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luveline · 2 years

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𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫? | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve finds out that falling in love can be really, really easy. you find out what it’s like when somebody wants to take care of you [10.5k]

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, getting together, dustins next-door neighbour!reader, sick fic, hurt/comfort, reader is implied to weigh more than nancy, you’re upset one time and steve goes overboard, small s4 spoilers no major plot details, post s3 pre s4, feat. the lunch club, karaoke, rollerblading, sunbathing

𓆩❤︎𓆪

A vast green jungle, so damp the forest floor bathes your ankles in rainwater runoff. The air is thick with humidity and smells green. Earthy, the sweet scent of petrichor tickles your nose, and-

A shadow distends over the yellow pages of your paperback, dark, eating up the image of the amazon and replacing it with reality – a normal summer's day in Hawkins.

Steve Harrington stands in front of you, his body blocking the sun and its warm glow. The light throws a halo around his head and turns the ends of his brown hair golden.

"Watcha reading?" he asks in lieu of ‘hello’.

"Ever read Journey to the Center of the Earth?" you ask him, leaning towards him invitingly.

You love to mess with him like this, watch his cheeks slowly pink as you bend towards your knees with a demure smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I did. In middle school," he says, trying his best to play it cool, hands pushing deep into the pockets of his pants.

"Well, it's nothing like that."

The grin he gets when he realises you're messing with him is adorable. He chuckles warmly and pulls a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground and then up at you again with a bashful pinch to his thick eyebrows.

"You're looking for Dustin?" you ask. You haven't seen your young neighbour since this morning. "He ran off earlier with his huge radio thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Typical. I paid him fifteen dollars," he says, his frustration clear, "fifteen dollars, Y/N, to fix my Walkman like three weeks ago. Every time I come by he's out. Little shit probably hasn't even looked at it."

You like Steve. He's a great looking guy who's more than nice when he sees you even though you're always pushing his buttons, and his poorly hidden fondness for Dustin is something you find heart-squeezingly attractive. You don't think twice about your next move.

You stand up from your lounger and have to shield your eyes from the sun, tucking your book under your naked arm. "If you want… I have a cassette player I'm not using. I got a Walkman for my birthday." You don't give him an opportunity to say no as you start for the front door.

"Are you sure?" Steve asks. You hold the door open for him, standing at the threshold with a grin.

"Positive. It's collecting dust, at this point."

"I mean, sure, if that's cool. Just until Dustin gets his act together," he says, pushing past you. His hand brushes your hip.

"That's cool," you confirm, walking behind him through your open kitchen and living room. "It's on the left."

Steve pushes into your bedroom. The window's open, breezing around the smell of fresh linens and the hydrangeas in the planter on your sill, shifting the gauzy white curtains.

The suncatcher hanging from the window sprays rainbow kisses over your walls and posters, your laundry basket full of summer dresses and discarded night shirts. The carpet is freshly vacuumed and plush underfoot as you beeline for your desk. Steve hovers by the door before leaning his weight against your bookshelf, eyes taking it in curiously.

"Cyndi Lauper," Steve says, eyes on a big poster of said singer with her iconic orange hair and hat. You raise your eyebrows at him, pleased, and he shrugs. "She's famous."

"You like her?"

"Nah," he says. "But I'll listen to anything. Except Depeche Mode; sharing a player with Robin all summer has sailed that boat."

"Yeah?" you ask, kneeling down in front of your desk to dig through the cabinet underneath. You frown, up to your elbow in bric a brac and forgotten trinkets. "It's in here somewhere."

"Yeah. I mean, maybe not anything. I don't think I have the palate for some of those rock and roll bands. Dustin made me listen to Black Scabbard in the car last week and…"

"Black Sabbath," you correct lightly, pulling out of your cupboard with a relieved huff.

"Right," he says.

You look over your shoulder to find him perusing your bookshelf, his hand running lightly over the shiny glass paper weight you use as a book end. He teases the spine of a hardback book curiously but must feel your gaze, turning to you with a sheepish smile.

"Do you like to read?" you ask.

Steve wrings his hands held at his hip. "Sure, I don't mind it. Bigger fan of movies."

"Right, Family Video must get pretty distracting," you say, walking towards him on light footing to offer the dinged-up cassette player. "She's well loved but she works, I swear."

He takes it from you, fingers brushing the backs of yours. "Thank you."

You shift from one foot to the other — because oh my god there's a boy in my room — before smiling with teeth. You stop. "You're welcome. Want a drink?"

"Uh…"

"I've got pink lemonade."

"Oh, then definitely."

You lead him into the kitchen and install him at the kitchen table with two empty glasses. The carafe of lemonade is beautifully cold from the refrigerator with slices of lemon and strawberry bouncing around the top as you pour it. The condensation wets your fingers.

Steve looks handsome and maybe slightly silly behind your homely oak table, all clean cut and well dressed. You feel bare beside him in your tank top and flowy midi skirt, too much skin.

"Are you hungry? I make a mean BLT," you say, bringing your feet up onto the chair, knees digging into the table.

"I'm good, thanks," he says.

"Are you having a good time of it at FV? They denied my application, but that's 'cos Keith has a vendetta against me for wiping out his score on the Palace's Tempest."

"You're a Tempest girl?"

"Everybody plays Tempest," you say.

Steve gives you a look. "Nerds play Tempest."

"Fine, every nerd plays Tempest," you allow, rolling your eyes. "Lemme guess, you're a Centipede guy. No, worse! You play Pac-Man. I can tell."

His silence is enough to make you giggle in triumph, elated to have sussed him out so quickly.

"How did you know that?" he asks finally.

"You called Black Sabbath 'Black Scabbard'. You're not a nerd."

"I could be."

"But you're not."

You share a steady look over the table. His eyes are bright with mirth, a sleek brown like fresh brewed coffee. You love the shape of them, deepest with the round under eye blanketed in straight black lashes. A red polo stretches across his chest. You find your eyes drawn down the length of his arm to his hand where he's drawing circles around the rim of his glass. He takes it into his hand and you watch his wrist bend, his arm flex as he brings the cup to his lips and a drop of condensation drips onto the table mat.

"I don't look the type?" he asks after a rough swallow. He sounds almost incensed.

"No, of course you don't. King Steve," you croon.

He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back, looking you up and down showfully. "Neither do you."

He's all charming smiles as he raises his chin and shakes his head, lips stretched up in an open-mouthed smile.

"Tempest," he mutters in bemusement.

You burst into laughter, quick to defend yourself when there's a pounding knock at the door. You're still laughing as you stand, calling to Steve as you walk to the door, "Tempest isn't even that nerdy! It's the Dragon's Lair dorks you need to watch out for. Oh, hi baby. What's wrong?"

"You haven't seen Steve, have you? His cars outside," Dustin announces, standing under the porch with his wild curls stuffed under a hat, his pulley cart ditched halfway between your yard and his.

"He's in the kitchen. You want some lemonade? You look frazzled," you offer, brushing your hand over his sunburned shoulder lightly as he scoots right past you.

"Thanks, Y/N." Dustin strides into the kitchen with purpose, glaring at Steve pretty heavily as he takes your seat at the table. "Why are you here?"

"Fucking charming. I came to see you, Henderson, but you're never home. Too busy finding secluded knolls to radio your girlfriend and play karaoke."

"Dick," Dustin says, though he defrosts as you fill a glass for him.

"What do you want?" Steve asks him.

"Why do you assume I want something?"

"Don’t be coy, you're not Madonna. It's tacky."

"Dick," Dustin says again, glaring.

"Dustin, do you want something to eat? You shouldn't go out in the sun all day by yourself, you know? What if you get heat stroke?" you ask.

Steve gives you a strange look like he's puzzled with you. You smile back at him, hand coming down on the back of Dustin's chair easily.

"Steve, I need a ride to Mike's," Dustin says, completely ignoring you.

Steve kicks him under the table. "Manners."

"Can I please have a ride-"

"To her, dipshit. Jeez, what's wrong with you? She asked if you're hungry."

Dustin beams at you innocently, soft cheeks rounding. "No thank you Y/N you're a godsend and I appreciate you very much," he says all in a rush, turning back to Steve, the act entirely dropped. "Now can we go?"

"Christ, fine. I'm gonna get you one of those rewards cards for being a shithead. This incident would be a double stamp, by the way."

"Uh-huh," Dustin says.

The younger teen chugs his glass of lemonade and spins off, calling a thank you over his shoulder. Steve gets up to follow him, your old cassette player held carefully in his hands.

"I'm sorry about him."

"Don't be. I've known him his entire life. He's in a phase," you inform him with a small grin, shrugging as if to say, what you gonna do?

"Long phase. Thank you. For the player and the lemonade."

"You're welcome," you say warmly, walking him to the door.

Dustin's already in the passenger seat, having taken his pulley cart back inside. He makes a hurry up motion from behind his window and Steve mutters expletives to himself, giving you one last smile before he trudges off.

The two boys wave at you through the windshield. You wave back.

When Steve's car has winked from view you take your lemonade and paperback outside again to lie under what's left of the sun. You try your best to fall back into the jungle and conjure its sights and sounds, only you keep finding your thoughts wrapped up around a certain boy's laugh and the face he makes as he does, that startled grin, a fist half raised to his mouth.

"Y/N!" A familiar teen voice accompanied by battering knocking at your front door.

You pull it open, still in your pajamas, hair a mess. His knocking had woken you up. You'd had about ten seconds to check you hadn't drooled too violently in your sleep before he was calling your name, and so you hadn't bothered getting dressed.

You wish you had. Dustin stood at the door with Steve Harrington behind him, a happy smile on both their faces.

You try not to flinch as you throw an arm across your chest subconsciously. "Hi?" you ask. "Is everything okay?"

Dustin's dressed for the beautiful weather in shorts and a shirt with sleeves so short it may as well be a tank top, a hat perched familiarly over his cute curls. Steve is dressed in a tormenting pair of jeans paired with a denim jacket. Double denim. He looks hot, physically and figuratively.

"Do you wanna come skating?" Dustin asks urgently.

You blink at him, pulling the edges of your strappy vest down to cover your navel, plaid bottoms low on your hips – you're a mess.

"Skating? I don't have one."

"A skateboard?" Dustin asks, shrugging. "Bring your rollerblades."

You err at the door, leaning your weight against it as you think. "When?"

"Now!" he says.

"I don't want to hold you up," you say, aimed more towards Steve than Dustin.

Steve smiles, hooking cheeks pink with the heat, and is about to talk when Dustin says, "He made me come ask you, he's fine to wait."

You bite back a smirk at Steve's deer-in-the-headlights expression and nod happily. "Alright. Twenty minutes and I'll be ready. If that's okay?"

"Totally," Steve says.

You close the door most of the way and catch a look over his shoulder, finding his pretty friend Robin in one seat and a gaggle of Dustin's friends in the back.

You hear a sharp thwarping sound as you spin away followed by a "What the fuck, dude?" from Dustin and hope that he hasn't tripped over one of your flower pots. You get ready and spend at least ten minutes worrying after your appearance in the mirror before grabbing the skates and jetting into the kitchen. You gather as many impromptu snacks you can find and shove them into a grocery bag, struggling to lock the door behind you in want of a free hand.

Steve jumps out of the driver's side to open the side door for you. You smile gratefully and dump the snacks and your skates in the footwell before climbing in, an empty seat between you and Dustin’s redheaded friend.

You're saved from the awkwardness of seeing people you've met but don't quite know by their ongoing debate, something about which Bruce Springsteen song is best.

“It’s obviously Dancing in the Dark. I don’t really know why we’re still talking about this,” Robin says from the passenger seat.

“You’re just saying that because it’s his most popular,” the girl next to you says.

“Things are popular for a reason.” Robin shrugs.

“Yeah, Max. Plus, popular or not, it’s his best.”

Max scrunches up her entire face. “Better than I’m on Fire?”

There’s a long pause where each child deliberates. Dustin and Mike dissolve into fierce looks.

“Nobodies talking about Born in the USA,” Steve says into the quiet, eyes on the road but head tilted back.

“Shut up, Steve,” Mike says, looking as exhausted as he usually does when you’ve seen him coming in and out of Dustin’s. Though it's been a while, he hasn't changed. Perpetually done with people's shit.

“Disrespectful,” Steve murmurs. His eyes flash to the rear view, catching you red-handed as you stare at him. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About Springsteen."

You consider him, his smile, his gaggle of cruel children. “I like Born in the USA,” you say nonchalantly.

“That’s two points,” Steve says triumphantly.

The skatepark is pretty busy because of the good weather. You and Steve end up unpacking your snacks onto a blanket Robin lays out whilst the boys go look for their friend Lucas, who's supposedly already here.

Max doesn't seem pleased with this revelation, sitting down heavily by Steve's picnic basket. Steve offers her a PB&J from the basket and a cold caprisun and she perks up, but not a lot. You want to spend time with Steve, you're not disillusioned into thinking you're anything but a flower under his attention, blooming and wanting, but Max's sad eyes get the better of you.

Too late for introductions, you dive straight in. “What’s in the Walkman?” you ask, nodding at the player sticking out of her jacket pocket, the foam padded headphones around her neck.

“Wild Things Run Fast, Joni Mitchell.” It sounds like a question.

You’ve struck gold immediately. “I love Joni Mitchell! Have you heard her new stuff?”

Max seems alarmed and happy at once, red messy braids swaying as she lifts her chin. “I mean, only what they’ve played on the radio.”

“Her album came out this October, Dog Eat Dog? I have the cassette if you wanna borrow it. It’s amazing.”

“Really?” she asks. She’s peeling the crusts off of her sandwich, one side at a time, dropping them into the small pile of discarded Saran Wrap.

“For sure. You’ve heard Shiny Toys?” Max nods. “It’s all as good as that one. Seriously.”

“Awesome,” she says, taking a huge bite of her sandwhich.

You realise you might’ve come on a little strong and try to backtrack into cool territory again, hand brushing Steve’s ankles as you lean away from the poor girl, smiling sheepishly.

“My mom loves Joni Mitchell,” Robin says.

“Robin," Steve chides lightly.

“What?”

You and Steve share a look that’s so familiar it gives you pins and needles in your hands, something small between the two of you clicking into place. Or at least that’s how you feel.

Max has almost finished her sandwich by the time Mike returns. “Are you ready?” he asks her.

She clambers onto her feet and grabs her skateboard from behind Steve. The two walk away, a distance from Dustin and Lucas, who both seem to have acquired a pair of skates each. Dustin in knee pads and a helmet, Lucas without.

“Why would you say Max listens to mom music?” Steve asks incredulously once they’re out of hearing distance.

Robin shakes her head, similarly incensed. “I didn’t say that.”

“There were so many other things you could’ve said, Robs.” He sounds less mad and more pitying.

"I didn't say that! I said my mom listens to her. She does!"

"Don't take offense. Robin got dropped as a baby," Steve says to you offhandedly.

You know the best course of action here and you take it – in what world would you make an enemy of a boy you might like's best friend who is a girl? Not this one. Plus, Robin seems super nice.

"I'm not offended. My mom loves Joni too," you say cheerily, smiling at Robin, unabashed.

You're slightly disappointed when she looks away towards her lap, until she says, "Projections a bad look on you, Harrington. He has, like, a flat head," she tells you.

Steve starts yammering loudly. "Shut up! My head's perfect, you're being ridiculous. Perfectly round and ordinary, thank you."

"Yeah, I'd definitely say your head's perfectly round," you agree through giggles, reaching for your skates.

You have a funny feeling that a silent conversation is happening as you slide off your shoes and into the skates, lacing up tight, but when you look up Robin's sifting through the accumulated snack pile and Steve's looking the opposite way, towards the kids.

You clear your throat. "Are you guys gonna skate too?"

"Steve is."

"I didn't bring-"

"He's borrowing mine. It's too hot, I can't skate. And I don't have the coordination, anyway."

Steve looks at Robin, at you, Robin again. "I'm not good," he says. You take it for yes.

Steve gets on his skates and straps out of his denim jacket, exposing the distracting lengths of his arms. He's better than he gives himself credit for, steady on his feet. He knows how to stop and start, and you smile to yourself when the two of you skate off towards Dustin and Lucas, following their journey around the skate park, careful to stay clear of the bowls and rails.

"You're good! You said you weren't good!" you say to him.

"I'm not good."

"You're doing great!"

He smiles gratefully, the expression at home over his warm features. He's not really a very smiley guy, you've realised, his lips often pulled up into a grimace or a cruel approximation of a smile, sarcastic. It suits him. You go to say as much, eyes eating up every little detail of him.

"Hey Steve? You should-" and your foot pops over a rock.

You shriek and throw your arm out towards him. Steve catches you with impressive strength and speed as your leg buckles. You've quickly righted yourself and he brings you to a slow but not quite stop. Stopping on skates is easier said than done, especially old skates with the front guards already worn down.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You've taken his hand without thinking, the two of you widening apart and then coming together like the eclipse of a blinking eye.

You pull your hand away apologetically, the warmth of his palm lingering.

"I'm sorry!" you say.

"Don’t be. Last thing I wanna do is have you crack your head open on my watch. I’m glad you didn’t wipe out."

"Thanks to you."

You slow and stop. Steve does the same, the two of you clumsy for different reasons. He watches as you calm your racing heart.

"Shit, I really thought I was gonna fall. You're a lifesaver." You stare straight into his eyes, their sunlight honey brown, smiling with complete genuineness. He's more than pretty. "Thank you."

Steve swallows and his smile is warmer, somehow, impossibly warmer. Maybe it's the beautiful weather, maybe it's the beautiful boy. You suddenly feel very, very hot.

"I think I might need to sit down."

"Oh, shit," he says, reaching for your arm. You're about to correct his touching – you're not dizzy, just a little nauseous. Only, his hand. His fingers clasped around your elbow, his face fiercely protective.

You let him guide you back to the picnic blanket. One hand around your elbow, the other behind your sun-warmed back, and somehow his hand is the hottest spot.

"Are you okay?" Robin asks, shielding her eyes from the sun. The book in her lap slips shut as she straightens.

"She's okay," Steve says. “Too hot. Budge up."

Robin moves over on the blanket and throws the basket open. Steve reaches in for a capri sun and passes it to you. It's lukewarm, though the day is so hot it's a relief to drink it.

"Steve's really good," you tell her after a noisy suck, the orange plastic straw stabbing your lip. You frown down at it.

"I saw you guys whizzing around. Public menaces, both of you," Robin says, though she smiles as she does. You know she's joking. You don't want to think it in case it's not true, but you feel like maybe she wants to be friends.

"We prefer speed demons," Steve says easily, still kneeling at your side.

"They should lock you up."

You snort and almost squirt juice from your nose, spluttering and coughing as you bend at the waist. Steve pats your back less than gently and then more so as you move your hand towards him.

"I'm okay," you cough, embarrassed at how you must look hacking your lungs out.

Steve's hand, again on your back, rubs a stern line. "Chill out, Y/N. You can't die before dinner."

"We're getting McDonald's," Robin supplies.

"Don't tell the kids," he says, smirking.

He's still rubbing your back. You suspect you might agree to anything while he's this close.

"You sound like such a dad when you say shit like that."

Steve scowls at Robin's words and pulls his hands away, crossing them over his chest. "Don't say that. Babysitter is more than enough, don't you think? Y/N?"

"An older brother?" you suggest to Robin's extreme delight.

She laughs. Steve scrubs at his face with both hands until his eyes are red.

Robin's sick and Steve's going crazy by himself, manning the desk at FV with almost no energy and even less enthusiasm. A week since he'd held your hand and he can't seem to stop thinking about it.

He catches himself staring at his own empty palm and clenches his fist, bringing his eyes back to the door in case someone walks in and he has to pull off the headphones of your borrowed cassette player.

Steve had discovered a forgotten cassette inside, listening to it out of curiosity the night you'd given him the player and then every night since then. He felt guilty about keeping it without saying anything but he was only borrowing it, he reasoned. He'd give it back when Dustin fixed his skipping Walkman.

The tape was Van Halen II. And Steve's not stupid, he knows who Van Halen are, but he's never sat and listened through any of their full albums. Now he can't stop, constantly rewinding back to the same song, over and over.

He does so now, fingers clumsy and too big over small buttons until the first line kicks in, powerful and high energy like a burst of fresh air.

Have you seen her?

So fine and pretty.

He grins as it plays, thinking of you instantly. Your smile and your legs, the wind whipping at your skirt and exposing stretches of skin he can't stop remembering. You on your rollerblades, the second time after an emergency PB&J, skating in front of him without looking behind you.

"Don't let me crash into someone, okay?" you'd asked, swaying from one side to the other as you shifted your weight.

"It'll be too late to stop you if I see someone! Turn around!" he'd demanded, though his fondness had peeked through.

You'd thrown your hands out. "You'll have to steer me!"

And so he'd grabbed your hands and you'd laughed like a fool as you skated together, squealing through close calls and bumpy ground.

He thinks of your hands in his, their weight and size, the magnetic pulse he'd felt between them, how happy you'd seemed to be with him.

He was harbouring a crush on you. Too old to deny what it feels like to want a pretty girl, Steve wonders if this is entirely a good idea – letting himself like you when the possibility of rejection feels high. You are, as Dustin had promised him, out of Steve's league. "Don't try your luck, dude."

Steve thought for a second that his thinking about you had summoned your image, your easy walk and the elegant way about your hands and how you held them, in a blue dress with matching strappy mary-jane's, white socks with the ruffle tops. He blinks. No way he could think up anything as pretty.

You push open the door and grin from across the room, a large tupperware of some type in your hands. His eyes move up from your fingers where they clutch plastic, your wrist, your arms. The puff sleeves of your dress are short and cuffed, similar to the matching ruched neckline that shows enough to make him swallow. A necklace lays in the valley of your chest, a silver chain with a blue flower at the end, small but thick. Five round petals, a cutout missing that shows a circle of your chest beneath.

"Steve," you say, like you'd been in mid conversation. "Please tell me you have a sweet tooth."

He pulls the headphones from his head and leaves them around his neck, fixing his hair as casually as he can when he says, "Sure, I like candy."

You set your container down on the counter and crack it open, the rich, buttery smells of its contents quickly filling the room.

"I made penuche for Dustin's mom's birthday, but I made so-" you drag the word out, lips a gloss-sticky 'o', "much of it. I can't eat it all. And she said I wasn't allowed to give it to Dustin 'cos he keeps using the f-word."

His laugh is startled but genuine. "Not the f-word."

The fudge is a light brown, almost pink in the neon tinted lighting. It smells divine, and he's saved from an internal debate about what's cool when you push the tub towards him. "Do you like fudge?" you ask him.

He takes one and you take one, and he tries not to look at you as you eat, or when you scratch gloss and a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

"You’re a modern Martha Stewart," Steve says happily.

"Only on special occasions. Where's Robin?" you ask, elbows braced on the counter and leaning in.

"Sick. Apparently."

"Apparently," you repeat, grinning. "What, she didn't look sick?"

"She talked to me on the phone. She sounded sick," he concedes. "Good things it's Thursday."

You look around the completely empty store. "This is what it usually looks like on a Thursday?"

"It's Hawkins. Half the people here get their VHS from the library, the others drive out to Blockbuster. We get about as much foot traffic as an ice cream stand in September."

"It's 'cos you take too long to get the new ones,'' you say. "No offense."

"The tone of someone personally victimised by a Family Video wait list."

"You got me. I've been trying to get the Breakfast Club for two months!" you complain, scratching your chest lazily.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest until his hands are hidden, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so this is bribery penuche."

You blink at him and then your lips part in horror, pretty eyes widening. "No!"

"It totally is. You're trying to butter me up," he says, suave tone disrupted by the need to giggle at his own pun. "Y/N, how could you? Here I thought we were starting to be friends and you're using me for my video store?"

His mock horror puts you eat ease when you realise he's joking. "I really wanna see that movie," you say dejectedly. You reach for another piece of fudge and bite it in half, your chewing morose. "It feels like everybody saw it at the movies but me."

"Of course they did. Why didn't you?"

You glare at him. "I was busy!"

"For the month it was in theatres?"

"Yes!" you defend yourself from his teasing. "I have things to do!"

"Like what?"

"Like school!"

"Everybody has school."

"You're picking on me after I brought you candy. This is so cruel." You don't sound like you've suffered any cruelty. Steve might say you're really enjoying yourself.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

You glare at his insincere pet name. "Whatever. Oh, hey, how's she treating you?" you ask, eyes on the cassette player. "Steve, you have my Van Halen tape! Thank god, I thought I lost it."

"Right. Sorry, I meant to give it back," he lies.

You shrug your shoulders. "Keep it however long you want to. It's good, right? Which one's your favourite?"

He pulls the headphones out and rewinds back before setting the player in front of you. You raise your eyebrows at him but click play, and the audio starts abruptly, loud and mid quality.

Yes, it's love in the third degree.

You grin, head bobbing, eyes flitting to his with approval written all over your face. You don't seem to hesitate before you sing along under your breath, high pitched but quiet.

"Ooh, baby baby. Won't-cha turn your head my way?"

He feels a little enchanted by you, that same magnetism he'd felt between his hands, can't believe how pretty you are and how sweetly you move. You laugh at yourself as you sing the next line, an intense, almost theatrical look upon your face. Like you're swooning.

"Ooh, baby baby. Ah come on! Take a chance, you're old enough to-" You flare your eyes at him and nod, mouth open encouragingly.

He won't join in, no matter how electric he finds you. You roll your eyes and your shoulders roll in a half-dance as you hum along to the chorus.

Dance the night away.

"You're no fun, Steve," you complain, giggling.

"You're enough for the two of us."

You peer over the counter, still moving with the music as you ask, "What were you doing? Before I came in?"

"Looking through the computer at what's late being returned. Riveting, extremely hard work."

"Do you get, like, secret intel on what new movies are coming in?"

"Sure we do. Wanna see?" he asks.

You creep around the counter and stand by his side. He scrolls through the system and translates acronyms for you. "This is the coming in," he says, drawing a line down a list of movie names. "These are what's being moved back to the headquarters."

"Headquarters," you repeat, leaning in to see the screen more clearly. You browse the new titles idly, slipping closer and closer to the computer.

"You'll burn your retinas."

"Invaders from Mars, Youngblood, Black Moon Rising," you list thoughtfully. You turn on your heel. "I don't know any of those. You got a chic-flicks section?"

You're really close. Steve looks at you, this close, this pretty, his hands itching to touch you. He leans in and your arms fall to your sides, the space between you growing ever smaller.

"We do," he says slowly, eye to eye, almost daring you to look at his mouth instead. He wants you to. He wants to look at yours.

You're steadfast, not impassive but certainly unreadable as you say, "Show me?"

Steve reaches for the mouse behind you like he was always intending to, hiding any smugness he feels when you exhale noticeably. You turn back around, his arm brushing over yours as he sorts through the tag system to show you "ROM-COM INCO".

"These are all the ones we have coming in. You know any of those?"

"Hannah and Her Sisters. I saw that one."

"Finally had some free time?" he asks wryly.

"Shut up, Steve."

"You know… I can keep the Breakfast Club for you. Next time it comes in."

The smile you give him is blinding. "Thanks, Steve."

"Yeah, no problem." He hopes the sudden increase in temperature is mutual.

Your backyard is a field of flowers. Maybe dramatic, but Steve's never seen so many, a heavy green spotted in chartreuse, vermillion, bright oranges and pink-white. You lay on a towel in the grass surrounded by them, the sun lighting you up, your skin glowing and perfect.

You're in black, spandex type shorts and a bikini top. Steve feels like a perv for looking, so he clears his throat. You don't budge.

He creeps closer. You're in headphones listening to your Walkman. He can hear the music from where he stands at your backdoor, so it must be loud. He stands over you and hopes his shadow will wake you up. When it still doesn't he gets concerned, kneeling down carefully with his knees digging into your towel.

"Y/N. Hey," he says.

Still nothing.

He pulls your headphones off gently, looking over your face in worry. You must be sleeping.

"Y/N, you shouldn't sleep out here. You'll get sun stroke," he says. He strokes your arm though he shouldn't. He can't help himself, his fingers pressing into the crook of your elbow.

You blink awake and then slam your eyes closed. Steve adjusts himself to block the sun from your face and you manage to pry your eyes open, confused.

"Hello."

"Hey," he says. He can't help the fondness that plays over his smile.

"Shit." Your eyes go wide and you cover your chest with your arm. "I'm naked."

"You're not naked," he says.

"I'm naked. Stop looking at me."

Steve turns away obligingly.

"Stop laughing at me, Harrington."

"Is there anything I'm allowed to do?" he asks, though he does stop laughing.

"I'm so embarrassed. I was sunbathing and I must've fallen asleep."

Steve lets his eyes stray to your naked thigh. He stares at your skin, follows a stretch mark upwards and then swiftly peels his gaze away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a total perv. I can go wait in my car."

"You're not a perv. I'm being a priss. Sorry. I know I'm not, like, a model and I wasn't expecting to have this much skin on show. I don't look like Nancy Wheeler."

You sound more nervous than Steve has ever heard you. Worse, you sound dejected, though you've tried for nonchalance. Steve stares at you until you raise your chin, your fingers pinching meanly at your thighs.

"You're messing with me," he says.

"What?" you ask, incredulous. "I'm not messing with you."

"You gotta know you're beautiful. That's, like, a stone cold fact. A hard truth. You're beautiful. Who cares if you don't look like Nance?"

You sigh, though it's not very believable when you're smiling so much. "She's really pretty."

"So are you."

"You know what I mean, Steve. She's… small."

"She's a small woman," he agrees. "That doesn't make her prettier than you."

"You're sure?" you ask quietly.

Steve means it a hundred percent when he says, "I'm sure."

The two of you sit there for a few seconds. He can hear your breathing and he's wondering if you can hear his.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

Your hand is still held across your stomach but you're thankfully looking more relaxed. Steve meant what he said, you're beautiful, he couldn't care less that you're taller or that you weigh more than his ex. You're fucking pretty, and seeing you all laid out and sun kissed has made him kind of crazy.

"Steve?" you ask.

"Oh. I brought you The Breakfast Club. Just got it back in this morning," he rushes to say, grabbing the VHS tape from where he'd left it on the ground. The Family Video spine is glaringly ugly compared to you and your flowers.

"Woah, thank you!"

"You're welcome. It's under my name though, so don't keep it late. Can't disprespect the FV name. I'm going for employee of the month."

You giggle. "You are? Are you the top contender?"

"Nope."

You laugh some more, the sound delicate and sweet as spun sugar, in Steve's humble opinion.

"Not that my fellow employees try any harder, but Keith just picks himself every month for the free credits."

You rub your fingers across the front of the box. "I won't be late. I mean, I'll watch it today, I've been so excited to see it."

Steve stands up. "Sorry to disturb your idyllic sunbathing."

"Idyllic," you murmur, smiling. "You're good, Steve. Thank you for the movie."

"You're welcome. I'll see you later?" he asks, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, slowly backing away.

"No," you say. He raises his eyebrows and you look sheepish but not shy when you continue, "Do you wanna stay? Watch the movie with me? I have stovetop popcorn and soda and everything."

"What about the great weather? You don't wanna waste it."

You force your hands between your thighs and hunch forward slightly. "I do wanna waste it. I mean, I've had enough for today, don't you think? I'm a half hour from heat stroke."

"You're looking pretty warm," he says. Anything to take you up on your offer without sounding too interested.

You're trying not to give Steve the side eye. Trying, but he's very attractive and very close, and he keeps making funny jokes. It's annoying how hot he is.

Steve has slouched back and his jeans have slowly edged down, exposing the flesh of his hip. Not that you've noticed, or anything.

You cram a big handful of popcorn into your mouth and flick your eyes back to the screen. You'd really wanted to see this movie but Steve keeps capturing your attention, again and again, over and over. You can't believe you'd asked him to stay and he had, can't believe he brought the VHS for you in the first place.

That's a dedicated employee right there.

You shuffle closer to him under the guise of sharing your popcorn. Your shoulders touch.

"Thanks," he says. His thigh hits your thigh as he takes a handful.

"Steve," you say softly.

"What?"

"I don't feel well. I think the sun killed me."

He throws his arm around the back of the couch and twists, careful not to upend the popcorn bowl as he looks over you searchingly. You've seen Steve play caretaker before, but being under his watch is different. He's almost a different person as he checks you over.

"You feel sick?" he asks. He holds his hand out between you, his knuckles at your eye level. "Can I?"

You tilt your head back and close your eyes. Steve presses the back of his hand to your forehead and pets down softly, feeling for your temperature.

"You're still really warm. Let's get you cooled down."

Steve springs up and knocks the bowl. You blink, slightly disoriented as he disappears into the kitchen, picking up spilled popcorn off of the couch and eating it with slow chews. Now you think of it, your arms hurt, too.

Steve returns and sits on the edge of the sofa, a bag of peas in his hand. "I raided your freezer. Lean your head back."

"I'm fine," you say, but tilt your head back anyways, gasping when the cold hits you.

"You might actually get heatstroke. Do you know how dangerous heat stroke is? You need to cool down. Where's the A/C?"

"It's on."

Steve feels along your cheek gingerly. "I can't believe you fell asleep outside. What's that about?" He pauses. "Are you sleeping okay?"

"I'm sleeping fine."

"Are you sure?"

His wrist turns and you feel the pad of his fingers rather than the back, the palm of his hand as he cups your face.

You peek through your lashes at him. His eyebrows are pinched and his bottom lip juts out in a concerned pout.

"You can tell me."

The way he says it – well, you imagine you could tell him anything. He sounds warm and worried. This close you can smell his cologne, something heavy with sage, a little bit of lilac hidden under unmistakable bergamot. It's all so comforting and the sun has loosened your tongue.

"Maybe not so much. It's… it's hot. You know? And…"

"What?" he murmurs. Your heart skips as his thumb rubs over your cheek.

You close your eyes like your confession might take form. "I'm kind of lonely, lately," it sounds like a question, "and it's- it keeps me up sometimes. I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud."

"It doesn't sound stupid."

"No?"

"No, I get it." He pulls away but doesn't move too far, his hand still holding the freezing peas to your forehead, the other brushing against your arm as he drops it in his lap. "These days Dustin doesn't leave me alone. I don't want him to, either. The same with Robs."

You let your head loll to the side. Steve doesn't look shy or scared to tell you, talking almost matter of fact. "But my parents were never home when I was in high school. They still aren't. I felt it more back then."

"Yeah. I don't know. I never see anybody. Besides Dustin," you say. "We have him in common."

"You see me."

"When I'm annoying you at work."

"You don't annoy me." He's stern though he abruptly turns into a conspirator whispering secrets. "Robin's fuse gets shorter with me everyday."

"How come?" you ask, co-conspirator.

"I can't stop watching the door."

You lift your head. Steve takes back his bag of peas and feels along your forehead, now cold enough to ache.

"Here, hold these to your chest. I'd do it for you, but…"

You take the peas and hide a terrible smile, heart racing between your ears. Your nausea has flipped completely into butterflies and they're rabid, knocking at your abdomen insistently.

You're trying to think of a way to make him say nice things again when there's a knock at the door.

"Dustin," you both say.

"Jinx, buy me a soda," Steve says.

You glare at him and he laughs all the way to the door.

"Why are you always here? Where's Y/N?"

"She's got heat stroke."

"I don't!" you call hoarsely.

"You sound like you do," Dustin says. "Can one of you give me a ride?"

"She has heat stroke."

You climb onto the back of the sofa to look down the hallway. Dustin stands at the front door with a huge piece of engineering in his arms that you don't understand, wires and ciricuits and things.

"Remeber when you used to bike everywhere? What happened to that?" Steve asks, sounding majorly pissed. You can't work out why he's so frustrated but it makes you laugh again.

The two boys turn to you with twin looks of confusion.

"I can't bike there, genius. This won't fit in the basket."

You laugh again, twice as loud.

"What's wrong with her?" Dustin asks, shaking his head.

"What don't you understand about heat stroke?

"Potential heat stroke," you interject.

"She fell asleep in the sun. I don't know how long she was out there her brain might be totally jellified, dude."

"You should take her to the hospital."

You clamber onto aching limbs and walk until your behind Steve, reaching for his elbow automatically. "I'm fine, babe. What's your doohickey?"

Dustin smirks and pulls the weight closer to his chest. "Prototype."

"For what?"

"Top secret."

You giggle some more, wobbling with the force of it. Steve sighs and wraps his arm around your back, his hand under your arm to grip you at the ribs.

Dustin gets wide eyes like a looney tunes character. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Steve hisses. "Look, let me set Y/N up with the works and I'll drive you where you want to go, you brat."

Dustin drops his suspicion, having got what he wants. "I'll wait in the car. Feel better!"

"That's three stamps on the shithead card, shithead!" Steve calls after him. The two of you watch his retreating figure and then Steve is manhandling you (not too roughly) down the hallway and back onto the sofa.

"I'm not dying, Steve."

Steve puts your popcorn bowl in your lap and the frozen peas back on your chest. He fills your glass either the warming carafe on the coffee table and then bends down to talk to you, entirely too intense.

"Are you good?" he asks.

"Perfect. I don't even feel hot anymore."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Listen, I'm gonna go drop Dustin off, and then I'm gonna call you to make sure you're not dead."

"You don't have to do that, Steve," you say, moving down into the couch, a cushion falling over as you do. He straightens it out, cups your face in his hand so fast you think you've imagined it and then squints at you.

"Don't die of heat stroke."

He starts to walk away and you're startled. Unfairly, you don't want him to go, and you call, "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"What about The Breakfast Club?"

He grins at you, a lazy, King Steve kind of smile. "I was always gonna leave that here. So you can come 'annoy' me at work when you return it." He pulls a hand through his hair and gives you a once over and then spins on his heel. "Make sure you answer when I call!"

You lose sight of him as he leaves, the couch backing too tall. He shuts the door kindly and you can just about hear the crunch of gravel as his car pulls away.

"He was definitely flirting with me," you say to yourself, pouring a sweet handful of popcorn into your mouth. You're smiling so wide it's hard to chew.

Dustin bursts into Family Video with his small entourage, Mike and Lucas, and an urgent look on his face. Steve quickly stops his facade of being busy when he clocks them.

"What? Need to borrow ten dollars?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, it's about Y/N," Dustin says.

Steve stretches across the desk on his elbows.

"What about her?" he asks, suspecting a waste of time.

"She was crying her eyes out in her backyard last night."

Steve blinks, feeling a pit open up in his chest. "What? Why?"

"Well…" Dustin says. "I didn't ask."

Steve pictures your pretty face crinkled with tears, sitting on the paving stones outside your house. He wonders what would make you cry, sob, whatever it was. You'd confessed to being lonely though he sort of hopes that the feeling has ebbed now that he's calling you every day. At first, under the guise of checking up on you, but, I don't think I'm at risk of heat stroke anymore Steve. It's been a week and a half.

Better safe than sorry.

"Nancy said she saw her outside outside Bradley's Big Buy last night looking miserable," Mike adds, in one of his worst outfits, a mismatch of colours and long socks, a visor that Steve once tried to bribe Dustin to destroy on a hot day with his magnifying glass. The small burned spot perseveres at the caps edge.

Steve feels weirdly proud at their concern and better, their detective skills. The three of them look like they could solve crimes, a mystery gang. Lucas is the only one dressed well in Steve's opinion, though that might be because he's in similar fashion, a nice polo and blue jeans.

"You don't know what's wrong with her?" Lucas asks.

His pride wanes. "Oh, you guys are here for gossip?" he asks scathingly.

"No!"

"You're her boyfriend, right?"

"Not-" Steve swallows, "exactly."

Robin, who had been listening from her stool a few feet back, strides over and falls into place by his side, braced by her elbows.

"If Steve were her boyfriend, we'd know why she was crying," she says, earning a round of boyish chuckles.

Steve nods and then understands her meaning, feeling stupid for assuming Robin would say something that wasn't mean while at work. "Fuck off, I'm a good boyfriend."

Four sets of eyebrows raise.

"I am! I'm romantic."

"You smashed our trellis and dislodged a drain pipe," Mike says.

Steve pins the dark haired boy with a smarted look.

"Sorry, is that not romantic? Sneaking out to see a girl?"

"Sneaking in to a young woman's bedroom," Robin says dryly.

"Pervert style," Dustin agrees sagely.

"Jesus Christ." Steve turns away from his band of adopted heathens and takes the phone into his hand. "I'm gonna call her."

"And what? Tell her we were spying?" Dustin says.

Steve holds the cold plastic to his neck. "Were you?"

"Girls lie about their feelings, anyway. You're never gonna get a straight answer," Lucas says morosely. "Trust me."

He slams the phone down. "What am I supposed to do?"

They stand in a heavy silence. Steve can feel a headache clipping his heels, approaching fast, stress and a sharp worry for you. He really doesn't see why he can't call you and check in.

"Something nice?" Robin suggests, picking at her nails.

"Like what?" he asks. Though, as soon as he says it, he already has the beginnings of an idea. Whether its a good one or not is anyones guess.

Somebody knocks the door and all you can think is, oh god why me?

You're in a bad approximation of pajamas - your comfiest and yet your sloppiest, old and worn and unattractive. Fresh out of a stress-cry shower, you've only just managed to catch your breath.

It's like you told Steve, everything lately feels so lonely. You'd gone grocery shopping by yourself and had known without a doubt that you were moving unseen through the world. Something about deciding between TV dinners. Nobody knew where you were, what you were doing, or where you were going. The only people seeing you were the storegoers of Bradley's Big Buy and your disgruntled cashier. You doubt you'd made a good impression.

It was maybe a silly thing to feel overwhelmed by, but you felt it anyways. Sick with loneliness and then panic. A thousand what ifs had filled your head; you couldn't stop thinking, what if it's like this forever?

What if I feel this lonely forever?

You'd finished grocery shopping with a peculiar numbness weighing you down and then you'd gone home to cry in the garden, comforted and horrified by your flowers. They were pretty and you'd planted them and it didn't matter, you were still alone. A ladybug had crawled over the nearest planter and you'd watched it until you calmed down, knees crossed and elbows digging into your thighs, pins and needles in your hands.

Another insistent knock. You consider ignoring it and curling up into a ball. Something hooks you out of it. What if it's Steve?

If it's Steve, you're gonna feel very embarrassed about your appearance. You check your reflection in the sheen of a photo frame and sigh, rubbing your face with one hand as you open the door.

Steve stands a few feet away, leaning against the side of his car with a pair of shades slipping down his nose. He takes them off.

You're so happy to see him you forget your rumpled outfit.

"Hi," you say, half-shouting to cover the distance.

"Hey beautiful!" Steve shouts, properly, loud and unabashed.

The door digs into your tummy. You don't know what to say. His compliment flusters you from the get go.

"Hi," you say again, laughing under your breath.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

"Somebody told me you weren't feeling well!"

You frown, thoughts racing, and suddenly summon the image of your nosey young neighbour. You take a step back instinctively and Steve must see it because his face goes stony.

"I'm sorry, I know you probably didn't want me to know. But- when I found out you were upset, I couldn't ignore that. You'll have to forgive me."

You try pushing the smile off your face with your hand and stand there scratching your top lip. "No. No, it's okay."

He raises his eyebrows and takes a few big steps towards your house. You step out onto the porch and he closes the space between you, holding his hands out. You take them and he envelopes you, warm hands pulling you along and up the path.

He walks backwards. "Don't let me crash into someone, okay?"

A memory. The two of you hand in hand, ground flashing under your skates.

"Okay," you say weakly.

He squeezes your hands and drops them, a foot from the car. "Stay," and he doesn't finish, turning away from you. He opens the passenger door, the door behind and then the trunk.

The smell is beautiful. A floral wave.

The sight is something else. A carpet of bunches, bell-shaped freesias and carnations, roses in darkest red, chrysanthemums, dahlias, tiny orchids and irises; gorgeous purple irises with white centred petals buffeted by frilly sweetpeas.

"They didn't want to give me the buckets but I told them I had a really pretty girl waiting for me, and if they suffocated in the heat then I was gonna drive right back and complain loudly." He stands by your side and nudges you. "Break out in tears."

"That's a lot of flowers," you mumble.

"Half the store. The other half's on standby."

"Standby?"

"I worried you might not have the space."

"I won't."

Your gaze flits over soft petals and light green stems, thorns and leaves and greenery, baby breath tucked in by plastic wrapping.

"Why did you do this?"

"You…" he laughs at himself. "Okay, so. The day you had heat stroke-"

"I didn't have heat stroke. I had heat exhaustion."

"Semantics. You were lying in the backyard. Just… sleeping. I was waiting for you to look up and see me, and I couldn't- I still can't get the image out of my head. You looked unreal."

You feel hot all over as he searches for words. He's smiling wide as he talks, like he can't believe how happy he is. It's infectious.

He shakes his head. "Anyway, I know you like flowers. Obviously. So."

"So you got me a florists?"

"Half."

You hug your torso. The idea that somebody would do this for you, that Steve would do this for you, is so alien you can't comprehend it.

"They're for me?" you whisper.

"For you. All of them."

You look at him, the flowers, him again, and start to laugh. You throw your hands up to your cheeks and giggle like a little kid.

"Why are you laughing?" he asks, an undeniable affection in his curiosity.

"Why would you do this for me?" you ask in a similar tone.

He purses his lips and shrugs. "You could've called me. I want you to know that."

You scrub your hot cheeks and shift from foot to foot. "I was being silly."

"It's not silly. It's not stupid. And even if it was, I still want you to call me. These are 'call me' flowers. Call me first."

You wrap your hand around the top of the door and lean in for a look at the sea of flowers. Pollen sticks sweet in your nose.

"Do you like them?"

The smallest hint of insecurity. You can't stop laughing, joy warping every word. "Yeah, I love them," you say over your shoulder, feeling as though you've become nothing but a vestibule of breathless wonder.

"I didn't know which one was your favourite."

All of them, you think. Not sure you could pick one, your eyes bump from bouquet to bouquet.

You try to blink them away but tears form quickly, lashes heavy with them as you stand up straight and wipe under your eyes with the back of your index finger.

"Thank you, Steve."

"You're welcome." Steve comes up behind you and takes your shoulder into his hand, thumb rubbing roughly over your shirt. "C'mon, don't cry. I got you all those flowers because I don't want you to cry, not to make it worse."

"They're really pretty," you say, strained, pushing the bottoms of your palms into your eyes to stop from sobbing. That would be dramatic, you argue with yourself, so dramatic, but this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

"Shit," he mutters.

You tense up as his hand moves across your back to grip your other shoulder and he hugs you to his chest, left hand stroking the length of your upper arm, encouraging your hands from your face.

"You're okay, baby," he says.

You sniffle as his right hand climbs your shoulder to cup your neck. He pulls your face to his mouth and presses a kiss into your temple, warm and tingling, firecrackers under the skin. You turn your face to look at him and he pulls back, his chin jutting down.

The shape of his lips lingers on your forehead, a burn. White hot.

Steve wipes the tear tracks from your face with the side of his hand.

"I know what'll cheer you up," he says.

You miss his touch as soon as he's gone. He leans over the passenger seat, the chair and its footwell both bursting with flowers, and turns on the radio. You watch him click to the cassette player. He turns the volume up high and then pulls out.

Slowly, the song builds into a zinging guitar.

"Oh my god."

"Have you seen her? So fine and so pretty," Steve sings with no hesitation. You're startled by his confidence.

"Fooled me with her style and ease," he continues, holding out his hand.

You take it, listening to him fight his way to the right pitch, his voice cracking.

"And I feel her from across the room-" He takes your second hand, gaze electric. "Yes, it's love in the third degree."

He tugs at your hand, nodding until you join in.

"Ooh, baby, baby," you sing weakly, searching for footing.

"Won't-cha turn your head my way?" he begs.

"Ooh, baby, baby," you both sing, Steve with more passion, pulling your arm one way and another in an awkward dance.

"Come on, take a chance, you're old enough to," and here's where you both go weak and high and enthused all at once, glad the stereo's up so high you can't really hear it when you both shout, "dance the night away!"

It's not quite night yet. You've a lot of dancing to do if you're gonna listen to Van Halen's instructions, the sun a half-disk of gold on the horizon, the sky raspberry pink bleeding up into darkening indigo.

Steve grins at your growing enthusiasm and twirls you around. You only allow him this, too afraid to step on his toes as you come to a stop.

He hums along and you clutch his hand. You covet the other where it's held to his chest, pushing your fingers through his. They fit together perfectly.

"Am I ever gonna get that tape back?" you ask.

"No," he says, laughing loudly. "No way. I love this song."

"I love this song too. That's why I bought the album."

"You said however long I wanted!"

"I didn't think you'd stick around this long," you confess.

"I did," he says. He leans down, stops. "Can I kiss you?"

You nod and beat him to it, hand at his collar as you step on your toes and press your mouth to his. You're both smiling, your eyes closed tight and your lips tight together until he pulls back, pulling his hand from your brushing grip to stroke the side of your face, rough in his rush.

When you come back together it's slower, your lips parted mid-giggle as he moves in. You sigh, a high-pitched and embarrassing sound from the back of your throat that's quickly swallowed by his ardency.

"Stop laughing at me," he admonishes playfully.

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm really happy," you defend yourself, setting back on your heels.

You've forgotten all about your pajamas and the icky feeling in your chest. With Steve's palms to your cheeks like this – like you're something worth being cradled in careful hands – you can't feel anything but happy.

"I don't have enough vases for your flowers," you apologise as he chases you down, dropping kisses over the corner of your mouth and the apple of your cheek.

"Good thing I begged for all those buckets," he says, brown eyes squinting with the force of his cherubic smile. His pert nose flares with a silent laugh.

"Good thing," you agree.

He holds you by the shoulders. "Good thing," he says again.

You descend into another round of laughter that leaves you panting for air, your head dropping into his chest. "A really good thing."

"I didn't go overboard, did I?" he asks, petting the nape of your neck.

"You did."

"Sorry, I-"

You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him as hard as you can. He groans lightly as he encircles your shoulders, the tip of his nose a butterfly's wing against your forehead, impossibly light and skipping, back and forth and back again.

"I'm gonna make you flower shortbread," you say eventually, soaking in his warmth, his closeness.

"Yeah?"

"I swear. And more penuche. What's your favourite? I'll make you whatever you want. What do you have a sweet tooth for?"

"Could I get another kiss?" he asks quietly.

You tilt your head back and wait. Steve isn't quite smiling though his eyes boast an emotion you're afraid to name, unbearably fond.

"Are you gonna kiss me again?" you ask into the gap.

"In a sec, just… let me look at you," he says, hand cupping your cheek.

You blink back a stinging wave of tears and smile, tracing over his features greedily.

"You're beautiful," he says.

It’s funny. You were thinking the same thing about him.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading!

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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chuluoyi · 7 months

Text

romeo and juliet

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you were both young when you first saw each other. years later, you and your gentle childhood friend fall in love... but you're betrothed to someone else.

genre/warnings: modern royal(?) au, childhood friends to lovers, soft!megumi, fluff, forbidden love, arranged marriage, mild angst, comfort

notes: i love this request!! but i don’t know if this turned out good🥲 honestly, this is what unholy matrimony would be if done right in another universe *snorts* anyways i hope i did this right! enjoy!

had to repost it 3x bcs it didn't show up in the tags😭 based on this request: “Hey, can I ask a Megumi x Reader with the plot related to “Love Story” by Taylor Swift?” thank you anon!

listen to: love story - taylor swift duh

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Your father had always told you that you were promised to the Zen'in.

Ever since you were a child, he had groomed you to be the picture-perfect lady, and he always brought you to their ancestral home, a grand, maze-like estate you would always get lost in.

You were barely six back then, stumbling on your own feet as tears streamed down your face. You sought refuge in the gardens, hoping that someone would come to find you there eventually as you were tired of walking around.

And on that fateful day, the one who finally did was none other than the little Fushiguro Megumi, who looked at you with tilted head and confused eyes.

"Are you... okay?" he asked cautiously, and he was startled when your wide, teary eyes quickly focused on him. The next thing he knew, you immediately clung to his hand.

"I'm lost! Please help me!" you said with trembling voice, and Megumi merely blinked. This unknown girl suddenly latched onto him, well, who wouldn't be taken by surprise?

Yet, even as a child, Megumi knew how to treat someone right. Seeing you in distress, he immediately found a way to console you. "Okay... where are your parents? Let me take you back to them."

"I... don't know..."

He sighed. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears, and he didn't want that. He had to find another way. "Don't be scared. This place seems scary, but it's not."

You scrunched your face, tears already pooling in your eyes. "How is it not scary? There are so many windows and leaves! This is more like a jungle rather than a house!"

"Well..." Megumi wracked his head and a light bulb went off in his head when he caught the sight of the flowers. He pointed at a pot of roses. "Look, they're actually quite pretty, right?"

At that very moment, your focus was completely captured by the flourishing plant, and your eyes practically shimmered with delight.

Little Megumi thought then, that you were quite lovely.

And your friendship started then, as he took you by the arm to lead you to the main foyer.

Years flew by, and the only thing that made it bearable to pay a visit to the Zen'in was meeting Megumi. You both would explore various hidden corners and knew every nook and cranny of the place. And when you reached your teens, the "playing" was replaced by studying in the library together.

"Hrrrgh, why—can't—I—reach—"

You gritted your teeth in frustration as you attempted to pull the book from the top shelf, only to fail miserably. Your were too short. But you refused to surrender, standing on your tiptoes once more, you stretched your hand as far as it would go.

Suddenly, the scent of fresh roses filled the air, accompanied by a warm presence behind you. Your back made contact with him, and a longer hand effortlessly retrieved the book you desired.

"If you're having a hard time, ask me for help, dummy," Megumi shook his head and handed you the book. "Here."

"Thank you," you pouted. Despite the frequent close proximity between you two, you still found yourself feeling giddy.

Megumi was always like this though. He was curt, but he cares. He would often cheer you up whenever you father smothered you with the talk that he couldn't wait for the day you would be living at the Zen'in estate and became their bride. He would get you flowers, let you put your head on his shoulder, or quietly watch as you cried, offering his silent presence.

You really, really hoped that if you were to be married off to the Zen'in, it would be to Megumi. He was easily the boy you'd pick over Naoya, the son of the main branch of family. You were never close to him, the way he stared at you sure gave you the creeps.

"I can ask for your help anytime, right, Megumi?" you mused, observing his cool profile as he turned the page of the book he was reading.

He regarded you with the straightest face ever. "Of course. I have always helped you since we were kids. Why wouldn't I do that now?"

"Then..." you breathed. "Can you take me somewhere... anywhere, just away from all of this?"

Megumi stilled. He knew about the conflicts in your heart. He knew you hated being played as a pawn in your father's schemes, and he hated that too, because he simply didn't like how sad it made you.

And he hated that there was the looming possibility that you might be out of his reach far sooner than he thought.

"Sure," he answered. "Where do you wanna go?"

And then, you began to do just that. Sneaking out to the gardens, finding secret meeting spots in the town—because you were dead if anyone should know.

Before you knew it, you both had each other's hearts entirely in your hands—before you knew it, his face was mere inches from yours as you both concealed yourselves behind a large cluster of foliage in the Zen'in gardens, your father and the Zen'in clan head engrossed in a conversation just a few feet away.

Your clear, wide eyes blinked up at him, and Megumi gulped. At that moment, he realized once again that you, his childhood friend, were really stunning. And that you trusted him wholeheartedly enough to go with him and be found in this position, with him.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He was in love with you. Have been for a while now.

And so even with the great risk of being found out, he led you deeper into the woods, his arm wrapped around the small of your back, and with a soft tug, he planted the gentlest, sweetest kiss on your lips—your very first kiss. Everything was sealed then.

"So, do you say yes, or not?" he mumbled afterwards, his cheeks burst into the color of peach. Meanwhile you, still breathless, touched your lips in astonishment.

"You..." you couldn't help the grin that was blooming in your face. "You like me?"

He turned away. "Who wouldn't? After making me run after you, lead you to safe places, see you cry—"

"Okay, okay!" you giggled, and the sound was like music to his ears. "Then it's a yes!"

You were the happiest with him. Amidst the intrigues surrounding you and the Zen'in clan, the times you spent with him were your saving grace.

"Am I pretty?" you boldly twirled in front of him, after meeting up at the outskirts of the town in one of your escapades. Megumi watched you from head to toe, taking note of how your flare dress hugged your form so elegantly, and the straw hat that framed your head only made you look even more adorable.

He didn't immediately answer, and when he did, all with red cheeks, you smiled brightly, expecting a compliment.

"Don't do that. People are looking. You're embarrassing yourself."

You pouted. "So I'm not pretty..."

To your surprise, he suddenly plucked your hat and pulled you behind the pillar, and then the round hat was beside your head, hiding your face—

And he stole a kiss.

"Megumi!" you jolted, blood quickly rushed to your beautiful face. "This is public place!"

His soft chuckle only served to make your heart soar even higher.

You were living the dream, with the man of your dreams beside you. This love story no one knew, you were content with it.

"By this point, all there's left to do is run," you heaved between chuckles and his feathery kisses as the two of you hid away to have your thirst in the gardens. "Can't we just run, Megumi?"

"I would, if I could," he gazed at you with a steadfast resolve. "Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess, somehow."

This love is difficult. But it's real.

But so was your father. And his will. In the summer of your coming of age, it was decided that you were going to marry Zen'in Naoya.

Your love story with Megumi... would it end just like that?

"Please, don't go!" you begged. You could hardly believe this situation right now. What did he say? End things here—?

Megumi felt his heart clench. "It's been announced already. You are to marry him. We can... no longer do this."

"But!" you argued. "You s-said... you would find a way out of it somehow..."

Your eyes glazed over, and Megumi had to look away to keep his heart from breaking completely. "I'm sorry."

At the end of the day, he was still a mere son of the branch family and stood no chance against Naoya. If you were to become the bride of his cousin, even he had to respect that.

Your heart shattered into pieces. This day had been looming on the horizon, and you'd been aware of it for some time. Your father didn't exactly conceal his greed with how he insisted on your marriage to Naoya to secure your position as the clan's main wife, instead of Megumi.

Yet it still hurt. You didn’t expect your happiness to he this fleeting, and you were disappointed that Megumi didn’t exactly fight his way through this.

“It’s… for your own good,” he added, and grimaced when he saw how you started sobbing. “I don’t want to compromise your virtue. It'll get ugly fast if people think that we're having… dalliances. You deserve better—”

"Don't patronize me!" you yelled. "Don't t-try... to tell me how to feel!"

Frankly, you never cared about virtues or anything. Most of choices made in your life weren't yours, and if you could finally make a decision through jeopardizing your fickle reputation, then so be it.

"I love you too much to let that happen," Megumi said then, baring his own feelings, that he too, didn't want this any more than you did. "You know I would do anything for you."

"All there's left to do is run," you sniffled. "If you would do anything for me, you would run with me."

Just say yes, your little heart screamed. You stared at him through your wet lashes, desperately willing him to just forget all this nonsense about family, virtue, and just choose love—your love.

But he never did. That day, he decided to leave you. This love was indeed difficult, but you really thought it was real, and now you had never felt so alone.

Days went by longer after that. Now that it had been announced to the public, as per Naoya’s will, you would move into the Zen’in estate until the day of your marriage. You resented and barely knew him, and your gut feeling was proven true when he smirked before you, pulling you into one of the hidden compartments of this godforsaken place.

“Don’t think I didn’t know about what you and he were up to,” he spat viciously. “You should’ve already known that you are always meant to be my wife—and what did you do? You’re putting me to shame as you and that lesser bastard run around.”

“He would always be better than you,” you bitterly scoffed.

“Get it through your head already, you’re to become my wife, and that’s final.”

“You can’t do anything if I don’t want to anyway. Beware of upcoming scandals in the future.”

And with that, came the first day of your misery. Naoya locked you up in that desolate place.

You were missing.

Megumi had noticed it for quite a while. Even if you were no longer his, his heart still longed for yours, and ultimately he wanted to make sure if you were okay. You moving in into his home should increase the chances of him seeing you, and yet, it was as if you had disappeared into the thin air.

It was an understatement to say that he was just worried. He knew Naoya wasn’t exactly the kindest in this household, but he really expected him to at least treat you right.

He still remembered how the tears fell from your beautiful eyes, telling him not to go. Megumi was as heartbroken as you, if not more. He had the choice when you asked him to run, yet he willingly stopped and did what he believed to be the right thing.

Was this still the right thing though?

As the maids hurried past, yelling something that vaguely sounded like your name and the phrase "starving herself!", Megumi felt his blood run cold. Without hesitation, he forcefully grabbed one of them, demanding answers.

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

The maid merely cowered with worry and fear. “Master Naoya… specifically instructed us not to let the miss pass freely…”

Megumi didn’t quite recall what he did, but he couldn't forget the frantic pounding of his heart as he rushed through the gardens to find you in the small room tucked away in the farthest corner of the vast compound, near the servants' dormitory. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he opened it.

You abruptly spun around to face the commotion, thinking that it may be your shitty fiancé, utterly bewildered.

Megumi scrutinized you closely, and gradually, he could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.

You were pale, your hair was a disheveled mess, but what truly infuriated him was the sight of your broken nails and the dried blood. All he could think of was that you probably tried to claw your way out of this place.

"Megumi?" your voice sounded too hoarse to his liking. You looked at him as if you couldn't believe he was real. His heart shattered.

He shouldn't have left you. He should've run with you. You shouldn't have to be alone and hurt like this.

"Save me," you croaked with small voice, eyes brimming with unshed tears and fear.

That did it. When he heard the approaching rapid footsteps, he made the swiftest, life-changing decision of his life.

He caught a hold of your arm, and pinned you to the wall. And when the entirety of the household arrived in your doorstep, Naoya included, he made it a show as if the two of you were having the most scandalous tryst of the town.

"This ends here," he grunted, casting a glare at his rotten cousin. "I'm marrying her."

"I got tired of waiting, you know," you giggled, peering at your beloved's sullen face. "My faith faded at one point."

Megumi hummed, clasping his hand in yours. "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes, staring at the clear waters under the cruise. "I kept waiting, but you never came... and when you did, you caused us to make the headlines."

Your wedding to Megumi was both the grand event and scandal of the year. The sudden change of groom on such short notice triggered disapproving glances from most of the people you knew in this infuriating town, but frankly, you didn't care.

"I thought you wouldn't fight for me at all,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

"I've always believed that if it would make you happy in the end, I would be fine with it," Megumi said, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as the wind swept by.

"And then? What made you finally let go of that righteous, self-sacrificing thoughts?"

The softest smile was graced his lips. "I love you, and that's all I really know."

You didn't give a damn about what anyone else had to say because, in this moment—as you sailed on your honeymoon cruise, and throughout this love story, from your childhood and forevermore, he is the prince, and you are his princess.

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #HSHAHA i don’t know anymore #i legit repost it THREE times so it’ll show up in the tags #this is so cheesy overall aHSHSHS

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zhongrin · 2 years

Text

— "a forest ranger’s guide on how to read a 🦊 fennec fox’s mood" by [name]

◇ characters ◇ tighnari

◇ tags ◇ pure fluff

◇ a/n ◇ who gave him the right to be this cute and sassy i wanted to make an actual journal entry with like cute stickers and pictures and stuff but i have 0 artistic talent so yeah that's not happening

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research??)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis)

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒��𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!!

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

“master, if we don't go soon- oh! i-i’m sorry,” collei squeaks when her violet eyes find your sleeping form hunched over on your desk, which is covered in countless papers, your arms acting as your pillow and your lips slightly open.

undoubtedly, you had been working on something and fallen asleep somewhen last night. as your soft snore fills the now-silent room, her teacher, who had been standing beside you right by your desk and motioned her to quieten down, smiles and closes the book in his hand with a soft thump.

“i’ll be there in ten minutes,” tighnari says, his tone gentle and the young ranger knows whenever her teacher takes that tone, it must concern you.

she nods wordlessly and leaves the two of you, giggling into her palms as a cloud of pink blush dust her cheeks.

back in your shared room, the fox hybrid sighs when his eyes fixes on the uncomfortable position you’re in. his arms, trained from wielding his signature bow and climbing sumeru’s terrain, wrap carefully around you, taking care to not jostle you too much as he moves your peacefully snoozing form over to your bed. after he safely tucks you in, he glances towards the desk, or more specifically, the journal that had taken his interest.

…. well, he still has at least five minutes to spare.

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research?? 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾-𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽??), [𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾]

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations + "𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗒𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾" + "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗅.1 - 𝗏𝗈𝗅.47") (𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗒), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾.

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!! 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 (𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗍)

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒.

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #rin writes

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buckys-little-belle · 2 months

Note

Hi!! I love your story’s and am always looking for little and daddy Bucky story’s!! I was wondering if you could do insecure reader who’s bigger. She has bigger thighs a bigger tummy and face. Could you do reader is scared to sit on buckys lap or for him to pick her up and carry her around the house. She’s too scared she’s heavy and will crush him and his legs. or that he will drop her because she’s too big. She also never cuddles and sleeps with him in his room always sleeping in her room after he puts her to bed because she’s scared about her breathing or how she sleeps.

Bucky gets her to tell him why and then comfort. Just fluff fluff fluff. If your not comfortable writing this I totally understand!!! If you do could you ad paci use? Thank you!!! Sorry for the rambling…

Strongest Man Alive

Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Notes - This is not my best work, and has been in my drafts for MONTHS, it's something cute, and a little angsty at the beginning, but it does get super fluffy at the end. It's a little bit different than my usual writting style, so I apologize for that, but I do hope you like it and if not I'm so sorry! I hope I did this ask justice, and I hope everyone is having a good week!!! <3

Warnings - Talks of reader being self conscious for being 'bigger', kept very vague as she uses the words "heavy" and "squishy" to describe her body type instead of more concrete descriptions, the use of a pacifier is very brief as it's something I'm not used to writing, though I would be willing to continue, mentions of reader eating food "snacks" and "sandwich" though never specified, FLUFF at the end, but there is a moment of angst, I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS A COHEARANT STORY, it's from the drafts and I gave it a once over and I think it's 'good enough' so I apologize if it's terrible <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n often spent their time at the Avengers tower sitting, standing, lingering around Bucky Barnes. It wasn't on purpose, the man just seemed to be the other half of some magnet imbedded deep in Y/n's heart. He just had some ability to pull her towards him.

Maybe it was the way he cut her sandwiches into perfect triangles, or the way his hand always found hers when she got scared. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be reserved around anyone but her that made her feel so connected to him.

He never sulked but always seemed to walk around with a frown stuck on his face, only ever changing it to a smile when she walked by his office or stopped by his room.

As much as Y/n felt like she was pulled to him, Bucky felt it multiplied by 100. His hands always aching to hold hers, his chest always feeling heavy when he began to think about her needing something and him not being around to help her.

The whole tower knew about Y/n's regression. Wanda and Peter often joined in, hanging out in little space and colouring in books Tony had provided, watching whatever new animated movie had just come out and sleeping over in makeshift tents in the living room.

Often other Avengers would help supervise activities, Steve loved playing action fighters in the common areas, Nat loved cuddle puddle on the couch, and Thor was always ready for a park day. Bucky on the other hand liked to stay in the shadows, buying stickers for the group of littles, making them lunch and dropping it off.

Bucky only stuck around if Y/n asked him to hang out with her. "Bucky can you hold my hand?" She had asked him when at the park, he of course grabbed her hand and helped her up the jungle gym.

"Bucky can you open this please?" She had whispered during a movie, her baggie full of snacks too difficult to manage on her own. He opened the baggie and held it in his own grasp, handing her a piece of candy anytime she had finished the previous one.

"Bucky will you colour with me?" She had yelled her ask one day when he was passing by the kitchen, Y/n sat at the island with markers scattered across the marble. He silently sat down and diligently coloured the page she had given him, helping her chase markers that had fallen.

He knew she was comfortable asking for what she wanted, and he knew she wasn't afraid of him ... so, it made his chest tighten every time she asked him to grab something from the top shelf instead of asking to be lifted like Wanda and Peter often asked.

He also felt off every time a little would come running out of their room after a nightmare, rushing into someone's room for a cuddle, yet Y/n's door never opened and neither did his.

Bucky was sure it was his fault she didn't seek him out for cuddles, he thought he had done something wrong when she never asked for a hug. Was it his arm? Was she scared he would turn on her? He couldn't figure it out.

That is until he realised she never asked anyone for a cuddle, or a hug. Nat, Wanda, and Peter would be all comfy on the couch and Y/n would be sat on the chair, a small frown on her face yet she never tried to find a spot next to her friends. And when she scraped her knee on the playground she declined Thor's offer of a "healing" hug.

"Y/n?" His voice was quiet but direct as he called out into the playroom, Y/n sat on the softly coloured rug, her stuffed animals scattered about.

"Hi Bucky!" She smiled, her pacifier tumbling out of her mouth and onto the ground.

"Hi." He sat down across from her, quickly pocketing the fallen pacifier before sought out the, now, dirty thing. "What are you playing?" His hands brushed a stuffed teddy, Y/n tilting her head in confusion as she looked around her.

"'m just dressen 'm up." She smiled at him, grabbing a stuffed unicorn and brushing it's fur back into place, shuffling closer to Bucky as she gathered a few other stuffed animals.

The moment her knees hit his she shifted back, so Bucky shifted his towards her again. Like clockwork she moved and left a small gap between them. "Y/n?"

"Mhm." She looked back at him, her smile one he could easily read through.

"Am I scary?" He asked calmly, not once loosing eye contact as she shook her head 'no'. "Do I smell?" He asked, this time with a laugh.

"No!" She giggled.

"Then why do you run every time I touch you." Instead of answering she bowed her head, hands running over the stuffed animal anxiously. "Why don't you hug Wanda or Peter?" He was worried that all the questions would make her want to run, but as she huffed and leaned into his space slightly he continued. "I know Thor was pretty sad when you declined his hug the other day." That one wasn't a lie, the man had gone on a rant about how he thought he had done something wrong, how he was sure Y/n hated him.

"I jus', I don' want them t' be mad." She admitted, huffing at the end of her sentence. "'m jus', 'm heavy, an' squishy. Wanda and Pete aren't heavy an' squishy." She admitted, eyes locked on the wall, the stuffed unicorn held a little closer to her body.

"What do you mean Baby?" Bucky asked, confused as to what she was alluding to.

"It's harder t' pick me up." She finally looked back at him, tears beginning to gather along her waterline. "And cuddling wif me wouldn' be th' same." She shrugged, trying to play it off like she wasn't bothered by her own words.

The tightness in Bucky's chest didn't ease up with his answer, his worry only growing. He had hoped it was an easy thing to fix, yet knowing Y/n didn't hug her friends, or him, because she felt too big made him hurt. "Baby," He began, not giving Y/n a second to doubt him, he picked her up and sat her in his lap. "you aren't 'too heavy' to pick up." He hated how quickly she curled into his chest, how clear it was that she was missing human connection. "I'm the strongest man alive, and you saying that you're too heavy is going to bruise my ego a bit, Baby." They both laughed, a few of Y/n's tears hitting the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

"I thought Steve was th' strongest man alive?"

"I let him win when we arm wrestle." Bucky admitted, causing Y/n to break out into a fit of giggles.

"'m gonna tell him!" She stood up, bolting for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Bucky ran after her, lifting her off her feet in the middle of the hallway, Y/n pausing with a gasp, bracing for the two of them to fall, yet laughing along with Bucky as jostled her around, threatening to take her new colouring page off the fridge if she told anyone his secret.

After a pinky promise and some juice Y/n began to trust Bucky a little bit more. She let him pick her up at the playground, and gave him a hug before bed every night. She still worried her hugs were 'bad', that maybe no one would want to hug her because she wasn't 'little' but Bucky never once complained, instead asking for hugs in the morning too.

It took her a while to truly trust that Bucky wasn't lying when he said his back didn't hurt after picking her up, but eventually she became comfortable enough to run and jump into his arms, something she had always dreamed of doing.

It wasn't until a month later that Bucky woke up at 4 am to the sound of Y/n's hurried footsteps rushing to his door. Light creeping in from the opened door she didn't close as she ran to his bed. The sound of soft cries and whispers of "Nightmare" filling the usually quiet space.

Instead of letting her think too much about how she 'should' be cuddling, Bucky just scooped her up and tucked her into his bed, letting her know he'd protect her, and her stuffed animal. He liked having her in his room, it made him feel at ease knowing she was close.

After a few months of staying in Bucky's room, Y/n began to get out of her shell a bit more, hugging Wanda and Peter, and eventually accepting Thor's 'healing' hugs. She finally joined in during the weekly cuddle puddle, laughing along side Nat and her friends as they all got cozy on the couch. And for the first time ever she let someone else, the second strongest man alive, Steve Rogers pick her up. A pride filled movement the man would never forget.

Even though it took her a little longer than everyone else to be comfortable hugging and snuggling, she was happy to finally be apart of the group in ways she wasn't before. Bucky, the man who still often stayed in the shadows, helping from a distance, couldn't help but feel a little lighter every time he saw his girl get over her worries, knowing if anything got to be 'too much' she'd come running to him.

#buckys little belle #anon #age regression #little!reader #age regression fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky

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gyuwoncheol · 3 months

Text

Man On A Mission

Pair: Joshua x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, very slight angst

Summary: Plans are made and the surprise is all set, but what happens when you’re suddenly refusing to be Joshua’s Valentine’s date? Will your boyfriend get your sweet yes in time for the big day or will he have to force it out of you? Good thing this sexy gentleman has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Warning: slight angst if you squint, lots of playful teasing, Shua and oc being menaces to each other, making out, suggestive content.

WC: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This is my piece for @svthub Cupid For You Collab - Valentine’s Gift Exchange. This is very much dedicated for my Valentine @shuadotcom 🩷 I’m so sorry this is late 😭 I would’ve really wanted to publish this on the 13th but your valentine has been very sickly these past few days. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing the antics I wrote for you and your beloved Joshua. I love you so much!!! To the moon and back 😉 The biggest thanks as well to my dearest @wongyuseokie for being so patient with me and helping me out with all my questions AND for organizing this event! Ily 😘

Svthub’s Cupid For You Collab Masterlist

“You can’t be serious right now,” you frown in shock.

“SURPRISE!” Your boyfriend exclaims.

You turn around fully to face him, “babe… I thought we agreed on no surprises? And no extravagant gifts?”

A cheesy grin flashes on Joshua’s face but when he notices how serious you actually are, his once excited expression starts to fall.

You really should’ve known that when you both agreed on a simple staycation for Valentine’s, your CEO boyfriend would do anything but. However, when he mentioned to you about how busy he would be this week trying to close a merger deal, you thought perhaps simple would be possible. So when he asked you to join him for a lunch with business partners in a fancy hotel the day before Valentine’s, you didn’t actually think it was all a trap to just get you both checked in in the presidential suite for an overnight stay.

Joshua observes you a bit more before answering, suddenly feeling embarrassed and scared, “do you not… like it? I mean, I can still cancel the booking and then we can go do—“

“Baby, no,” you interrupt, “it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… not what we agreed on.”

“Well you said you wanted a staycation, right?” Isn’t this what that is? A nice place just less than an hour away from the city, perfect view, nice amenities, a good looking boyfriend. But I mean, if you’re not into it, I might still be able to get us those Bali tickets I canceled last week.”

“You what?!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hong?” The small voice of the hotel receptionist calls you both and Joshua is thanking the heavens you were given no time to further interrogate him.

“It’s Miss y/l/n,” you immediately correct her and Joshua frowns at how quick you were to dissociate from him, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he ponders how his extravagant surprise might have really upset you.

“Oh, my apologies miss y/l/n. Anyway, I just wanted to inform you that your suite is ready. Here are your room keys and you will be assisted to your room.” You kindly thank the receptionist and make your way through the hotel lobby.

The elevator ride up to the top was silent and awkward. Joshua consistently bounced on the balls of his feet from nerves. However, when the doors to your suite open, your jaw drops and your feet automatically lead you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that boast a 180 degree view of the city. You didn’t even notice the bell man wishing you both a pleasant stay or hear your boyfriend carefully approach you. You could see the concrete jungle of the business district yet so beautifully backdropped by the sprawling mountains in the distance. You never thought much of your city, it wasn’t exactly a tourist destination in itself, but now that you’re looking at it from hundreds of feet above, you realise it has a charm of its own.

“I take it you want to stay?” Joshua asks as he observes the glimmer in your eyes.

You finally peel your gaze from the view and turn to your boyfriend who’s carrying an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he grabs your hands and sandwiches them between his, “I just thought this would be nice and I know you didn’t want to do anything big but I also know you like surprises and I just really wanted to give you the perfect Valentine’s I could pla–“

“Who said I’d be your Valentine’s?”

At that very moment, all color drains from your boyfriend’s face. His mouth is agape, eyebrows raised and eyes are round as ever. Complete and utter shock wash over him and then you see pain, his eyes show early signs of wetness and he starts to blink hard and that’s when you burst out in laughter.

“I’M KIDDING!” You laugh loudly, hands cupping his face and you just hear him take a deep breath.

“Babyyyy,” he whines and you’re completely melting at the pout etched on his face.

“Aww, babe,” you peck his lips before embracing him tightly. He takes a few more seconds wrapped in your arms, trying to let his heartbeat stabilize from the prank you just pulled. “I was just kidding. I think.”

“You think?” He pulls back and catches the mischievous smile on your face. “What does that mean?”

“Hmm… well for starters, you just assumed, you didn’t even ask me, and then–“

“Okay so will you be my Valentine?” Your boyfriend rushes out and if you just weren’t feeling playful, it would be a definite yes right then and there.

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought we’d spend the holiday, you know. I thought we’d only meet with Mr. Min today.”

“Well, I had to find a way to get you to come here with me.”

“Yeah, but what happened to no surprises, Josh? Didn’t we agree on a simple Valentine’s, just a staycation? No fancy gifts and just our favorite food?”

“If you think about it, we’re still in the city, so it’s still a staycation. And we can still have our favorite food!”

“And yet… what was that I heard awhile ago? You had plans to take me to Bali? Hmm??”

“Okay, fine…” your boyfriend slumps in defeat, “but that was honestly booked before we even agreed on anything. And then I canceled when you said you didn’t want anything too extravagant. C’mon baby,” Joshua prods, his arms wrapping around your waist, “I’m still somewhat following the agreement. I just… I really want to make this special for us. Please let me?”

“Okay, I’ll let you,” you smile at the sincerity of your most loving boyfriend. You truly appreciate the effort he’s putting into this, but just like the dynamic of your relationship, what’s a romantic holiday without a little fun? “But I’m still not saying yes to being your Valentine… not yet.”

He sees the wink you just gave him as you walk away and he rolls his eyes. “So that’s how you wanna play it, huh?”

You dramatically turn around before letting yourself fall on the large couch by the living room, “oh whatever could you mean, my love?”

Sometimes, Joshua just hates how you may just be as mischievous as he is, if not more. But he also adores your playful side, especially when it makes him think outside of the box. When he sits beside you on the couch, he’s immediately pulling you onto his lap, hands roaming up and down from your waist to your thighs. “I’ll get you to say yes,” he answers confidently.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm… before midnight.”

“A deadline, I like that,” you nod in approval, “let the games begin, babe.”

Joshua scoffs, “they already have.” A searing kiss is delivered to you that you almost fall over if your boyfriend hadn’t had his muscular arms supporting your back. When you’re finally responding back, Joshua is surprisingly the first to groan, but could you blame him? Your lips were full and soft and it didn’t help at all that your hips have decided to grind against his crotch. He’s sucking on your bottom lip and when they part to grant him entrance, the CEO wastes no time in exploring with his tongue. He hears you moan once, twice, and then he’s pulling your pelvis down as he bucks his hips to meet yours.

“Will you be my Valentine?” He asks in a muffled rush while trailing down your neck, hoping you’d be caught off guard. But Joshua should’ve known, you took your games just as seriously as he did.

“Not so fast, baby.” You giggle, pushing him back against the couch. “You’re not gonna get me in one try.”

There’s a genuine laughter shared between the both of you but when you feel Joshua’s hand begin to pull down the strap of your blouse, you gasp in shock, scaring the man beneath you, “what is it?”

“Babe! I don’t have clothes!”

“Even better,” he smirks.

“No!” You swat his hand away when he attempts another kiss. “I mean, we’re staying the night, right? I didn’t pack anything. Oh my god! I don’t even have my skincare!”

“Okay, calm down,” he rubs your arms, “I have it under control. I’ve packed for you, yeah? Clothes, skincare, even some accessories. Just… except maybe underwear.”

“Babe!”

“What? You won’t really need it anyway.”

“Joshua!” You scold louder this time.

“I’M KIDDING!” He laughs like a maniac, “I brought you… a few.”

To be very fair with your boyfriend, he stayed true to his promise of a staycation. While the hotel you were at had a luxury shopping center directly below it, he knew you just wanted to laze around in the comfort of your suite. Room service was ordered for your lunch, you both watched your favorite movie on the large built-in flat screen on the wall and now, you’re sighing happily sprawled out on the bed wrapped in the hotel’s fluffy bathrobe.

“Someone’s happy,” Joshua notes, settling beside you.

“Are you kidding me? That was the best massage I’ve ever had in my life!” If you were being honest, your whole body felt like jelly, in a good way, it’s as if you could still feel the masseuse’s skillful hands kneading away the knots on your lower back. “I think I might just marry her.”

“Wow, okay???” Your boyfriend takes offense.

“If she asked me to be her Valentine, it’s a yes,” you stick your tongue out at him and before you know it, you’re smothered in tickles from your boyfriend.

“What did you just say?!” He challenges and you want to trigger him more but you’re simply reduced to a fit of squirming giggles underneath his muscular body.

“S-s-sttooooppp!”

Your wrists are conveniently pinned down above your head as you try to squirm away, your body encased between his legs, and a pair of scrunched up brows and pursed lips are staring you down, “Not until you say yes to being my Valentine!”

“No!” You deny him, “the more you tickle me, the more I’ll say no.”

This actually catches his attention and he lets go of you. “Wow, I didn’t think that would work.”

“I’m just nice,” he proudly grins, “and that’s why I’d make the perfect Valentine’s date.”

“Mhmm, probably. You are a gentleman, after all.”

Joshua wiggles his finger at you disapprovingly, “I believe the exact term you’re looking for is a sexy gentleman.”

You both share a laugh at the inside joke that began a few years back in his workplace and has simply stuck until now. “Speaking of,” his tone turns a bit more serious, “I know you just wanna be lazy in bed all day but if it’s okay with you, will you let this sexy gentleman take you to dinner tonight? It’s just going to be in the restaurant downstairs and I made sure to ask the staff to place us where it’s more quiet and secluded.” Big doe eyes stared at you and while you did want to tease Joshua a little more, the sincere look on his face proved too difficult to even playfully deny.

“Okay, I’ll go, but I’m still not your Valentine date. There’s still a few more hours to woo me, Joshua Hong.”

He scoffs and then smiles, leaving a kiss on your cheek before hopping out of bed, “I’ll get that yes before midnight.” It’s cool and confident, and somehow, you’re beginning to lose your resolve.

“What is this?!” you gasp as you open the small hand carry luggage that your boyfriend had packed for you. It was the first time you had gone through it, completely trusting him when he said he had brought all your essentials. You also didn’t feel the need to go through the bag earlier as you had no plans but to live in the fluffy robe the hotel provided.

“What?” Joshua snickers.

You squint your eyes at him, knowing his agenda a little too well. “This,” you mutter coldly, raising up the lingerie with your hands. It was skimpy and it was lacey, and most of all, it was your boyfriend’s favorite. He tries to act innocent but a cheesy grin breaks out on his face anyway and you just roll your eyes at his antics. However, rummaging through the rest of the bag for underwear that had more coverage proved to be unsuccessful. “Just three pairs of lingerie? Nothing else. Really?”

“Hey, no! I packed four. Four pairs of lingerie. All of which are my favorite,” a boyish grin on his face.

“You couldn’t even bring me at least one comfy pair of panties for sleeping?” You pout.

“Not when we’ll be sleeping naked, no. But your nightgown is there,” your boyfriend earns another roll of your eyes and now he’s really giggling with mischief. “C’mon babe, don’t pout. Any of those four will fit perfectly with…” he runs to the closet and then quickly comes back with a huge white box in his hands that had a big black ribbon tied around it.

“Babe,” you gasp silently when you manage to open the box and pick up the beautiful dress that was folded neatly inside. It came in your favorite color and in a style that complimented your curves well. “This is too much,” you say just above a whisper, “I thought no more gifts?”

“Well, this isn’t really a gift. It’s more like… hmmmm…” your boyfriend purses his lips, “giving you something to wear for dinner. I can’t have you walking in the restaurant in just your lingerie! That’s only for my eyes to see!”

You should’ve been annoyed really, he was coming up with the most mischievous excuses to break the agreement you both made, but the way Joshua was pouting and huffing towards the end of his sentence had you smiling like a love struck teenager.

“I love you so much,” you smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, planting a kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

And you both did, you really loved each other so much. Mischief and jokes were common between you and Joshua; he was equally playful as you are, but no matter how much you teased each other, every single ‘I love you’ that came out of your mouths was always said meaningfully.

“Baby?” your boyfriend asks in the middle of your scrumptious dinner, “do you think Valentine’s is overrated?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the question, especially since the topic before this was how Joshua managed to win the chubby bunny contest during your friend group’s Christmas dinner.

“Uhmm.. “

When you realize he looked dead serious about his query, you give it some thought before answering him, “I see why it could be. It is quite a capitalistic holiday and well, Saint Valentine did die a gruesome death on this day, but I do think that if your Valentine is the right person, it doesn’t really matter if it’s overrated or not.”

Josh is listening intently to your words, his thumb slowly rubbing the back of your hand, “So… you don’t think all my surprises today are overrated, right?” There’s a curious look behind his eyes and your heart physically squeezes at the sight of it.

“Oh, love…” you sigh and scoot your chair right by his side, cupping his cheek and giving him a kiss that you hoped would wipe his worries once and for all, “You could’ve surprised me with a trip to the moon and I would still hop on that spaceship with you volunta–”

Joshua gasps loudly, “Now, how did you know that’s where we’re going tomo–”

“Babe!” you laugh and shove him lightly, “Even if you weren’t kidding, I’d go with you. I told you, even the most possibly overrated thing you could think of will not be overrated as long as it’s with you.”

“Ohhh, so I am your Valentine tomorrow, huh?” The proudest, most obnoxious smirk breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, his chin is held up high and one brow raised approvingly. It takes a few seconds for you but when you realize what he’s done— falling perfectly into his trap— your jaw simply hangs low.

Your boyfriend is quick to tuck his hand below your chin, “close your mouth babe, else a bug might fly in.”

You scoff at the remark but honestly, Joshua isn’t able to hear you amidst his cackling, and you absolutely abhor how he’s gotten you to slip so easily.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” the laugh is evil and confident, and you want to punch his stupid annoying grin away, “you loooooove me, quite literally to the moon AND back.”

Damn him, you thought, because he’s right, you love him, to the moon and back.

As if he wasn’t proud enough, your boyfriend seals your defeat by grabbing your neck to kiss you fervently only to then raise his fist in victory, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, AND a Valentine’s date for Joshua Hong!”

#svthub #svthub.collab #Cupid For You #Valentine’s Exchange #svt #seventeen #joshua fic #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #svt fic #svt fluff #svt x reader #paula writes ✨#shuadotcom #Man On A Mission

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blondedmuse · 2 years

Text

OUT OF THE WOODS

finnick odair x reader

synopsis. ꩜ you and finnick get separated during the quarter-quell, but you always manage to find your way back to each other.

author's note. ∿ i've wanted to write for finnick for like ever so. also angst and fluff

word count. ⨾ 1.9k

The sky was a grim obsidian, your muscles were aching, and your eyelids were listless, ready to close for good at any given moment. You, Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta had been trekking the jungle terrain of the arena for hours and it proved itself to be nothing less than grueling. You'd been on edge ever since the moment you stepped on the podium and even more once the countdown had ended and the game had begun. It hadn't helped your fear when Peeta had almost died, twice, before nightfall—it was a wonder he was still alive.

Now, hours later, you're still on edge and waiting for what the game makers were ready to throw at you. The group had just been gifted a spile for water and settled somewhere to sleep for the night, but you were still wide awake. Even though the water had pacified your thirst, nothing could pacify your fear.

"I think you should get some rest," Finnick said, coming up from behind and sitting on a rock next to you. You only shook your head at his suggestion and you saw his expression soften. It wasn’t easy, but he could read you like a book. It didn’t have to slap him in the face to know you were more than exhausted. You were afraid, angry, but above all else you were sad.

Finnick hated seeing you like this, especially because being your mentor, he knew the effect your first game had on you—and it felt like he was watching it happen all over again.

"Y/N."

"Finnick," You replied.

"Rest," He said seriously, but his voice was gentle. You looked into his eyes and they were begging for you to give into his request.

"Fine," You sighed. "Just...be alert, please."

He nodded his head with a sympathetic smile. "Always."

You got up from the rock and Finnick's sweet, saccharine smile lingered on his lips while you laid yourself down on a large leaf to sleep on, covering the ground.

You kept yourself close to the group, but just distanced enough where you could sleep undisturbed. It didn't take much for you to drift off, despite the pounding sound throughout the arena. You acknowledged it and heard Katniss mumble something about twelve, but after that your mind went blank, falling asleep.

Only an hour or two later were you woken up a second time by the sounds of screams—Katniss' screams. Your body jolted awake and the next thing you know you were on your feet and grabbing your harpoon, running from the poisonous fog swiftly heading your way.

The cloud had slithered its way between you and the rest of the group, who you were now losing sight of. You heard Finnick call your name and you were about to call out back to him, but you were cut off by your own scream caused by searing pain.

Finnick heard your cries and urgently called your name again but Katniss continued to usher him and Peeta in the other direction before they too could be consumed by the cloud.

The fog had only reached the heel of your foot and yet the burn was almost unbearable. It sent you stumbling forward, rolling on the ground, landing by a small creek. It didn't take much for the fog to catch up to you, consuming the lower half of your body. The agony kicked your senses into high gear and you knew you had to keep moving. You did what you could, dragging yourself towards the stream.

When your skin touched the water it was almost as if you were going up in flames. The pain heightened tenfold and all you could do was close your eyes and scream in anguish. But it only lasted for so long until you noticed its disappearance.

Once your eyes flickered open you saw the water clearing your wounds and an invisible forcefield that redirected the cloud around you. You were still alive. You were still in the game. The moment the cannon went off you could only pray that Finnick and the others were too.

Finnick's heart sank. "That couldn't have been her," He mumbled, his voice wavering and Peeta looked at him nervously.

"I mean I don't know." He shrugged. "We saw her and then we didn't."

"It could've been another tribute," Finnick reasoned while the sharp pain in his throat anticipated the welling of tears in his eyes. He really does believe the cannon signaled the death of another tribute, that you wouldn't give up so easily—not without a fight. But he also didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, because then he wouldn't know whether or not he'd be able to keep going.

"It had to be a coincide-" Finnick started again, only to be cut off by Katniss.

"Finnick, grab your trident slowly," She said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes shifting between Finnick and the monkey mutation stalking behind him.

You'd been laying in the creek for about what you thought was around a little less than an hour, resting your body and catching your breath. It was pure luck a tribute hadn't stumbled over you and you weren't going to let it happen now.

You hauled yourself up from the ground, grabbed your harpoon, and continued moving through the arena. If something hadn't killed you while you were motionless on the ground, then the game makers were going to send something your way to try and make sure you wouldn't be alive for much longer. And they did.

Seconds after you grabbed your harpoon, you noticed an animal in the distance blocking your way to the beach—and it was heading your way. You started traveling parallel to the shore, running as fast as you could but you only got so far until your feet came to a halt, another one in your way. You could see now that it wasn't just an animal but a monkey. A big, monstrous, mutated, monkey.

You were quick to stab it right through the heart, its body collapsing to the ground. However, that was only the first of many. The monkeys began appearing left and right, and while it was easy, you could only kill so many before they would start to fight back. One clawed at your side and you felt your flesh split open, your side warming with the blood of an open wound. You needed to run.

Your means of escape to the beach were gone so you kept moving parallel to shore once you cleared a way for yourself. While running you tried to recall what exactly Katniss said. "I counted 12...like midnight?"

It didn't take you long before you put the pieces together. The arena was like a clock, or at least followed a measured unit of time. You remembered the sound of loud thuds, pangs, similar to a clock when the hour hand strikes twelve. The fog was about an hour and you had been lying on the ground for maybe forty-five minutes after that. All you were sure of was that if you were right, this sudden wave of monkeys couldn't last for much longer.

With a hand on your wound, you ran until your legs grew tired, and then you ran some more. They eventually stopped chasing after you and stopped appearing altogether. You'd admit it was strange, but it didn't matter now that they were gone. Still, you kept running. You kept running because you heard a voice. Finnick's voice.

"Katniss!" Finnick yelled, chasing after the frantic girl on fire. "Katniss?"

She ran steadfast into the jungle, chasing the voice of her sister, Prim. She repeated her name over and over again as if she would be able to find her in the arena, but all she saw were squawking birds. She furrowed her brows. Jabberjays.

"Katniss, are you okay?" Finnick asked, finally catching up to her.

"Yeah, I just...thought I heard my sister," she explained and Finnick nodded, slightly distracted.

"Do you hear that?" He asked. "It sounds like...Y/N?"

Katniss' eyes widened and Finnick was already on the move, sprinting towards what he thought was your voice.

"Finnick! No! They're just-"

Jabberjays.

You hadn't heard Finnick's voice at all, only the mocking voice of mutated birds. Birds that were swarming you overhead, garbling your name in his voice and mimicking his cries. The sound of his pained voice was tormenting on its own, but it was even worse when the birds started swooping towards you.

You tried to run but you hit an invisible forcefield, not to your convenience this time. You didn't know what to do so you covered your ears and dropped to the jungle floor. You could still hear his cries, cutting deep into your heart. And you could only wait until the torture was over.

Eventually, enough time had passed and the harrowing voices of the birds subsided. Despite your body's objection, you got up from the ground and stood on your feet. You were depleted of any energy and emotion, and with every cannon that went of you grew a little sicker at the fact that it might've been Finnick. Still, you were determined to reach the beach. If you hadn't found your allies by then, you'd at least hope to catch some fish.

You trudged your way through the shrubs and trees of the terrain, holding your wound tighter as the pain became more prevalent. Regardless, you were still on edge. You had to be. Every rustle, every noise made you ask yourself, Am I in the clear? The answer never unwavered as no until you locked eyes with the man you'd been longing to find. He's with Katniss, Peeta, and a few other tributes you're friendly with, but they couldn't have mattered less at the moment.

"Y/N," Finnick rasped and rushed towards you, your bodies crashing into one another as he pulled you into his embrace.

"Thank god you're alive," He whispered while his tears soaked your shoulder and relief coasted through you like a wave crashing into the shore. You may not've been safe, but he made the monsters feel like trees.

"I'm okay," You murmured and he hugged you harder, his arms enveloping your waist.

"Didn't think I'd die on you, did you?" You joked as he pulled his head back for a moment admiring the face of his lover in front of him. It was as if he was trying to memorize you by detail, every scar, every beauty mark, and the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled at him because the fear of losing you at any given moment had become a reality. And that fear increased once he felt your blood on his hands.

He furrowed his brows. "You're bleeding."

"I know."

"Can I?" He asked and you nodded, knowing exactly what his intentions were. He ripped off one of your sleeves, tying it around your waist and you winced quietly, but of course, he heard it.

"I know," He whispered, consoling you as he pulled the sleeve tight. He wiped the grimace off your face with a kiss, one that carried a volume of passion that transcended the work of the greatest poets combined.

"Never do that again," He mumbled and his tone was lighthearted but you know he meant it.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He smiled. "Now let's get out of the woods."

#finnick odair #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #the hunger games #catching fire #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 6 months

Text

A promise kept

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Idiots to lovers

Rated: G

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint

CW: none

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image and I came up with this while bouncing ideas for another drabble and fell instantly in love with the idea. Be sure to also check out the precious art they made!!!

The bars of the jungle gym creak but Steve doesn’t lift his face from his hunched knees.

“Hey, big boy, don't cry.”

“‘m not crying. Go away!”

This is ridiculous. He's almost eight, and eight-year-old boys don't cry. Not even if their only friend in the whole world just told them they're moving away to live with their uncle.

They don't even know each other’s names. Names don't matter when you're eight and you're both at the park and looking for someone to play with.

So Steve is big boy.

And his friend … well, Steve mostly calls him his dragon.

It's because of this game they have. Steve is a king and the other boy his dragon and the jungle gym their castle, and every day, they have a new adventure.

Except now, there won't be any more adventures.

“Oh? But how am I supposed to give you this?”

Steve lifts his head, goes a bit cross-eyed at the flower that's hovering right in front of his face.

“What would I want with that?” he snaps. “Flowers are for girls.”

His dragon chuckles as he joins him on his perch. The playground stretches out under them. Their kingdom.

“But this isn't just any flower. It's magical.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Magical?”

“Yup!” His friend's face breaks into a grin, two teeth short. “As long as you keep it, I'll always make my way back to you. It may take a while, but I'll find you eventually.”

“Promise?” Steve murmurs. There's a lump in his throat and it comes out small and quiet.

“I promise.” The other boy winks and tugs the flower behind his ear. “That I'll find you, and that I'll always be your dragon. And now, my king … how about one final adventure?”

The colors of the jungle gym are faded with age. Like the pressed flower in its frame on his bedroom wall.

“Oh hey, Steve!”

Steve looks up from the book in his lap to find a familiar someone next to their picnic blanket.

“Eddie, hi!” He smiles, even as his stomach drops. “I … what are you doing here?”

“Steve?” Will asks, ogling Eddie's tattoos and wild hair with large eyes. “Who's this?”

“Oh, erm …” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair. “My friend Eddie. He just moved here. Eddie, this is Will and El, the kids I babysit?”

“Of course,” Eddie dips into a bow, which makes the twins giggle. “Steve has told me all about you.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” El asks. “Steve is reading the How to train your dragon books to us.”

“Fuck yeah, I love dragons!” Eddie cheers. Only he doesn’t sit on the blanket like a normal person - he perches himself on the steps of the jungle gym and hisses, pulling a silly face and mimicking claws with his hands. El whoops and claps while Will smiles shyly. Steve needs to swallow against the memories that threaten to crawl up his throat.

“Was it alright to invite Eddie?” El asks. They've finished reading for the day and she helped Steve get snow cones. “You said he's your friend, but you seem sad when you look at him.”

Steve sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, because how do you explain this to a seven-year-old?

How do you explain I only met him a few weeks ago but I really like him and it confuses me because it seems like I've known him forever because he reminds me so much of someone I used to know and I'm scared because it feels like I'm betraying that person even though I'm sure they've long forgotten about me?

Will is up on the jungle gym when they round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and talking animatedly with Eddie, who is gesturing up at him from the ground.

“El!” he calls out when he spots his sister. She smiles and clambers up to join him, handing over one of the dripping snow cones. “Eddie has the best ideas. He just told me about this game he used to play as a kid. Did you know the jungle gym could be a castle and we could be kings and dragons? What do you want to be? We could-”

“Steve?”

Someone touches his shoulder and he flinches back into his own body. Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and okay, that's probably because he just dropped their snow cones. They're forming rainbow-colored puddles in the grass.

“Stevie, c'mon, talk to me! You're freaking me out here!”

He snaps his head up.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie smiles. His eyes are large with worry. Large and brown and crinkling at the corners and so familiar and Steve's an idiot. “You just zoned out there, I thought-”

“It's you,” Steve mutters. His hands are shaking and his eyes are stinging and then the next thing he knows is that his arms are around Eddie’s neck and he's sobbing into his shoulder. “Holy fuck, it's really you! You're my dragon!”

“Wait, what?” Eddie pulls back, smile wide and incredulous. His fingers wipe away Steve’s tears, trace the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “You're- Shit, really? I knew you looked familiar, but I thought there was no way-”

“I was feeling so bad!” Steve blurts, chest heaving with what might be sobs or laughter, and who cares really, when he found his dragon again? “I was so scared to fall for you because-”

“Oh?” Eddie’s grin isn't missing any teeth, but it's still just as brilliant. “Are you now?”

“Huh?”

Eddie chuckles. “Falling for me?”

Steve feels himself flush, even as he gives a shaky nod. Eddie’s eyes are soft as he pulls him in.

“It's okay, big boy. You don't have to be afraid of anything while I'm around.”

“This is really weird,” El whispers from somewhere above them as their lips meet. “I don't think they understand how being friends works.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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fluffy-lovely-clouds · 3 months

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BREAKS INTO YOUR INBOX!!! I was looking at the speedstorm wiki on baloo's page and. I think the 2nd quote is very important for eremmm reasons JFJGKGK

FUDJFJDJDJXJDJ WHAT, NO BALOO SHUSH FJJDJSDJ

He's so silly, ill always love him <3

#I'm so normal #Y'all are the weird ones gosh/j #The Jungle book fluff #Thank you for informing me Ash I am forever in your dept ✨

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coff33notforme · 11 months

Text

German lessons

A/n: Sorry I’m in love with König, and I saw no one had done this idea so I thought I needed to change that

Summary: During a light hearted German lesson with your favorite KorTac operator, a small misunderstanding leads to a confession between you and the Austrian

Pairing: König and Gn! Reader (fluff, pre relationship, maybe some spelling mistakes)

A deep, gravely chuckle echoed through the empty room, filling it with a warmth. It dripped from Königs lips like honey, the sound was sweet to your ears.

You groaned as you lifted your face from between your folded arms, you couldn’t contain the smile forcing itself onto your face, you fought back small giggles as you gently elbowed Königs forearm that he laid rested on the wooden table in front of you.

“Please stop laughing, I told you I wouldn’t be any good at this!” You exclaimed, your gazing shifting as you narrowed your eyes at the German book between you, scanning the page amongst the foreign phrases to see if anything framillar popped out, but to your dismay it seemed to be a sea of uncertainty.

König shook his head softly, as he watched you with an uncharacteristically soft look in his pale eyes.

“Nonsense, you just need more practice.” He spoke lowly, his deep voice coated in an airy, velvety tone, he spoke softly as if he was cooing to a frightened animal.

“You wanted me to teach you, remember Schatz?“ he teased weaponizing the nickname, he knew you had a soft spot for his pet names, as you shot him a playful glare

“Don’t you dare, use that name against me.” You grinned with a teasing scowl, before your eyes threaded along the paper, this time your eyes had a curious glow to them, like a child peering through the window of a candy shop. Your eyes fell upon another interesting word

“What’s this one?” You whispered your finger falling to the word you were referring to, your head tilted slightly as Königs eyes drifted to where you had pointed

“Ah, Hase?” He asked softly, his murky blue eyes shifting from the paper to you.

You nodded softly

“What does it mean?” You pressed as you watched König eyes melt from behind his dark hood, like a light peeking through a jungle of darkness.

“It means bunny.” He replied, his voice rasped but as soon as he saw how your face lit up at the word he could feel his cheeks began to glow from under his hood, he gave an airy chuckle, it was such a pure sound, and it melted your heart as you watched him, your eyes never leaving his figure.

König could feel your piercing gaze burning holes through him, he turned to you with a nervous glance

“Why are you staring?” He deadpans his heavy accent bleeding through his words, your soft lips crease into a warm smile.

“Nothing, it's just a cute name.” You hushed with an airy chuckle as you turned from the tall man, a wavering silence lingered in the air filling the space between you.

“You know, I’m really glad I get to spend this time with you, I really do like you.”

You smiled with a pause “how do you say it in German? "Ich liebe dich?”

Your tone was hesitant as you spoke, but as soon as the words fell from your mouth König blue eyes widened, it looked as if they glowed from behind his hood, emulating a soft shimmer in the sea of black paint that coated his pale skin.

A warmth filled his cheeks, now looking away from you, desperately hoping you couldn’t see the effect your words had on him as he offered a choked response

“That’s, that’s how you say “I love you.” He rasped, a slight squeal in his voice

Now it was your turn to become embarrassed, your heart stuttering in your chest as your face grew to a soft red.

“O-oh.” Was the only thing you could muster

Another wave of quite rested, yet this time it seemed to crowd the two of you.

Königs breathy chuckle seemed to snap you from your sort of trance as you looked up to him. His large hand patted your shoulders, König turned to you, looking into your eyes as whispered something

“Ich liebe dich auch, meine süße.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you turned to him

“What did you say?” You asked Königs eyes had a warmth to them you’d never expected as he spoke. Standing from the table with an airy laugh. You smiled as you called after him

“König! Wait what did you say!” You pressed with a lighthearted smile, you sighed as your eyes drifted once again to the book beneath you falling upon a now framillar phrase,

‘Ich liebe dich…’

———————————————————-

I hoped you enjoyed I really enjoyed writing this!!

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig modern warfare #cod fluff #cod fandom #könig fanfiction #cod headcanons

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gilverrwrites · 4 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet [Lucifer]

Lucifer / GN Human Reader

TW: Somewhat unhealthy relationship/sexual habits

Notes: Pretty sure all angels are like, assigned gender neutral at creation (at least that’s my HC) but I do refer to Lucifer by he/him. All HCs transfer to any vessel excluding physical descriptions.

Self indulgent dom Lucifer undertones, some fluff.

If you enjoy, and would like to see more, please let me know!

Rating: M/18+

I hope you have a great rest of your day.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If he legitimately has let his walls down and is viewing this as some form of relationship, then he’s surprisingly soft and cuddly. Don’t talk about it, or he’ll get defensive. Just enjoy the moment for what it is.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Of his vessel? His tongue. It’s sharp and dirty. He loves using it to tempt you, and loves using it even more on your core, making you wither and moan for him.

Of yours; your face, specifically your expressions. He just loves watching the way your face crumples or eases, the way your cheeks will blush or drain dependent on what you’re feeling, on what he’s doing to you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves making a mess of you, will pull out and cum on any part of you he can reach. He especially likes cumming on your face, then slowly scooping it into your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lucifer is VERY open about his sex life, to literally anyone. He’s an open book with every explicit details, they don’t even have to ask.

He’ll tell them all about the positions he had you in last night, how many times you cried his name, or took his load.

He’s much less vocal about the more tender nights. When you spend hours wrapped up close, rocking together, unguarded. Those moments are just for him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Given his distaste for humans, and having spent such a long time in the cage; not particularly experienced. But what he lacks in practice, he makes up for in confidence, energy, and enthusiasm.

F = Favorite positions (this goes without saying)

Anything deep penetration: legs on shoulders, the flatiron, and especially the lap dance.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lucifer cannot go more than 10 minutes without letting his impulsive thoughts win, and more often than not, those thoughts are humorous to some extent. He may have a big ego, and when it comes to serious matters he will snap necks over nothing, but he’s lived to long to take himself to seriously in moments like these. Additionally, he loves to make you laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I subscribe to the idea that vessels hair stops growing hair and whatnot when they’re being possessed (it’s definitely not just TV convenience). That being said, Nick was too consumed with grief to stay on top of that area before Lucifer came along. And Lucifer does not care enough to trim it up either.

It’s clean, but it’s kind of a jungle down there. If you ask him real nicely though, he might tidy it up.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Flirting comes easy to Lucifer, but romance is a foreign language. He can be vulnerable with you if he allows himself to be, if he feels comfortable enough. But if you want romance, you’re gonna have to be vocal and concise, and even then I wouldn’t expect it often or tactfully.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Alone in the cage, he tried it from time to time, and not just jerking. He really got to know himself, his likes, and dislikes. You’ll do a lot of stuff if you’re bored enough.

He even did it when Michael was locked up with him. It was a cheap shot, and sexually he didn’t enjoy it, but he did it just to laugh at the Michaels disgust.

Out of the cages, less so.

Once he got his clutches on you, never.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

100% has a praise/worship kink, tell him you’re ruined for anyone else, tell him nobody could ever make you fell this good and he’ll be riding that euphoria all day. ‘If It makes you comfy:’ Earnestly call him your God, and he’ll cum on the spot.

Simultaneously he has a degradation kink for you. He’ll have you on your knees, hands taught in your hair, growling “Beg for it you filthy whore. Beg me to let you worship my cock."

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

No real preference, but he does like the way your eyes get wide, and your heartbeat hammers when he fucks you somewhere risky. Somewhere you might get caught. “What would you do? If they caught us? What would they think of you, underwear around your ankles, spread open for me like the good little pet you are?” The correct answer is incoherent moaning.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take a lot really. He could just sit back and watch you go about your day, enjoying the sway of your hips, the sound of your laugh. It’s a slow build, but you’re tempting when you’re oblivious to what you’re doing to him.

If you want him there and then though, give him a reason to put you in your place. He likes the power dynamic when you’re challenging him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Exhibitionism is a yes for him, that’s for sure, but there’s an invisible line that surrounds it. The look but don’t touch line. You’re his, and only his to play with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As previously mentioned, he loves putting his mouth to good use. As much as he loves watching you choke and slurp on him, he would happily spend hours forcing wave after wave of pleasure through you, with just his mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow and sensual, especially during foreplay and oral. Just loves watching you squirm as he slowly inches in to you until he bottoms out. Loves watching you pant and beg as he holds you down, forcing you to cockwarm him for hour after hour. But when it comes to game time, when you’re ready to topple, he will hammer into you like there’s no tomorrow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies tie in really well with his fondness for risky sex. Oh, your hunter friend is on their way here to borrow that book? I think now would be a great time to pin you to the couch and make you scream. They’re nearly here? They might hear us? You better get me off quick then, hadn’t you?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely. The real danger with trying something new with Lucifer is just how far he’ll take it, you know? He is not the kind who is gonna spend hours meticulously researching the best and safest ways to explore new kinks. So come prepared, to pray nothing goes wrong.

He is however, prepared to try and fix things/make amends after the fact. Provided you don’t put all the blame on him (regardless of how much it actually is or isn’t.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The real question is how many rounds can you go? How long can you last? That’s one of the perks to being an archangel. He can keep going until you’re a crumpled drooling mess, and he will. He particularly enjoys the way your legs tremor at just the feel of his fingers brushing near your sweet spots once he’s made you orgasm enough times. He is a fiend for overstimulation.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

If you want too, he will, but really, who needs them? Right? He can, and will go all night, and he can make you feel whatever you want with the click of his fingers. I guess the only exception to that rule would be things like role play/costumes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lucifer is the king of teasing. He’ll flirt, touch, and rut himself against you, winding you up all day and then pretend to recede his offer when you get him alone. He wants you to beg him for it.

And just when you think you’ve won him over, when he ploughing into you, he’ll tell you you’re not allowed to cum. Not until he says so.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not particularly loud, he will make some guttural sounds when he finishes, but otherwise the only times he’ll moan is when he’s mocking your own sounds.

But he will talk, he will in fact rarely shut the fuck up.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’ll never admit it, but for all his bark and equally his bite, his favourite part often is the aftermath. You’ll spook him if you talk about it, but he enjoys laying beside you, watching you come down from your high. Pressing his cold hard body against you, all soft and warm and oh so fragile.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Nicks a little above average in the night department so I’d overlap what in the penis area. Circumcised, just over 6 inches, a little on the thin side.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When he’s in the mood, you’ll know he’s in the mood, and he’s easy to turn on if you know how to push his buttons.

However, he has been around a long time. Sure he is demanding in the moment, but in between he can be patient.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t sleep, and he’ll probably be gone by the time you wake up. But he will stay until you fall asleep, just to enjoy the serenity, the calm after the storm.

#lucifer x reader #spn lucifer #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural lucifer #lucifer smut #supernatural reader insert #gilverrwrites

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holdmytesseract · 2 months

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Drabble/Blurb request: Baby Fever: The Bare Necessities (The Jungle Book)

"Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities

Forget about your worries and your strife

I mean the bare necessities

That's why a bear can rest at ease

With just the bare necessities of life"

Little Dancing Queen

Loki & Ella

Warnings: nothing. This is pure tooth rotting fluff.

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Friend... Thank you SO much for this request. Gods, the blurb I wrote is SO sweet, I love it! I hope you do, too! 🤗💖

Last day of the Campfire Sleepover! 🏕

"Okay, princess, what are we going to do while mama is out in the city with your grandmother?" Loki - currently for a little vacation with his family on Asgard, asked his baby daughter, while softly tightening his hold on her. Not that she fell off his stomach.

Ella was sitting - like so often on her daddy's upper body; currently playing with a pair of toy bricks. Her uncle Thor's old toy bricks, to be exactly.

Her wide, blue eyes stared at her father's face; nothing but a sweet coo leaving her tiny lips, before she started to suckle on one of the toy bricks.

Not the answer Loki hoped for.

He sighed, "No idea, princess, huh?" and fiddled with the straps of the cute dungarees she wore; getting them back in the right place. "Dadada," Ella squeaked; almost hitting Loki in the face with the toy brick.

"No, little lady, I was asking you and- Woah, be careful with that brick!" He tickled Ella's tummy in return; causing her to giggle.

For Loki, it was one of the most beautiful sounds in all the nine realms... Hearing his daughter laugh.

"Cheeky girl," Loki laughed and took her tiny hand in his; blowing a raspberry on her palm - which made her giggle even more.

Loki's eyes were trained on Ella. Oh, how much he loved her. She was the best thing that ever happened to him - besides you. "Oh my sweet, precious princess, I-" Loki cut off his own sentence as a sudden idea hit him.

"Ohh, I know what we are going to do. Come on, sweet girl."

Without wasting another minute, the god stood up with Ella in his arms and walked straight to the main door of your shared chambers.

Making his way down the big, rich hallways of the palace, Loki had a destination in mind... The ballrooms.

On his little walk, he passed by a lot of servants, maids and guard; the palace bustling with life. Everybody greeted him kindly and was absolutely enchanted by the little girl in his arms. Of course, they were. Everyone who met Ella was immediately enthralled. She had that effect on people; was able to have everyone wrapped around her finger in no time.

"Alright, baby girl..." Loki spoke to his princess, while opening the huge golden doors with his free hand. "I'll show you one of the ballrooms, princess. It's almost a shame that I never showed you this before. Not in all those months you've been born." He stepped inside the big, spacious room and snapped his fingers; closing the doors behind them.

Ella looked around with wide eyes; seemingly fascinated with her surroundings. Gold everywhere; bright, warm light, music instruments on their left. It was stunning.

"Now..." The god said and squatted down to let Ella stand on her own two small legs. "What do we do in a ballroom?" Loki asked and snapped his fingers; making the instruments play some classical music. Ella's eyes widened even more and she smiled; starting to bob up and down - like a toddler does. She understood.

Loki smiled brightly, "Exactly, princess! Dancing!" and watched her for a short moment; just relishing in her utter cuteness. But then he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "But I feel like that's not the right music, what do you think, sweetie?"

Ella stopped in her movements and looked up at her dad; one finger stuck in her mouth. "Dada!" She squealed. "I take that as a yes," Loki approved and snapped his fingers again.

Now they were playing a familiar song. One which Ella heard a trillion times before. One that her mama showed her - and Loki. 'The Bare Necessities' from the Disney movie 'The Jungle Book'.

The little girl squealed up happily again and started to bob up and down once more - but definitely with more enthusiasm and energy. Her tiny raven curls bobbed with her movements.

Loki laughed out loud, totally enamoured by his daughter.

His laugh quickly died down, though, when Ella lost her balance and almost toppled over. Almost. Loki was quick to react and caught her in his arms. "I've got you, princess. Nothing happened. You're fine." Ella's eyes were wide from the small shock, but she quickly recovered as Loki took her tiny hands in his and started to move her to the music.

She giggled; everything forgotten and started to move with her dad.

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @simping-for-marvel @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn @loki-laufeyson223

#campfire sleepover #2k follower celebration #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 11 months

Text

something like ms.honey 2

cw: fluff, a bit of angst, mention of haley, flashback scene, friends to lovers, hotch being emotionally constipated

“I can’t do it,” you mutter on the phone and your friend sighs.

“You most definitely can, don’t chicken out.”

You really can’t, you cannot go on this date. It’ll be a waste of time and a waste of money.

What you’d rather be doing is spending the day with your grumpy neighbour and his energetic eight year old who loves all things sweet just like you.

Except, you’ve not seen them in five days.

Aaron’s more than likely away on a case, and Jack’s with Jessica, but there’s not been a single text and you can feel dread setting it.

You want to reach out, but that feels like more than an admission of worry and you’re not sure if you want to delve into what else it could be.

It’s a little mind numbing the way the Hotchner’s have wormed their way into every routine you have and now that they’re not part of it, it feels like something is missing.

“I think I’m just gonna stay in and do class prep.” there’s a finality in your voice that makes your friend sigh.

“Alright, just,” she takes a breath, “crack a bottle of red.”

You hang up after that, rifling through your cabinets for your craft stuff.

You’re teaching the kids about shapes and slightly about fractions, but you wanted it to be fun- so it required a sacrifice to your Saturday night.

Construction paper in varying colours and Youtube tutorials were how you spent about three hours before your phone rang.

Sighing, you slide ‘answer’ without even looking at the screen.

“Hello?” there’s no answer on the line, just a crackle and a pop.

“Hello?” you pull the phone away from your ear and see ‘AH.’ Frowning, you say a little frustratedly, “Aaron?”

“It’s Jack,” there’s lots of whispering and you get nervous. “Daddy’s downstairs.”

“Are you okay, J?” you find yourself asking, standing and reaching for your keys.

“Daddy’s friends from work are here.” you take a peek out your kitchen window, but see no cars at their house.

“Where baby?” your heart is hammering in your chest.

“My old house, there was a problem.”

“Can you get your dad on the phone?” you ask, ready to get in your car and over to Jack and Aaron.

“I’m supposed to be sleeping,” he admits shyly and you laugh. “I miss you.” he says and you feel your heart swell.

“I miss you too Jack,” god you wish you could hug his little body. “Is everything okay?”

Jack sighs, “It was my mom’s birthday two days ago,” your heart breaks for Jack and Aaron.

Jack had told you about his mom’s funeral when he was over the last time Aaron had been away.

“Daddy was sad, and today Uncle Rossi came over because he made a mistake.”

“It’s all good now though?” you ask and Jack says a little, ‘yeah,’ but he sounds sad. “Do you want me to stay on the phone till you fall asleep?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Can we do a video?” he asks and you switch over immediately, finding Jack’s face smushed to his pillow.

“You look so cozy,” you tell him and he smiles, a little blush taking over his face. “What story do you want?” you have a couple of his favourites still at the house.

“Jungle book again, please.”

You read only a couple chapters of the book before Jack falls asleep, the phone falling to the bed so you’re staring at the ceiling but you don’t mind it.

You’re cleaning up your coffee table when you hear Jack’s door open.

“Y/n?” It’s the first sign of trouble when Aaron says your name like that.

You’re not sure what the trouble could be, but you know it’s unsettling and it makes your skin crawl just slightly.

You curse yourself internally at that thought.

Aaron doesn’t have to call you ‘sweetheart’ every time, friends usually go by first names too.

“Hey,” you say, and there’s a sort of awkward silence that fills the space. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for him to keep the phone, he sounded so sad and fell asleep.” Aaron just shakes his head.

“It’s fine Y/n, it’s been a tough week for him.” it grates on your nerves the way he’s determined to only call you your name, but you nod as Aaron speaks, packing your crafts into your sticker folder and sliding it into your tote bag.

There’s something weird with him.

“Jack said you’d been sad.” you mumble before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sorry.”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. “He likes you,” he says and you smile bashfully. “But yeah, I was. I’m better now though, swear.”

You eye him skeptically, but nod anyway.

“Rossi says I’ve made a mistake.” Aaron says unexpectedly. Your eyebrows knit as you wait for him to continue, “Coming back to the house.”

Aaron doesn’t know why he’s saying all this, truly. It’s frightening the way he opens up to you without even thinking.

He wants to add, ‘and being away from you,’ but you cut him off before the words can slip from his lips.

“Do you think it is?” regardless of what his answer is, you’re planning on keeping your face neutral.

“I’m not sure, it’s done some good, but I think mostly it’s made Jack emotional.”

You can see the struggle plain on his face. He’s at war with himself, but you’re not sure why exactly.

“Do what feels right for the two of you.” you say softly and he nods.

Seeing him and hearing that he wants to possibly stay at the house reminds you that they’d never been permanent, no matter what you had thought.

It bubbles an anger that’s really embarrassment and it makes you feel gross, makes you feel wrong.

Wrong for letting them into your routines, wrong for getting so used to them being in your space, wrong for your friendship turning into a crush.

“I gotta go,” you say and Aaron nods. He can tell something’s wrong, but prying seems wrong.

Everything seems wrong now.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

You go another week without the Hotchners but this time they’re home. In their house right across the street.

Jack still waves at you from inside their gates, but he doesn’t come over and you hardly see Aaron.

There’s something odd and it’s eating away at you. You hate the limbo of not knowing what’s going on, but you knew it was bound to happen after that phone call.

You give Jack his ‘something sweet’ every week though, still giving him double the regular batch even if Aaron isn’t talking to you.

Your week has been mostly the same routine, wake up, go to school, teach the kids.

Except today.

Everything’s been turned on its head since the moment you woke up.

You’re late. And you’re never late, not even five minutes.

Your alarm didn’t go off, and now you’re about to be an hour late for school because you haven’t had breakfast or showered yet.

The only good thing is that you called in the moment you got up and let the school know you’d be late. Other than that? It’s been a shit show.

As you step out the door, you see Aaron hovering by your gate.

You’re only slightly disturbed by his presence, especially the beard he’s grown. “Is something wrong?” you ask as you lock your door.

“You’re still here.” he’s got an almost relieved tone to his voice.

“I’m late,” you explain softly and he nods, stepping back as you open your gate. “Are you sure nothings wrong?”

Aaron never grows a beard, and he never comes over in the morning even when you were talking.

Sure you being late is uncharacteristic, but it doesn’t warrant a visit from him- especially after all this time.

“You haven’t called me ‘Aaron’ in almost two weeks.” he grimaces after the words leave him like he wasn’t supposed to say anything.

“You haven’t spoken to me in almost two weeks.” you counter as you reach your car. “I’m not doing this right now, you have your reasons fine whatever. I have to get to work.”

You’ve never been this cursory with him ever, and it stings, but Aaron nods.

Your day doesn’t brighten much from there. The kids are all a bit restless and teaching fractions doesn’t go as smoothly as you’d have liked, but they’re understanding the differences a lot better now.

You don’t force it on them after lunch though.

Instead, you let them go over their writing and reading and help them make crafts till the last bell.

Aaron’s outside waiting for you and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Sure you missed him, but like this, he’s two steps away from making your bad day worse.

“Come pick up Jack with me? He hasn’t seen me for the day.” you want to ask why, but you don’t want to be reinvited into their lives like this.

“Aaron,” you want to tell him no. You want to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, to pretend you don’t exist because it was so easy for him over the last two weeks.

But there’s something about the way his shoulders drop and relax as you say his name that has you caving. Something about that Aaron Hotchner smile, that’s not even a smile that wins you over.

“Fine.”

He knows using Jack to force the two of you together is wrong, but after Rossi and Reid grilling him, he wants to make amends.

“You stopped speaking to her?” David is livid. He knows exactly why Aaron had stopped speaking to you but he hates that he’s allowed his worry to rule him again.

“Hotch, she was nice.” Spencer chimes and Aaron rolls his eyes and sucks at his teeth.

“None of you have met her!” he hisses and Spencer shrugs.

“Jack talks,” is all Reid says and David nods.

“Yeah, the kid’s practically in love with her. He even shared some of that chocolate babka she made for you, she’s got a good hand for it.” Rossi says and Aaron smiles despite it all.

Rossi wants to tease him, but the smile has something sad about it.

“That’s why it can’t go on Dave, she’s someone to lose now.”

David and Spencer sigh and lean forward at the round table.

“And you pushing her away is what? Keeping him from losing her? It’s premature even for you, Hotch.” Rossi’s words are weighted, but it’s Spencer that gets to him.

“Jack’s going to lose her twice, once as his friend and then again as his neighbour. When she realizes you’re done with whatever it is you had, she’s going to leave Jack alone to avoid you.”

There’s an implied, ‘and it’ll be your fault,’ that Spencer politely refuses to add verbally.

The words had been swimming around his head all week but he didn’t know how to approach you about it to apologise.

“Did you drive here?” you ask as you reach your car, looking up at Aaron to see him shake his head.

“No, um, Spencer dropped me off.” you nod though you have no clue who this ‘Spencer’ is.

“Get in,” you mutter, sliding into the front seat and starting the car.

The ride is mostly silent and uncomfortable.

It’s stifling that the two of you are this silent but clearly have something to say.

It’s causing a stress knot at the back of your neck now that you think about it.

“Can you just say whatever it is you want to? The tension is ridiculous.” you murmur, eyes darting between Aaron and the road.

He feels gross all over at the way you’ve dismissed him even while speaking to him- but Aaron knows he’s deserved this.

“I’m sorry.” he starts and you frown. “For being distant, and for not coming over. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” he says softly, almost like he’s ashamed of his actions.

“That’s not why I was upset,” you reply, pulling into the parking lot of Jack’s school. “You stopped being my friend. You put distance between us when you went back to your old house, and I didn’t know why. Then when you came home you couldn’t even look at me and say, ‘We can’t be friends anymore’ you just shut me out.”

There’s a long silence in the car as Aaron tries to pick his next few words and you feel like you probably should’ve never said anything to begin with.

“We’ll talk later,” he says as the children start rushing out.

You stay in the car while Aaron gets Jack and sigh. Your forehead is pressed against the steering wheel when the back door opens and a rowdy Jack pushes his face up to yours.

“Y/n!” he screams, and you giggle despite yourself.

“Inside voice Jack,” Aaron corrects softly and Jack nods, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“How was your day?” you ask as you pull out, content to give Jack all your attention if it means that you can avoid whatever is going on between you and his dad.

“Can I come over?” Jack asks as you pull into the familiar road. “Dad?” he prompts when neither of you answer.

Aaron only looks at you.

“Uh yeah babe, but me and your dad have to talk, that okay?” Jack nods, unbuckling his seatbelt as you get out.

“C’mon J,” you call, opening the door and letting him race in.

You set up the tv for him, ‘Little Einsteins’ playing as he sings along. You place a bottled water and a plate of cookies on the coffee table for him too, before turning to Aaron who’s leaning on your kitchen’s arch.

You stare at him from the other side of the archway, waiting for him to speak.

“I couldn’t,” he starts and you cross your arms. “I don’t do well with loss, it’s hard to let people in since Haley died- Jack’s mom.”

God you wish you weren’t so emotional. You can feel tears pricking your eyes just at the mention of Jack’s mom.

“I don’t like putting him in a position where he can lose people. He wasn’t supposed to befriend you, neither of us were,” you nod. “but we did and it started to feel too good being around you.”

You want to stop him, but Aaron bulldozes you and continues, “Things go wrong quickly when they start to feel good. There’s risks that come with being involved with any agent.”

“I don’t think someone would attack me because we were friends Aaron,” you try to joke but he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even do his little eyebrow quirk and it makes you nervous.

“Maybe not, but I didn’t want to take the chance. Anything could go wrong.”

“Anything could go wrong in friendships that don’t involve agents.” is your counter.

You push off the archway when your brain catches up, “Wait, did you say, ‘didn’t’?” you’re closing the distance between you.

He smiles a little then, only the tip of his smile going up but you see it.

“A couple friends told me I was being premature, in putting distance between us. They also reminded me I was more than capable of keeping people safe.”

You can’t help but smile, “And?”

Aaron’s not off the hook, that much he can tell.

He can also tell that you’re giving in.

“And, I wanted to stop being an ass and I really really missed coming over.”

You shake your head, “What if I didn’t want us to be friends again?”

Aaron pauses for a moment, it’s long and pregnant and it makes you nibble on your lip when you catch onto what he’s thinking, but then he gives you a proper smile this time, “Then I’d go ask Jack to convince you to give us another shot with you.”

“Oh that’s mean,” you mumble and Aaron nods, the toes of your shoes touching now.

“Alright, fine, since you’ve really pulled my leg, I’ll be your friend again Aaron Hotchner.” you say dramatically and he laughs.

“Good, because I really did miss you. More than Jack.” he whispers the last part and you scoff.

“Oh that’s not true, Jack called me.” you say and Aaron’s eyebrows knit together.

“After we came back?” he asks softly and you nod.

“Three times a week from the landline.” The boy in question comes running into the kitchen, an empty plate of cookies in his hand.

“Thanks Y/n,” you take the plate from him, and as soon as his hands are empty he hugs your legs. “Missed you.” he says and you ruffle his hair.

Aaron feels his heart break at the fact that his son had missed you so much, he called you on the house phone. Reid was right, he’d have made Jack lose you twice. He almost did.

“C’mon babe,” you lift Jack to your hip, “Let’s choose something to bake for tomorrow.”

Aaron watches as you go for your cookbook, sitting Jack on the countertop as you both flip through the desserts section.

You all fall into your regular routine after a couple weeks, Jack coming over on a Friday for his ‘something sweet’ and to give you all the details of his week.

Aaron never stays long these days, hard cases that’s mainly long hours but he pops in every night just before you go to bed.

Like tonight, Jack’s still with you, not awake but asleep in your lap, and Aaron knocks on your door.

“Shit,” you mumble, lifting Jack’s head and placing it on a cushion.

“Y/n,” he whines and you pout, kissing his head before jogging off to the door.

“You have to get your own keys,” you say to Aaron, finding him in just his suit shirt, tie and jacket gone. “He fell asleep.”

Aaron shakes his head as he steps in, noticing both you and Jack in your pyjamas as he flicks your locks.

“It’s not even eight thirty, what did you get up to?”

You don’t say a word, but gesture to the coffee table and then to the kitchen.

The coffee table is covered in paper dinosaurs, all in varying colours and species, and the kitchen has multiple tupperware bowls, some with food and others with sweets.

“You’re weak sweetheart,” he chuckles and you shrug.

“He’s nice, and we had fun. Jack pays in compliments and kisses, what’s better than that?” Aaron sits where you had been, raising Jack’s head so it lays in his lap, and pats his free side.

“You shouldn’t be working on crafts on the weekend,” Aaron whispers but you frown. “You should be relaxing.”

You suck at your teeth, “We did relax! We made dinner together and we baked brownies and then we made dinosaurs.”

He just nods, but Aaron wishes he had the time to actually let you relax.

He wishes that he could have a weekend off to take you and Jack someplace where you don’t have to entertain.

There’s a contemplative look on his face that makes his eyebrows scrunch together and his lips purse - you don’t like it even a little bit.

“You’re being weird Aaron.” you say as you reach and smooth the wrinkles in his eyebrows.

“I’ve never been weird,” you giggle softly but don’t say anything and it makes Aaron shake his head. “I’m thinking.”

You pull back from him, “Aaron, please, don’t hurt yourself.” he pushes at your shoulder when you laugh.

“Something serious?” you ask, standing and moving to the kitchen.

Aaron’s about to call out to you when he spots you walking back with a bowl of food and a fork.

“It could be,” he says and he takes the things from you. You flick through the shows, settling on something easy as he eats.

“Are you gonna tell me?” he shakes his head, crunching on a carrot.

“Nah, not yet.” you huff but say nothing, content to just watch your show till Aaron’s ready to leave.

Except, you fall asleep in his lap as well, and he can’t move. He doesn’t mind, not a bit but he does shift a little so he can lay down too with you and Jack on him.

“Fucking perfect.”

The next week is fast, the term is winding down for thanksgiving and then Christmas break.

The kids have been good at the fractions and the shapes, a real change from the last couple of weeks and it makes you feel a teacher’s pride that’s ridiculous.

“You guys are so smart!” you praise as you watch the class name each of the fractions with ease.

Now they’re all eagerly telling you their plans for Thanksgiving, and what their parents are going to be making while you’re in circle time.

“Miss Y/n?” Ben raises his hand as you walk around the room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you do for Thanksgiving?” the class all nod at his question and you smile.

“Uh, well my family and I never really celebrated it. We did the big lunch and dinner for Christmas.”

Another hand goes up and you point to the girl, Lyn, “Will you be alone then?”

They all know you’re not from Virginia.

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll spend it with my neighbours.” you haven’t really spoken of it with Aaron and Jack, but if you have to spend it alone it won’t be as bad as it used to be.

“I hope you do,” Lyn says and you smile.

“Thank you Lyn.”

On your drive home, you think about Thanksgiving and what you’ll do for it, but everything feels too much. It feels weird thinking about doing something when you usually do nothing.

“Y/n!” Jack’s waiting outside your door with Aaron, who has to hold his son’s hand so he doesn’t run over to the car.

“Jack,” you greet and he tugs on your fingers. “What’s wrong baby?”

Aaron comes down to take your keys from you.

“We’re going out,” Aaron says and you frown.

“Where?” you ask and Jack beams.

“Our favourite!” Jack giggles madly and you shake your head.

“Never been.” you say and Aaron smiles. He unlocks your door and watches you and Jack go in before getting in himself.

“That’s even better. We’ll wait for you. It’s not formal. Reservation is for 7.”

Aaron can tell you want to say something, but you don’t. You just make your way to your staircase.

“Y/n, can I have more cookies?” Jack asks and you nod to Aaron.

“If your dad says it’s okay before dinner.”

You don’t stick around to hear whether or not Aaron allows him.

You come back down and Aaron sees you first. Without his conscious consent his belly fills with butterflies and his nerves frazzle.

You’re in a long, blue and orange skirt and a white t-shirt.

Your hair’s been let down, ringlets of loose curls hanging down your back, your glasses replaced with another pair that matches better.

“I’m ready,” you say, watching Jack and Aaron share a cookie as you grab your purse.

“Leave it.” Aaron says softly, offering you a cookie in turn. “You look beautiful.” he compliments and you smile as you pluck the cookie from his hands.

“So pretty,” Jack says as he touches the colours on your skirt. “Like a princess or a fairy!”

“You’re both flirts,” is the only thing you can say, trying to tamper your embarrassment from their attention.

Dinner is easy, conversation mostly abstract.

“What about if you combined the two, a brownie and a cake,” Jack says as they bring dessert out. Aaron had the good sense to get everyone their own hot brownie with ice cream. “A crownie!” he names it excitedly and you giggle.

“We could try babe,” you say and Jack nods, leaning forward and licking the vanilla ice cream on his brownie.

“It’s hot so don’t touch the pan.” you say and he nods. He’s been beside you all evening, much to Aaron’s amusement yet he can’t help the way he notices Jack has been wanting you more and more.

It’s painfully obvious now how much his son had missed you, and for a moment he feels a sharp stab of dad guilt right to his gut.

“Aaron, your ice cream is gonna melt and then me and Jack are gonna have your entire plate.” you threaten, Aaron’s eyes widening as he notices the chocolate stains around his son’s mouth and the nearly gone brownie.

“Yeah dad, eat up or pay up.”

Your laugh is loud at the little Hotchner’s threat.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aaron says, digging into his brownie before you and Jack team up against him. He still manages to save about half the brownie for the ride home.

The bill comes and you reach for it when Aaron shakes his head.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” It's cruel of him to say it so sweetly and reverently as he fishes his card out of his wallet.

It makes you stumble, and allows him the advantage of paying without another complaint.

Jack knocks out about twenty minutes into the drive back to your house, and from the quiet that surrounds the car you’re tired too.

“You can sleep y’know,” Aaron says as he glances over at you.

You shake your head, defiant, “And leave you up by yourself? Don’t think so.”

He keeps you talking for a little while, before glancing at you and finding your cheek tucked to your shoulder, and your eyes dropping closed.

“Sleep, sweetheart.” he says softly, hand reaching for your cheek.

“Don’t want you to be bored,” you slur and he chuckles.

“Won’t be, promise.” your eyes don’t stay open long after that, certainly not when Aaron keeps stroking your face.

The drive lasts another half hour, you and Jack out like lights.

When he pulls up to your house he grabs your keys from the cup holder.

Aaron’s meticulous as he opens the door and clears the couch so there’s space to place Jack.

The little boy doesn’t rouse, Aaron having perfected the art of transporting a sleeping toddler over the years.

He comes back for you, unbuckling your seatbelt and stroking your arm.

“We’re home sweetheart,” he whispers, watching you turn to where his voice is coming from. “Want me to carry you?” he’s gonna do it unless you say ‘no.’

“I can walk,” you’re groggy, but he moves to let you hop out of the SUV on your own.

Aaron stays behind you though, hand on your back as you walk inside. You stretch and yawn when you’re inside and Aaron smiles.

“Want some tea?” you ask and he shakes his head, he watches you make yours though.

“Thanks for dinner, Aaron.” you say as you hold your mug, taking a scalding sip that makes you hiss.

“Don’t do that,” he says and you frown. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks and you brighten.

Aaron never has the weekends off. Ever.

“You didn’t say you had the weekend off!” you all but scream and he laughs, reaching for your mug as you rush around to his side of the kitchen island.

“I have the day off,” he amends and you nod, sitting halfway in his lap till he tugs you up properly.

“And you want me to spend it with you and Jack?” he nods, handing over the tea when you’re comfortable.

You don’t think hard about his hand falling to your waist to keep you still as he answers you.

“Mhm, Jack wants to go to a book fair.” he elaborates and you nod. “Are you free?”

“So free! But I have to be back in time to go to the farmer’s market.”

Aaron nods, lodging his chin on your shoulder as you sip the tea. He can do with a day of just you and Jack and nothing else.

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