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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”

Prentiss visibly cringed at this.

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”

…

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -

You had a son.

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.

And his birth date was… fuck.

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.

One thousand, seven hundred and two days.

Four years, eight months, and two days.

It wasn’t difficult math.

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.

What the fuck was going on?

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.

“Did you find something?”

…

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.

It could definitely work.

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.

It had been four years.

JJ was someone he could lean on right now.

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.

“One thing at a time, alright?”

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.

And now the two of you likely had a child together.

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.

You were breath-taking.

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.

The first night that he knew he was in love with you.

…

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.

It was a perfect night.

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.

“Interesting.” You replied.

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.

“And see-”

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.

But Spencer was nothing like that.

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“That was… wow.” He sighed.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.

“Well, I - you - wow.”

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.

Back then - everything had been perfect.

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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miupow · 3 months

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──★ ˙ ̟ ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ girl dad yeonjun headcanons .ᐟ

warnings: sfw, parent!au, dad!yeonjun, mentions of fem!reader and mom!reader, just self-indulgent tooth rotting fluff ⋆⑅˚₊

a/n: wanted to drop some fluff so here you go... this is a repost from my old blog! originally requested by @https-yeonjun ♡

-> yeonjun always wanted to have a daughter. he’s always wanted a family and whenever he’d envision that family he’d always seen himself having a daughter. or two.

-> he decided from the moment you told him that you were pregnant that the baby was a girl. it didn’t matter how often you chastised him for it, he just knew it.

-> and of course he was right, which he was very smug about.

-> not really. he ugly cried when she was born

-> calls you and his daughter “his girls”; the two most important women in his life :’(

-> he sings to her all of the time :( sung to her when she was still in your belly, sings her to sleep, hums gentle melodies when he’s holding her tight

-> she drops everything to run and greet him when he comes home every day, and yeonjun’s always quick to scoop her up n spin her around

-> she gives him makeovers all of the time! puts pretty bows n barrettes in his hair, puts play makeup all over his face,,, he’s always covered in glitter no matter how hard he tries to wash it off lol

-> he would genuinely enjoy tea parties with his daughter, would go out of his way to make sure they were perfect and complete with everything she could want

-> makes breakfast before either of you are up, loves surprising his girls :(

-> your daughter has terrible spoiled princess syndrome and it’s all yeonjun’s fault!! he’s the most unstrict dad ever. she completely walks all over him lmao

-> he just can’t say no to her!! he’ll get whatever his princess wants, no matter how much it hurts his wallet

-> and she pouts the exact same way he does!! all sad puppy eyes n duck lips omg she’s impossible to reprimand

-> hed be such an affectionate dad T^T constantly wants to hold n cuddle her, give her all of his time and attention, tell her how much he adores her!!

-> she’s his princess and she KNOWS IT!!!

-> soooo supportive in anything his daughter wishes to do! he’d be her biggest cheerleader <3 in the crowd at the school play making sure he’s cheering louder than all of the other dads

-> he’d lose his mind if anything ever happened to her

-> even if it was just her classmates saying mean things, he’d raise absolute hell

-> he’d completely freak out if she gets hurt, even if it’s a little fall or a scrape. immediately runs to coddle her and soothe her cries. she def plays up the waterworks so he gets her ice cream, and he knows this but is too smitten to care

-> he just can’t stand to see her cry :( would do absolutely anything in his power to make her tears stop no matter what

-> i have to stop before i melt oh my god

#lia's soft hours ☁️#tw.parent au #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt fluff #yeonjun soft thoughts #yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt x you #📥.requests #nightly.sfw #nightly.jjunie

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endthedream · 6 months

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hygge

pairing: model!niki x photographer!reader

summary: meeting at a time where the both of you need a supportive person the most, a beautiful friendship (or more) rises from similar struggles.

words: 6k

story colour: gray

notes: I know this story is shorter than the other ones but I still feel a bit awkward writing about Niki. I tried my best tho and hope all of you can enjoy this story! <3

masterlist of 'enhypen as jobs'

Hygge

noun

a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).

If there was one word your father would describe you with it would be ‘vivacious’. You have always been full of life, walking around with a smile on your face and appreciating the small, little things in life. He called you a ray of sunshine, touched by the angels, and graced with the gift of never-ending happiness. He said you were his inspiration, his muse, his realization of how magical the world can be, and how there is always good in bad. He said you were everything he ever wished for in life.

He used to tell you stories about his travels around the world, places that he captured with the lens of his camera and people he remembered in his heart. Your father told you everything about the world, the cultures, and the unimaginable love he felt when he visited those places. How inspiration was at every corner, how he could see beauty in the tragedies of the world and how everything he felt changed him. He was just a little boy, when he thought he knew the world he never even saw before, but when he came back, he was a man, full of knowledge and respect.

One place he still carries deeply in his heart is Denmark. Not only because it is a beautiful country, so full of wonders and stories, but also because there was one thing he learned from his visit, one thing he still carries with him. ‘Hygge’ is what it is called. A word he now lives by. A word with a greater meaning that inspired the way he was thinking. Hygge is finding happiness in the little things in life. He was the one that taught you from when you were a child that happiness is made out of those small little moments rather than just grant events, finding magic in the ordinary, commonplace, imperfections. You think that he was the one that turned you into the vivacious person you are today.

Your father stopped traveling the world when he met your mom, but his love and passion for photography stayed. He sent his pictures to every agency, working his way up until this point. Until he started taking pictures of the most famous people in the world. It’s not something that he originally wanted or planned, but it is definitely something he enjoys. Because instead of traveling to meet people around the world, he invites them to his studio and takes photos of them. He has met dozens of people without even having to leave town.

It’s been two weeks since you ‘officially’ started working for your dad. You have been helping him at his studio ever since you can remember, and when he offered you to work for him full-time, you couldn’t say no.

Much like him you love photography, always taking pictures of everything and everyone. It has become your thing, your passion as well. And while working at your dad’s studio isn’t the kind of photography you originally wanted to do, it is a start that will hopefully take you far. Like him, you want to travel the world, appreciate every single country and capture everything you see with the lens of your camara. You want to have a blog where you can post those pictures and write about the experiences you have during your travels. You want to inspire people to follow their dreams, to pick up a camera and express themselves, to find who they really are. You want to be able to close your eyes, take a deep breath and know that the moment you open your eyes again, the view that will wait for you is worth every single dollar on this planet.

“You are daydreaming again.”, you can hear the voice of your father right next to your ear, making you snap out of your thoughts and turn around to him. He is grinning from ear to ear, arms folded.

“Sorry.”, you say, showing him a sheepish smile before looking back into the computer right in front of you, showing a picture of a woman who came in her just two days ago. “I am almost done with editing though. How do you like it?”

Your father leans down, eyes skimming over the picture for a few seconds before looking at you again. “I like how you enhanced the colors of her dress, but I think it’s too dark. We wanted to go with a more tropical, summery vibe and now it looks like fireworks on a stormy night. Brighten the picture and see what you can do to get rid of the white dots in the background.” You never said working for your dad was easy. He is your loving, kind, devoted father, but he is also a businessman. He knows what looks good and what doesn’t and whenever he takes the pictures, he has an exact vision of how it has to turn out.

“Oh, and we also got a last-minute photo shoot for tomorrow. I think this is your chance to show off your photographer skills.” In an instant you spin around in your chair, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“What? But dad, I’ve never taken professional photos before. What if I mess up the shot and you will get a bad reputation?” Until recently, photography was a hobby to you, just capturing small things you saw while taking walks, taking pictures of your friends and family or sometimes even creating abstract pictures, but never have you ever done it professionally. Not with an expensive camera or twelve lights around you or with a model in front of you. God, especially not with a model that has probably high expectations in you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, this is a good opportunity for you. And I will just be two rooms away, if you struggle or have any questions, you can always get me. But you will never make it if you don’t step over your own boundaries. How will you travel the world and capture everything with a lens, when you can’t do it right now? That’s how you learn it and that’s how you grow within it. Don’t see this as a challenge, see this as an opportunity to come out big into the world of photography.” It’s quiet for a moment, you taking the time to think about your fathers’ words and your father taking the time to study your face. He knows that this is a big step for you, but he needs to push you over your own boundaries and help you over the fear of failing.

“Okay, yeah, okay, you are right, dad. I can do this. Who will I have the photoshoot with?” Placing one hand comfortingly on your shoulder, your dad smiles proudly at you. You love that look on his face, the love and pride radiating from it. It fills you with joy and the determination to always give your best in every situation. It has made you turn into the efficient and hard-working person you are today.

“His name is Niki Nishimura. He is a model from Japan, and I thought that this would be perfect for you since the two of you are the same age. I think that you will be able to hit it off perfectly.” There is something in you that stops for a second. You have heard of Niki before from girls in your class, have seen the covers of magazines he is on and commercials on the tv. He is popular, well, more than that actually. Niki is the face of the most well-known brands, walks on fashion week catwalks and on top of that is known for his sweet and polite personality. He is the whole package, and you are going to meet him tomorrow.

“Are you okay?”, your father asks you after you’ve been silent for a while. “Do you know Mr. Nishimura?”

“Know him?”, you say, voice suddenly rising. “Dad he is so popular. Everyone knows him. How do you expect me to do a photo shooting with him when he has literally been on every single magazine I see? How am I supposed to keep my cool when he walked for fashion week in Paris? Dad, this is a huge responsibility, I can’t do that.”

“No, you cannot change your mind now. Y/n, what happened when you said ‘Yeah, dad, you are right. I can do this. Thank you for giving me this wonderful opportunity. You are the best dad in this whole world, and everyone should be jealous because they don’t have such a kind, loving, fantastic, talented, handsome father like I do.’”, he says, mimicking your voice in a high-pitched tone, and you can’t hide the small grin on your lips.

“First of all, that’s not how I sound. Second, you are so full of yourself.” You dramatically roll your eyes as you let your head fall into your arms. “And third, that was before I knew the photo shoot was going to be with the freaking Niki Nishimura. This changes things, dad, this changes things drastically.”

“Y/n, stop being so hard on yourself. Famous or not, that boy is still a human being. He is the same age as you are, so don’t think of him any differently. This is the first lesson you have to learn in this kind of work. Celebrities are humans too. They are just known by more people, but they go to the toilet like you, and they probably also do dance parties in their room late at night when they think their dads are asleep.” Your cheeks turn red as you hear the last sentence, not having known that your dad actually heard you dancing late at night in your room before. But before you can open your mouth and defend yourself, your dad continues. “They are like you and me, sweetheart. So, don’t worry, okay? If anyone can do this, then you. I believe in you, with all my heart.”

Your hands are shaking as you set up the camera. The lights are already on and directed right at the boy in front of you, who is currently watching you with attentive eyes as you fiddle around with the tripod. You were aware that Niki is known for his respectful personality, but when he walked into your dads’ studio, you didn’t expect him to be this… shy. He really seemed like a little boy who lost his parents in a supermarket. Niki was barely able to mumble a quick hello to you and tell you his name.

“Are you ready?”, you ask him, looking up at the boy who quickly- almost as if he was caught doing something wrong- looks down at the ground, nodding his head. “Okay, I’m just going to fix this light, since I think it makes you look to pale, and then we can start.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walk over to the softbox, changing its position a bit.

You are so caught up in your head that you get startled as you hear the boy in front of you start to talk. “Your hands are shaking.” It’s a simple sentence, a simple statement, but it makes you stop in your tracs. You look up at him yet again, noticing that he has taken off the sunglasses he has to wear for the shoot. There is something in his eyes- softness, you think- that makes you feel comfortable, less nervous.

“Yes.”, you stutter, clearing your throat a few times. “I’m nervous. This is my first time doing a real photo shoot, and I’m… just terrified that I will make a mistake.” Niki just nods at your words, taking a few seconds to look around the room, which gives you time to take in his outfit for this shoot. You haven’t really looked at him closely, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in any way.

He wears an all-black outfit, black slacks with a black shirt underneath a black blazer. The red and white collar of his shirt gives the outfit the finishing touch, hinting just a bit of color that is needed to compliment him. He looks amazing, dashing, like he is out of a movie- a James Bond movie probably. And you realize you have never seen a more gorgeous person in your whole entire life.

“I’m sure you will be doing just perfect.”, he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile at a thumbs up. You have to scoff slightly at his try of encouragement, showing him the same tight-lipped smile, before continuing to change the position of the softbox.

Somehow your hands are even more shaky as you stand in front of the camera again, your breaths come in shallow, and your vision become blurry. You have to close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm yourself down, trying to remind yourself that it’s just a photo shoot and that Niki is just a normal boy. But it doesn’t work, your mind is spiraling with all these bad thoughts and can’t stop them from coming over and over again, attacking and breaking you into pieces.

“Hey, are you sure you’re fine? You look like you are about to faint.” You hear Nikis’ voice, but it is somewhere in the distance, you can’t grasp if it is miles away or right beside you. The world starts turning and you really think you might actually lose control over your whole body.

“Yeah.”, you can hear your own voice, but you can’t feel your lips moving. “Just… just give me a second.” You stumble backwards, eyes still closed and somehow you land right on your behind. You don’t open your eyes, still too afraid of how your surroundings look. You don’t even flinch when you feel two hands taking yours.

“Listen to me, okay? Just follow what I am saying.” There it is again, Nikis voice. There is a mix of concern and determination in it, but you don’t have time to think about that any longer. “Breath in, and out. Again. In and out.” You continue this pattern for a few minutes. Niki guiding your breaths and you following his orders. And you can slowly start feeling yourself calm down.

When you open your eyes again, the world has stopped spinning, your heart beats at a normal speed again and your hands stopped shaking. Niki is sitting beside you, watching you carefully. “Thanks.”, you just mumble, letting out a long and deep sigh.

“No need to thank me.”

There is a comfortable silence surrounding the two of you, and for a moment you forget that there is someone sitting right beside you, until Niki speaks up again. “Did that happen to you before?”

You shake your head, letting a hand glide through your hair. “No, never. I think I was just worrying too much about everything that my body just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Niki nods slightly, eyes fixated at a point in front of him. “I used to have panic attacks all the time. Before photo shootings, before catwalks, before pretty much anything.” You look at him as he speaks, seeing the pain on his face as he remembers past moments. “I was nervous, terrified of messing up, of not being good enough, of failing every single person in my life. Those thoughts never left my mind, and I did not know how to stop them. I felt helpless, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, afraid they might laugh at me or think I am a pathetic little boy.”

“What did you do to change that?”, you ask him, attentively listening to him and hanging onto every word that was coming out of his mouth.

“Well, I started believing in myself more. Because why would people book me for modeling, if they didn’t think I was good at it? I started telling myself that I am good enough, that I made it this far, because I am good at what I am doing. Believing in yourself is always the first step to a healthier mindset.” You watch as he nervously picks at the skin on his fingers, before continuing. “And then I started telling myself that we are all just tiny little humans on a tiny little planet in this big universe. Why would I waste my time caring about my looks, or the way I walk and talk, when nothing of that is important? I mean, it is important, but you know what I mean. It seems like nothing compared to the universe. Why should I care about the opinions of others, when I will probably never see them again in my life? Why would I give my precious time to people who will just waste it, if I can surround myself with nothing but happiness? After all, we are all just little humans having dreams and hopes, having a life of our own and chasing one thing. Happiness.”

There is a silent tear rolling down your cheeks as you hear his words, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice it.

“And then I started to talk to people about my thoughts, and it helped so much. Other models told me about their worries, about their problems. And suddenly, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I felt understood, like someone tuck me into bed with a warm blanket and kissed my forehead.” There is a short moment where you both smile into the distance, caught in your own heads, before Niki directs his gaze back at you. “I’ve seen your dads’ work, that’s why I wanted to come here and get my pictures taken by him. And when he told my agency about you, his prodigy daughter, I knew that if a person as talented as him recommends you do the photo shoot with me, then you must be just as talented as he is. When I saw you today, saw the way you took so much care of the equipment and about every single person on this set, I knew that I wouldn’t want anyone else to take photos of me. You just have to believe in yourself more, trust yourself and your abilities and stop the spiral in your head. Stop thinking and just do what you love to do.”

“So, I went up to him and told him to get lost. I mean he is famous, yes, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat other people like that. Especially since my dad was having a photo shoot with him. Like be grateful that at least someone is taking pictures of you.” Niki laughs at your story, long having forgotten the hot chocolate in front of him. After your panic attack, Niki proposed a little break, so you took him to one of the best cafés in town.

“It’s so good that you gave him a piece of your mind. Sometimes fame really gets into peoples’ brains and they start thinking they are above anyone.” You nod your head, smiling at him widely and taking a bit of the cake you ordered. You close your eyes, enjoying the different flavors melting on your tongue. And when you open your eyes again, you find Niki staring at you, a fascinated look on his face. You show him a questioning look, swallowing another bite of your cake.

“I find it fascinating.”, he says, fork poking his own cake. “The way you seem to soak up every single small thing in life. Just a second ago, you looked like you were soaking up the flavor of this cake with your whole body. On the walk here, you stopped walking just to watch a bee on the flowers of the flower shop we passed by, and your eyes were actually sparkling. And it’s the way you talk about things, especially your dad. You have this way of making me feel like I was actually there with you throughout all your little stories. It’s just fascinating how much someone can enjoy life and all its little wonders.”

There is a faint tint of blush slowly creeping up your cheeks and you quickly try to hide it by covering your face with your hair. “Do you know the word hygge?” Niki shakes his head at your question, waiting for you to continue. “It’s a word from Denmark and it basically has the meaning of enjoying the small things in life and finding happiness in them. I learned it from my father and been living by it all my life.”

“That is so beautiful.” You can feel the air shift. Niki lowers his head, fork dropping beside his cake. “Sometimes I feel like my life is moving so far. I have to be somewhere new every single day. I rush from one place to another without having time to appreciate the stuff I get to see and do every single day. Everything moves so quickly, and I feel like I can’t just be a simple kid, living a simple life. I have to be a mature role model who knows everything and behaves perfectly at all times. I had to do that since I was fifteen. And it’s just… exhausting. Sometimes I just want to stop time and be… me. I want to appreciate things, stuff myself full of food until I’m nauseous, play pranks on my friends without being titled as mean. I want to act goofy without being called childish, even though I am still seventeen.”

Sniffling down your tears, you reach over to grab Nikis’ hand. “Listen to me, Niki. You are the bravest, most talented, kind-hearted person ever. Life isn’t treating anyone fairly, but we should not let that decide our whole future. If you really want to enjoy life to its fullest, then do it. Take a break, talk to your management or something like that. If you really want something, you can always get it, if you want deeply want it. People will always have something they won’t like about you, because they are jealous and miserable, but just remember that you don’t know those people and you never will. So, don’t let them decide who you are, and definitely don’t let them have power over who you want to be. Life is too short to waste it, and we won’t stay young forever. It’s important to enjoy every single little thing before it is too late.”

There is a single tear rolling down Nikis’ face, but he catches it with his thumb before it can land on the table. He takes a few breaths, calming himself down, before looking into your eyes again. He shows you a sad smile, the hand that is still holding yours squeezing in an appreciating manner. “Thank you so much for telling me all that. You don’t know how much this means to me, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me for something like that, Niki. I just said what you needed to hear a long time ago.” A few seconds of silence fill the air, Niki just looks around, trying not to think too much about your words. He doesn’t want to tear up yet again. “Okay, before any of us will start bawling their eyes out, how about you finish your cake, and I will take you to a cool place?”

Nikis’ eyes widen at the scene in front of him. The towns autumn festival is known for being breathtaking, decorations of pumpkins, leaves and mushrooms everywhere, a fairy’s wheel laced with moos and fairy lights, games you can play at every corner and a big campfire where people laugh, talk, sing and grill marshmallows. Niki doesn’t know where to look first, his eyes trying to take in every single little thing at once, before eventually landing on you, again.

“This is, wow, Y/n, this is the coolest thing I have ever seen.” You smile brightly at him before tugging on his sleeve, silently telling him to follow you. You walk up to a stand selling waffles, smiling at the elderly guy.

“Hey, Mr. Kim. Can we have two waffles, and please give them a bit of extra chocolate sauce, my friend here has never tried your waffles before.”

“Y/n, my dear, anything for you.” Niki and you both watch as Mr. Kim prepares the waffles, adding sprinkles on them and even an extra amount of whipped cream. Before you can take out your wallet to pay, Mr. Kim shakes his head violently. “No, it’s on the house. You have never brought a friend here before. Enjoy the waffles, okay?” With red cheeks you nod at the kind man, taking the waffles from him and walking to a free table with Niki.

“So, you never brought a friend here, huh?” You can hear the teasing tone in Nikis’ voice, but you are too ashamed to look at him. It’s not like you never wanted to bring a friend here, but it just never felt right. Friends weren’t really a permanent thing in your life, having had too many bad experiences with them. And whenever you had a friend that you started to trust, you always felt like they would destroy this magical festival for you. But with Niki it was different. You just felt so comfortable with Niki, so understood. Niki is different than anyone you have ever met, and after his confession earlier, you just knew that you had to share this with him. You had to share this beautiful place with him.

“I never really had friends. Whenever I did, they only seemed to like me because my dad is somewhat known. They wanted to get some fame as well. So, I just stopped looking for friends. You are the first person I feel like could actually like me for me, you know.”

Niki smiles at you, for the thousands time today, taking a bite out of his waffle. “I already do like you for you, Y/n. And I really appreciate it that I am the first person you bring here. But I just want to say that, wow, these waffles are amazing. I feel like I’ve been kissed by an angel, like I am at the beach hearing the waves softly crash against the sand, like I am floating on a cloud, like I am a changed man.” You laugh at his words, holding your stomach and tipping your head back. Niki watches you, eyes trained on your face, and he realizes how much he loves being the reason for your laughter. “Like I want to marry this waffle, that’s how good it is. And then we have little waffle children running around, spreading sugary joy all over the world. And then me and this waffle will watch those waffle children grow up and have waffle children themselves. We will sit on the porch, in little rocking chairs and watch our waffle grandchildren play in the front yard.” Tears are flooding down your cheeks from laughing at his words. There are people staring at the two of you, but you don’t care, you just live in this moment together.

“And that cloud looks like a cat eating ice cream.” The sun is setting painting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow, as you stop at the top of the fairy’s wheel. This is your third time riding the fairy’s wheel, not caring about the amount of money you are spending on it. You subconsciously hug the unicorn plushie Niki has won you earlier- after at least twelve tries- tighter to your chest as you look up at the sky with him.

“Oh, and that cloud looks a big popcorn bucket.” Rolling your eyes at the boy sitting beside you, you can’t help the grin that creeps itself up on your lips.

“You are so bad at this, Niki.” He just chuckles at your comment, eyes focusing on you again. “It’s not a popcorn bucket it is obviously a dragon drinking a cup of Pepsi.”

“Okay, this is the first one that I cannot see, Y/n. How is this a dragon? It is just a big blob, nothing more.” Gasping at his words, you shake your head in disappointment at his lack of creativity.

“How could you say that about Mr. Dragon. Has he done anything to you? No, he hasn’t. He is just enjoying his Pepsi, and you are insulting him like that. I cannot believe you right now.” Niki tips his head back in laughter, wiping at his eyes.

“Thank you.”, he says between laughs, voice raised a few pitches higher than normally.

“For what?”, you ask him.

“For this day, Y/n. This has been the coolest day ever, and all that thanks to you. I never had so much fun, I never laughed so much and so hard. I swear my belly and my jaw hurt from laughing so much.” There is this happiness, this pride, filling your heart as you hear his words. You have never felt this way before, never had someone tell you such sweet words, and thanking you for company. You swallow your tears, blinking a few times up into the sky, before you can face him again.

“You’re welcome, Niki. I hope that you can have many, many more days like this one in the future with a lot of people all over the world. Because that is what you deserve.”

“Well, I hope I can have many more days like this as well with you, right? After this day we won’t just pretend we never met, we won’t just become strangers, right? This day will lead to an amazing friendship that will last until we are old and gray, right?” You smile at him, scooting over to him and softly taking his hand in yours.

“Of course, Niki. I won’t let you leave. You are stuck with me now.” You grin brightly at him, squeezing his hand appreciatively.

“Oh, no. I take back what I said. You scare me.”

“Nope.”, you say. “No take backs, Niki. This is only the beginning.”

“So, if you are that confident in our friendship? Will you do the photo shoot with me now?”

“Those photos are amazing, Y/n. God, I am so proud of you. You did everything just as I imagined it to be, even better actually. I knew you could do it.” Your father wraps you into a tight hug, holding you against him and a bright, proud grin on your face. Pride fills your entire body as you hear those words out of your father’s mouth. You have been editing those pictures, making them perfect, for the past few days, night and day, and knowing that it turned out amazing, was worth all the stressful hours.

“Thanks dad, but I don’t want to have all the credit. Without my muse I wouldn’t have been able to pull everything off.”

Your dad breaks the hug, giving you a stern- not serious- look. “Your muse, huh? I heard Niki and you got really cozy at the autumn festival. You can’t fool me; I have eyes and ears everywhere. I tell you, before anything he becomes your boyfriend, I want to formally meet him first. I want to know everything about this boy and then I will decide if he can date my precious daughter.”

“Dad!”, you complain, cheeks redder than the tomatoes your dad is growing in his garden. “It’s not like that. I mean not yet. We are friends, dad.”

“Yeah, but if, sweetheart, if he becomes your boyfriend, I want to meet him first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let’s just get out these photos.” With one last smile in your dad’s direction, you walk back to your desk, the pictures of Niki still on your screen. But before you can do anything, your phone ring tone breaks the silence in the room. Smiling as you see Nikis’ contact, you open the text message he sent you, seeing a picture of him at a zoo somewhere in Japanese with the caption ‘Enjoying the little things right now and thinking about you. I’m already counting down the days till we meet again’.

Holding the phone to your chest, you can’t help but grin like a lovesick idiot. Life is great, it’s hard and exhausting sometimes, but it’s great. And you can’t wait to continue enjoying the small little moments it gives you with Niki by your side.

Bonus

“Only three more days.” Nikis’ voice says through the speaker of your phone as you look at the screen of your laptop.

In three days, it will be the fifth time you and Niki will attend the autumn festival in your town. It’s already been five years since you met, five years since you grew up together and five years since you started to enjoy the little things in life together. It still feels surreal to you, having him by your side for such a long time now.

“Three more days till I see you again, Y/n.” The excitement in his voice is evident and it warms your heart, fills it with so much appreciation for the boy on the other side of the planet. Niki is currently in Paris, attending his last fashion week for this year, and you are in Thailand, one of the countries you always wanted to visit. You have taken thousands of pictures, talked to hundreds of people and learned so much about their culture. It has been a dream, these past few weeks, and you wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in this world. But part of you misses your home, misses your dad, and misses Niki. You had one of the greatest times of your life, but you are ready to go home again.

“I can’t wait to see you.”, you say after a while, closing the laptop, grabbing your phone and sitting down outside on your little balcony. “God, I’ve missed you so much, you don’t even know.”

“Aw.”, he coos. “Are you getting emotional my sweet tiny little baby.”

“I take my words back.” You can hear his laughter through the phone, smiling at the familiar noise that became your favorite sound over the years. “But all jokes aside, I really do miss you, Niki.”

“I miss you too.”, he says, sighing softly after his words. “But it’s only three more days, right? We did five months before, so we can easily do three more days.”

“Those three days feel longer than the five months though.” You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself, slightly shaking in the cold evening wind. It’s times like this that you long for him the most, that you wish he was by your side. Traveling has shaped you in so many ways, helped you find who you really are and taught you so much about the world, but it also made you realize how much you value having a fixed place to stay, to settle down. It made you realize what you really want.

“What are you thinking about right now?”, Niki asks you, shifting from his position on his hotel bed. You can almost imagine him, messy hair, make up stains still left on his face and his SpongeBob pajamas on.

“You, I’m thinking about you. And us. Our future.”, you answer him honestly, eyes raised up into the deep blue sky.

“This is only the beginning.”, he whispers, voice low and deep with emotions. “This is only the beginning of our forever together, of our hygge together. It’s crazy to think about that sometimes, you know. The fact that we came into each other’s lives at a time where we needed it the most, and the fact that we made it so far. It’s crazy, but so indescribably beautiful. I can’t wait for these three days to pass by Y/n. And I can’t wait for every single day to pass by with you by my side. This is only our beginning, Y/n. And I already know where we can start together.” Niki stops his sentence, taking a small breath, making you anticipate his next words. “In Denmark.”

#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #jake enhypen x reader #nishimura niki imagine #nishimura riki #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura niki #enhypen niki #enhypen niki x reader #enhypen niki imagines #enhypen niki fluff #niki nishimura imagine

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 8 months

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Purple Houses and Paranorman

(Single!Dad Eddie Munson x Single!Mom Reader)

Summary: Eddie asks you and Oliver to go to a special screening of Paranorman with him and Charlotte. WK: 3.9K

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Warnings: Basically none, modern AU, mention of a dead family member (readers aunt), There’s like one second where Eddie is checking reader out and his thoughts get a little carried away, readers son has a speech delay, reader is implied to be alternative and have tattoos but I don’t talk about it much besides her outfits, fluff fluff and moreee fluff. But as always my blog is 18+MNDI

A/N: So I might have gotten a tiny bit carried away talking about the house, it wasn’t something I originally planned out but it kind of just came to me as I was writing, I’d like for them to all live there together eventually. I’m trying to make it a lil slow burn but I suck at that so hard so we will see how much longer I can go without making them kiss LOL. Also I said these were blurbs and this is almost 4K sooo Oopsie. As always my requests for these guys are open and feedback is greatly appreciated.💜💚

Your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, the contact reading “Eddie🎸🦇” you smiled to yourself before pushing the green accept button.

“Helloooo Edward, what can I do for you on this fine autumn morning?”

“Hey weirdo” He let out a laugh, one you’ve grown to find comfort in over these last few weeks. “What are you and Oli up to today? The theater is doing a special showing of Paranorman and I was wondering if you guys would wanna go with us later?”

“What’s in it for me?” You joked.

“Ummm you get to spend time with your bestfriend and do something Halloween related, which I know you love.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re my bestfriend.” You laughed, knowing he definitely had become the best friend you have but still wanting to fuck with him a little.

“Me? I’m talking about Charlotte, you are her new self proclaimed bestfriend and also you do her hair better than me, apparently. Can’t believe my own daughter likes you more than me.” He sighed dramatically and you could practically see him faux fainting.

“Awww I love her, she’s my new bestfriend too. Verdict is still out on her dad though.”

“WOW I can’t believe you would betray me like this, I thought you loved me.”

“Don’t worry, you’re better at playing monster than me apparently sooo I think we are even. What time do you want to go?”

“I guess we can call it even, for now. How about around two? Gives us a few hours to get the goblins fed and ready to go.”

Jokingly teasing each other had become the norm for you and Eddie, easily falling into flirty banter since the day you met.

“Okay, perfect.”

“Want to meet us there? Or I can come get you guys and we can ride together.”

Something you had noticed about Eddie is how perceptive he was. He picked up early on that you’d avoid going places you’d have to drive especially if you’d never been there before, which in those first few weeks was essentially everywhere. So he always offered to pick you and Oliver up whenever you all did something together.

“Could you pick us up? If that’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t okay, babe.” Babe, was something he only started calling you recently but it made you giddy every time.

He was also constantly reassuring you that he didn’t mind helping you when you needed it. He knows how hard it is to do this alone so he was always offering to do anything to make things easier on you. Even if it was something as small as picking you and your son up for a movie. At first you declined his help every chance he offered, used to doing things alone, not wanting to burden him. But he’s told you over and over how he doesn’t mind, that it makes him happy to be able to help you.

So who could blame you if you had developed a not so small crush on him? You tried not to, but he was all kind gestures, big brown eyes and chunky jewelry. So how could you not? It’s not your fault it was like he was your dream come to life. You weren’t positive but you were pretty sure he felt the same. Hugs started lingering just a little longer than they should have, hands started brushing when you followed behind your rowdy children on evening walks, the cute little pet names he would always call you that made your stomach flip, the kisses on the cheek you had started giving each other.

So after you got Oli ready you gave him his tablet and spent a little extra time getting ready. You did your hair in your favorite style and added just a tiny bit more makeup than usual, both turned out perfect. But now you were standing in front of your open closet, staring at it like the perfect outfit was just going to jump out at you.

The October chill had set in throughout Hawkins, the days still sunny but the breeze cold, not quite bone chilling like in mid December, but cold enough that you needed some layers. You were also going to be sitting in a movie seat for two hours even if they were the reclining ones you didn’t want to spend that amount of time sitting in jeans.

After trying on several outfits, you ended up deciding on a black long sleeve skater dress, the neckline scooped just enough to make your boobs look nice. You layered some thigh high socks and leg warmers before pulling on your boots. You grabbed a plain zip-up just in case you got cold in the theater and gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you looked good, and you hoped Eddie would think so too. He had never seen you this dolled up, usually wearing more comfortable clothes and simpler make-up.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, a mixture of emotions going through you. Excitement to see Eddie was in the forefront, but the nervousness was lingering in the background. Are you reading things wrong? Is it smart to get involved with someone that your son has already started to form an attachment to? You took a deep breath, checking your hair one last time before shaking your head as if it would erase those feelings like an etch-a-sketch, willing yourself to enjoy something for once.

When you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be you got on Oliver’s shoes and jacket before grabbing your purse and taking him outside on the porch to wait on the swing. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the porch you spent many summers drinking lemonade with your aunt. The various wind chimes that hung moons and stars and zodiac symbols chime in the mid October breeze.

You loved this house, it belonged to your late aunt who left it to you in her will when she died. It was beautiful but eccentric, kind of like your aunt herself. It stuck out among the many suburban style houses in your neighborhood. It was a late 1800s Victorian style home, with beautiful arches and various types of windows, a wrap-around porch, and a beautiful backyard with a garden that your aunt cared for until the day she couldn’t anymore. You and Eddie had planted pumpkins back there with the kids in her honor, she’s the reason you love them so much after all. They were almost ready to be harvested and carved, a Halloween movie on in the background and the smell of pumpkin seeds baking in the oven.

But what really made the house stand out was that your aunt had it painted a deep purple color, the shutters and roof black, matching the porch. The door was black but it had a beautiful stained glass window in the middle of it, depicting the same kind of crescent moon and stars that dangled from the wind chimes. Inside there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living and family room that held a mixture of her old and your new furniture, and your favorite part, the kitchen. It had been updated since the house was built, but still held a vintage feel. Your aunt had the cabinets and drawers all painted the same purple as the outside of the house, wallpaper with those same moons and stars adorned the walls. The only modern thing about it being the fact that she had replaced all the appliances with shiny new ones.

It was a lot of space, too much for just you and Oliver. But you couldn’t bring yourself to sell it, some of your happiest memories were spent here. So you decided you’d take this opportunity and get the fresh start you’ve been needing. You didn’t have much keeping you back home anyways. You and your mom weren’t particularly close but when she found out your aunt left you everything, not just the house, but her money too, she was furious.

Now that you’ve settled you know it was the right choice. Oli started school and despite his struggles with communication he was thriving in class, you got a job at a local diner where you made pretty decent tips, you had this beautiful house, and last but not least you had Eddie and Charlotte.

•

A large smile stretched across Eddie’s face when he turned down your long driveway and saw you and your son sitting on the porch. He loves your house, he used to drive by it when he would deal to the rich kids in highschool and always admired it. But when you stood up his jaw actually dropped. He had never seen you in a dress before, you always looked beautiful but right now you were fucking radiant.

He got out of his SUV to help you get Oliver’s seat in and you were even more breathtaking up close.

“Wow. You look… wow.” Eddie shamelessly lets his eyes wander your form for a moment, his cheeks turning red when he reaches that little sliver of skin between your socks and your dress.

“Thanks, babe. You’re not so bad yourself, I guess.” You repeated his words from earlier back to him and he cackled.

“Ha ha veeerry funny, brat.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Reaaaal mature, nerd.”

“Hi Eddie!” Oli ran over to hug Eddie’s legs and smiled triumphantly, having recently gotten his new friend's name down.

“Hey little dude! How’s a going?” He gave your son a wide smile while he affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Where Char?” He tilted his head to the side, more concerned with where his friend was than answering Eddie’s question.

“She’s in the car buddy, you wanna to say hi to her while I get your seat in?”

He just nodded, grabbing your hand and dragging you around to the other side of the car where Charlotte was, knowing he’s not supposed to walk down the driveway without holding hands.

Eddie couldn’t help but watch you walk away, internally groaning when he saw that same sliver of skin from the back. The dress is long enough to cover your ass, but not by much and he can’t help but imagine flipping the skirt of it up and-

“Eddie? Are you gonna put the seat in the car or are you just gonna stand there and ogle me?”

You couldn’t help but tease him when you turned around and he was just standing there holding the car seat with his mouth hanging open.

“Huh? Oh! Uh, yeah- yeah sorry.” His face turned beat red and he turned his back to put the seat in to try and hide it, but you saw it. At least you know he thinks you look cute, mission accomplished.

Once the kids were all buckled and ready to go you got in the passenger seat and flashed him a smile. He turned towards you and reached under your seat, his leather jacket covered arm going across your thighs where your dress rode up. You tried to act like your heart wasn’t beating a thousand miles a minute whenever you were this close to him, hopefully succeeding.

But Eddie caught the tiniest little squeak that came out of the back of your throat when he first touched you. Feeling satisfied with himself that he had any kind of affect on you because you made him feel like he was in highschool with a crush on a girl he didn’t have a chance with. But you were constantly showing him that maybe he did have a chance with you.

He pulled a bag from under your seat, plopping it in your lap.

“Me and the princess stopped at the dollar store and got your guys’ favorite candy. I figured since the movie theater candy is like crazy expensive we could get the candy before and get popcorn and drinks at the theater.” He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal that he remembered you and your son’s favorite treats. But to you, it was. Every single time you saw him he gave you another reason to fall for him.

“Wow, thank you Eds. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You smiled at him sweetly, the kind of smile that made him feel like he was going to melt into a puddle in the driver's seat.

“Of course Darlin’ anything for my favorite dude and my favorite girl.” He smiled back at you, the kind of smile that reminds you of sunshine that you wanted to bottle up for a rainy day.

He put the car in reverse and of course he had to put his hand on the headrest of the passenger seat while he pulled out. You just wanted to tilt your head up and kiss his wrist where his jacket rode up. You wanted to be close to him so badly, you’ve been trying to find the courage to ask him to hang out, just the two of you but you keep psyching yourself out. You didn’t have anyone to watch Oli anyways and if he wanted that he never hinted at it. Always suggesting things for you to do with the kids. Which you love, having someone think of both of you the way Eddie does is something you’ve never really had. But what you wouldn’t give for just a few hours alone with him, no kids, just being yourselves. But maybe he didn’t want that?

Eddie glanced over at you as he turned onto your street, you were staring out the window, chewing your lip that way you always did when you were thinking hard about something. Usually something that was upsetting you, so he did what any good friend would do and reached across the center counsel to grab your hand.

You whipped your head around at the feeling of his larger hand engulfing yours.

“You okay?” He ran his thumb over the top of it before intertwining your fingers. He had never held your hand before, and you felt your insides grow warm at the feeling. His palm was surprisingly soft against yours, but his fingers were calloused from years of playing guitar and working on cars. The juxtaposition of rough and smooth was more soothing than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got lost in thought for a second. Thank you for checking on me.”

You smiled at him sweetly, squeezing his hand in yours. Expecting him to let go after he knew you were alright but he just held on tighter. One hand on the wheel, the other in yours, hidden from the kids by the center console.

“DADDYYYYY! I want an icee, a blue oneeee!” Charlotte said in a sing-song voice.

“Okay baby, we can get a blue icee.” Eddie smiled at her in the rearview mirror and she clapped her hands in triumph.

“Oli, do you want an icee?” His eyes moved over to the other side of the backseat as he addressed your son.

“Yuuppp! Blueeee!” He said in the same sing song tone as his friend. He was always parroting her and saying things she said back to her and it warms your heart. He’s come so far with his communication skills since he started school and started spending so much time with Charlotte, you couldn’t be more proud of him.

Eddie held your hand up until he parked the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Squeezing it before placing a quick and sneaky kiss on the back of your hand, giving you one of those goofy smiles you love so much and exiting the car like he didn’t just make a bomb filled with butterflies go off in your stomach.

You got the kids out of their seats and walked into the movie theater, Charlotte and Oliver insisting on being in the middle so they could hold hands too. Eddie showed the guy at the ticket booth the barcode on his phone that had the tickets on it since he insisted on paying for everyone.

“Icee! Icee! Blue!” Oli jumped up and down as he pointed at the machine spinning the different colored slushy ice.

“Yeah baby, I’m gonna get you an Icee.” You chuckled at how cute his excitement was, letting him drag you toward the concession stand with Eddie and Charlotte in tow.

You ordered two small and two large blue Icees and a large popcorn. You go to pull your wallet out of your purse to pay since Eddie bought the tickets but you feel a large hand on yours, pushing it back down.

He already had his card out before you even open your purse, handing it to the woman behind the counter.

“Eddie… you paid for the tickets, it's the least I can do.”

“Nope. My treat.” A triumphant smile spread across his lips and he sent you a wink.

He always did this, paid for you, drove you, brought you little things he saw in the store that reminded him of you or Oli. It’s not like you didn’t have money, your aunt left you plenty of it and you had your job at the diner. But you knew Eddie did well for himself, he had told you some about his childhood, how he grew up with very little and he didn’t want his daughter to ever feel like he did as a kid. So after he finally graduated he and his uncle opened their own mechanic shop. It was fairly successful, their lower prices and more efficient work times drawing in and catering to the less wealthy people of Hawkins.

“Dada I have to go potty!” Charlotte tugged on Eddie’s hand, pouting toward the bathroom sign that was on the way to your designated theater.

“Alright sweets, let’s go potty. Oli and your bestie will go get our seats.”

She shook her head and pouted, looking at you with big round brown eyes, asking without verbalizing, something you’ve became an expert at understanding after having Oliver. Ever since you had all started going on outings together more often she had been asking you to take her to the bathroom. She had hardly ever gone in the girls room, always having to have her dad take her, so after you took her that first time, she always asked.

“Do you want me to take you potty honey?” You smiled at her sweetly, titling your head toward the bathroom.

“Yes! Please! I like going to the girl potty room!”

“Alright little dude, looks like it’s you and me with the snacks and the seats. They have lady business to attend to.” He grabbed the drink carrier from your hand, guiding Oli to walk in front of him into the bright colored double doors that led to dimly lit theater.

You stood outside the stall while Charlotte used the restroom, “standing guard” as she called it.

“Have you ever seen Paranorman before?” You asked her as you helped her wash her hands.

“No but my daddy said it’s a lot like Coraline and I love Coraline so I hope I will like this one too!” She smiled at you in the mirror.

“I’m sure you will, Oli loves it!” You helped her dry her hands before leading her out of the bathroom and into the theater to find the boys.

“Mommmmyyyy! Sit!” Oliver patted the seat on his left, signaling for you to sit down next to him. Charlotte sat to his right and to her right sat Eddie.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sit by him before you even got here. But he felt like he was a world away with two reclining seats between you, it made you miss the old movie seats, at least then you’d be close enough to reach behind the kids to hold his hand over their heads. You missed his hand in yours the minute he let go, it still felt empty now even as you held the large cup filled with sugary blue slush in your hand.

The movie went as smoothly as it could’ve with two five year olds. You had to shush them both more than a few times and twenty minutes in, Oliver had to go to the bathroom, Eddie took him, he liked going in the boys bathroom just as much as Char liked going in the girls.

When it ended you corralled the kids back into the car, Eddie offering to drive through McDonald’s on the way to your house to get the kids happy meals and they cheered.

The ride was filled with small talk, jokes, and all four of you singing along to different songs on your playlist because Eddie even let you pick the music in his car. He never let anyone pick the music, it didn’t hurt that you had good taste.

When you were a few minutes from your house, just like before Eddie reached over to grab your hand. You took it instantly, intertwining your fingers and looking over at him with a shy smile.

“I had a lot of fun today, thanks for coming with us.” He glanced over at you at a stop sign, his smile sweet and his eyes filled with affection.

“I did too, thank you for inviting us. Next time I’m paying though.” You ran your thumb along his, the soft gesture contradicting the teasing tone in your voice.

“Yeah, we will see about that sweetheart.” He sent you a wink as he turned onto your street, giving your hand one last squeeze before getting out of the car to help you with the seat.

He got Oliver and his seat out of his car, you grabbed your son's hand and he held onto the car seat as he walked you a few feet to your door. He sits the seat down on the porch before turning to Oli and asking him for a high five, he happily obliged, even offering to bump knuckles with him in return.

“I really did have fun today, I love hanging out with you guys, it’s nice… to have someone else to do things with.” Eddie rocked on the balls of his feet with a bashful look on his face.

“It is nice, I’m glad we have you guys. I love spending time with you, both of you.” You were sure the smile on your face was lovesick and dopey but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. “The pumpkins are almost ready to harvest, would you guys want to come over and carve them next weekend? We can put a Halloween movie on, make some popcorn, make a whole thing of it.”

“I’d love that, and I’m sure she would too. It’s a date.” His eyes widen as he realizes his choice of words and you can tell he's about to correct himself so you cut him off.

“It’s a date.” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug that he immediately reciprocates, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. You give him a final squeeze before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Eddie, get home safe.”

He was beat red with a flustered look on his face, you had kissed him on the cheek a few times now, but something about this felt different, more intimate.

“Goodnight sweetheart, sleep tight little dude!!” He waved at Oli before giving your forearm a squeeze and walking back towards his car. You sigh as you watch him drive away, knowing you’ll be counting down the days until next weekend.

Taglist: @comic-harley @yujyujj @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @bmunson86 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @sheneedsrocknroll92 @melodymunson

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagines #Eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #being weird is cool #Dolly writes

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

So, here's a short excerpt for WIP Wednesday (963 words)! Thank you for everyone who followed my new writing blog, the response has been so unbelievable.

Trigger Warning: Discussion of parental death

Original Prompt Fill

1st Shared Segment

-----

IKnowYourSecrets: hey

IKnowYourSecrets: I know this isnt something weve done before

IKnowYourSecrets: you said you got a cell for your last bday

IKnowYourSecrets: can I call you?

IKnowYourSecrets: heres my number XXX-XXX-XXXX

-xXPolarisXx-: is everything ok?

-xXPolarisXx-: dont answer that

-xXPolarisXx-: obv not

-xXPolarisXx-: my phones in my room brb

Danny ran up stairs to grab his phone and return to the computer before anyone could close out of his chat. He checked the number and dialed it, closing out of everything and logging out as the call connected.

“Tim?” he asked as soon as the ringing stopped. “What’s happened?”

“Danny? I… this is weird talking like this.” Tim’s voice was rough and Danny couldn’t tell if that was from emotion or just how he normally sounded.

Danny laughed a little. “Yeah. It is. Give me a sec, let me get to my room and I’ll shut the door. Give us some privacy.”

“I… yeah. I might need a few minutes.”

“Are you okay?”

Tim made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob and Danny all but ran up the stairs. “No, not really. Um. My mom’s dead.”

“What?!" What was the appropriate response to something like this? Sometimes he wished he had Jazz's way with words. "What happened?”

“She and dad were in the Caribbean." Tim let out a huff. "I didn’t even know they were in the Caribbean.”

Danny made a noise to indicate he was listening, but waited for Tim to continue.

“There was a local villain named Obeah man. He captured them and held them ransom. Gave them some water to drink at some point, but… it was poisoned. By the time Batman got there, it was too late. Mom died.” Tim gave another half-hysterical laugh. “And my dad is in a coma. He may never wake up.” His voice trailed off.

Danny swallowed. How does anyone respond to news like that? “I’m so sorry, Tim. How are you holding up? What’s going to happen now?”

“The funeral is in two days. Bruce is organizing it. And I’m going to stay with him, I guess. He said he’d be happy to foster me until my dad gets better.”

“Shit, Tim. Text me during the funeral if you need to.”

“I might take you up on that. You won’t mind?”

“Of course not. Every 5 seconds if you need to.”

“Distract me. What’s going on in your life? I don’t want to think about any of this anymore.”

“Oh, uh, all right. Are you sure?”

“Please, Danny.”

“If you change your mind, interrupt me anytime.” Danny chewed his lip. What on earth could he talk about in response to news like that? The test he had in English last week? That sounded so trite. “I did start karate training with…” he trailed off before he could say his mom. “Anyway, it’s going all right. I’ve basically only been taught basic moves. I only get lessons two or three times a month so it’s slow going.”

Tim’s voice was still shaky, but he seemed to latch onto the topic to Danny’s relief. “You really have to give it your all if you want to succeed. Have you learned the basic stances and things?”

“Some, I think.”

“Hold those positions. Stand in your room and just hold them for ten minutes at a time. And practice the same punch over and over. Even if your m—” Tim’s voice caught and he changed course “—instructor can’t make it. Would you be allowed to sign up for classes? Get something more consistent?”

“We don’t have the money.” Danny bit back the embarrassment he felt at admitting that. Tim was rich-rich and never had to worry about things like bills. “Ghost hunting doesn’t really pay. My parents are at least good engineers so they can fix our own appliances and vehicles. Sometimes dad or mom will fix stuff for the neighbors for some extra money.”

Tim hummed in understanding and didn’t push the issue. “How did they even get into ghosts to begin with?”

“If we ever end up in the same place, you are not allowed to ask that directly to my parents. Don’t mention ghosts at all. They won’t stop talking for hours. As for how they got into it… Dad’s always believed in the supernatural. He could’ve just as easily started tracking big foot or the Loch Ness Monster. But he met mom in university and she was stuck on ghosts. Dragged him in, too. And he’s obsessive. Once he decides on something, that’s it.

“They were both studying the supernatural and had to decide what to focus on for their doctoral research. Mom’s hated ghosts since she was a teenager. Apparently she and a friend were dared to go into a haunted house one Halloween. She doesn’t talk about it much, but her friend died that night. She blames the ghosts and has dedicated her life to hunting them ever since.”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Wow. It almost makes sense with that back story.”

Danny snorted. “Ghosts aren’t real. I dunno what killed her friend, but it wasn’t a ghost. Wish they’d decided to hunt Bigfoot instead.”

“Really? Why do you say that?”

Danny looked out his window and stared at the setting sun. “If they were hunting bigfoot, we’d probably go camping more often. And I like camping. You get the best views of the stars that way.”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“That’s like asking who my favorite Star Trek character is! There’s too many to choose. But do you know the folk history of Polaris? It’s why I chose my username.” Danny talked to Tim about the stars and space until Alfred called him away for dinner. They made plans to talk online again later.

-----

Now, I have a question for y'all. I was planning on finishing the entire work then publishing on a once a week basis until finished (or twice a week if I had more chapters than I expect). I've got the first chapter mostly done, just need to rewrite one section and change a few lines elsewhere. I also have the next 1.5 chapters mostly done on a first draft. I could start posting now, but I can't guarantee a posting schedule and I'll probably have to take a hiatus or two as I plan to get a new job and move sometime in the next few months.

So my question, do you want me to post now or wait? It'll probably be several months if not a year before I finish depending on how long I take and how many other projects catch my eye.

-----

In other news, the creator of the original prompt started their own fill, too! If you read mine, I am requiring you to check theirs as well because it is amazing 💕. Tumblr Link and AO3 Link

Tag List

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen

I removed the names of some people who requested a tag back in November but didn’t interact with the last snippet I shared. Since it’s been so long, I wasn’t sure if you were still interested. I’ll be more than happy to add anyone else, re-add anyone I took off, or take off anyone who doesn’t want future tags! Or start a separate list just for after there’s an AO3 link. Just let me know!

#dp x dc #my writing #bring me home fic #danny fenton #tim drake #first phone call #not a happy day #but theyll get through it

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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year

Text

The Curse of Sight

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Time Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Word Count: 2690

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44788813

[Part 2]

When Wes Weston's parents divorced, they decided that he should stay with his dad in Amity Park. After all, small town Amity is much safer than big city Gotham, where his mother was moving in order to accept a promotion with Wayne Enterprises. Wes, in order to still see his mom, would visit her in Gotham every summer and every other holiday.

Of course, Amity soon became more dangerous than Gotham could even dream of thanks to the hell portal in the Fenton's basement that killed and bore Phantom, but whatever. No one ever listened to Wes anyway, and he learned to shut his mouth when Sam Manson shoved him against the lockers and asked him what he thought would happen to Danny Fenton if the Ghost Investigation Ward ever believed his “crazy as shit imagination.”

She was still playing the "Wes is crazy" game, even when defending her boyfriend.

Still, she was right. Danny was safer without him trying to convince Amity's negligent populace that Danny was Phantom. (Even if it absolutely drove him mad that no one but him was capable of making the connection between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.) So he shut up. He deleted his conspiracy theory blog and even asked Tucker Foley to wipe all remnants of its existence from the internet, a request which his classmate happily obliged. He even said, "I'm glad you're moving on from this whole Fenton-Phantom obsession, Wes."

Professional gaslighters, the lot of them.

So yes, Wes had thoroughly given up on the superhero ID evidence schemes by the time he left to visit his mom after his freshman year of high school. He had made peace with it and settled back into reading mystery novels or movies and solving the case before the protagonists in place of proving Phantom’s ID.

When he came to Gotham, he had to get a new library card so he could keep up with his mystery novel hyperfixation. He happens to take just a little too long in the library, so by the time he has a nice stack of books to check out, it's dark outside.

Great, walking back to my mother's apartment in the dark in Gotham. Seems super safe.

Well, Gotham is no Amity, right?

So he marches on and tries not to be too resigned when he's inevitably yanked into an alleyway even though the apartment is only three blocks from the library.

Classic.

It's just a man with a gun, his face obscured with a hood and a red bandana. He's literally nothing compared to Pariah Dark or Undergrowth or Dr. Spectra or even the fucking Box Ghost.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want any cash I have, right?"

"Kid, shut the hell up and fork over your money," says the man, and Wes sighs. The mugger didn't even wave around his gun or give an impassioned speech about stealing someone's pelt.

"Original," Wes intones. "But I'm fifteen. And everyone knows young people don't carry cash anymore. I guess I could give you my mom's emergency credit card that she gave me, but she did say it was for emergencies only, so."

The man just stares at him. Wes shuffles uncomfortably.

"Oh! And I could just cancel the card before you use it," Wes adds into the silence.

"You don't consider being held at gunpoint an emergency?" the mugger finally asks, looking uncertain.

"Should I?" Wes wonders aloud. Sam had been much scarier when she threatened him.

"You said you're fifteen? And you don't have a Gothamite accent?" the man offers his reasoning, as if it's any kind of logical. He'd fit in well in Amity for that trait alone.

"Gothamites always think they're so superior." He has to roll his eyes. "Guns aren't that scary. You know what is scary? Your whole town being dragged into the dimension of death for three days. This is nothing. This city is nothing." You are nothing. He knows better than to say that last part, though;

"Christ, kid, you're crazy." The man shook his head and pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Just-- give me the watch you're wearing."

Wes sighs again, "Whatever, I'm not fighting for it." It was literally just a cheap Walmart watch. But just as he goes to unlatch the watch from his wrist, a caped vigilante swings down from the rooftops and kicks the mugger straight into the pavement.

The mugger doesn't get back up.

"Thanks, Red Robin," Wes dutifully says, even though he's pretty sure the man was A) not really that much of a threat, and B) going to have serious brain trauma now.

"It's no problem," the vigilante says. "You're a little young to be out this late, though."

Well, that's rude. It's only 7:00 pm. The only reason it's dark at all is thanks to Gotham's pollution problem. (Maybe they should let Poison Ivy just go fucking feral, like Sam suggests.)

Wes doesn't say that. Instead he says: "Didn't you start crime fighting when you were, like, twelve?"

Red Robin sputters, but Wes continues, "And the first Robin couldn't have been more than nine. I have never picked a fight with hardened criminals." Do ghosts count as criminals? Surely not. What right does Wes have to dictate the morals of being from a completely different dimension? "So I think I'm doing better than you in the safety department, no offense."

Well, doing better in Gotham. But the Justice League doesn't need to know about Amity Park, so he'll leave that part out.

"I-- just--" Red Robin struggles for a second, and then clears his throat. "Why don't I escort you home?"

"I'm two blocks away, but thanks. And thanks again for the---" he waves to the unconscious mugger. Definitely brain damaged.

"Yeah, no problem." And then he grapples away.

Phantom's much cooler. Not that he'll ever say that in front of Danny, Sam, or Tucker. Or anyone from Amity.

He makes it safely home, even if he does pretend to not notice the Bat stalking him from above. And of course, once he recounts his tale to his mother, she freaks out that he'd been nearly mugged, and tries to ban him from doing anything in Gotham at all.

"Mom, I can't just stay inside the house all day. I refuse to spend my whole summer on Netflix." He wants to at least go sightseeing.

Her mouth goes into a thin line and her eyes are as fiery as her red hair.

"Fine," she says. "Then you can get a job."

His stomach drops, "What?"

"A job. My floor needs a new intern, and I found just the perfect person."

"No, Mom, you can't," he pleads. "A Wayne Enterprises job? I'll be known as a nepo-baby for life!"

"Well, too bad. You should have thought of that before being mugged."

"Almost mugged, Mom! Almost! Red Robin was there!" When he sees that this point is getting him nowhere, he switches tactics, "Mom, the Waynes are held hostage, like, every other week! Do you really want me in closer proximity to them?"

She lifts her chin and sniffs, "I'll be there to watch out for you. And an intern won't have any reason to be next to a Wayne, anyway."

He groans, "Mom, please. It's my summer vacation!"

"And you're my son. Discussion over. You start in two days."

He groans again, "Do I at least get paid? Or is Brucie Wayne like every other rich white dude out there?"

"Wes, sweetie, you're white--"

"But not rich," he grumbles.

"But yes, you'll be paid. Every position with Wayne Enterprises is paid."

He crosses his arms, "At least there's that, I guess."

His mom walks to him to hug him and kiss his forehead.

"I'll handle the paperwork tomorrow. Don't worry, you'll love it there!"

Well, spoiler alert: he doesn't.

He's basically a go-fer, fetching paper or ink or photos or files and most usually, lunch from across the street or donuts or coffee. Especially coffee. And his mom's coworkers kinda suck because hey, the Wayne's executive PR manager just hired her own kid for a coveted Wayne internship. No one likes the idea of someone being here who doesn't deserve it. So he is really sent on the most stupid, tedious errands possible for an intern.

He called it: he's the resident nepo-baby, beaten only by Brucie Wayne's very own brood of nepo-babies.

Suddenly, just letting that mugger fill him with hot lead doesn't look so bad. Maybe he would have become a ghost! Haunting Danny would have been fun. Or Ember and the others of her nature make it look fun, anyway.

The Fenton thermos part would probably be uncomfortable, though.

"This sucks," Wes mutters to himself, balancing three carrying cartons of Batbucks (Gotham's stupid parody of Starbucks since they have to be special and not like other girls in every aspect possible) coffee with just two arms, staring helplessly at the elevator call button in front of him.

"Need an assist?" calls a familiar voice, though Wes can't place from where.

"Yes, please!" Wes says gratefully, looking up at a face with blue eyes, black hair, and a familiar jawline.

Wait a second.

"Here, I'll get that for you," says the man, who is really more like a teenager, since it's goddamn Timothy Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises at just seventeen years old. "Going up, I assume?" he gives a charming laugh as he presses the up button, the kind one practices to perfection to ace media interviews and entertain the wealthy elite at galas.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Wes says, and takes the time to really study Drake-Wayne's eyes. And sure enough, he can recognize makeup covering up purple eyebags, just like he could on Fenton.

No. Please, Lord, I'll go back to church. Just don't let it be true.

"Yeah, no problem!" Drake-Wayne says, which really just seals the deal. Wes quietly dies inside, and also curses God. "I'm glad to be of service! Interns doing coffee runs really are doing God's work. And there's no need to call me sir. Tim will do just fine."

"Right... Tim," Wes says uncertainly. He kind of wants the elevator doors to open up and reveal a pitch black hole to drop into, but when the bell rings and the doors slide open, it's just the same ol' regular elevator it's always been. Damn.

So. The boss of this whole entire company is Red Robin. Makes sense, seems legit. He figured out that Plasmius was the mayor of Amity, too, didn't he? So why shouldn't all billionaires be playing dress up and fight crime or be the crime? What's stopping them all, really, when wealth is a superpower all on its own?

Wait, fuck. So. If Tim started out as a Robin when he was twelve-ish. And apparently billionaires are playing dress up. Then doesn't that mean...?

Oh, God. Couldn't he go one season without figuring out some superpowered person's secret identity? Is that too much to ask?

And of course, after figuring Tim and goddamn Brucie Wayne out, it's not so hard to see the correlations between the introduction of every other Wayne brat to the debut of each Robin.

He shakily steps into the elevator, "And how do you normally take your coffee?"

"With the maximum amount of espresso the barista can legally give me," is Tim's immediate answer.

Just like Danny.

And even worse, Tim steps into the elevator after him.

"What floor?" he asks, and Wes feels stupid. Obviously he was going to come in: why offer help at all if he wasn't going to push the floor button for Wes?"

"Uh, 73," Wes says.

Tim nods and presses the according number, and then takes one of the cartons from Wes as the doors closed.

Hopefully, any nerves that Wes is showing can be played off as the nerves an intern would get when they somehow get stuck with the Actual Big Boss™ , and then said Boss™ tries to take the shit they're carrying.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Wes says nervously. "I can carry them all, really!"

"Don't be silly," the literal co-CEO of his workplace says, as if Wes is in some fucked up Wattpad fic. "Again, where would any of us be without the ones who bring us coffee?"

"In bed?" Wes offers nervously. "Sleeping?"

Tim laughs, but his smile looks more like a smirk, "I guess you're right!"

"But seriously, I can carry the coffee. It's my job. And it'll look weird to everyone if they see the CEO helping me do my job."

"It's no trouble!" Tim insists, and then emphasizes his point by stealing the second carton in Wes's hands. "See? And my employees will be glad to see that I value every employee and am always willing to help out!"

Haha yeah, thought Wes. Too bad they'll never know just how much you help out, right?

Finally, the elevator dings, and Wes is released from one prison to another.

Thanks to the normal chaos of working at Wayne Enterprises, no one immediately notices that the co-CEO is carrying the bulk of the load. Instead, they all hone in on the scent of coffee, and they lunge.

"Thanks, Weston!" the few who are clear-minded enough to remember manners manage to say, even as most of them take their orders from a black haired wunderkind instead of a redheaded conspiracy theorist with the curse of Cassandra.

"Of course," Wes says nervously, and then finally some recognition starts sparking in the coffee-hungry eyes of exhausted PR employees who are always trying to handle some wacky Wayne hijinks.

"You're Weston," says his mom's assistant, Jade, pointing at Wes, and then slowly pointing to Tim, "and you're.... Oh, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Here, let me get that for you!" She yanks the empty cartons out of Tim's hands and shoved them into Wes's. Luckily, his carrying carton had been emptied, too, so he doesn’t get coffee spilled all over him and the floor. "Here, Weston, go dispose of these! Why were you making Mr. Drake-Wayne carry them? It's your job to get coffee, not our CEO's! He has better things to do. In fact, he probably needs to speak to Ms. Rolland."

Ms. Rolland as in his mother, who went back to her maiden name after the divorce.

"Now hold on," says Tim, his eyes alight with anger. "I offered to help Weston out, and I have no need to speak with Penny. I was just helping out one of my employees."

"Oh," says Jade, taking a step back. "Of- of course, sir! Weston, here, I'll take these cartons back. And sir, it's very kind of you to help out."

"I try," Tim says dryly. Wes notices he doesn't tell Jade to not call him sir. "You should probably get back to work."

"Of course, sir." And with the cartons in her hands, she scurries off in the direction of his mom's office, where she'll probably complain about how her kid made Jade look like a fool in front of the Actual Big Boss™.

"Uh, thanks," he tells Tim. "But you really didn't have to help me. It is my job, after all." Unwilling or not.

"It's no problem!" Tim repeats, and Wes wants to bang his head into a wall. "And hey, next time you do a coffee run, forget the others and just grab my order." His words are accompanied by a wink, and Wes is pretty sure it's supposed to be weird rich people humor, so he laughs, and pretends his heart isn’t beating into his ears.

"As much espresso as possible," he plays along, and Tim grins, pressing the call button for the elevator. It hasn't been summoned to another floor, so it opens right back up.

"Have a good day, Weston."

"It's just Wes, really," he corrects, and Tim smiles again.

"Wes," he says, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Cool cool cool. So now he just has to survive two months in Gotham while knowing the entire Batclan’s secret identities.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool....

#idk what this is it just spawned out of me #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom #dc #batman #red robin dc #tim drake #wes weston #wesley weston #is this wes weston x tim drake?#you decide!#one shot

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bvbygrl-writes · 5 months

Text

What Do I Know?

Pairing: Rich!Dilf!Sam Wilson x Black!College Student!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Your best friend ain’t tell ya her dad was a daddy.

A/N: This is a repost from my old blog since I haven't been able to write anything with how exhausting work is jtgktr enjoy! ♥

Warnings: Age gap, fingering, pussy eating, overstim, fucking

THIS FIC IS 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE. I CHECK EVERY ACCOUNT DO NOT PLAY WITH ME.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come home with you? This isn’t some small break like spring or that lil rinky dink one they give us in February.” (Y/n) asked, zipping the sides of her suitcase together. The long awaited summer break had come and after tiring, long hours of college classes all (Y/N) and Miyaki wanted to do was head home.

Well that was the original plot however it had clearly been lost. One phone call home and all of a sudden her mom and dad had magically ‘forgot’ to inform her that they had planned a trip for the two of them and the addition of her other three siblings (who somehow had been informed and never got left out..) to Europe. Although the girl was originally mad - rightfully so- she got over it really fast. So much so that she didn’t even bother letting her mom finish her little half assed excuse of how she thought she had texted her with the info and what not. This was her summer too and she was not going to start it off being upset over family drama.

However she still did feel bad about joining Miyaki on her trip home. The two girls had become fast friends during their few years at college and as the tall woman had said “We’ve been friends for years and ain’t been to each other’s houses once. You don’t think that’s a lil weird?” and she had to agree but it was one thing to spend the night at a friend’s house but to spend an entire summer? That was practically unheard of from where she came from! Nobody had that kind of money and food to be feeding an extra mouth for an entire three months.

“Yes girl, relax! I asked my dad today if it was chill for you to come and he agreed! Quit worrying and grab yo shit, the car is waiting out front.” The green eyed girl said, tossing her faux locs over her shoulders. Before (Y/n) could get in another worry or complaint she walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind her.

“That girl has some serious attitude problems, I’ll tell ya that…” the girl muttered to herself, rolling her suitcase in tow. She eyed the dorm one last time, smiling at the nice memories they had made this year before exiting, leaving the key under the mat for the next students that’d come to stay.

——————————

The first sign that Miyaki came from a different living situation from her was the shiny black Rolls-Royce parked in front of the housing part of campus. There was an older gentleman in a chauffeur outfit who put their bags in the car. She’d given her friend a look who gave her a confused one back before hopping in the car with her. Was this really not out of the ordinary for her? If this was just her car what would her house look like?

(Y/n) let out an audible gasp as the big black gates opened.

“You live in a gated community?!” she exclaimed, turning to her roommate. Miyaki’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Gated community? Sis….this is my house!” she let out a laugh as the (h/c) haired girl remained silent, looking at the large house in awe. How many people lived with Miyaki? To say she was stunned was an understatement. Miyaki was the most down to earth person she had met since going to college at Stonebrook. As the name suggested, it was a really prestigious and fancy school, tons of stuck up brats on daddy and mommy’s pay going to the school. (Y/n) had always been isolated by her peers since she was attending on a scholarship. They found it pathetic and pitied her which she despised. Why should she be looked down on for actually working to get into school?

Miyaki had never felt that way though. She treated (Y/n) as she treated everyone else…if not a little better (the girl had quite a mean streak) and was very quiet about her home life. But now as they walked up the quartz stairs and through the big marble columns, she could understand why.

“Dad, we’re home! Come meet my friend!” the girl’s voice echoed across the entire house causing her to snicker. ‘Does she ever use an inside voice?’

“I’ll be down in a sec, sweetheart!” a deep baritone voice called out. (Y/n) felt her heart race at the sound. The man’s voice went through her ears like silk. It was smooth but had a bit of a dark tinge to it, like a hint of cream in black coffee. She pulled out her phone, scrolling through her socials as she awaited the man’s presence. After what felt like forever a pair of footsteps came in their direction before parking in front of them. The woman almost dropped her phone at the sight in front of her.

In front of her was the finest man she had ever seen. Brown skin that had that healthy glow, prominent cheekbones, and a bit of facial hair around the mouth region. He was only in jeans and a t- shirt but the way it fit him? The shirt clung to his torso perfectly, the muscles of his upper arms constricted by the cuffs, toned chest. This was her father? She could’ve never guessed by how fit he was! Thighs so thick that she had to stop herself from letting her thoughts drift (more so than they already were..). But when he smiled? Her legs turned to jello. His smile was bright and blinding and he had the most charming gap. It seemed as time had slown down when she was looking at him and from the looks of it he wasn’t disappointed at what he was seeing either. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her midriff for just a little too long or the slight whistle he let out before covering it up with a cough.

“I’m Sam Wilson, Miyaki’s father. You must be (Y/n).” he said, holding a hand out for her to take. She gladly accepted it, shaking it with one hand as she placed the other one on top of both of them in a gentle way. The girl smiled back at him offering him a nod.

“Indeed I am! It’s so Nice to meet you Mr.Wilson and can I just say how thankful I am for you and Mrs.Wilson allowing me to stay with you guys for the summer. Especially with Miyaki’s short notice and all.” out of the corner of her eye she could see Miyaki roll her eyes at her sudden over-politeness towards her father and the way she had completely thrown her under the bus. Her attention was brought fully back to the man in question as he tightened his grip around her hand some.

“Mrs.Wilson? I’m not surprised Miyaki didn’t give you the details. It’ll only be the three of us here for the summer so in other words, there is no Mrs.Wilson.” he looked to the side a bit before turning back to face her, a smirk present on his face. “Also you don’t gotta be so formal, just Sam will do.” Miyaki cleared her throat impatiently causing the two to look to the side before laughing together. “Well it looks like Yaki is getting impatient so if you girls need anything, I’ll be around. Dinner is at 6.” the older man gave her a once over before walking off to what she could only assume was the kitchen.

“Girlll and you been hiding him from me because??” (Y/n) asked, rubbing her hands together. Miyaki smacked her lips together, dragging the girl towards her room.

“You betta stop playing with me.” when her friend stayed quiet, the girl gasped, turning her head. “Wait you’re joking…you tryna get my dad to hit?! Oof.” she grunted as one of her pillows hit the back of her head. Turning she saw her friend on her bed, glaring at her.

“Don’t say it like that! All I said was he’s fine nothing more nothing less. That can’t be your first time hearing that, one of your other friends has had to say something.” She felt the girl thud down beside her on the bed. She hummed for a bit before flipping over to face her friend.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised really. You love you an older man. Remember when you switched to that one baking course just so you could flirt and make googly eyes with Mr.Garcia?”

“That’s not why I switched! I was simply interested in getting to know his favorite dessert!” (Y/n) exclaimed, turning her head the opposite way. “In hopes that maybe I could become his favorite dessert.”

“Whateva. Anyways, you wanna watch a movie till dinner?”

—————————–

Dinner had been amazing. Sam went all out, pulled out the grill, made dessert, it was all so lavish and delicious! He even had lobster which (Y/n) made sure to take full advantage of. He had said help yourself and who was she to go against his wishes in his home?

It was now around three in the morning as she stumbled around the house curiously. She and Miyaki had gone to bed early, absolutely exhausted from the long car ride over and while it was easy for her friend to stay asleep when turning in early, she found it hard to. No matter what if she went to bed before twelve she’d always end up waking up during some odd hour of the night.

A sound came from down the hallway catching her attention. It was a repeated thudding and while usually she wouldn’t go chasing after mysterious noises, she knew it couldn’t be anything too bad. Sam had the security on this house underlock and she had seen how beefy his security guards were.

Once she reached the end she turned the knob from the room in which the sound was coming from. Gasping quietly, she opened the door a little wider trying to be as quiet as she could. The sight in front of her was absolutely heavenly. There was Sam, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of grey joggers beating the hell out of a punching bag. His jabs were sharp and powerful causing the chains to rattle with each blow to the sack. Goosebumps formed all over her skin at the sight of his power. If he could do that to a punching bag, what could he do with her?

All the what ifs invaded her mind causing her to rub her thighs together hungrily in thought. She hadn’t even noticed that Sam had moved until the door she was standing in closed, leaving the two of them in the room together. He offered her a smile, a yawn interrupting his incoming words. His arms flexed above his head giving her an even better view of his muscles. It was an even grander sight than she had imagined when she saw him clothed earlier.

“Can’t sleep?” she shook her head at his question, sitting on the bench in front of him. “ ‘S alright. Why don’t you help me train then? Try to get me to the ground. Come on, don’t be shy, didn’t seem like you were earlier.”

———————————-

As expected, (Y/n) couldn’t get him to the ground at all! Time and time again he had managed to get her down but she couldn’t complain too much. Being this close to a hot and sweaty man? Having him touch and feel all over her body? She could get used to this.

“You know, for an old man you’re pretty strong!” (Y/n) was out of breath, sweat dripping down her chest. Letting out a deep breath she held a hand out for Sam to shake. He eyed it before taking it causing her to give him a devilish grin. Within a few seconds she had dragged him close, sweeping a foot under his leg. He fell like she intended but what she hadn’t done was calculating him keeping a hold on her wrist. The two both fell with a thud, Sam hitting the mat while the not so sneaky woman fell on top of him. She pushed herself up, hands flush against his chest as she straddled him, looking down at him. Her eyes widened at the feeling of two large hands gripping her ass, eyes trailing up to his.

“Didn’t you say you were having trouble sleeping? I think I got something that can put you right to sleep.” was this really happening? Was she hearing him correctly? That thought didn’t last long at the feeling of his dick poking at her through the fabric of his sweats. His dark eyes were practically black from how blown out his pupils were. Leaning forward, their lips connected.

The kiss was slow and sensual like the vibes he gave off. His lips were soft, the taste of coffee mixed with his natural taste. As the kiss grew more heated, Sam flipped them over, laying the girl gently on the mat. He continued with a trail of kisses, from her neck, collarbone, his fingers massaging the flesh of her hips. His lips gave extra love to her chest, licking and sucking upon the brown sensitive buds.

His open mouth trail of kisses slowly became sucking the further and further he got towards the center of her legs.

“C-careful. Don’t leave- don’t leave marks our else Miyaki might see.” she warned, causing him to pause momentarily. Lifting his head he chuckled some, brushing his thumb against the sensitive area of skin near her upper thigh. Whether or not it’d be visible in summer attire was something she wouldn’t know until she got dressed the next day. Massaging her legs, he leaned up near her face, softly caressing her cheek.

“You’re a smart girl, (Y/n). I’m sure you can figure it out.” she huffed but remained quiet, a pout prominent on her face. A large hand came to rest around her throat, squeezing lightly. “ I’d advise you to lose the attitude if you wanna go to bed satisfied.” She shuddered at his words but remained quiet, anxiously awaiting what he’d do next.

From the looks of it, he wasn’t sure where he was going to take it next. He was eager, lust clouding his brain and thoughts. Sam was now acting on primal instincts alone. He reached for her sleep shorts, peeling them off before tossing them to the side. Keeping the eye contact they had, he guided two of his fingers into the mess that was her cunt. Despite barely touching her, her pussy was beyond creamy, juices dripping out the further he stuck his fingers in. Long, thick digits made their way into her with ease.

He made sure their eyes were connected, his stern eyes in a narrow assertion of dominance while her own (e/c) ones were glossed over as she fought to keep them open and focused on him. It was an agreement that didn’t need to be spoken: her eyes were to be on him at all times. Every so often her eyes would jitter close as his fingers nudged against her spot but still she persisted, wanting to be good for him, to prove herself.

Sam removed his fingers, guiding them up to the girl’s lips. Her eyes widened, gagging around the digits as waiting tears finally fell. Once he was satisfied he removed them, positioning himself between her legs. Using his thumbs he spread apart her pussy lips, salivating. Her cunt was so plush, clit engorged and pulsating, just aching to be touched.

He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking on it as he swirled his tongue. The girl reached instantly, hands clinging to his head the best that she could as her hips arched forward. This is something Sam usually wouldn’t fly with but he’d allow it this once. An airy moan fell from her lips as she continued to buck against his face, pelvis jerking rapidly at the feeling of his fingers lightly teasing her around her hole.

(Y/n) felt her entire body buzzing with pleasure. Her hands searched for anything to cling onto as her orgasm approached her, making its way to her faster and faster. An overstimulated whimper left her lips followed by her slick coating the older man’s face and mouth which he gladly accepted, the most sinful of noises leaving him as he cleaned her up. Her clench eyes relaxed as her body fell limp to the mat, chest heaving in heavy breaths.

“You tapping out already, princess?” she lifted her head from the ground, propping herself up onto her elbows as she gave him a glare. Kicking him onto his back, she climbed into his lap, aligning the tip of his cock with her entrance, bits of his precum mixing with the reminisce of her arousal.

“Not even close old man.” they both shared a loud groan as she sunk down onto him in one swift movement. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she tried to gain a hold on him, wanting to get the upper hand. However Sam was just so…large. His girth stretched her out greatly, the head of his cock just barely kissing her cervix causing her to let out a pathetic whimper. Sam chuckled some, wrapping his hands around her waist, guiding her own to rest around his shoulders.

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you. You gotta relax though or it’s gonna be a toughy for both of us.” she nodded lazily at his words, tightening her grip on his shoulders, head under his chin. He rubbed at her back gently, feeling as her muscle began to untense around him. “Better?”

“Y-yes just move. Wanna feel you.” he placed a kiss to the top of her head before beginning to thrust, letting out a small ‘fuck’ under his breath. Despite her being fully relaxed and prepped, she was still so tight around him. After a bit of trial and error, he had finally managed to find a good rhythm but even with as patient as he was he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Locking his arms around the base of her spine, he gripped her in his arms, trading out his slow and deep thrust for a series of fast and shallow ones. The sounds she was making for him only egged him on as she babbled and drooled on about how she couldn’t take it, how good it felt.

“O-oh god! ‘M not gonna la-last any longer! Wanna cum with you! Wanna- can we, pl-please!” she cried out, tears mixing with the mess of drool on her face.

“Yeah? Let’s cum together then.” he agreed, not having much left in him himself. With a few final powerful thrust, Sam came deep inside of her, (Y/n) following right along with him. The girl fell forward into his chest, the both of them panting, holding each other covered in sweat. She let out a soft chuckle, looking up at the man who was already staring down at her.

(Y/n) had originally thought it was gonna be a long summer, but this was way different from what she had in mind. She was fucked.

Metaphorically and Physically.

#x black reader #x black fem reader #x black plus size reader #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #captain america x reader #falcon x reader #poc!reader #poc reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut

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thesims4blogger · 15 days

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“Urban Homage” and “Party Essentials” Kits Announced

After a small leak yesterday, The Sims 4 officially announced its next two kits: Urban Homage and Party Essentials.

The first one comes in collaboration with @Ebonix, and is said to bring inspiration on 90s and 2000s fashion from London, UK. The other one, as its name suggests, focuses on party decoration, including a disco ball and a fog machine.

Both kits are coming out next Thursday, April 18th, so we can expect a patch on the 16th. Read the full blog announcement below.

On Point Looks and New Party Vibes

The Sims 4 Urban Homage and Party Essentials Kits Are Coming to The Sims 4

The party is just getting started! Step onto the scene in the trendiest threads and set the stage for unforgettable celebrations this season in The Sims 4.

With The Sims 4 Urban Homage and Party Essentials Kits, players can style their Sims in Simmer and gaming content creator, Ebonix’s favorite London city-inspired fashion and deck out party venues with festive decor for electrifying celebrations that will get Sims buzzing.

90s Vibes and Vibrant Motifs

Dress to impress with The Sims 4 Urban Homage Kit, created in collaboration with multi-award-winning gaming content creator and DE&I advocate, Danielle “Ebonix” Udogaranya.

Turn heads and make your Sim stand out as the ultimate virtual style icon with looks that offer a fresh take on nostalgic London city-inspired 90s and Noughties (a UK expression for the years between 2000 to 2009) fashion trends, with lively patterns, vibrant graffiti motifs and eye-catching accessories. These modern looks are bold and unapologetic, inspired by a time and place near and dear to Ebonix.

With striking ensembles and statement pieces such as iconic overalls, butterfly tops, eye-catching layered jewelry and glamorous new nails, Sims can confidently strut in style and express their individuality in more ways than ever before. Advertisement

“When I came up with Urban Homage, the pitch [to Maxis] was paying homage to the 80s, 90s, and 00s,” says Ebonix. “[The Kit] is inspired by the urban chic culture which highlights the innovation, diversity and vibrancy that city life fosters which I very much embrace as part of my day to day wears. So with that said, I wanted to bring to life some timeless pieces that tap into eras that we draw inspiration from and are still the blueprint of fashion innovation to this day, with a variety of outfits that are dynamic and vibrant, traditional and contemporary, and rich with cultural trends!

Fun fact: The numbers on the basketball shorts are actually the birthdays of Ebonix’s mom (24), dad (18), best friend (16), goddaughter (14) and her own (10)! She felt this would be such a beautiful, personal touch to commemorate and pay homage to the people who mean the absolute world to me.”

Celebrate with Flair

Amp up your festivities and make your epic parties unforgettable with The Sims 4 Party Essentials Kit!

Whether your Sim is hosting a lavish Landgraab luncheon or a raving rager for the Roomies, The Sims 4 Party Essentials Kit has everything you need to make your next celebration the talk of the town. Advertisement

Dazzle and delight with playful party props, including eye-catching streamers, an entrancing fog machine and a versatile bar that can stick around after the party. Add some drama to everyday decor with lively and unique new items like a mesmerizing disco ball. Set the perfect vibe with coordinated party decorations or mix and match to set the mood and make memorable Simstagram posts pop.

Form your group and let the good times roll in style. Shpansa!

The Sims 4 Urban Homage and Party Essentials Kits will be available on April 18, 2024 on PC via EA app™, Mac® via Origin, Epic Games Store and Steam®, PlayStation®5, PlayStation®4, Xbox Series X|S and Xbox One systems.

The Sims 4 Urban Homage and Party Essentials Kits require The Sims 4 base game, available free to download with all game updates. See minimum system requirements for the pack.

#news #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 kits

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 6 months

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The Origin of Hangman

Summary: Hangman contemplates his own personal meaning behind his callsign.

Word Count: 1.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Mentions of Past Iceman / Mitchell!Sister!OC; Mentions of Death; References to Car Accidents; Guilt; Mourning; Loss of a Parent; References to Therapy; References to Mental Health Issues; Mentions of Blood; Crippling Self-Loathing; ANGST

A.N. Set during TGM (after Beach Scene)

This is probably the darkest piece that I’ve published on here FYI. If death and dark thoughts are triggering to you, DON’T READ THIS! You have been warned!

Last day of October, so I thought I would sneak this in for Whumptober vibes even though it doesn’t fit a specific prompt.

Master List

It always seemed fitting to Jake how his callsign was synonymous with ‘killer.’

After his first air-to-air, all anyone could talk about was how great of a pilot he was. How he had perfect aim and not a lick of fear in his system. But all Jake saw in the mirror was a man desperate to rub the blood off his hands, as if the blood of innocent people hadn’t stained his skin since he was a child. As if he could even remember a time when there wasn’t blood on his hands.

The second that his callsign was announced, he was suddenly brought back to all those therapy sessions that his dad set up for him when he was a kid. And then for the first few weeks of his life as ‘Hangman,’ every time that he heard his callsign, it was like the ghost of his mom popped up and slapped him across the face over and over again.

And Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Not with his dad. Not with his uncle. Not with Javy. Definitely not with Bradley. Not with anyone.

The subject was simply too sensitive, too personal, and too overwhelming to talk about without some kind of illicit substance in his system. The last time that he really sat down and talked in depth about his mom was in therapy when he was probably fourteen or so. Every time someone tried to bring up the subject, he shut it down. He always just shut down.

He’d been over it a thousand times with Dr. John and his dad sat him down a number of times over his childhood, but it never fully clicked in Jake’s head. Or maybe he simply didn’t want it to stick. For whatever reason, he always looped around to the idea that it was his fault. It was all his fault.

His mom was dead because of him. He had her blood on his hands.

And he knew that it was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that the night would go like that? It was supposed to be day of celebration, not a day of tragedy. And it wasn’t like he could have changed what happened in the moment. He was asleep in the backseat when it happened.

But those thoughts were still there, tucked in the back of his mind, and popping up at the most inopportune times in his life. The ones where he heard his dad and his uncle and his Aunt Carole and even his mom herself yell those three words at him.

It’s your fault.

And he believed them. Every time.

Maybe it was one of the Mitchell traits he inherited from his mom—the need to turn oneself into Atlas. The one to bear everyone else’s burdens. Ice mourned Jake’s mom, Jake knew. There’s a photo of his father standing at the funeral that would haunt Jake for years. It was the expression of a man who had broken into a thousand pieces the night before and barely glued them back together in time.

But Ice moved on. He found happiness again. He lived his life.

But Maverick coped in a way similar to Jake. There were photos of Jake’s mom all around Maverick’s hangar and throughout his personal belongings. Maverick gave Jake plenty of mementos of his mom, little pieces of her to keep with him for when he needed them.

But the clearest difference was on Jake’s birthday.

On Jake’s birthdays after the accident, when Ice was home, it was like a normal child’s birthday. There was cake with candles, there was singing, there were presents. Jake didn’t want them, but he went along with it to keep his dad happy. After all, if he was successfully lying to his therapists, he could successfully lie to his dad too.

But the birthdays where Ice was gone and it was just Maverick, there wasn’t much of anything. Maverick would take him for a long drive or a long flight, most of which was silent. They would have dinner at a restaurant and then there was a simple cupcake with a singular candle. And that was it. No singing, no presents, no excess. It happened and then they moved on. End of story.

Because no matter how many times he sat down with his therapist or his dad and talked it over, it never left his mind that his birthday and the anniversary of his mom’s death were the same day. And they would continue to be. Forever.

“You have a tattoo?” Phoenix asked, breaking Hangman out of his deep thoughts.

He turned to spot Phoenix behind him, casually sipping on a beer like the rest of the Dagger Squad—save for Bob, anyways—were on the sand. They had just wrapped up a long day of beach football and were all content to simple sit and watch the waves. And it was that serenity that seemed to pull Jake into that part of his mind that he tried to keep under lock and key at all times.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, subconsciously reaching for it.

Between his shoulder blades and below the traditional shirt neckline were two simple wings that somewhat resembled the Top Gun symbol over his mother’s name, which was written in her own handwriting that he salvaged from some letters that she wrote to his dad.

He got it done when he was eighteen. On his birthday, actually. That was one of the years when Ice wasn’t home. Maverick took him and didn’t ask questions. Not before. Not during. And not after. Ice didn’t find out about the tattoo until about eight months later and when he saw it for the first time, he simply pulled Jake in for a tight hug before excusing himself for a moment.

“And that’s the only question that I’m answering about it.”

Getting up from his seat, Jake muttered something as an excuse before leaving the beach on his own. Rooster and Javy were the only two people in the group who knew the meaning behind the tattoo and it was going to stay that way.

Because Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Phoenix looked confused at how a single harmless question had gotten Jake into such a state, but the look on Javy’s face told her that she wasn’t going to get any answers. So, the rest of the Daggers simply bid goodbye to Jake, who carried on as if he didn’t hear them. Reaching his truck, Jake pulled his shirt back over his head and started to prepare to drive out when Maverick came walking over.

“You going home?” Maverick asked Jake, who did not respond verbally. After a moment, Maverick nodded and added, “Give her my love.”

“I will,” Jake stated softly before starting the truck.

Picking up the brightest flowers available from the grocery store on the way, Jake gripped the steering wheel tightly. When he came to a stop light, Jake glanced down at the bright yellow flowers he bought. His dad told him that his mom always insisted that he had to buy bright and fun flowers. Nothing serious like roses or too dark, lest someone think they were for a funeral.

Parking along the cemetery road, Jake walked down the aisle of green grass before pausing at a simple gray stone that had ‘Kazansky’ carved into it. His mother’s first name laid below it with the phrase ‘Loving Mother, Wife, and Sister.’ And then her date of birth and date of death, which was also Jake’s fourth birthday.

Jake tidied up around his mother’s grave before placing the bright yellow flowers down beside the longstanding photo of the family of three—Ice, her, and Jake. It was taken three months before his mother’s death. There was also a toy F-18 that Maverick left there a long time ago that seemed to be integral to the set up now.

He sat down, but did not say a word.

Because Jake did not discuss his mom. Not even with her.

#top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky x oc

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apollos-olives · 3 months

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can i ask what village/city you're originally from in Palestine? i gathered from your blog that you're currently residing in the US but out if curiosity where were you originally from? ofc you don't have to answer if this is too personal

i'm from nablus (and jerusalem)! my dad is from nablus and my mom is from jerusalem, but i have a west bank id so i've only visited jerusalem once with a rare permission from israel, but i was very young and didn't stay for long, so i unfortunately don't have a strong connection with jerusalem as much as i'd like to. i just say i'm from nablus, since that is where a lot of my family is from and usually where i stay for the most part whenever i'm there.

#my mom has an east jerusalem id so she can visit jerusalem whenever #but the rest of my family have west bank ids so we can only be inside the west bank #but in general i say i'm from nablus and jerusalem but i always have to give a disclaimer lol

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starrclownshazbinblog · 1 month

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Update:

1. Charlie's overhaul design is now done!! I'm currently working on her reference sheet. She's alot more my canon compliant because feel like my original Charlie was missing that. Will post that soon cause I wanna lore dump about her. (I'm working on Charlie then working on my own oc stuff for a Lil bit. Go to the other blog if you care about that.)

2. Lets talk about Angel, Carmilla, and Isabella cause their family is sweet sweet angst material.

Carmilla:

Carmilla has been a exterminator for decades. She became one shortly after her death. Carmilla is trying to get out of being a exterminator. Once you become a exterminator your identity is almost erased. Your a exterminator through and through. Why Carmilla wants to get out of being a exterminator is because of Isabella. Carmilla didn't know Isabella was in heaven until recently. Because Carmilla is just a gear in the machine, her daughter was kept from her. Carmilla didn't know Isabella died at 10. (She had a absolute mental breakdown.)

Carmilla also wants to see Angel again, desperately. They were best friends when they were alive and she wants to see him and the family again. Honestly she doesn't even know why she's in heaven.

Angel:

Angel, while he doesn't believe in Charlie's redemption, is willing to try to get to heaven to see his daughter and wife. Angel keeps alot of reminders of Isabella and Carmilla so he doesn't forget them. Isabella is slowly slipping from his mind and he's losing his shit about it. A small part of him wants to believe he's good so he can see them again. It gets alot worse before it gets better.

Isabella:

Isabella has no memory of her mom and barely any memory of her dad. Considering she's so young and she died 80 years ago, her memory is horrible. Isabella knows she has a mom and dad, no matter what Emily says. She has a small photo of her dad and a dry flower from her mom's grave. She's forgetting them but she's fighting as hard as her little body can to remember them.

She's not allowed to be around Carmilla. At all. She's not supposed to know about her mother because her mother shouldn't even be a though in her head.

Okay that was alot but here's a paper copy of what Charlie will look like. She's a mix of her old design and sheep's. She's better looking now I think.

Don't mind the yellow paper. It's the lighting I swear.

Asks are always open, art is always here, commissions are open, eat food without feeling shame.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

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halfmoth-halfman · 9 months

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we're starting to get into the spooky months now, so what better way to close out the summer vibes than with a fic rec list!!

unfortunately, the original of this post got messed up through my queue and it left me discouraged and not really with the energy to go all out like i usually do so i apologize if the reviews are a little lackluster this time around, but i did love and adore every single one of these fics 💜

if you wanna see more more of my fic recs and favs, i have em all on my recs blog, here!! please note the navi page is still under construction!!

and of course, if you have any fic recs of your own, feel free to send em my way here or on my sideblog - i love finding new fics and writers!! 💜

Javier Peña

birthday bash || a pile of cards - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ what else can i say? cute. adorable. perfect. made me feel like it was my birthday, because this was fic was such a gift. i don't know how jo is able to write the cutest and most fun relationship dynamics, but it makes my heart soar every time.

late night texts || iv. before the gold and glimmer | bonus scene: phone sex | v. you make me feel wild | vi. the place where i want to be | bonus scene: wicked games you play | vii. oh the sweetest thing - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ i will never not be in love with the way jo writes javi, and the absolute beauty of her writing. the way this relationship builds and feels so real with equals parts teasing and the shyness of the first time meeting someone you kinda sorta know always leaves me stunned.

John "Soap" MacTavish

run away to me || i. - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i'm warning y'all now, hal has spoiled me this month and a lot of the fics on this list are gonna be hers. but to start we're talking about this fantastic fic. blacksmith!soap was not something i knew i needed and i am foaming at the mouth to see where this goes.

soap comforting reader - @nrdmssgs

✧ coming from someone who's had very similar anxieties around meeting a significant other's family, this hit very close to home and was so. damn. sweet. i love this so much and soap being an absolute sweetheart here was just icing on the cake.

John Price

glitter and gold || snippet - @writeforfandoms

✧ i could talk about this fic for hours. not only have i read it about a hundred times, but this fic helped inspire me to start drawing again. one of my top favorite comfort fics, everything about it is perfect. dragon!price being so in love with his wife, princess!reader finding joy and love and freedom with her new husband, the little appearances from the rest of the 141. it's all just perfect.

cardigan || part 1. it starts in a bar - @as-is-above-so-below

✧ price x teacher!reader was a lovely idea that i have been waiting for with baited breath and it did not disappoint. esp this part:

“Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

i love sassy teacher!reader.

songs that sound like sea-foam || (ii) | (iii) - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ this fic destroyed me. i had to call my mom and talk to her about it because i loved it so much. idk how to describe it, this filled me with a beautiful sense of longing and nostalgia of the classic fairytales my parents used to read me before bed

all, most, some, none - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ mmkay just one second while i-

lions and ibexes - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i love husband!price, don't get me wrong, but i think farah was the real star of this fic. her characterization is wonderful, and the talk she and reader have is so sad (for lack of a better word) but also hopeful and real. i want to have a love the way hal writes it in her fics.

late night cookies - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ perfect dad!price fic right here. really hit me right in the unresolved daddy issues. good job.

where did you sleep last night - @captainfern

✧ i might just be a sucker for pet names like my love and darling, but this was so unbelievably sweet. reader missing price so much that they light one of his cigars just for the familiar smell of him?? i'm aldkasjl i love this so much.

glory to the reaper - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ the ability of hal to just present us with pure poetry like it's no big deal is just ugh chef's kiss. like all of this here:

How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave?

How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand.

absolutely stunning.

ducky socks - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ dad!price strikes again by breaking my heart in the best possible way and gluing it back together with pure sweetness and a wholesome father-daughter relationship.

Keegan P. Russ

for the weak and weary - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i am of a simple mind. i see hal has written a keegan fic, i drop everything and read the keegan fic, i sob uncontrollably and struggle to read through my tears, i scroll back up to the top and read again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

some nights are like that - @deadbranch

✧ insert ohmygod they were roommates meme here. i love gaz, i love friends to lovers, i love roommates to lovers, i love everything about this fic. it's cute, it's sweet, it made me giggle. 10/10 will read again.

cult of vagabonds || chapter six: storm-flying petrels - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i crave this series like something else let me tell you, and each chapter completely delivers. reader is somehow so frustrating and so relatable at the same time, no regard for her own life but also...same.

to be in love - @lethalchiralium

✧ am i biased because i requested this? yes. but also because this is cute and wholesome and perfect and the idea of gaz buying flowers for his crush makes me smile like an idiot and keri did a perfect job with this.

paper rings - @lethalchiralium

✧ this is me staring at keri after she's written one of the most perfect gaz prompts i've ever read and giving me the cutest, sweetest, most wholesome treat.

get behind me - @writeforfandoms

✧ i love fall fair stuff. corn mazes, haunted houses, bobbing for apples, all of it. and it's even better with the addition of gaz. soap being a little shit had me laughing, but gaz being such a sweetheart (and a little bit of a tease) just had my smiling and giggling to myself.

there’s no need to panic, i’m right here now, aren’t i? you’re safe - @writeforfandoms

✧ gaz is the best boi and even more so when jen writes him. i love the way she portrays him being so soft and comforting, but also not afraid to take care of problems for his significant other. and, as someone who's had loud neighbors, i wish i had gaz there to take care of them for me too 😭

Miguel O'Hara

glass houses - @lethal-chiralium

✧ actual picture of me pretending to be okay after reading this and having my heart shATTERED INTO A MILLION PIECES HOW DARE YOU KERI

welcome to new york || 3 | 4 - @writeforfandoms

✧ i consume these chapters as if they're a decadent slice of cake made just for me and they're so fucking delicious every time. i love lyla and jess in this fic (i love everyone in this fic tbh, but i gotta support the girlies) and this part right here:

(Note to self: bring a sweater.)

literally me. i love this so much and can't wait see where it goes.

hammock by the sea - @wyvernest

✧ the way this fic made me want to enjoy a sunny july afternoon on my honeymoon with miguel in a hammock soooo bad. idk if feel-good can be used to describe a fic, but that's how i feel about this one. it's a feel-good fic, makes me soft and happy and wistful.

spider-girl!reader|| you haven't kissed me all day | jealous miguel | saying i love you for the first time - @luveline

✧ luveline never misses with the miguel fics. every single one is A+ 10/10 chef's kiss. the domesticity while also keeping miguel his grumpy self is just lakdjaksl i'm so weak for luveline's fics and her portrayal of miguel.

Multi

dead disco || chapter 6 - @peachesofteal

✧ i really gotta read this series in small doses, because the way it makes my heart ache cannot be healthy. i just want everything to work out, for them to be happy but goddamn does peach want me to suffer (and i happily thank her for it)

how do they cuddle - @homicidal-slvt

✧ this has any and everyone in it, but more importantly it has my boys, gaz and roach and that's all that matters to me. gaz being the type to do a little kiss attack is so cute and something i can see him doing and roach tracing little shapes and letters i'm screaming. also graves being an absolute menace, you're so right for that.

Nikto

ravishing allure || prologue | cake for a dead man (i) -@halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ do i know who nikto is? not in the slightest. did that stop me from dropping everything to read this series? not in the slightest. will i ever be normal about one of hal's amazing fics? not in the slightest :)

Phillip Graves

close your eyes for me, love - @writeforfandoms

✧ protective graves just does something for me. like, of course, he's a little shit and all that, but, as we've seen in canon, that man is loyal to a fault so it makes sense that loyalty would extend to his significant other. and also the way jen writes him just makes me blush and giggle so that's a plus 🤭

Rodolfo Parra

pressing their foreheads together - @writeforfandoms

✧ i read Warnings: soft domestic fluff and kissing. and knew this fic was gonna be made for me. and i was right. this fic made me sigh longingly. i am so astronomically weak for the way jen writes this man and the way she writes soft domesticity.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

the safe house has seen better days - @ghostaholics

✧ how does it feel to have such a perfect understanding of a character and then create such a gorgeous fic on top of that??

Always staying awake, always assigning himself to the graveyard shift for watch while everyone else squeezes in a few hours of rest before the sun comes up.

i am in awe of ms. ghostaholics and her beautiful ability to turn characterization into pure poetry.

hired as a live-in house cleaner - @ceilidho

✧ i👏🏼love👏🏼this👏🏼fic👏🏼 this turned me into a big ol' soft pile of hearts and mush ugghh just the perfect amount of fluff. very cute but subtle too and y'know i think that fits ghost pretty well.

the team is invited to a wedding - @rileyslibrary

✧ one thing about me: i love a wedding. and this fic right here? absolutely delivered. it's got everything: ghost, gaz cameo, a wedding, macarons. not to mention the A+ banter between ghost and reader, i love them and this fic so much.

happiness || white carnations - @lethal-chiralium

✧ happiness hurts in a way that leaves me somehow longing for more and i can't describe it any other way. i think keri is determined to figure out how many different ways she can break my heart with angst and fluff and i couldn't be more thankful.

circles and squares - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ i know i gushed about this fic already, but i'm gonna do it again. the best way to describe my feelings about this is that i would dedicate an entire section of my bookshelf just for jo's writing. the way she perfectly balances the differences between ghost and simon. the way he's stern and struggles, but doesn't lose his snark. the way he and reader support each other while still respecting each other and they're need for space. i'm so weak for this fic.

on the edge of the universe - @kil-g

✧ it's the world-building for me. it's the captivating atmosphere for me. there's just something so beautifully haunting here, and i am desperately clinging to every little piece of it. like i'm already feral for everything isa writes, and this is another excellent addition to the collection.

civ!reader kills someone out of self defense for the first time - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ had me hooked from the opening line and man was i on edge the rest of the time. i was panicking right there alongside reader, and the portrayal of her confusion and fear and anxiety was so well done. and ghost coming in to comfort her?? i was crying. so unbelievably good.

badly wrapped secrets - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ i just-

"Thank you, for all of this.

He nods—short, and full of understanding, as well as signalling: you’re welcome."

i love them so much 😭

blood was its avatar - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i was fighting for my life trying to read this without blushing like a sinner in church and ended up looking something like this-

and i damn near cackled like a witch at that ending LMAO

the roommate series || lover boy - @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

✧ i knew nothing about this series going on and when i tell you i read through it with a swiftness. my skin is clear, my knees are weak, my livestock is fed. this fic (this whole series tbh) has reached in and wrapped around my heart in the best possible way.

illicit indulgences || the ghost of you - @floralpascal

✧ i am screaming. this is so...i don't know the right word. beautiful? stunning? gorgeous? all of the above? the captivating description of loneliness, the way ella manages to capture the stubbornness of ghost missing someone but refusing to admit to himself that he does. they're so perfect and in love and i'm just alskdaj

can you imagine someone threatening you - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ you ever hear that phrase, so nice you reblog it twice? well i have, cause that's exactly what i did with this fic. it's the least i could do for the pure artistry of this fic. i love reader here, being so confident and capable and ghost being completely infatuated by her ability and so ready to kill anyone who disrespects her.

Valeria Garza

10 years too late on that, love - @writeforfandoms

✧ hello???? this was incredible???? i am??? slightly intimidated???? and in love??? with both valeria because she's mommy and with jen because she's such a wonderful writer and i am in awe of her talent.

#moth fic recs #fave fics #monthly fic recs

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perpetuallypottytraining · 1 month

Note

(im the anon that said regression is not nsfw)

oh okay i get it kind of :thumbs_up:

do u talk abt potty training stuff on ur main age regression acc too or is it just this one? cuz if u do i might follow idk hehe

okay, I thiiiink these are the same person? Probably? Unclear. I'll answer both here, for clarity.

1 - No, I don't talk about potty training stuff on my main, not anymore. I moved those posts here a couple of years ago. The only content that's there are maybe some reblogs from other regressors.

2 - Okay, first of all, age regressors did NOT come up with those terms, nor do they have exclusive rights to use them. Those terms have been used by people for, like, ever. Parents calling their kids "little ones", family members calling out "littles, come over here!" to refer to any younger members, the obvious origins of "mom" and "dad" and their variants, and "caregivers" being tied to both people who care for babies, children, the elderly, and those with disabilities.

If anything, age players have more rights to the terms "littles" and "caregiver" in the context that we're using on this site. They're the ones who originated/popularized them. I know this because I was here, on this site, in 2016, when age regressors decided to split off from the sfw age play community, and there was legitimately tons of discourse about who had the "right" to those terms.

(who here remembers the chire and the other handful of communities that attempted to exclude anyone who liked the parental nicknames and the usage of the word "little" in their regression? I do. god, do I remember. this is the main reason that a lot of old regression blogs specify that they're "community free regression")

Second, I... don't? Tag anything here as ageplay? Everything here is just tagged with omo tags, then with assorted organizational tags - there is nothing here tagged with agere or ageplay - just posts that use the very vague term of "little" and the other term of "caregiver" within the post itself.

(which, I just feel the need to repeat, is a word that even normies use!! my own parents, aunts, and uncles call me and my cousins littles!!! Outside of that, "Littles" is a shared community term!! Littles and Caregivers, as we use them, originated from Dominant Daddy/Mommy and Little Boy/Little Girl - it's the gender neutral version!! Cg/L! Regressors are the ones who decided to keep it!! Because it's vague!! That's intentional!!)

But, yeah, you're allowed to feel your feelings, and, honestly, the fact that you're uncomfortable with the "playing grown-up" tag is something that I anticipated when I made that tag - that it might make people uncomfortable! But, I've been working on making my own boundaries and enforcing them, while not immediately catering to make other people comfortable at the detriment of my own comfort/space.

This is my blog. People didn't like when I put non-sexual omo on my agere blog because it helped me regress. That's okay, and even I became uncomfortable with it after a while, so! I made this blog! It's not my agere blog. It's my soft omo blog. It's nsfw and for adults only. And, only just recently, I decided to take advantage of those two facts and put some other nsfw posts here. I do not want to make yet another sideblog for the handful of "icky" posts I'd like to reblog, especially when this blog is already here.

A nice thing about Tumblr is that tags are now blockable, so if, for some reason, you wanted to follow me still, you'd still be able too view all my other posts while excluding that specific tag. Or you can block me, if you wanted to - you curate your own online experience, and I'll hold no ill will towards you for making sure that you're comfortable and safe.

As for saying thats someone can't be both an age regressor and an age player? Literally what are you talking out????? Huh???? Do you think that adults can't age regress and slip into the mindset of a child while also being capable of, while in adult headspace, in a consensual relationship, roleplay as a child for sexual gratification??? Those are two different things!!! Ageplay is roleplay, and as such, one is capable of adult things! Agere is someone slipping into the headspace of a child!! Healthy communication with one's partner makes it clear what's okay in one headspace and what's okay in the other!!!

I'm not even an ageplayer and even I know that it's possible to do both 😭😭😭 and I just read fanfiction and people's actual blogs!!

As for your sign off, um. Okay? I don't even interact with a.geredips posts and blogs.... even if they're very relevant to me and my regression! Not even with my main!! (I'm also very shy and timid and a bit scared to interact) And, on my main, if people who follow me start breaking people's DNI, I literally softblock or block them - if they can't follow people's boundaries, then they can't interact! I'm just one blog, and I doubt that if anyone wanted to demonize age regressors, they need any help from me - people who deliberately mistag are probably more than enough tbh.

Ageplay and age regression, like it or not, was cut from the same cloth - a cloth made out of a gradient from black to white, with shades of grey all in between. Like a baby blanket! Black/ageplay and ABDL on one side, white/agere on the other, with you and me and my friends and mutuals somewhere in the middle, all spread out across!

Plenty of adults don't think anyone should return to the comfort of childhood things, and look at the whole blanket with scorn and disgust. Cutting off more and more of the blanket, because you think that my grey isn't as palatable as your grey, is not going to change these people's minds. Both of us live in the grey zone, and I personally think that by accepting more of the grey, our baby blanket will be strong enough to handle anything - even and especially people who think our blanket should be torn to shreds.

#im not even an ageplayer.........#i just thought that those posts were Really well written!#ah well.#asks #long post

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ashestoroses018 · 10 days

Text

Four Puffs (1/2)

Originally posted in 2017.

mikeygc3000 (mikeygc3000.tumblr.com) said: Could you write one where you’re Dustin’s older sister and all the kids can tell that you and Steve are in love but are in denial so they set up a blind date by tricking you and Steve and you both end up together in the end???? And lots of fluff!???? (P.s I just found your blog and I’m in love with it)

“Dustin, where the Hell is my hair spray? Did you steal it to do your hair again?” You shout through the house.

“Language, F/N!” your dad yells at you. It’s not often that he’s home, considering he travels for work, and when he is home, you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes every time he opens his mouth.

“Dad. He keeps stealing my hairspray and using, like, all of it. And the little shithead never asks first!”

“F/N! One more outburst like that, and you won’t be going out tonight!” Your dad looks over his newspaper at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Dad. Do you know where Dustin is, by any chance?”

“Dusty’s over at Will’s house.”

“You couldn’t have told me that before I started yelling for him?”

Your dad folds the newspaper on his lap. “I didn’t have the chance, missy. Just call Joyce. I’m sure she can get him on the phone for you.”

Your battle against the eye rolls is futile, this time. Instead of even gracing your father with a response, you just grab your keys and a scrunchie, tossing your unruly hair up lackadaisically while holding your keys in your teeth.

“Be back before dinner, F/N! Your mom’s cooking meatloaf!” your dad calls behind you.

“’Kay, Dad!” You slam the door behind you, jogging to your beat up ’68 VW Beetle.

She is your baby, but shit if she hasn’t seen better days. Your seats are stained, and the engine makes this weird sound, if you drive Becky the Beetle for more than about twenty minutes at a time. One of these days, she’s going to crap out on you, and fuck if that day doesn’t terrify you. Who bikes to school at eighteen years old?

It takes you roughly three minutes of driving to arrive at the Byers’ residence, and you thank every god you can think of when you see your baby brother’s bike outside on the lawn, thrown there while he was obviously in a rush. What you don’t expect is to see Steve Harrington’s brown BMW in the driveway.

However, when you see that Joyce’s and Jonathan’s cars are both gone, it makes more sense. He must be playing babysitter for the thirteen year olds again. With a sigh, you go up to the door and knock, knowing that you’re about to embarrass the hell out of yourself in front of Steve, considering you’re in exercise clothes – leggings, leg warmers, and a ratty sweatshirt. All over your petty need for hairspray.

You raise your brow when it’s your brother who opens the door. “Oh shit.”

“Hey, Dustin. Wanna let me in?” Your tone of voice brooks no argument.

“I can explain, F/N, I swear.”

“What can you explain, Dustin?”

“I didn’t realize I still had your hairspray in my bag, and you have the Farrah Fawcett spray, and you know they discontinued it, and I really like your hairspray, because it’s better than Aquanet, and – “

You follow your brother through the Byers’ residence. In the living room, his friends are sitting around a table, playing Dunces and Diapers, or whatever the hell the stupid game is called. In the corner, a bottle of Coke in his hand, sits Steve Harrington, whose eyes meet yours as soon as you walk in the room.

“Well, Dusty?” you ask, your voice suddenly saccharine sweet. Your brother gives you an incredulous look at your impromptu change in demeanor. “Where’s my hair spray?”

“I can’t believe you needed it so bad that you actually came all the way out here,” your brother mutters under his breath as he digs through his backpack. “interrupting our game and shit.”

After a moment, he hands you the bottle of Fabergé Organics hair spray, which you immediately notice is nearly empty. “What the hell, Dustin? You used all of it! Do you know how hard this shit is to find?”

He looks down at his feet, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, F/N.”

“I had a date tonight, but I guess I’ll have to cancel. Aquanet sucks.”

“You, uh, you had a date, F/N?” Steve suddenly speaks up, and you glance over at him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t anything crazy, but Billy Hargrove seems like a nice enough guy.”

The redheaded girl, Max, gags audibly. “Billy is a shitstain of a human being. What are you talking about?”

“He really is, F/N. You shouldn’t go out with him. Did you know he beat up Steve?” Your brother is nodding emphatically with Max, his eyes wide.

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, he was defending Lucas! Billy’s a terrible person, F/N. You should cancel that date and just hang out with us tonight.”

“Fine, Dustin. I’ll take your word for it, this time. Hey, Will, where’s your phone?”

The Byers boy points you towards a wall handset, and you connect with the operator quickly, asking for the Hargrove residence.

“Hello?” A woman, whom you presume to be Billy’s stepmom and Max’s mom, answers the phone.

“Is this Billy Hargrove’s house?”

“Yes, it is. One second. Billy!”

A moment later, Billy’s on the line, and though you’re not particularly interested in the boy – aside from his obvious physical appeal – your heart skips a beat at how charming he can be. “Hargrove residence, Billy speaking.”

“Hey Billy, it’s F/N Henderson.”

“Oh, hey, babe. What’s up? I’m still picking you up at 8 to see Ladyhawke, right?”

“Actually, no. A bit of a family emergency came up. Sorry, Billy.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?”

“Yeah, sorry. Our, uh…cat went missing again. My mom loves that kitten, so Dustin and I have to look for her.”

“Just tell her that you’re looking with me, F/N.”

“I really can’t do that to my mom, Billy.”

Steve comes up to you, hearing the tension in your voice. You okay? he mouths towards you. You just nod, your mouth pursed.

“Fine. Forget about rescheduling, though. I can get a more attractive whore at Hawkins High.”

“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just call me, Hargrove?”

“A whore. Everyone knows you’re fucking Harrington.”

You glance over at Steve, embarrassed that he’s going to witness what you’re about to say. “I am not fucking Steve Harrington, asshole. And you’re right. We’re not rescheduling. Get bent, shitbag.”

You slam the handset back onto the hook, actually shaking through the force of your anger. “Dustin, come on, we’re going home.”

“Wait, what? But I don’t need to be home until dinner.”

You give your brother a Look. “Please, let’s just go.”

“Let him stay, F/N. Why don’t you stay, too?” Steve asks, in a placating voice.

You bite your lip. “I need to be alone for a bit. I was hoping my brother would be there for me, but I fucking guess not. I’m going home Dustin. Dad says to be home by dinner.”

There’s a fierce migraine brewing in the left side of your head right now, and you just want to take a bath and ignore the world. Careful not to slam Joyce’s front door, you jog to your car, however your beloved Becky the Beetle won’t start. You turn your key in the ignition seven or eight times before slamming your forehead onto your steering wheel. This cannot be happening to you right now.

Giving up, you walk back into the Byers’ living room, much to the shock of everyone there. Steve is the first one to break the silence. “Change your mind then, Henderson?”

You sigh. “My car’s not starting, so I’m stuck here. Maybe you guys can help me push start it?”

“Can we do it after our game, F/N?” your brother asks.

Once again, you sigh. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll just go…sit with Steve, I guess. Enjoy or whatever.”

You collapse on the Byers couch next to Steve, who glances over at you. “You can’t tell anyone this,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I…have a few spare bottles of the Farrah Fawcett spray. Is that what you use?”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

He smirks gently at your excitement. “Yeah, I do. I can bring a bottle over to your house tomorrow, so you have it for school on Monday.”

“Oh my gosh, Steve, you’re the best!” You lean over and give him a hug, forgetting, for a moment, that you’re not looking your best.

He blushes slightly, his smirk turning into a shy smile. “Glad to help, F/N.”

#reader #reader insert #reader-insert #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harringtonxreader #steve harrington x you #steve harringtonxyou #steve harrington/you #stranger things #x reader #x you #xreader #xyou

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