don’t want to go places together! You hold these grudges and bring them up when it’s convenient for you to—”

If Harry was asked for his thought process, he never would be able to explain it. He was flinging the covers back to their bed. Still searching for her phone. She followed him in the room to continue yelling at him. Then he saw her pull her phone from her purse. The one she assured him was not in her bag. It was simply too much.

“I did something bad,” he blurted. Where did that come from? His conscience must have been excited. The yelling stopped. There was a hum in the air like after an old TV turned off and the picture sizzled off screen.

She grinned wickedly. Harry felt his blood ice over. It was like he already knew what she was going to say. “How pathetic. You fucked someone. Good for you Harry. Honestly.”

“What is the matter with you?” He spat back shaking his head. “I—”

“Well, now I don’t have to feel guilty.”

The ear-piercing silence was as if his ear drums exploded. It was painful to process those words.

Harry stared at her, unblinking. Surely, he misheard her. There was no way she was justifying what Harry said to make herself feel better. He heard her wrong. She wouldn’t do that, there had to be a limit. Their relationship, no matter how difficult it was...it had to be the limit, right?

“I didn’t fuck anybody, Ava.” Whether he wanted to sleep with the pretty girl or not, he didn’t. At the end of the day, he didn’t do it. Thinking about it was wrong. Part of him hoped that if it came down to it, he wouldn’t have. He would never know. There was no telling. But right now, that didn’t matter. He hadn’t done something worse. Divine intervention, clarity, the fucking washing machine timer saved him from having sex. “Did you... fuck somebody else?” The question felt like someone had shoved a handful of rocks into his mouth. It was hard to say out loud.

Ava was no longer beautiful. The scowl on her face made her look nasty. Her nose crooked, her lips curled in a snarl. She was a witch. Plain and simple. The silence was telling. Her lack of a response told him everything he needed to know.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he pressed his hands to his eyes. Exasperated, hurt, heartbroken. Everything. Harry felt everything at that moment.

Holy shit. His conscience agreed with his heart.

“Why would you say you did something bad?!” She practically shrieked. “Who gives a shit about a kiss?!”

“Ava, are y’serious!?” He shouted back. His voice felt raw. The tears pricked behind his eyes. This was bad. So, so, so bad. “It ate me alive!”

“It was a kiss!”

“How. How is this my fault, Ava?!” He shouted. She was silent. Harry rarely reached his full yelling potential. Ever. He knew he was loud—maybe even scary in the right light. So he didn’t like to yell that loud if he could help it. It was rude and he didn’t like the person he was when he yelled like that. But right now...he couldn’t help it. “Y’mad at me because I didn’t sleep with someone else? That I only kissed someone? So that y’can justify fucking someone else behind m’back?” More silence. She simply glared at him. But he watched, her eyes welled with tears. Like she had any reason to take the moral high ground. Not that Harry had much higher ground to stand on, but he hadn’t slept with someone else, at the end of it all. “We’re done,” he shook his head.

Her body deflated. “Harry,” she whimpered. Voice breaking on his name like she had been so faithful and loving for their entire life all and all of sudden it was done; broken in seconds. She reached for Harry and he stepped back shaking his head.

“No, Ava. Done. S’been way longer than it should ‘ve been. We don’t like each other anymore. S’obvious t’anyone but us. This is jus’ proof. We’re done.”

She shook her head quickly, her body looked like it was going to crumple under the weight of ending a long relationship. “But...I love you.”

“No... no, you don’t,” he shook his head, his heart pounding. His throat felt like there were knives dragging along the length of his esophagus. “You don’t fuck someone else when you’re in love.”

Is that why you haven’t slept with Ava in months? His heart wondered in the silence of the room save for the sounds of Ava’s pathetic sniffles.

I’m sorry. The little voice in his head was soft-spoken. Shy and apologetic.

“We’re done, Ava. It’s over.”

*

It took more screaming of course. Harry had rubbed his eyes raw and red. It was nearly one in the morning when Ava finally left the apartment. She would get the rest of her stuff another day. She didn’t apologize once.

Harry, alone with his horrible thoughts and his sadness, was feeling terrible and broken. Maybe he deserved this just for hurting that sweet sunshiny girl. If that was the case, he thought maybe Ava should have been pregnant with someone else to get the right amount of heartache he deserved for hurting that sweet girl.

He didn’t want to ask how long she slept with someone else. He would get himself tested just in case the following morning. But he hoped Ava had enough sense to use protection. He was shaking with anger and heartache.

There was only one thing he knew that would cure him. One person that could fix it.

*

The knock jolted her awake on her sofa. She glanced at the clock. Who would come here at one in the morning? She checked her phone for messages and there were none—maybe Niall came back to visit? No, he would have said something. He was a terrible secret keeper. Pausing the movie she was watching, she wrapped her blanket around her as she hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, she frowned, then opened the door.

Harry looked utterly upset. Worse than she had ever seen him. His skin was pale. Even his pretty brown curls lacked life. He looked so...broken.

“Harry,” she whispered softly. She put a hand to her chest. It seemed...sinful for him to look this sad. It wasn’t fair. Even if she wasn’t supposed to love him, she wanted to comfort him. Despite his mishap, he really was quite lovely. “What’s wron—”

“I know... I know I messed up... kissing y’when I shouldn’t ‘ve. I know that... I... I don’t know if I would’ve stopped us...but...she...” he sighed heavily. His voice was scratchy sounding. Like he had a bad cough. She wondered how long they yelled for, the poor thing. She could feel her face fall. She already knew what Harry was going to say. She could see it in his rubbed-red eyes and sullen expression. “She slept with someone else... and I know m’not much better... but... we didn’t... we didn’t do that.”

Her heart broke for him. He was right. She doesn’t know if they would have stopped had Harry not stopped to ask about her picture frame. But they didn’t go further, at the end of it all. They didn’t. Maybe what they did wasn’t right, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

How could she break his heart?

Harry thought she looked so cozy, wrapped in a soft blanket and her hair a little messy from how she was sleeping. Her eyes seemed wider somehow, fresh from her slumber. She was adorable and as sad as Harry was, just seeing her nearly made him smile.

“Oh, munchkin,” she whispered.

There was a little flutter in Harry’s tired, broken heart at the sound of the name “munchkin.”

Finally. His heart and conscience were once more in agreement.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Love and Dryer Sheets: @love-letters-to-uranus

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

[nohoney]

bae now you're LEGALLY required to write something about c&c touya and reader taking care of their newborn. my heart ACHES

legally required you say (￢‿￢ )

Touya remembers the days of rolling out of bed from being out late at night, his body still exhausted and his head pounding with a hangover, needing more sleep, needing food in his stomach, and needing coffee and a smoke after a tiring night.

He’d go out to the balcony, light up a cigarette and inhale nicotine in between sips warm coffee.

The pairing he still believes is the best and can’t be topped.

He still drinks coffee but he’s given up the smoking, and instead of looking out at the balcony, now he looks out into the small backyard of the house you and him bought together. His body is exhausted after the long nights he’s had, but instead of being disgruntled by it, Touya holds no resentment.

Not with his newborn son being the reason why he’s tired.

“What’s with the face? You grumpy, hm? Got a bad attitude in the morning just like your mum?” Touya speaks to his son in his arms, fascinated with how his baby looks so curious but sometimes scrunching his little face like he doesn’t understand something. “Or maybe you’re making that face because you want her instead?”

Speaking of which, you shuffle out into the living room, pulling your arms through a cardigan and stifling a yawn. “There’s my boys,” you announce with a tired smile, “whatcha doing?”

“Nothing much, I was talking to him about his face. He was looking kinda pissed for a little.” Touya walks away from the sliding doors, carefully transferring his son into your arms and helping you sit down on the couch. His son makes a squirmy little sound but recognizes that he’s with his mother, turning his head when you coo over him.

It makes Touya feel sappy to see this before him, but he knows that once there’s crying or a soiled nappy, the feeling will momentarily leave until the baby is all settled.

“Gonna brew some coffee. You want your tea?” Touya offers and is given a little affirming hum from you, “You want breakfast too?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry.”

There’s been very little energy to cook since bringing the baby home. Touya remembers the second day wanting to make eggs but his body was too exhausted from staying up with you as you breastfed your baby in the early hours of the morning and then falling asleep when his son was full. Your mom was right to suggest prepping meals ahead of time and freezing them.

While the coffee brews, Touya is warming a frozen meal into a pot. He smells the coffee in the air and he sighs a little wistfully; he misses the cigarettes. Not even the little vape that he used as a substitute was touched after you reached your third trimester. The routine of stepping outside for a smoke was dearly missed.

He’s got your favorite mug filled with hot tea as he approaches you in the living room, only to find you sniffling and weeping a little. He was told that baby blues are normal and has been keeping vigilant whenever you have these moments.

“Doll? What’s wrong?” He asks you gently, putting the cup on a coaster first. Three days after bringing the baby home, you had burst into tears when Touya had put your cup of water down on the coffee table without a coaster, unreasonably lamenting about water rings on the wood.

You wipe at your tears and sniffle first, letting out an embarrassed laugh before telling him, “I don’t know. I told you I was hungry and then all of a sudden I felt like I wasn’t hungry, but I could already hear you warming up the food in the kitchen. And then I just started spiraling about how I was wasting your time making breakfast that I’m not even sure I wanted anymore.”

He leans over to kiss your forehead, murmuring that it’s okay but most like you are hungry and that he’ll take the baby so that you could eat in peace.

By the time you’re finished eating, you do feel better and your son starts getting a little squirmy to indicate that it’s his turn. You make yourself comfortable in the armchair and unfasten the strap to your top, sighing when your son latches at your nipple and talking softly as he’s fed. “Hey, no nodding off just yet. Gotta make sure your tummy’s full so that you can sleep.”

It’s been about nine days since the baby has been home, and it almost feels surreal to Touya that almost every conversation you and him have had together centers around the baby boy. Talking about things like the little hairs on his head, how he blinks, the way he seems to recognize Touya’s music when it’s played, and having whole conversations about what’s considered normal inside of a nappy. When your sister and her husband spoke of their own daughter when she was a newborn, Touya couldn’t really understand the fascination that they had.

Now he gets it.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi fluff

[ilyluffy]

✞ 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 || 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 ✞

✞ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: werewolf!toji fushiguro x afab!reader

✞ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}

✞ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: monsterfucking, dom!toji, noncon, choking, vaginal sex, rough sex, size kink, tummy bulge, dumbification, breeding, reader gets referred to as a “mother”, creampie

✞ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.8k+

𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐒 but you certainly never expected this. you had just gone out looking for firewood. naturally you had an axe with you so you weren’t too worried about it being late at night. especially with the bright full moon lighting up the forest.

the worst thing you expected to run into was perhaps a bear. somehow you found something much worse. you hadn’t noticed it in the bushes, stalking you like prey. it was only when it was too late did you realize a beast was on your tail.

it tackled you from behind, knocking you to the ground and cursing your axe to go flying out of your grasp. you were helpless with no weapon to defend yourself. the weight of this thing was significantly larger than your own so there was absolutely no way you were shoving it off of you.

with the air knocked out of you, you were barely able to start breathing normally again before you were being spun on to your back. now you’re facing your attacker. when you saw it your heart seemed to stop. staring back down at you wasn’t quite a wolf but it wasn’t quite a man either.

no, it appeared to be something in between. although it had the face and figure of a human being, the man had a few animal features to match. it had sharp fangs that snarled down at you, more hair than you ever saw on a person, claws that dig into your arms, and ears and a tail that resembled a coyote’s.

fear takes over your body so much that you couldn’t move even if this beast loosened its grip on you. you were completely frozen and any scream you let out were only heard by the trees that surrounded you.

eventually your cries for help are drowned out by… laughter? the wolf man starts laughing at your useless attempts to escape. going quietly, your eyes go wide in disbelief as it speaks to you. “quiet down, little one. no one’s coming for you. it’s just you and me out here”.

the ability to reply escapes you for a moment but soon enough you’re able to utter a feeble “a-are you going to kill me?”.

there’s that booming laughter again. “no, no, killing you would be a waste” toji answers, his lips decorated with a scar curl into a smirk. “i have something else in mind for you”.

letting go of one of your arms, toji raises one of his claws. your eyes squeeze shut as you expect you to slash you. instead your clothes are the only things ripped to shreds. a shiver runs up your spine as the chilly night air hits your skin.

“now be good. need to make sure i breed you properly” toji licks a stripe along your neck. his words send you into a panic. you start begging for him not to do it but toji silences you by wrapping one of his large hands around your neck. “quiet” he hisses. “good mate’s don’t argue”.

with his palm still putting pressure on your throat, but not enough to kill, you feel toji line his cock up with your exposed entrance. already you can tell it’s much bigger than any man’s dick should be. anxiety overwhelms you but by the time the tip of his cock pushed past your folds and into your tiny pussy, toji’s so big that your mind goes blank.

your head falls back as your lips part in a silent scream. you were half convinced that there was no way he could fit inside but somehow toji bottoms out. you feel so tiny underneath him. you can’t help but whimper as he pulls back and slams himself back in.

toji growls when he sets a fast pace and spots the bulge he forms in your stomach. “look at that. you can take me, little one” he says, finally releasing your throat. “gonna fill you with my pups”.

you’re already too fucked out to refuse. he’s moving so fast and has rammed into your cervix so many times that you’re seeing stars. if you were squeezing him for dear life toji may have chuckled at the dumb look on your face and the drool slipping past your lips.

right now is animistic urges have kicked in and he’s focused on nothing but filling you to the brim. with a howl the werewolf stuffs you with his seed. he continues thrusting, all to make sure none of his cum goes to waste. during those few extra thrusts, your own coil snaps and you cream around him.

“very good” toji groans, pulling his messy cock out of your abused cunt. “i’ll come back to see you next full moon to see how the mother of my pups is doing. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍”.

2022 © b-achiras — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

#apollo writes ✎ #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #kinktober 2022 #monster mash up ✞

[themultifandomgal]

Hi love, can i request one for peaky blinders? Where y/n is in school with Finn and he knows she’s struggling at home so he asks Tommy and the others if they can get her a job or something to help her out. So maybe she gets to clean at the Garrisons and/or maybe watch John’s kids. One night when he gets home late she stays and help him clean up and maybe something happens. Then he says he doesn’t need any help with the kids anymore. Cause he feels bad dragging her in to that life and taking care of his kids and all. But everytime they meet they can’t keep away from eachother.. they end up together maybe Tommy speaks some sense into John or have a talk with y/ns parents to let her marry John? You can do with this idea what you like? I would love to read it!

John Shelby- Can’t Stay Away

Hey! So I changed it a little because of the ages hope that ok so instead of being in school with Finn YN went to school with John and they stayed good friends.

John and I have been friend since we were 4 years old when we started school. My home life wasn’t always great, my father was an alcoholic and my mother was abusive. Mrs Shelby ended up most evening cooking me meals, making sure I had clean clothes. When she passed away it broke all of us.

After wanting to leave my home, Polly gave me a place to live, but finding a job was very hard so I ended up marrying a man who I didn’t love, but he passed away during the war. Tommy got me a job at the Garrison and after Martha passed away I started helping John look after his kids, which caused me to start catching feelings for him. I’ve been doing this now nearly every other day, picking the kids up from school.

Today was no different. I just put them all to bed when John finally comes home

“Hey” I smile at him “have you eaten anything? There’s left overs….”

“I’m getting married” he blurts out making me stop walking towards the kitchen. I turn around with a frown on my face, my heart feels like it’s been crushed into thousands of tiny pieces 

“Oh” is all I can say

“It’s errr Lizzie. Lizzie Stark”

“What?” Lizzie? The woman who’s slept with all of the Shelby brothers, well all except Finn as he’s like 12

“Yeah so errr I don’t need to to help out anymore”

“Oh. Ok erm well I’ll erm see you round then” not really knowing what to say I give John a small smile “congratulations John. I hope she makes you happy” I quickly grab my coat and leave Johns house before he can see that my eyes are starting to tear up.

Over the next few days YN tries her best to stay away from John, but she just can’t. Not only is that her best friend but she loves him. Tommy being so wise knows how YN feels, but he also knows John also has feelings for his best friend. He’s just being stubborn.

Tommy and his brothers are sat in the snug at the Garrison nursing a whiskey

“She’s gonna change”

“She’s not. I offered her money and she took it”

“Fuck!” John yells running his hands over his face

“But ya know who wouldn’t take the money… YN”

“Tom…”

“Tommys right John. That girl loves you. She has from the day you met”

“But she got married” John frowns at his Aunt who rolls her eyes

“Men… she married because you got married”

“But…”

“Yes you did the right thing, but did you love Martha?”

“Of course I did”

“Like the way you love YN?” Tommy ask

“I….”

“Your a fool if you marry Lizzie” Arthur comments downing his whiskey. Just then there’s a knock on the door and YN walks in

“Hey I’m just about to go, but is there anything else you want before I leave?” YN asks looking around, mainly looking at John

“No thank you love. We’ll see you tomorrow” Polly smiles. YN nods her head and says bye to everyone before walking out. Tommy looks at John who’s staring at the door of the snug. Tommy then looks at the door then back at John

“Bloody hell, go after her!” John quickly gets up and leaves the room as quick as he can. Tommy downs his whiskey “thank fuck for that”.

John runs down the street shouting YN’s name. YN stops and turns round confused to why John is runnin after her. Had she forgotten something?

“John?” but before anything else could be said Johns lips are immediately on YN’s. YN pulls back still feeling confused “why did you do that?”

“Because I’ve finally had some sense knocked into me. I love you YN. I can’t stay away from you. It’s you I want to marry, to help look after my kids and maybe even had kids with… that’s if you’ll let me?”

“What about Lizzie?” YN asks

“I’ll break it off with her, I promise, but…” John then gets down on one knee “will you marry me?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear. Of course I will” with that John gets up and spins YN round, kissing her lips. Little did the couple know that Tommy had also left the Garrison hoping to catch a glimpse of the two. He won’t ever tell anyone, but he did smile when he saw his brother and YN happy in each other’s arms finally.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby x oc #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine

[senseless-writing]

Unforgiving Anxieties

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Rooster has to leave again, which isn’t something new. But this time, he’s leaving his wife with a baby at home, and Y/n isn’t sure if she can handle the stress that comes with parenting all by herself.

Warnings: Small spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick. LOTS of angst, but plenty of fluff to back it up

A/N: WOAH. Not the Witcher, and not an OC? Who am I?? Idk guys, but this has been on my mind for days, so I just had to write it. Let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

----------

Rooster thought he would have more time before his work pulled him away from his family again. Truly, he did. But things never worked out the way you wanted them to, and such was even more true for aviators in the US Navy. 

Still, it never got better. To kiss his wife goodbye, hold her close, and promise “yes, baby, I’ll be safe,” “no, honey, I won’t put myself in any unnecessary danger,” was harder than any dogfight he’s ever been in. She’d pretend not to cry, he’d pretend not to notice, and he’d always leave with the same thought in the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, flying wasn’t worth leaving her time and time again. 

But then came Elijah. And for a while, at least, things were different. 

Elijah Nicholas Bradshaw was the light of his parents' lives. Nearly six months old, no baby was more doted on them him. With a closet full of mini Hawaiian shirts to match his daddy, and an unlimited amount of affection from Y/n, the kid seemed to have a permanent smile on his face. Rooster even had to upgrade his phone to unlimited storage to make room for all the photos he took. 

But paternity leave for the Navy was only twenty-one days. Eventually, he had to go back to work, and it tore him apart to leave every day, even if he got to return at the end of the night. It was hard, almost indescribable, but manageable. 

Until now. Things were different now. He’d been called back to Top Gun without so much as an explanation as to why he had to leave his wife and half-year-old baby, other than the small detail that it was most definitely a dangerous mission. 

He could’ve said no. Should’ve said no. But then he thought of his father, thought of how close he got to having him back whenever he was in the air, and remembered why he loved doing what he did. So instead, the Bradshaws went through the motions yet again. Except this time, Eli was in his mother's arms as Rooster said goodbye. 

“Please be safe,” she mumbled against the crook of his neck, the pair clinging to one another on their front porch. He could feel the subtle drops of tears against his skin, but he pulled her closer and pretended not to notice. Elijah giggled at the feeling of being squished between his parents. 

Rooster pressed a rough kiss to his wife’s head. “I will.” 

“And keep me updated,” she spoke quickly, her words full of anxiety. “I know most of it is classified, but I just want to know-” 

He gently pulled her away from his chest, cupping the sides of her neck to angle her face towards his own. “Breathe, baby,” he sighed, urging her to do the same. His thumbs brushed across the apples of her cheeks to rid them of tears, though he knew it was a futile attempt. “I will tell you everything I can, okay? I promise.” 

His wife nodded up at him, her tears mixing with the fear and despair and pride and something he couldn’t recognize swirling in her eyes. 

Rooster cracked her a smile, a dull sort of chuckle falling from his lips. “Hey,” he whispered against her lips. “No crying for me, baby. It’s just a classroom. The only thing I’ll suffer from is sunburns and acute boredom.” 

It was a lie, and they both knew it. But it brought out a watery laugh from his Y/n all the same. 

When she was done laughing, and he was done admiring her, the look on her face was something akin to determination. “Here’s what's gonna happen,” she spoke to him softly. These words were only for him and their little family of three. “You’re gonna go, and you’re gonna learn whatever it is they think they can teach you. And then you’re gonna complete this super-secret mission that everyone wants to pretend isn’t happening. And when it’s all said and done, you’ll come home to me. To us. Got it?” 

This was the wife he knew. Strong and fearless and overly demanding. 

He loved it. 

“Yes ma'am,” he said with a smile, still holding her face close to his. 

After a moment, he decided to move on to the baby in her arms. Eli, ever the mama’s boy, grumbled a little about the movement, but quickly settled against his father's chest. Rooster was immediately pressing kisses to his cheeks.

“And you, my little man. Are you gonna be good for mama while I’m away? You have to, being the man of the house and all. You gotta look after our girl.” 

Y/n tucked herself into his side as she watched, and Rooster wrapped his free arm around her. 

“Don’t grow too much while I’m away,” he whispered into his son’s ear, and that made Y/n laugh softly again. 

“It’s only a couple of weeks, Roos.” 

“Babygirl, he’ll be six months by the time I get back. I’m missing a milestone.” 

“There’ll be more.” 

Rooster wasn’t sure if he liked how casually she said that. As if the idea of him not being there for every important moment in their lives, of him missing the memories worth making, was something she’d already made peace with. But he didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, not with her practically shoving him towards his running car. It felt like forever, and it felt like seconds, them saying goodbye. But time passed, as it always did, until he was driving away with clenched fists and a heavy heart. 

He didn’t regret his job, and he knew his wife didn’t either. But sometimes, none of that mattered. 

It still sucked. 

----------

“You look like you haven’t slept in days, honey.”

“Wow, Roos, you really know the way to a girl's heart.”

“You’re always beautiful, Y/n, but you know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, brushing some stray hair away from her face. The bun she wore wasn’t holding much at this point, and though her eyes were still sparkling as they normally did when on a face time call with her husband, the bags underneath them were hard to miss. “Well, you’re not completely wrong. Eli is supposed to be sleeping in his own room from now on, which means I spend most of the time in there instead of in bed.” 

Rooster shifted his phone from one hand to the other with a concerned look on his face. The tip of his nose was burnt from the San Diego sun, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked. “Is he not sleeping well?” 

“No, he’s sleeping fine. It’s me who can’t settle down.” 

His eyebrow lifted in question, and Y/n let out another sigh. 

“I just have this feeling,” she admitted, somewhat embarrassed. “That if I’m not watching him at all times, he’ll stop breathing. Which is irrational, but I literally can’t turn my brain off. I won’t sleep even if I do lie down, so I might as well watch him.” 

Rooster immediately felt horrible. Worse than the 200 push-ups he’d been forced to do last week, or the uphill climb Mav was teaching them. It was like he had one job, one real job, and he wasn’t able to do it. 

“Y/n,” he struggled to find the words. 

“I know, I know. It’s stupid.” 

Another punch to the gut. 

“I should be there. It’s a tough transition, and meant to be a two-person job.”

Her eyes were all-knowing, and what Rooster wanted more than anything in the world was to drown in them. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” 

“I’m supposed to be with you,” he said with a pout. 

“You will be,” she giggled. “In a few weeks from now, when you’re done doing whatever it is you're doing. Maybe by then, I’ll be a little more chilled out.”

“Stop saying that. It’s okay to be nervous. Can’t you call your mom, see if she’ll watch him for a bit so you can sleep?”

“I could…” she seemed unsure, and Rooster rubbed his face in discomfort.

Something told him his wife wasn’t being completely honest with how much this was affecting her. She didn’t trust anyone with their son that wasn’t herself right now, and he feared she would run herself into the ground before asking for help. And he wanted to offer it. He wanted to say that he was there for her, that he would help her in any way he could. 

But he wasn’t there for her, and he couldn’t help. So what was he to do, other than offer useless words?

“Please just try, baby, okay?” he said instead, hoping whatever he said would be enough. “Your mom's great, and I’m sure she’d love to spend some time with Eli. Just have her promise to wake you if anything seems off.” 

Her nose scrunched at the idea, but she nodded all the same. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Does that ease your mind at all?” 

“I was hoping it would ease yours.” 

“You’re impossible, Bradley Bradshaw, do you know that?” she rolled her eyes at him.

“Impossibly in love with you, Y/n Bradshaw.”

She laughed at him for that. A full-out belly laugh that shook the camera within her grasp, and Rooster couldn’t help but laugh with her. He thought she was absolutely stunning when she was like this. Carefree and happy and amused by something stupid he’d said. And, with utmost certainty, he knew he’d continue to make a goddamn fool of himself for the rest of their lives if it kept her this way. 

“I miss you, baby,” he said once their laughter died down. 

“What, your flying buddies aren’t good enough company?”

Rooster thought of Hangman, an ultimate pain in the ass with all bark and no bite. And he thought of Pheonix, who picked on him for fun, and Bob, who almost seemed to not understand the meaning of the word. 

They were his friends, and he loved them. But they weren’t his wife. 

“Nobody’s better than you, sugar bear.” 

“Ugh, you know I hate when you say that.” 

“I know,” he teased. “I just wanted to see your face scrunch up like that when I did.”

“You know what Bradshaw? I’m going to bed.” 

“Promise?” he said with a somewhat serious edge to his voice. 

She smiled up at him. “Mhm, it’s straight to dreamland for me. Eli’s already asleep, and I checked on him right before you called.” 

The angle of her phone dropped to focus on the baby monitor at her side. It was a grainy picture, but the view of his son's wild sandy hair as he slept peacefully was enough to make Rooster’s heart soar. 

“Alright, baby, I won’t keep you then. I love you.” 

“I love you too. Be safe, okay?”

“I will.” 

----------

It would be two more weeks before Rooster was reunited with his wife. As soon as he landed (rather roughly) on the carrier, he was calling her to let her know that the mission was over, and he was on his way home. She asked how it went, he said “as smooth as a car crash,” and she laughed and laughed until tears were slipping from her eyes. 

The reunion itself, despite the seriousness of the situation, wasn’t nearly as tearful as one may think. In fact, they never were when it came to the Bradshaws. Goodbyes were miserable, but hellos were all smiles and laughs and dancing in the kitchen to music that wasn’t there. And at the end of the day, they ate dinner on their back porch and marveled at their son, who was too busy rubbing dirt on his face to notice how happy his parents were. 

But with the night came anxiety. They put Elijah to bed together, with the baby in Y/n’s arms and Y/n in Rooster’s. It was everything she’d wanted for weeks, but it couldn’t ease her aching heart. When Rooster directed his wife to bed, she couldn’t help but worry. 

Her brain wouldn’t turn off. 

Rooster could feel it throughout the night. Every 45 minutes or so, even with his consciousness muddled by sleep, he noticed her slipping out of bed. Quietly, as if she didn’t want to wake him, but that didn’t matter. He was attuned to his wife’s every movement, even in sleep. Which meant that every time she pulled herself out of his arms to go check on their son, he layed awake, waiting for her to return. 

It was the fifth or sixth time that he finally decided to say something. 

“Honey?” he said groggily, pulling her back against his chest when he felt her move to get up. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong,” she whispered back. “I just want to make sure Eli’s okay.” 

“He looks fine, baby, see? On the monitor, he’s sleeping like…well, like a baby.” 

Y/n didn’t laugh at his joke, barely even cracked a smile. Her hands were still gripping the comforter, itching to stand and check for herself. Rooster couldn’t think of the words to ease her mind, not when he knew they didn’t exist. He wanted her to rest, and there was only one way she would. 

“How about I go check on him, hm? You stay here, and I’ll make sure everything’s alright.” 

“No, no, no, that’s okay, I can just-”

“Y/n,” he shushed her, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I’m back now. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Let me go check.” 

She nodded to him as he rose, though he could tell she wasn’t fully convinced. With light feet, Rooster padded across the carpeted floors, all the way to the room across from theirs. White noise echoed from the crack in the door, and he pushed it open slightly to slip into the room. 

He was immediately drawn to the crib in the far corner. Before he could realize it, a smile was spreading across his drowsy face. His perfect boy was fast asleep, sprawled on his back with arms and legs strewn haphazardly around him. 

Y/n said that Eli slept as he did. Rooster always pretended not to agree with her. 

He laid his hand flat on his son's chest, the baby still so small that it nearly covered him entirely. He could feel Eli’s chest rise, up and down and up and down. It was smooth and easy, and although Rooster hadn’t been worried for a second, the small part of his brain still relaxed at the feeling. So he leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to his chubby baby cheeks, and made his way back to their bedroom. 

He found his wife sitting up in bed as she anxiously watched the monitor. “He’s all good, baby,” he reassured her, climbing in bed and moving the monitor back to its rightful place on their bed stand. “Let's go back to sleep.” 

She let out an uncomfortable sigh, as if she didn’t completely believe him. He reached out to her, then, and pulled so her back was to his chest. “Come here, come here, come here,” he chanted softly, and she giggled at his foolishness. “Please sleep.” 

She pushed herself deeper into his arms as he pressed kisses to the back of her head. “Okay,” she relented. Rooster could feel her settle, and God in heaven, he hoped she stayed that way.

But she didn’t. 

With Rooster asleep, Y/n was left alone with her thoughts. It started slowly, at first. Little pricks of anxiety that spread through her brain like vines on a tree. But little by little, it grew. It grew until her fears were the only things she could think about, and even the arms wrapped around her waist weren’t enough to pull her back to Earth. 

Instead, horror stories flooded her brain. Fears of SIDS cases after six months, of waking up to a blue baby and realizing it was her fault they lost the one thing that meant more to them than anything else in the world. Because she was the mother, she was the one who should know when something was off, right? 

She could feel it in her soul, right down to the aching heart and burning skin. It was that sense that everyone tells you about, the sense that alerts you to a disturbance in your child. Her baby was alone right now, alone and scared and hurting because something is most definitely wrong. 

Y/n tried to pull herself from Rooster’s arms. Who cares if he checked less than ten minutes ago, because I’m the mom and I know my baby needs help. But the man was just too goddamn persistent, even in sleep, and had the muscles to back it up. So if he wanted her to stay put, that’s where she would be. 

She was quickly running out of patience, though, and so was her anxiety. Her chest was heavy with dread, her airway closing as panic began to run its course. And suddenly, it was no longer I need to see if my baby is okay, but instead, I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe. 

“Rooster,” she wheezed, squeezing his wrist where it lay firmly on her stomach. 

The man didn’t so much as flinch, and Y/n tried again to grab his attention. “Bradley!” 

Her nails were digging into his skin at this point. That was what awoke him first. However, he quickly noticed the quivering mess that was his wife in his arms. “Woah,” he struggled to understand what could have happened in the short time since he fell asleep. “What’s wrong, what happened?” 

Rooster sat up to get a better look at his wife’s face. It was covered in tears and flushed from what seemed to be a lack of oxygen, a look that he’s seen hundreds of times on panicking aviators. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air as she tried to explain, but all that came out were desperate sobs. 

“Please,” she breathed out, and he shushed her as best he could. With his arms, with his lips, and with his words; he wasn’t sure what other kind of comfort he could offer. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Take your time, breathe, and tell me what’s wrong.” 

She cried harder again, and he cradled her head close to his chest. 

“You’re going to make yourself sick, baby. Relax,” he nearly begged her. He felt like cold water had been dumped over the both of them with the way they shook. Her with fear, and him with confusion. “Everyone’s okay.” 

“No!” she burst out through quivering lips. “No we’re not, Eli’s not okay! I need to see him right now, Roos, something isn’t right.” 

“We just checked on him-” 

“You checked on him! I need to check on him! Please, please just help me. I need-” 

“Wait here,” he said suddenly, springing from their bed. 

Y/n called after him, wanting to follow, but her legs were too shaky to stand. She wasn’t used to feeling this helpless; had never allowed herself to. But now, with anxiety plaguing her in a way it never had before, the invincible strength of “military wife” was collapsing around her like a fragile house of cards. 

By the time Rooster rushed himself back to their room, his wife was lost to a puddle of tears and exhaustion. He couldn’t quite describe the hazy look he saw in her eyes, and wasn’t sure if he’d be able to ease it. 

But maybe Elijah could. 

“Here honey,” he hushed in a frantic tone. “Look for yourself. He’s perfectly fine, see?” 

Y/n’s shaking hands reached out to hold their now wide awake son, but Rooster was admittedly nervous that she would drop him. So instead, he simply raised the baby closer to her chest, moving until the three of them were huddled together on the bed. 

It was easy to see that Elijah was confused as to why he was now awake. His cute little eyebrows even furrowed in child-like confusion, an expression that his parents would laugh at for years to come. But the poor boy never cried. His patience was a mystery to all. 

Rooster used the arm that wasn’t holding Eli to tuck Y/n’s head against the crook of his neck. He breathed deeply, hoping that it would encourage her to do the same. Her arms clung to him and the baby nestled between them, and her trembling failed to cease, even after 20 minutes of him pressing soothing kisses to her temple. 

“Y/n?” he whispered softly, lips still pressed to her head. “Can you hear me?”

He knew she was barely settled from a panic attack, and wanted to make sure she was coherent enough to understand his words. He also didn’t want to rush her or force her into anything she wasn’t ready for. 

Y/n nodded. A small movement, but one he was able to catch. Her eyes were still firmly locked on the rising and falling chest of their child. 

“Y/n, this isn’t normal.” 

“Maternal anxiety is a part of motherhood,” she said to him in a hoarse, monotone voice. 

“But debilitating anxiety? That’s not healthy, honey.” 

Y/n didn’t respond. At least she was calming down a bit, which Rooster thought was a start. Her breaths were still shaky, but more even than before, and her hands finally relaxed over his own. More than anything, he wanted to know why she was so nervous. Why this fear, which was normal for most parents to have, suddenly became something that plagued her every waking moment. 

He didn’t have to wait long for the answers he sought. 

“Elijah is the best parts of us,” Y/n said after an excruciating minute of silence. “The very best parts.” 

Rooster could wholeheartedly agree with that. At only six months old, Elijah was kind, compassionate, and stubborn as hell. He’d always thought it was impossible for babies to have that much personality in such a small period of time. In fact, in the past, whenever parents described their kids in such detail, he was sure it was all a figment of their imagination. But now, he saw firsthand how special these little ones can be. 

His wife looked up at him, then, with anguish still in her eyes. “But more importantly, he’s a part of you.” 

That threw him for a loop. 

“What?” he whispered, running his fingers up and down her spine in what he hoped to be a soothing gesture. 

“Every day, Bradley, you run off to who knows where to risk your life doing something that you love. I’ve always supported you in that, never asked you to stop. And I never will, because every time you go after something you want, with that fire and willpower that I love so much, I’m always incredibly proud of you.” 

Rooster knew that. More than anything else in the world, he knew that. 

“But I can’t,” she sighed, looking away, before meeting his gaze with something new on her face. Acceptance, perhaps. Or maybe a lack thereof. “I can’t keep you safe. Protect you. I can’t be sure that when you go to work, doing what you love, you’ll come back to me at the end of the night. And I think that every time you walk out that door, it kills me a little more inside.” 

That hurt him more than he wanted to admit. Not because he felt she wasn’t supporting him, in a way, by being afraid. Quite the opposite, actually. He felt horrible that his wife thought the only way to truly support him in advancing his career was to hide the thoughts from him that kept her awake at night. 

That wasn’t to say they didn’t have these conversations before. There were plenty of nights, in their early years of dating, when they stayed up and talked about every thought and fear that entered their minds. The thought of him not returning was painful for both of them, for different reasons of course. But when danger was a part of the job, and relaxing moments were few and far between, it was easier to laugh and kiss and celebrate life than dwell on the parts of it they couldn’t change. 

Maybe it was easier to pretend. Or maybe, at times, they weren’t pretending. But it was a blurred line, and it was one the couple had learned to ignore a long time ago. 

He laid a kiss on her quivering lips, only because he couldn’t find the words to say. She let him, and they sat like that for a moment. Not quite kissing, but simply with their lips pressed gently together. Breathing in the same breath, foreheads leaning together as if it was the only thing keeping them upright. Elijah was already asleep again, peacefully in his father's arms. 

Y/n pulled away to whisper her next words to him, as if they were a confession she wasn’t quite ready to make. “But I can protect this baby.” 

Her thought hung in the air, and Rooster ran it through his mind over and over again until, oh god, he hated himself a little more for realizing what she meant. 

“I just feel like I have no control over my life anymore,” she cried to him. She couldn’t look at him anymore, too focused on the baby in his arms. Rooster wasn’t sure if he could look at himself either. “I have no say in whether my husband stays or goes, no control over whether my child has two parents or one. I can’t even control my own fucking emotions, for Christ's sake.” 

She wiped her tears away with a sharp swipe across her face. Rooster wanted to tell her to stop, to be careful with the face he loved so much, but she had more to say, and his voice was still firmly lodged in his throat. 

“But if I watch this baby, if I just watch him and make sure he’s alright, then I can be sure I always have a piece of you with me. I can be sure that a part of you lives on if…if everything I love falls out of my control.” 

And like a dam, Rooster broke. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he leaned forward to hide his face in the crook of Y/n’s neck. Seeking for comfort he didn’t deserve, for comfort he should have been providing. But his wife wrapped her arms around him without question, which only made the tears flow faster.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, the movement of his lips pressing butterfly kisses against Y/n’s collarbone. 

“Don’t be. Please, I don’t want you to feel guilty. I never did.” 

“I’m not feeling guilty,” he reassured her. “I’m just…sad.” 

He smiled up at her with tears still on his face. It was a small, insignificant smile, but he wasn’t surprised to find that she was already doing the same. It was a silly confession. In most cases, the word wouldn’t at all fit the occasion. 

Sure, there were better ways to put it. He was anguished at the fact that his wife, his beautiful, radiantly happy wife, was straining under the burden he’d put on her shoulders. He was embarrassed that the mother of his child was sometimes forced to do the job of parenting for the both of them. He was overly torn between his love for flying and his love for his family. He was enraged that he had to choose at all. And he was terribly afraid that the life he’d chosen for himself would doom Y/n to the same fate as his mother, who never truly recovered from the heartache she faced at the hands of his father.

But most of all, he was just sad. 

“I love you,” he said, because it was the easiest thing for him to say. 

She rested her head against his own, which was still on her shoulder. “I love you too.”

“I know I can’t tell you to not be afraid. And I know…I know you won’t let me step down.” 

She was objecting before he could continue. “You worked so hard to get where you are, Bradley, I won’t let you slow down now. You’ve already lost years of your career, and even if you and Mav made up or whatever, you can’t just-”

“Breathe, baby,” he reminded her. The last thing they needed was for her to have another panic attack all over again. 

She huffed, clearly annoyed at him, but obliged. Rooster fought off the urge to laugh at her stubbornness. 

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admitted at last. “I can’t…these nerves are eating me alive. It’s never been this bad before.” 

Rooster lifted his head from her shoulder to cup her face with his free hand. Their faces were both red and puffy from crying, though he didn’t care about that. Not with the exhaustion still clear in his wife’s eyes. She leaned into his touch until he was nearly holding the entire weight of her head in the palm of his hand. 

He’d hold her whole world in his arms if she asked him to. If she needed it. 

“You don’t fix this,” he said with the sweetest look on his face. Y/n practically melted. “I do. And that starts with you getting some sleep.” 

He watched, in real-time, as panic spread across Y/n’s entire face. Her hands tightened their hold on his wrists as if to pull Elijah closer to herself. Rooster immediately shushed her quietly. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered, allowing her to pull the baby closer. She leaned down to press her already trembling lips to Eli’s forehead. “But you need to sleep. Anxiety only gets worse with sleep deprivation.” 

“Is that something you learn in pilot school?” she mumbled cheekily against the baby’s head. 

“Yes, actually, it is.” 

Y/n didn’t reply, though the ghost of a smile spread across her lips. 

“Come here,” Rooster beckoned, sliding until he was completely leaning against their bed frame. With his legs fanned out in front of him, and baby pulled to rest comfortably against his chest, he gently urged Y/n to lay with her head against his lap. She was hesitant, but obeyed, and once she settled, he wrapped their comforter tightly around them both. “We’re gonna stay right here, Eli and I, while you rest for a couple of hours.”

“What if you get tired, or fall asleep? You just got back from a mission, Bradley, you should be resting.”

“I don’t need it, baby,” he said honestly. He was fine with lying awake and holding his two most important people in his arms. “What I need is for you to get some rest. But if I feel like I might fall asleep, or if there’s anything wrong with Eli, I promise I’ll wake you.” 

Y/n didn’t seem convinced. 

Rooster tried again. “Honey, if he so much as hiccups, you’ll be the first to know. After me, of course. And if you wake up throughout the night feeling afraid, we’ll be right here to show you that everything’s alright.” 

He ran a hand through her hair, down her back, and up again. She finally closed her eyes, an act that was somehow full of reluctance and relief at the same time. “This isn’t a permanent solution,” she mumbled, though she was already rubbing her face against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

“We’ll deal with that later,” he reassured her, all the while continuing to rub calming circles on her back. “When we both have more leveled heads.”

Perhaps Y/n wanted to argue. Maybe the words were even on the tip of her tongue. But by the time she opened her mouth to speak them, sleep had already taken over. For the first time in weeks, both mother and son were peacefully sleeping, unable to be plagued by the fears that came with the life they lived. 

And Rooster was more than content to see it.

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