#THIS PROMPT IS FROM SIX MONTHS AGO OH MY GOD
Note
Merrick/Raphael for 27, "pulling the other one towards them"
modern (professors???) AU, babyyy!! also on AO3 with some silly bonus content i didn't feel like formatting here 🙃
“What about that new girl in your department?” Minna asks. “Grace…something?”
“Grace Carrow?” Merrick offers dubiously. When Minna nods emphatically, he adds, “Grace Carrow isn’t in my department. She’s physics, I’m bio.”
“Oh, whatever,” Minna says. “It’s all science, isn’t it?”
“So is archeology, for that matter, but you’d never say she’s in your department.”
Minna turns to Clem, who’s been blessedly silent during this whole conversation. “Well, someone’s in a mood.”
“Em is just put out because Grace is younger than Mori’s boy, and we all agreed Mori’s boy is a bit young for him,” Clem replies, looking ambivalent.
“Which makes Grace far too young for me,” Merrick adds.
“I thought we agreed not to call Thaniel a boy anymore,” Minna says, distractedly.
“Did we?” Clem asks, interested now. “How magnanimous of us.”
“Besides,” Merrick interrupts, before this gets too far away from them, “Grace Carrow is engaged.”
“She is?”
“She wears a ring.”
“Oh, that could mean anything. It could be her mother’s, for all you know!”
“It doesn’t matter, really,” Merrick says. “She’s too young for me. And I’m not interested in her.”
“That’s very much the problem, dear. You’re not interested in anyone, and yet you complain about being a third wheel. I’m just trying to help.”
Merrick sighs and sinks further into the overstuffed armchair in Clem and Minna’s living room. The staff mixer for the end of the semester is always a source of stress. It’s important to go and be seen by the head of your department and any other higher ups who chose to attend, not only to come off as a team player who showed up to social events but also to appear calm and prepared, like someone who definitely has all their finals graded already and is looking forward to winter break like a professional and not like a desperate shell of a human.
As long as Merrick’s been at the university, he’s never had a date to bring for this party, and while that’s certainly not a requirement, there does always come a point in the evening where all the couples have clustered together to have actual intelligent conversation while the single faculty members are left to commiserate over the slog to get to the end of the semester and pair off unenthusiastically, if possible. It is not a pretty sight. He recently made the mistake of complaining about this in front of Minna, who has now taken it upon herself to pair him off with any faculty member she happens to know is single. And she knows everyone.
“I wasn’t really complaining,” he says, to head her off at the pass. “Just thinking out loud about how annoying these events are for the singles among us.”
“Besides,” Clem says, reaching over to fill his wife’s wine glass, “if Em’s that desperate for a date, he can just grow a pair and finally ask Raphael.”
Minna perks up immediately, reminding him, both amusingly and terrifyingly, of a hunting dog who’s caught the scent of its quarry. “Raphael?” she asks, with a look that tells Merrick his goose is officially cooked.
Clem, to his credit, looks sheepish. “Ah, I take it Minna didn’t know about the Raphael situation.”
“Well, she does now,” Merrick says, draining his own glass and holding it out pointedly for a refill.
“She certainly does not,” Minna exclaims. “What is the Raphael situation?”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
Minna gives him an unimpressed look that could puncture a lung on a lesser man, and then swivels to look at Clem. “Markham,” she say, firmly, “you know there are no secrets in a healthy marriage.”
“That’s not fair!” Merrick shouts, but it’s a lost cause.
Clem wavers immediately under his wife’s gaze. “Merrick attended that lecture Raphael gave last month at the opening of the Inca exhibit at the museum, and they chatted briefly afterwards, and he hasn’t shut up about him since,” he admits in a rush.
“That’s not totally accurate,” Merrick hedges.
“He also had a dream about him.”
“Clem—!”
“WHAT?!” Minna shrieks at the same time. Merrick debates pointing out that they have a sleeping baby upstairs to worry about, but decides against it. “I cannot believe you kept this from me. I’m way better with this kind of thing than Markham here is and you know that.”
Merrick rolls his eyes. “You two met when you were twelve and have never been with anyone else. Neither of you are an expert on dating.”
“Fine. Just for that, I demand you tell me about this dream of yours.”
“Absolutely not!”
Minna turns in her seat. “Markham—”
“Christ, Minna! It was nothing,” Merrick says, feeling his face warm with a blush that immediately contradicts him. “I just had a dream that he and I were hanging out again and then…it’s stupid.”
“Oh, dear. You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’re all adults here. Sex is nothing the be ashamed of!”
Merrick makes a useless gesture with his hands that he hopes conveys his frustration. “That’s the stupid part! It wasn’t about sex at all! In the dream, all Raphael did was hug me goodbye before he left and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It’s ridiculous!”
Minna and Clem exchange a look at that, which is not precisely reassuring. When Minna’s gaze returns to him, she reaches out to take his hand across the coffee table. “Darling, I think you’ve been single a little too long,” she says, not unkindly.
Merrick laughs, shakily. “No kidding.”
“Do we need to hug you more?” she asks, and she is, unfortunately, serious. “Are we failing you as friends? Are you completely touch starved?”
“Okay, I’m going to walk into traffic now…”
“Em is fine, Minna,” Clem says, placing his hand firmly on Merrick’s shoulder, so they’re all connected in a tiny triangle. “He just needs to buck up and make a move.”
“Again, you’ve been in a relationship since before you hit puberty,” Merrick says. “I’m not taking notes from you on this. Besides, I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to date Raphael. I thought you two were rivals.”
“Yes, well, I’m an exceptionally generous friend like that,” Clem replies with a smile. “And there’s every possibility that if Raphael were to get laid, he might argue with me less during department meetings, which would suit me just fine.”
“You have enormous faith in my sexual prowess, Clem, if you think I can do anything that might make Raphael despise you less.”
Clem raises his wine glass in a mock toast. “You’re like my own personal Mata Hari, Em. The anthropology department thanks you for your service.”
“I don’t even know if he’s single,” Merrick says, ignoring him. “Or if he likes men. Or me, for that matter.”
“Ah, but these are things we can find out,” Minna says, with a mischievous smile.
Merrick recognizes an uphill battle when he sees one, and resigns himself to Minna’s machinations, whatever they turn out to be, with a very large sip of wine.
*
Grace Carrow, it turns out, is very fun to hang out with at faculty mixers because she’s as unhappy to be there as he is. They spend most of the evening being cranky bastards together at a mostly empty table, and he’s honestly kind of disappointed she turned out to be so cool. She is engaged, though, a fact that he confirms when she abandons him fairly early on in the evening by announcing her intention to meet up with her boyfriend, who’s working on a PhD in Japanese poetry at a university across town, for a late dinner.
“Boyfriend?” Merrick asks, keeping his tone light enough that she won’t mistake his curiosity for romantic interest. “I assumed you were engaged, what with the ring and all.”
“Oh,” Grace says, looking embarrassed. “Yes, I suppose I’m going to meet my fiancé. It’s recent so I just can’t get used to saying it. I never could with Thaniel either.”
“Thaniel?”
“Steepleton. I thought you two knew each other.”
“We do. I wasn’t aware you did.”
Grace waves a hand. “We were engaged very briefly a few years back, before he and Mori…well, you know. It’s a very long story for what was ultimately a very short relationship, and I’d rather not talk out of school, you understand.”
“Of course,” Merrick says, magnanimously, but he’s already looking forward to sharing this bit of gossip with Clem and Minna. Every small piece of information they can gather about Mori’s life is a boon, given how private Mori is with the details now that he’s happily in a relationship. “Have a good night.”
Grace waves again, this time as a goodbye, and heads for the doors. No sooner has she disappeared from the room than Merrick feels someone sit down heavily in the chair Grace recently vacated.
“Dr. Tremayne,” Raphael says, by way of greeting.
“Professor Santos,” he replies, turning to face him, “at what point in our relationship do you think you’d be open to using my first name?”
Raphael’s expression gives away that he has to, with some effort, bite back a sarcastic retort before it mellows out into something genial and vague. “My apologies, Merrick,” he finally says.
“Much better,” Merrick says. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. Your first name isn’t that fun to say.”
Merrick feels himself blush. Stupidstupidstupid. “I meant, at the party.”
“Oh, of course,” Raphael says, not looking the slightest bit chagrined. There’s amusement lurking around the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to be indulging it at all. “Truthfully, I’ve always found these end-of-semester affairs to be a bit of a slog.”
“Really?”
“Don’t tell Dr. Wellesley,” he says, tipping his head in the direction of the tall woman who’s deep in conversation with Clem and Minna on the other side of the room. She’s the head of the anthropology department and thus Raphael’s boss.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Merrick says. “Besides, I feel the same way.”
“So, if my secret gets out, I’ll go straight to the head of your department as revenge.”
Merrick snorts, thinking about how Sing left this party after five minutes and wouldn’t care at all to hear anyone disparage it. His boss would probably agree with the sentiment. He doesn’t say that, though, because he has the distinct feeling Raphael is flirting with him and he doesn’t want that to stop anytime soon.
“Mutually assured destruction,” he replies, instead. “What a lovely idea.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
There’s a lull in their conversation, which allows Raphael to look around the room and Merrick to panic about what to say next to keep this possible flirtation going.
“Are you finished with your grading for the term?” He finally asks, after many moments of deliberation, and he really could die of embarrassment. That’s apparently the best he can do for flirting.
Raphael seems to find this offering pitiable too, if the ways he raises his eyebrow inquisitively is any indication. “Yes, I finished grading the last essay this afternoon, as a matter of fact,” he answers, clearly trying to put Merrick out of his misery.
“Lucky bastard,” he grumbles under his breath, and Raphael surprises him by laughing. Merrick always finds an odd sort of pride in getting Raphael to smile or laugh, given his no-nonsense, straightforward demeanor. He thinks it’s a reputation he courts, being seen as serious and unapproachable, but he also knows that his classes have waitlists every semester and his grad students are utterly devoted to him. The only professor more popular in his department is Clem, but Merrick chalks that up to Clem being more widely published and outwardly jovial. Once the students see what a brutal grader Clem can be, he loses some of his shine to them. Raphael, on the other hand, seems to only grow in popularity with his students as the semester goes on, so he can’t be a complete tyrant in his classes.
Still, it’s the rarity of his smiles that endeared him to Merrick in the first place. It’s hard to say now, when he’s felt it for so long, when exactly this stupid crush started, but it certainly wasn’t from the beginning. It takes a while for Raphael to really open up and be himself, for all he is notoriously blunt with everyone at all times, and his sense of humor does require some getting used to, in all honesty. That only made it more rewarding for Merrick, though, to realize that Raphael was cracking jokes with him and seeking him out at faculty functions.
And then there was that damned opening for the new Inca exhibit at the museum. Merrick had gone out of general interest—he comes from a long line of academics, though everyone in his family chose disparate fields of study, and some of them had spent considerable amounts of time in South America, which meant he learned a lot about the Inca as a small child—but also because he and Raphael are friends in a vague way and he wanted to hear his remarks for the opening. He’d heard Clem complain enough about how popular Raphael’s classes were getting that he’d been curious to see him in action.
He hadn’t been disappointed. Raphael is an engaging speaker, without trying too hard to be entertaining or relatable. He has a way of presenting even the driest information so that it feels vital and interesting, but he doesn’t speak down to anyone. He assumes his audience is intelligent and interested, and by some weird transitive property, that’s what they become. It had only been a short speech about the subject and the importance of the exhibit, but Merrick had fully understood the fuss surrounding his classes. Even if he hadn’t gone into that situation with a small crush on him, he probably would have left with one. Now, though, it’s anything but small. His crush on Raphael is raging out of control.
“I’m guessing that means you’re not finished yet?” Raphael asks, somehow still maintaining that insouciant flirtatiousness despite Merrick’s unsexy topic of choice.
“No,” he says, flustered in spite of his best efforts. “Not even close.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage. You’ve got, what, 24 hours until they’re due?”
Merrick checks his watch, the one Mori gave him for his birthday a few years ago. “A little more than that, but yes.”
“You’ll be fine. You teach botany, right? Isn’t their final exam just, like, growing a seed in a paper cup? How long could those take to grade?”
“I think you’re confusing my undergrads with third graders,” Merrick replies, drily. Still, he can’t help the smile that’s taking over his face, which ruins the effect a little.
“My mistake,” Raphael says, smiling back, unrepentant. There’s another brief pause where they sit in comfortable silence before he suddenly asks, “Markham says you might need a ride?”
Merrick stares back at him blankly for an embarrassing amount of time before he can form any sort of response. “Markham says—wait, which Markham? Minna?”
“Yes, I only know one Dr. Markham here.”
“That is objectively untrue.”
“No, it’s not. Dr. Markham’s husband also has a doctorate, but given how terrible his syllabus always is, I refuse to believe his degree is from an accredited university,” Raphael says, sincerely.
Merrick rolls his eyes. “Regardless,” he says, “this is another instance where using someone’s first name would be both helpful and appropriate.”
“Two things I always strive to be,” Raphael quips. “The one and only Dr. Minna Markham suggested you might need a ride home tonight.”
“She did? Why?”
“I foolishly assumed it was because you actually needed one,” he says, with a nonchalant shrug. “All she said to me was something about you probably wanting to leave earlier than her and her husband would, and that they’d been your ride to the party, so she felt like she needed to help get you home in one piece. I didn’t realize I would know more about this than you would.”
Merrick looks over to where Minna is now standing with Clem and several other professors he doesn’t know well, and she’s watching him and Raphael with her wine glass held up to her lips. She offers him a small smile—not overly gloating, just vaguely pleased—and makes a point of returning her gaze to her conversation partners—in a bid to give him some privacy, he supposes.
“Now that you mention it, she did say they might be staying late,” Merrick says, not entirely certain he’s even slightly convincing at it.
“Well, I told her I’d be happy to give you a lift.”
“Oh, well, you don’t have to, just because Minna twisted your arm—”
“Christ, Merrick! It’s a ride home, not a kidney,” Raphael says, but he looks amused. Maybe even charmed, though that could just be wishful thinking. “I am leaving now, though, so if you’d rather stay—”
“God, no,” Merrick immediately interjects. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”
Raphael smiles again, that stupid, rare smile of his, and nods. “I assume you’ll want to say goodbye to the Markhams, and I need to talk to my boss before I leave, so let’s meet by the doors in five minutes.”
“Alright,” Merrick replies, trying to sound like leaving this party with Raphael isn’t making him incredibly nervous. He reaches for his cane, propped up against the table next to him, with sweaty palms and prays that his crush isn’t obvious to literally everyone.
He makes his way over to where Minna and Clem are standing and tries to capture their attention without completely interrupting the conversation. Minna catches his eye and turns towards him with arms already outstretched.
“How’d we do?” she asks, sotto voce, which saves him only a little embarrassment.
“Well, he’s driving me home, so I’m thinking maybe spring for the wedding,” he replies, with an eye roll.
Minna whacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t be absurd, Em! You’d never be able to plan a proper wedding by spring! Summer, though…”
He’s spared from having to come up with a clever retort by a sudden pain in his knee that makes him wince and lean more heavily on his cane. By the time he’s collected himself, he looks up to find Minna watching him with concern.
“Everything alright?”
Merrick waves it off. “Oh, it’s fine. Just hurts worse when the weather’s bad. You know.”
Minna nods. “It’s supposed to be particularly nasty tonight. You’ll be careful getting home?”
“I won’t be the one driving, but I’ll do my best not to distract Raphael too much with my good looks,” he says.
“Don’t joke about that! You know, you’re very handsome, Em.”
“What’s that?” Clem asks, choosing this moment to join the conversation.
“I’m telling Merrick to stop being so damned self-deprecating and admit that he’s very handsome,” Minna replies, without shame. “Don’t you think he’s very handsome, Markham?”
“Oh, exceedingly,” Clem says, in that mild way of his where it’s impossible to tell if it’s sarcastic or not. “You’re not bad to look at at all, Em.”
Merrick is certain he’s blushing furiously now. “Thank you both so much for the pep talk, but unfortunately I must be going now,” he says.
Minna pulls him into a gentle hug, careful not to throw off his balance now that she knows his knee is bothering him. “Like I said, be careful,” she whispers to him.
“Yes, yes. I will be.”
“You don’t suppose Raphael would be willing to carry you to the car, on account of your leg and all, do you?”
Merrick groans and pulls back from her. “You’re a menace,” he says, blushing even more now.
“He’s just so strapping,” she says, with a diabolical look in her eye. “I bet he could do it.”
“Unfortunately, we’ll never know,” Merrick replies, breezily, and turns to hug Clem goodbye.
Clem embraces him, but has the audacity to say, before they break apart, “The entire anthropology department is rooting for you, my friend.”
“You are both terrible,” Merrick says, “and I cannot believe you’re my best friends in the entire world.”
“You’ll be much more appreciative of our efforts once you’ve gotten laid, my dear,” Minna replies, cheerfully, as she reaches out to fix his collar.
“We’re not—I didn’t say—That’s not what’s happening!”
“Keep an open mind, darling,” Clem says, toasting him before effectively ending the conversation by turning back to the other group of professors.
“Safe travels,” Minna adds, “and we’ll see you for the holidays!”
Merrick sighs, defeated. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheeks before departing.
True to his word, Raphael is waiting for him by the exit when he gets there, and with nothing more than a nod in his direction, heads out of the room. Tonight is definitely not going to end in a win for the anthropology department, Merrick thinks, glumly, as he follows. Once they’ve crossed through the lobby of the building and out into the actual night, the force of the cold, damp air hits Merrick like a wall and he pauses to button his coat all the way up to his neck and readjust his grip on his cane. There are fat snowflakes the size of doilies falling through the air and landing uselessly on the ground where they melt almost immediately. Here on the main campus, the groundskeepers have salted the pathways generously, so it will be a long while before anything can accumulate. He imagines the roads will be just the same, for the moment at least, and he’s glad for multiple reasons to be escaping the party at this particular moment. Driving home any later would likely be a nightmare.
He’s thinking about texting Minna and Clem a weather update and is halfway through pulling out his phone, when he remembers that he’s not alone. Raphael stands a few feet away, waiting patiently and looking amused. It’s neither of those things that truly capture Merrick’s attention, though.
“Is that really what you’re wearing? In this weather?” he asks, instead, gawking at him.
Raphael looks down, as if he’s never considered his own clothing before. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s a suit.”
“We were at a party, Merrick. Suits are appropriate.”
Merrick shakes his head, disbelieving. “Usually, in the middle of snow storms, an actual jacket is helpful.”
“This is a jacket,” Raphael says, plucking at his lapels.
“It’s a suit ja—wait, are you honestly telling me you don’t have a coat? You didn’t just forget it inside?”
“This is what I wore to the party,” Raphael says, slowly, like maybe Merrick is the moron here.
“Aren’t you cold?!” Merrick asks, indignant and just barely holding himself back from stamping his feet to keep warm as the chill settles in.
“Not really,” Raphael replies, with a shrug. “You are, though, so maybe we should start walking.”
Merrick reluctantly lets this argument go, and nods. He’ll text Minna and Clem about the roads once they’re on their way, but he focuses now on getting to the parking garage without falling on his face. This part of campus is very pretty, especially in the snow, with its quintessential liberal arts college architecture, big, stone buildings with massive arched windows and cobblestone paths everywhere. But the very things that make it quaint and picturesque can make it harder to navigate with a cane, Merrick finds, as his gets stuck between two uneven cobblestones in the path they’re taking to the edge of campus, where Raphael is parked. He swears under his breath, but not enough to avoid Raphael hearing, apparently, because he looks over with concern.
“Alright?” He asks, eyebrows drawn together.
Merrick feels himself flush even in the bitter cold air. “Yes, fine,” he says, trying not to grit his teeth. He usually doesn’t struggle this much, but the cold and the dampness are making his leg ache and the unfamiliarity of the situation is making him nervous.
Of course, the moment he waves off Raphael’s concern is also the moment he loses his balance. His foot simply slips out from under him on the wet stones and he starts to fall for a terrifying split second until he feels himself yanked back as Raphael pulls him upright by his elbow and into his side, though presumably that last part is an accident. Merrick is trying to catch his breath while keeping his eyes screwed shut to avoid facing the embarrassment of what just happened when he realizes Raphael is still holding him.
He opens his eyes to find Raphael watching him carefully, with an expression of mild terror across his features that Merrick suspects has less to do with fear over his near-fall and more to do with how close their faces are right now. Merrick is a little taller than Raphael under normal circumstances but in their current configuration—Merrick still slouched over slightly and Raphael keeping him close with one hand on his elbow and the other on his waist to steady him—they're eye-to-eye. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Raphael look nervous, although maybe he just always hides it better than Merrick does, but he certainly looks it now.
“Thanks,” is what Merrick manages to say, as faintly as humanly possible. If he’d been actively trying to do an impression of a cartoonish damsel in distress whose heart is racing more from the broadness of her rescuer’s chest than the danger she avoided, he couldn’t have done better. Then again, in his defense, Raphael does have an impressively broad chest.
“Sure,” Raphael says, and it was probably, given his general demeanor, meant to come out breezy and nonchalant, but instead he grits the word out stiffly, as though it takes all his concentration to say it correctly.
“I don’t—” Merrick struggles to find his words. “What I mean is, I’m not normally this…”
“I know,” Raphael answers, without waiting for him to finish. His look has been upgraded from nervous to petrified, and it almost makes Merrick want to laugh. It turns out all he needed to get calm, cool, detached Raphael off his game was to get within kissing distance of him. He wishes he’d thought of this months ago.
Raphael’s eyebrows draw together even further, adding a layer of guardedness to his expression. “Why are you smiling?” he asks, without a hint of amusement.
Merrick hadn’t realized he was. “There’s snowflakes landing on your eyelashes,” he says, because there are and he’s never had the opportunity to view that particular feature of Raphael’s up close before.
“Oh,” Raphael says, blankly. He doesn’t look happy with that answer, but Merrick is.
From anyone else, it would be a letdown, a mixed signal to worry over later when he’s home by himself. But for whatever reason, coming from Raphael, it is a clear sign that he’s doing something right. Nobody flusters Raphael. He might be the first in human history to manage it. All this time he’s been waiting for Raphael to catch on to his crush and make a move or reject him accordingly. It had never occurred to him that maybe Raphael had maybe been doing the same thing, circling around him, seeking him out at staff meetings and work parties, and hoping he’d be the brave one. He took Raphael’s confidence and self-assured demeanor in his professional life for granted as his de facto personality in every part of his life, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d found the thing that intimidated the otherwise unflappable anthropology professor that everyone admired. And it was him, of all things.
“It’s cute,” Merrick says, meaning the snowflakes and the eyelashes and the swooping in to save him and the fact that he’s nervous about it all now.
Raphael nods, the gesture both absent and enthralled, and clearly tries to think of something to say, but he gets distracted when Merrick wets his lips, which is all the encouragement Merrick needs to lean forward and kiss him. Raphael’s mouth is stiff under his for a long moment, which Merrick attributes more to surprise than disgust and vows to give it a few more seconds before he panics and backtracks. Raphael doesn’t so much burst into reciprocation—the way people do in the movies, like a switch from shock to passion has been flipped—so much as he melts into it. His disbelief and restraint mellows into something more yielding and he kisses Merrick back cautiously. He allows himself to be kissed, following Merrick’s lead and inclination, which on paper shouldn’t be sexy and yet, here and now, it is driving Merrick a little bit wild. After months of thinking about it, the best way to go about pursuing him, Raphael’s submission to him here feels deliriously good.
Merrick tests the waters by tracing Raphael’s lip with his tongue, and he’s rewarded with a small groan of pleasure before Raphael opens his mouth for him. He’s also rewarded with Raphael’s hand coming to tangle in his hair, wet from the snow that’s still falling and probably growing rattier by the second. He doesn’t want to deal with that reality right now, though, or the one where his leg is still bent at an awkward angle and starting to ache. He just wants to be able to ignore all that for another few minutes, to keep this going, because he can feel Raphael growing bolder by the second and he wants to encourage that way of thinking.
Eventually, though, he can’t help making a noise of protest as the pain in his knee goes from an ache to a stab. Raphael rears back immediately, looking dazed and alarmed, but thankfully not getting too far away. His warm breath clouds up the cool night air between their bodies.
“Sorry,” he says, more a reflex than anything else.
“Why are you—?” Merrick laughs. “What are you apologizing for?”
“I don’t…know,” Raphael says, sounding lost. It’s both concerning and flattering in equal measure.
Merrick shakes his head, amused. “It wasn’t you. It’s just my leg. With the weather being bad, it was already hurting and then I sort of landed on it weird. I’m sorry. It’s not normally—”
“Don’t apologize to me. Not for that. I should have thought—”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s just bad luck, with the snow and all. I promise I’m not always complaining about it, it’s just—”
“Merrick,” Raphael interrupts, solemnly, “I don’t care. I mean, I care, but not like…you don’t have to minimize it. You’re not turning me off. Am I—Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he manages to reply, even though his throat feels kind of dry. He knows that he spends a lot of his time trying to wave off concern from well-meaning people who don’t understand how someone so young and healthy could need a cane, and diverting the attention of less well-meaning people who want to ask a thousand questions about how it happened or tell him exercises that helped their third cousin’s bridesmaid with their mobility after their accident. He finds it hard to believe that this could be the reason someone wouldn’t find him attractive at all, but he’d never actually realized before how much time he spends minimizing his complaints about bad days and the lack of accessibility on campus in order to not come off as a bummer—or, god forbid, high maintenance—to other people. He didn’t realize how nice it would be to have someone give him blanket permission to talk about it, or not, to his heart’s content without the risk of judgment.
“Minna suggested having you carry me,” he adds, stupidly, after a moment. He can’t think of anything intelligent to say, because his brain is too focused on getting back to the kissing part of the evening.
Raphael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “She did?”
“She said you were strapping.”
“I suppose compared to her husband, anybody would seem—”
Merrick shoves his shoulder, though not particularly hard. It makes him feel like a teenager again. “Be nice,” he says, fighting off a grin. “She’s rooting for us.”
“Oh?” Raphael’s eyebrows climb higher, but his tone betrays some amusement.
Merrick shouldn’t have said that part, but it’s too late to backtrack now. “What?” He asks, indignant instead. “Did you think tonight was the first time I thought about kissing you?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it that deeply,” Raphael says, pensively. When Merrick laughs at that, he scowls. “My mind was, as you might expect, elsewhere.”
“Oh?” Merrick says, trying to match Raphael’s intonation. “Would you like to elaborate on where exactly your mind went?”
Raphael wets his lips, eyes on the ground. “When you kissed me, you mean?” he asks, without looking up.
“Yes.”
It had never occurred to Merrick before this that maybe Raphael wasn’t haughty or aloof, but rather that he was shy and cautious. He also thought his infatuation had been extraordinarily obvious, to everyone, yes, but to Raphael above all. Now, he’s thinking maybe it wasn’t. The idea he’d had in his head of Raphael as cool and unaffected, as the person holding all the cards in their interactions, might have been a fundamental misunderstanding of him, he now realizes. Because the man in front of him is nervous, is holding himself back out of an abundance of caution. The man in front of him has made it clear Merrick is, in fact, holding all of the cards. That doesn’t stop him, though, from making a move, as he lifts his gaze to meet Merrick’s again.
He smiles, softly. “You still want me to take you home?”
#i know the world is on fire but here is my pitiful offering in case anyone needs a lighthearted distraction#THIS PROMPT IS FROM SIX MONTHS AGO OH MY GOD#also please read it on AO3 the bonus content is my greatest achievement yet#yes i am writing a part two#im deranged <3#touch prompts#fic#firstelevens#homelywenchsociety#that's just my writing tag don't worry about it#the bedlam stacks#merrick tremayne#raphael#(no last name)#dont worry i gave him one in the fic#minna markham#clem markham#CAN YOU BELIEVE NO ONE HAS TAGGED THEM ON AO3 BEFORE???#trailblazer of the year award to meeeeee#grace carrow#is also here because i love her#it's just for flavor don't let that turn you away#mori and thaniel don't appear but they are mentioned and YES I HAVE THEIR BACKSTORIES FLESHED OUT MOSTLY#once again.... deranged!!!#anyway here's wonderwall
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The Flu
Prompt number: 22 "Who takes care of you?"
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner
Rating: T(een)
Word count: 2.8k+
Warnings: Age gap relationship. Dbf. Swearing. Boss and employee.
A/N: A few hours late for day 4, but I was a busy woman today. Aaron and Jack never go into the witness protection program, they catch Peter Lewis right away.
The job was just supposed to be temporary, one to help you get back on your feet after dropping out of school, and you got to help your long time infatuation Aaron Hotchner now that Jess was moving out of state. It was a win win in your eyes, and it got your dad off your back. But that was almost two years ago now, and there was no end in sight for your current arrangement as Jack’s live in nanny.
The one flaw in your logic was how drop dead gorgeous your boss is. Not that that is new information, you’d been drooling over him since you were sixteen when you saw him shirtless at a backyard/pool party your dad threw. But now it’s so much worse, because he’s so sexy doing all of his mundane tasks. Making coffee at five in the morning with bedhead? Sexy. Making dinner in one of his tight white dress shirts when he gets home from a case early? Still sexy. Dressed down in casual clothes coaching Jack’s soccer team? The most sexy.
As you lament, yet again, to your best friend over text about how unfairly hot Aaron Hotchner is, the front door opens. As if he knew you were talking about him, he enters the house with a thud having dropped his go bag by the front door. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, where you are, and when he does you finally notice how miserable he looks. His dark hair is slicked to his forehead, his face pale- except for his cheeks which are bright red, and his eyes are bloodshot.
“Oh my god, Aaron! Are you okay?” your voice raising an octave, you rush over to him and guide him to one of the barstools in front of his large island.
“I’m fine, the team overreacted and sent me home,” he almost sounds convincing, until he finishes the sentence with a loud sneeze.
“Awww,” you rub your hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Did Jackers give you the flu?”
“No,” he argues, and tries to quietly sniffle.
“That’s it, straight to bed young man,” your hands resting on your hips as you tell him the same thing you told Jack a week ago when he came home from school with the flu. “While you take a nap I’ll make you some homemade chicken noodle soup.”
“It’s fine (Y/N), you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of making my own lunch,” he looks like a petulant child, his hands balled in fists also resting on his hips.
“When was the last time you let someone take care of you Aaron?” you ask, becoming annoyed that he keeps fighting you. “Six months ago when you were in the hospital, that’s when. And then you still fought it tooth and nail. Who takes care of you?”
“I can take care of myself,” he starts coughing as a result of lowering his voice in order to use his boss voice. A voice he only ever uses on you when you try to care for him too.
“You want to go back to work again soon right?” he nods. “So just listen to me. Take some Tylenol and go lay down. Please let me make you some soup.”
He finally relents and heads upstairs to bed, but not before you get him a large glass of water. Thankfully you were planning on making chicken for dinner, so you already have some thawing. You waste no time and start cooking the chicken in one pot, then you chop the vegetables. After the chicken has been shredded and the soup is simmering, making the whole house smell delicious, you sneak upstairs to check on your patient.
You’re happy to see that he’s laying in the middle of his bed bundled up in his sheets with little snores escaping him.Despite him being sick, he still looks far more at peace and relaxed in this moment then he has since you met him back when he was still a prosecutor. After a few minutes of taking him in, you head back to the kitchen and toast and butter bread to go with his soup. The soup is done ten minutes later, and you ladle a nice heaping bowl for him.
You trek back up the stairs, walk into Aaron’s room and stand beside his bed. You’ve woken him up a bunch of times when he falls asleep watching movies with you and Jack or when he falls asleep at the island going over paperwork for work, but this feels different. You’re in his bedroom, you’re boss’ bedroom. Overcoming your nerves you reach forward and gently shake his shoulder, he wakes with a start whipping his hand to grasp your wrist in a bruising grip.
“Aaron,” you startle, he doesn’t register that you aren’t a threat in his half asleep stupor. “It’s me, it’s (Y/N).”
“(Y/N)?” he snaps out of it, face contorting into a frown when he sees his white knuckled grip around your wrist. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine,” you smile lightly, rubbing your wrist when he finally lets go. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”
“It’s my fault,” he argues, sitting up and leaning against his mahogany headboard. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the case at work before I fell asleep, I must have dreamt about it.”
“It’s fine Aaron, I just wanted to let you know the soup is done, there’s a bowl cooling on the island for you,” you smile as you slowly back out of his room, suddenly feeling like you’re intruding.
Aaron doesn’t say anything else, so you slip out of the room and head back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Aaron joins you a few minutes later, wrapped tightly in his blue robe Jack picked out for him for Christmas last year. Aaron lets out an involuntary moan after taking a spoonful of soup, and you clench your thighs together at the delicious sound.
“This is the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had,” Aaron says once he’s scarfed down half of his bowl.
“You hate chicken noodle soup,” you giggle, remembering the cute way his nose crinkled in disgust when that was the only soup at some fancy restaurant the team and their families went to last year.
“Not this one!” he shovels in another spoonful.
You give Aaron another helping of the soup, glad that he’s eating and hydrating himself, before putting the rest into a container and into the fridge. You have just enough time to wash the pot and counters before heading to pick Jack up from school.
“I’m gonna head out and get Jackers in a few minutes,” you tell Aaron as he starts sneezing again. “Once you finish that, go lay back down and drink lots of water.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he murmurs thinking you won’t be able to hear him. But you do, and you glare at him for his childish antics. He finally relents, “okay.”
The drive to get Jack isn’t very long, but after the whole Peter Lewis fiasco, Aaron won’t let Jack walk home or ride the bus. And you don’t blame him. Your dad told you about Jack getting stalked during one of your weekly phone calls while you were away for school, you were rattled for the Hotchner’s.
“(Y/N)!” Jack comes running at you when he sees you, you bend down and scoop him into your arms and carry him to the car. You’ll never get tired of how excited he gets to see you when you pick him up, it’s the same happy reaction every day.
“How was school buddy? Get all the homework you missed last week when you were home sick?” you bombard him with questions as you unlock the car.
“It was great! We got to play soccer in gym today and I scored three times!” Jack wiggles in excitement before you set him back on the ground.
“That's great buddy!” you smile at him as he slips into his seat.
“Yes I got all of my make up work,” he pouts once you get into the driver's seat. “Lots of fractions, and you know how much I hate those.”
“I’ll tell ya what, you do one of your math worksheets and then we can make your dad a get well soon card,” over your time with the Hotchner’s you’ve learned that bargaining is how to incentivise the both of them. “He came home from work early with the flu.”
“Dad’s home?” Jack start’s to excitedly bounce in his seat, happy that he’ll get to spend more time with his favorite person.
“Yeah, but just remember that he’s not feeling his best so he won’t be able to do a lot,” a bittersweet smile crosses your face, it’s not fair that they don’t get to spend more time with one another. It’s not fair that Aaron has to sacrifice his personal life to make the world a better place for everyone else.
When you walk in the door you're greeted with the sight of Aaron bundled up on the couch under three blankets, the news playing quietly on the TV. Jack gives his dad a big hug before scurrying off to the kitchen to grab a snack and start his homework. You walk up to the lump on the couch that was once Aaron and reach your forearm forward to feel his forehead, and sure enough he’s much warmer than he should be.
“I don’t feel good,” Aaron whines, making the same pouty face Jack made all last week. “Everything aches.”
“I know sweetheart,” you let the term of endearment slip without thinking, too focused on trying to comfort Aaron. “You have a fever, you need to drink lots of water and get out from under those blankets.”
“No,” he huffs, clutching onto his blankets like he needs them to live. “I don’t have a fever, it’s just cold in here.”
“Aaron it's seventy two degrees in here, it’s not cold. You need to take the blankets off, it’ll only make it worse,” he shakes his head sinking further into the couch. “Fine, if I go grab the thermometer and it says you have a fever, I’m taking both of your blankets into the kitchen with me while I help Jack with his homework.”
You don’t give him time to respond before you head to the upstairs bathroom where you had checked Jack for a fever this morning before school. When you get back to him, Aaron has sunk further down into the couch and cocoon of blankets trying to hide from the thermometer in your hand. You eventually get it in his mouth and sure enough he has a one hundred one degree fever.
“Hand over those blankets,” you reach your hand out for them, and he reluctantly gives them to you. “Now drink some water and watch the news. And no more blankets!”
You help Jack with two math worksheets before he remembers your deal, and demands you make a card. He decorates the printer paper in every color marker and tops it off with those marker stamps you got him for his birthday. Jack even makes you sign your name on the card.
“Is this for me?” Aaron coughs and sits up when Jack thrusts the card in his face. “Aww thanks buddy, I love it!” Jack sits on the couch with his dad for a few minutes, but after seeing the news is on he gets up and leaves.
“You feeling up for dinner?” you ask Aaron, when Jack heads back to finish some more homework. “It’s too late for me to make something, is there any take out you want?”
“Happy Meal!” Jack yells from the kitchen
“You heard the little man, we’re having McDonalds tonight,” Aaron smiles at you as you grab your keys and call Jack to come ride with you.
The rest of the night is stress free, Jack actually listens to you when you tell him it’s time to shower and get ready for bed, all because his dad is sick and doesn’t want to make it worse. Well it’s stress free where Jack is concerned, you still have to deal with the full grown baby you call your boss.
“Time for bed Aaron,” you tell him after you’ve dried Jack’s hair and read him to sleep. “I know you don’t want to but you need to get your rest.”
“I’m not tired,” he says, even though he grabs your hand when you hold it out to him, you pull him out of his chair and lead him up the stairs and to his room
“Now take two more Tylenol and go to sleep,” he reluctantly takes the pills out of your hand and throws them back dry.
“There, are you happy?”
“I’m ecstatic,” you deadpan, moving to fluff his pillows for him.
“Thank you,” Aaron catches your gaze when he speaks, making sure to hold it.
“It's my job,” you dismiss his praise, not wanting to let yourself think about it too much and read too deep into it.
“No it's not, you always go above and beyond for us, for me,” Aaron gently catches the wrist he squeezed earlier making a mental image of the faint bruise marring your skin, and vowing to never let the world hurt you.
“Aaron,” your breath catches at the delicate ghosting of his fingertips on the inside of your wrist.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, leaning forward and now it’s his lips ghosting over your wrist. You swear your heart stops when he pushes down harder, leaving a trail of kisses around your wrist.
“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, the last thing you want is for him to stop, but you also need to make sure he’s in his right mind when doing this.
“Kissing you,” the words fall out of his mouth effortlessly, like they’re said all of the time. His mouth travels up your arm and he’s kissing the sensitive crook of your elbow.
Aaron pulls you down next to him in bed, quickly scooping you up and cradling you in his arms. You're at a loss for words, your dream is coming true. Aaron Hotchner actually wants you as much as you want him, and it isn’t a dream. When you’re lost in thought his lips descend on yours, and soon you get lost in him instead. There’s no rush to your kiss, just a slow languid strokes of his tongue twining with yours. It’s the perfect first kiss, there’s a heat to it, but no sense of urgency to get it over with.
“(Y/N), you have my heart,” Aaron admits breathlessly, arms wrapping around you tighter. “I know it’s wrong for many reasons, but you made my heart beat again. You love Jack and you’re wonderful with him. He loves you. I love you. You take care of me even though you don’t have to, you are the most amazing person. You’re perfect for Jack and me.”
“You have my heart too, I love you too,” you grip his chin and pull him in for another kiss. “You and Jack are everything to me, I finally feel like I belong somewhere, here with the two of you. I never want to lose this, lose you.”
“You won’t,” he kisses you one more time before pulling away completely. “But you should probably go to your own room now, wouldn’t want you to get sick from sleeping with me tonight.”
“I was home with Jack all last week, I’m fine. Plus it’s probably better I stay in here and keep an eye on you,” he smirks, kissing you one last time before resting his head on your chest.
The rest of the week is wonderful, Aaron still argues with you when you try to take care of him, but when Jack’s at school you two let the facade down. You cuddle with him and kiss him whenever you walk past him, making out on the couch like you’re two horny teenagers. Before you know it, it’s Sunday and Aaron is feeling better so he has to go into work in the morning. As the two of you say goodnight to Jack you start sneezing and the sniffling you’ve had all day rears its ugly head.
“I told you not to sleep with me,” Aaron teases you after you close Jack's door, pulling you with him and back into his room.
“I’m fine,” your arguing falls short as you start sneezing again.
“I think the team can do without me for another case,” Aaron smiles as you slip into bed with him. “I need to be here to take care of you now.” Who would have thought the flu would be what finally got you two together?
#fictober23#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction
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all my thoughts, they're shaped like you: huh yunjin x fem! reader
request: i was wondering if you could write smth about yunjin and reader having a sleepover? it can be a smut or not js however you'd like <3
a/n: i decided to write this as sfw instead of smut just bc im...not confident in my smut writing abilities rn so i hope this will suffice! enjoy and thank you so much for requesting. *please note all pictures and videos are used for creative reference to give readers a visual of hair, makeup, clothes, shoes, etc. ONLY*
guilty was your first comeback in six months and by far your most successful since your debut four years ago. originally the song was to go to one of your seniors, but it was pushed your way when another caught his attention. the song was much more mature than the other songs you'd put out in the past which increased attention towards this new side of you as an artist. the past four weeks were filled with long schedules of music and variety show appearances, photoshoots, and too many fansigns to count. however, today was the last day of schedules before you got a two week long break to rest and recover.
you stood in front of your manager who was pressing you to take pictures for instagram before you got whisked away elsewhere. he smiled as you posed and the rest of your staff members made positive comments about you and your performance outfit. you didn't even bother settling back into your dressing room because not even two seconds later there was a knock at the door. you rushed over to open it and a small face peeked through as you beamed from ear to ear.
eunchae shyly greeted your staff members and you before she stepped back and onced you over with a gasp, "you're so pretty!" you reached forward and pulled her into a hug, "you're so precious oh my god." she giggled and led you down the hallway to the room where she films Eunchae's Star Diary. when you both got inside she motioned for you to sit down and she followed behind you.
for a moment there was silence after you introduced yourself before you and eunchae began laughing and you admitted in english, "i'm sorry i don't want to be awkward...it's this is just a little funny to me because we've never actually met." eunchae agreed and answered in korean, "yeah this is our first time meeting, but i feel like i know about you a lot because yunjin unnie talks about you all the time." similar to a professional she continued, "with your new comeback, can you tell us a little bit about the album and your favorite song?" you nodded and explained more professionally, "guilty is my first album since six months ago. it's also a different sound than what i've put out before. this time i wanted to focus on something that everyone can connect with."
eunchae looked at you with wide eyes and prompted you to continue so you added, "guilt is an emotion that everyone has to some extent or another. it's a feeling that has a negative connotation and that's something i wanted to change. of course singing about positive things is good, but i think singing about negative things and presenting them in a beautiful way is equally as important. more specifically, my single guilty’ is about a selfish love that hurts the other person. it’s not coming from my experience, but i used it as a way to define what love is and express it on stage.”
the younger girl looked at you and sighed, "everything you say sounds so smart." you laughed and shyly dismissed the complement out of habit before she asked you, "who was the first person to hear the single?" you side eyed her and she grinned because she already knew the answer but for the sake of her show you sighed, "huh yunjin of le sserafim." eunchae pointed and laughed at your facial expression and you playfully rolled your eyes but she shared happily, "yunjin unnie has been singing the song nonstop since it came out. when it dropped she was telling all of us in the dorm that she heard it first! she kept bragging that it was so good but didn't tell us any hints! but it was worth the wait because the comeback is incredible, unnie!" heat bloomed in your chest at the thought of yunjin listening to your music and bragging about how talented you were to those closest to her.
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the minute you got back into your apartment after your schedule all of your messages came rushing into your notifications. your best friends had blown up your phone all day which honestly wasn't new, but scrolling through 100+ messages was kinda annoying when you were tired. then, like clockwork your phone started ringing and you answered to see one of your best friends on your screen, "hey i don't know if you saw somi's texts or not but we're having a sleepover at your place tonight." immediately you responded, "who is we? you speak french now?" on the other line she laughed and said, "don't be like that y/n."
you whined, "aeri! i just finished promotions im TIRED! and why my place and not somi's?" aeri let out a small huff and said, "somi's apartment flooded like ten minutes ago so we can't stay there. you know the rest of us aren't allowed people to stay overni-" you cut her off immediately, "hold on it's not just you and somi?" aeri looked off to the side and bit her lip, "uh...so funny story..." before she could answer someone snatched her phone and continued, "jen is coming too." you spat out the water you were sipping, "WHY WOULD YOU INVITE YUNJIN?!" somi answered casually, not taking her eyes off of the road, "i thought you would've worked stuff out by now. besides it's kinda shitty if we have a sleepover and exclude one person. it's called a friend group for a reason, right?" you huffed, "yeah i guess..."
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the friend group started just as you and giselle when she entered SM entertainment back in December of 2019. the two of you clicked immediately even though you were technically her senior, having debuted that past summer. along with her members, they were the only girls close to your age in the entire company so you were quick to befriend them as soon as you were allowed. months after meeting giselle, you met somi who debuted a month before you as a soloist. then you introduced the two and the three of you were a trio of best friends...until yunjin came into the picture.
you and yunjin were familiar with one another but you only met once at a music show when you were promoting at the same time. from there you introduced her to somi and aeri, and she was added into the friend group. once you added her into the small bunch of friends you all were complete, and dubbed, The Plastics, by fans.
for the most part everything was fine with you four except that there were times when it was hard to meet up because of busy schedules. however, you started trying to distance yourself a bit when you realized that you had a crush on yunjin. the cardinal rule of friend groups was don't date other people in the same group. despite aeri and somi swearing up and down to you that yunjin liked you back, you refused to feed into it. your best friends weren't liars but you just couldn't bring yourself to believe them for whatever reason. besides even if you confessed to yunjin you didn't think much would come of it besides a ruined friend group. so you decided that you were just going to continue trying to compartmentalize your feelings and gaslighting yourself into thinking you didn't like her.
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you ran to your room trying to get everything ready for your friends, the least you could do is have a clean apartment. the vaccuum drowned out the sounds of the city streets below your building as you dragged it across your area rug. you hummed along to oceanfromtheblue that blasted through your headphones, further muting the noise from the outside world. unbeknownst to you, yunjin had already entered your apartment. she got in using the 10 digit code on your door that she memorized just in case because that's what friends do...right?
a pair of hands gently caught your hips as you backed up with the vaccuum in hand making you scream and jump. you whipped around to see yunjin standing before you looking perfect as usual. she was only in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with those ugg slippers she liked to leave in your apartment for when she visited you. even in a basic dressed down outfit she still looked like an angel with her red hair pulled into a messy bun with a few loose strands framing her face. the pair of glasses she wore sat low on her nose causing her to push them up before pulling you into a hug. she laughed and apologized, "y/n i'm sorry! i called out your name a few times i thought you would have heard me." you let out the breath you'd been holding and assured her, "no it's fine i shouldn't have had my headphones this loud..."
there was an awkward silence and her eyes found yours bringing out a pinkish hue to her cheeks that was only reserved for you. her hands remained on your hips and you brushed a piece of her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. the simple action sent butterflies straight to her stomach and made her catch her lip between her teeth. neither of you knew where this was headed but right before you two could figure it out, the front door swing open and aeri entered with somi, "HEY BITCHES- oh." the two of you jumped and yunjin inched away from you, "heyyyy!" somi motioned between the two of you, "did we just interrupt something or?" immediately you refused, "no we were just um... yeah anyways hey guys." you paused and realized the two let themselves in, "wait- how did you two get inside?" yunjin and your manager were the only two people who knew the password for your apartment so how did they manage to get in?"
somi pointed to her phone and said, "i wrote it down the last time yunjin and i were over. the real question is why does yunjin know it and we don't. i thought we were friends." the blonde placed her hands on her hips and pouted to which aeri added, "how do you even remember all those numbers anyways?" yunjin responded, "i memorized it after seeing y/n do it once. and it's not hard, i just remember important things." both aeri and somi shared a glance and you joked, "so basically i need to make a new passcode. got it." the three of them laughed and put their bags down so you could start your plans for the night.
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yunjin pulled out a vlogging camera from her bag and said, "i know we usually have a 'no work stuff' policy for our hangouts but i have to vlog and this is the only interesting thing i've done all week." your other friends started getting baking utensils and ingredients out of your pantry and cabinets while you preheated your oven.
the american idol stood in front of the camera and started speaking, "hi everyone! today i'm with my friends- and we're going to do the blind, mute, deaf challenge while cooking. y/n is being so kind to let us use her kitchen today!" you fake side eyed her and muttered, "you all showed up on my doorstep unannounced but okay." the three laughed and finished setting up the things you'd need.
since it was yunjin's vlog she decided how roles were split up and it was through rock paper scissors: aeri was deaf, somi and you were blind, yunjin was mute. for the sake of your kitchen and everyone's safety she decided to have two people who weren't allowed to speak. before starting the challenge yunjin explained, "so we already have the roles assigned. basically we are going to try to cook dinner together with our roles and we aren't allowed to switch or break character. so aeri is deaf- she already has her headphones on." she pointed the camera to aeri who was in her own world listening to some tyga song on blast, not paying attention to anyone else. yunjin continued, "somi and y/n are blind- wait do we have a blindfold?" she turned to you and you shook your head, "why would i have a blindfold? somi smirked and winked, "i have many blindfolds." yunjin slapped her arm and she laughed, "what?" you huffed in fake annoyance, "we should have made her one of the mute ones. yunjin finished explaining, "and i'm mute so i'm going to be silent because i didn't want to tape my face. anyways, aeri is the only one that can see the recipe and we have to follow her directions." you ended up finding two scarves in one of your drawers to tie around your and somi's heads and you all started the challenge.
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"OKAY! BOIL THE POT OF WATER!" aeri shouted loudly making you flinch at the sudden outburst. you reached your hands in front of you as you cautiously dug a pot out from your cabinet and placed it in somi's hands. the blonde started to slowly walk to your sink, hitting the front of it with a soft thud and a whine while the rest of you laughed. somi filled the pot up and gently walked it back with the help of yunjin before she turned on the stove. the rest of it went like this, yunjin slightly helping you while aeri screamed the directions to you all.
when it came to cutting the chicken somi backed away from the counter, "i don't wanna touch it ew." you muttered, "you big baby." aeri asked in confusion, "YOU SAID YOU HATE ME?" the three of you burst out laughing while aeri stood still confused, looking around then into yunjin's camera as if it would talk back to her. you stood in front of the cutting board with the raw chicken and grabbed the knife that was within reach. you thought aloud, "this is probably a bad idea having the blind one do this part of the challenge but...i have bandaids."
somi was busy trying to drain the pasta from the water with the help of aeri guiding her as yunjin nervously watched you handle the knife and raw meat. yunjin tensed as she watched you nearly cut your finger once and then placed a hand on your arm. this time you didn't jump at her touch and let her come behind you. her hands placed gently atop yours and you giggled before playfully asking, "oh my god what is this? so romantic." beside you somi and aeri pretended to gag, somi not even facing the right direction as she teased you. when you both finished cutting the meat, yunjin moved from behind you and immediately you missed her body pressed against yours.
the remainder of you all cooking was a hot mess. from aeri forgetting she was in charge of instructions to take mini dance breaks, to somi trying to spoon in pasta water into the sauce with a fork by accident, yunjin trying to mime out her questions about the recipe to aeri, and you walking smack into the open refrigerator door- the whole thing was a mess. but an entertaining one that fans would love to watch once it was uploaded. somehow by some miracle you all managed to make the food exactly how it was supposed to taste which paid off at the end.
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hours passed and aeri and somi had fallen asleep after crying their eyes out to the notebook that just finished playing. you poked aeri with your foot and her head lolled to the side limply making you and yunjin laugh. you pointed to your tv and asked, "did you like the movie?" the red aired woman nodded and mumbled quietly, "yeah, it was good. i understand the hype now but it was sad too. i love a happy ending but leading up to it was sad, you know?" you agreed and admitted, "i was mad when they made me watch it for the first time so you're better than me. all of that emotion just for me to get something kinda nice at the end, it was exhausting." she hummed in agreement and you both fell silent.
yunjin's hands brushed your hair gently, the softness of your silk press beneath her fingers was different from the way you usually wore it. unlike when most people touched your hair, you didn't pull away or dodge her hands running through the strands. instead you scooted closer to her and smiled when she began dutch braiding one of the sides on your head. the two of you basked in the quiet which was the first of it's kind tonight.
there was a small snag in your hair that caused you to almost whimper when her long fingers tugged at it. yunjin murmured an apology and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot before continuing. she then spoke up, "imagine just...forgetting who you are and everyone you love like that."
you didn't think before answering, "i almost did. when i left home and came here. i was around people that said i needed to leave my old life behind if i wanted to be successful here. i was naive and thought it was true, that my past would hold me back so i tried to let it all go. i only realized they were wrong after i was all alone." yunjin began braiding the other side of your head and asked, "so how'd you fix it?" you answered, "i met people who were like me and i made friends and talked to people. i tried to do things that reminded me of home, like being around you guys." yunjin finished your two braids and you turned around to see her smiling at you fondly. she could see the slight pain hidden behind your gaze as you recall one of the harder times in your life.
yunjin sighed and blurted out, "you smell like home." for a moment she froze and you pulled away and asked, "like new york? cuz that's not a complement if i smell like a new york street." yunjin laughed and answered nervously, "no you just...i don't know you're just- whenever i'm with you i feel at home." she moved down to the floor mattress you laid out earlier that night, knowing somi and aeri would be laid out on the couch like they are now.
you laid side by side as you told yunjin, "it feels like that with you too, like i'm back in the states just living without worries like now." yunjin bit her lip debating on if she wanted to do this now, but she caved into herself, "that's not what i meant but it's okay." you turned to face her, now laying on your side as you asked, "what did you mean then?"
yunjin felt her heart begin to race and she tried to brush it off, "no there's nothing." but you were determined to understand what she meant so you asked, "no, talk to me. what's going on in your head? tell me. i want to know, i want to know everything about you." of course yunjin knew that you weren't ever going to force her to speak, so she still had an out if she wanted to just not continue the conversation. however, she was tired doing this same dance with you where she almost admitted her feelings then ran away at the last minute. she knew that even if you didn't feel the same way that you wouldn't let that ruin the friendship you already have so she bit the bullet.
there was a pause then yunjin huffed and confessed "when i'm with you i feel safe, like i have nothing to worry about. i can just be myself and i know you'll never judge me or leave because i express myself the way i want to. whenever i'm not with you, you're still living in my head...all of my thoughts, they're shaped like you. i love you and i love being around you and being with you and i never want to leave your side which is why i try not to come too close because i can't risk fucking this up. but here i am telling you what i told myself i'd take to the grave so...just promise me if this screwed everything up and judging by your silence i think it did- just pretend it never happened and leave somi and aeri out of thi-" you refused to let her talk herself into thinking she ruined everything, "i love you too."
yunjin's breath caught in her throat and you repeated, "i love you too, huh yunjin. i love you so much and i love being around you and with you too." she sat up so she was upright then looked back down at you until you were sitting beside her. the small nightlight on your hallway outlet was the only thing allowing you to see her eyes locked on yours. you inched closer to her and brought your arms to rest on her shoulders while her hands were on your waist. her long fingernails scratched the ribbing of your tank top while your fingers twirled with a piece of her hair.
her forehead pressed against yours and you whispered, "what does this make us then?" yunjin shrugged and giggled which made you smile, "i dunno but we can figure it out together?" you asked, "yeah?" she nodded and you noticed how she eyed your two friends who were asleep tangled together yet half off the couch. she looked back at you and asked, "so when do we tell them?" you scrunched your nose and placed a gentle peck on yunjin's lips. the red haired woman paused then kissed you twice more, "who says we have to?" right when you pressed your lips against hers for the last time, a bright flash lit up your entire living room. you both looked over and aeri smacked somi's arm as she soft whisper yelled, "what part of NO FLASH did you not understand?" the two smiled as big as they could from ear to ear before yunjin let out a huff and sighed, "you all suck."
#kpop fanfic#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios#kpop imagines#girl group fluff#girl group reactions#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#lesserafim reactions#le sserafim imagines#le sserafim scenarios#huh yunjin x reader#huh yunjin#aespa giselle#somi#wlw fanfic#wlw fluff#wlw kpop
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All I Want For Christmas Is You | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley returns from deployment just before Christmas and immediately falls for the new bartender at the Hard Deck.
Warnings: None, just fluff
Length: 3600 words
This fic was written with the song prompt All I Want For Christmas Is You for the Hello December Playlist Challenge which was brought to us by the lovely @notroosterbradshaw
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my Masterlist!
Bradley parked his vintage Bronco in the lot at the Hard Deck. He took a deep breath when he saw the colorful lights that twinkled outside his favorite hangout. He had just returned home from a three month deployment, and now it was mid-December and everything was decorated for the holidays.
Christmastime was always a little difficult for him, mostly because he'd been on his own for so long. There was really nobody for him to enjoy the holiday with.
As he walked into the bar, looking for the other aviators, he noticed a huge Christmas tree in one corner and lights strung along the doorways. "Rooster!" Phoenix cheered, running over to hug him when he arrived. "I missed you so much!" Bradley smiled against his friend's cheek as she squeezed him tight.
"Missed you too, Nat," he said, and he let her buy him a beer before they joined the other aviators at the pool table. Everyone was happy to see him back, and he was honestly happy to be back.
After a round of handshakes and fist bumps, he settled into one of the empty stools with his beer and ate the peanuts that Bob had offered him. He hummed along to Frosty the Snowman as it played, giving himself a quick reminder to mail a holiday card to his mom's cousins.
Then he cocked his head to the side slightly. "Has there always been Christmas music in the jukebox? I don't remember this from last year."
Bob chuckled and shook his head, chewing on some peanuts. "No, the Christmas songs are new, just for this month. Actually, the jukebox got an update when the new bartender started."
"New bartender?" Bradley asked, turning to look back toward the bar, just as All I Want For Christmas Is You started playing. Bradley's jaw went a little slack as he stared longingly. "Is that her?" he muttered. "God, she's gorgeous."
Bob hummed in agreement. "She's really nice too. The guys all went nuts when she started last month, asking her out constantly."
Bradley sighed. Of course that's where his mind had immediately gone. But if all the guys were already asking, he was definitely too far behind in the game. "That's too bad." All Bradley wanted for Christmas was to get to know you.
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You were frantically pouring six tequila shots while trying to recall the list of orders you'd memorized a few minutes ago.
"Four Miller Lites and two Heinekens. Or was it two Miller Lites and four Heinekens?" you murmured to yourself. Friday nights at the Hard Deck were always busy, but you loved working here. Penny was the best boss you'd ever had, and the extra money in your pocket while you finished your master's degree was very welcome.
"Hey, babydoll, can we get another round of beers? Our prodigal Rooster has returned, and we're trying to make him feel welcome." It was Hangman. It was always Hangman, and he was always calling you babydoll.
"Sure," you told him with a smile. He'd asked you out twice already, and you weren't trying to encourage anything else from him. You popped the tops off of nine bottles of beer and slid them toward him before adding them to his tab. "This Rooster character should at least help you carry all of these bottles."
"Yeah, he will. He's on his way up now," Hangman drawled, and you looked up to see the guy in the Hawaiian shirt with the mustache approaching you. You'd noticed him when he walked in about an hour ago, and you'd noticed him again as he played pool. It was hard not to notice him. Oh no, he had a cute smile too.
"Are you Rooster?" you asked after he set both large palms down on the bartop.
"Yes," he answered with a grin, reaching out to shake hands. "I'm Bradley."
You told him your name and shook his warm hand. Oh no, his eyes were a warm shade of brown and his hair was adorably wavy. "Nice to meet you," you managed to say, withdrawing your hand from his before you could embarrass yourself. Because he was very cute.
"Nice to meet you, too. I hear you're the one responsible for the Christmas music?" His voice was luxurious sounding. "I can't believe you managed to get Penny to update that thing," he said with a crooked smile, nodding toward the jukebox.
You leaned across the bar a little bit and crooked your finger at him. He leaned a little closer to you and gazed at your mouth as you said, "Listen, you can only hear Slow Ride so many times before you lose it completely."
You watched as Rooster tipped his head back and laughed. He had scars on his face and neck, and you imagined yourself perched on his lap, gently tracing them with your fingers while he talked to you.
You realized you definitely already had a crush on this man after meeting him approximately two minutes ago.
"I'm honestly digging the Christmas playlist, so thanks," he told you, gathering up the bottles that Hangman had left for him to carry. "See you around." He glanced down at your lips one last time.
You watched him walk away with a sigh before returning to your Miller Lite vs. Heineken conundrum.
-------------------------------------------
Bradley was trying his best to play pool and converse with his friends, but his eyes were drifting to you at the bar pretty frequently. The problem was, a few of those times, you'd already been looking at him when he glanced up. Another problem was, everyone else kept buying him drinks, so he didn't even have a tab to close out with you.
There was literally no reason for him to talk to you again, no matter how hard he tried to come up with something. And now it was getting a little ridiculous, because he was in his thirties and acting like a teenager. So he took his shot in pool and tried to focus on the game.
"Hey babydoll, I would have brought those up for you," Hangman said, drawing Bradley's attention away from the pool table. You were a few feet away from him, gathering some empty glasses onto a tray while Hangman eyed you up.
"That's okay, you're all supposed to be enjoying Rooster," you said, flashing your beautiful smile Bradley's way. Oh how he wanted to be enjoying you.
And why exactly did Hangman have a nickname for you? Were you dating Jake? Oh God, you must be dating Jake. Bradley tried to hide his scowl as you turned and took the tray back up to the bar.
Bradley left when his friends closed out their tabs, but not before he told you good night just to see you smile one more time.
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Always the glutton for punishment, Bradley returned the following evening. There were even more decorations now. An inflatable snowman stood in the far corner, and there was some holly on the doors. The Christmas playlist even had Coyote and Phoenix dancing along to Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree.
"Come dance with me, Rooster!" Bradley was helpless to say no to Phoenix, and soon they were slow dancing along to the music. Bradley caught sight of you as he spun Nat around.
"You should just go talk to her," your friend whispered. "I can tell you think she's cute."
Bradley laughed. "Everyone thinks she's cute, Nat. And she's got Hangman calling her babydoll."
"Ugh. He's the worst," Nat replied, and you both danced and laughed awhile longer.
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"Well, nevermind then," you muttered to yourself as you shook a gin and tonic. Rooster had been dancing with Phoenix for three songs, and it didn't look like they were about to stop anytime soon. You actually liked Phoenix, so you were going to have to get over your crush on her boyfriend as quickly as possible, or you'd be miserable at work.
When Bradley eventually wandered up to the bar and ordered two beers, you took your sweet time opening them for him.
"You look nice," he told you softly, and you fumbled with your bottle opener a bit. When you met his eyes, they looked soft and sincere. But he shouldn't be saying things like that to you, especially since it made you want to reach across the bar and place your hand on his where it rested.
"Thanks," you muttered, sliding the beers across the bar. "You having a fun time tonight?" you asked, because you wanted to keep him talking. Were you truly going to chat up another girl's boyfriend? Apparently. But you'd keep it G rated.
"Yeah," he said with a smile, looking at your mouth. "It's nice to be back after being away so long. Gets lonely."
"I can imagine. You must have been happy to see Phoenix," you replied, just to make yourself feel bad, apparently.
"Oh yeah. Actually, you can go ahead and put these on Nat's tab. I'm sure she won't mind." Someone else was trying to order a drink, so he grabbed the bottles with a wink before he left for the pool table where he handed one of the beers to Phoenix.
But then he was looking at you again! Just like he had been last night! What was he playing at?
You tried your best to ignore him the rest of the evening, and you were doing a pretty good job of it when an hour later, you looked up to find him sliding into a seat at the bar.
"You need another one?" you asked him while you moved a bunch of empty bottles to the recycle bin under the bar.
"Yeah," he said with a grin. "And just put it on my tab this time, please. I'm not looking to make Nat mad at me, especially not this close to Christmas. I want to get a nice present this year."
You couldn't help but smile. "What does she usually get you?"
"She usually gets me nothing," he said with a chuckle. "Maybe this year will be different."
They must have started dating recently. You couldn't help but think about the kind of gift you'd get him if he was dating you. Maybe a new Hawaiian shirt.
"Well, hopefully you're on everyone's nice list," you told him.
Bradley studied you with his brown eyes and smirked. "Are you on the nice list or the naughty list this year?"
Your jaw dropped open just as his eyes went wide and he started to blush.
"Shiiiit, I didn't mean to say that." He looked panicked as he grabbed his beer, muttered an apology and quickly left for the pool table.
You were sweating a little bit now. Had he actually asked you that? You wanted to tell him he could mark you down for his naughty list. In fact you had almost said just that. But he had vanished so quickly, and then Phoenix's face flashed through your mind. You groaned and let your forehead rest against the bartop for a second before you got back to work.
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Bradley made a few appearances at the Hard Deck the following week. But ever since he'd put his foot in his mouth in front of you, he had been avoiding you as much as possible. He went so far as to order his drinks from Jimmy.
He also noticed someone had hung mistletoe from the ceiling in several spots, which was just plain obnoxious. The one he kept almost walking under was strategically placed right next to the inflatable snowman. Luckily he had only earned himself a kiss on the cheek from Penny, but still, that shit was dangerous.
Now it was the last Friday before Christmas, and you were behind the bar wearing a shirt that said So Naughty I'm Nice while you mixed a drink, and Bradley was trying not to look at your chest, but it was impossible. He wanted to touch you. He kept thinking about kissing you.
"Grab us a round, Rooster!" Fanboy called to him, and with a sigh, Bradley made his way to where you were working. All I Want For Christmas Is You was playing again. It seemed to be playing every time he was near you. And it was messing with his head.
"Hey," he said softly and you smiled at him. So far, so good. "Can I get a round?"
"Your tab this time?" you asked with a grin.
"Oh yeah, please. That did not go over well with Nat," he said with a wince that had you laughing.
His eyes dipped back down to the writing on your top, and of course you noticed immediately.
"You like my shirt?" you asked, and Bradley wanted to disappear.
"Mmhmm," he hummed, trying to keep his eyes on your face at all costs.
"Yeah, turns out I'm on the naughty list after all," you told him, and he almost groaned out loud. Fucking Jake, that lucky asshole.
"Really?" he managed to ask you, and he knew his voice sounded needy. You nodded and smirked at him, and Bradley prayed he wasn't as transparent as he felt.
-----------------------------
Something had you feeling extra bold tonight. Maybe it was the fact that Rooster had clearly been avoiding you for the past few days. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes always seemed to find you when he was playing pool. Maybe it was your sassy shirt. Maybe it was the fact that Phoenix was standing with her arms around Coyote's neck at the moment, a fact that could not have escaped Bradley's attention.
It didn't really matter the reason, you just went for it. "Yeah... I must be on the naughty list. Because I didn't get to meet you until after you were off the market."
The look on Bradley's face made it all worth it. His mouth was opening and closing, but no sound was coming out. His brow was furrowed and he was blushing.
Then you heard Penny calling you from the stockroom doorway. "Gotta run, but maybe you should get back to your girlfriend. She's looking a little cozy over there without you."
Then you turned to see what your boss needed in the back room. When you walked away, you could practically feel Bradley's eyes on you.
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"What in the world?" Bradley muttered to himself at the bar. As soon as you had mentioned his nonexistent girlfriend, you had vanished.
Were you interested in him? It sounded that way. He waited a few minutes for you to return, but you didn't.
And then it all clicked into place. He watched Phoenix and Coyote getting handsy with each other. You thought he was dating Nat! Hilarious! But, he had put a bunch of his drinks on her tab. And he had been dancing with her a lot.
But what about Jake? Bradley rocketed off the barstool and found Hangman by the dartboard. "Are you dating her?" Bradley asked him.
Jake smirked at him. "You'll have to be more specific."
Bradley rolled his eyes. "Our beautiful new bartender. Are you going out with her?"
When Jake's face fell, Bradley's heart skipped a beat. "Nah, I tried to jump on that one too early, unfortunately. Babydoll turned me down."
"Yes," Bradley whispered, turning toward the stockroom door where he was met with Penny returning with another case of beer.
"You need another drink, Rooster?" she asked with a smile.
"Is Y/N in the back room?" he asked.
Penny frowned. "No, I sent her home early. She's been working so many hours this week."
"Right," he replied, and turned back toward the pool table.
---------------------------------
You got to work the following evening to find the bar was busier than you had ever seen it. The jukebox was blasting Christmas music, but it could barely be heard over all the laughter and conversation. You were in for a long night of mixing and pouring drinks faster than you ever had before.
You saw Rooster was there, but you tried to ignore him. You felt so guilty about flirting with him, and you should have never pointed out that Phoenix was hanging off of Coyote. What were you thinking?
When he eventually came up to the bar, you quickly asked him, "You need a round? On your tab?"
Bradley looked at you with such open longing, you had to avert your gaze down to your bottle opener.
"Yeah. I mean, no," he said. "Well, yes, I do want to get a round, but I also wanted to talk to you."
You glanced back up to his pretty brown eyes, and you noticed the line of people behind him awaiting drinks.
"It's crazy in here right now. Maybe later?" You shoved the beers across the counter to him. But you didn't intend to talk to him later, because he was making it abundantly clear who he was here with. Phoenix. He was handing a drink to her and whispering in her ear. And you reminded yourself that he was taken.
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Bradley had tried again to get your attention, but on top of being busy, you didn't seem to want to talk to him. You thought he was with Nat. He needed to make it clear that he was not. He needed to make it clear that he was interested in you. And he really wanted to do it tonight.
But the bar was filled with patrons all the way up until last call. And that was when Bradley noticed that Payback was sloppy drunk.
"Guys, he's a mess," Bradley informed the others.
"Yeah, I'll drive him home," Phoenix agreed. And when Bradley tried to help Phoenix and Coyote guide Payback toward the door, Payback collided with you. Bradley watched in horror as you tried to juggle the tray full of empty bottles and glasses in your hands, but it was no use. Suddenly you were standing in the middle of a bunch of shattered glass, sighing and shaking your head at the ceiling.
"You guys got him? I'm going to help her clean up," Bradley told the others, before squatting down in front of you.
"You don't have to," you told him as you looked down into his eyes. "I got it."
Bradley just shook his head up at you. "It's really no problem."
Bradley picked up the large pieces of the broken beer bottles while you stepped gingerly over the mess and went to get the broom and dust pan. But when you returned, he couldn't take it. He tossed the glass pieces back onto the mess.
"Can we talk? Please?" he asked you as he stood. The crowd had mostly cleared out as it was now closing time.
"I don't think we really have anything to talk about," you told him, sweeping the glass into a pile. But Bradley gently took the broom from you and propped it against the jukebox. Then he took both of your hands in his and slowly, carefully guided you around the inflatable snowman and away from the broken glass.
"I'm not dating Phoenix," he told you before you could pull your hands out of his grasp.
You looked at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. "You're not?"
"No. Never have, never will. Just friends," he confirmed. He waited for you to say something, but you just looked at him a bit surprised. "And you'll have to excuse me for thinking you were with Jake. That's why I didn't ask you out the first night we met."
"Jake?" you asked. You looked like you were still trying to figure everything out. "I'm not with Hangman!"
Bradley chuckled. "I know that now, but he was calling you babydoll."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, he tends to do that. I think he wants me to tell him it's annoying, so he knows I'm paying attention to him. That's why I don't."
Bradley couldn't help but smile at you as he pulled you a little closer to him.
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Bradley wasn't dating Phoenix! He never had been! And he thought you were seeing Jake? How had things become so confusing?
And now he was guiding you into his arms, a hesitant look on his face as he said, "You know, if you went out on a date with me, Jake would probably cut it out with the pet names."
You pressed your lips together, trying to hide your smile. "Is that your version of asking?"
He grinned. "Do you want to go out with me? We could get dinner and follow it up with a long walk on the beach."
You let your palms rest against his chest as his hands drifted down to your hips. He smelled so good, like sandalwood mixed with a minty pine. Almost like mistletoe. You glanced up to find you and he were standing right under one of the sprigs you had hung up, and his gaze followed yours.
"I must be on the nice list after all," you whispered.
"Me too," Bradley agreed as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you. You traced one of his scars with your thumb as he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth was warm and perfect, and his mustache made you a little crazy.
"Mmm," you hummed, and Bradley deepened the kiss, tasting your tongue with his. He pushed you back a few steps until your butt hit the jukebox. You broke apart as the ancient machine started playing All I Want For Christmas Is You.
"It's true though. It's all I want," he told you, forehead pressed to yours as you both smiled and listened to the opening lines.
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Happy Holidays! Make sure you check out all of the other amazing fics written for this challenge!
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Written for @eddiemonth
Day 11 Prompt: Pirate
read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series
There are a lot of challenges that come with being a parent: dealing with tantrums, having to be responsible, cooking all the time, making friends with other parents (thank God Steve’s a people person because Eddie would rather stab himself in the eye with a fork than listen to Brenda brag about her kids — Newsflash Brenda, all our kids shit in the toilet, it’s not an accomplishment!) Fortunately, Eddie’s conquered them all, mostly. What he hasn’t conquered, though, is the biggest parenting challenge of all: saying no to their little girl.
But, like, can anyone even blame him? How is he supposed to look at Rosie with her big, brown eyes behind her purple round glasses and her lush, springy curls and tell her no? He’s not, that’s how. It’s even worse now that she’s learned how to wobble her lower lip and bat her eyelashes (Dustin and Erica are on babysitting probation for that one.)
It’s a move she’s already perfected and has been pulling all day to keep Eddie from doing any of his actual parenting duties while Steve’s held up at school in a marathon of parent-teacher conferences. But it’s fine. Better than fine if he’s straight with himself. There’s nothing Eddie loves more than some quality make-believe time with his daughter. Brings him right back to his Hellfire days. And once Eddie commits to a story, he’s in it until they reach the end (or until Rosie gets bored — whichever comes first).
He takes world-building just as seriously, which is why their living room has been transformed into a pirate ship. The long couch stands in as the main dock. An assortment of cardboard boxes from their latest Costco run stacked in a chaotic way on the front and the end, making up the stern and bow. A once-white pillowcase is now stained with purple marker — a Rosie original drawn in the middle — and hanging from the broom shoved into the couch cushions. (Steve’s not going to be happy about that one, but he’ll level with him later.)
Rosie is dressed in her favorite pirate costume. One of Steve’s button-up shirts and her favorite black leggings. Her feet (and most of her legs) are shoved into a pair of Eddie’s old black boots and the left lens in her glasses is covered in black duct tape (fuck, he hopes it doesn’t scratch them). The store-bought pirate hat disappeared weeks ago so in its place is one of Eddie’s old bandanas. Thankfully, the store-bought sword they bought her last year hasn’t gone missing (he’s pretty sure his streak of saying yes would have to end if she demanded access to the kitchen knives). Oh, yeah, and she’s refusing to answer to her name — responding to Eddie only when he refers to her as Cap’n Skittle.
“It’s time you walk the plank, traitor!” she shouts, hoisting a well-loved Garfield stuffed animal over her head. Hopping on the couch cushions, she glances at Eddie over her shoulder. “One-arm Gravy, prepare the plank.”
“Ay, Ay, captain,” Eddie says, saluting with the hand that isn’t pulled through the sleeve of his shirt and resting on his stomach. Rosie really made him commit to the whole one-arm thing, and he’s not about to suppress her creative whims.
With a careful step into the middle of the couch, Eddie reaches for one of their custom decorative pillows. It takes a few tries, but eventually, he manages to get one end of the throw pillow balanced on the edge of the couch while the rest hangs off.
“The plank is ready, Cap’n Skittle.”
“Time to meet your end, Garfield!”
Without a moment of hesitation, Rosie chucks the Garfield stuffed animal off of the couch, sending it flying across the room and into the bookshelf against the other wall. Thankfully, nothing breaks or falls over. Explaining to Steve why Rosie isn’t in bed yet is easy. Explaining how his mint condition replica of the Beamer broke, not so much.
“See you never traitor,” she cackles, far more sinister than a six-year-old should sound.
On second thought, maybe suppressing her creative whims is a good idea, Eddie thinks for a moment before shaking his head. Nah, Wayne let me do whatever I wanted, and I turned out fine.
“It’s time to celebrate!” She gathers the rest of the stuffed animal-turned-crew mates as she skips her way back to Eddie. Hoisting and swaying her sword high up in the sky in celebration.
“Not so fast,” Eddie says, shoving his arm back through the sleeve of his shirt. He peels off the paper mustache Rosie demanded he wear and yanks out a sword he’s been hiding in the waistband of his pajama pants.
Rosie screams, lowering her own sword in preparation for a duel. “Not Cap’n No Moosetach! I killed you.”
“You tried to be a hero Cap’n Skittle, but you failed to remember the most important thing about being a pirate captain,” Eddie says, voice an octave lower than usual. He takes a tentative step forward on the couch and then another and another until Rosie’s trapped between him and the armrest. He holds his sword up to her chin, not touching, but close enough for her eyes to go a little crossed as she stares at it. “We never die before we get our treasure.”
Eddie swings his sword, but Rosie’s quick, swinging hers back at him. It’s the beginning of an epic sword battle that has both of them doing the most. Rosie leaps at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his middle until they’re both toppling over onto the couch. She quickly gets to her feet, shoving her sword in Eddie’s face for a moment before he rolls off the couch and into the “waters” below.
“You’ll never get the da’blooms,” she shouts. Glancing over her shoulder at the hoard of stuffed animals on the couch, she shouts, “Man the cannons!”
Eddie barely has time to shield his head before she’s throwing pillow after pillow at him. Shouting orders left and right to her “crew mates.” Hoisting himself up, Eddie gets back on the couch and engages in another battle with Rosie. Swords clinking against each other as Eddie hums a made-up soundtrack for their battles. He gets lost in the humming and has no time to defend himself when Rosie jabs her bony elbow into his ribs.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans, massaging over the spot. “That hurt Rosie.”
“Who is this Rosie you speak of?” she growls, threatening him with her sword. “I don’t know any Rosies!”
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. She may not biologically be his daughter, but oh man, does she make up for it in her quirks and personalities. After all, no one commits to a fantasy role more than a Munson.
The battle continues with both of them taking turns being the winners and losers until the front door knob starts to jingle.
“Avast Ye,” Eddie says, pulling Rosie in close. “A landlubber approaches.”
“Aye,” Rosie nods. “We can take him together.”
“A truce, you say? Only if you give me half of your Doubloons.”
“I’ll give you three.”
This time, Eddie does snort, earning a fierce glare from Rosie before the front door opens. Steve steps in, looking more exhausted than ever before. His lucky striped tie is pulled loose, his blazer slung casually over his shoulder.
“Aye, it’s the wealthy merchant Sir Steven of Stevensburg.”
Despite the pure exhaustion on his face and in his bones, Steve cocks his head to the side and arches his brow. “Sir Steve of Stevensburg? That’s the best you can come up with?” He toes off his work loafers and pads his sock-covered feet further into the mess of the living room.
“Hey,” Eddie whines, voice returning to normal. “Cut me some slack; we’ve been at this for hours.”
“Shush you landlubber!” Rosie says, leaping off the couch and into Steve’s arm. “If you want our Da’blooms, you have to fight me and Cap’n No Moosetach.”
“Da’blooms? I don’t need your da’blooms.”
“Then why are you braving these here seas, Sir Steven?” Eddie asks as he steps down from the couch, eager to get his hands on his clearly exhausted boyfriend.
“Well, I am a Prince in search of a fair maiden. A princess, actually,” he says, nuzzling his face into Rosie’s neck. She squeals in delight before squirming out of his arms and dropping to the floor. “Do you know of any princesses around here?” Steve cups his hands over his eyes, turning them into binoculars, as he glances around the room.
“Me! Me!” Rosie shouts, jumping up and down. “M’a princess! The prettiest princess in all the land.”
Steve crouches down to Rosie’s height. Hands on his hips and tired eyes squinted in a focused manner as he studies her pirate costume. “Hmm, I don’t know,” he puzzles, dramatically tapping his chin.
Eddie watches Steve take on the role of a Prince. When Rosie first started getting into make-believe, Steve struggled with the “yes and-ing” that comes with improvised play. It took a while for him to come out of his shell and allow himself to actually be goofy. If Eddie ever gets his hangs on the Harringtons he swears he’s going to ring their neck for stifling Steve’s creativity. Because dammit, his Steve is creative! Weaving epic adventure stories like it is second nature. Sometimes even better than Eddie can.
Eddie absolutely adores it when Steve gets like this. When the pressures of being an adult fade away all that matters is the story and Rosie’s imagination. It totally works for him too.
“You look like a pirate to me,” Steve says, finally, before standing up to his full height as he looks down on Rosie.
“Cap’n Skittle, to be exact,” Eddie says, saddling up next to Rosie with his sword outstretched in Steve’s direction. “The most vicious pirate to ever pirate the seas.”
“No, no,” Rosie shouts, yanking the sword from Eddie’s hands and tossing it aside, “‘M Cap’n Skittle now, but if you kiss me, I’ll turn into a princess! Kiss me, you’ll see!”
There’s a beat where Eddie and Steve share a fourth-wall-breaking glance. A silent should we be worried about this? and eh, it’s probably fine in return. They’re caught up in their half-concern, half-amused state that neither one realizes Rosie is moving until it’s too late. She throws herself at Steve, scaling her way up his legs and into his arms.
“Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!”
With a laugh, Steve dramatically dips Rosie in his arms before planting a kiss on her lips. He pulls away with a loud smooching sound that has Rosie giggling and then rips the bandana off of her head. “Be still, my beating heart. You are a Princess!”
“Told ya so,” Rosie says before quickly switching to her new Princess role. “Tis I Princess Buttercup and you’re Prince Peanut. Together we’re Prince and Princess Peanut Buttercup!”
Damn candy commercials, Eddie thinks, hiding a smile behind a lock of hair. Glancing at the clock, Eddie realizes it’s way past Rosie’s bedtime. A fact Steve also picks up on based on the look he’s giving Eddie. A raised brow followed by a dramatic wink. He can practically hear Steve saying, watch this — forever the expert at getting Rosie to bed.
“What say thee, Princess Buttercup? Shall we retire to our room for a royal slumber?”
“But m’not tired,” she pouts.
“Ah, but Princess Buttercup. You must sleep so tomorrow we can defeat the evil Lord Munsington.”
“Munsington? Really?” Eddie laughs, shaking his head.
“We’re not talking to you, Lord Munsington,” Rosie scolds, shooing Eddie away with her hand. “We’re going to need lots of sleep to defeat him, Prince Buttercup.”
“Well, then, we better get started,” Steve muses, carrying Rosies toward her bedroom.
Eddie doesn’t follow, letting Steve get some quality time in with Rosie before she falls asleep. Besides, Eddie’s all storied out after hours and hours of playing pirates and witches and fairy tea parties. He collapses on the couch instead, letting his own eyes shut until he hears Steve’s feet padding their way to him.
“Missed you,” Steve says, kissing the top of Eddie’s head before sinking into the couch cushion beside him. He’s already stripped out of his work clothes, clad now in a pair of worn sweatpants.
“Missed you too,” Eddie says, snuggling up to Steve’s side. His warm shirtless body feels relaxing on Eddie’s aching bones. Especially his ribs which are already bruising from Rosie’s brutal hit earlier.
“Looks like I missed a good storytelling day.”
Eddie hums. “Well, we lost the plot at the end there, but yeah, it was a good storytelling day.”
“Worth the mess of our living room?” Steve asks, glancing around at the cardboard boxes, stuffed animal graveyard, and pillows littering the floor.
“I’ll clean it up in the morning, promise,” Eddie says through a yawn. “Right now, Lord Munsington needs his sleep.”
“Come on then,” Steve huffs, hot air fluttering the unruly tendrils of Eddie’s hair. Heaving Eddie off of him, he stands to his feet before extending a hand out. “Prince Peanut is feeling generous and will allow Lord Munsington to sleep in his bed.”
“Will cuddling be allowed?” Eddie asks, slapping his hand into Steve’s.
With a swift yank, Eddie’s on his feet and being propelled into Steve’s awaiting arms. He wraps his own around Steve’s neck, fingers kneading at the knots in his neck. Steve groans in pleasure before his own arms wrap around Eddie’s middle, squeezing.
“Cuddles are always allowed.”
Untangling himself from Steve, he moves his right hand until it rests on the small of Steve’s back. “Then let’s get a move on it,” Eddie says, guiding them towards their bedroom.
#eddiemonth#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson ficlet#dad eddie munson#dad steve harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington ficlet#parent steddie#dad steddie#kid fic#teacher steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things fic#dani writes
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for the fuzzy sweater prompt: fratt get caught in the rain and go back to matts, matt's only clothes that will fit frank are the sweaters that his kind old lady clients knitted him that are a few sizes too big
ANON!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THIS PROMPT!!!!!!!!
(1k words, stupid disgusting amounts of fluff, no warnings, not edited, written at like twice my normal speed so sorry if it's bad, I'M SO SOFT FOR THEM!!!!!!)
By the time they started the walk home, it was pouring. Frank pulled up his hood and waited to see if dinner with their friends had put Matt in a good enough mood to not call him on it.
They made it a block. “It’s still fifty degrees out,” Matt said, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I guess you didn’t need a coat after all.”
Frank shot him a look. “It was clear when we left.”
“I said it was going to be raining on the walk back, not the walk there.”
“Next time I’ll ask if you smell rain before I go anywhere, yeah? That what you want?”
“It was the atmospheric pressure, not the smell,” Matt said easily, like Frank didn’t know what revealing any detail about his senses cost him. Frank shook his head, huffed in annoyance when rain fell from his hood into his face.
Matt grinned then offered out his hand, stopped moving his cane. Frank put it in the crook of his elbow and gathered Matt close, feeling the welcome heat of Matt’s body against his own.
Still, by the time they made it the few blocks to Matt’s apartment, Frank was freezing. Frank stripped off the drenched hoodie on the way to the bedroom, tossing a mild “fuck off,” behind him when Matt laughed. He pulled open the dresser drawer Matt had given him, then remembered he hadn’t done laundry in a week, and hadn’t moved enough of his things here to have more clothes. He’d gotten the key six months ago, kept a toothbrush here for much longer, but Matt hadn’t asked him to move in, and Frank hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by putting a name to it.
If he asked Matt to borrow something, Matt would tease him about it for the next fifty years. If he took something from the laundry, Matt would refuse to sit to close to him until after he changed and showered. He put the drenched hoodie back on.
“What are you doing?”
Frank glanced behind him, saw Matt had already changed into a pair of sweatpants he’d kept on the bed, the jacket and button-down replaced by the ratty Columbia sweater Frank wasn’t allowed to mention whenever Nelson was around. The one time he’d asked Matt if he’d wanted it, the debate over whose it was went on for an hour.
“Nothing,” Frank replied. “This actually’s the warmest thing I have right now is all.”
He began moving back to the living room, planning to take the side of the couch closest to the radiator and steal the throw blanket. Matt’s head tilted, then he sniffed. “You don’t have anything else clean, do you.”
Matt walked over to stand next to him, rifling through one of his drawers until he offered Frank a bundle of bright red fabric. It was a cable knit sweater, a little on the larger side, but right now Frank didn’t care. He changed into it, closed his eyes when the warm, dry yarn hit his skin.
Matt handed him an extra pair of sweatpants to replace his jeans, then lead them back to the living room. He took a seat on the couch and then gestured at Frank to join him. Frank ended up half on top of him, chest to chest, and Matt grabbed the blanket off the back to cover him with.
“Warm enough now?” Matt said, just enough teasing in his voice for Frank to catch.
“For now,” Frank said. “Patrol’s gonna be hell tonight, though.” Matt hummed, noncommittal.
Frank pulled back enough to glance up at him, trying to read his expression. “Thinking about staying in?”
Matt did his best to shrug, beginning to card a hand lazily through Frank’s hair. Frank grunted and dropped his head back down in content. “I’ll keep listening, see if we’re needed. But with the weather…” There would be fewer muggers and rapists out in this kind of downpour, and they didn’t have anything larger planned.
Frank was alright with that. He didn’t mind taking a night off, and Matt could use the extra sleep.
They laid there in silence for several minutes. The chill had been all but chased from Frank’s skin, and he said, “Never seen you wear this sweater before. S’warm.”
“Yeah, it’s wool. Took a case a few years ago, suing a doctor for medical malpractice. Our client was retired, but she knitted each of us a few sweaters. That’s the black one, right?”
Frank hesitated. It was as black as a fire truck, or a Santa hat. “Yeah.”
Matt stayed quiet for a second, then sighed. “It’s the one that Foggy said I should start wearing over my suit.”
Frank half-smiled against the side of Matt’s neck. “Yeah.”
“I guess I should be grateful. Karen said she could be mistaken for Barbie in one of hers.”
Frank huffed a laugh. “Would take it off her hands if I could fit in it. Wool’s expensive. You don’t wear it ‘cause of the color?”
“It’s wool,” Matt said in a disgusted voice.
“Yeah?” And?
“It itches.”
“Huh.” Now that Frank was paying attention, it was a bit itchy, but the feeling faded with his concentration. Still, if he could feel it, must be much worse for Matt. “Next time, ask your client to use cashmere yarn.”
Matt laughed, and Frank smiled again, broader this time. There was so much blood on his hands, but he could still make his—boyfriend? partner?—laugh.
Frank was half-asleep when Matt said quietly, “I can clean out another drawer if you need.”
Frank blinked open his eyes, pulled back to watch Matt’s face. “What?”
“So you don’t have to do laundry every week. It gets expensive.”
Frank glanced away and then back, trying to decide how to ask the question. “A drawer?”
“Two? A closet? Some space under the stairs for your weapons?”
Frank blinked, swallowed. “I mean, uh. I got a safehouse with all my shit in it.”
Matt nodded. His eyes flicked towards the floor, pointedly away from Frank, then back. “You can keep it, if you want. But you don’t have to. If you want.”
Frank looked away this time, trying to decide. “Yeah,” he finally said, then shifted closer to kiss him, once, gently. “Yeah, alright.”
#fratt#daredevil#punisher#my fic#my writing#mine#anna answers#which of these tags did i used to use i can't remember#crying i never write them being domestic bc it's not what i love about them most but F U C K#I LOVE THEM BEING DOMESTIC!!!!!#I LOVE THEM BEING IN LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!#THANK YOU ANON!!!!!!!!#sorry if this is bad lmao
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Hi! I'm not sure if you've done this before, but my prompt is: 2023 Mulder and Scully rediscovered an old copy of their Hollywood AD film. Thanks so much!😍
It was the kind of autumn Gothic novels were written for, blustery and orange-gold with purple velvet twilights. The house was creaky with uneven seams that the cold seeped into, left Scully in thick wool socks at breakfast, flannel pajamas at bedtime.
She went to the thrift store after work to hunt for handmade quilts. She liked to rescue them from the sad racks under fluorescent lights, imagined women gossiping and sewing them with fingers as nimble as any surgeon. Remembered how Playtex seamstresses sewed the first space suits with 1/64th of an inch tolerances.
Scully perused the DVD bin as she waited in line, a Rising Sun quilt in shades of blue over her arm. She smiled as she went through them, remembering the times she had seen the films. A Few Good Men, When Harry Met Sally, Gladiator, and…oh.
Christ.
Scully felt her face go hot, glanced around as though anyone were paying attention. She tucked The Lazarus Bowl under the quilt, tossed a twenty on the counter, and fled.
***
Mulder hadn’t really stopped smirking since she came home with it, cracking wise as he assembled a large plate of nachos for them to share.
Scully, angry at herself for this weakness, glared at him from the depths of a laundry-basket quilt in shades of green.
“Should I call Walter?” he asked, settling next to her. “Your main squeeze?”
“Fuck off.”
“How many Hail Marys from Sister Spooky for that?” He hit play.
Scully, visible only as narrowed eyes and a messy bun, watched Téa Leoni sprint across the screen in Manolo Blahniks.
Mulder loaded a chip with refried beans. “Look at her go,” he said with admiration. “You’ve got to be impressed with her commitment to verisimilitude.”
Her onscreen doppelgänger paused to let her bosom heave.
“I would never run in that bra, that would just ruin your neck.”
“Well, that’s why she got paid the big bucks.”
They watched in silence for a while longer, eating, listening to the wind scrape tree branches together over the mortifying dialogue.
“You ever miss it?” Scully asked. She’d be sixty in a few months. Sixty, my god. She was thirty-six when this mess had come out and had been starting to feel past her prime just then.
She’d been a child. An infant.
Mulder made a non-committal noise around a pickled jalapeño. “Sixty-two now, I’d have been punted out 5 years ago anyway.”
“I think the kids say yeeted now,” Scully remarked. “We’d have been yeeted.”
“That’s very lit of you, Scully.”
“I’m hip to the lingo. All the new residents are like…sixteen.”
Gary Shandling waved his gun, made dire threats that violated the Geneva Convention.
“Look at this fucking idiot,” Mulder scowled. “I showed him how to hold the thing, Jesus Christ.”
Scully smirked. “You ever show him whether you dress to the left or the right?”
He grabbed her under the quilt, drew her against him as the windows rattled. “Just you. In the limo, if I recall. God this is a terrible movie.”
“Only on the way back,” she clarified, his hands under her shirt. “I made you buy me dinner first.”
“Always a lady,” he mumbled into her neck. “Though…that was the Bureau card. I guess ol’ Walter bought you dinner and I just reaped the benefits.”
Scully shoved him away.
“Wh-“
“I can’t live this lie any longer, Fox. I’m in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner.”
#xf fanfic#xfiles fanfic#msr#my fic#prompt#hollywood a.d.#do not even ask me about the new baby i swear to god
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i just reread ur Love Potion no. 9 and now I’m thinking about es!dean cooking ls!sam a ribeye bc he has a KITCHEN here and ls!sam trying to make himself eat it <3 anyway love ur stuff so much
EEP! thank you anon! i love domestic winchesters so much, lol!
this idea crawled into my head and stuck there until i wrote it. this is humiliatingly long but thank you for the prompt!!! your brain anon!!!
mwah!! mwah!!! <3
the smell brings sam into the kitchen. younger dean is standing near the stovetop, shuffling dishes around. when sam clears his throat, about to ask what he's making, the kid jumps.
"are you making dinner?" sam asks, confused. dean picks up the dishtowel, wiping his hands. sam's younger self and older dean went out to get extra spark plugs for the old junker in the garage an hour ago, and sam was planning on reheating some takeout from the other night.
dean hasn't dropped the dishtowel, kneading it between his hands like he's trying to strangle it.
"yeah, y'know. grandpa told me that i--he--us. we? do a lot of the cooking."
sam rolls his eyes because dean has gotten in the habit of calling older dean 'grandpa' and 'the geezer' and 'ol dusty.' it's cute.
but gosh, the smell. sam's stomach roils. dean must see something shift on his face because he's quick to explain.
"d'you remember when we were stuck outsida asheville? and the only thing we had were those hotdogs?"
sam can't help but wrinkle his nose. he definitely remembers. dean had done everything he could do dress them up and make it different, but they went on a hotdog strike for months after, only choosing other food if they had a choice.
"i got real handy with the grill. that's...kinda the only gourmet cooking i've got under my belt. i asked, but. uh. anyway. i made you steak? a ribeye steak?"
it sounds like a question at the end and sam's stomach sinks because oh shit. dean made this. dean made this for me. sam looks over dean's shoulder, easier than it would be if dean were his older self, pounds of muscle not packed in yet.
that's where he's been. he's been in here since before the other two even left. cooking dinner. for sam. to eat.
it's not even a question of if sam's going to do it. because he is going to do it.
it's a question of how neutral can he make his face as he chokes it down.
and oh god, it's huge. the steak is as big as dean's face, and sam knows for a fact that he must have picked it out specifically, because dean did not have that thing in their fridge.
sam's stomach goes wobbly with the image of this little dean, trailing in aisles in the local grocery store with a hat pulled low over his eyes (like they had all agreed to do until this blew over), deciding which steak sam would like the best.
"oh wow!" sam says, trying to sound encouraging. "it's big."
dean flushes fourteen different shades of pink over a period of ten seconds, and yeah. sam sighs. he's going to eat the fucking steak.
six minutes later, after dean had pushed sam down into a chair and let his hand on sam's shoulder linger for two seconds longer than it should have--
(and really, dean is not smooth. sam wished he had known back in 2006 that dean was this easy to fluster because he would've fallen to his knees in shitty motel carpet ten years early and saved them all a lot of heartache.)
--sam is staring at easily sixteen ounces of meat. to dean's credit, it looks like it should feature on a grilling magazine or something. but all sam can smell is the slightly seared odour of flesh.
"and i heard that you like greens, so--" sam tears his eyes away and dean awkwardly balances a bagged salad in his hands. sam feels like crying. this is going to be a rough few minutes.
"share it with me," sam asks, begs really, but dean just shakes his head.
"nah, man. i made it for you. i've got one for me." and sure enough, sam's stomach sinks as dean brings over another plate to the table with a much more reasonably sized offering.
"great." sam says, smiling bleakly. his throat is clogged and thick when he swallows. he tastes acid at the back of his throat. they sit in silence for a few minutes while sam pops the salad bag, trying to frantically puzzle out how he's going to eat this thing.
he could eat it as fast as possible? give his nerves less time to process the hot skin sliding down his throat. but the chances of him throwing up would increase exponentially. he could chew and hide bites in his napkin? but dean would catch it.
sam's stomach sinks. he's going to have to chew it. and swallow it. and let it sit in his stomach. heavy and full. skin grease and meat tearing under his teeth. sam's mind whites-out with the memory of the cage, of being forced to eat his own thigh down to the bone.
"so..." dean asks, "how long have we lived here?"
sam looks up, and realizes that dean is gripping his beer bottle so tight that it looks like it might shatter in his hand. sam softens. kid looks like he's going to shit himself.
"you know i can't tell you that." sam chides. and he picks up his fork. he picks up his knife. he braces himself. and he cuts.
"and what are your...what are your plans?" dean asks, thirty minutes later. they've been talking back and forth, trading memories of things pre-2006. sam's been trying to keep this strictly common knowledge, and dean--unlike sam's younger self--takes it mostly in stride.
sam feels an automatic reflex to burp rising in his throat, and he locks his muscles as much as he can because if he feels the taste of aerosolized meat in his mouth again, he will vomit.
half the steak is gone, and dean's food is completely gone. he doesn't seem to be in any rush, and keeps giving sam more beer. sam keeps having to take sips after each bite to wash the taste away as soon as he can, so he appreciates it. dean seems more and more surprised that sam isn't letting more slip, and sam smirks to think of how much of a light-weight he used to be.
is dean trying to get him drunk? sam's kind of flattered, he thinks.
"my plans?" sam repeats, raising an eyebrow.
"yeah. y'know. for the future."
sam looks at dean appraisingly. it could be a ploy for information, but for some reason, dean looks prematurely disappointed, like he's bracing himself for bad news. sam quickly takes another bite, thin enough that he can swallow it down without chewing at all.
"well." sam says, slowly. taking another swig of beer. "i've always wanted a dog. but--" he smiles. "'grandpa' says no. he's afraid it's going to get hair all over the car."
dean blinks at him. like he's waiting for something else. but when sam just stuffs another bite in his throat, dean cracks a hesitant smile.
"well. grandpa's very wise. i've always said so. dander is shit for leather."
sam smiles, rolling his eyes, when he hears footsteps.
"did someone grill out inside--" dean. older dean. he rounds the corner, and freezes when he sees the steak in front of sam. his younger self sitting across from him. "what the fuck?"
"dean, it's okay--" sam says, quickly, before dean can say anything, but dean is already storming across the room.
"did you eat this?" he demands, but before sam can say anything, dean whirls on his younger self. "he doesn't eat meat, jackass."
the younger dean blanches. "what? yeah he does. we eat burgers all the time."
"not my sam, one tree hill." dean turns around to face sam again. "are you okay?"
in truth, sam already feels the meat settling oddly in his stomach. he feels like he's going to be sick. but he just glares at dean instead, furious. the cage is sam's to tell--or sam's to bury, in this case. dean's tone is too acerbic for young dean to not pick up on the weight of it. it's clear from dean's tone alone that sam's aversion to meat is not a choice made on ethics.
younger dean looks like he's about to cry, sitting back in his chair. silence stretches for a second.
"give us a minute." sam snaps. dean flushes a furious shade of scarlet.
"what the hell? i'm not--"
"dean." sam says, cutting. dean peters into silence, and sam looks at both deans, one furious and one crestfallen. "he was doing something nice."
"by forcing you to--"
sam puts a hand on dean's, pushing the plate in his hands down. he makes eye contact, and sees the concern there. dean's never been good at letting sam take care of himself, and sam can already see how a version of himself 'hurting' sam is making him ready to start throwing punches. he softens.
"i'm going to be fine. let me handle this, please. i'll catch up with you later."
dean's mouth twists up in a snarl. "sam--"
"later." sam repeats, and dean growls something unintelligible as he storms out of the room. sam sags forward, finally allowing himself to process how full and ill he feels. how the alien flesh in his stomach feels revolting, thick.
"why didn't you say anything?" a quiet voice. sam looks up, smiling a genuine smile this time, and allowing it to look as weird as it probably does.
"i can't." sam says, apologetic. he's not going to tell dean anything about it. he can't know. dean rubs a hand over his face.
"i'm not used to not knowing you, sammy." he murmurs, looking sick. he looks so young that sam's chest contracts. what a sorry pair they make.
"you know me." sam reassures softly. "i'm your little brother."
dean looks up at him then, huffing an unamused snort. they look at each other for a long while, sam tracing the round curves of dean's face. his wide eyes. sam wonders what dean sees when he looks at him.
"yeah. okay." dean says, finally. "'m sorry."
sam shrugs. "how about we get outta here? there's a diner down by the movies that makes a mean veggie burger."
dean nods, still looking lost.
"they also make the best pecan pie in the state. we've checked."
dean snorts, and there he is: sam's big brother. young, and lost, but undeniably here, in the swoop of his bottom lip as he smiles.
sam's chest expands with his first full breath in almost an hour, and something else. something warm.
"i'll be the judge of that." dean says, cocky and all false-reassurance. sam wants to kiss him. but he stands instead, and nods towards the door.
"lead the way."
~~~
i saw something the other day that suggested veggie!sam was a hot take, and i think i'm only a partial veggie!sam believer. i think it comes and goes--he has good and bad days.
i can only imagine the cage made sam's relationship to consuming meat weirder. but who knows! thank you again for the prompt anon!!!
-lizzy
#ask box#lizzy answers#ES/LS verse#anon <3#cw gore#only kinda? but i'm gonna be safe!#1.7k?? i just need to write the full fic at this point i'm rattling the bars of my enclosure
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DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 1. ISAIAH HOWARD
A/N: the lack of fics is atrocious and it’s also whack that the number of fics *SPOILER* that decide to unalive Isaiah. I’m looking at you archiveofourown and I don’t like that so I’m here to write a little sum sum. Something that is full of love and takes place months before the events of the show :) + I won’t be surprised if this flops but it’s been on my mind to write something since October but we’re here now so if you end up enjoying this please give me a like.
PROMPTS are from HERE + I’m using: 4.) Gift giving & 21.) “You’ve really made my Christmas this year.”
Synopsis: in which Isaiah has come to terms with losing one of his childhood best friends, just for them to turn up in town again after all these years.
<- read my December anthology prompts here.
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Port Lawrence was home once upon a time but being back in the water town brought on all the anxieties—a feeling you surely didn’t miss. The air was nippy compared to the hot continent you spent the last six months in. That became your home and Port Lawerence felt like more of a distant memory until chats with James became more frequent.
The animated boy never had any issue making you feel comfortable. He was the first you reached out to about a month ago and it felt like you never left with your various chats—although there was a huge time difference between you two—James was always interested to know the truth along with what you’ve been up to now that you didn’t live in the states but did question how you were holding up mentally most importantly. Which you appreciated but didn’t want that to be the focus of your conversations, which he respected.
A top tier friend that one is and it’s not something you ever wanted to forget, especially since you two used to be neighbors. Now here you were, down the hill making your way down James’ driveway to the festive decorated home. All the lights and wreaths were beautiful and you knew that he and his mother, Ms. Etten usually took great pride in decorating every year.
That hasn’t changed.
As you stood on the front steps just taking the scenery in, you didn’t have time to ring the doorbell as the front door was yanked open, revealing Margot Stokes who appeared with a less than thrilled expression on her face. She’s glaring over her shoulder before she turns back, facing you and halting her steps of stepping on the door stoop.
“Oh my god, it’s you. Hi!” Margot scrambled over her words, until a smile graced her face.
Awkwardly waving you say, “hey uh, Margot. You remember me?”
Margot rolls her lime green eyes, “of course I do. I don’t forget faces and I’ve also been sworn to secrecy by James a thousand times to not say anything to Isaiah.”
“Right…he’s in there?”
“Oh he’s in there alright, glued straight to Allison’s ass.” Margot muttered making you raise a brow.
“Allison?”
Margot sighed, “I’m surprised james didn’t mention that to you considering how much you’ve been talking…but yeah that’s Isaiah’s girlfriend. They’ve been together since the end of last semester? I don’t even want to bring up what I’ve witnessed against my will between those two living right next door to Isaiah. Truly ruined my summer.”
You grimaced, “Spare me the details please.”
“For sure.” Margot fanned her hand about with a frown, “Hate to be the gossip but just figured you should know…?”
Rolling your shoulders you let out a deep exhale. You didn’t think much about Isaiah having a girlfriend and it’s not like you thought it would never be a possibility. In fact you always though Isaiah and Margot had a thing. You left Port Lawrence two years prior, shortly after turning fourteen during a brutal November. Ties were cut off completely with everything that had to do with this town (even your best friends) and the more you tried to get answers the more the manipulation shut you up while be locked away. It took your grandparents and a lengthy battle with the court to get you out of a bad situation into a loving one.
You thanked them everyday and saw the beauty in life once you were able to live it. Now here you were back in the one place that felt suffocating and not far from the modern cage that should have been home.
A lot can happen in two years right?
Not having the time to provide Margot with a response, James butts into the conversation, peering in between the ajar door, “if you’re gonna storm off Margot, it would nice if you actually closed my front door, you’re letting all the toasty warmth out—YOU MADE IT!”
You couldn’t brace yourself fast enough as James body slammed you into a bone crushing hug, holding onto you as you fumbled along the wet snow. “Sheesh James! When did you get so strong?! You’re gonna cause my asthma to act up.”
“Shit, I can’t believe I forgot about that! My bad.” James was quick to stabilize you.
Lightly shaking your head at him, you both stared at each other for a moment before falling into grins and yanking each other back into a hug, rocking from side to side. “I’ve missed you bud,” you whispered to the curly haired boy.
You feel him nod, “feeling is definitely mutual! Now let’s get your butt in here before your nose turns into Rudolph.”
“Haha,” you mock at James who grabs your mitten covered hand before pulling you towards his house.
You feel your heart squeeze at the thought of all eyes on you but James swore it was just a small gathering, yet something in your gut told you that probably wasn’t true. He pauses at the door as he glances at Margot who has her arms crossed tightly while staring off into the foggy distance.
“Hey, Margot. You know you don’t have to leave right? Don’t let Allison get to you, okay?”
“I won’t,” she affirms, “I just needed some air.”
“Okay girl, whatever you need. My place is the safe space.” James smiles as Margot gives a small smile in return, before deciding to follow the two back inside but picking the bench in the entryway as her spot for now.
You turn back to James who’s pulling you all throughout his house full of students, not giving you enough time to soak in the massive Christmas decor but you pick up on a Ms. Ponytail (Ariana Grande) tune that a pretty Afro-haired girl is belting to no other than Isaiah Howard in the living room. There’s a crowd cheering her on and James nods his head enthusiastically before suddenly sending a glance to you. He lightly bumps your shoulder, gaining your attention.
“What do you think?”
“About…”
“Isaiah’s girlfriend, Allison,” James states, “don’t worry, I won’t say a thing.”
“Kinda like you not telling me he actually has a girlfriend.” You give him a pointed look while James raises his hands in surrender.
“…if I told you then you may have changed your mind about coming.” James rushes out a defense.
Frowning you say, “ and why would you think that?”
James mouth is agape before you’re swept off your feet by no other than Lucas Parker. A instant roll of eyes comes from a freckled face James, “Easy Lucas, we just got them back and don’t need you encouraging them to break something before Christmas gets here.”
Lucas scoffs at James before smiling down at you, “I knew that was you but had no idea you even thought about coming back to this place, which hurts that I was left out of the loop.”
You shake your head at the spontaneous kid with the wild smile that you often used to get into some reckless shit with. He was also one of the reasons why your parents wanted to get you out of town and fast but you always stood on the fact that it wasn’t ever his fault. You had a brain of your own and if you wanted to get into something crazy that you knew both Isaiah and James weren’t down to do, Lucas was the first person you texted. It was always a no questions asked kind of vibe between the two of you.
Between the both of you he had the most broken bones while you endured the scrapes, bruises, bad sprains, concussions, etc…Oh if your trash parents could see you now standing in the same room with the one kid they never wanted around their child.
“It is the most wonderful time of the year isn’t it?” You stated making Lucas breathe out a laugh as he tossed an arm across your shoulder, taking that feedback with ease.
“Hell yeah it is! Good to see you, come check me out when you have time. I gotta see someone about something.” Lucas told you with a squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.
James watched him go with a shake of his head, “he’s only gotten worse by the way.”
“How?”
“I’ll let him fill you in on that later,” James widens his eyes before grabbing your hand once more, “we have much more important matters to take care of so…Isaiah!” He called out after Allison finished with her mini concert and you dug your feet into the floor.
James whips his head back to you and is immediately confused, “what’re you doing?”
“I should be asking you the same thing!” You hissed while James blinked, “don’t call him over here, I’m not ready.”
“What?” James asked, “you had twenty-four hours to get ready! I told you he would be here, don’t tell me it’s because you found out about—
Glaring at your old freckled face friend you snap, “it has nothing to do with her. I don’t even know Allison. First it was Margot and now it’s you throwing that in my face and it’s really not like that.”
“Then what is it?” James pressed.
You whisper, “…what if he hates me?”
James dropped his shoulders with a shake of his head, “we both know Isaiah can be an oblivious asshole sometimes but I really doubt he hates you. We were both devastated when your parents took you away and we lost complete contact with you. It was like we were mourning you for forever and now we got you back. Time is precious and you’ll never know just how much if you decide to hide from one of your besties.”
Your relationship with James was the opposite of what it was with Isaiah. The both of you had no problem being open, having heart to hearts, and expressing love with each other whereas with Isaiah it was more of a push and pull kind of friendship? Don’t get that misconstrued though, the both of you would do anything for one another but you two were more likely to bump heads by challenging each other. James was the first to approach you at eleven years old and had the bright idea to form, “the three musketeers,” well in his case, “muskepeers,” thanks to his braces back then. It was rocky at the start but you couldn’t imagine life without Isaiah.
Until you had to.
You took a deep inhale and exhale making James nod his head in approval. He also proceeded with the same action as you, coaching you and himself because internally he also didn’t know how the hell this would all turn out. It’s been killing him keeping this secret from Isaiah and although Allison was okay in his eyes, he didn’t want to risk telling her and having Allison blab it to Isaiah. So he put his trust in Margot, ranting to her downtown outside of a bookshop one late fall night. Margot weighed out the pros and cons with James, despite the fact that personally she would have warned Isaiah beforehand.
However she only knew bits and pieces of what happened with you. The gossip around town was simply your family whisking you off to live in some cult commune after cliff diving with Lucas went wrong—which was not true. Maybe living in a commune would have been better over what they put you through, who knows?
Once ready, the both of you turned to face the living room but found no other than Isaiah standing there watching the two of you. There was no smile on Isaiah’s face which was the true contrast with your previous interaction with James but shock was written in his dark cocoa wide-set doe eyes. Swallowing you glanced at James, who gave you a curt nod and you stepped towards Isaiah.
With your eyes set on him and the Christmas pop music fading in the background, you used that as motivation to keep going. Isaiah didn’t step back but he continued watching you as if he was in disbelief still. Allison moved to the side, also staring but not without shooting a look at James, wondering why she wasn’t in on this…secret?
Isaiah still looked like Isaiah as your eyes briefly scanned over his face. He was only a little taller, hair grown out from its fade with curls decorating the top of his head. The baby face was also fading, which you gripped before pulling him into a forceful hug. That action alone made Isaiah forget how to breathe, his eyes stung as they flicked back to James who was now pressing his fingertips to his lips in happiness and Allison watched on unsure.
Isaiah wanted to be angry, not really at you but the fact that everything was so screwed up for you. It was all bottled up but he couldn’t help but to swallow it down as he raised his hands, which shook before he tightly gripped onto the back of your jacket, bunching the material beneath his touch and buried his nose against your shoulder, clenching his eyes shut.
You were here.
Time went on for awhile with the both of you just holding onto each other to the point Allison started to tap her feet. James wouldn’t let that be ruined and even snapped a picture on his phone for safe keeping. He wanted Isaiah to have all the time that he needed and he wouldn’t let Allison disrupt that. So he nudged her towards the kitchen, eyes continuing to watch his friends lovingly before he went to join allison in the kitchen.
“You’ve got something in your eye partner,” you teased once the both of you pulled apart.
Isaiah roughly wiped at his eye with his sleeve and scoffed, “no I don’t, shut up.”
Once the curly haired boy gathered himself he found the will to breathe normally just staring at you, “I feel like I’m still in a dream. Is this for real?”
“Come here,” you pulled your hand from inside your mitten to pinch at Isaiah’s neck, twisting the skin, making him yelp and slap your hand away.
He yelled, “ow! The hell was that for?!”
You laughed, “you wanted to see if you were dreaming so that was me telling you you’re awake so…don’t be a baby.”
“A baby? You probably broke skin and that’s gonna ruin my skincare tonight so you’re gonna have to see me outside.” Isaiah pointed in the direction of the front entrance with a hardened stare.
Waving your hands in faux fear you laughed in his face while he gripped you by the collar, ready to drag you outside so he could kick your butt with a snowball, “why must we fight when it’s almost Christmas, it’s supposed to be about joy and you’re trying to go to war but wait! I know how to handle this! I have something for you, Isaiah.”
Isaiah huffed as he let go of you, fixing your collar for you as you stood up straight with a thankful nod. Digging into your crossbody bag, you pulled out a stripped small box.
“No way,” Isaiah eyed you suspiciously, “you show up here like a ninja and you bring me a gift? I feel like this may also be a set up but I’ll prepare myself this time.”
Smiling at the boy you held out the box, awaiting Isaiah to grab it. Once he did he slowly brought it up to his eyesight, inspecting every inch of it and shook it around. Shaking your head in disapproval, Isaiah stuck his tongue against his top lip as he began to unravel the ribbon from the red and white box.
You clasped your hands together and pressed them against your chin in anticipation.
Craning his neck forward, cautiously he lifts the top of the box open, then closes one eye as if to protect himself—which was humorous really. Once Isaiah realized there was nothing inside that would bring harm to him, he shifts the top of the box to sit underneath it, to pull out a chicken nugget ornament with a Santa hat on top.
Which actually brings a wide grin to Isaiah’s face.
One you’ve seen plenty times before. One that reminds you of the time you got him to smile for the first time at eleven years old.
It was a insider back to your childhood of Isaiah’s love for chicken nuggets and how you referred to him as such when you were both younger. Inside the box was also a note which he began to read but shook his head, folding it back and placing everything back where it should be. He wouldn’t read it here at this house party full of nosy onlookers. Isaiah wanted to read it on his own time, where it was quiet and would keep the nightmares away. Closing the box, he holds out his arm welcoming you into another hug which you sunk into.
He whispers against your head, “You’ve really made my Christmas this year.”
Those words made you soft as you squeezed yourself closer to his chest. He didn’t hate you just like James said but you knew a conversation must be had at some point during your time here. However the bond between you two outweighed it all for the moment.
“…shit I honestly didn’t get you anything.” Isaiah suddenly said, “if I had known—
You snort, “that’s okay…you’re not exactly the best gift giver anyway. That’s my thing out of us three.”
“Hey! there was that one time—you’re not wrong.” Isaiah accepted his defeat with a scrunch of his nose and a solid nod.
Laughing you looked up at Isaiah, arms still wrapped around each other, “you not hating me is all that I need as a present.”
Isaiah deeply frowned, “don’t ever think that…I actually like your annoying ass too much, partner.”
He winks.
With a dramatic gasp you playfully reach to tap Isaiah’s jawline, “me too, nugget. Me too.”
Isaiah presses a kiss to your forehead just before the both of you break apart to James kicking everybody out so that the three of you could enjoy all the rest of what this season will bring.
Not knowing what was to come next fall…
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Continue with the rest of my ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompts here.
#Spotify#queued#goosebumps#goosebumps 2023#goosebumps hulu#isaiah howard#Isaiah Howard goosebumps#Isaiah Howard x reader#james etten#Margot stokes#lucas parker#december prompts
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Oh, Well | Five Hargreeves
✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x afab!gender neutral!Plus Size Reader
✦ word count — 4.3k
✦ request — hi could i request a five/plus size reader smut where they kinda bicker a lot (have a lot of tension) and are stuck in a tight closet together hiding ?
✦ warnings — nsfw, some bickering, tension, awkwardness, hints at intrafamilial violence (just a comment, nothing major), reader has a scar, semi-clothed sex, unprotected sex (please don't do this), vaginal fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, cumshot, some kind of aftercare.
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"Yes, Diego, you can punch them if they don’t cooperate, what kind of question is that?!” Before Diego could answer, Luther turned to the other side and added, “Five, take (Name) with you."
"What?!" you complained.
"Luther, no!" Five whined.
You should have known that befriending this endearingly dysfunctional family would backfire one day.
Luther was such a nice person that you never imagined he would ever bestow this upon you. Viktor was your usual partner when you had to split, but he was with Allison now.
Klaus and Ben were inseparable so unless they needed a codebreaker, which was essentially what you were, you were not needed there.
There wasn't an enigma or code you couldn't figure out. Unless, of course, the fucking enigma was sentient and a pain in the ass.
God, Five got on your nerves like nobody else had even tried to. You didn't know what it was about him, but you couldn't keep yourself from fighting him on every little thing and, through months of putting up with his constant need of being right, you found out he felt the same.
Shit, Diego was stubborn but you would have taken him over Five any day without any complaints. He was Lila's problem, though, and at any other moment, you would have been relieved.
"Why can't I go with you?"
Luther blinked. "Because I can do it on my own. Besides, Five is going to need you to gather the info."
"Why can't you and I go gather the info?"
"You want Luther, Luther, to sneak into a heavily guarded building?"
You would have thought him to be offended if you didn't know him. "I mean, yeah. It's better than putting up with you."
Five lifted his hands in exasperation. "I am surrounded by children!"
"That's rich coming from the guy who looked like one not even six months ago."
Viktor stood between you and Five, placing a hand on his brother's chest and the other on your shoulder. "Okay, stop it you two!"
"They started."
"I don't care, Five," Viktor put a stop to the incoming rant. "We're all adults, so let's act like it."
You nodded at him. It was always embarrassing to be chastised by Viktor in front of everybody. They never judged, but in your mind, they were thinking 'you just had to make Viktor step in, huh?' and yeah, maybe, but it wasn't intentional.
"Let's just... get it over with, yeah?" You offered, looking around at everybody.
Lila pointed at you. "What they said. I'm getting bored."
Why couldn't you go with Lila? You would have so much fun... well, maybe not her because your powers weren't that useful when fighting, but still.
Resigned, you asked Five, "So, how are we getting inside?"
"Give me your hand."
"What?"
"I'm getting us inside, genius."
Oh, that, yeah. "... okay." You offered your hand to him.
Five roughly grabbed it. The discomfort in the pit of your belly was over as quickly as it started. If only the corridor you appeared in was empty… oh, well.
Eyes were on you and Five and for the first time since you met him, you wished he looked 13 so that you could make a bullshit excuse about your little brother needing the bathroom.
Five didn’t even try to be subtle, choosing to ask about the office you were looking for openly. Unsurprisingly, security was called.
He grabbed your wrist and brought you with him, jumping from floor to floor.
Approaching steps prompted you to share a look. Opening the door closest to you, Five pushed you inside an empty closet.
He closed the door and shuffled to tug on the chain dangling between you to turn the light on. "Let's hope they stop following us soon."
"They wouldn't be following us if you knew how to keep your stupid mouth shut," you whisper-shouted.
Five inhaled deeply, lifting his finger to point at you before deciding it wasn't worth it. "Just do as I say."
"Yes, because that—"
He covered your mouth with his hand. "You're gonna get us caught if you continue being petty."
As if he wasn't petty!
But he was right, as much as it pained you to admit. You nodded against his hand so he would move off you. As much as he could move in such a closed space anyway.
Five removed his hand and rested his back against the door. He also put the lock on just to be safe.
"Do you know what time is it?" you spoke as quietly as you could.
"Why? Got somewhere to be?"
"Just curious."
"It must be like six or something. We should be out of here by nine."
You hummed.
"What's bothering you?"
"It's hot in here."
"Take your sweater off,” he simply said, as though that was the solution to all of your problems.
The sweater never came off, he should have known that by now.
"Was it a gift or something?"
"No."
"Look, just take the thing off, let your body cool off before you dehydrate."
"Okay. Turn around."
Five groaned. "There's no space."
"I don't want you to look at my body."
"I know what bodies look like."
"Yeah, but this is mine."
“Would it make you feel better if I turn the light off?”
“No.”
“Tough luck.” He started undoing the first two buttons of his shirt.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“You’re not the only one who’s hot.” He stopped in his tracks, dropping his hands. “I mean as in—”
“I know what you meant, don’t make it awkward.”
Too late. It was awkward from the second he brought his hands up to undo the first button. Fuck.
As though he didn’t know it was already so fucking awkward you would rather be out there being chased, he undid the placket buttons on his sleeves and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.
He couldn’t be idiotic enough to not know what he was doing. And if he was, you just hoped whichever God existed would have mercy on you.
Five looked almost innocent, peering at you as you did your best to not stare at him. As if there was anything else to stare at in the first place. Your goddamned luck.
The tiny closet was getting hotter, and you were sure the enclosed space had nothing to do with that.
Resigned, you grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it off. Five cleared his throat.
You looked at the wall beside you. “Stop staring.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
You expected many crazy things to happen that day yet standing before Five in just a white undershirt and jeans wasn’t one of them. It wasn't a proper undershirt but a camisole with bra support which made it even worse.
His silence was such a bad sign, too. Since when didn’t he have the energy to fight with you? There were ways to fight almost silently. Besides, there wasn’t any sound around you apart from the sighs he let out from time to time.
You held your sweater in your hand, feeling your skin grow sweaty as the weight and thickness of the material enveloped your palm.
"Why don't you just go create a distraction or something?"
"Because I would have to kill over one hundred innocent employees."
"There has to be another way, Five."
"Huh."
"What?"
"You rarely call me by my name."
"Well, I would do it more often if you were nicer."
"Would you?" For once, it didn't sound like a challenge.
"Ah, probably not,” you admitted. You weren’t about to lie to yourself just to spite him. You had done it many times before and it never ended well.
"Are you scared we're going to die here?"
"No. I would if the closet was air-tight."
"So it's not the possibility of dying or that you're busy later."
"Exactly."
"Well, I'm lost, then."
That was a first.
You shifted, doing your best to not lean into him. “I’m getting a cramp.”
He rested his hands on your waist, making you jump. “Sorry,” he softly apologized. “Just come here.” He brought your upper body onto his. “Stretch your legs.”
You groaned, immediately hiding your face in his chest to muffle your curses. Dropping your sweater, you fisted his shirt. “Fuck, it hurts.”
“Breathe, you’ll be okay.”
You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent by mere coincidence. It was rich, musky yet crisp.
“Thanks.” You lifted your head, forgetting you were so close.
Your noses bumped, you drew in a breath, and Five looked down. The warmth of his hands weighed on you, your knuckles were almost white as you viciously gripped his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded. And it was.
You would snap if you let go of his blue shirt, and you had the feeling he would snap if he moved his hands.
Searching for his eyes, you only found a parted mouth and the crease of his brow. You weren’t blind, or dumb, he looked attractive when he was focused — he was quite the looker in general, everybody in his family was.
But there was something about Five Hargreeves. It was a poorly kept secret between you and your conscience.
He whispered your name.
Your heart leaped in your chest. “Mmh?”
“Can I kiss you?”
You should have said no, you should have pretended this was a misunderstanding, you should have blamed the forced proximity of the situation. But that would make you a hypocrite and a coward, two things you hated with a passion. “Yes.”
He slanted his head as he closed the small gap between your faces, pressing his lips against yours. They were soft, perhaps too soft for the diet you had seen him follow, the most surprising part, however, was how willing you were to continue kissing him, how scared you were that he’d pull away.
Would it be weird if you kissed him more firmly? Did he even like that? How many boundaries would you cross if you dove into what you wanted?
You shakily rested your hands on his shoulders. The plan was to wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, a flawless one until you became frozen. His mouth slowly parted from yours, and barely moving any other muscle of his face, Five breathed heavily against your nose.
His lips were suddenly on yours again, so abruptly that the surprised sound your throat had made was swallowed by his kiss. He slowly slid his hands down your sides, reaching your outer thighs and tracing them up and down.
You quickly pulled away. "Turn the light off. Hurry."
Five withdrew a hand from your body and turned the light off. Breathless, he whispered, "Maybe we should keep it off."
"Yeah."
Voices echoed outside the closet. Five and you stood completely still.
This, silence, was uncommon between you. Insulting each other and complaining was your thing, yelling at each other too, not standing almost chest to chest, trying not to make a sound after having made out.
As the voices became fainter until they couldn't be heard anymore, you rested your head against the wall behind you. "Now what?"
"We wait for everybody to leave."
"Maybe we should have come at night."
"Luther didn't want to wait. You know how he is."
Luther worried, that was it, but you understood why his siblings didn't see it like that. You wouldn't have if he was your brother.
"Is the scar on your arm the reason you always wear long sleeves?"
You didn't think he'd ask. Or notice.
"They're comfortable."
"That wasn't my question."
You were glad he couldn't see you now. "Not many people know about it."
Five shifted. "What happened?"
"A fight at home went wrong."
His knee bumped yours as he got as close as possible. Five rested a hand on your waist.
"Can I touch it?" he breathed out the question against your face.
"The scar?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "I really want to touch it."
You opened your mouth to tell him it sounded weird, but you didn't dare say so. It wasn't that weird in the first place, scars were interesting and they felt nice when they weren't on your body.
Maybe he followed that logic. The thought was a little terrifying, you weren't looking to have things in common with Five.
Some would say you already had.
"Okay." You wished you could see his reaction, but it was for the best that you didn't.
The pads of his fingers were rough, skin dry, he probably had never applied moisturizer.
The movement was slow, he barely put pressure on your skin as he steadily traced the scar.
"Do you hate it?"
"Yes."
Five hummed, hand still on your arm. "I don't hate it."
You had no answer to his comment, not even a sarcastic one.
Was he expecting you to tell him more about it just because you had some time to waste?
That didn't sound like him. Five always asked for what he wanted, or took it if it was needed. You didn't hate that about him.
"I guess you don't have to live with it."
"I have scars of my own."
"Do you hate them?"
"No, but I think about them often." He wasn't interested in talking about himself, or his scars for that matter, and so he asked, "Can I kiss it?"
"If... you want to..."
"Why else would I ask?" His voice dropped as he leaned in.
His lips made contact with your skin and you jumped. Five didn't apologize.
He started near your elbow, at the bottom of the scar. His mouth was warm against your skin, too warm, almost burning.
You let out a shaky breath as he carried on, tracing your scar with his lips, kissing his way up.
Five kissed your skin past the scar until he reached your shoulder.
Your hand traveled to the back of his neck where you slid your fingers into his hair. Five sighed, pressing his lips against your neck as your fingers massaged his scalp.
His sighs quickly became quiet moans. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop pressing the pads of your fingers on his head.
Five pressed his body against yours, flush against your middle, hips pushing you against the wall.
Against your skin, he said, "Tell me to stop."
"No."
"No what?"
"Don't stop."
He took that as an encouragement to leave a mark on your neck, eliciting a whine from you.
“We gotta be quiet,” he reminded you.
Easier said than done.
He made it even harder by rolling his hips against yours, hands gripping your waist. Five kissed you again, his tongue slid past your lips just as you scratched his nape.
A few questions popped into your head. Where did he learn to kiss? How did he know the way you liked to be kissed? And could he maybe give tips to other guys so you wouldn't be left disappointed every time after him?
As though sensing your distraction, he asked against your lips, “Are you comfortable?”
“No,” you honestly answered. “But this will do.”
“You sure? We can—"
“Don’t you dare.”
He huffed a laugh and briefly pressed his lips against yours. “Very well...” Five dragged his hands down to your thighs. "Push your hips forward."
You did as you were told, making it easier for him to undo your jeans and pull them down. He grabbed at your thighs, sighing as his palms finally made contact with the soft skin there.
His fingers brushed the waistband of your panties, and in consequence your belly. "Is it okay if I take these off too?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
He softly pulled on them, as though scared he would tear them off. He probably would, the material was soft, and light to avoid any ventilation issues.
For a while, he just caressed your thighs, barely grazing your center. It was unnerving, but not unwelcome. Eventually, he reached where you needed him the most.
He parted your folds with his fingers. You gasped as he traced your slit and pursed your lips to keep quiet as he brushed your clit.
He slipped a finger into your pussy, eyes on you as he used the thin line of light sneaking in through the one to gauge your reaction. He breathed out a laugh — it sounded more like the type of smile one lets out while talking on the phone.
"Wish I could take my time with you," he admitted. "But I don't want to ruin your back." Saying that, he started pumping his finger inside you.
You had never been the quiet type, much less when being fingered, but the prospect of being caught by people who were already worried both of you would steal from them was exhilarating.
Five added a second finger, prompting you to quickly bring a hand of yours to cover your mouth. He leaned his forehead against the back of your hand, aiding you.
Your chest mirrored the rhythm of the rise and fall of his own. His free hand steadied you as he pushed harder into you, curling his fingers inside you.
You really wished you could see him, and perhaps that he could see how much pleasure he was bringing you. There was no doubt he could tell, but you had observed him for long enough to know he liked to watch.
Another godforsaken thing in common.
Lifting his head, he briefly let go of your body to pull your hand away from your mouth. His lips replaced your hand as he kissed you roughly, biting your bottom lip in the process.
"Help me out of these, will you?" he whispered.
You asserted he was talking about his trousers. He kissed you as you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants — you pulled them down, touching his clothed cock by mistake. He stopped moving his fingers inside you and made a sound in your mouth.
Instead of apologizing, now you intentionally touched his cock, grabbing it from on top of his underwear. Five broke the kiss and hissed.
"I'm gonna get them out of the way, okay?"
"Yeah," he quickly answered.
Once his cock was free, you slowly wrapped your hand around it. Giving it a gentle squeeze, you felt it throb; Five sighed.
Taking your time, —because although your feet were starting to hurt, you had many minutes to spare— you leisurely stroked his shaft. He resumed fingering you, trying to prove he could focus better than you.
You sped up, firmly squeezing his cock as you moved your fist up and down. The problem was, he sped up too and he had an advantage: he could easily keep his balance while standing up no matter what, he was probably used to jerking off standing up in the shower or something.
Your legs hurt, not only because the space was tight, but because you were tight around his fingers too and he showed you no mercy. You hated that he seemingly knew you so well.
Oh, well, you could accept defeat if you got to come.
Five kissed you softly, dragging his lips to your chin, then your jaw. He went slightly up to your ear and nipped at it. "Can't wait any longer," he whispered, giving you goosebumps.
Withdrawing your hand from his cock, you found yourself missing the weight on your hand. Soon, he pulled his fingers out of you and cruelly, noisily, licked them. With a satisfied hum, Five teased you by pressing the tip of his cock against your pussy.
The teasing was, thankfully, brief. "Are you ready? We can stop if you want."
"I'm ready," you assured him.
He didn't need convincing. Pushing his cock in, he growled. You did your best to only whimper lowly, to keep yourself from telling him to hurry up and fuck you — you didn't trust your voice or the things your loose tongue could spill as long as he moved.
And move he did, sure you weren't hurting and sure he wouldn't come by the second pump, Five pushed his hips forward, driving his cock deep into you.
As he sped up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, scared either of you would hit your head. With the same intention of avoiding an injury, Five firmly held your hips, digging his fingers into your skin as he fucked you.
There was no rhythm, no alternative either in the way he fucked you. The space was what it was, you couldn't fault him for the latter, but you wondered if, perhaps, he had thought about this before, if the lack of rhythm and the harsh way he was fucking you meant something more, or if you were merely getting too hung up on the fact that he knew how to fuck you just right.
He didn't treat you like couldn't take it as many did, there was no assumption on his behalf that you hadn't been fucked like this before, and he used it to his advantage. Five nipped at your skin, grabbed your body, and hammered into you with the presumption that this was how it was supposed to be.
And it was. You wished more people understood that.
You also wished he wasn't good at that. But he was, and he had you so close to the edge with just his cock that you kissed him so you wouldn't start babbling about it.
He smiled against your mouth because he knew.
Needing to breathe, you parted from his soft lips, letting a string of saliva hanging between your mouths, and admitted you were close. He didn't need that, or any other confirmation for that matter, but he didn't comment on it.
He fucked you through your orgasm, bringing you into his chest so you would muffle your moans with his skin as he wrapped an arm around your neck and covered his mouth.
Again, you wished you could see him. His hair must have been a mess and his face red. You could picture it, and it startingly got you to come.
He thrust in and out a few more times, before parting from you and pulling out. You could tell he was finishing himself off with his hand by the sound of his wet cock against his dry fist. Kissing him, you swallowed his grunts and moans.
Something warm coated your thighs. They must have looked pretty painted with his cum. You didn't stop kissing him, prompting him to grab you by the back of the head and give you the longest kiss you had ever been given.
Hesitant, you pulled away to finally catch your breath which mingled with his as you both breathed against each other.
"Do you have anything I can clean myself up with?"
"Uh... let me see." He went through his pocket. "It's gonna feel weird. I only have a convenience store receipt."
"It's better than walking around with cum on my skin."
"Is it?" he jokingly asked.
"Yes, you ass."
The paper was rough against your skin as Five did his best to clean you up.
In silence, you both fixed yourselves up. What happened would probably be obvious to anybody, there was no way to make yourself look presentable in the dark and without a mirror.
The thin strip of light disappeared. You pulled your cellphone from your pocket and tried to use it as a flashlight, but it was dead.
"Let's give it a few minutes," Five suggested. "Twenty, maybe."
"I have no way of measuring time."
"Counting seconds might help."
You didn't know if he was joking or not. He probably was, because his hands roamed your body until he found your hips. A bout of pain pierced through you as he hit your nose. "Ouch."
"Sorry. What was it?"
"My nose."
"Oh, I wasn't too far away."
"Please stop."
He whined, surely by mistake.
"Can't you wait fifteen minutes?"
"No."
You almost laughed at that. It would have been funny if your eyes weren't watery and your nose didn't burn.
He persisted, but instead of kissing you on the lips, his own brushed your nose. "It wasn't my intention."
"I get it. I'm not mad."
"Does it hurt?"
"Yup."
"I broke my nose once," he said, voice distant. "Dad was mad because I was supposed to spatial jump before anybody could hit me."
"Were you distracted?"
After a pause, he hummed in affirmation. "I couldn't save everybody that day."
"But you tried."
"Yeah. Only I tried. And it brought me a broken nose and a month grounded."
You put your hands on his and dragged them up his arms until you reached his shoulders. Stopping there for a moment, you considered pulling away. You didn't.
You grabbed his neck, using your thumbs to caress his cheeks. You felt him smile, something so rare you would have thought the world would end any second now.
He dragged his lips down, not before giving your nose another peck, and traced your lips with his, not quite kissing you.
A hand left your hip. A click resonated in the room and you squeezed your eyes shut as harsh light hit you.
"A warning would have been nice."
He didn't answer. Five cupped your cheek in his palm, using his thumb to trace your nose. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him already staring at you.
He tapped your nose with his thumb. "We shouldn't tell anybody about this. I don't need Diego knowing he was right when he said there was sexual tension between us."
"God, no." Did Five Hargreeves just boop your nose?
Not giving you time to say or think anything else, Five kissed you for the last time that evening, trapping your bottom lip between his mouth.
As he, begrudgingly, broke the kiss, he handed you your sweater. "Come on, if we hurry up, we might have time to get a drink later."
You hoped you were able to hide how excited his comment made you feel, but going by the twinkle in his eyes, you hadn’t.
Oh, well, there were worse people to take a liking to.
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for the sleepover the suggestive prompt from the smut list (our muses are hanging out and end up on the topic of turn ons, kinks, and what they’re attracted to.) with bob? i feel like he would be all flustered and shy but then will tell reader he’s into all this kinky stuff?? and you decided can decide if it gets explicitly smutty at the end or if it’s just implied (or whatever you feel like). thank you!!! love your writing <3
nsfw | 18+ only | discussions of kinks but no actual sex
bob came over for a movie night one saturday when your schedules finally lined up. he had become a really close friend since you moved to lemoore. you were trying to reach for something on the top shelf at the grocery store and ended up falling back and into his arms. that was nearly six months ago and during that time, your feelings for him grew. spending saturday nights watching trashy movies sitting next to him did absolutely nothing to dilute those feelings.
he arrived at your door with pizza in hand and a smile on his face. he gave you a quick hug as he entered and you tried your best to ignore the way your heart fluttered. you plopped down next to each other on the couch, catching up some since it had been a couple of weeks, while you scrolled through a number of movies to watch.
“i’ve never seen fifty shades of grey,” bob said as he grabbed another slice of pizza and you whipped your head towards him.
“oh my god, we gotta watch it. it’s so bad,” you always picked movies that you could make fun of.
as the movie played you both would make comments here and there, laughing at the cringy dialogue.
“that would NEVER work on me,” you said, “this guy clearly doesn’t know what turns a girl on.”
“what does then?” bob asks before realizing what just came out of his mouth. he starts spitting out apology after apology for crossing the line and you just grab his hand and tell him it’s okay. you press pause on the movie and turn towards him, tucking your feet under you. trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. you can’t believe you’re about to discuss your kinks and turn ons with bob floyd.
“i, um… i like a lot of foreplay. you know, a lot of guys just want to get to the point but it’s nice when someone pays attention to your needs too. bondage isn’t off the table but if they just pin my wrists using their hands, that’s really nice. uh, breath play is pretty up there. oh god, i can’t believe im telling you these things,” you bury your face in your hands, willing yourself to not get turned on imagining bob doing these things to you.
bob just clears his throat and not so subtly readjusts himself, turning towards you.
“i’ll, uh, i’ll go so you don’t have to. im pretty into all the things you said. edging is a big turn on for me, giving and receiving. kinda goes to my head when i have that control over someone. exhibitionism.” his face is red but his voice is calm and steady. he nodded to you for you to go.
“oh, um.. big fan of praise, but also don’t mind degradation to a certain extent.” you hadn’t noticed but you shifted closer to him, nearly touching now. “like my hair being pulled,” he hummed in agreement, moving just an inch closer. his eyes were hooded behind his glasses and his gaze moved down to your lips.
“face sitting,” he said, cocking his eyebrow up slightly.
“never tried it.”
“do you wanna?” his face was inches away from yours now, could feel his breath fanning across your face. you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing him by the back of the head and smashing your lips to his, nearly knocking his glasses off in the process. his fingers tangled into the hair at the base of your neck and gave an experimental tug. you felt him smirk at the small whine you let out.
“do you want to do this?“ he asked in between kisses.
“bed, now.”
thank you so much for joining the sleepover nonnie i hope you like it🫶🏼
#shelby’s sleepover#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd x you#bob floyd smut#robert bob floyd#top gun
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Too Good To Be True
Sebastian Stan x Reader Story
Summary: A romantic comedy story where Sebastian Stan falls in love with reader but she is not who he thinks she is.
Reader is a software developer working at Silicon Valley when one day she made a mistake that got her fired. The unfortunate event spurred her into doing something adventurous that will change her life forever.
Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader
Chapters : 1/20 (Might add more)
Chapter List >
Warning : some angst
Word count : 6.2k words
This story is inspired loosely by Sebastian's love life so it will have characters from his real life but I will not name their real names. I will only use Sebastian's real name in the story.
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Chapter 1 - California
Six months ago - Silicon Valley, California
"You're fired!" He spat!
Y/n's heart dropped to her stomach as she listened to what her superior just said. Fired? She was fired?!
"But.. Mr.Thomas! It wasn't my fault! I didn't write the update that caused the whole system to go down. It was Jonathan!" She protested. Her mind just couldn't comprehend the devastating fact her superior just spit out.
"But you gave him access to the server so you're responsible for that as well." Mr.Thomas responded while giving her a stern look.
"I.. " She couldn't respond to that. Mr.Thomas was right. She did give Jonathan access to their client's server because he said he was going to fix a bug that he found on the system yesterday. It was supposed to be her job to fix that bug but she had other projects to finish. She didn't have the time to deal with a minor bug. She thought Jonathan was helping her out. But being a junior developer he was not experienced enough to know what he needed to do so he wouldn't cause a disruption throughout the whole system. She should have told him. She, being the senior developer that she was, should've told him.
She sighed in defeat. Finally realizing her mistake and accepting the consequences no matter how devastating it was.
"You have one week to finish all the jobs you are tasked with. After that Renee will take over." Mr.Thomas continued. She didn't know how else to respond so she just nodded.
"I.. I'm sorry Mr.Thomas." She stammered.
"Yeah. Tell that to Accury. Their CEO has been hounding us, telling us they won't pay us for the next six months because of your mistake!" Mr. Thomas replied and her heart plummeted even further.
"Now go and get out of my face!" Mr.Thomas said, looking at her with hatred.
She nodded and immediately left her superior's office. Her eyes welled up with tears as she got out. She closed the door behind her and looked around. The room was uncomfortably quiet. All of her colleagues were looking at her, waiting to see her reaction.
She quickly turned to the left and headed out of her department's office and towards the restroom, trying hard not to cry. She didn't want to face her colleagues just yet.
"Y/n!" She could hear Jonathan calling her name just as she pushed open the door of the office.
"Wait!" Jonathan called out again but she ignored him and continued walking quickly towards the restroom. Tears started to stream down her face and she didn't want Jonathan to see it.
"Y/n.. what happened?!" Jonathan unfortunately caught up with her and successfully touched her shoulder, prompting her to stop.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and sighed. She turned around and saw Jonathan looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"He fired me." She simply said.
Jonathan's jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock.
"What?! But.. but.. I did the update." Jonathan stammered.
"Yeah. I don't know. I guess he deemed I was more responsible. I mean.. it was supposed to be my job anyway, not yours." She shrugged.
"Oh God.. Y/n.. I'm so so sorry." Jonathan reached his hand out and squeezed her shoulder.
"It's fine, Jonathan." She tried hard to smile.
"He should have fired me too but I only got a warning and a pay cut. It's so unfair!" Jonathan protested.
"Yeah. Well. Life can be unfair sometimes." Or most of the time. She grumbled internally, remembering her whole life that was full of unfair conditions in her opinion.
"Y/n.. Let me make it up to you. I'm gonna go and talk to Mr.Thomas and beg him not to fire you." Jonathan said.
"Thanks Jonathan. I appreciate it. But, maybe you shouldn't bother him anymore. He could fire you too, you know. He said the CEO of Accury has been telling him that they won't pay us for the next six months. So Mr.Thomas is in a really bad mood." She explained.
"Ooh.. okay then. Well, I'll help you find another job. It's the least I can do." Jonathan offered.
"Thank you, Jonathan. I really appreciate it." She genuinely smiled this time. Despite feeling extremely annoyed that Jonathan was the cause of her unemployment, he really was still a sweet guy.
"Of course." Jonathan nodded.
"I.. uh.. I need to go for a minute." She gestured towards the restroom.
"Okay. Yeah. Take your time. And I'm sorry again Y/n. I really am." Jonathan said, squeezing her shoulder again.
She nodded, turned around and headed towards the restroom.
As soon as she was in the empty restroom tears started to fall from her eyes. She couldn't believe how cruel Mr.Thomas could be towards her. How could he fire her over one mistake? As if all the work she had done for the past eight years never happened. She had given the company everything. She had dedicated her life to the company so that working twelve hours a day became the norm for her. She even spent a lot of weekends at work too, especially during the launching of new systems. All of her sacrifices and dedication to the company seemed to mean nothing. Why was life so unfair to her?!
She let herself drown in her misery for some time as tears continued to stream down her face. Eventually she got tired of crying. She stood in front of the mirror behind one of the washbasins and turned on the tap. The sound of the running water coming out of the tap calmed her down somewhat.
She took off her eyeglasses, set it aside and washed her face. She then pulled out some tissue from its holder on the wall right next to her and dried her face. She picked up her eyeglasses and put it back on. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and like always, she hated what she saw.
To say that she was unattractive was an understatement. Alright, people may say that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. But the fact that she was 30 and had yet a boyfriend in her entire life proved otherwise. Men just didn't look at her. Even if they looked, they looked as if she was dirt on their white sneakers. Well, except for those who had some kind of need with her, like her superior or her colleagues.
Thinking about the way she looked really wouldn't help her mental state. She should think about her job. She needed to get a new job!
Well, she was a senior developer who had been working in that company ever since she got out of college. With a lot of software development experience under her belt surely she could get another job easily. Especially since she was already working in Silicon Valley where a new tech startup popped up every month. Her skill as a developer must be highly sought after. She tried to convince herself. So, she really didn't need to worry.
Unfortunately three months later she did need to worry. With the financial crisis that was happening most companies stopped hiring. Even more concerning, most of them downsized, making unemployment level skyrocketed. She never expected herself to be part of the statistics of those who were unemployed. Yet there she was, sitting down on a sofa in her apartment in broad daylight, during a weekday, devouring a tub of matcha ice cream, watching a movie while other people were out there in offices working their asses off.
She was watching Julia Roberts' movie Eat, Pray, Love and felt she could relate to Julia's character somewhat. Hmm.. maybe she needed a vacation. No, not a vacation, more like, a journey of self discovery. Life was not just about getting a job in a good company. It was supposed to be about so much more.
She realized that she never got the chance to really live. Her job was always number one for her. Being good in her career was the only thing she focused on. Not having a partner or family to think of she didn't have anything else to do but to devote all her time and energy into her work. Now that she thought about it, she didn't enjoy her job that much. Being a software developer might seem like a good and stable job with lucrative pay, but it was hard. And in the hierarchy of IT companies, developers were basically like construction workers, toiling away for the benefit of the building's owners while being paid the least.
Maybe she should think about moving to another job field. She thought all of a sudden. But what? Her skillset was limited to the IT world.
It wasn't until later that night when she was watching an interview of Sebastian Stan, her favorite actor, on Youtube that she had a light bulb moment.
Sebastian was being interviewed by his trainer and was asked about whether or not someone of a certain age was too late to start getting into acting. Sebastian had replied that it was never too late. He told the story of his co-star in the show The Falcon And The Winter Soldier who started acting when he was sixty, proving that it was never too late.
Sebastian's story reminded her of how much she loved theater back in middle school and high school. One thing she liked about herself was that she could sing very well and was not that bad in acting. She never got the main parts in her school plays because of how she looked, obviously, but just being involved in a play back then in a supporting role was something she really loved.
Sebastian's smile on the screen spurred her into action. She closed the Youtube app on her cellphone and started to open her browser. She searched for a short acting course that she could enroll in. She did have some savings. The IT company she worked at paid her six times her monthly salary as severance pay so she actually had some more time to find another job. She knew it really wasn't logical to move into something new at her age. But she was really inspired by Sebastian's co-star. If a sixty year old man could get success moving into a different job field surely, she, who was half the man's age, could find success too.
After searching for some time she found a conservatory in Los Angeles offering a month-long course into the introduction of acting. She checked the tuition and it was something she could afford. Although, after she did some more calculations, she would be out of money in about a month right after she finished the acting course.
Was it possible to get a role within a month after finishing the course? She wondered. Of course anything is possible. But still, it sounded a little far fetched.
Yeah, she was crazy to even think of the idea. It would be better if she could just search for jobs in the IT field even if not as a developer. Her logic finally won over her heart.
"Y/n! Are you home?" A loud knock and a female voice sounded from behind her apartment's front door.
"Yeah, come on in, Lara!" She replied.
Her front door opened and a girl with long brunette hair came in bringing a box of pizza.
"Hey, brought you some pizza." Lara smiled as she put the pizza box on the coffee table in front of her.
"Thanks, Lara. How did you know I haven't eaten yet?" She smiled as she opened the pizza box and smiled even wider as she looked at the contents of it.
Lara had brought her pepperoni pizza from her favorite pizza place. The smell was heavenly. She immediately picked up a slice and took a bite while Lara flopped on the sofa next to her.
"Intuition." Lara shrugged as she leaned over and picked up a slice of pizza too.
"Your intuition is always spot on." Y/n laughed.
"That's why it's called intuition." Lara shrugged.
"True. Anyway, how's work?" Y/n asked.
"Nothing major is going on. Still the usual stuff I have to deal with on a daily basis." Lara responded.
Lara worked as a support staff in a fintech company. She lived right next door to her and has been her neighbor for five years but more than just a neighbor she was her best friend.
"By the way, I was thinking. As you know, I haven't gotten a new job yet. Companies are just not hiring developers right now. So I was thinking of applying for a different position. Do you mind asking around to see if something opens up at your place?" She asked.
"Oh, yeah sure! I heard the testing department needs someone new. I'll let you know if they really are hiring." Lara responded.
"Thanks!" Y/n said brightly.
"No problem. So, what have you been up to?" Lara asked.
"Oh nothing. Just the usual job search, Netflix and YouTube. By the way, there's a new Sebastian Stan interview that came out." Y/n replied and was suddenly thinking about acting again.
"Oh. I wanna see it! I bet he looks scrumptious." Lara winked. Like her, Lara was Sebastian's fan too. Although, she was more into him than Lara was.
"Oh Lara, yeah maybe he does.. but you should listen to what he says instead of just admiring his look." She scolded her.
"You know I do listen to him. After I got over looking at his gorgeous eyes or beautiful smile, that is." Lara chuckled.
"Understandable." She chuckled. "But seriously, the interview was with his trainer, and he got some really good questions. I love how he answered them. He really is a smart, deep and thoughtful person."
"Yeah, I know. If he wasn't an actor it seems he'd be a good therapist."
"Yeah. You know he was asked about that, if he wasn't an actor what did he think he would do, and he answered a teacher. He loves teaching."
"That's so awesome of him. He'd be a hot professor." Lara laughed.
"You know he'd be hot as anything!" She laughed.
"True." Lara nodded and chuckled again.
"Anyway, he told the story of his TFATWS co-star, the Japanese man, and how he started acting at sixty years old. Isn't that amazing?"
"Sixty? Wow. What did he do before that?"
"The man was a teacher."
"Oh okay. That's interesting."
"Yeah. It made me think, you know. Would it be crazy if I start pursuing an acting career?"
Lara coughed and choked on her pizza.
"Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you." She said as she patted Lara's back while Lara tried to regain her composure back.
"Acting?" Lara finally managed to say.
"Umm.. yeah. You don't know this but I was in the theater club back in middle school and high school. And I remember how much I loved acting and singing in musicals."
"You? Y/f/n Y/l/n. Who won't even sing in karaoke, performed musicals in high school?" Lara asked incredulously.
"Well.. yeah.." She nodded and felt her face reddened.
"And to think I already knew you." Lara chuckled.
"Yeah. Anyway, what do you think? Am I crazy for wanting to try something new?" She sighed then finally took the last bite of her pizza.
"No, I don't think so. I mean, I know how boring it can be working in this field. But being an actor isn't easy." Lara responded.
"I know. It will be even harder for someone like me." She sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh Lara. Don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about."
"What? I genuinely don't know what you were referring to."
"Someone like me, Lara. Someone who looks like me. I mean, let's be real. I'm no Margot Robbie or Scarlet Johannson." She shrugged.
"Oh, right. Well.. You know I've seen more and more new actors or actresses nowadays who don't look like the typical Hollywood actors and they still succeeded. I mean, look at Awkwafina, or.. Melissa McCarthy."
"Yeah, well, they're basically comedians."
"They're still actresses too."
"Okay, yeah. You're right. Still, I don't think I can be a comedian."
"I'm not saying you should go into the acting world as a comedian. They were just examples that nowadays Hollywood is a lot more inclusive."
"Hmmm.. maybe."
"Well, you did ask for my opinion. I think it will be hard, but if you really want it, if you think this is something that you can do and most importantly something you love to do, then by all means go for it! Life is short. You don't want to live your whole life doing something you hate for the rest of your life."
She pondered Lara's statement and felt that maybe she was right. But of course being the level headed and responsible person she was, she still had her doubts.
"But.. what if it doesn't work out?" She pondered aloud.
"You'll never know unless you try, Y/n." Lara said as she placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder and squeezed it in encouragement.
"Yeah. You're right. Still, I should go into it having back up plans."
"Yeah, of course. I'll help you out. In the case you end up broke and homeless, my place is always open for you." Lara winked.
"Thanks, Lara."
"No problem. Besides, you could look at it like having a vacation. I mean, when was the last time you had a vacation?" Lara asked, her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.
"I.. umm.. well. Four years ago, I think. I went to Hawaii with my parents." She remembered.
"Ah.. see. You definitely should see it like a vacation. Go into it with reckless abandon and no strings attached."
"Yeah, you're right. Just like Julia Roberts." She nodded.
"In Eat, Pray, Love?" Lara asked.
"Yup. Except I don't have that much money to go around the world. I can only go to one place." She chuckled.
"Well that's still good." Lara smiled.
"Yeah. LA. That's where the action is." She nodded.
"Oh my God, Y/n!" Lara's eyes widened and she closed her mouth with her hand.
"What? What is it?"
"What if you end up meeting Sebastian?!" Lara squealed.
"Why didn't I think of that?" She grinned.
"I mean, I know LA is big, but still, he has been spending a lot of time there, right?"
"Yeah, you're right. Following his girlfriend." She sighed, remembering that Sebastian was currently seeing a fellow actress. Not that she had any chance with him. Not at all. But still.
"You mean 'girlfriend'" Lara snickered, raising her hands and making quotation gestures as she said the word.
"Yeah, well, whatever they are, they're still spending a lot of time together." She shrugged.
"Yeah, true, which is annoying. I think he deserves someone better and not someone who is just clearly leeching off his fame." Lara said in dislike.
"You and I both. But who are we to judge? As long as he's happy then I'm happy too."
"Yeah, I hope he really is happy."
"I'm sure he is. They've been together for what? Almost a year now? If he's not happy he could've dumped her already."
"Unless there's a contract involved."
"Yeah well, we'll never know whether there is or not. Anyway, help me find a place to stay in LA." She said, eager to change the subject. When it comes to Sebastian's current relationship they had different opinions and she was tired of bringing it up. She picked up her cellphone from the coffee table in front of her and started to browse for accomodation in LA.
"Oh yeah, sure!" Lara said, leaning closer to her so she could see her cellphone better.
After a couple of hours of browsing they found three apartments that were still within her budget and located not far from the conservatory she was thinking of enrolling in. She decided to contact the owners the next day to see if they were still available. She also enrolled in the acting course the Los Angeles Conservatory offered that she had found earlier which would start next week.
She went to sleep that night feeling nervous yet excited. She never thought of herself as being adventurous hence the decision to pursue an acting career in LA was the most adventurous action she had ever done. She hoped she would be able to follow the course well and could get a role not long after. She also hoped that she would somehow meet Sebastian. Even if she didn't get a role and ended up broke and jobless in LA, if she could meet Sebastian then that was enough, she could die happy.
Little did she know that she was going to get one of her hopes realized and it was the one she truly didn't expect.
---
Three days later - Venice Beach, Los Angeles, California
"We've been on the run
Driving in the sun
Looking out for number one
California here we come
Right back where we started from"
Y/n sang following the voice of Alex Greenwald of Phantom Planet who was singing the song California on the radio.
The song's vibe really fit her mood and the atmosphere that day. She rolled her car's window down and felt the breeze of the wind on her face. She smiled as she inhaled the breeze coming from the sea and noted the salty smell which she loved.
It was the historic day of her move to Los Angeles. She was driving her car towards Venice Beach, California. No, she wasn't going to stay around the beach area, but the beach was somewhat on the way from Silicon Valley to the apartment where she was going to stay in Los Angeles. She figured since she was on a vacation somewhat, why not visit the beach while she was at it.
"Pedal to the floor
Thinking of the roar
Gotta get us to the show
California here we come
Right back where we started from
California here we come..
California..
California.. here we come.."
She continued to sing as she finally arrived in Venice Beach and searched for a parking spot.
It was 2 in the afternoon so the beach was quite crowded. Thankfully she could find an empty parking spot near the entrance to the beach.
The song ended just as she was finished parking her car safely. She turned the radio off and her car engine's off then took a deep breath. She picked up her navy cap with the Winter Soldier logo on it, put it on then went out of her car.
Venice Beach had an oceanfront boardwalk stretching for two and a half miles with street vendors, cafes, tattoo parlors and more along the boardwalk. Ever since she left Silicon Valley she hadn't had anything to eat yet except some potato chips she brought as snacks. So she was quite hungry. She figured she should find a place to get some lunch before going on a little sightseeing.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and so the beach was packed with tourists and locals alike. Teenagers zipped past her on rollerblades, skateboards and bicycles as she walked along the boardwalk. Dogs walked past her with their owners following behind them. Families with children strolled along the walk, enjoying the atmosphere. Couples giggled and held hands as they walked towards the beach.
She realized she was the only one around that was alone. She felt kind of sad at the realization. Oh well, hopefully she could find some new friends here. The apartment she was going to stay at was a shared apartment with four bedrooms. The owner said there were three other people already staying there. So she would get three new friends soon.
The smell of grilled meat caught her attention. She looked to the side and found a large cafe that seemed to serve burgers. The cafe was crowded, meaning the food must be good, so she decided to get lunch there. Being alone made it easier to get an empty table. She only had to wait about five minutes before getting a table.
The burger came with a large portion of fries. Being so famished she didn't have trouble finishing them all. Regret only came later when she felt a little discomfort in her stomach. She decided to take a walk to help ease the discomfort. It was time to see the beach anyway. So after paying for her meal she started to continue walking along the boardwalk.
She continued to walk and after about fifteen minutes the boardwalk somewhat ended and she found herself walking on grass and among palm trees. There seemed to be a skateboard park up ahead. People stood around the circular park behind the barricades, watching the skateboarders zipping around and doing some stunts.
She was just walking casually towards the skateboard park when something hard hit her head, knocking her over onto the grass, making her eyeglasses and cap fall down to the ground. For a second the view around her went black and her head throbbed in pain.
"Oh my God! I'm really sorry!" A familiar male voice sounded in her ears but her eyes couldn't make out who it was. She blinked several times and she could finally see some colors and shapes. Someone was hovering over her, but without her glasses she could only see a blurred outline of a person, a man it seemed like.
"Woof.. woof!" The barking of a dog sounded in her ears and suddenly she felt wet all over her face. A dog was licking her!
"Zander! Stop! No!" The man scolded the dog. The licking finally stopped and she wiped her face with her hand.
"I'm really sorry. Are you okay?" The man asked again, concern filled his voice.
Her head still throbbed and she felt a headache as her vision continued to blur. She sat up slowly and the man leaned back.
"I'm okay.. I just need my glasses." She responded as her hand tried to search for her glasses on the ground.
"Oh, here's your glasses." She felt her glasses placed into her right hand gently. She shivered a little as the man's fingers brushed hers and her heart skipped a beat.
Great, she couldn't even see the man but already felt like this. Clearly this was a reaction of someone who has never been touched by a man. How pathetic. She grumbled internally.
"Thanks." She said as she slowly put on her glasses.
Thankfully her glasses was not damaged. Before she got the chance to see who the man that had hurt her was, the man suddenly stood up and shouted his dog's name again.
"Zander! Come back here!" The man bent down and picked up a frisbee. He then shouted another apology at her and quickly left her sitting alone on the grass, chasing after his dog.
She wasn't sure if she was hallucinating but the man seemed to be Sebastian Stan! His voice sounded so similar to Sebastian's voice but she couldn't see his face clearly.
She continued to look towards where the man had gone but there were so many people that he was lost among the crowd.
She shook her head. No, that couldn't be Sebastian Stan. With the beach being so crowded it was inevitable that people would recognize him. He couldn't have casually hung around with his dog without being recognized. A celebrity like him wouldn't be likely to hang out at a popular tourist spot like this anyway. He probably had his own private beach somewhere. She shrugged.
Her head was still throbbing so she decided to get back to her car and rest for a short while before continuing her journey to her apartment.
All throughout the walk back to her car she could feel people staring at her. She wondered why. She touched the left side of her forehead, right above her left eyebrow where the man's frisbee seemed to have hit her. She felt a big lump on it and grumbled. Great, her forehead was swollen. She continued to cover the lump with her hand until she arrived at her car.
She opened the car door, sat in the driver's seat and looked up to the rear-view mirror. After adjusting it a little she could finally see her face. She groaned as she saw the lump on her forehead which was about the size of an egg. No wonder people were staring at her.
She sighed. She needed to get to her apartment and get some cold compress on her forehead.
She waited until the throbbing on her head had lessened and finally turned her car's engine on and drove towards her new apartment.
---
W76th St, Los Angeles, California
The drive from Venice Beach to her apartment at W76th St took about twenty minutes. Thank God for the existence of GPS nowadays. Otherwise she was sure she would have been lost even though she might have a printed map of LA.
Her apartment's building was a three story modern and minimalist building with off white walls. When she got there she was welcomed by Audrey, the building's landlord. Audrey was really nice and very concerned seeing her swollen forehead. She immediately gave her an ice pack and let her rest in her unit for a while before taking her to her unit.
Her apartment's interior was bright and had minimalist decoration with white and cream furnitures, off white walls and tan parquettes. There were some fake plants decorating the tables and cupboards with paintings of nature hanging on the walls. Despite being lived in by three people, it was still immaculate and clean. She immediately felt comfortable there.
Her roommates were three girls named Haley, Eve and Samantha. Haley was a student at UCLA. Eve was an aspiring actress working as a waitress at a nearby cafe while Samantha worked as a journalist. Haley and Eve were in their twenties while Samantha was nearer to her age.
The girls were all really nice to her. She was glad about it because she wasn't the type of person who liked drama. They were all concerned about her after seeing the bruise and swelling on her forehead.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the doctor to get it checked?" Samantha asked for the nth time as she laid down on her bed in her room, her hand holding a bag of frozen peas courtesy of Samantha against her swollen forehead.
"Yes, I'm sure, Samantha. I'm gonna be okay. Really." She declined.
"Alright, if you're sure." Samantha said.
"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for your concern, Samantha." She smiled.
"You're welcome, Y/n. Now we're just gonna leave you to get some rest. By the way, it's cooking time tonight. If you want you can join us later on to cook dinner. We'll be cooking some Italian." Samantha said, smiling wide.
"Oh! I love Italian! Sure, I'll come out later and help out." She replied.
"Okay, great. Have a good rest, Y/n." Samantha said.
"Thank you, Samantha." She smiled.
Samantha, Eve and Haley finally left her alone, leaving her to stare at their backs as they left her room.
What a weird way to start her new life in LA. She thought as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. But then again her life had always been full of unfortunate conditions.
She remembered her first day in elementary school. She was passing by the huge lawn in front of her school on her way to enter the building when a basketball hit her forehead. Her head was swollen and she spent her first day of school resting in the infirmary for almost the whole day.
On her first day in middle school another student riding a bicycle crashed into her causing her to get a fracture in her right arm. She ended up wearing a cast for a month and learning to write and do things with her left hand.
Don't even mention her first day in high school or college. They were all nightmares. So, accidents and unfortunate conditions were the norm for her.
Even though her first day in LA started out rather badly. She hoped that the rest of her life there would be good. At the very least something in her gut told her that it would be interesting and eventful. And after spending eight years working in a monotonous condition, somehow, she welcomed the change.
Her feelings weren't wrong as it took her only a month until another quite eventful thing happened.
---
One month later - Los Angeles Performing Arts Conservatory, Los Angeles, California
She ran out of her car and quickly went inside the conservatory. She was late. Her first audition and she was late!
She had finished her acting course at the conservatory a few days before. The graduates from that month were given an exclusive opportunity to audition for a role for a movie produced and financed by a major Hollywood actor and a new talented female director. The students were not told who the actor nor the director were so as not to make them nervous. Even the project's actual name was kept under wraps. The students only knew its code name which was 'Pedal Blue'.
There were three roles up for grabs. The first one was a role of the main character's girlfriend, the second one was a role of the main character's sister while the third one was a role of the main character's male friend. The main character was a man, a cyclist who was participating in Tour de France. The Hollywood actor was going to play the main character.
To be honest Y/n felt like she had heard about a project similar to this that Sebastian Stan seemed to be involved in. But she didn't want to keep her hopes up. She thought it was better to expect nothing so if somehow Sebastian turned up to be the Hollywood actor who was involved in the movie, it would be a very pleasant surprise for her. Besides, she wasn't sure she could audition if he was there judging her. She would be very nervous and most likely embarrass herself. So she had prepared herself to audition without thinking about him at all.
She decided to try auditioning for the role of the sister. The sister only had five lines throughout the whole movie. She felt she could deal with that. Whereas the girlfriend had more than twenty lines and there were also some kissing scenes involved which she was not ready to do yet.
She got inside the conservatory and immediately went to the auditorium where the auditions were being held. She couldn't believe that she was almost an hour late! She had overslept! She was helping Haley last night with her calculus homework and they stayed up until past 2 in the morning. She was supposed to come for the audition at 9 in the morning but it was almost 10.
She stopped outside the auditorium and found some of her male friends sitting on benches outside.
"Y/n! There you are! I thought you weren't gonna show up." Shane, one of her classmates, greeted her.
"Yeah.. I overslept. Is the audition over for the girls?" She asked as she tried to catch her breath.
"No, they're still doing it." Shane replied.
"Oh great. Okay, wish me luck!" She said as she immediately went towards the auditorium's door and pushed the door open.
"Y/n/! Wait!" Shane called out to her but she was already gone inside.
It was eerily silent when she opened the door. The stage in front of her was empty. There were some people sitting right in front of the stage and some people sitting behind them. All of them turned to look at her when she came in, making her feel very nervous. Her heart beat faster in her chest, her palm started to sweat as she slowly walked further into the auditorium.
She smiled at the people sitting right in front of the stage. There were four people. Her eyes scanned each face. She saw a man with graying hair and glasses, he didn't smile back at her but just looked at her coldly. Her eyes scanned the next person who was a woman with shoulder length blonde hair. She had a neutral look on her face. The person sitting next to her made her heart rate go up. It was the female director that once worked with Sebastian! Maya Carver! She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widened as she finally scanned the last person sitting there. She couldn't believe her eyes!
The last person gazed at her curiously. He had brunette hair pulled back into a bun. His face was sculpted like Adonis with a thin layer of stubble on his face. There was no mistaking it. The last person was.. Sebastian Stan!
Chapter 2 >
Taglist
@dhoruwolfie
#sebastian stan#sebastianstan#sebastian stan fanfic#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fluff#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x y/n#sebastian stan x you
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I’m gonna post this, so that yall can see the birth of the puriteen movement. So in 2010 Nintendo released the Pokemon Black/White games for the 3DS/2DS consoles. The game was rated E, meaning to was meant to be enjoyed by audiences of ALL ages, but seems to have been aimed mostly at the older nostalgic fanbase who grew up with the franchise starting in the 1990s. And this caused major, major backlash in the stupidest ways.
A conservative hate group called One Million Moms that was founded, I believe, by the wife of Chick-Fil-A’s CEO went on a pearl clutching rampage arguing that the female main player character, Hilda (Touko in the Japanese version) was dressed inappropriately for a children’s video game. Why, because short-shorts that’s why.
I wish I was making this shit up, believe me.
The other thing that sparked ire was a scene that some felt to believe romantic that took place in a ferris wheel with the game’s antihero character N. Because there was no way for the male player character to opt out and avoid the scene, parents argued that the game encouraged homosexuality.
This backlash prompted Nintendo to remove Hilda from the Pokemon Black/White anime series and replace her with Iris, and led to the creation of the Pokemon Shuffle video game after further complaints that the mainstream Pokemon franchise was too difficult for younger players😑
The purpose of Pokemon Shuffle was to help younger and newer players memorize type weaknesses and advantages that would aid them in Pokemon battles that took place in other games. And to add salt to the wound, Nintendo decided to dumb down the storylines in the newer Pokemon video games.
I beat Pokemon X/Y in less than six hours.
Prior to that, I’d be trying to beat Pokemon Emerald/Pearl — I think that was it anyway, it was a long time ago — and gave up after TWO MONTHS because I got stuck in some maze on Mt. Whatever on my way to the Ice Type gym. And I’ve been playing these games since the fucking Gameboy Advanced came out!!!!
Oh, and the really fun part is that the sanitization of Pokemon games effected not only other Nintendo franchises — anyone remember when the scary gyroids were taken out of Animal Crossing: New Horizons and replaced with new ones fit for a pre-K class?
How the hell these people ever made it through Luigi’s Mansion is beyond me🙄 You can find the full list of gyroids, old and new, here—
But getting back to the point, the sanitization of Pokemon also had a direct impact on ALL OTHER FORMS OF MEDIA.
All of the preachy YA books?
Book bans?
The Gods awful new Ninja Turtle cartoon?
They all go back to this moment.
Well, no it goes back even further—
youtube
This is history repeating itself.
#nintendo#video games#3ds games#2ds#nintendo console#pokemon#pokemon black and white#pokemon hilda#animal crossing#animal crossing new horizons#pearl clutchers#conservatives#lgbt#queer community#nostalgia#1990s nostalgia#teenage mutant ninja turtles#puriteens#republicans#helicopter parenting#boot licker#politics#Youtube#gamers#nerds#nerd life#nerd problems
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Worth Staying In Bed For
The conclusion of the story that started here. Much has changed for our heroes, who get fuck-all done on a lovely Saturday.
Suptober prompt: Hum
Flufftober prompt: Blankets
Fictober prompt: "I'm doing it, shut up."
Inktober prompt: Ego
(Read on AO3)
Cas wakes slowly, drifting up from a deep well of sleep. He becomes aware of his situation in stages: I'm in our bed... Being in bed feels so nice... These blankets are so warm... That's a lot of sunlight coming in through the windows right now... Ahhh shit.
He cracks an eye open, checks the time, and swings a flailing thwack at the body next to him.
“Dean, wake up, we overslept again.”
The first hit garners only a rumbling hum in response. The second, a muttered “mm? zup?”
“It's almost 11:30,” Cas informs him. “We were supposed to meet up with them at the market hours ago.”
“Shit,” Dean croaks. He bats at his bedside table, searching for his phone. “Is there coffee?”
Cas snorts. “Of course there isn't coffee. You're the so-called 'morning person' here, not me.” He watches as his boyfriend successfully locates his phone and brings it into the vicinity of his beautiful, bleary-eyed face. “Did they text?”
“Yeah, at 9:30 Sam said, I knew you losers wouldn't make it with two middle finger emojis. And like half an hour ago Eileen sent a picture of a pie and said, all this could've been yours. Awww, farmer's market pie...”
“Don't pout, love, I'll bake you a pie this afternoon if you go make us coffee now,” Cas wheedles, head still firmly planted on the pillow.
“Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it, shut up,” Dean grumbles. He swings his legs out of the covers, grabs a t-shirt off the floor, and pulls it on. “God, why can't I wake up on time any more? I used to love early mornings...”
Cas smirks. “Yeah, but now you love staying in bed with me instead.”
“Okay, Mr. Massive Ego, I admit it, I've been dating you for six months and you've ruined me. Any time I spend not in bed with you feels like a waste.”
“Oh, it's my massive ego that keeps you here?”
Dean stands from the bed but turns back to roll his eyes affectionately at his boyfriend. “I wish I could say 'smug' is not a good look on you, sunshine, but it really, really is. Gimme five minutes to rustle up our coffee and then we're going for round... What did we get up to last night? Three?”
Cas nods and grins. “I believe we agreed that next time it would be my turn to choose. You ready for a ride, cowboy?”
“You know it, baby. And then pie?” he asks hopefully.
“And then pie. And while it's in the oven, maybe a nap?”
“Sounds perfect.”
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hello i love you
1. Mit!boys where rhodey brings tony to an arcade or fair or smth and tony’s like !!!!!!!! bc he’s never been to one before! you can play games for hours? and win prizes?? for playing games???? rhodey you have to win me the biggest fluffiest one 🥺
2. rhodey introduces tony to coffee. not on purpose! he’s trying to help nurse tony’s hangover or he’s accidentally picked up the wrong order from the coffee shop on campus so tony just drinks it and the results are. disastrous
3. i am a suckerrrr for italian!tony so tony digging out maria’s special recipes to impress rhodey and later steve
4. tony has a v stressful week/month and steve treats his man with a bubble bath and a massage and scented candles
hiii i love you too and i adore every single one of these prompts omg 🥺 i’m gonna write the first one for this ask but i’ll eventually tackle all the rest in separate posts!! 💖
---
“Oh my god, is that a carousel?”
Tony stops in the middle of Boston Common, causing Jim to walk into him and almost drop his ice cream cone. He looks at where Tony is pointing, and sure enough, there’s a carousel. Before Jim could answer, Tony grabs his arm and starts dragging him over to the ride.
“Come on!”
They end up riding the carousel six times, Tony insisting they stay on so he can hop on a different seat each time. He’s like a kid discovering something new for the first time, and Jim later finds out that’s exactly the case.
“I was never allowed to go to any fairs or amusement parks,” Tony explains over pizza. “Howard always says I have more important things to do than to play around in a park. I don’t know, I guess that’s the cost of being a child genius. You miss out on a few things growing up.”
Jim narrows his eyes at that. Every time he hears another anecdote about Howard Stark, his urge to punch the man grows stronger. He wipes his hands on a napkin, and with it the unpleasantness of hearing Howard’s name. As Tony changes the topic and starts telling a story about his last run-in with their building’s superintendent, Jim starts brainstorming.
---
For their next long weekend, Jim finishes all his assignments early and drives them almost two hours along the coast to Palace Playland in Maine, a beachfront amusement park and arcade that’s been around since the turn of the century. He came here with his family once a few years ago, when he was a sophomore in high school, and he’s looking forward to sharing the experience with Tony. He watches as Tony shuts the car door and takes in the sight before him, eyes wide and bright and entire body twitching with barely contained excitement.
He gets them both tickets and returns to where Tony is standing near the entrance, studying a map of the park.
“So, where do you want to start?” he asks.
Tony points to the pirate ship. “There! We’re going to try all the rides first, and then the arcade.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Tony grabs Jim’s hand, ushers them through the entrance, and runs towards the pirate ship where a line is just starting to form.
---
Four hours, two corn dogs, three funnel cakes, and one snow cone later, they’re finally ready to head into the arcade.
They step through into the 20,000 square foot space where all the games are located and Tony pauses, taking it all in.
“Holy shit.”
His eyes land on the giant prize counter that lines one wall of the room, then he turns back to Jim. “We can win those? By playing games?”
“Yup.”
“Well then what are we waiting for? Rhodey! I want that giant stuffed platypus. I need it. Show me how good you are at skeeball and get me that platypus!”
Turns out, Jim is garbage at skeeball. But between the two of them, the sheer amount of options in games they have at the arcade, and the three hours they spend there, they manage to rack up enough tickets for the stuffed toy and more.
At the end of the day, they walk back to where the car is parked, Jim holding the bags of prize candy and knickknacks they’ve won while Tony hugs the stuffed platypus to his chest. The toy is so big that Tony has to angle his head around it to see where they’re going and Jim has to keep a hand on Tony’s elbow to guide the way. Tony bumps into a couple cars before they make it to their own, where he straps the platypus safely into its own seat in the back like it’s his child.
Before Jim could start the car, Tony leans across the centre console and flings his arms around him, squeezing tightly in a hug full of gratitude.
“Best day ever,” Tony says softly. “Thanks for bringing me here, Rhodey.”
“I’m just glad I could make you happy, Tones,” Jim responds, stroking gently between Tony’s shoulder blades.
“You always do.”
#GOD THEY ARE SO SOFT#this is where the platypus nickname came from and that’s that on that#tonyrhodey#rhodeytony#ironhusbands#mit babies#kay writes things#havepatienceandendure#ask
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Oh I LOVE the sick prompts. I've loved the Jake and Bob ones you've posted here and on AO3, but im a Rooster girl through and through so if you could do 8 34 38 from the sick prompts list for Rooster with Maverick to the rescue please I'd love that xx
Okay I think my wifi is fixed so I am BACK! Here we goooooo!
8. "Weren't you sick just last month?", 34. "Let me just swim through this ocean of tissues first" and 38. "When were you planning to tell me you were this sick?"
We took a different direction on this one! Maverick comes in toward the end.
-
Now that he’d survived nearly dying at least twice in a matter of hours, Rooster was ruthless in the air. The uranium missing alone would have earned him his promotion in rank to Lieutenant Commander but the way he flew afterward really cemented it for Cyclone and Warlock. With the offer of a promotion came the offer of a teaching position at TOPGUN; he’d taken it without hesitating, very on-brand for post-mission Rooster. The other Daggers had formed a new squadron, Phoenix at the head. Rooster would never admit it but he knew he wasn’t going to fly in combat ever again if he had anything to do with it. Instead, he was going to share everything he’d learned from the last fifteen years with a bunch of snot-nosed, over-confident, stupidly-cocky TOPGUN students.
When he’d revealed the plan to the Daggers, Hangman (who had actually already taught at TOPGUN years ago) had burst out laughing with a good luck.
Thanks, Bagman.
His first class had been awful, and he felt like every afternoon he spent in Cyclone’s office explaining himself. He knew that now that the connection between himself and Maverick had been made there would be all eyes on him but he hadn’t expected to be pulled into Cyclone’s office after the first day and reamed over the coals for his lesson plan. Day two hadn’t gone much better, and by the time day three rolled around he was wondering if the Navy was still the best place for him. That afternoon, Cyclone had looked over his lesson plan and simply nodded. Good. That was all he said; like that was enough to satisfy Rooster’s need for approval (he would talk about that with his therapist about six months later).
His current group were... look, all of them were shitheads, and when I say all I mean all, but they had a good sense of humour and they occasionally listened to him if he asked nicely (threatened them with pushups). The group of seven were still playing as though they were individuals; Mac would yell at Paws, then Buddy’s wizzo Horse would yell back, and then-
Listen. It’s complicated.
-
Rooster was not feeling it that morning. He’d gone out for dinner the night before with Penny, Mav (who’s still refusing to admit he’s retired) and Amelia and he got home later than he usually tucked himself in. He dragged himself out of bed eventually, huffing and puffing and trying not to think about how shitty he felt the whole time. The first coffee he downed tasted like ass; the second one he’d shoved in a travel mug to drink on his way to base. His breakfast bar wasn’t particularly appetising either but he had to have something in his stomach to settle the Tylenol he’d taken before running out the door.
“Sir-“
“-Mac, it’s Rooster. What do you need?”
The Lieutenant straightened his back in front of Rooster’s desk and Rooster silently begged he wasn’t about to say what he was going to-
“-Rooster, I respectfully request that I get an individual session today.”
“Kid, we’ve talked about this. TOPGUN isn’t for individual sessions; it’s about improving your dogfight skills and honing your teamwork skills which should already be razor sharp.”
“Lieutenant Seresin would give me individual sessions,” Mac said and his eyes widened when he realised what he’d done. Not his smartest move, yet Rooster couldn’t even be bothered scolding him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Mac, the answer is no. I’m very aware Lieutenant Seresin is some kind of god among new students, but I’m not him.”
“Rooster-“
“-Mac.”
Rooster glanced up from his paperwork, eyes heavy as he rubbed at his temples to ease the ache, and Mac furrowed his brows.
“Weren’t you sick just last month?”
“What kind of- I swear to god- you’re still here?”
Rooster ushered him out of his office, pausing when he realised one of the quieter aviators, Jelly, was standing near the doorway.
“Please don’t tell me you want private lessons too, Jelly,” he huffed. She kept her eyes firmly on the floor.
“Can we talk in your office a moment, sir?”
Rooster opened his mouth to protest; he had a lot to do and he still had to see Cyclone at some point before his hop in about an hour, but the way she held herself concerned him. He stifled a yawn into the back of his hand, stepping back into his office.
“Of course.”
-
She was pregnant. She’d cried the entire hour Rooster had available and then some more, hysterical about how she’d messed up her career. Rooster had been firm when he reassured her that if he had anything to do with it, it wouldn’t detriment her career, and then gently congratulated her. She’d confided that she didn’t feel comfortable flying; not even at TOPGUN, not until after the baby was born, and Rooster had understood.
It did mean he was down a single seater but that could wait until he got to Cyclone later that afternoon. His phone had been buzzing on his desk the entire time but he was more focused on making sure Jelly was okay.
After getting her off to the infirmary to make sure they could sign her off he jogged back to his office only to find Cyclone waiting for him.
“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw-“
“-sir, I’m sorry, I-“
“-are we going to make this a habit?”
“I had some team politics to fix; one of my aviators is having a meltdown about private lessons like he’s an eight year old wanting his piano teacher to hang around a little later, and another has some personal issues to sort out. What did you want to see me about, Cyclone?”
“Rooster. You came highly recommended, both for your promotion and for this teaching role. Might I remind you that paperwork is just as important as team politics?”
Rooster met Cyclone eye-for-eye. With anyone else this could be considered insubordination, but Rooster was feeling particularly brave (fed up).
“I’m aware, sir. The paperwork will be on your desk by the end of today.”
The pair stared for a moment. Rooster’s nose twitched and he pulled away at the last minute to sneeze. Cyclone snorted.
“Paperwork, lunch time, Rooster. Last chance.”
-
He’d opted out of the hop in the end, preferring to instruct from the ground, simply because his headache hadn’t subsided at all and his sinuses felt like they were backed up into his brain. Watching his team in the tower, he used the radio to call out and make minor instructions, but then blared a horn when they were behaving like they were all out for each other.
“Racket, what would you tell Tickle’s family if he died because you pulled a stunt like that?” Rooster warned through the comms.
“Sir, I-“
“-Mac, go anywhere near the Hard Deck again and I will put your ass in front of Cyclone, I’m not playin’. Adhere to the rules for once and I’d consider using more of my time to help you out of hours.”
“Are you talking about the bar or the- oh, damn.”
“Mac, you’re out. You can answer to Cyclone, I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”
He rubbed a hand against his chest, grimacing as he pulled away to cough. Warlock appeared right as Rooster reached for the box of tissues and Warlock cleared his throat.
“Well, I was going to- let me just swim through this ocean of tissues first...”
“There’s not that many,” Rooster frowned but Warlock pointed to the bin on his right side which was indeed overflowing and there were a couple on the floor. Now that Rooster thought about it, his nose hurt. Had he been blowing it too hard? Hm. Ooh, and he felt a little warmer than he remembered feeling earlier... had the Tylenol worn off?
“Rooster, son, I think you ought to get yourself home,” Warlock suggested gently, “you let me deal with these monkeys.”
“Sir-“
“-you’re not in trouble, you’re learning just as much as they are and quite frankly I think it’s time they understand the consequences of their actions aren’t always push ups or apologising to the class for getting them killed.”
“Am I fired?” Rooster asked, grimacing at the way he knew he had to find another tissue. Warlock shook his head.
“No, Rooster, you’re not fired. Take the rest of today off, it sounds like you’ve been burning the candle at both ends for a while.”
He gestured to the jets preparing to land.
“As I said; those monkeys can answer to Cyclone and I, really put the fear of God in them.”
Rooster chuckled.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Go, I don’t want to see you before oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow morning.”
-
Arriving back at his place, Rooster paused before he got out of his Bronco to rest his head on the steering wheel. A part of him was humiliated, couldn’t believe he’d been dismissed for being unwell by Warlock, but another part of him was glad because he was just starting to get dizzy as he pulled into his street. He took a deep breath, pulling away from the wheel to stifle a sneeze. He knew it was a man-flu, most likely something that would knock him out for 24 hours and he’d be fine, but another part of him kind of wished he had a significant other right about now to crawl into bed with.
He had one, a long time ago, but that’s a story for another time. Reaching into his pocket he knew he had to get groceries but he wanted to take a covid test just in case before he went back into public, especially because he was dizzy. He managed to get out of the Bronco eventually, using the hood to guide himself around and to the steps. He fumbled with his house keys for a solid thirty seconds before managing to get the key into the lock and open the door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called to the empty house. Sighing, he dumped his duffel bag on the floor and stripped his uniform off, leaving it on the armchair of the couch. The best part of living alone? He could walk around in his boxers and no one was there to comment on it. The beauty of being single. The bathroom didn’t offer anything different to the medication he’d already taken so he collapsed on his couch and closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he told himself. He’d get up and do the washing or something... in a minute...
-
The next time he woke it was because he was coughing so hard he was gasping for air and it was pitch black. Goosebumps had risen on his arms and his entire body shook as he got up to get to the bathroom. Rooster doubled over the toilet, the coughing non-stop and he put a hand on his stomach when it felt like he was going to throw up. Spitting phlegm out, he moved to the shower and flicked the hot tap all the way on, letting the water heat to steam the room. He glanced at his watch, realising it was almost midnight, and then decided he couldn’t bother anyone at this time of night. Granted, the Daggers were all out and about at the moment, on some mission in god knows where, but they were all stationed primarily out of North Island. Maverick was five minutes away, he could text him, but Rooster didn’t want to disrupt his sleep. He’d always had trouble sleeping, Rooster knew that.
Huffing, he stepped into his double shower but stayed away from the hot water, allowing the steam to work it’s magic.
The coughing eventually subsided. His chest finally expanded properly and he felt like he could breathe again. Rooster hauled himself off the shower floor with a grimace, making his way down the hallway to his room. He managed to find a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that wouldn’t make his skin itch, pulling it over his head and curling up on his bed despite the way he was still mildly sweaty from the intense heat of the shower. Rooster buried his head into his pillow- he knew he was going to need more than just yesterday afternoon off with the way he was going.
-
Maverick woke to his phone vibrating on the edge of his bedside table, about to vibrate so hard it fell off the top. He reached over and grabbed it, frowning firstly at the time but then at the caller ID.
“Who is it?” Penny yawned, rolling over to glance at her partner. Maverick frowned.
“It’s Bradley.”
“You better answer it,” she suggested, resting her head back on her pillow. Maverick held the phone to his ear.
“Bradley? You good kid?”
Maverick frowned immediately after.
“Slow down, what? When did this- yeah, okay. Hold tight, I’m on my way. Do you- mmhmm. Yeah, I’ll grab it. Stay there, Roos, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Maverick got out of bed and searched for his jeans, hanging over the back of the chair in the corner of the room. He wriggled into them, Penny finally glancing up.
“He okay? He’s not still having those attacks is he?”
“No, nothing like that. He’s sick; the way he coughed on the phone told me all I needed to know. I’m going to check on him; I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Okay, honey. Let me know if you need anything.”
Maverick paused, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Love you.”
“Love you too, drive safe and don’t get whatever he’s got.”
“Yes ma’am,” Maverick replied with a grin. He headed out of the loft and carefully made his way downstairs, sneaking past Amelia’s room with practised expertise. He grabbed his Jeep’s keys and locked the front door behind him, just in time to see Amelia’s bedroom light flick on from her bedroom window.
By the time he got to Bradley’s place he’d decided he regretted leaving his leather jacket at home, it was fucking cold, but also that he was going to kick his ass if it was just a man-flu and he only wanted someone to notice him. Maverick knew the rest of the Daggers were gone, they were due to be back on base in a couple of weeks, but for the time being Rooster did sometimes get lonely. It made sense; he was sociable, and having none of his friends around made it a little more difficult. Using the key Bradley had taped under a windowsill at the front of the house, Maverick let himself in. Immediately he could hear the harsh sound of coughing and went straight into the kitchen to grab water before he went to see the damage. He paused at the kitchen counter, recognising the test in front of him.
I’m not talking about a pregnancy test either.
“Bradley!”
The coughing increased and Maverick filled a glass with water before jogging down the hallway. He hesitantly opened the bedroom door, wincing.
“Congratulations kid, it’s not covid. On the other hand, I do think you’re pretty sick...”
“Thank god, I didn’t even think to check,” Bradley said between coughs. Maverick frowned, carefully making his way over to feel his forehead.
“When were you planning on telling me you were this sick?”
“Honestly, Mav? I wasn’t.”
Maverick snorted, shrugging slightly as he passed over the glass of water. “Fair enough. Get this down and we can see what I can do.”
#Top Gun Maverick#Top Gun: Maverick#TGM#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw#Rooster#Bradley Bradshaw#Callsign: Rooster#Pete Maverick Mitchell#Pete Mitchell#Maverick#Callsign: Maverick#sickfic#hurt/comfort
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