#key's ten favourite things

[karajaynetoday]

and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings:  nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?”    You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two. 

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly. 

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise. 

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you. 

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one. 

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen. 

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set. 

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst. 

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks. 

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail. 

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be. 

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye. 

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did 

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message. 

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification. 

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change. 

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead. 

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x 

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season. 

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance. 

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry. 

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill. 

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you. 

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry. 

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #my writing #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfiction

[200124]

DISCIPLINE CHALLENGE

This challenge is to help you address concerns you may face when trying persist your desired state. I call it a discipline challenge because it is to help you maintain the key ideas of the law in your head and to keep conscious of them in order to persist your desired state. By following this challenge you will learn to accept that 4d is the real reality, this will aid in accepting your desire as nothing but an undeniable fact, help you to not be in the state of waiting, impatience and lack.

DAY 1:

This day is focused on accepting the 4D/consciousness as the real reality. This is a huge step because once you have accepted this, it will be easier to get into your dominant state as you have understood that consciousness is the only reality and accepted this. So how will we do this? Through repetition and affirmations - not in a method way but to get this idea stuck into your head. I feel like majority of us keep forgetting this and it leads onto spiralling and what not.

Affirmations:

I know that the 4d is the only reality.

Consciousness is the only reality.

Why would I be worried if I have everything in my inner world?

I have all my desires in the 4D.

You will do these affirmations on a rampage for five minutes - I know it's giving Sammy Ingram but these ideas will be eventually impressed onto your subconscious - making it easier to occupy your state. And after the rampage do it throughout the day as well.

DAY 2:

This day is focused on addressing and overcoming problems that may assist in you falling out of your state. Most big one that majority of us suffer from is being in the state of waiting which does not make sense. Why would you be waiting, when according to the law once you accept you have your desire, that's it. It is done from then on. You have claimed it into your 4D. There is no waiting in the 4D. One thing some of us can suffer from is impatience. Why would you be impatient, when you have it all in your 4D?

This day will include a five to ten minute vaunt on why would you be waiting / be impatient. You can follow your own vaunt similar to this or add in more to this vaunt. Just take the following vaunt as an example!

Vaunt: I literally have everything in the 4d so it is pointless for me to wait. I love having everything in the 4d and the 3d does not matter to me at all. Being impatient is such a silly concept because I literally have everything in my inner world. I am satisfied with having all my desires in the 4D. I have came to acceptance that I have everything in my inner world and I could not be any happier. Waiting for my desire is such an insane thing to do because I have all my desires in the 4d.

DAY 3:

This day is focused on all those that keep looking for movement in the 3D. Sometimes people are really focused on movement, they say they have been in a state for so long and say they have never gotten their desire. It is obvious they are looking for movement and are aknowledging and dwelling on the state of not having their desire, which is silly! By doing Day 1 and 2, it should ease you into not looking for movement in the 3D.

Affirmations:

All my desires have materialised into the 3D because the 3D only reflects my 4D.

Looking to the 3D is crazy because I have all my desires in the 4D, which is the true reality.

I have accepted that I have all my desires in 4D and looking for movement in the 3D is pointless.

Combine these affirmations with day 1 and 2 on a rampage or as a vaunt for six minutes and it will help you to accept that the 4D is the real reality. Do it with some meditation music or your favourite music that will help you to immerse into this idea.

DAY 4:

Hopefully with day 1, 2 and 3, you have came to acceptance that the 4D is the real reality, impatience and waiting for your desire is a silly thing because you have everything in your imagination and looking for movement is pointless.

From this day onwards you can successfully occupy your desired state without being in the state of impatience, lack and waiting. If you find yourself doing these, then I suggest you do day 3 again where you go on a six minute rampage / vaunt with meditation music. Hopefully this challenge will allow you to fulfil yourself that you have your desire.

Disclaimer: I cannot tell you when your desire will manifest with this challenge, that is down to how well you enforce these ideas into your imagination and stick to it, but hopefully it has disciplined you to not be in the state of lack, state of impatience and the state of waiting. It will ease you into accepting that you have all your desires in the imagination and there is nothing more for you to do. It will hopefully allow you to make your desired state of consciousness into your dominant state -> reflecting it onto the 3D.

#law of assumption #states #neville goddard #manifestation #manifesting #states of consciousness #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #don't let this flop please #please I beg

[verahella]

ᡣ𐭩 HQ DAD MOMENTS !

✎ feat. k. kozume, k. tobio, o. tooru

ᡣ𐭩 KENMA KOZUME

it’s about three a.m and kenma really needs to pee but he’s scared that you’ll creep up on him and scold him, like his parents used to (he swears he’s an adult). he sighs, family never changes.

the door creaks open.

kenma spins in his chair slowly, “now listen, i can explain—”

his baby sits on the ground, big curious eyes wandering from him to the monitor.

kenma lets out a sigh, pulling his headphones down to his neck, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

miyu tilts her head as if to ask him the same question.

“fine, fine.” kenma mutters, picking her up and wrapping an arm around her to keep warm as he spins back around, “i’ll let you play with me as long as you keep quiet.”

he narrows his eyes at her, “and no throwing up or pooping.”

miyu smooshes kenma’s cheeks together in acceptance and he nods, holding out a finger to which she wraps her hand around. “we have a deal then, partner in crime.”

the next twenty minutes pass in a blur, with his daughter criticising him with her babbles and pulling on the strings of his hoodie while kenma tries to shush her in the quietest way possible. the sound of keys being smashed fills the silence as kenma takes a break, rubbing his eyes.

he freezes immediately when he hears footsteps trudging to his room. oh shit.

kenma prays that it’s some ghost instead of his wife but he knows the pattern of those steps too well. kenma rushes to manoeuvre under the table and miyu lets out a traitorous giggle when he bangs his head.

the door opens and you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

“kenma?”

“what the—” your eyes squint in the bright glare of the monitor but even half asleep and caught between reality and dreams, you don’t think kenma can shrink so quickly, “where’s papa?”

your baby stares at you blankly, sitting in her dad’s gaming chair and wearing too large headphones that slip off her ears.

kenma doesn’t have to look to know she snitched so he sneaks out of his hiding place. not before banging his head once again though.

like the sadists his family is, miyu laughs again while you give him a look that says ‘you deserved it’.

he rubs his poor head to soothe it, “listen, i can explain—”

“you’re on diaper duty for the whole of next week.”

ᡣ𐭩 KAGEYAMA TOBIO

it breaks tobio’s heart when your daughter comes home from school with a tear stained face. her unicorn backpack is dropped on the floor with a thud as she rushes to burrow herself into her dad’s leg.

tobio picks her up and settles her onto his lap, frowning as he awkwardly pats her head. your daughter curls into him, fisting his shirt tightly.

“what happened?”

your daughter looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears, “s-some boy said that my nails s-sucked.” she mumbles through a soft pout on her lips.

tobio’s frown deepens as he looks down at her chubby fingers fiddling with his shirt. sure, one hand with pink glitter and the other with various shades of rainbow wouldn’t be his first choice but anything looks cute on his girl (his words, not mine.)

“they’re idiots. your nails are fine.”

he thinks that isn’t the right thing to say when her bottom lip starts wobbling. panic twists into his chest and he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, “you can paint mine.”

her sniffles pause, “really?”

no. he doesn’t want to go out with gem nails from a five year old’s nail kit. “really.”

her eyes brighten up and tobio thinks the impending doom of embarrassment is worth bearing when she bounces and skips to get her nail kit.

hours of frozen playing in the background pass and that’s how you find your husband finishing up the last of his clumsily painted nails at ten in the night, your daughter tucked into a burrito of blankets and drooling on his chest.

your gaze snags on the heart drawn on his hand and a soft smile spreads on your lips when you recognise the initials.

yeah. when the prize is his favourite girls’ smiles, tobio can definitely deal with his deformed hello kitty nails being captured on camera in his next match.

ᡣ𐭩 OIKAWA TORU

you’ve made many mistakes in your life but you’re starting to think that your biggest one yet is bringing oikawa to the mall with you.

he was already unbearable when you were dating, buying you anything and everything that you glanced at for more than ten seconds. but now, it’s reached a point where you debate between pretending not to know him (which is hard when you both have the same last name) or straight up abandoning him and going home.

“babe! check this out!”

you sigh at his excited yell and your baby mirrors your annoyance from her stroller, “what is it this time?”

“isn’t this just adora—hey, careful! that’s my foot!” you stop just short of running over oikawa with the stroller. he sighs and holds up a pastel dress only slightly bigger than his hand, “isn’t it adorable? the bow is cute too.”

he leans down to the stroller, eyes sparkling, “you like it, don’t you, yuko-chan?”

your baby spits out her pacifier in response, crossing her chubby arms. you barely stifle a laugh at oikawa’s shoulders drooping.

“you’ve been spending way too much time with that thug, uncle iwa.” toru pouts.

at the mention of her favourite person in the world, yuko brightens up, clapping her hands. this time, you do laugh when oikawa’s jaw drops open.

“you wound my heart, yuko-chan.” he places a hand over his heart, letting out a sigh like a damsel in distress, “give papa a kiss and fix him up again.”

he looks down at her and finds her chewing on her thumb, attention diverted to a panda plushie. oikawa sighs and takes matters into his own hands, lifting up the baby to his eye level. the two have an intense staring contest before yuko pulls down her lower eyelid, blowing a raspberry at her father.

“wonder who she learnt that from,” you say drily.

your daughter is the only one who, aside from you, can humble her father and she does a good job at it, humiliating him everyday. oikawa doesn’t mind though, offensiveness gone in an instant as he peppers kisses all over yuko’s face. he coos at her little grunts before carrying his victim over to another trial of clothes.

you smile at your little family and follow them, dropping the panda plushie into the cart. you know toru will come back looking for it again anyway if you don’t.

anything to make his little girl happy.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #kageyama x reader #oikawa toru #kenma kozume #kageyama tobio #vera’s.hq.library.✎

[woooyeahbaby]

How JJK Men Would React to Walking In On You Touching Yourself

warnings: nsfw 18+, established relationships with all characters, you and suguru never had sex before, workaholic!kento, gender neutral!reader (i tried my best, pls tell me if i need to change anything)

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

a/n: i’d like to thank my friend for the advice when writing this lol, not only did they give me the idea but they also told me little things i could change to make it better.

Satoru Gojo

it was pretty late at night, and satoru told you an hour ago that he’d be home soon. you’d grown impatient waiting, and decided to help yourself. a few minutes after you started, you didn’t hear him come through the front door over the sound of your noises of pleasure. of course he heard you nearly as soon as he came in the apartment, and a stupid smirk formed on his face. he quietly made his way to the bedroom door, just to surprise you even more when he swung it open and stared at you. “oh, what’s this? my baby couldn’t wait? you poor thing…” he closes the door behind him, getting closer to your startled frame laying in his bed. “as cute as it is, i don’t remember giving you permission.”

Suguru Geto

suguru had been teasing you through text all day, sending just the right messages and selfies he knew would get you worked up. you two hadn’t really had sex yet, you’d gotten close to it, but something always ended up changing last second. that didn’t stop you two from sexting almost daily, though. but that only made the both of you hornier. it was only a matter of time before one of you walked in on the other. and that’s exactly what happened. suguru came home from hanging out with satoru, a little quieter than he usually would, and cluelessly walked into your shared bedroom. he expected you to be napping or watching a show, definitely not sprawled out with your hand between your legs. “oh, well this is a sight to see. did you miss me that much? i think you’ll be very happy to learn i missed you too.” a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he approached you, letting you know you’d be in for a long night.

Kento Nanami

you didn’t mind when kento ended up coming home late, sure, it felt a little lonely, but it was manageable. however, it was a little annoying when you were horny and he wasn’t there at night to help you with that. so, when you got the text that said he wouldn’t be home until later, you decided to help yourself. apparently, “later” meant ten minutes later than usual. kento never really made noise when he came home, the only tell of him being there was the sound of jingling keys and footsteps. but you were far too immersed in pleasing yourself that you didn’t hear any of it until it was too late and he’d waltzed into your shared bedroom. “oh, i’m sorry. did i make you wait too long? here, let me make up for it.” it was always his favourite way to de-stress after work.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami fanfiction #nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut

[marypsue]

There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY. 

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life. 

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it. 

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do. 

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose? 

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them. 

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards. 

So. Paint that t-shirt. 

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)

#this post brought to you by: me being so so sad about zoomers having crafts and Making Thing With Your Hands Badly stolen from them #also by me listening to a radio show on How The Sony Walkman Changed Music And Where It's Going Next #ready for the san andreas fault to open up and swallow silicon valley whole forever folks #anyway. followers i am getting down off the cafeteria table now.

[drabblesandimagines]

Traditions

Leon Kennedy x reader Established relationship, fluff, one lil' swear

You look forlornly at the box of Christmas decorations you’d brought out of the top of the cupboard in anticipation of tomorrow, sat prominently in the middle of the living room, and back down at the text you’d received a few moments ago from Leon.

LSK, 3:28pm: Been held up, sweetheart. Trying to get this wrapped up ASAP but I’m not going to be back tonight. Forgive me? x

It’s silly to be upset, you know that, especially Leon’ll be frustrated enough as it is that they’re making him stay there longer. You flop back on the sofa, take a breath and type out a reply.

No forgiveness necessary, silly. I know it’s not your fault. Be safe x

It was going to be your first Christmas in the new, shared apartment that you’d picked out together for the next big stage of your relationship. Leon hadn’t come with a huge amount of personal effects – a shoebox of letters and photographs had been the sum of anything sentimental amongst the usual boxes of clothes, shoes, bedsheets and towels. You, on the other hand, had come in with a fair bit more, including one solely filled with Christmas decorations.

You'd been sat on the living room floor nearly ten months ago now, unpacking one of your several boxes, a few of them set aside to be deposited in different rooms to tackle, which Leon had graciously been working his way through.

“Where do you want this one, sweetheart?”

You looked up, deciphering the initials you’d hastily written in permanent marker in the corner. “Oh, can you put that one in the top of the hall cupboard, please?”

He nodded, bending with his back rather than lifting from his knees and grunted, not expecting it to be as heavy as it was.

“What’s in here – weights?”

You smiled, sheepishly, getting up to your feet. “Christmas decorations. We don’t have to use all of them, I thought we could combine, you know? Decorations and traditions.”

He looked down at the sealed box, seeming embarrassed as you walked over to him. “That’s okay. Never really did much for Christmas myself, so I'm happy with whatever you wanna do for both, sweetpea."

You stood up on your tip-toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Well, we can get some new ones too – together.”

That had been the plan for tomorrow on the rare, overlapping day off for the two of you in a busy December. You had a whole itinerary in mind, jam-packed with your favourite festive activities that you were excited to share with Leon, see which ones he was taken with so you could start making your own joint traditions going forward. You move the box to the place you’d cleared for the tree, before sitting down on the sofa. You check your phone – no response – and lean forward for the remote control instead, switching on a tacky Christmas movie as a distraction.

--

You didn’t hear from Leon again that night, which wasn’t unusual if he was in the thick of things, and there was no text or missed call when you awoke in the morning. You’d showered, dressed and were in the kitchen, making a coffee to warm you up on the chilly morning – a very picturesque dusting of snow had fell overnight - when you heard the jangle of keys in the front door. In walked Leon, his suit crinkled, looking tired but smiling immediately at the surprised look on your face.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

“Leon!” You walked over to him as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor with a thud, opening his arms wide to greet you, only for you to yank him forward by his jacket to kiss him.

He slips his arms around your waist, kissing you back in return, though there’s a smirk on his lips when you pull back, “That welcome home makes the red-eye I caught entirely worth it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way back?”

He shrugs, swallowing down a yawn. “Didn’t wanna wake you – knew you’d got the whole day planned." He knew you'd been itching to decorate for Christmas with him, letting it slip that you usually had everything up by the evening of December 1st. "Lemme grab a shower, change out of this suit and then you can tell me what’s first on the agenda, hm?”

“Oh. No,” you shake your head, feeling foolish. “You must be exhausted after everything, as well as travelling through the night. We can just relax today, don’t worry about that stuff – it was a silly idea, really.”

“Uh-uh, I’ve been looking forward to it. Hell, it’s the reason why I got the red-eye.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He presses a kiss against your forehead before picking his bag back up. “Save me some coffee?”

“Okay.” You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face as he heads through to the bedroom. “Oh, be sure to dress warm!”

--

“A Christmas tree farm, huh?” Leon reads the sign with a grin, pulling the Jeep into the parking lot. You’d wanted to drive but he was a little nervous of you behind the wheel on the snowy roads. He’d been a good sport though, following the directions you’d programmed into the sat nav dutifully and not questioned where you were going, as you were adamant it remained a surprise.

“Yeah.” You nod, enthusiastically. Leon swears you’ve been bouncing your leg in excitement the whole drive. “We walk through, choose our perfect tree, cut it down and then we take it home.”

“How do we know which one is our perfect tree?”

“We’ll just know when we see it.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and jump out the Jeep, ready to sprint right down to the entrance when Leon grabs hold of your arm, spinning you around to face him.

“Hold on, sweetpea.” He fussed, tugging your hat further down around your ears with gloved fingers. “There. Don’t want you getting sick for your favourite holiday.”

“Thank you.” You smile, lacing your fingers with his and pulling him down the slope towards the tree farm. There’s a wheelbarrow of saws as you enter which you leave Leon to choose his preference – you know he’ll want to do the grand honours – as you grab a sledge to aid with tree retrieval before heading out the forest itself.

“Okay, so as a total tree novice, what are we looking for in particular?”

“Something that’s not too small but not too big, nice shape to it, isn’t already half-dead, has a good smell to it…” You trail off, stopping in front of one that seemed a good size. This first area is a little sparse, only a handful of trees left in the ground but there’s a good acre to explore.

“Smell?”

“That’s half the fun of having a real one – the smell.” You give the tree a gentle shake to find it loses quite a few needles, and turn away to find Leon watching you, intently, resting the saw on his shoulder.

“Like the car air freshener?”

“Kinda, but ten times better when it’s not artificial.” You loop your arm through his. “Come on, plenty more trees to see.”

You enter the next area where it’s more of a thicket, trees of various heights and widths and Leon feels a little overwhelmed at the choice. He hangs back, watching you in your element – slowly walking past each tree to first check if it meets your height criteria and if it does, then looking at it from various angles, hands on your hips, tilt your head before giving a branch or two an experimental shake.

He begins to take note of ones you linger on, getting an idea of what you’re looking for in particular. It’s part of his job after all – observing targets, memorizing certain details. He walks on a little further, scrutinizing each tree in turn before, shaking the branch to see how many needles cast off. After a half a dozen, he stops in front of one, mimicking your head tilt from before, giving a few of the branches a shake and steps back.

“Sweetheart, whatcha think of this one?”

“Hm?” You turn in the direction of his voice, locating him amidst the green before trudging over, looking at the tree in question. He watches, silently, as you go through the motions before turning back to him with a smile so bright he swears it makes his heart skip a beat.

“It’s perfect! You’re a natural.”

“Had a good teacher.”

--

Tree secured safely to the top of the Jeep, you’d pushed Leon into the tree farm’s shop next, a treasure trove of Christmas decorations both classic and tacky and told him to pick up whatever he liked the look of. He’d been quite taken with the rustic wooden decorations – trees, sleighs, woodland animals – and a tin one of a motorcycle, and you’d chosen a standard box of baubles together in colours you’d liked. From there, it was back to the apartment, thankfully the two of you plus tree fit in the elevator, before Leon nipped back down to the Jeep for the new pot and bag of Christmas decorations.

You’d pulled him into the bedroom upon his return, presenting him with plaid pyjama bottoms, a black t-shirt and a Santa hat.

He’d held it between two fingers. “Seriously, sweetheart?”

“Mm-hm.” You nodded, pulling out a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband from behind your back. “Or this.”

He pulled the hat over his head without further complaint.

Between the two of you, now both donned in your pyjamas and festive headgear, and another made-for-TV Christmas film playing in the background on the widescreen, you managed to get the tree situated in its new home for the season before you dived into your box, pulling out a ball of tangled fairy lights and dropping it in his lap.

“Another Christmas tradition you need to experience is untangling the lights.”

He balances it in his palm, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “How about just putting them away properly?”

“I do – always end up like that.” You shrug, getting to your feet.

“Right, and whilst I’m doing this, what will you be doing?”

You lean over the back of the sofa, press a kiss to his crown. “Making you a hot cocoa with all the trimmings. Good luck!”

--

You watch as Leon stretches up and places the star atop the tree – it’s a smidge crooked, but you love it all the same. You’d spent the last hour wrapping it in lights and tinsel, before nestling new and old decorations upon the branches.

You bend down and switch the lights on, illuminating the tree in all its glory. “Perfect,” you declare, before you close your eyes for a moment, bite your lip in thought as Leon watches on with interest.

“What was that about?” He pulls you into his side, wrapping an arm tight around your waist.

“What was what?”

“Closed your eyes there, looked like you were deep in thought.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “It’s silly – my grandfather said to make a wish after you put the star on top of the tree and switch on the lights and then, with some Christmas magic, it would come true.”

“Really?”

“Mm. Give it a go.” You elbow him in the side, teasingly.

“Nah, it won’t work.” He shakes his head.

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“No,” he twirls you round in front of him then, cups your cheek and kisses you, softly. “It won’t work because my Christmas wish has already come true.”

“Okay, I need to dial back on your exposure to Hallmark Christmas movies cos that was cheesy as heck.”

He shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your cheek with a smug look on his face. “You love it.”

“I love you.” You correct, placing your hands on his chest. “Thank you for indulging me all day.”

“Love you more, sweetheart. However, there is one tradition I do have for this time of year that I’d like to share with you.”

“Really? You said you didn’t have any.”

“Mm.” He pulls you back with him onto the sofa, nestling you into his lap and presses a button on the remote control – the DVD player whirring into action.

“Leon Scott Kennedy,” you start with fake indignation, “are you telling me you have a favourite Christmas movie?”

Leon presses a kiss to your temple before he moves his lips to your ear to whisper with a smirk.

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker.”

--

Silly, festive nonsense. Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

[faerygrant]

waiting room - carmen berzatto x reader.

summary: Carmen’s neglect of your relationship finally comes to a boiling point on the eve of your ten month anniversary.

The table had been set, your favourite China, courtesy of Pete and Nat upon their return from a couples trip two months ago. The bathroom adorned with rose petals and illuminated by a fiery orange flame, vanilla bean scent of your overpriced candles billowing throughout. The bubbles hadn’t subsided, still foamy and enlarged, though you were sure the water had probably gone cold by now.

You sunk to your knees, the caps hitting the cold hexagon shaped tiles leaving you to slightly shudder. All at once, you blew the candles out, the itch in your throat only growing. At any moment now you knew you’d crack, it was only a matter of time.

Once the candles were blown out, the tub drained leaving the damp petals to cling to the sides of the bathtub you made your way back to the dining room, the glistening China never failing to catch your attention.

You took a seat, the Picarde you’d worked so hard on preparing for Carmy was still placed in the middle of the table, covered by aluminium foil. The 2006 bottle of Barossa Shiraz, a gift from his uncle, peaked your interest leading you to pour a glass full for yourself.

With your glass in hand, wrapped up in your white robe you scattered out of the dining and into the living area, where you sat solemnly on the sofa. You’d taken off the dress you’d bought specifically for this night, if Carmy couldn’t remember to even show for your ten month anniversary, there was no reason he deserved the effort you put into looking nice for him.

Your relationship had started of very spur of the moment, introduced to him by a friend in highschool you’d lost contact once he set off for New York but still frequently thought about him. Once he was back in Chicago the two of you were set up on a date by said friend and things took off from there. The honeymoon stage had been almost perfect, his time, attention, affection it was all on you. But as the restaurant became busier and business grew, his attention shifted and his attempts to keep you happy had turned lousy.

So here you were, clad in your white bathrobe and a two piece set from agent provocateur you’d planned on surprising him with. A glass of Shiraz in hand and a heart that was slowly breaking every second the man you loved remained away from you.

At least 30 minutes had gone by and by this point the bottle of Shiraz had found it’s way into your lap, when the sound of the keys fiddling sounded from the door.

“Yo, you still up?” Carmen’s voice calls from behind the sofa, though you make no effort to acknowledge him. You can smell a mix of cologne and cigarette on him as he rounds the sofa and takes a seat by you. He makes no mention of your silence, almost as if he doesn’t notice it. Instead he opts to toe off his shoes and stretch into the chair.

“We were fucked today, Syd and I tried to keep shit running smoothly but we shat the bed with the new recipe. Salty as fuck, don’t think that balsamic glaze could save it” he speaks, his hands covering his face as he leans backwards, clad in his usual pristine white tee and black slacks. You once again simply ignore his words, waiting for him to address the elephant in the room.

“You listenin’ or am I talking to myself?” He brings his hands away from his face, finally acknowledging you. You place your glass of wine down and simply shrug.

“Alright what the fuck is the matter? You fuckin ignored my texts all day, I tried not to make a big deal of it, now m’home tryna’ tell you about my day and you’re not sayin’ shit?” He yells, louder than necessary, the vein in his neck bulging like it always does when he’s upset. His outbursts don’t frighten you though, not anymore atleast.

“What day is it today Carmen?” You quietly whisper, arms crossed over the other, your fingers playing with the fuzzy fabric of your robe.

“I-I don’t fuckin’ know, Wednesday?” He questions, elbows on his knees as he stares at you intensely.

“No, I mean what’s the fucking date today Carmen?”

“The 24th, why is this relev-“ he pauses for a second and instantly his eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, oh shit.”

“Exactly.” You mumble, watching as he goes red, already beating himself up.

“I’m so fuckin sorry, I- I fuck- I don’t even- fuck.” He yells, standing up and pacing the living area, refusing to meet your gaze.

“I’m a fuckin idiot, I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin sorry I don’t even know how I could forget I just, I- I don’t know.” He blabbers and you simply shrug. Your silence killing him.

“Say somethin, fucks sakes, anything.” He pleads with you.”

“I have nothing to say Carmen.” You stand from the sofa, face to face with him, his eyes already fling red, tears rolling down his red face and stray hairs sticking to his forehead.

“Please, fuckin take it out on me I deserve it” he grabs your arms placing them against his chest, pleading with you to hurt him like he hurt you.

“Fine, you want me to take it out on you, I will. I planned this whole dinner, a special night for the two of us since you’ve been working nonstop for the last two months and in return you couldn’t even remember our anniversary. I’ve tried Carmy, so hard to be understanding of your job but I can’t be left to wait for you forever.” A lone tear dropping from your eyes, as you watched his face fall in realisation.

“What’re you doin?, hm what’re you tryna say?” He yells with urgency. The purple-ish blue veins bulging and illuminating his pale skin.

“Carmen I’m not going to be left in the waiting room forever, I refuse to be second in a game I know I’ll never win. Your job means the world to you and I’m not going to make you choose.”

“You- I- please don’t do this, don’t do this, please don’t fuckin do this. I- I lo- I love you” He sniffles, hands bringing your face to his, both your heads leaning against the others.

“It’s for the better.” You whisper, eyes closed, forehead against his and heart shattering.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you

[nctsworld]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

#yn brainrot #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan fanfic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

[magewritesstories]

Hi i was just wondering if you could write something of James potter and Fem!reader (established relationship) where basically they are at a Gryfindor party and basically there is this guy who has a huge crush on her and is being low-key creepy about it and it’s just James being the protective bf he is.

If not don’t worry!!!! x

[ ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ ] ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ, ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ

summary: James Potter doesn't share anything, especially not his girlfriend TW: underage drinking note: ngl, I don't see James as the jealous type, but he is super protective. Also idek if Amos was in their year, but for the sake of the story he is.

JAMES POTTER IS NOT A JEALOUS GUY.

Really, he isn't. But dear Godrick he's never wanted to bash someone's head in with a bottle of firewhiskey so badly—but that might just be the empty bottle talking.

He watched from a good ten feet away as Amos Diggory flirted with you with a wide smirk.

As mentioned before, James wasn't a jealous guy. He couldn't blame the stares you got whilst walking through the halls, or the way some eyes would linger when you laughed a little too loudly at one of his dumb jokes.

You were stunning, and James didn't blame people for seeing that. Hell, he was glad they did. Besides, he couldn't ignore the tiny ego boost he got from the fact that at the end of the day he was your boyfriend and not any of them.

Amos however didn't seem to understand that.

James's eyes narrowed as he slung his arm around you oh-so casually as he told a (probably stupid) joke. You gave him a small smile, a polite one—yep, definitly a stupid joke.

"You planning on murdering Diggory by glaring, mate?" Siruis asked, walking over to his best friend with a grin, "I'm afraid you're not one of those guys from Peter's superhero books—hey wormy, which one was it? With the laser eyes?"

Peter looks up from his drink in confusion, "Superman?"

"Yeah, that one," Sirius snapped his fingers, "So, is that your plan? Burning Diggory with you laser eyes?"

"The only thing burning in here is Prongs," Remus replied with a laugh. James rolled his eyes, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lily decided to join in on the conversation and added in a teasing tone: "Really, 'cause you look a little uhm... green."

"I'm not jealous, I don't get jealous," He replied with a scoff, glancing in your direction again, "Especially not of guys like Amos Diggory."

His friends all gave him sceptical looks as he grabbed another bottle of fire whiskey. "Why would I be jealous. I have nothing to be jealous about," He insisted, staring intently as Amos dragged you and Dorcas towards the dance floor.

"What about the fact that he's already asked out Y/N like three times?" Peter replied casually. The entire friendgroup turned towards him, "What?"

He jsut shrugged, "Yeah, he just asked her out three times in the past two hours—watching him get rejected twice was awkward, the third time it was just sad."

"And you're mentioning this now?!"

"I thought you knew, I mean you've been staring at them the entire night."

James put down his bottle of firewhiskey and made his way over to the two of you.

"That's not fair—you're just Slughorn's favourite," You replied, smiling as you whirled the drink in your hand.

Amos grinned at you, "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent more time actually listening during class you'd be able to catch up with me. Maybe."

You rolled you eyes at the statement. "Oh, please, Diggory, if anything I'm doing you a favour. If I actually tried during classes I'd leave you in the dust."

"Oh, yeah?" The blond asked, raising a brow at you, "Maybe I should return the favour by taking you to Honeydukes this weekend."

"Hmm, no, I think I'm good," You reply as politely as you can, mustering a small smile.

This was the fourth time Amos had asked you out in the past two hours. And also the fourth time you'd rejected him.

How did he not know you had a boyfriend? You'd think that after that kiss (read: pretty much a make-out session) with James after Gryffindor beat (read: wiped the floor with) Hufflepuff last quidditch match, people would know the two of you were dating.

Apparantly not.

"Besides—" A loud, familiar voice sounded as James put his arm around you shoulder— "We've already got plans for this weekend."

The brunette give you a sloppy kiss and a satisfied grin, "Don't we, babe?"

You smile and nod. "Mhm, you promised me a drink at the Three Broomsticks."

Amos looked between you and James as you gave eachother lovesick stares.

Maybe you were laying it on extra thick just for Amos but they were lovesick stares nonetheless.

"Oh, uhm, well then..." He stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence. James turned to him with a raised brow, "Well, maybe you should be heading towards the firewhiskey."

Amos seemed to take the hint. Finally. He quickly scurried away and out of your sight.

You let out a sigh, "Thank you—for someone so smart that guy really doesn't know how to take a hint."

"Well, good thing you got me then," James replied, grinning from ear to ear as he kissed you again, "Your own personal superman."

You swung your arms around his neck and smiled into the kiss, "Mhm, so lucky."

words → 813

#james potter x reader #james potter #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #james potter headcanons #james potter fic #james potter x you #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #amos diggry #gryffindor x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders x y/n #james potter x y/n

[caramelberzatto]

To Love Carmy Berzatto

Loving Carmy is... I'm not even sure if I could find the right words to encapsulate it for you, dear reader, but I will try.

Loving him brings with it an intensity rivalled only by wildfire. Strong and vibrant, untamed, unpredictable. It takes a great deal of bravery, of honesty and time.

Muttered revelations of past pain, resting your head on his shoulder as he talks; stilted sentences, furrowed brows, the way his nose scrunches when he's trying to explain things that hurt, as though he can't truly comprehend why he feels the way he does.

It's brutally strong coffee, and autumn afternoons. Blazing reds and oranges, bouquets of marigold. Leafy bunches of fresh farmer's market herbs, stored in spare mugs full of water atop the kitchen counter. It's forgetting to close a window all the way, allowing the cold to seep through the apartment, only for that to leave an excuse for an extra ten minutes tangled up beneath the blankets with him the next morning.

Loving Carmy is accidental intoxication, it's not seeing it coming at all. Until that feeling in your stomach, in your chest, a warmth that envelops you. Anticipation of seeing him again, even if you'd waved goodbye only a few minutes prior.

It's late nights waiting up for him, even though your eyelids droop as the television flickers. It's recognising his footsteps, the jingle of his keys in the door. It's taking in his tired gaze, the gentle uptilt of his lips as he sees you, still awake, even though he constantly reassures you that you should go to sleep. He's always secretly glad you don't listen to him.

It's dates to various markets, either food markets, art markets, wherever. It doesn't matter. It's just market days spent, hand in hand, sipping coffee as you walk. It's sharing wired headphones on the train, having a playlist of both his and your favourite songs. It's finding a sketch of yourself in Carmy's office at The Beef, on a sticky note, tucked between the pages of the big, messy binder.

It's noticing his clothes start to smell like your laundry detergent, or his hair to smell like your shampoo. It's the gentle incorporation of him into your life, so effortlessly, so seamlessly.

It's the build up of trust, it's the revelation of secrets. It's finding out about his brother one Winter afternoon, on a train ride through the city as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. His quiet words, a story of boyhood, a desperation for comradery, a series of self-inflicted trials to be noticed, seen, appreciated by his older brother. He just wanted to impress him.

Carmy had always just wanted to be part of something.

Loving him is the very definition of a slowburn, a staggered compiling of trust and care and tenderness. Millions of tiny moments, shared glances, quiet whispers, admissions of regret and guilt, feelings that you both struggle to put into words at times.

It's two steps forward, one step back, but there's always this.... one remaining constant that survives through even the most difficult of moments. Devotion. The two of you cannot help but care about each other, deeply. It's sticking with each other because there is so much love, so much adoration, care, all of it.

And all of it pays off. If you fight, you make up with kisses and apologies and long nights in his arms. Or he sits you down at his table and feeds you, each meal a white flag of sorts.

I feel like this is kind of messy, but I hope, dear reader, that you understand what I'm trying to say.

Loving Carmen Berzatto....... yeah.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you

[luveline]

Hi! Could you please write a daddy-daughter day with Roan and Eddie? Like Eddie and Roan listening to Eddie's music, going to Wayne's, and just doing cute things like when Reader went out with her friends please?

hi sweetheart yes I can, I loved this idea, tyty! dad!eddie x fem!reader, 3k (cw reader is tipsy at the end)

"Okie-smokie," you say, standing at the door with two options. "Ro, pink or silver?" 

You show Roan your earrings. Eddie crams his foot into his sneaker and ties the laces, listening as Roan deliberates your two choices. "I think you should wear the pink ones because you have pink gems on your bracelet." 

He can hear your smile. "I think so too. Thank you, lovely girl." 

"Roan, you have your shoes on still?" Eddie asks, toeing into his second shoe. He stands tall when he's done and brushes down his jeans. "Coat?" 

"I don't know where my coat is," she says. 

"I'll get it," you say. "It's in our room." 

"Okay. You have your purse?" Eddie asks. 

You laugh as you run up the stairs. "Stop doing your dad checklist! We have everything." 

Roan waits by the door in what Eddie believes to be her nicest outfit ever. He's been experimenting with elaborate hairstyles, and this one takes the cake. 

He'd woken her up early for a shower and washed her hair, some tactile bonding to start what's looking to be a great day. She'd nearly fallen back asleep, and again when he was drying it with the cold diffuser. After that he sectioned it and pulled two triangular sections from the front backward, and with the help of four rubber bands and a little bit of hair mousse, he secured it out of her face, curled and pretty. 

She's wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt under stiff black dungarees with black sneakers. You suggested white sneakers, but Eddie joked that he wouldn't make her look too perfect (her white sneakers are full of mud from when they went looking for frogs last weekend, and he hasn't told you yet). 

"Hey, can you get her, uh, her blue jacket? The navy one? I think her vinyl coat will be too uncomfortable with the short sleeves." 

You appear on the top step already holding it. "I'm psychic." 

Once Roan has been helped into her coat and Eddie's made sure you both have money and water, he locks the door to your (his) house with his key. It took him a long time to start calling it his house. Not that he ever thought you'd shoot him out of it. So far, there hasn't been a day since you got together where he worried it wouldn't last. 

And here the kissing begins. 

You might pretend otherwise, but Eddie knows you're jealous of today. Not in a cruel way, the envy isn't eating you alive or anything, but he knows you wishes you could come, and he also knows you know that's not how these kinds of days work. If you're with them, Eddie would have to share his attention. Alone with Roan, he can pour it all in. You're not so codependent as to resent that, and you're happy for them. But again, you're jealous. 

"Why did I make plans?" you ask him, your hands bunched in his t-shirt. 

"Because you'll have fun," he says, dipping his head down to kiss you. 

You smile and lift one shoulder. "I will. You have fun too, okay?" You bend at the waist to kiss Roan's cheek. After a moment, you kiss the other. "My big girl, you look so grown up today, we should've taken more photos." 

"I think ten was enough," Roan says.

"It wasn't," you and Eddie say at the same time. You sigh morosely, though it's not entirely genuine. 

"Okay, I love you both. Say hi to Uncle Wayne for me." 

"We love you," Eddie says. You pout and get in your car. You've parked behind him, so they stand waving at you as you leave. "She loves you so much," Eddie says to Roan. 

Roan shrugs her shoulders, pleased and trying to be humble about it. "Dad," she grumbles. 

He puts Roan in her car seat and they drive to Uncle Wayne's for lunch. It's not far, but it's enough to listen to Roan's tape, featuring her current favourite song, a nonsensical rock song called 'She Don't Use Jelly' by The Flaming Lips. It's not Eddie's taste but it's worth it just to listen to Roan shouting along to the song, her building excitement before she gets to sing, "He uses maaaa-gazines!" 

After that is Sheryl Crow. Eddie wants to switch the tape to something harder but Roan's already singing, and it's so funny to hear her sing 'All I Wanna Do' that he can't make himself change it. He rolls down the windows so she can feel the wind on her face and she dances in her seat, tripping over the words with gusto. 

Sheryl Crow is all your influence. As soon as the song ends he pops the tape and drives the car at a crawl. He's had Roan's favourite, and then yours, but now it's time for real music. He isn't raising no prep. 

Roan is more than used to rock music. She loves it most of the time, though her taste complicates as she ages. Eddie puts on a tape you made him painstakingly at Christmastime full of ripped live performances, the sort of music you can't find on CD yet. The very first song is 'Sad But True', Metallica live from Mexico, '93. Roan bobs her head up and down with the beat. Eddie literally could not be more proud, better when she pulls out her air guitar and challenges him on who's best. 

After almost crashing the car into the picnic bench on Wayne's front yard, Eddie pulls Roan out, and grins as she races up the steps to the door. She doesn't knock —Wayne's home is Eddie's home is her home. 

"Uncle Wayne!" she bellows. 

The smell of sausages and fried onions is inescapable. Eddie loves Wayne, and he loves his extra special hotdogs, but he can already sense the mess Roan's about to make. Ketchup stains have defeated half her wardrobe over the years. 

Wayne's turning from the stove with a huge grin. He wipes his hands on a rag and chucks it at the counter, bending down with his arms opening to catch Roan as she sprints at him. 

"Oh," he groans, "Hi, Roanie. Where have you been? I told your dad eleven thirty, and it's almost twelve." 

"We had to help Y/N find her nice pants," she says, wrapping her arms around Wayne's neck. 

Wayne gives her a grandfatherly squeeze, adoring but nonchalant. 

"We didn't have to help," Eddie says, "but she made breakfast, so it would've been mean to not help." 

"Still sounds like dad's fault," Wayne says. "Yeah?" 

"Yes," Roan says, turning in Wayne's arms to beam at her betrayed father. 

Wayne kisses her head and puts her down. He asks how you are, to which Eddie can answer honestly. You're good, and you're very happy lately making wedding arrangements even though you don't know what you're doing for lots of it. Roan is still torn on whether she wants to be the best man or the maid of honour. You'd been winning, until Eddie told her she could still wear a dress as best man. 

The hotdogs are ready for eating straight away. Unlike Eddie, Wayne is prepared for Roan's mess. He pins a bib around her that he's had since she was two with a rabbit on the front. It should've been trashed a while ago, but in a show of quiet love, Wayne scrubs it spotless every single time she wears it. The white background is still a bright white. 

They eat hot dogs and talk about nothing. Wayne and Eddie see each other every single day, but Wayne and Roan definitely don't. Now that she's getting older, there's been talks of consistent sleepovers. Eddie doesn't want Wayne to spend all week in work and then have her on the weekend because, while she is an absolute delight, Roan is also hard work, and especially on Fridays when she's tired. But Wayne wants to have her, and Roan loves him more than anything, so sooner or later Eddie's going to have to say yes. 

He won't lie, he could use the break. But not tonight. 

"Dad," Roan says, fried onions and bread falling down her front and back onto her plate.

"Yes, my rude girl?" 

She licks her lips. Wayne tilts her head back to wipe her mouth clean with a paper towel. "Thank you, Uncle Wayne. Dad, can we get a movie tonight?" 

"Yeah, babe, we can get a movie, but I thought you wanted to go to the Hawk?" 

"There's no space for talking in the Hawk." 

"And you want to talk to me," he summarises. 

"Duh. Wayne, can I have more smustard, please?" she asks through chews. 

Wayne meets Eddie's eyes as he squirts mustard on her hotdog. It's a look Eddie didn't know he wanted to see until Wayne started giving it, a mixture of she's funny and you're raising a good one, kid. 

Eddie cleans up the hotdog mess before Wayne can stop him and they dawdle, not wanting to leave but with things to do. They're ten minutes late for their manicure appointments. 

The Hawkins manicurists are slightly judgemental middle-aged women who love Roan. They've seen her a couple of times, once when Eddie had been on a few dates with you but was far from your boyfriend, and Roan wanted, "Pretty nails, like Y/N," after she'd seen your painted nails for a wedding, and then a couple of times after with you, but it's been a while since he was here, and the new young nail technician surprises Eddie. 

"Hi," she says, smiling at Roan, "I know you, don't I? You and your mom came in a couple of weeks ago. How did your gems last?" 

"They came off when we went waterfall walking," Roan says, sounding exuberantly pleased by this. 

"Wow, waterfall walking, that sounds fun!"

"Yes!" 

Eddie grabs Roan under the armpits to help her into the tall chair. "It was fun until her wellies split. She had cold feet." 

"Oh no. What do we want today, miss adventurer? The same as last time, or are we trying something new?" 

Roan looks up at Eddie. He takes a seat beside her, her coat in his lap. "Whatever you want, Ro. No, um, extensions though." 

"No, I wouldn't suggest it," says the nail tech. "Maybe I can show you some pictures and you can see if you like something? I can do whatever you want me to." 

Roan ends up asking for nails that look like the ocean. The nail technician is an artist, creating a beautiful illusion of real water on her nails, and colourful sea creatures on the nails big enough to accommodate them. 

"Are you bringing your wife back soon?" the nail tech asks, covering Roan's skin with her hand as her nails cure under a UV lamp. 

"She's not married, yet," Roan says. 

"She's my fiancé," Eddie says mildly. He kind of liked wife better. "And she doesn't let me spoil her often, so probably not." 

"She couldn't stop talking about you," the nail tech says. "And you," —she nods at Roan— "I was kind of jealous. I'm still jealous. I hope my baby comes out as pretty as you." 

"You're having a baby?" Roan asks, gasping, almost knocking over the UV lamp. 

"I am! Yeah, I am, she's not coming anytime soon though. But by Christmas I'll have her." The nail tech brings a buffing file to Roan's pinky finger and sands against the edge gently. "She better be as nice as you, miss adventurer." 

"I think Ro might be one of a kind," Eddie says. 

Roan smiles at him as though he's hung the moon. 

They visit the video store after the nail salon, hand in hand. Roan is more than ecstatic at the aquarium on her nails, and it's making her sweet. She walks as close to Eddie as she can without stepping on his shoes, and doesn't let go for anything. Or, almost anything. 

"Steve!" she shouts when she sees him, Harrington himself bent over the kids aisle arranging movies. 

"Oh, no," he groans. Roan runs full pelt at him and he pretends to almost fall over. Roan laughs and tugs him back up, and he says thank you with a short hug. "Hi, Roan." He looks up to see Eddie, and glares with a mock disdain. "You. Where's my spirit level?" 

"Your–" Eddie's lips part, and then snap shut. "My bad, Stevie. I still have it, I swear."

"Well give it back, I want to mount my new TV on the wall and I can't because you never answer the phone." 

"I do," Eddie protests. 

"No, you don't, I think I've spoken more to Y/N since you moved in with her than I've spoken to you. Which, actually, I prefer her. And I want you to invite her to my housewarming party next week." 

"Am I invited, too?" Roan asks. 

Steve smiles at her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Of course you are. Robin's going to bring Mr. Stink too." 

Mr. Stink is Robin's big fat tabby cat. Roan loves him so much she cries every time she has to say goodbye to him.

Eddie and Steve hug and only pat each other on the back once, which is progress. Having guessed why they're there, Steve pulls them into the backroom to show her all the new kids movies, and lets Roan pick as many as she wants to put on his account. Despite his hug and his party invitation, Of course you're invited too, Steve glares at Eddie fiercely from across the checkout counter. "Do not bring them back late, Munson. You cost me six dollars, last time." 

"And I tried to give it back to you," Eddie says, the bag of movies hanging from his elbow, Roan the other. 

"Don't insult me. Bye, my favourite Munson, make sure you bring me a nice drawing for my new fridge," Steve says. He speaks much more kindly to Roan than he does Eddie, but Eddie doesn't think for a moment that Steve doesn't like him. They've just always been like this. 

"Okay! Tell Robin I miss her, please, and Mr. Stinky." 

"Anything for you. Bye, bye," he calls. 

Eddie waves at him and they stroll out of the video store like kings, Eddie with all their movies and Roan with one of the huge bags of ready popped popcorn. She's walking on sunshine with every step, nearly skipping by the time they reach the car. 

He doesn't understand it. Eddie's just Eddie. He doesn't get it, but he has a moment when he's strapping her back into her third car seat, knowing one day she's gonna be so tall they can get away with a booster seat. One day she won't need a car seat at all. He just loves her so much he can’t handle it. 

"Show me those nails again, babe," he says. 

She pulls her wrist up, her fingers hanging down, and says, "Lookit." 

He loves her. She learned it from you. You'd done it as a joke, Roan does it because it makes her feel cool. 

"Gorgeous." He pulls her hands into his. "What else do you want to do today?" 

She shrugs. Eddie strokes down a crop of windblown baby hairs with a licked thumb, waiting for her to decide, but she must get distracted. She reaches out to do the same to him, moving his hair behind his ear. 

"That's for me," she says, looking at the little 'R' behind his ear. 

"Yeah, that's for you. I was going to get your full name, but I couldn't take the pain," he lies. 

Her nose wrinkles in amusement. "Then how did you get the big ones on your arms?" 

"I was less of a crybaby when I had those ones." 

"You're not a crybaby, dad," Roan says, giggling.

He pouts and sniffles at her. "You really mean that?" he asks tearfully. 

Roan pushes his shoulder lightly. 

"Did you decide what you want to do?" 

She nods vehemently. When she tells him what she wants, Eddie really could burst into tears. 

You're a little tiny bit tipsy when you come home that night. You try not to show it, but Eddie knows you better than he knows the back of his own hand, and as soon as you sit down he's taking big sniffs of you to make sure you know you've been found out. 

"Stop, you're like a puppy," you grumble fondly. "Wait, where's my Ro?" 

"Bathroom. Come here, let me take your shoes off." 

You lift a tired foot into his lap. "I had, uh, a margarita. And a cosmo, too. It was happy hour!" 

"Sweetheart, I couldn't care less what hour it was as long as you had fun." 

You preen, your face swinging into his shoulder. One of your earrings jabs his bicep. "Did you have a good day with Roan?" 

"We had a great day." He struggles to get your shoe off as you slide down his arm. "Maybe my favourite day with her I've ever had that wasn't with you." 

"Really? I'm so happy. Oh, wow, what? Nice nails, handsome." 

You pull his hands into your lap. They're painted in a uniform black, but there's a clownfish painted on his thumbnail. "They're super goth," you say. 

"You think so?" 

"The clownfish is a choice. Can I get one too?" 

Eddie kisses your flushed cheek. "Yeah, babe. The nail tech tried to get me to have a seahorse–" 

"Bit on the nose." 

"Exactly," he laughs. "Exactly. But our day was awesome. She was such an angel, and she must've made everyone smile everywhere we went, she–" Eddie sits up, speaking with pride in every word. "We went to Wayne's, and the nail salon, and the video store because she said the movies aren't good for talking and she wanted to talk to me, and I asked her if she wanted to do anything else, and she said," —Eddie squeezes your thigh— "she'd do anything as long as we could have a hug." 

"She has you in the palm of her hand," you laugh, looking up at him with eyes nearly closed. 

Roan skips into the room, hands dripping water, and catapults herself over the armrest back into Eddie's lap. Without asking, she dries her hands on his t-shirt. 

"Hello, princess," you say. 

Roan drags the half-eaten bag of popcorn over to your side. "Hi. I saved you some." 

You take a handful of popcorn and promptly spill it down the front of your shirt. Roan helps you by picking them off of you and eating them, cramming her mouth until her cheeks have chipmunked. 

"Don't do that, you'll choke," Eddie says.

"I won't," she says, little bits of popcorn spraying him. 

"Ro," he laughs, his hand held over her mouth, laughing so hard it wobbles her in his lap. 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[elliesbelle]

ELLIE WITH A SWEET DUMB OBLIVIOUS GIRLFRIEND!!! ELLIE WITH A SWEET DUMB OBLIVIOUS GI- [GUNSHOTS]

ellie with an oblivious girlfriend

there’s nobody else in the world you feel safer with than ellie

she’s your protector and she always looks out for you

and thank god she does

one of the things ellie loves most about you is how genuinely sweet and thoughtful you are

you think of others first, you’re reassuring and kind, you’re a very giving person

however, you can also be ditzy and forgetful, which ellie finds endearing but it also puts her on extra alert constantly

you’ll wake up earlier than her to cook breakfast for both you of you, and by the time she walks in, you’ll be setting out the finished product on the dining table

she walks in with a sleepy “mornin’ babe” and a yawn, and as she sees the breakfast set-up you’ve made, she begins to smile

but before she can praise you, she smells something weird from the kitchen and immediately bounds in to find you’ve forgotten to turn the stove off

thankfully it was just an empty pan on top of it and the burner was on a lower setting

you rush in after her as she turns the dial to “off” and you immediately start to apologize tearfully

“oh fuck, el, i’m so sorry, i can’t believe i keep fucking doing that. i didn’t mean it, baby—”

ellie interrupts you by pulling you into an embrace and kissing your forehead

“hey, hey, it’s okay. no harm done. don’t freak out.”

you let her peck you on the lips before she continues

“we’ll work on it, okay? can’t have you burning the place down. but i’m not mad, alright?”

she places another kiss on your forehead as you whisper a soft “okay”

“now, i’m pretty hungry,” she continues. “whatever you made smells really fucking good. let’s go eat, alright?”

your forgetfulness applies to misplacing things too

whether it’s your keys or your favourite pair of shoes, it’s not uncommon for something to go missing

in the game’s universe, ellie will be knocking on your door ten minutes before you both have to go for a morning patrol

you were supposed to meet up with her for breakfast at the tipsy bison earlier but you never showed

she hears you go, "one second!!" followed by the sound of things being thrown around

ellie's concerned, so she lets herself in where she's greeted by you ransacking your house

"uhh, babe?" she says and you turn to her with an overwhelmed look on your face

"oh! i'm so sorry el, i know i'm running so late. i just can't find my favourite pistol anywhere, and you know i can't leave jackson without it, i—"

you keep rambling and only stop when ellie unzips her backpack and pulls out the exact pistol you've been searching for all morning

you squeal and say, "OH MY GOD, BABE, WHERE DID YOU—"

she chuckles and hands it to you, saying, "you left it in shimmer's saddle yesterday, remember?"

you place the gun down on the table and lunge to give her a hug

"thankyouthankyouthankyou, what would i do without you?" you say

she gives you a quick kiss before going, "go get ready, silly girl. jesse's gonna kill us if we're late."

while you're in the other room quickly getting dressed, she's straightening the room up and putting things back where they belong

in a modern au, you'll be just as forgetful

it'll be a saturday and you're asleep in her arms and you're woken up by her alarm going off way too early

she reaches over to turn it off and you expect her to turn back to snuggle you but instead, she gets up from bed and draws the blinds to let the morning sunlight in

you groan and lift the blanket over your face

"ellieeeee, whyyyyy"

she chuckles and makes her way over to your side of the bed and pulls the blanket down

"wakey wakey, eggs and bakey" she says, giving you a morning kiss

"no eggs and bakey, it is still night-night time" you whine. "close the blinds, baby"

ellie strokes your cheek and says, "gotta get up, pretty girl. you got therapy this morning."

you kiss the hand that she's stroking your cheek with and say, "no, therapy's tomorrow"

"nope, today, baby." ellie flashes her phone at you to show her calendar app which says your therapy appointment starts in an hour

you groan again and say, "can i skip it today and you come back to bed and cuddle me?"

ellie attacks your neck with kisses and says, "tempting, but still gotta go, baby. i'll cuddle you when we get back, okay?"

you pout, hoping it'll convince ellie

but she's pulling your sleepy ass out of bed two seconds later

you're someone who sees the good in others

which ellie admires you for, but unfortunately means that people will take advantage

the worst is when people start hitting on you

whether it’s a man or a woman, ellie gets territorial regardless

she does react differently though, depending on who’s trying to flirt with her girl

with men, there’s a cockiness to her, knowing that you could unintentionally get their hopes up with your sweet and pleasant demeanor, but in the end? they’d have no chance

but with women? ellie is 10x more possessive

she trusts you and knows that you’re not actually flirting; you’re naturally friendly and affectionate

but she doesn’t like when she sees the way other women look you up and down, drinking you in with a hungry expression on their faces

in the game’s universe, you’ll be at the tipsy bison one night with ellie, dina, and jesse

you all share a table together, and when the bottle of alcohol you’d all been sharing runs low, you volunteer to get another from the bar

you expect maria to be who serves you, but instead it’s a guy your age who you’d seen around town but don’t interact with often

as you walk up to the bar, he spots you and flashes a huge smile

“hey pretty, lady,” he says. “what can i get for you?”

you smile back, not catching the obvious flirting in his greeting

ellie’s eyes were on you since you left the table

usually, she just enjoys being able to look at you every second she has just so she can admire your presence

but this time, it was to suspiciously squint at you and the barman you were currently conversing with

you were giving him an innocent smile, one that she fell in love with so long ago

but the way he looked at you like something he’d like to devour? she muttered a quiet “be right back” to dina and jesse before appearing at your side

you’re laughing politely at something the guy is saying when ellie surprises you by wrapping her arms around your waist

“yeah, i’m—oh! el, you scared me!” you giggle as she pulls you close

she gives you a quick smile before staring at the barman straight on with an intimidating glare

he regards the way ellie’s holding you before he meets ellie's angry green eyes

"everything good here, babe?" she asks you pointedly

"yeah! just grabbing a bottle for us. is everything okay? did you guys need something else?" you ask her

"nah, just missed you." she replies, giving you a kiss on the cheek

the barman, who was taking his time getting you a fresh bottle, quickly assesses the situation and guesses correctly that ellie is not someone to be fucked with

he hands you the bottle but ellie grabs it instead

"thanks, man" she says cooly

she leads you back to dina and jesse, but not before she gives the barman one last smug look

in a modern au, you'll be waiting for ellie to pick you up from the train station to take you home after you'd visited some friends

as you wait in the kiss-and-ride area, some sleazeball approaches you and starts up a conversation

you're too nice to say no and you just assume it's just someone trying to make conversation

ellie eventually pulls up and finds you chatting with the stranger

you see her car and wave and immediately grab your bags

"oh, my girlfriend is here! have a nice day!" you say

"oh man," the sleazeball says. "leaving already? can i at least get a hug?"

"oh, uh—" you begin, but he's mostly there already and you concede to give him a half-hearted hug with one arm

you make your way to ellie's car and get into the passenger's seat, greeting her happily and hurling your bags into the backseat

"who was that?" ellie asks after she greets you back

"who?"

"that guy you just hugged."

"oh, i don't know. just some guy who came up to me a few minutes ago and started chatting. he asked for a goodbye hug." you respond, shrugging

"babe," ellie sighs. "you can't just—you can't just let random guys touch you like that."

"he was just being friendly, el!"

"trust me, baby," she says, glaring at the man who was still staring at you from where he was. "he wasn't."

before you can respond, ellie kisses you passionately and you melt instantly

she kisses you because she misses you, but she also wants this strange man to see that you were unavailable and unattainable

as she pulls away, you're flustered at your girlfriend's boldness

you giggle nervously, not noticing as she glowers at the sleazeball who's now scowling

she drives away as she places her hand on your thigh like usual, pleased with herself and making a mental note to make sure to be ten minutes early to pick you up from anywhere from now on

in the game's universe, you'll be coming home from patrol with a new girl that maria had asked you to train

you were assigned to a fairly easy and tame route that day and maria thought that you'd be a good teacher for this newcomer

this newcomer was very friendly and very bold, and when she'd been told she was assigned to patrol with you that day, she was excited and made plans to ask you out afterwards

she'd seen you during her first couple of weeks in jackson and she'd been itching for a chance to chat you up

you hadn't noticed her much prior to your patrol with her, but ellie did

she noticed her the day that she arrived because the second the new girl laid her eyes on you, ellie could tell she liked what she saw

when you'd told her you were training her, ellie said nothing about the very obvious crush this newcomer had on you

ellie trusted you, but that didn't stop her from worrying

she'd made dina come back from their patrol earlier than usual so she could be there when you'd come back from yours (which earned her an annoyed but playful eye-roll from dina)

ellie was brushing shimmer's mane when you came into the stables with your horse along with the new girl

she frowned when she looked up to see the new girl eagerly helping you down from your horse

you gave the girl a smile and a thank you before spotting ellie waiting for you

your smile widened when you saw her and you practically jumped on her to give her a hug

"hi, baby! you're back from patrol already?" you ask as you pull away slightly to look at her better

"yeah, not much action on mine and dina's route," ellie lied. "missed you, pretty girl."

"you saw me this morning, dummy." you chuckle

"and i missed you," ellie reiterated. "can't help it."

you give her a loving smooch, which ellie gladly reciprocates and takes a step further as she lifts you up and swings you around

she smiles at your giggles and your noncommital whines to put you down, smirking internally about putting on a show in front of the new girl

the new girl who looked at the scene, defeated and irritated, and who you also had completely forgotten about

in a modern au, you'll be visiting a lesbian bar with ellie

you both needed to unwind and you were both slowly getting tipsier by the second

she excuses herself to the bathroom for a few minutes, but not before giving you a quick kiss and a promise to return quickly

she's not gone for five minutes before she returns and finds that some other girl is leaning on her barstool and chatting you up

she could tell that you were being friendly and sweet as always, but the other girl's body language told a different story

the girl has left by the time she makes it back to where you were sitting

your face lights up like it always does when you see her

"scoring some dates?" ellie jokes, even if she's seething internally

"oh, just someone being nice, that's all" you reply

"uh huh," ellie says as she takes her seat, handing your purse back to you that you'd placed on top of her stool to avoid someone taking it

"el, not everyone is out here looking to sleep with me." you say to her, pushing a stray hair behind her ear

"really?" she says before lifting the napkin her drink was sitting on to reveal a piece of paper with a number scribbled over it

you look at it for a second and say, "that doesn't mean she was hitting on me!"

ellie rolls her eyes and says, "you are far too beautiful to not get hit on when we're in a lesbian bar"

"lesbians need friends too, el" you reply

ellie pulls out the piece of paper from underneath the napkin and lifts it up to your eye level, revealing the girl's phone number and a note that said "call me xx" right underneath it

you stare at it for a second before saying, "do you think i should call her?"

you laugh as ellie rolls her eyes at you and playfully gets up to leave

"i'm kidding, baby, i'm kidding!" you snicker, gripping ellie's tattooed arm and pulling her back down to her stool. "come back here, silly."

"you sure it's me and not your new girlfriend that you want to sit here with you?" ellie taunts

"is this new girlfriend gonna take care of me better than you do?" you ask, pulling ellie close to you by her collar

"probably not" she says, staring at your lips

"that's what i thought." you say before you lean in and kiss her so intensely that she completely forgets all about that other girl within seconds

author's notes:

sorry for taking a bit to respond to this! hope this is what you meant hehe

oops sorry for going off on this dslkfjsfds

enjoy the header pic of ellie here cause i took that myself in photo mode in my own playthrough of tlou2 a few days ago hehe

also the forgetfulness part is me being inspired by myself because i have adhd and i’m annoyingly forgetful oops

also that kiss-and-ride one was something that happened to me years ago when i was waiting for my gf to pick me up from the station one time lmao

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

#anon #ellie williams #ellie headcanons #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #belle speaks #belle answers #belle writes

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

The sunlight disorients him.

Usually, he wakes to a blaring alarm. If he has no alarm set, nothing planned for the day, he wakes when he cannot physically stand the taste of his own breath anymore, stumbling out of bed and ambling like a zombie for the nearest toothbrush. (On rare, rare occasions, he wakes to humming – low, drawling, lilting, floating around his darkened room, brightening it. He dreams about those mornings.)

He cannot remember the last time he woke to gentle sun.

Stretching, he takes a minute to catalogue the space as he wakes up, noticing the light curtains over wide windows, small TV tucked in between two double beds, and a desk, larger than he would have expected, taking up the far right corner.

Will is nowhere to be found.

“Jogging, mebbe,” Nico mumbles to himself; tiny, forgotten accent slipping out before he can stop it. Gingerly, he peels off the blankets and pads to the bathroom. Will’s blue-capped toothbrush sits next to the sink, quelling Nico’s ridiculous anxiety that Will, actually, has never been here at all, and Nico dreamed this whole thing up. He smiles slightly at the dorky stickers plastered all over the handle, colour mostly worn away, and the watch forgotten next to the soap dispenser. 

He hears a heavy door open and shut, pausing to make out quiet footsteps over the running water. Quickly rinsing the suds off his face, he towels off and steps back out into the hotel room, watching his friend.

Will has his back turned, hunched over the desk. He wears a hoodie, blue with big white clouds all over it – his favourite – and, of course, horrible cargo shorts. Nico counts seven pockets, and that’s just what he can see from the back. There is a book shoved in two of them, keys hanging out of a third, and an apple bulging from the pocket near his hip.

“Morning.”

Will jumps, whirling around. 

“You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” Nico says, not sorry. He’s grinning. “Were you out for a run?”

“I was out for a run hours ago, yes. It’s, like, ten-thirty, dude. You’ve been sleeping for eight hundred years.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’ve had this argument more times than he can physically count, he refuses to have it again when he doesn’t have the upper hand. He’ll bring it up again when Will’s sleepy again at nine o’clock. “Where were you?”

Will steps to the side, revealing three separate heaping plates of food on the desk, piled high with eggs, toast, a muffin, bacon, and, of course, an entire plate devoted to fruit. Nico descends upon it like a swarm of seagulls upon a terrorized child’s ice cream cone – with fury, insatiable hunger, and endless hubris. He makes sure to ignore the fruit.

Five minutes later, he’s satiated enough to turn a percentage of his attention away from the food. He spins the desk chair halfway to face Will, instead, curled up on the bed with one knee pulled to his chest, watching him fondly.

“How many times did you almost drop this on the way up?” he asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Will’s smile drops, eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

“Four floors, and there’s a good chance you took the stairs to keep the elevators for ‘someone who needs them more’, so –”

“I hate you.”

“– I’m guessing one time per flight of stairs? Oh, wait, there are three plates, definitely more –”

“I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again.”

“– and you have a new band-aid on your knee, so you definitely tripped and dropped it at least once.” He pops the last of the bacon in his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Twice? Three times? If you don’t tell me I’m going to assume six and move on.”

Will’s glare intensifies. He mumbles something.

“Hm?”

He mumbles again. Nico doesn’t even pretend not to be delighted. He knows the smile on his face is wide enough to make him look deranged, he simply doesn’t care. Opportunities to press Will’s buttons this beautiful do not show up every day. He must treasure them.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Hadtogoback.”

“Gonna have to speak up, bud.”

“I had to go back!” Will explodes, hands thrown in the air. “I fuckin’ – I dropped the stupid plates, the first time, so I had to fuckin’ – clean it up and – two stupid trips, you jerk, you better appreciate this –”

Nico almost bites through his lip. “You dropped it?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Will says defensively. “I was concentrating really hard but –”

Nico loses it.

“– my shoe got caught on the last step and I didn’t have any hands to catch myself.” He scowls. “Three people saw.”

He can’t breathe. There are genuine, actual tears streaming down his face, burn in his eyes almost as bad as the burn in his lungs, the ache in his belly. He wraps his shaking arms around himself in an attempt to hold himself together, laughing so hard he feels like his muscles might actually rip themselves off his bones. Every time he tries to calm down, he pictures Will, in his dorky flip-flops, egg in his hair, half a muffin crushed on his cheek, bright red, sprawled on the ground, food everywhere. If he could think of literally anything else, he’d be worried about his heart straight-up failing. 

“I hate you. Actually.”

“I’m – oh my God,” he wheezes. He manages, finally, to get an actual breath in, desperately trying to think of literally anything else to calm down. Fucking – bumper to bumper traffic. Bedbugs. His father’s frowning face. That always works. “Holy shit, Will.”

“I should’ve just woken your ungrateful ass up.”

“Probably.” He flicks a grape at him, smiling. Will catches it in his mouth, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Whatever.”

Nico finishes the rest of his breakfast in relative peace, managing to turn away if his mouth threatens to betray the tentative truce they’ve negotiated. He even eats one entire peach when Will starts pelting him with tiny hotel soap bottles and listing side effects of cholesterol-induced heart disease.

The second he finishes the last bite, Will orders him to clear off the desk. Nico mutters about bossiness and how Will is most definitely not in charge of him, doing as he asks. When he comes back – took him a hot second to shove the paper plates into a small enough ball to fit in the garbage can – Will has dragged the desk over to the bed, sitting criss-cross next to it, examining one of the many papers he has covering it.

“So,” he says, gesturing next to him. Nico dutifully sits, peering at the various maps and markings. “We gotta plan part two.”

“Didn’t we already do this?” Nico asks. “Back at Dunkin’s?”

“Not this far. I wanted to Preserve the Spontaneous Road Trip Spirit.” Nico can hear the capitalization.

“So, planning, then.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Nico smiles. “Brief me, captain.”

Will jumps right in, pointing and gesturing and every once and a while catching Nico’s eye to ask, right? Sound good?

Nico just watches him. 

The midday sun shines directly in his face, catching and reflecting on his pale eyelashes, making his eyes go squinty. His excitement is obvious, in his chattering, his waving hands, his bouncing curls; every part of him moving. Even his stupid cargo shorts look endearing, every other pocket bulging, filled absentmindedly with slips of paper or pens or bandaids or granola bars. Nico watches him and feels he might burst.

“You’re not listening,” Will accuses.

Nico jumps back into focus. “Yes I am.”

“What’d I just say?”

“‘You’re not listening’.”

WIll cracks a smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Run over that again,” Nico answers, and grins devilishly when Will does. Not funny his ass.

He listens, though, through Will’s second explanation. It’s not too hard – Will’s always been organised. The wide penciled circle around their location in Atlanta, outlining the area they can drive before their next fuel stop, is pretty wide. But the options are limited, in Nico’s opinion – while he’s sure there is indeed something to do in South Carolina, there’s nothing to do for him, specifically. He’s cool with skipping it.

“There is one place we can go,” Will says. His voice has gone oddly quiet, and after at minute he glances over at Nico, like he’s waiting for his permission.

“Your road trip, dude,” he murmurs, nudging their shoulders together. “I’ll even go to South Carolina if you want to, but no promises that I won’t complain about it.”

That, thankfully, draws a huff out of him, some of the tenseness fading from his frame. 

“South Carolina is beautiful, you know.”

“Says the boy who is currently visiting his third state ever.”

“...Touché.” He taps his pencil on the map, pink eraser thunking somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. “I was thinking – we could try Nashville? Music Row, or Broadway?”

Nico groans. “Oh, of course you wanna go hang out with all the goddamn hillbillies, you fuckin’ country boy –”

“It’s good music!”

Nico groans louder. Secretly, though, he watches his friend out of the corner of his eye, watches as his shoulders slump, relieved, and he knows he’ll spend as long as he needs in lasso-slingin’ Tennessee, following Will in and out of – barns and ranches and cowboy boot shops, probably. Are saloons still a thing?

He has a feeling that there is more to Will’s hesitance than a fear about being judged for his Marty Robbins obsession. If Tennessee is where he’s gonna get answers – well. He’ll brave the goddamn sea of cowboy hats.

A knock at the door startles them both. A voice calls hesitantly through the door: “Mr. di Angelo?”

“Wrong door, probably,” Will whispers after a moment. He looks to Nico. “Right?”

There’s another knock. “Mr. di Angelo?” 

“Yeah.” Nico rolls of the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt. “Another room with a Mr. di Angelo.”

He creeps towards the door, keeping low as if whoever’s outside can see him. After a moment, the bed creaks, and Will’s quiet footsteps pad behind him. 

“You think it’s room service?” Will whispers, plastered to the opposite side of the door. Even ducking, his hair brushes the edge of the peephole. 

Nico shoves his head down, pinching him when he squawks. “Be quiet, tall person, I need to see.”

“Get a stepstool then, jerk! Stop using my neck as a lever!”

“What part of be quiet are you missing! God!”

“Mr. di Angelo, please open the door.”

The voice on the other side of the door sounds amused. Face flaming, Nico shoves Will somewhere behind him, still bitching, and swings open the door. 

“Good afternoon,” says the man in the hallway. He’s dressed very smartly in a tailored black suit, nametag reading Eric. “Are you Mr. di Angelo?”

Nico clears his throat, trying to stand taller. “That’s me.”

“Good. I’m with Hotel Administration. We received a fax for you this morning?” He hands Nico a manilla folder. “First page says confidential, so we put it in the envelope. We tried to call this morning but didn’t get any response.”

Vaguely, Nico remembers a ringing phone. He also remembers yanking the plug out of the wall in sleep-deprived rage.

Oops.

Ignoring Will’s snickering, Nico thanks the man, closing the door and sitting on the nearest bed. Will scooches over to make room for him, tossing and catching a pillow. Nico leans back against the headboard, crossing his leg over Will’s.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“Checking now.”

The envelope is the cheap kind you get in a box of fifty; speckled brown, thin, machine-cut. It’s not sealed and so Nico flips it open easily, sliding out a small stack of papers. The first is a huge CONFIDENTIAL, printed diagonally across otherwise blank paper. The second is a bank statement. 

Nico shoots upright.

“What? Nico, what’s –”

“Mr. di Angelo, we regret to lose your business,’” Nico recites in a shaking voice, “‘but appreciate your time with us and wish you all the best with your future banking.’”

Frantically, he scans the document again. Successful cancellation. Expedited closure date. Transferred affairs to –

– parent account. 

“–co? Nico? Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

The air pushes out of Nico’s lungs like a crushed balloon. “Fuck.”

“Nico.” Warm hands press on his bloodless cheeks, fingers sliding in his hair. “Nico, look at me.”

He gasps. Will squeezes gently, eyes dark and stern and kind, thumbs callus-rough and dragging across his cheekbones.

“Good. Again. There you go, you got it.” 

Nico grabs his wrists when he tries to pull away. Will takes the hint, sliding his hands under Nico’s free one and knocking their shoulders together.

“What’s wrong, Nico?” 

Instead of answering, Nico sets the papers on the bed between them. Will squints, and for a second Nico prays that he’s wrong, that he’s mixed up the words. That it doesn’t say what it knows it does.

Then Will inhales, quick and sharp, and the hope is dashed.

“Your card…”

“Next page,” Nico says softly.

Niccolò,

The papers rustle as Will flips them, and this one he takes much longer to read. 

Vorrei sapere che ho fermato un caso di frode alla radice.

After a minute, he holds it out, shaking his head.

Un criminale ha rubato la tua carta di credito, e l’ha usata per comprare una stanza d’albergo in Georgia. Qualche spacciatore, non ci sono dubbi.

“It’s a little formal, I can’t –”

Ho disattivato la carta, naturalmente. Ti darò quella nuova appena ti vedrò.

Nico takes the scanned letter. Vaguely, he registers Will’s hands brushing up his arms as they move two wrap around his face again, this time forcing his jaw to unclench.

“Power play,” Nico snarls. His clenched fingers wrinkle the pulpy paper.  “He knows exactly where I am. If he wanted to drag me home, he could drag me by the fucking –”

“But instead he’s forcing you to call him,” Will says softly. “Oh, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

The hands drop from his face again. It knocks the cloudiness right out of Nico’s head, and he snaps up, frowning at Will’s crooking fingers, the bitten lips. He won’t meet Nico’s eyes.

“Why are you sorry my father’s being a haughty jackass who suddenly cares what I do with my time?”

“And his money.” Will picks up the bank statement, reading over it again, and again, like it might change. Like Nico’s credit card will magically become un-cancelled, like they will suddenly become un-stranded. “This whole stupid thing is my fault. I never should have dragged you into it, Neeks, I’m so –”

“If you apologise again I’m going to push you off the bed.”

“– sorry.” 

“Will.” Nico snatches back the statement, shaking his head. He waits until blue eyes meet his then smiles, as reassuringly as he can with such a pit in his stomach. “My father is –” He sighs. “It’s not about the money. You know he doesn’t care about the money.”

Will shrugs. It’s true – Nico has made dumber purchases. When he was twelve, he bought a trampoline, just to see if his father would say anything. Fifteen, marble statue. Sixteen, a car.

Then he stopped trying.

“How far can we go, on the gas we have? How many miles?”

Will shrugs. “Three and a half hours? Four, if we push it?”

“And on a full tank of gas?”

“Almost six.”

“And then we’re stuck.”

“And then we’re stuck, yeah. Unless you got Greyhound money hidden somewhere.”

Nico sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what he wants, Will. He doesn’t care about the – about the stupid money. He wants me. He wants me to ask, rather, to pick up a phone and beg him to come get us ‘cause we have no other options. He wants me to admit I need his help.”

The first time he ran away, he’d had to avoid every cop car. He knew he was being looked for, he saw his own face plastered on news screens. It had only been a matter of time. The second attempt was – easier. Much easier. He’d hardly even had to hide his face. By the third time, he’d waited a week, waited almost a month, before he was cold and hungry and walked to the nearest social services building himself. The car ride home, the humiliation so potent he could taste the bitterness of it, had made the cold, rainy nights with nothing but the same ratty hoodie he’d worn when he left worth it. He swore he’d never subject himself to that again. 

And yet here he is. 

Out of options. 

“You know what? No.” In a swift, unstoppable movement, Will snatches the stack of papers, ripping them into four pieces faster than Nico can reach an arm out to stop him. “We’re not doing this.”

“Will – what –”

He throws himself off the bed, stomping over to his backpack. A folded pair of socks goes flying over his shoulder, a book hits the ground with a heavy thunk. His muttering grows louder, cursing interspersed between every word.

“What are you –”

“We are not dealing with this right now.” With a frustrated finally, Will yanks a bag of something out of his backpack, stomping back towards the bed. He throws a Ziploc bag onto the duvet, and it bounces once, twice, three times before splitting open and spilling quarters everywhere.

“What the hell is –”

“You already payed for the room, right?”

Nico snaps his jaw shut. “Yes.”

“And it’s Saturday.”

“I – it is, yeah.”

“Not a business day.”

“No.”

“Well.” Will nods. “Bank’s closed. Hotel can’t process anything, and they have no reason to suspect your card, which worked just fine last night, is gonna bounce. We’ve got a day of breathing room, at least, and I don’t want to think about it.”

He holds up a hand when Nico starts to argue, grim set to his mouth giving way to something a little sharper, a little more dangerous. 

“We might not be old enough to gamble, but when you’re in Atlanta, you do as the Atlantians do.” He meets Nico’s eye, grinning. “You still any good Street Fighters?”

———

next chapter

#remind me to proofread tomorrow #or rather later today lol. anyways enjoy some nico lore im sorry hades #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #slowburn #slowburn solangelo #nico di angelo angst #will solace angst #daddy issues #lol #road trip #road trip au #my writing #fic #longpost #pining nico di angelo #pining will solace #mutual pining #NONE OF YALL TOLD ME I FCKN SWITCHED VERB TENSES 😭😭😭😭

[nori-the-cat]

RIIZE Park Wonbin as Your Boyfriend

Cards: the hermit, three of wands, three of pentacles, seven of pentacles, king of wands, temperance, knight of cups, queen of pentacles, three of cups, the lovers, nine of pentacles, seven of cups, five of swords and ten of wands.

Remember, this is just my interpretation based on the tarot spread. All of this is alleged and for entertainment purposes only. Take it with a grain of salt. This was a requested reading.

With his love for fashion, dream of becoming a sushi chef, and secret desire to work at a clothing store, Park Wonbin is a man of many talents. It's no wonder so many fans are curious about what it would be like to date him.

Dating Wonbin would be like dating a low-key adventurer with a side of introvert. He probably loves his chill time and might not be all over you right away. Don't worry though, this quiet dude could secretly be a thrill-seeker.

Wonbin seems super chill when it comes to relationships. No drama, just teamwork. He'd be down to chat late-night about anything and don't be surprised if he shows you he cares with cute little surprises. Plus, this dude might be a natural leader, the kind who plans exciting date nights and weekend getaways. Basically, dating Wonbin would feel like having your bestie by your side, always down to conquer whatever comes your way, even if it's just trying that new ramen place you've been eyeing. Super low-key vibes with a side of excitement? Sounds like a win-win.

Imagine this: It's Friday night and you're curled up on the couch with Wonbin, takeout containers scattered on the coffee table. You're both wrapped in cosy blankets, chatting about a movie or documentary you just watched. He laughs softly at a particularly funny scene, his smile making your heart flutter. You steal a glance at him, wondering what adventure he might be planning next.

Hold on, gotta unpack Wonbin's boyfriend vibes! This dude seems all about finding that ~balance~ in a relationship. You know, like open communication, patience, and understanding each other's feelings? Super chill. Plus, he's probably a romantic sweetheart – think cute gestures and remembering important dates.

Dating Wonbin would be like building a dream team. He'd be your rock, your hype man, always there to support you. He'd probably love going on adventures with you, trying new things, and just soaking up quality time together. Basically, Wonbin's looking for the real deal, someone to connect with on a deeper level. Deep feels and all that! Sounds pretty promising, if you're into that kind of thing.

Imagine this: You were having a terrible day. The presentation at work went south, and your favourite coffee shop was out of your usual latte. Dragging your feet through the door, you braced yourself for Wonbin's usual warm greeting.

Instead, he just smiled softly, his eyes holding a warmth that melted away your stress. He handed you a steaming mug decorated with a tiny heart drawn in chocolate syrup. "Rough day?" he asked, his voice gentle. You took a sip, the rich coffee and sweet chocolate instantly lifting your spirits. "The worst," you mumbled, a small smile playing on your lips.

Wonbin pulled you into a hug, his arms strong and comforting. "Let's forget work for a bit," he whispered. "How about we order takeout and build a blanket fort for a movie marathon?"

Another plus point about Wonbin is his provider mindset. Wonbin sounds like a total #adulting boyfriend! Financial security? Check. Taking care of his commitments? Double check. In a relationship, this dude's got his life together and wants to make sure you're comfy too. Imagine a partner who always pays their share (and maybe even surprises you with takeout sometimes). Plus, Wonbin's all about clear communication – no mind games here! He'll tell you straight up what's on his mind, which can be super refreshing in a relationship. Basically, dating Wonbin would feel mature and drama-free. You know exactly where you stand, and he's always got your back (and your feelings!). Sounds pretty ~adulting goals~, right?

Okay, so Wonbin isn't perfect (but who is, tbh?). Here's the tea on his chill vibes with a side of maybe-not-so-chill. Wonbin might take a while to decide, you know, like what movie to watch or where to eat. And don't be surprised if he has some idealistic expectations about love – gotta manage those butterflies! Commitment might take a while too, so patience is key.

Another thing about Wonbin is that he might be a bit of a control freak sometimes, wanting to do everything himself. Relationships won't always be sunshine and rainbows with Wonbin, but that's kind of normal. He might take on too much sometimes and forget to ask for help (like, hello teamwork!), and there might be some bumps along the road together. The good thing is, Wonbin's probably down to communicate openly. So, even if you argue sometimes, you can work through it together.

Basically, dating Wonbin would be real, with ups and downs, but hopefully more ups! It all depends on whether you're cool with a chill but indecisive boyfriend who's a sweetheart but needs a reminder to delegate.

These songs remind me of him.

Note: This is a requested reading from @theridderhoe

#kpop #kpop tarot #riize tarot #riize #park wonbin #riize wonbin #wonbin riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize headcanons #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #wonbin x reader #wonbin imagines #wonbin scenarios #wonbin headcanons #wonbin drabbles #riize park wonbin #park wonbin x reader

[chelseachilly]

running home to your sweet nothings

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: ben has been so busy with training lately that you've hardly seen each other, so you have a lazy friday night in 💗 warnings: none :) word count: 2.3k

author's note: this is pure fluff inspired by taylor swift's sweet nothing, enjoy! (also how adorable does he look in that gif??? he's so soft and cuddly it's insane)

-

Chelsea’s season is off to a strong start, which comes as a huge relief after the nightmare of last year. 

To some supporters, this may seem like the result of new players or new management, and while both are certainly playing a part, much of the club’s recent turnaround is due to how hard the boys are working.

You know this firsthand, having witnessed your boyfriend more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him over the past few weeks. They’ve been putting in ten to twelve hour days at Cobham, completing rigorous fitness tests and training drills, without much of a break since the first day of preseason.

Although he’s been back from America for a couple weeks now, you feel like you’ve hardly seen Ben, as he leaves before you’re up in the morning and is often already asleep by the time you finish work. You do adore the sight of him peacefully sleeping in your bed when you finally make it home, but despite living in the same house and being in the same city, you’ve been missing him lately. 

You’re ecstatic when one Friday afternoon your boss encourages you to take the rest of the day off since you’ve been working late all week. For once, you’ll actually get home before Ben and have the chance to spend some time with him before he has to go to bed.

You text him to let him know you’re on your way home and you’ve got dinner sorted, to which he responds with many enthusiastic emojis.

You pick up a few things at Sainsbury’s on your way home and still get there with enough time to spare before Ben is due home from training to tidy up a bit. You have a regular cleaning service that comes on Mondays, but with both of you so busy lately, you’ve hardly had time to keep up with things like laundry and dishes. 

You change into shorts and one of Ben’s comfiest hoodies and get to work.

Once the house is clean to your satisfaction and you’ve given Oscar his dinner, you light a couple candles and start making your own. You’ve also been too busy to cook lately, meaning a lot of takeaway, but there’s something special about a home-cooked meal. You make a simple pasta dish that’s one of yours and Ben’s favourites, which you finish just in time for the sound of the key turning in the door and Oscar running to greet his dad.

You hear Ben murmuring something to the dog before he calls out to you.

“Babe, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” you call back, a smile on your face as you hear him getting closer.

You turn your head slightly to see Ben as soon as he pads into the kitchen and drops his training bag on the floor. He looks utterly adorable in his soft navy blue tracksuit with his hair a bit messy and fluffy after showering at Cobham. 

His face lights up at the sight of you and he immediately walks over to the stove where you’re finishing up, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs, his warmth enveloping you and his low voice sending a shiver up your spine. “How was your day?”

“Good, but much better now,” you smile, turning in his arms to face him. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and lean into him as his hands find your waist and pull you flush against him. Your lips meet in a soft kiss that feels like coming home in more ways than one. Nothing can compare to this feeling - curling up next to an already-sleeping Ben and succumbing to your own exhaustion within seconds just isn’t the same. You need this time together. 

“Mm, how was training?” you murmur, brushing your nose against his and pressing another kiss to his lips. “You feeling good about the game tomorrow?”

“It was alright. Definitely intense, but we’re starting to see the results, so it’s worth it.” Ben hugs you a bit tighter and rests his cheek atop your head. “Tomorrow should be fine. We’re obviously the stronger team, so I’m not too worried, but still going to give it my all of course.”

“You’re going to be amazing,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair and adoring the way he shivers at your touch. “I can’t wait to watch.”

Ben kisses your head and continues to hold you for another minute or two, both of you recalibrating after missing this closeness all week. 

“Are you hungry?” you mumble against his shoulder before pulling away to give the pasta one final stir.

“Starving,” Ben confirms, keeping an arm around your waist as he glances over at the pasta you made, followed by the rest of the kitchen. “I can’t believe you’re not only home before me, but you also cooked and cleaned. You’re amazing.”

“I just wanted us to have a relaxing night together once you got home,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’ve been missing our time together lately.” 

“So have I,” Ben sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate going to bed before you’re home. It’s just this new training regimen has me so tired that it’s hard-“

“Oh, Ben, you don’t have to explain,” you cut him off gently, rubbing his bicep. “I know how tired you’ve been. Let’s just enjoy tonight, yeah?”

Ben nods and quickly kisses your forehead before helping you divide the pasta into two bowls and carrying them out to the living room. You grab some water for both of you and follow him, sitting close enough on the couch that your legs are touching and putting on the latest Love Island, a guilty pleasure for both of you.

It feels insanely good to just have a simple, quiet night in with Ben after being like ships in the night since he returned from preseason. As soon as you’ve finished eating, Ben settles back into the cushions and opens his arms so you can cuddle up with him. You don’t hesitate, climbing into his embrace and resting your head on his chest. 

It’s perfect and serene for a little while, the two of you chatting about your days and exchanging lazy kisses while the TV plays on low volume. He tells you about how promising some of the new young players are and you talk about the big presentation you’re working on. 

You think you could stay like this all night, but Ben starts shifting uncomfortably and trying to discreetly rub the back of his neck when you’re looking at the television, and you know you have to do something about it.

“You sore from training, baby?” you murmur into his chest, bringing your joined hands to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“A bit, yeah,” Ben mutters, trying to find a position that alleviates his discomfort. “May have overdone it slightly in the gym today.”

You shift away from him slightly to gently rub his upper back and look at him with concern.

“Did you get a massage before you left?”

“No, I was too excited when you texted me that you were home,” Ben admits sheepishly. “I was out of there the minute the gaffer let us go.”

“Oh, babe,” you sigh, moving your hand up to his cheek. Although part of you really wants to chastise him for not prioritizing his well-being, especially with a game tomorrow, the thought of him rushing home to you is just too sweet. “Why don’t you go have a bath while I do the dishes? It will help.”

Ben shakes his head, tightening his arm around your waist and pulling you into him once more.

“Don’t wanna leave you,” he mumbles against your shoulder, making you smile and roll your eyes with affection. 

It stands to reason that he’s being a bit clingy when he hasn’t held you properly - aside from while sleeping - in nearly a week. 

Quality time is both of your love language, along with physical touch, and you’ve been sorely lacking both lately. 

“Alright, then why don’t we both quickly clean up and I’ll join you in the bath?” you counter-offer, to which Ben eagerly nods. 

You hastily clean up the small mess you created in the kitchen earlier before heading upstairs and running the bath. 

Your ensuite bathroom - and the bathtub specifically - is one of your favourite parts of the house you and Ben have shared for over a year now, a little sanctuary from your busy lives.

The marble tub is massive and fits both of you comfortably, something you often take advantage of. 

As hot water fills the tub, you pour some Epsom salts into the bath to help with Ben’s sore muscles and dim the lights to create a more relaxing atmosphere. 

Ben walks in from the bedroom already fully naked, making you giggle slightly as you turn off the faucet. 

“Have we reached the point in our relationship where you laugh at seeing me naked?” Ben inquires, raising an eyebrow as he walks up to you and squeezes your waist gently.

“Don’t worry, you muppet, I still find you very attractive,” you assure him with a slight eye roll, running your hands up his bare sides and appreciating the feeling of his toned abs. “I’m glad this training regimen the gaffer has you on seems to be working, cause it’s also working for me.”

Ben chuckles and leans down to peck your lips before stepping into the bath. As soon as he’s relaxed into the water, he motions for you to join him and watches you with appreciative eyes as you undress.

“C’mere,” Ben says once you’re unclothed, gesturing for you to get in the bath opposite him, but you have other plans.

“Scooch up, babe,” you tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently urging him to move forward so you can get in behind him.

He seems a bit confused for a moment, as this is a reversal of your usual positions when you take a bath together, but he relaxes quickly as you sink into the warm water, legs on either side of him, and begin gently massaging his back and shoulders.

“Baby,” Ben moans after a minute or two, as you’re working out a particularly tense spot in his upper back. “That feels so good. Thank you.”

“Of course, love,” you smile, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I know how hard you’ve been working lately, and I’m so proud of you, but it’s important to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” Ben sighs, leaning back against your chest when you pause your ministrations on his back. “I just want to be playing at my best. It’s been a rough couple years and I want to prove myself, you know?”

You begin to stroke his hair with one hand while your other wraps around his chest, holding him to you. 

You wish he wouldn’t be so hard on himself, though you know it’s in his nature to want to improve and make everyone proud. If only he knew how proud he makes you every day, how much you admire his strength and determination even at the lowest points of his career. 

“You’ve proven yourself many times over, Ben,” you tell him softly. “You helped your team win the UCL, you’ve consistently been one of the best defenders in the league. You’ve achieved so much already, one bad season and a couple bad injuries can’t change that.”

Ben nods, tilting his head back to press a quick kiss to your cheek. You can still see the worry in his deep green eyes, though, unrelenting despite your best efforts. 

“Babe,” you say, gently cupping his jaw so he continues to look up at you. “There’s nothing wrong with working hard, and I know it’s different with the new manager, just don’t overdo it. Okay?”

You know that injuries are more likely when athletes are overtired, and Ben knows that too. It’s important that he listen to his body and rest when needed, even if that means only doing an hour in the gym rather than two or three after they’re released from training. And not skipping massage therapy to see you, as happy as you were when he came home. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ben says with a small smile. “As always. Thanks for looking after me.”

“Of course,” you smile back at him, pressing your lips to his languidly.

After staying in the bath until the water starts to cool and you’re getting a bit pruney, you both change into comfy pyjamas - well, you’re back in just Ben’s sweatshirt, which is hard to beat in terms of comfort - and climb into bed. 

Ben, who is adorably sleepy at this point after the bath and your massage have done wonders for his muscle pain, seems to be clinging to consciousness, sitting up next to you and suggesting you put on a show before bed. 

“Ben, you’re exhausted, let’s go to sleep,” you say, reaching to turn off the light. 

He grabs your hand, shaking his head. 

“It’s barely nine, I wanna spend more time with you.”

“You need to rest up for tomorrow,” you remind him. “And after you win, you can have me all night.”

“Promise?” Ben murmurs with a bit of a smirk, and you roll your eyes and nod, shoving his chest playfully.

“Yes, I promise, but we have to sleep now.”

This time Ben allows you to turn the light off, and you quickly make sure your alarm is set for tomorrow and your phone is on the charger before settling in and letting Ben pull you into his arms.

You snuggle close to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and throwing an arm and a leg over him. His warmth and even breaths are lulling you to sleep already. 

“Y/N?” Ben whispers just when you think he’s fallen asleep. 

“Mhm?”

“I love you,” he breathes into your hair before pressing a kiss there. “So much.”

You grin sleepily as you cuddle even closer to him, feeling his stubble against your forehead. 

“I love you too, Ben. Sweet dreams.”

-

thanks for reading! it would make my day if you left a comment/let me know if you enjoyed it 🥰

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #chelsea fc imagine #ben chilwell x y/n #my fics

[bradshawed]

OKAY OKAY YOU DONT HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS AT ALL BUT YOU SHOULD WRITE LIKE A STEVE ONESHOT THING WHERE HES DATING (Y/N OR OC IM NOT PICKY) BUT HES STILL PINING FOR NANCY AND LIKE STILL IN LOVE WITH HER SO HIS S/O BREAKS UP WITH HIM BC SHES TIRED OF BEING LIKE "A BACKUP OPTION" AND ALWAYS SECOND CHOICE TO NANCY AND ITS LIKE SUPER ANGSTY AND BASICALLY IT TAKES BEING WITHOUT THEM FOR STEVE TO REALIZE HOW MUCH HE LOVED THEM AND THEN THERES LIKE A LOVE CONFESSION. (THAT WAS A CRAZY RUN-ON SENTENCE OMG)

YOU CAN IGNORE THIS IF YOU DONT LIKE THE IDEA THO <3

Second Best — Steve Harrington

summary — nancy wheeler, the one who got away. she’d always be his first love and you’d always be second best so what was the point of pretending he could love you even just a little?

warning/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, angst, steve being dumb, swearing, bits of stancy, arguing, fluff, the gang scheming

note — thank you so much for requesting! I absolutely adore this idea and loved writing it so so much, I hope I did it justice even if I did slightly go off the prompt. you’re an incredible writer, one of my favourites on wp, and I can’t wait to read your works on here too. I love you tons! thank you again and I hope you like it <3 also, credits to soph for steve’s middle name, ilysm!

word count — 2.5k words

This was the third time in the space of a couple of minutes that you’ve caught Steve staring at Nancy from where he sat on the couch, to say you were sick of it would be an understatement.

It had been movie night with the whole group which had truthfully been long overdue and very much needed but surprisingly difficult to plan with everyone’s hectic schedules. But here you all were, finally relaxing for the first time in months in Steve’s spacious living room among a bundle of cushions, in what should’ve resembled a fort built by the boys. The second movie of the night was playing on the projector that Robin and Max had set up and an abundance of snacks and sugary drinks had been brought beforehand to account for everyone’s tastebuds. With the way things were going, however, it seemed like staying over at Steve’s after the night was over was simply out of the question.

Dustin sent you a sad look from his position on the floor smothered by multiple duvets. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the situation. The room seemed to cool another ten degrees when Steve unwrapped his arm from around your shoulders mid-scene, shifting away from you slightly. You were both oceans apart and yet he didn’t even seem to notice the space between you. And this wasn’t the first time it had happened either.

The credits rolled in and Nancy offered to grab more snacks while the kids decided on the next movie. Steve practically jumped at the chance to follow her to the kitchen, or maybe you were just overreacting like usual. It didn’t matter anyway, the fact was that he was with her, not you and the way he looked at her told you everything that had been left unsaid.

You quietly got up from your place on the couch, surrounded by colourful blankets and softly padded around the room, picking up your car keys from where you’d left them and moving to the hallway to put on your coat and shoes. El moved to stop you but Eddie gently placed a hand on her shoulder, letting you go with a sad nod. You couldn’t stay, they knew that, but still, some part of you wishes they would’ve asked. You might have not been there from the beginning but they loved you all the same, if not even more and vice versa. You were the missing piece in their family and for them, you’d do anything even if it meant watching Steve pin for his ex girlfriend.

You’d almost made it to your car before Steve appeared at the door, the expression on his face a mix of everything and seemingly nothing you were looking for all at once. “Where are you going, the movie’s about to start. Mike’s picked out some cheesy horror movie which I know you love to watch and Nance has opened up the last pack of those giggles cookies you love with the weird faces on them-” You hated horror movies, regardless of if they were cheesy and predictable or not, and those giggle cookies with fudge and vanilla cream in them- god you hate them too. You’d eat fudge by itself but for some reason when it’s added to something else it just doesn’t taste right to you.

“Steve.. I’m not feeling great, I’m gonna head home a little early.” You knew he didn’t believe you. You never could lie to him, and his judging eyes told you enough. Not to mention you called him Steve, you never call him Steve, but he didn’t notice.

“You seemed fine a while ago to me. What’s wrong, maybe you can lay down in the spare room?” There he goes treating you like you’re one of the kids and not his girlfriend but that’s not what irks you the most, it’s the fact that mentions the spare room. Not his room, the spare. “Nance can give you one of her green teas, they’re magical I swear, you’ll feel better in an instant. Actually, let me ask her now.” He walked away towards the door, completely disregarding anything you’d said, acting for a moment that he was even paying attention to you tonight bringing up Nancy again and suddenly, you’re done.

“No!” Steve pauses mid stride, hand on the half opened door, slowly turning around shocked by the volume and the panic in your voice, “I’m done Steve, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Wh-what?!”

“You’re in love with Nancy.”

“I’m what-?!”

“Ha, see you can’t even deny it.”

“Because there’s nothing to deny!” His voice raises even further. He’s never raised his voice at you. He knows how much you hate it and it reminds him of his father so he never did; guess there was a first time for everything.

“Don’t. You don’t love me, you never have. You don’t even know my favourite movie genre or my favourite snack-”

“Yes I do, I just told you!”

“Those are Nancy’s fucking favourites! See you’re pinning after her with those love sick eyes of yours and you don’t even know it.”

“What so not knowing your favourite movie genre or snack is a crime now?! So I’m expected to know everything about my girlfriend?” This elicits a rather loud scoff from you causing Steve to clench his fists in frustration and anger. “We’ve been dating for almost a year so yes, I do expect you to at least know those two things.”

Steve starts again but you cut him off fearing that if you don’t get it out now then you’ll go back to apologising to him the next day and burying it even deeper within you. “It’s her, it’s always been her. I don’t know why I even bothered but I thought you were over her, I truly did. But every time she walks into a room your eyes brighten and they don’t leave her for a single fucking second. You bring her up into every single conversation as if her ghost wasn’t already haunting our relationship and I feel like I’m always being compared to her in everything that I do. Stevie I love you, I truly do but I’m sick of feeling like I’m second place.”

Silence. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever. You wished he’d say something, anything, do something to prove you wrong, to tell you it was all in your head or that he’d change, that things would get better. A flash of emotion appears on his face before he puts back on his ‘King Steve’ mask. He never used that with you.

“Okay.” That’s all he says before turning back towards the door and leaving you standing out there in the cold.

That was months ago and here you were with the gang calling you from a pay phone on a Sunday. It seemed like your plans of crying your eyes out to another sappy romance movie that reminded you of your relationship with Steve had been ruined. “Heyyy Y/Nnnn”, came a sheepish voice from the other end of the phone call.

You knew they could feel your eye roll from there, “What do you guys need?”

“What, can’t we call our favourite adult and tell her that we miss her?!”

“Ignoring the fact that this is the first time you’ve called me in months, no Dustin, you can’t call without wanting something first. And favourite?! Ha, nice one. What do you want?”

“Can you please pick us up from the skatepark?” At least he had the common sense to give the phone to Max when the gang wanted something, they all knew she was your soft spot. Then for the millionth time that day, like every other day, your mind went straight to Steve. Where was he? Shouldn’t he be picking up the kids? Why would he just leave them there? They could’ve called anyone else, so why you? And then as if she knew the thoughts running through your head she added, “we didn’t want to bother Eddie and Steve was meant to pick us at two but we got bored and felt bad for asking him to pick us up earlier when he was already in a bad mood this morning and-”

“It’s okay sweetheart, hang tight and I’ll be there in ten. Don’t go anywhere and stick together okay?”

“Yes mum.” And Dustin was back.

He hung up the phone and you went to get changed as quick as you could, sliding along the wooden floor in your socks. If Steve was here now, he’d be laughing his beautiful laugh, teasing you before acting out the scene from ‘Risky Business’, maybe even twirling you around the living room. Shaking your head to prevent more tears from falling, you grabbed your coat and car keys and made your way out the door.

There was a catch. Of course there had to be a catch. Why didn’t you think about this before?!You’d successfully picked up the kids and they’d all piled into your car with their gear when Dustin remembered he’d left something important at Steve’s and needed to pick it up. So here you were driving to your ex boyfriend’s house cursing wildly in your head. It would be fine. You were only going to stay in the car. You wouldn’t even have to see him… right?

Wrong. Fate, aka the kids, had different plans.

Pulling into the driveway, the first thing you noticed was the fairy lights stung around the house. It was still light out, Christmas and New Years were over, Valentine’s Day was even further away, so why were there fairy lights? Why were there sunflowers lining the driveway? Had you stumbled upon Steve’s love confession to Nancy. Oh god. You hoped not.

Here you were, standing on Steve’s porch, knocking on his door instead of Dustin and you hadn’t the slightest clue of how you got there except you figured you’d been roped into some wild scheme that wasn’t going to end well. Fuck me.

Steve Willow Harrington opened the door in all his beautiful glory holding a bouquet of sunflowers, a pack of care bear waffles and ‘The Breakfast Club’. Who the hell allowed him to look so good?!

“Hi.”

No, this was absolutely not happening. He would not turn your heart into mush with one syllable. You started to turn around to leave but his reflexes were faster and he grabbed your hand, the skin heating up under his touch and your heart kickstarted into motion at the electricity that danced along his fingers onto yours. “Please. Don’t go.”

You froze in place. Head and heart conflicted but once you saw the expression on the kids’ faces you understood. He gently pulled you towards him, albeit with a little caution, turning your body but still you refused to look at him. “These are for you.” You accepted them, focusing on the sunshine petals instead of his face until your felt his fingers gently gripping your chin, tilting your head upwards so you were looking into his eyes. Steve’s eyes shone with the telltale sign of tears and regret and something else that you’d only seen when he looked at her. It was love. No. It couldn’t be. You took a step back needing the distance to gather your thoughts. He didn’t get to do this to you, he didn’t get to hurt you all over again.

“I’m sorry. I-” you shook your head, your own tears glistening your eyes making them shine in the fairy lights. “I had a whole speech planned out funnily enough but I see you again for one second and you’ve got speechless. God I- I drove over to your house in the middle of the night to apologise after that day and I chickened out every single time until they all knocked some sense into me.” He nodded behind you towards where the kids were anxiously watching the scene unfolding before them.

“I thought I heard your car but every time I’d look out the window there was no one there so I stopped looking.”

Steve sighed sadly, “You deserve better- you deserved better. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I shouldn’t have taken you for granted. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were second place, not to Nancy and not to anyone. I should have showed you I cared, that you mattered, that I did know you loved binge watching those sappy romance movies and pointing out bits that reminded you of us and that your favourite snack were those ridiculously overpriced care bear waffles with the rainbow specks of berries because you’d had them since you were a child and refused to give them up. But I didn’t do any of the things I should have. I fucked up and I don’t deserve you. And the worst thing is, I don’t even have a reason why I did them. I think some part of me was terrified of the uncertainty, of the unknown, of how it felt to have someone I was scared to lose. So I buried how I felt about you and turned to something familiar, to something that I could hold onto even if I didn’t actually care about them. It took losing you to realise just how wrong I was and how badly I’d treated you. And I know it doesn’t justify any of what I did to you but I want you to know that I’m sorry and if I could do it all over again, I would do it differently. I would fight for you instead of leaving you there and I would show you exactly how I feel about you.”

You were both crying now, “and how do you feel about me?” The air stilled in anticipation, your fingers twisting around the fabric of your sleeve in a nervous dance.

“I love you.”

That admission of love, and the fact that he said it so easily like it was a fact that everyone should know, knocked the air out of your lungs. You felt breathless after his speech.

“I won’t deny that you hurt me and maybe I do deserve better but I know you can give it to me just as I hope I can give it to you. It won’t be easy and it will take time and a lot of work to get to- to us but if you’re willing to put in the work…” Steve nodded his head enthusiastically, tears slipping down his cheeks for he’d feared the worst, “then I am too.” Then came his megawatt smile, eyes crinkling at the edges from pure happiness. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders delicately so as to not damage the flowers, while yours wrapped around his waist. The kids were dancing by your car, pumping their fists into the air but neither of you payed any attention to them.

“And for the record, I love you too Stevie.”

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