#they literally had to steal fuzzys house just to have a place to be in themselves they r so. fucking stupid
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sometimes i think about in bubble boy where brlck and butkh fully agreed to try and capture the girls in their house like brother what exactly was the plan there
#capture them HOW put them WHERE and for WHAT purpose#they literally had to steal fuzzys house just to have a place to be in themselves they r so. fucking stupid#wipes their noses bc they all sound like they have a damn cold all the time
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~ Some Father-son bonding ~
(A/N: I LOVE THIS ITERATION OF SONIC SM- ESPECIALLY HOW THE WRITERS WROTE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEM HIM AND TOM FOR THE FIRST AND SECOND FILM. I- SOBSSSS. I LOVE THESE TWO SM SO U KNOW I NEEDED TO MAKE A FIC ABT THEM 💞💕💖💗😭!!!)
Lee: Sonic🦔💙
Ler: Tom🍩🤎
Warnings: A little bit of angst in the beginning, harmful stimming (I’ll tag where it starts and ends) and tickling. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following please feel free to keep scrolling down :)
Summary: It’s been a couple months since the epic battle between Sonic and Eggman. The electric blue hedgehog could finally relax…right? Well…yes and no. Sonic has been living with the Wachowski’s for those couple months and it’s been great! But…he keeps feeling weird. His stomach gets fluttery and he can’t stop laughing for hours at a time…it's…really weird. Maybe he should talk to someone about this…
(A/N: Parent and child relationship. Nothing more. Nothing less. It sickens me that I have to put that in there (bc it should be obvious) but you can never be too sure…I just needed to make it clear that they love each other as family.)
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Sonic was sitting up on his beanbag and playing with the rubix cube Maddie gave him about a week ago. He was dressed in a sweatshirt, a gift from Tom that was like 3 times his own size, going almost to his knees and blue fuzzy socks. He groaned as he finished solving the cube again for probably the 12th time now. Speaking of which, you’re probably wondering where he got the rubix cube from…and before you ask, no he did not steal it. It was quite the opposite actually.
Maddie noticed that Sonic was very fidgety at times and often pulled at his quills when he was nervous about something, or completely bored. So she decided to go shopping and buy the blue hedgehog some fidget toys. And by “some”, Sonic means like about 60-70 at least…he hasn’t counted but by the looks on how freaking heavy the box was when she gifted it to him, his estimation probably wasn’t that far off.
Sonic groaned again, dropping the rubix cube he had in his hands and placed it on his desk, making sure to put it down delicately so he didn’t accidentally dent it; out of all of the fidget toys this one was Sonic’s favorite and he didn’t want it getting ruined under any circumstances. The hedgehog flopped on his beanbag, looking up at the ceiling and putting his pillow to his face before abruptly groaning loudly for like the 100th time, but at least now it was muffled by the pillow.
Sonic wanted something but he didn’t know what…and this feeling was starting to get on his nerves.
Well- no- scratch that. He did- he did know what he wanted. But there’s no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna tell anyone about it.
There- there was this feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t know what the literal hell it was, and it’s been eating him from the inside since he’s come to Green Hills. His stomach felt fluttery, almost as if there were butterflies instead of intestines- but not in a bad way! In a very weird, confusing, nice way? If that makes sense? And another thing, he can't seem to stop giggling to himself. Which is odd. Because he didn’t even hear a joke or anything! He was just…giggling. Like what? But most importantly, he was craving physical affection apparently??? Ugh. See why he wasn’t gonna tell anyone about this feeling? Or…whatever this was?
Sonic looked at his phone- not far from where he was lying down on his beanbag. He remembers Maddie saying every time she left before work in the morning that if he needed anything, to text or call her…
This is probably what she meant.
But he didn’t want to bother her. Sonic knew how important Maddie’s job was and he didn’t want to make it more stressful. Besides, what was she supposed to say to her coe-working people if Sonic called or texted? Oh! Sorry! The over-sized hedgehog I have living in my house wants to talk about this weird feeling he’s feeling! Hm? Oh, what feeling you ask? He doesn’t quite know exactly!
Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. Sonic could handle this weird feeling on his own. Yep. He could totally handle this weird new feeling by himself. Uh-huh. He’s got this.
…
Maddie…Maddie wouldn’t mind…right?
…
Oh fuck it.
Sonic grabbed his phone and unlocked it, immediately going through his contacts to find Maddie- which wasn't hard. He only had two contacts: her and Tom.
✨💖The Magnificent Marvelous Maddie💖✨
Today at 1:38 p.m.
Hey Maddie
If uh
If you’re not busy…can I ask you a question?
Sonic turned his phone off and put it next to him and after a couple seconds of waiting the blue hedgehog immediately regretted sending those three texts to Maddie. She’s probably busy anyway. Sonic could figure out this feeling by himself-
PING!
Sonic almost jumped out of his seat at the sudden loud sound coming from his phone. He really needs to figure out how to turn that sound down…he can feel it still ringing in his ears. He turned on his phone to see a text notification- 3 actually- from the one and only Maddie Wachowski…
Well that was fast.
Hi, sweetie!
And of course you can ask me a question ☺️!
What’s on your mind, honey?
Sonic exhaled the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding in, unlocking his phone and going into messages to properly text her.
I’ve been…
I’ve been feeling weird lately- and idk why
Ever since I’ve come to Green Hills to stay w/ u guys I’ve felt this way…and idk what it is and it’s been pissing me off lately.
So I was hoping…maybe you could help me figure out what it is?
Of course!
Could you maybe try to describe it?
The thing is idk how to!
I just- my stomach feels all fluttery
Not in a bad way tho! Not like a roller-coaster fluttery or about-to-go-on-stage-and-sing-in-front-of-millions-upon-millions-of-people fluttery
But like- a good fluttery I guess??? I just feel rlly giggly and stuff and it’s weird- but weird in a good way…
…
That doesn’t make any sense, does it?
No no! I think I understand, sweetie
And I think I can help 😊
WAIT- HUH???
YOU CAN???
Well, not me exactly
As of I’m not home right now
But I’m sure Tom can help!
Wait what-?
How can Tom help w/ this I’m so confused 😭😭😭
Trust me
In the past, I’ve had the feeling you’re feeling right now and Tom is the best person to help with it- so just tell him what you told me!
Uh…alright!
I guess I could do that
Thanks Maddie
It’s no problem, Sonic sweetie 😊
Okay, thanks again- I’m gonna go talk to him now
Bye!
Okay bye! Love you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️☺️☺️
Love you too 😗❤️
Sonic got up from his beanbag chair, put his phone inside of the desk and opened the hatch downstairs. Sonic quietly tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to dodge the places in the steps that he knew squeaked if he stepped too hard, peeking over the stairway to see Tom watching TV- and from the looks of it it looked like some sheriff documentary- he’s been watching those a lot lately…but Sonic doesn’t understand the hype. The sheriff’s on the TV could be talking about some random paint splatter on the ground and Tom would be hooked.
“I can hear you trying to be quiet up there, Sonic.” Tom chuckled, still facing the TV as he went to grab the remote on the armrest and pause the TV. The brunette turned to Sonic with a “hah! Caught ya” grin, a grin Sonic knew all too well in his last months of living with him.
The hedgehog sighed in defeat of being caught, walking down the stairs and going next to the couch Tom was sitting at. The brunette had a grey/gray shirt on with a light plaid print jacket, matching with some black pants and white socks.
“Uh…’sup, Tom.” Sonic said as casually as he could before leaning on the couches’ arm rest. The brunette eyed Sonic suspiciously, raising one eyebrow as he crossed his arms. Sonic started to sweat under the older man’s glare, whistling and looking anywhere but Tom’s direction.
“What did you do, Sonic?” Tom sighed, taking the blue hedgehogs’ sudden nervousness as a sign of him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I didn't do anything!” Sonic said, mimicking Tom’s expression and pose. The two looked at each other in the pose for a solid minute or two before laughing at their silliness.
“So what do you need, little man?” Tom asked. Sonic cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands and began looking at his feet because honestly? Staring at the ground was much much more easier than looking at Tom at the moment. “I just…I figured we could- y’know- hang out I guess?” The blue hedgehog started, “Some uhm…y’know some father-son bonding activities…?” Sonic said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking down on the ground.
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two and Sonic didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. And the more the silence dragged on the more the blue hedgehog started to second guess himself about coming down to the living room.
Pfft, “Father-son bonding?” He really has reached a whole new level of patheticness, huh? Why would Tom want to spend time with him? He’s just keeping him around because he pity’s him. He doesn’t actually enjoy his company. Just wait until Tom gets tired of him, then he’ll be all alone again-
Oh this was a mistake.
This was such SUCH a mistake.
***Harmful stimming starts***
The hedgehog started lightly pulling on his quills out of nervousness with one hand while his other hand started tapping the side of his leg, “O-Or whatever. If- If you want to of course. I don’t want it to seem like you're being forced, hah!” Sonic said, letting out the best fake laugh he could muster before speaking again. “I-If you’re busy- y’know….with, uhh, you’re sheriff stuff…that’s fine as well. I don’t- I don’t care.” Sonic started slowly backing away from Tom, still pulling on his quills- but a tad bit harder this time as his hand tapping on his leg started increasing faster.
Sonic could hear faint talking in front of him but he couldn’t focus on it. The only thing he needed to focus on was leaving before he embarrassed himself more. “Y’know what? I-I should go, you’re probably doing something busy anyway, uh…lemme get out of your hair, man.” Sonic grimaced, turning away and going to the steps, but before he could walk any farther Tom grabbed both his hands gently.
***Harmful stimming stops***
“Hey…let’s not do that, okay? You’re hurting yourself….” Tom said softly, holding Sonic’s hands in his own as he kneeled down to try and match Sonic’s height. “Where are your fidget toys?” Tom gently asked, trying his best to keep the questions short and sweet to not overwhelm the younger. These types of moments have happened before in the Wachowski’s house; when Sonic started to panic, asking him too many questions would get him even more upset, so when this happened they kept the questions to a minimum and straight to the point. “I…I left them upstairs…” Sonic mumbled.
“Oh. That’s okay…uh…here. Sit down on the couch for a sec.” The brunette said as he picked up Sonic and sat him on the couch. Rubbing his head affectionately before walking away to the kitchen rummaging through the kitchen shelves before coming out with a blue squishy ball. He came back to Sonic who gratefully accepted the ball. Tom sat next to Sonic as the younger leaned onto his shoulder, taking another deep breath and exhaling, muscles once tense now relaxed.
“Sorry about that…” Sonic said, squeezing the stress ball harder and glaring at it as if it stole his last chili dogs. Well this wasn’t how he was planning this conversation with Tom to go. The older looked at Sonic sadly before sighing and turning his gaze looking straight ahead to the paused TV. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, kid. It’s alright.” Tom said. The blue hedgehog hummed at the comic, taking a couple more deep breathers.
There was that uncomfortable silence again, the one that Sonic despised. “I just…I dunno. I feel weird…?” Sonic said, squeezing his squishy fidget ball at a faster pace this time. The older didn't say anything but completely turned to Sonic, letting him know he was listening. The younger somewhat shrunk under the older mans’ look, feeling a tad bit pressure to go on but decided to ignore it. He wanted- no. He needed to get this off of his chest.
“Ever since I’ve come to stay with you and Maddie after the defeat of Dr. Robotnik, I’ve felt…odd. I feel tingly, and fluttery and it’s just…weird, because I’ve never felt like this before, ever. I talked to Maddie about it in text and she said to talk to you about it…so uh…here I am!” Sonic sheepishly said.
Tom chuckled, “Is that why you said you wanted some Father-son bonding?” The blue hedgehog blushes at the mention, nodding his head. The older one chuckled once again, rubbing Sonic’s head affectionately, “I’d be happy to help you with this fluttery-feeling, buddy!” The blue hedgehog quickly looked at Tom as his ears went up in surprise.
“Wait. Really?” Sonic asked. “Of course! But before I do, I gotta ask you a question…” Tom said waiting a dramatically long time before continuing his sentence. “Are you ticklish?” The older asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow up. There was a silence between the two, but only this time this one was in complete and utter confusion. The younger ones' eyebrows creased together trying to put together what he was just asked, “Um…gesundheit?”
“What? No, kid.Tickling. Y'know, being ticklish?” Tom said as he wiggled his fingers near Sonic’s face only to be met by a confused look. “I dunno what you are talking about, man…” Sonic chuckled, now relaxing in the hug as he chuckled at the older mans’ surprised face.
Tom’s dumbfounded expression slowly turned to a soft, genuine smile, then it slowly turned into an evil grin. This kid had no idea what tickling is!
…
This kid had no idea what tickling is…
Oh Tom is gonna change that very quickly.
“Uh…Tom? You okay over there? Your face kinda looks like that green person we watched on Christmas…” Sonic said, wincing at the memory of the man’s genuine expression slowly slowly turning into an evil one. Tom stopped with his evil grin (for now at least), and raised his left eyebrow in amusement. “You mean The Grinch?” He asked, laughing when the blue hedgehog nodded happily at the familiar name. “Yeah, yeah! That dude!” Sonic smiled.
“I need you to stay perfectly still for this to work though, okay?” Tom said in the best serious voice he could muster, but probably not as serious as he thought since right after he stopped talking Sonic started laughing a bit. “Pfft, whatever you say, Donut Lord.” Sonic snickered, hopping into Tom’s lap facing sideways.
Tom then began to lightly scratch along Sonic’s sides, the reaction was almost immediate as the blue hedgehog began to squirm lightly and grab at the brunette’s wrists; but not pushing them away. Sonic held his breath; trying not to laugh but that plan started to crumble as Tom began to poke at the youngers’ sides; more quickly than he was before. Sonic let out a tiny shriek before descending into little giggles, kicking his legs and shaking his head. Tom smiled at the adorable sight.
“Whahat? Hehey-! Hehey wahahait! Whahat ahahare yohou dohoing?” Sonic asked while becoming a giggly squirmy mess. Tom chuckled at the youngers’ question, making sure to go easy on him since this was his first time being tickled, so he’d start off with light tickles…for now at least.
“I’m tickling you, silly! Since it does seem to me that you happen to be a bit ticklish~!” Tom cooed, now using two hands to tase around Sonic’s sides. Sonic threw his head back, suddenly lost in a puddle of giggles and fell on the couch, but still in Tom’s grasp as the brunette tickled up and down his sides. “Whahat ahare you tahahalking about?” Sonic giggly asked, his legs lightly stomped on the couch as some pillows fell in the process.
“Hmm, hold on…” Tom said as he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, typing up something but making sure to keep the blue hedgehog in a giggly squirmy mess. “Ah, okay. Goggle states this: Tickling is the act of touching a part of a body in a way that causes involuntary-“ “Ihihi dohohon’t knohow whahat thahat meeheeans!” Sonic whined interrupting Tom, shaking his head back and forth giggling up a storm in the older mans’ lap. “You didnt even let me finish!” Tom laughed, moving one hand to tickle Sonic’s neck while the other still tickled his side.
“PFFT- nAhAHAH! GeHEt ohOUT ohohOHOF theHEhehere!” Sonic giggly demanded, still holding Tom’s wrist as he scrunched up his shoulders. The older man chuckled before digging both of his hands in both sides of the blue hedgehog’s neck, fingers fluttering up, down, left, and right. Sonic’s feet drummed on the couch, trying to make a daring escape but anytime he was even a bit close to leaving, Tom would poke Sonic’s sides, leaving the blue hedgehog to be an adorable giggly mess. “Stahay still!” Tom playfully scolded.
“THIhihIHIs ihihis soHO weeheeird!” The hedgehog giggled, his face beginning to turn a light red. And honestly, if Tom could start crying, he would- out of happiness of course. This was to fucking darn cute.
“How many ribs do you think you have, Sonic?” Tom asked as he held both of Sonic’s arms up against the couch, trying his best to compose himself from not crying from the younger ones’ adorable reactions to the pokes. “Mahaddie sahahaid weehee hahave twehenty-fohour; twehehelve ohon eeheeach sihihide!” Sonic giggly answered, as he remembered Maddie did a walk-through on the human body and how many bones it has.
“Hm…you sure? Maybe I should count them for you…” Tom didn’t even spare the giggly blue hedgehog a second to protest as he pressed his thumb into the lowest rib on the right side of Sonic’s ribcage, kneading and circling at a very very slow pace against the artificial bone. Sonic screeched at the sudden sensation against his ribs, kicking his legs a bit faster as Tom slowly slowly slowly began to “count his ribs”.
“One…two…three…” Tom counted aloud, remaining on a rib for about 5 seconds before moving up to a different one. Sonic lurched in Tom’s lap, attempting to pry himself out by pushing at Tom’s wrists but only caused the older to pin up his arms and continue kneading at his ribs. “NahAHA! WahahHAHAIT, plehHEHEase!” Sonic whined throughout his frantic cries of laughter. “Ihi sahAHAId iHi hahaHAVE tweHEHEnty foHOUR!”
“I'm just double checking!” Tom innocently said as if he wasn’t completely wrecking the boy in his lap at the moment. The blue hedgehog squirmed and squealed at the tickly feeling at his ribs, being unable to do anything but just take it. This went on for a couple more numbers but then Tom suddenly stopped “counting” Sonic’s ribs, giving the kid another breather before hatching another evil plan. “Wait, what number was I on, Sonic?”
“Tohohom! Yohou lihihiterally ohonly counted toohoo sihihix-!”
“Oh, well. I lost count! Guess I have to start all over again~!
Sonic froze in place, laughter now raising an octave as he helplessly squirmed in Tom’s grasp. “WahAHaH- waHahaHAIT *snort* nOHo dahHa- *snort* dohOHOHOn’t!” Sonic snorted, descending into a puddle of maddening cackles feeling the fluttery feeling again. So this was the feeling he was feeling…? He’d have to ask Tom later, when he’s not getting tickled to pieces.
“Awh~! That’s so cute~! You snort when you laugh?” Tom cooed, wiggling his fingers near the blue hedgehog's ribs but very very close to touching him. Sonic’s laughter became more frantic and loud, squirming underneath Tom, and it's not like he could defend himself either! His arms were pinned up! This entire situation just screamed “unfair”. “NahaHAO! IHI *snort* doHOHon’t!” Sonic giggly said, knowing that- yes. Yes he did snort when he laughed, he did just a couple seconds ago…but no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna admit it, especially in this situation.
“Oho really? What was that adorable noise you made just then, hmm?” Tom smugly asked. “YohOu’re heehEEARihing thihIHIngs…” Tom fondly rolled his eyes as he pinched and kneaded Sonic’s ribs, leaving absolutely no bone left out from his tickle torture. Sonic threw his head back and cackled like a madman, snorting every now and again as he squirmed like a worm, trying to stop the ticklish sensation at his ribs.
“NAHAHAO! DAHAHAD *snort* PLEHEASE!” Sonic cried. Tom’s eyes widened at the name title the younger gave, not sure if the blue hedgehog meant to say it, but was very honored and happy at the mention. It made his heart melt. “Please what, Sonic? Pleaseeeeee keep tickling you?” Tom smugly teased, grin widening as he saw Sonic’s face heat up in embarrassment. Guess he’s weak to the T-word, huh? Oho I can and will use that to my advantage…
“DAHAHA- *snort* OHOHO MY GOHOD! STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAT!” Sonic yelled as he shook his head back and forth. “Stop saying what, exactly? Tickle~? Ticklish~? Tickled~? Or do you want me to simply stop talking? Which one?” Tom laughed. “YEHEHES!” Sonic cried, not even completely knowing what he just said ‘yes’ to- he was too lost in his own laughter. Tom stopped tickling Sonic, letting him have one last breather before the final kill.
“Ever heard of raspberries, Sonic?” Tom asked, knowing that he the blu hedgehog has, but probably not the ones he’s talking about. “Lihihike thehe fruhuhuit?” Sonic giggly asked. “Nope! Here, lemme show you…” Tom said as he blew a raspberry on the youngers’ tummy causing him to absolutely howl in laughter.
“OHO MY *snort* GAAAHAHAD WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT!” Sonic screamed, completely not prepared for this new tickly feeling on his stomach…and why did it sound so freaking funny??? That was just gonna make him laugh more! “Wait for what Sonic~?” Tom teased as he blew more raspberries on his tummy, and with his free and scribbling up and down Sonic’s ribs.
“WAHAHAIT- *snort* IHI *snort* DOHON’T DOOHOO THAHAHAT!” Sonic cried, blue sparks suddenly forming on the kids’ quills, sparkling here and there but some going off of his quills and onto the carpet floor, disappearing. Sonic cackled in the older Tom’s lap, the blue lightning on his quills adding a new ticklish sensation on him.
“Huh. Well they do say you learn new things everyday…” Tom mumbled, watching some of the lighting sparks fall off of the younger ones quills. “PLEHEHEASE! IHIT’S *snort* TIHIHICKLISH!” Sonic screamed, more tiny little blue sparks flying off of his quills and onto the floor. Tom chuckled at the little blue hedgehogs’ reactions, moving down to Sonic’s lower belly as he began to lightly flutter his fingers around it.
“I think you mean ‘it tickles’, bud.” Tom said into Sonic’s tummy, chuckling. Tom was the sheriff of Green Hills- not the sheriff of grammar; at least last time Sonic checked. Tom began to blow more raspberries all over the little blue hedgehog’s stomach, making sure to add a few nibbles now and again to keep the younger in stitches- which worked out really well on Tom’s part. Sonic’s laughter became more high pitched and loud, snorting more frequently as the older started to raspberry and nibble his stomach.
“OHOHO MY GOHOD *snort* WHATEVER!” Sonic screamed as Tom began to switch between his lips and teeth nibbling mercilessly at Sonic’s tummy leaving the poor blue hedgehog in absolute hysterics.
Tom dug his fingers in the blue hedgehogs underarms.And Sonic screamed. The hedgehog's feet were kicking probably about a million miles per hour, just looking like a complete and utter blur while the blue sparks on Sonic’s quills multiplied.
“So~! I think I found your most ticklish spot, huh~?” Tom chuckled, lightly scratching his fingers in Sonic’s underarms, making sure to dodge the little sparks of blue lightning coming off of Sonic’s quills- which he knew tickled the younger even more due to how much he was laughing. Sonic screamed underneath the brunette’s grasp, trying his best to not kick him in the face but the task being very very hard as his feet were kicking around a million miles per hour.
“NOHOHO- *snort* DAHAHAH! DOHOHON’T!” Sonic howled, shaking his head back and forth while the heels of his feet dug into the couch. Tom, chuckled, now scribbling and scratching in Sonic’s underarms, “I’m barely even touching you!” Tom laughed, almost as hard as Sonic as he began to pick up the pace with his scribbling.
“STAHAHA! *snort* NAHAHA- *snort* PLEHEHEA- *snort* DAHAHAHAD!” Sonic screamed, as happy tears started forming in his eyes which Tom took as a sign that Sonic has enough tickles for today. “Alright, alright! Just say Uncle.” Tom calmly said as if Sonic wasn’t screaming his head off. “WHAHA- *snort* WHAHAT?!
“Juhust say Uncle, kiddo-“ Tom said as he accidentally hit a very ticklish spot in Sonic’s underarm causing the younger to let out a girl-like squeal.
“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! UHUHUNCLE!”
Tom stopped tickling Sonic; letting the kid have a breather and putting him into a tight embrace. The blue hedgehog giggled softly in the hug as he melted into the touch. “You okay?” Tom chuckled, smirking at the younger who was still giggling from the tickles from before. Sonic nodded, wiping away his happy tears with his hand still giggling a bit. “So~, I’m Dad now, huh? What happened to being ‘too cool for your human parental names’?” Sonic blushed, pulling up his hoodie and sinking deeper into Tom’s chest. “Shuhut ihit….”
“I really don’t mind you calling me Dad, bud.” Tom smiled. “Wahait whahat…? Reheally?” Sonic asked in genuine confusion looking up at the older with shiny eyes- Tom swore Sonic’s pupils had stars in them at that moment. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” Tom confirmed, patting Sonic’s back. Sonic’s eyes glistened a bit but the younger one soon wiped them. “Cool…”
“So…that's called tickling?” The blue hedgehog asked.
“Mhm.”
“So…you tickled me?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Sonic said, not being able to say anything more than that. “How’s that fluttery feeling in your stomach doing?” Tom asked. “Fine, it's doing just fine.” Sonic smiled as Tom smiled back, rubbing his head affectionately and chuckling.
“Let's go grab you some water, kiddo. And how about we make some cupcakes after that-“ Tom wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as the blue hedgehog excitedly ran to the kitchen chugging a glass of water and putting out ingredients to make the cupcakes. Tom chuckled, walking over to Sonic to join him.
Tom definitely had to make a note to tell Maddie about his later, but as of right now he was going to bake some cupcakes with his son. And if they burn down the house in the process, oh well…they both can try coming up with a good excuse to tell Maddie as to why the house is in ashes.
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RAAAAAAH THROWS THIS FATHER-SON SHIT AT U 💖💞💞💞💗✨✨
I LOVE THESE TWO GOOFBALLS SMMMMMM THEY MEAN SM TO MEEEEEE😭😭😭💙🤎. But anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!!! I do have a couple more WIP fics on the way that r almost finished and a gift fic for someone as well which is ALSO almost done so be sure to look out for those :)
❗️❗️❗️ALSO DON'T FORGET TO DRINK WATER. ITS FLAVOURLESS BUT ITS GOOD FOR U SO DRINK IT PLZ❗️❗️❗️
#OK-#TAG TIME.#There is a LOT of explaining that imma do so buckle up#So I HC Sonic in the live action movies (2020 and 2022) to have ADHD#And he gets very fidgety a lot#Sometimes when he’s stressed or upset he pulls on his quills (like pulling hair basically) so Maddie decided to get him fidget toys to help#Anytime he’s stressed he just uses them#(Am I projecting Ah-HA. Ofc not…)#And Tom and Maddie KNOW that Sonic doesn’t just like being in one place so they put different fidget toys around the house#And yeah-#Ik that Sonic called Tom “Dad” at the end of the 2nd movie-#BUT~#I just wanted it to be a couple months after the 1st movie bc I thought the plot would make more sense :3#RAAAAH#I’ll explain more I promise lol- I needs to make a whole ass doc or sumthin damn#Also sorry it’d taken so long for a fic 😭😭😭#My WIP’s r almost done I swear- I just need to pizz-azz them#Sonic the Hedgehog#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie tickle#Lee!Sonic#Ler!Tom#Sonic the Hedgehog has ADHD#Sonic the Hedgehog is neurodivergent#Fight me on that.#Holy moly thats a lot of tags lmao
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Hey! So I’ve got an elorcan prompt I’ve been playing around with. So lorcans had a long day is tired and clingy and for once just wants to be looked after. So he tries cuddling elide and she’s a bit like who are u and what have u done with lorcan. So he starts whining and in the end elide gives up and just lets him cuddle her. He dose. On top of her. Like literally flat out on top of her (not crushing her though) and elides like aww my giant teddy bear :)
If u decide to do this please don’t rush! Also I love everything write it’s brilliant 🥰 happy late birthday by the way I hope u had an awesome day u deserve it ❤️
hello lovely anon! thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺 hope you have a wonderful day too 🥰
word count: 993
warnings: absolutely none
enjoy!
My Oaf
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"Elide?" Lorcan's voice echoed through the house. "I'm home, baby!"
"Hey," Elide greeted her husband, her fuzzy socks muffling her footsteps as she padded into the entryway to greet him. "How was your day?"
"Long," he griped, bending down to kiss his wife. "Damn long."
"I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips, cupping her hands around his jaw. "Need anything?"
He sighed into her caress, draping his arms around her petite form, the foot-plus height difference between them not really working in his favor. "I'm hungry."
"We can fix that," she smiled, kissing his forehead before gently nudging him to stand upright. "Go ahead and shower, Lor. I'll have food when you're done."
"Can't I just eat you?" he whispered into her ear, sending a delicious shiver skittering down her spine.
"Later," she chuckled, giving him a little push. "Real food first, my love."
"Fine," he grumbled, pretending to pout as he kissed her once more before heading upstairs, shedding his suit coat and unbuttoning his collared shirt as he went. He barely paused to leave his work bag in the spare room they'd turned into an office before dropping his clothes on the master bedroom floor, a trail of discarded garments following him into the bathroom.
Which definitely would have looked incredibly suspicious to anyone who was not his wife.
He indulged in a longer shower than normal, allowing the hot water and steam to soak into his tired body and soothe his muscles--gods, he swore his damn job was giving him early-onset arthritis and muscle cramps. The mirror was fogged over with steam when he emerged, bringing a wry half-grin to his face, for he knew very well how he loved to tease Elide about the way her steaming-hot showers rendered the mirror useless. Toweling himself off, he pulled on boxers and sweatpants and an old t-shirt, craving comfort more than style. Besides, he was home, who else would be seeing him?
True to Elide's word, there was an array of deliciously mouthwatering scents floating from the kitchen when Lorcan entered, trudging over to the stove to wrap his arms around his five-foot-three wife from behind. At six-five, he was tall enough that her head settled neatly against his chest, making it a little awkward for him to rest his chin atop her head, but that hadn't stopped him yet.
"Hey, you," she chuckled, switching off the burner. "Right on time, love, everything's ready now."
"Must be the growing boy in me," he smirked.
Elide's nose crinkled as she laughed, the throaty sound filling the whole house. "You're incorrigible, husband of mine. I love you."
"Love you more," he returned, stealing a kiss.
"Stop that," she said, affectionately. "There's minestrone and bread, eat all you need."
"The way to my heart," he half-groaned, serving himself a generous bowl of the steaming hot soup the second she placed the pot atop the hot pad on the table.
"Feed a man and he'll stay with you forever, they said," Elide laughed, pouring him some water.
"They're right," Lorcan mumbled, practically inhaling the food. "Gods, this is good, El."
"Glad you like it." Her dark eyes softened as she passed him the ladle so he could have more soup.
He was completely full by the time he helped clear the dishes and load up the dishwasher, flopping onto their large sectional couch with a deep, contented groan. "C'mere, El," he requested, holding out his arms.
She chuckled as she came to him, settling herself on the couch by his side. "Need something, Lor?"
He draped himself atop her lap, widening his eyes. "I need you to hold me, love."
She huffed a laugh. "Babe, am I your pillow?"
"Yeah."
"You're gonna put my legs to sleep," she teased, stroking her fingers through his dark, damp hair.
He shrugged. "I've got ways to remedy that."
She stifled a wicked smirk. "And what if I want you to hold me, love?"
"Nooooo," he protested, shifting himself so he could loop his arms around her hips. "Hold me, babe."
She raised a dark brow. "First I'm your pillow and now you're pleading? Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy Lorcan, hmm?"
He stuck out his lower lip, the sight almost making her burst into giggles. Her massive grumpy husband, a pool of fake petulance and an insatiable need for cuddles. "Please hold me, El? Pleeeease?"
How could she resist him when he was that adorable? "All right, come here, you big oaf."
His grin was almost childish in magnitude. "Your oaf, my love."
"My oaf," she agreed, grinning at him. "I--oof!"
She hadn't expected him to half-tackle her into the couch, melting into her body like she was his own personal pillow, a sigh of pure contentment escaping him as he settled in, his head tucked into the crook of her shoulder. "Am I crushing you?" he asked, concern flickering in his onyx eyes.
"Not at all," she reassured him, skating her fingertips over the angled planes of his face, her soft touch gliding down to his shoulders as she looped her arms around her hulking husband. "Honestly, I kind of like having you draped all over me. You're like a teddy bear."
Lorcan raised a brow. "Teddy bear?"
Elide nodded. "A great big grumpy teddy bear."
He huffed a wry laugh, his eyes drifting closed. "Not an analogy you've used before, El."
"Fits," she shrugged, working her thumbs into the knots in his broad shoulders, massaging out the tension.
"Hrrmmmphhh." His incoherent mumble was agreement enough.
A soft, contented smile curled her lips as she held her massive hulking husband close, his weight and warmth atop her making her feel so safe, so protected. Within half an hour, he was out, his breathing deep and even and steady, his chest gently rising and falling against her.
Her grumpy teddy-bear oaf of a husband.
She wouldn't trade this for the whole entire world.
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
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@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
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#my writing#answered prompt#elorcan#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#elide x lorcan#elorcan fanfiction#all fluff#ps this wasn't rushed :)#it sat in my drafts for a while#lovely anon
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I posted 511 times in 2022
101 posts created (20%)
410 posts reblogged (80%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@madwheelerz
@aemiron-main
@kidovna
@knightl1ng
@no-ordinary-demigirl
I tagged 440 of my posts in 2022
Only 14% of my posts had no tags
#stranger things - 287 posts
#mike wheeler - 198 posts
#byler - 144 posts
#will byers - 90 posts
#lucas sinclair - 58 posts
#el hopper - 53 posts
#max mayfield - 48 posts
#eleven hopper - 47 posts
#jane hopper - 43 posts
#dustin henderson - 29 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#spurred on by my heart aching and wanting to cry inside everytime one of my friends say “i think i left my beanie at [other persons] house’
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Thinking about everyone in the party just stealing Lucas’ clothes and everyone has their favorites. Like with Erica of course it’s just their laundry getting mixed or the first jacket she sees before getting the mail but she loves taking the expensive sunglasses he never wears out places with her bc it makes him mad. And then Max mixes up the matching stuff they bought all the time but also steals shirts she likes. Dustin wears Lucas’ bandannas and his hat from season one actually used to be Lucas’. Will hates the cold ever since the MF so Lucas will just give him hoodies and flannels that aren’t his style, Will loves the jacket with the fuzzy collar. El is a chronic shirt stealer with both Lucas and Will, and her favorite is the shirt she wore before the piggyback. Mike claims to hate sports (and he does) but has taken Lucas’ windbreaker hostage and wears his letterman every chance he gets
128 notes - Posted November 15, 2022
#4
What I say: I’m fine
What I mean: Mike wheeler has been established as a caring,supportive, and protective friend from very early on in the story. The only time he ever has outburst of anger/moodiness are in times when he’s under emotional distress. The entirety of season 3 Mike is acting out towards Will. Its established that Mike often takes his anger out on other people (“what is wrong with you” to El in season 1, punching hopper in season 2) Most of these times he’s angry at himself for his own shortcomings, he’s projecting. The big Mike Wheeler argument of season three isn’t him breaking up with his girlfriend, it’s him and will’s fight, where he says “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”. Why would Mike, a caring devoted friend, someone who’s seen Will be bullied and been bullied himself, say that to his closest friend. In this context the argument doesn’t make any sense, unless mike is projecting his internalized homophobia onto Will. In this essay I will-
203 notes - Posted June 22, 2022
#3
Dustin being all “it’s so funny that you all have types” and everyone immediately being like “NO I DONT???”
And Dustin is just like “….Lucas, you like brooding people that have a special soft side, max and mike are mean as fuck but you still love them, and will is a quiet brooder but broody nonetheless”
“Eleven Hopper I love you so much but me and max are the biggest dorks around you, you like girls who’s brains go dumb at the sight of you. And I know Mike was your beard but him and max are literally the same person different font”
“Speaking of mike- El being your beard HAD to be projection because there’s no fucking way you found the nicest person in the party that WASNT Lucas or Will on accident. You did that shit subconsciously and you need to know it. Also will and Lucas are buff as shit”
“Will you like guys who are nice to and would die for you, but you can also bicker with like an old married couple. I think you knew this already tho, love u”
“Max ur literally dating Lucas and El, who cant be too close without me actually tearing up because they are so Nice. They’re also super protective and you act like you don’t like it but you do. I know this cuz we’re besties”
And everyone is just like stunned into silence
301 notes - Posted September 24, 2022
#2
Wait actually I’m thinking about how if Will and mike are stuck in the upside down in s5 the lighting will be mainly blue for them… and this season the lighting was mainly yellow. Yellow means wills pov and blue means mikes are u picking up what I am putting down
355 notes - Posted September 25, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Elmike breaking up bc they’re both gay only to be in love v the opposite gender versions of each other is so
462 notes - Posted August 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#This is so silly goofy of me#Also hella shocked mike wasn’t my number one tag
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Eyes emoji for this au you speak of and this legundo- what does that whole period of time look like while they're still discovering the empty world of miniate(?)
hello poke popcornsalty my beloved friend,
SO!!
first of all, mianite, both seasons if i remember correctly were minecraft 1.7, the only difference is s2 was modded (heavily modded, it was insane)
so the main timeline, it takes 100 days, cause thats well. 100 days multiverse. thats the thing.
so the first day, honestly, its probably just wandering around staring at everything, followed by a few days of picking a place to live, and stealing shit from the abandoned houses nearby, and setting up a sustainable food source. i image he takes up residence in jerrys tree, because its huge, kickass, and empty, its also a giant tree so there's limited structural damage compared to a lot of the other structures.
after a while of getting together some resources, its a matter of figuring out stuff while just... surviving. get better tools, look for hints of what happened here, set up a farm, wonder if he'll get whisked away on day 100 again.
the world itself, i mean, its obvious that its Old, its a 1.7 world, however i think legundo dropping in brings new live to the world, updating it to 1.19, bringing with it a Lot of new things, new blocks, new biomes, new animals, you name it. so he explores, and he fixes up the various structures just to have something to do, the dragons already been killed in this world, but hes done that before anyways, killing the warden, well, i mean he escaped the last world 2 days early, but its hard to tell if thats done anything yet, so boss battles seem optional, so its mostly just... exploration and waiting. theres no mods to make it more interesting, theres no strange twist, at least not yet, so he just... chills. takes a bit of a break. theres a mystery here in all the dust, and he'll look into it and see what happened.
i do also imagine, that the s1 gods (at least the two that are alive) are keeping an eye on him, but the s1 gods are also very hands off at the best of times, so i doubt they do anything, at least until the other streamers and co literally fall out of the sky back into the world.
the timeline itself is kinda fuzzy, but thats just kinda how minecraft is
the others, so, at the end of mianite s1 the 4 streamers jump into the void in order to go home, its a leap of faith. i cant tell you if that faith paid off because they didnt go home, they ended up in season 2, a completely different universe with different versions of the gods, and like 500 mods
at the end of s2, that universe is literally falling apart, and they jump into a portal in order to escape, and then s3 never happened so we dont actually know where they went. most people assume they probably went back to s1 for the lore reasons, but logically if s3 had happened they probably would have ended up in a new, maybe not as modded but updated to the newest version of minecraft world, where ianite is the beeg (bc in s1 it was dianite and in s2 is was mianite but also world historian- complicated)
for this, i chose go back to s1, because it works well and doesnt require as much world building on my part, since im already combining 2 things most people havent heard of
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Digital Heart
Foul Legacy Childe x Reader
Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned)
Angst
Warnings: Falling, fighting, minor injuries, nausea, breathlessness
In which Genshin is an interactive RPG accessed through an immersive headset, and you find yourself pushed to play it by your friends.
~ * ~
It started with a game.
For thirty days and thirty nights, your friends have been pleading for you to play it. Genshin Impact it was called, an free immersive open-world RPG with hundreds of weapons, characters, and power ups. Accessible through a specialized headset that tracked movement, it had only been a month since the freely downloadable game’s release and it was already a success, garnering praise from the customizable main character and the interactive playstyle. Play it. Your friends beg. You’ll love it. We can play together.
You refuse at first. The game might be free, but the headset isn’t, and you need to save that money to pay for food and clothes. Alongside your financial state was your schedule, a long list of work and chores that left little time to play games with constant updates like Genshin, so you told your friends- politely, as that’s how you were raised- that it’d have to wait. They agreed, quietly.
Then the next day, they ask again. You make an excuse- too much work. They agree, again.
The second day, asking. You’re too tired, you say. Of course, they respond.
Everyday, the same question. The same request, the same demand. It wears on you, amused exasperation drawing a sigh from you everytime you open your notifications.
Play it.
You can’t.
Play it.
You don’t have time.
Play it.
You need to focus!
Play it.
…
…Alright.
Finally, you cave. You create an account, a headset en route to your house. You clear an area in your house so you don’t accidentally hit anything. The headset arrives, and you insert the batteries, said to last up to an entire day playing nonstop, a stage you dearly hope you never reach. You pull it down over your head, cringing at the thought of your hair getting so mussed, and switch it on. A long and potentially worrying warning flashes before your eyes and you blink, not used to the in-depth cameras yet, as the screen goes white.
Welcome to Genshin Impact! Please name your character… appears, and you subsequently slip down the rabbit hole.
It’s fun, you find. Your friends were right, you did like Genshin Impact, although you thank your lucky stars that you weren’t as attached as some players were, as you still had work and life to attend to. The combat and story were enjoyable, and the characters were funny and diverse in personality and playstyles. The main character, who was also your customizable avatar, was quite literally you, the story explained, a traveler from distant lands who fell face first into Teyvat by mistake and tragedy. Of course you still haven’t gotten entirely used to the whole immersion thing, and sometimes shuddered under the eerily real programming of the NPCs and characters, but that was nigh unnoticeable when focusing on fighting monsters. Your deep love for exploration and discovery surfaces, and you take as long as you want exploring every inch of the wonderfully modelled map as you follow the main story, or “Archon Quests”. You calm the great dragon Dvalin and bid your friends at Mondstadt- Kaeya, Amber, Lisa, Diluc, Jean, and Venti- goodbye, Liyue sprawling out before you in wooded forests and cloud-covered mountains. A mysterious man runs across you at the Inn, the immortal Adeptus Xiao, although you would’ve thought he was quite young due to his short stature, and you encounter Zhongli in the Harbor, along with Lady Ningguang and her subordinates, Keqing and Ganyu. A member of the malicious-seeming Fatui also greets you and introduces himself as Childe, a name you don’t trust for a second, yet find yourself getting strangely attached too. The story progresses with you at Zhongli and Ningguang’s sides, the suspicion being pointed more and more to the Fatui, and you find yourself staring up at the elegant pillars of the Golden House, the mora mint building.
You gulp. You know this is where Childe’s boss battle takes place, and you’re not sure if your team is prepared, even if you stocked up on food right before leaving the Harbor. Inhaling a deep breath, you shove the enormous front doors open, and a cutscene pulls your fear tight against your throat. Everyone’s suspicions were right- he was here to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, and you have to stop him.
Easier said than done. The cutscene of your face shows a determined, fierce expression, instead of the nervous one you had in real life, and you almost laugh. You dearly hope your characters are strong enough, and step into the arena.
Phases One and Two are relatively short, as you quickly learn to avoid using Childe’s respective elements of his Vision and Delusion while his shield is up. The battle is fun and fast-paced, and you feel a thrill in your bones as you dodge another attack before swinging your sword in retaliation. Childe stumbles, and Phase Two ends with a cutscene. The corpse of Rex Lapis, something you considered a bit gruesome, is discovered to have no gnosis, and you can feel the raw anger in the Harbinger’s voice as the air crackles and hisses. A horrible, blinding light shines, and Childe is gone.
At least, human Childe is gone. In his place floats a monstrous version of himself, nearly 14 feet tall and complete with horns and armor, and your mouth drops open slightly as you gaze at him wide eyed. But your focus is violently shifted when the floor cracks and turns to dust, sending you tumbling down into the belly of the Golden House. You land with an unceremonial thump, thankful that the creators hadn’t been cruel enough to make you feel the damage you took in-game.
And Phase Three, the final phase of Harbinger Tartaglia, commences.
He has considerably more health, and his attacks can range from irritating to deadly, you just barely dodging the falling Hydro arrows that would’ve slaughtered your current character. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re sneaking glances at your attacker every few minutes. Your mind wanders to the lore as you shield yourself from violet lightning. Does this transformation hurt? Where does it come from? Why does it look like a moth? Maybe one day you’ll get answers.
Despite the raised difficulty, Phase Three also ends rather quickly. Your characters, it seems, were overleveled. The remainder of the Archon Quest passes, Childe reappearing once at the end, and it’s over. The screen blips off as you log out and place the headset on a table before laying on your bed and using the last few hours before bed to contemplate what you’ve just seen.
The next days quickly fall into routine. After completing all your work, you’d take an hour or two to play Genshin, leveling up your characters even more and going through various quests, Childe’s included. You see his transformation, dubbed the Foul Legacy form, again, and almost swoon before stopping and giving yourself a harsh scolding. You fulfill requests and tasks for various people around Teyvat, or at least the parts of Teyvat you can access, and improve your skills and stats. You have a talent for dodging, you find, and use it to your advantage while fighting.
And every Monday, when the clock resets, you re-enter Golden House to battle with Childe and claim your just rewards.
Of course you could do it everyday, but a squirming, guilty feeling in your gut stops you, making you feel like you’re hurting him, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s simply a video game character, a program in an electronic system.
This thought makes you a bit sad, you think.
The fights are getting easier, something you credit to your rising stars of characters, and you stand before the Ley Line Blossom quicker and quicker each time, something you expect to be no different today.
Phases One and Two are just the same as you take advantage of Vaporize and Overload, drowning out Childe’s pre-programmed sounds of pain with your own abilities. The battle pauses, and you’re transported to the same chamber underground, with its fiery walls and glittering arches, as the fight resumes. With the same attacks and characters, it’s becoming a tad dull, and you frown, wondering if you should try to get another character soon.
You’re lost in your thoughts when you slip and fall.
This you feel in the real world, having landed hard on your back and knocked the air out of your lungs. For a few moments you struggle to breathe, and Childe takes the opportunity to appear right over you, his spear flashing purple. You swear internally, bracing yourself as he readies his weapon.
But the strike never comes. You inhale desperately, oxygen finally flowing into your chest, and open your eyes. The graphics of your game are gray and fuzzy around the edges, framing Childe as he slowly puts his spear down and, to your amazement and slight terror, jerkily reaches towards you. Voice clips play overhead, pieced together to make not words, but a static-interspersed whining sound, much like a concerned beast. Your eyes widen, and Childe stops, withdrawing slightly almost as if he’s worried that you’re afraid, and you whisper his name once, as a tentative question.
Then with crackle and a ping, your game crashes and everything goes black.
You gasp and rip off the headset, chest heaving as you struggle to comprehend what just happened. You’re shaking, nervous and fearful, but curiosity runs strong through your veins. Your finger slides towards the On button, and you press it and slip the device back on.
You’re standing outside, the doors of the Golden House closed as if the battle never happened. The guards surrounding it look ordinary, occasionally repeating phrases you’ve heard and ignored countless times. Glancing around and trying to squash the nauseous bubbling feeling in your gut, you push the doors open again.
It’s different this time. Instead of being in the upper room, you fall a short distance into the Third Phase Chamber, your shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Childe floats in the center, his back to you, and you take a tentative step forward. He turns and looks you dead in the eyes, before flinging his spear to the side and rushing towards you on his feet, kneeling to your height. Instinctively, you jump away as he sits on the ground before you, letting out joyful chirps and trills, sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You approach him, sword held loosely in your hand as an extra precaution, and he tilts his head and coos as you cautiously sit with him. Your hands are trembling as you try to understand that this is real, he is real, all of this is happening.
And if it’s not, then it’s some damn good programming.
Questions start to fill your mind, one after another, and you ask him, responses coming as a nod or a headshake.
Is this real?
Yes.
Or programming?
No.
Could you always do this?
No.
Just today?
No.
Over a period of time.
Yes.
How…?
The final question hangs in the air, and he shrugs slightly, then points at you. You did this. You woke him up, made him feel pain, sorrow, and happiness, all stemming from you, his love for you. From the minute the Archon Quests let you meet, he was vaguely curious, the most emotion he’s ever felt in his cold, empty programming since before. And when the code broke, he adored you, not like Childe viciously adored battle, but a soft adoration, one with all his digital heart could muster. You smile, and he purrs at what a wonderful smile it is.
Something flickers in the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. You turn and squint, then gasp as your surroundings begin to dissolve into colorful squares, the game taunting you as it glitches and lags. You and Childe leap to your feet, only to watch helplessly as the world crumbles away. You look down at your hands and see them beginning to break apart into pixels. Childe reaches out to hug you, to hold you close, but his hand passes right through you, a sickening reminder of how unreal he is. He wails in anguish as you both try to grasp each other, only to shatter more, the pixels covering your screen like rain on a windowpane.
Your game crashes for a second time, the only sound a desperate whimper that soon fades into an electronic squealing.
It takes a week to fix your device, the tech people saying that it was “overloaded”. Finally the repairs are finished, and you’re back at the Golden House, the doors already ajar. You slip into the room, expecting either a battle or, hopefully, someone to greet you.
But the room is empty. No one, human nor monster, stands in the center. Instead there is one lonely Ley Line Blossom, waiting, the final gift from an impossible love.
#genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#gi ajax#foul legacy#foul legacy childe#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#foul legacy x reader#sfw#genshin sfw#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin angst#HERE IT ISSSS#i had a really fun time writing this#idk if anyone will like it bc they might find it cringey but i had a grand time writing it#yes i know it's late shut up shut upppp#i'll reblog it tomorrow#i dont expect many people to like this but it made me happy so i don't care!!!#i've been doing this and drawing rosaria for the entire day#it's fun!! hopefully more tomorrow#anyways enjoy!!! >:)c#genshin au#wifi writes#genshin fic
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Hi can I request the boys reactions to coming back and seeing that MC has snucked into their beds
The Brothers Find the MC Asleep in Their Bed
This is that other bed request. Back to my fluffy content! Huzzah!! I was a fidgeting mess on that last one… If it wasn't in second person I probably would have never gotten through it… 🤦♀️😅 Amazing how distancing the pronoun "you" can be when you're writing: "Oh no, this ain't happening to me, it's gonna happen to you. I dunno what to tell ya." 🤷♀️ I give my props for this to one to my favorite jazz singers, Nicki Parrot, and her rendition of I Won't Last a Day Without You.
Intro:
If you're missing someone and, presumably, you have a fairly intimate relationship then something you can do is stay in their bed. Sure, your loved one’s body may not be next to yours but the familiarity can help soothe that aching heart… So when the brothers were away from the House for a few days, it wasn't totally unreasonable for the MC to sneak a night or two in their favorite demon's bed.
If only they had known said demon would come home early…
Lucifer
It was a looong trip for him. Lucifer only goes up to the human world for business reasons and usually he has to bring Mammon to keep an eye on him, which he also swears ages him by a century each time he does…
When he retired to his room that night he wasn't really looking to talk or interact with anyone, not his brothers and not even the MC. He just wanted to go to sleep…
He wasn't expecting to find his human curled up under his sheets, though. And without him there no less.
Had it been another day, he might have just woken them up and sent them away or slept somewhere else but that night, after the trip he had, he felt so… loved all of sudden...
His brothers never miss him when he leaves. They give him the usual welcoming rigmarole when he gets back, "Good to see you, how was the trip?" that kind of thing, but he can tell they're all disappointed that he's back to discipline them again…
But here was the MC, apparently wanting him back so much that they'd risk breaking into his room just to feel close to him again… It's honestly good he was the only conscious soul in the room because if anyone else had seen the look on his face, he'd have to start erasing some memories again.
He changed clothes quietly before getting into the bed himself, careful not to jostle them too much. Only once he was settled in, did he give them a tender kiss to their forehead and finally got a good night's sleep...
Mammon
Look, he never asks to be dragged along with Lucifer on his business trips! It's a pain in the ass for everyone involved so he was more than happy to be home...
So happy in fact, that he didn't think to check his bed before he went sailing into it face first…
When he didn't feel the cushion of his mattress below him, but what felt like muscle and bone, he screamed. Which caused the MC to shoot up from under his covers and scream right back at him.
The two dummies screamed at each other for about five seconds straight before it clicked that neither even knew what they were screaming about… 🙄
"MC?!? The hell are ya doin'?! This is my bed, ya know??"
Oh was he tickled pink when they told him they came there just 'cause they missed him so much… Of course they'd miss the Great Mammon! Anybody who got to spend that much time in his presence would eventually! And he had been missing them so much he could hardly see straight anyway...
"Geez, is that all? Well fine! You can stay the night, but only for tonight! … I mean, unless ya want to stay longer or somethin' crazy like that….. You want to, doncha?"
And that's how the MC ended up spending the next week in the arms of their first man… and getting a pretty good bruise on their shoulder too from Mammon's thick skull slamming into it.
Leviathan
He was coming back from a three-day convention and boy was he tired… There's only so much excitement an introvert can withstand for that long without shutting down completely...
His first clue that something was a little off was his door. It was unlocked. Since he was positive he locked it before he left, he was already on edge... Mammon was in there stealing his stuff again, wasn’t he??
He had his demon form already out when he threw the door open, expecting to have to chase out a thief, but instead he found the MC's arm sticking out of his bathtub-bed.
Cue an incredibly flustered Levi. Did the MC really want to sleep with him? A yucky otaku?? Did they miss him that much?? For a brief moment, he hit cloud nine and beyond.
Levi was frozen in his doorway for a good five minutes, too afraid to walk in and possibly disturb them, before he finally tiptoed to have a look in the tub.
…. He may or may not have snapped a picture when he saw them snuggled against his Ruri-chan body pillow… So what if that's a little creepy??? You're creepy!!
There wasn't really a good way for him to squeeze in with them so he settled for pulling his computer chair over and taking their outstretched hand in his own...
He stayed like that all night until the MC woke up to find him passed out next to them, head rolled back in the chair but still holding their hand with laced fingers...
Satan
He hates going to the human world with Lucifer, even though he acknowledges that he's better behaved than the others for it. That doesn't change the fact that he'd much rather be back in his room with a good book...
He just wasn't expecting the MC to share his sentiments so… identically?
After his trip to Paris with Lucifer, Satan dragged his bags back into his room and expected to at least get another hour of reading in before his mind finally caught up with his body… But to his surprise, his bed was already occupied.
The MC was half-under his covers with their head wedged into the corner of the wall above his pillows, sound asleep… A stray book sat by their hand, one of his favorites too judging by the cover.
He felt the warmth of a chuckle escape his chest… How many times had he woken up in that exact same position? It was almost like they missed him so badly they tried to be him for a while... It was all too cute for words…
He put aside getting some sleep just long enough to take care of his MC, gently moving their body back under the covers and setting the book onto one of the endless stacks that surrounded his bed.
Only once he had them placed into a more comfortable position did he change his clothes and take the spot in the bed next to them…
The MC woke up very much not how they fell asleep… but trading out a good book in their hand for a warm bookworm against their body wasn't a bad deal now, was it?
Asmodeus
He was on one of those long self-care retreats and though, yes, it was a good time he really needed a good nap after such a long trip… He was even considering shortening his nightly routine for once.
When he came into his room, he was ready to just faceplant into his pillows until he spied MC's head poking out from under his covers…
He squealed, but not out of anger or fright. No, no. He felt nothing but Pure. Joy. His heart was soaring and he could have sang, he was just that happy!
His human missed him so much that they just needed to wrap themselves up under his covers?? Well, of course they would wouldn't they? There's no good substitute for Asmo and he knows it.
His literal shriek made the MC shoot out of his bed and try to apologize but he just tackled them back down, wrapping his arms around them in a vice grip of adoration. He was not letting them back down now. It was cuddle time!
In truth, their sudden appearance shocked Asmo awake for about another hour, which he spent snuggled up to his MC and babbling about his trip. He did eventually lose steam though, falling asleep soundly with his head snuggled into the crook of their neck.
The lovey mood was dampened slightly when he woke up and realized he hadn't done any of his routine the night before, but since the MC was still resting in his arms he decided that, just this once, he didn't need to rush it...
Beelzebub
Beel's team had just come back from a long tournament trip and, for the first time ever, he could say that he was more tired than he was hungry…
Belphie was really happy to have his twin back, but this time he was kind of ignoring his brother's excitement as his mind zoned in on his bed… He almost didn't notice the MC was even in there until he pulled back the covers to climb in himself.
His poor sleep-deprived mind had to take a minute to catch up… This was his bed wasn't it...? 😰
"Beel? Is that MC?" "... I think so?" "Why are they in your bed?" "I don't know… Maybe they just wanted to sleep here?" "... Uh-huh. Hey, Beel, I know you're tired. How about you just take my bed instead since it's free? I'll take yours tonight."
Since he was so exhausted, Beel almost considered the offer until he noticed the resentful pout on Belphie's face... Oh. Right. The MC probably wanted to sleep with him. That meant they must have missed him… That thought alone gave Beel a warm, fuzzy feeling like he'd just taken a giant gulp of hot cocoa and he just couldn't help his groggy smile.
"No… This is fine." "But-" "I don't mind, Belphie. Goodnight."
He didn't give his jealous twin any more room to argue before he climbed into bed next to the MC, nestling them close to his chest as if he was welcoming them home instead. And in his last moments of consciousness, Beel promised himself that they'd wake up just like this too…
Belphegor
Belphie tends to hate trips about as much as Levi, especially ones where Beel or the MC can't come along... Too much hassle and all his brothers make so much noise…
When he finally got back from the trip Lucifer dragged him into, he only had one thing on his mind. Sleep. His bed was calling to him, that's where he needed to be… and the MC too, apparently?
He was honestly a little caught off guard to find the MC in his bed... The attic bed? Sure. That was their cuddle space and it was practically sacred ground at that point. But the bed in the room he shared with Beel...? They didn't stay there very often…
Which meant they weren't in his bed just because they wanted to sleep. They wanted him… Had they been awake he might have had something smug to say, but without any audience to save face to he just felt somewhat honored…
There wasn't a day that went by where Belphie didn't regret the things he'd done to them, even during the quiet moments where they assured him that they'd forgiven him for it... Seeing them there in his actual bed proved something, they chose him. No one else.
He didn't think twice about crawling under there next to them, he even got into his usual position by their side on instinct. But this time, for a minute or two, he just watched their sleeping form peacefully and counted himself lucky to even be there…
When the MC woke up to Belphegor wrapped around them, an adoring smile nuzzled into their neck, and they just had to wonder if the mere act of sleeping alone was all they’d ever need to summon their demon home...
#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios
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Could I request a slasher fic on how they propose? I have been thinking about it but I think you could do it more justice!(also totally ignore if you dont want to)
The Slashers and Proposing:
Thomas Hewitt
Thomas wants marriage so much. The idea of having a ‘normal’ family is everything to him. Getting married, having children (biological or adopted), it just makes him feel all fuzzy on the inside.
So, after so long of dating, Thomas was starting to consider proposing to you. He would talk to Luda May about it first, asking for her opinion and advice, and she was very encouraging.
Just like most of the slashers, he would have to get a ring from a victim. Even if he could go into the nearest town, he wouldn’t have the money to buy a decent ring and you only deserve the best.
Luda May would be in a really good mood ever since Thomas brought up the idea of marriage. She’ll be giving you looks and smiles that make you think that something is going on that you don’t know about.
Thomas and you will take a walk one afternoon, something the two of you would do to get away from the family when you had some free time.
When you get away from the house, he’ll stop walking, expressing how much he loves you. Whether he signs it or gives you a note. Then he will get down on his knee and hold the ring out to you, just like Luda May had told him too.
When you agree to marry him, he’ll pull you into an embrace. He feels like he could cry when he buries his face in your hair. He just loves you so much and now he’s going to be your husbands. He’s going to be a husband!
As soon as you return to the house and Luda May notices the ring on your finger, she is congratulating you both. You were already family but now you would be officially. She’s already planning your future with Thomas but just let her, he’s just excited.
Michael Myers
Never though of marriage. Not once. Realistically, never will.
Now, he’ll do something eventually. It’s far from traditional but means a lot coming from him.
You will have had to have mentioned marriage at some point. Given him some reason to believe you wanted marriage.
He doesn’t think about it again until he’s killing a victim and notices the ring on their finger.
He will either pocket the ring or steal one from elsewhere.
When he comes home, you’re asleep. He’ll slide the ring into your finger and go to bed like nothing happened.
You don’t notice the ring at first until you’re making breakfast, freezing when you see the ring on your finger...the only explanation was Michael.
When he comes into the kitchen, you smile and walk up to him. You lean up to give him a gentle kiss and he allows it. But doesn’t really respond when you joke about how he should have asked but yes, of course, you’d marry him.
You’re his, he didn’t need you to answer the question to know that. But...it’s still nice to hear, he supposes.
Jason Voorhees
Jason wants everything to be perfect for you!
He has to get the ring from a victim and he gathers a small collection before he picks the one he wants to propose to you with. He just wanted to make sure he picked the best one, the one you would like the most.
He’ll even take you out on a cute little date. Probably a picnic in a pretty location in the forest.
He’s noticeably nervous the whole time, especially when it’s coming up to the big question.
When you ask him if he’s alright, he will nod and try to collect himself.
His mother raised him to be a gentleman so he knows what to do, getting onto one knee and pulling the ring from his pocket. He hopes you get the idea because he can’t really sign anything when he’s presenting you with the ring.
But you do understand and you accept, pulling him into a hug, feeling him physically relax in your embrace.
Brahms Heelshire
Brahms had spent a lot of his life reading books from the house’s large library, which includes romances. So he’s thought about relationships, marriage, and all of that before.
But its wasn’t until you that he started putting himself in that position. He’s craved a relationship for a long time but he’s only started craving marriage recently, with you.
Can’t get a ring...but after you say yes he tell you that you can get yourself one with his family’s money...sorry.
You’ll have dinner as usual. Afterwards, Brahms will put on some music and ask you to dance, which isn’t unusual, you just think he’s in a good mood. You’re not wrong, but that’s not the full story.
The two of you dance and finally he asks you if you like to marry him. You make him smile more than ever when you say yes.
Bo Sinclair
It’s definitely going to take a while to get a marriage proposal from this man.
He just never thought about it, never considered it. He knows that he plans on having you by his side for the foreseeable future, so why does marriage feel like such a huge step for him?
But at some point he thinks about it and he finds himself smirking at the thought of introducing you to people as his wife/husband/spouse. That’s what encourages him to genuinely consider it.
He pockets an expensive looking ring from a victim, sitting on it for a while until he decides what he wants to do.
He’s not going to make a big deal out of it but he might actually put together a dinner just for the two of you. Nothing fancy but it’s nice.
Then he’ll propose and you’ll probably never expect it from him. But of course you say yes.
He noticeably extra gentle with you that night.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent loves the idea of marry you but is super nervous to propose. What if you say no?! He knows you love him, you’ve proven that to him time and time again, but he can’t help but doubt himself from time to time.
He’d try to make it as romantic as possible, already not liking that the ring he was going to give you was from a victim. It was a pretty ring and he would have bought you one if the brothers had the money for it, but they didn’t.
A romantic candle lit dinner! He’s pretty proud of himself for it. And it is perfect.
It’s after dinner, you walk up to him and wrap your arms around him, asking him what all of this was for.
That’s when he would reach into his pocket, fumbling for the ring before presenting it to you. Hanging his head slightly, shyly. He was adorable.
But of course you accepted and he couldn’t be happier, pulling you into a loving kiss before just embracing you.
Lester Sinclair
You’ll know he’s up to something pretty quick. He’s gotten all cleaned up and has put on a nice shirt, and when you joking ask him what the special occasion is, you quickly realise that he is hiding something. You just don’t know what.
He’ll...try to make you dinner. It’s not bad but usually you cook, or manage it together, but this time he insists on doing it all by himself.
Now you realise that Lester is trying to be romantic, something was coming. The idea of a proposal probably popped into your head at some point in the evening but you could never be sure with Lester, he could be a little unpredictable.
Dinner and wine, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, right?
He’s a real gentleman all night.
After dessert, Lester will give you a cute little speech about how much he loves you and how much you have impacted his life. When he’ll kneel down in front you, presenting you with a ring.
Even if you predicted it, act a little surprised for his sake. He’ll be smiling like an idiot as he pulls you into a kiss when you say nice.
Bubba Sawyer
The thought of marriage does make Bubba happy, it gets him smiling like only you can.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t have anyone to go to for advice. Well, he does but none of them give good advice. He’s better just figuring it out by himself. And he does eventually.
He isn’t sure when to propose because if he had it his way he would have done it already, but he knows that he can’t do it too soon. That being said, there is a chance he will propose pretty quick.
It’s simple. Once he’s found a ring that he likes and thinks will look pretty on you, he is ready.
It will probably just be in his bedroom when you both get some time alone. You’ll both be sitting on the bed, him babbling nervously, you’ll have to take his hands and calm him down.
Once he calms a little, he’ll reach into his pocket and pull out the ring, holding it out to you. As soon as you say yes, Bubba is smiling widely. Put the ring on and pull this boy into a hug, he’ll cling to you for the rest of the night. He’s so happy!
Billy Lenz
A proposal isn’t going to happen for a long time, simply because Billy has never considered marriage, never even thought about it.
He loves you, he wants to be with you, and he wants to be with you forever. Marriage has just literally never come to mind.
It doesn’t come to mind until the two of you were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, the couple getting married. Then he starts to think about it and he realises he would like that a lot, with you.
“Would you marry me?” he lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest as he looked up at you.
You thought it was a hypothetical question. “Sure, Billy. I’d like that a lot” you smile, running your fingers through his hair.
He giggled, leaning up to place kisses against your neck while murmuring “wife/husband/spouse”.
What’s when you realised he was being serious, he had just asked you to marry him while laying on the couch in your pyjamas. It wasn’t the most romantic gesture but it was cute. And your answer stayed the same.
Asa Emory (The Collector)
Asa is the type of guy to take everything into consideration. How would a marriage effect your relationship, how would it fit into his life, and how would it fit in with his ‘hobbies’, those are the most important things he has to consider.
It wouldn’t effect your relationship much at all. You already live with him, you know about what he does at the hotel, he would just call you his spouse. And because you already know about what he does, it wouldn’t effect his work at all. He had no reason to not marry you...
All of that just for him to realise that he really does want to marry you, for more than just appearance reasons. Admittedly, a marriage would be good for keeping appearances in his ‘normal life’, but it’s more than that. He’s decided that he would like to marry you.
Asa probably gives you the most conventional proposal. Probably a nice dinner date, a walk to somewhere more private like a nice park. That’s where he’d propose, already knowing you’d say yes. He’s always in control like that.
Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)
The possessive side of him (and arguably his romantic side) is fond of marriage. You being his in the eyes of everyone, nobody would be able to argue the point. You would be his.
But he still has his reservations. He lives a complicated life. You knowing about that side of him, about the stuff he does, not having to hide anything from you, that’s what pushes him to propose. You are already with him despite all of that, so he didn’t see why that would change in the future.
This man is so damn rich, you’re getting a grand proposal with this man.
He’ll buy you a brand new outfit to wear for the night and when you get to the fancy restaurant, you realised that he had bought out the whole place for the night. Even replacing the usual staff with his own. And you knew something was up, that he had something planned.
And he’d propose with an incredibly expensive ring. He just likes to spoil you, getting you the best of the best.
He’s already confident that you’ll say yes but still smiles when you accept the ring with you own bright smile.
Otis Driftwood
In Otis’s opinion, the proposal should be private. Something that should be personal, just between the two of you, which is arguably romantic in it’s own way.
Will most likely take place in his bedroom, since nobody but the two of you go into there, so it’s private.
He won’t say the words “Will you marry me?” It’s probably going to be more along the lines of “so you wanna be mine for good?”
And he will definitely get you a ring. It’s going to be stolen from a victim but it will be nice. He isn’t going to settle for just any ring he comes across first, he will wait for the perfect ring. If he sees somebody with a real nice ring, he’ll purposely target them for it.
Okay so erm…if you’re alright with gore and stuff, if you partake in his ‘hobbies’, and you have a good sense of humour…he may just present that ring to you while it is still on the victim’s cut off finger. He’ll make an educated guess on whether that would be something you found funny or grossed you out.
Baby Firefly
Probably never thought of getting married before you came along. She never thought about spending the rest of her life with someone, the idea of marriage seemed boring to her.
The usual idea of marriage is settling down with someone, having kids, blah blah blah. She just wants to do fucked up shit!
But then she realised that she wants to spend the rest of her life fucking shit up with you! So that’s what your marriage would be like and that’s what she wants!
She wants to get the perfect ring for you because you deserve it! And she’ll get one for herself. Ideally, she would find matching ones or ones that are very similar.
Like Otis, she will target a victim simply because she’s decided that they are wearing the ring that she wants to propose with.
She’d asked “You wanna marry me?” with a bright smile on her face, already confident that you’re going to say yes.
Yautja (Predator)
The Yautja and humans have very different cultures and traditions. While they don’t have, what we call, marriage and aren’t usually monogamous or the sort to settle down, it’s not impossible.
You’ve talked about marriage traditions with him before, just when you were discussing the differences between both of your cultures.
They don’t get their mates rings, that’s a difference. But humans do, so he will. He wants to try to combine cultures and traditions.
Well, he’s not walking into the nearest jeweller and buying you a ring. Your ring is going to be made of some alien metal that you’ve never heard off, but it’s going to be super strong and super pretty.
He’ll get down on one knee and present you with the ring, just like he had seen in movies you had shown him.
But a ring isn’t the only thing he presents you with. He will also present you with a large skull of an alien you don’t recognise. The skull is meant to prove his capabilities to be a provider and a protector, that’s their tradition. The skull might have been alarming if similar gifts hadn’t been presented to you when he was trying to court you, but this is certainly the largest gift.
#thomas hewitt x reader#michael myers x reader#jason voorhees x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#bubba sawyer x reader#billy lenz x reader#otis driftwood x reader#baby firefly x reader#yautja x reader#predator x reader#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#chromeskull x reader#slashers x reader#slashers#slasher#my writing
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Kissletoe
Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader
Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.
Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.
Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3
A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!
It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.
“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.
You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?
“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.
“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”
She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.
“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.
“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”
“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.
“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.
College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.
You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.
“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”
She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?
“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.
“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.
When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.
“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.
“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.
“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.
“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...
“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.
“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?
“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.
You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.
“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.
“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.
He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.
“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.
"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.
“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.
Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.
“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.
It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.
You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.
“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.
“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.
“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.
“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.
Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.
“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.
“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”
“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.
“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.
“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.
“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.
“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.
You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.
Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.
There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?
“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.
“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.
“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.
“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.
Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.
All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.
“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.
“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.
You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.
You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.
“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.
He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.
“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.
Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.
Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.
“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.
“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.
“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.
“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.
“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.
You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?
“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.
You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.
“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.
You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.
You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.
However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.
Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.
It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…
“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.
He doesn't succeed in convincing you.
How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.
“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.
Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.
“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.
You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.
“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.
Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.
“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.
“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.
“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.
“Bucky,” you start to whine.
“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.
“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.
Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.
“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.
“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.
He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.
When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.
You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.
In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.
Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.
The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.
“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.
Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.
He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.
Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.
“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.
Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.
You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.
“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.
You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.
Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”
Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.
“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.
He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.
His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.
“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”
“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.
You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.
Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.
When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.
“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.
“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.
“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.
“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.
You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.
Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.
You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.
The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.
When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.
“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.
“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.
Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?
A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol.
🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖
#mrwinterr writes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfic#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fanfic#college!bucky barnes#college!bucky#college!au
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everywhere at the end of time | z.cl
summary: in his old age, chenle can’t remember any of it anymore. but you do. you do, and it burns.
pairing: zhong chenle x fem!reader
genre: ANGST, fluff, slice of life, parents au
warnings: dementia, themes of grief, depression, language, suggestive content, period typical sexism, mentions of domestic abuse (not from chenle!), traditional gender roles, body image, kind of implied postpartum depression
word count: 3.8k
a/n: this was inspired by the caretaker’s everywhere at the end of time, a compilation of albums meant to simulate memory loss from dementia when listened to in one sitting. i listened to half of it yesterday, and it was so haunting i needed to write about it. if you decide to listen to it, please be careful. several analyses i’ve seen about it talk about how it can be very emotionally distressing. i personally didn’t feel too upset by it, but be aware.
There was a boy who smiled at you once, from across a dance hall. Long, long ago. His grin, boyish and playful, made your face heat up and your body turn to giggle to your friends. And then, suddenly, he was walking over to you, and reaching out his hand to you. He didn’t seem nervous at all. He looked like he had not a care in the world, as if life were a calm ocean with soft winds and he were a sailboat.
“My name’s Chenle,” He’d said, speaking loudly over the music, “Wanna dance?”
Swing was the thing back then. You barely had time to tell him your name before he pulled you onto the dancefloor and spun you around like there was no tomorrow. You were quite literally swept off of your feet, flying across the hardwood floor as the two of you laughed and danced. When the song was over, you were out of breath. You weren’t quite sure if it was because of how hard you’d danced or because he managed to steal your breath and your heart within a matter of minutes.
Up until then, you were damn sure that love at first sight was impossible. But you were suddenly very sure that love at first dance existed. You’d tell that story for years to come. How you danced a few more songs, how he took you to the side and you spent the next hour or so talking. How your girls tried to tug you away, saying that it was getting late, but you simply didn’t want to leave. You were hooked on him, and he was hooked on you. He begged to see you again, and you very quickly found a napkin and a pen to scratch down your home phone number on.
You said you’d wait for his call, and had left with a lovestruck look on your face. The entire way home, the girls didn’t let you hear the end of it. That he seemed sweet, he was quite the dancer, and my, was he handsome. You probably looked like a fool, mind turning to mush at how gentle his hands were on his waist, how contagious his laugh was, how tentatively he’d listened to you speak.
Once. Long, long ago. It’s all just a burning memory, now.
There was a boy who kissed you, once. It’d been a few months after you’d met. He’d been careful, and you’d bided your time. When he called for the first time, he was very respectful when your father had picked up. The two of you spoke for however long your parents allowed it, talking about anything, everything.
Childhood stories of how he got the scars on his knees. Times you’d gotten into trouble at school. How you were both turning 18, and how adult responsibilities were starting to set in. How Chenle was set to inherit his father’s business and he was terrified of failure. How you desperately wanted to study but your parents wouldn’t let you, because men don’t like it when girls are smarter, and how would you have time to find a husband if you had your nose stuck in books all day long?
Desperately, you both needed a break. Your parents let him take you out because he was a Zhong, and the Zhongs had money, and because he seemed quite taken by you. That was exactly what they wanted.
Chenle was a gentleman first and foremost when he stepped into your home. He spoke with your father about politics while he waited for you to finish getting ready, complimented your mother, and opened the front door for you as you were leaving, promising to have you back by ten o’clock.
One date turned to two, two to three. On the fifth date, when he took you on a walk in the park, he took you to the gazebo to sit on a bench in it. The birds were chirping, and you felt content, despite the dull ache in your feet because of your heels.
Chenle looked down, before meeting your gaze. “I wanted to ask you something,” He murmured. You tilted your head to the side, uncrossing your legs.
“What is it?”
He took your hand in his, leaning closer. “I really like you,” He admitted, “And I wanna be with you. You’re sweet, and fun, and you’re so beautiful. I think about you all damn day, and I think I’d die without you here.”
He smiled fondly, those dimples making an appearance once again. “Be my girl, maybe?”
Your heart did a backflip, and your yes had tumbled from your lips before you could even really think about it.
And then finally, on your seventh date, when he’d taken you to a bookstore and bought you a book about the Amazon rainforest, he kissed you in his car. He tasted like mint and his lips were hard against yours, but not forceful. Like he’d been waiting eons to kiss you and now he simply couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His hands held your face the entire time.
When you pulled away, you no longer saw a boy in front of you. You saw a young man in his place, watching you with reverence and desire.
“I’ve been waiting to do that ever since I first laid eyes on you,” Chenle whispered.
“Well then, don’t just sit there,” You answered, nuzzling your face into his hands, “Kiss me again.”
Kiss you he did. The memory feels like a dream, a sweet one at that. A bit fuzzy but you can recall the softness of his hands if you think about it hard enough.
It’s a memory. Sixty something years later, at least you still have it.
There was a man who teared up at the sight of you in white, once.
He asked you to marry him a year and a half later. Your parents loved him, because he was kind and respectful and rich. His parents tolerated you, because you didn’t talk back too much and your family was respectable enough. Of course you accepted. Who cared about what your parents thought? You adored this man, with his high pitched laugh and his cheeky words. He worshipped the ground you walked on, with your caring attitude and your loving smile.
You were shaking the whole time, trembling like a wet chihuahua on a winter day as your father walked you down the aisle. You watched as his best man, Jisung, whispered something to him, and he nodded, blinking furiously. He looked awestruck, mouth agape and eyes glossy.
When your father left you at the front of the altar with Chenle, your lover squeezed your hand. “I love you so much,” He whispered to you, just before the ceremony could officially begin.
For the first time ever, you saw Zhong Chenle get nervous. His voice was shaking slightly, and you could make out a single drop of sweat on his forehead. You squeezed his hand reassuringly, unable to say anything back as the officiant began the ceremony. He knew what you meant.
Your vows were the traditional cookie cutter vows, the good old fashioned “I do”s. You didn’t care. You knew you’d whisper your own vows to him later tonight. You knew he would do the same.
After that, you danced the night away. Drunk on champagne and love for each other, you could barely remember the party. Jisung gave a lovely speech. You knew that the band played the song you’d first danced to on that one fateful night. Your girls danced with his boys, and he pressed kisses to your cheeks and the top of your head.
You remembered what came after better, after everyone went home. Chenle stole you away to the honeymoon suite to peel your dress off, take off your veil and press kisses onto your hips, and whisper promises of everlasting love against your neck.
That’s all gone now. Even though it’s gone, you’re glad. Because years later, you remember. You look at the faded photographs in the scrapbooks and remember the moment they were taken. They’re all you have now. Because even though Chenle is still in your home, he isn’t Chenle.
There was a man who had taken care of you, once. You’d had your doubts about love, about married life. All of them stemmed from your parents’ marriage. Late night arguments, slamming doors, hands laid on your mother that left her reaching for foundation to hide the bruises during the day. Chenle was there to cast most of them to the side.
Most of them, because no matter how much you love each other, marriage is never a walk in the park. You tried to study. Chenle was paying for your education, much to his parents’ disapproval. Three years into your marriage, and two years into your studies, you got pregnant. Chenle was ecstatic. You, not so much.
It was hard for you. Your body changed, it became hard for you to concentrate. You ended up dropping out because it was simply too much for your mind to handle.
A few months later and you were recovering, trying to adjust to not getting any sleep and having to take care of a tiny human and the house all day while Chenle was off at work. And he doesn’t just want one, he wants two more.
“God, Lele, at least wait until Jiali can sleep on her own,” You huffed, trying not to be too loud. You had finally managed to get your daughter to sleep after a particularly fussy day, and if she woke up now, you were pretty sure you’d start crying too.
“But why not?” He asked, sitting down. “Don’t you want to give Jiali brothers and sisters to grow up with?”
“I do,” You answered, trying to ignore the throbbing in your head. “But I’m too tired to handle another pregnancy right now. It’s way too much, Chenle.”
Chenle sighed, resting his face on his chin. “It can’t be that hard—”
“Are you joking?” You snapped, standing up, “I’m awake in the morning to make you breakfast and feed Jiali. Once you’re off, I have to make the bed, change her diapers, clean the floors and the bathroom. I have to make sure Jiali isn’t getting into trouble and figure out why she’s crying—and she cries so much, Chenle! I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since before she was born. I barely have time to take care of myself, much less another baby. I make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and tend to the garden, and bathe her when she gets dirty, and—”
“Y/N, I think you should—”
“I can’t handle another baby!” You cried, “I can’t, I won’t!”
A high pitched wail rang from the nursery, and all the fight you had in you drained instantly. You hadn’t realized how loud you were being.
“I’ll be right back,” You murmured, voice breaking. Before you could walk towards the nursery, a gentle hand on your wrist pulled you back. Chenle’s gaze had softened, cupping your cheek and wiping at a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.
“No, I’ll go,” He said quietly. “You go clean yourself up. Take a nap, I’ll make sure she gets back to sleep."
You didn't have it in you to argue.
About an hour later, he stepped into the bedroom, where you were curled up on the bed. You weren't asleep. He sat down on the other side of the bed, caressing your arm.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, bowing his head. "I wasn't thinking straight. I just got so excited at the thought of us finally having a family, I forgot to think about how you were doing. If you don't want anymore kids—"
"Lele," You murmured, "Of course I want to keep building our family. But I need time. I'm always so tired now. Let's wait until Jiali is off to school and then try for another one. I'm begging you."
He leaned over you, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Whatever works best for you," He answered.
You kept your promise. Once Jiali was off to preschool, you got pregnant a few months later. By the beginning of next year, you had a baby boy—Yanlin.
This time, Chenle was more mindful of your wellbeing. He came home from work earlier, helped out around the house, told you to go out with the girls every now and then.
Over the years, you had one last child, a girl named Mei. The kids were more than a few handfuls, but the two of you managed.
Things were by no means easy. There were nights when Chenle decided to sleep on the couch because of a disagreement that had grown into something bigger. Insecurities about your body that grew into jealousy of his secretary, who was younger, more beautiful. Issues with the in laws as the both of you had problems setting solid boundaries.
But at the end of the day, he was your everything. This life you'd built for yourself made it all worth fighting for. You saw it when he tossed Mei up into the air, catching her as she giggled, "Again, daddy, do it again!"
Or when he talked to Jiali about the family business, how if she wanted, he'd teach her everything. When he helped Yanlin get back to sleep after he'd had a nightmare, singing him to sleep with that soft, gentle voice of his. When he looked at you from across the dinner table, years of domesticity and love growing into all of this.
Chenle was your home, the father of your children, a pillar you leaned on when things got difficult. You were the same to him. No argument could take that away.
The kids grew up and went to college. Much to your father in law's dismay, Yanlin didn't care much about the family business, while Jiali did—he hated how Chenle encouraged them to do what they wanted instead of pushing the status quo.
Times were changing. More and more women went to college, and you wanted for your daughters what you yourself weren't allowed to have: a good education, a professional career.
Since time flies like birds migrating for the winter, soon all of the kids were grown up, and you and Chenle were left in an empty house. By then, the two of you had started to change, too. Gray hairs started sprouting from your heads. Your backs started to hurt with more frequency. Your faces were starting to sag.
And still, you loved each other. You found new things to do with this new freedom. You read more books, spent more time in the garden. Chenle started singing around the house more, something he didn't even realize he was doing.
When you turned fifty, Chenle took you on vacation to Malta, and Chenle decided to officially announce his retirement, handing the business to your oldest. From here on out, the two of you had time to simply do whatever you wished. Chenle had saved a lot of money over the years, allowing the two of you to live comfortably.
Your kids married, and had kids of their own, and the two of you spoiled as much as you could. You'd bake cookies with your grandkids and spend the holidays telling them stories of your youth. Their favorite story was how you met their grandfather, and you fluffed the story up to make them laugh.
"He was the handsomest man I'd ever seen," You told him, "Tall, sweet, funny, the best shincracker I'd ever danced with."
"What's a shincracker?" One of your grandkids asked. You blinked, before letting out a fake sob, raising your head up.
"I'm so old," You wailed, the kids giggling at your theatrics. When you looked down, you smiled. "In my day, that's what you called someone who danced very well."
The four of them ohhh-ed in unison, and someone in the kitchen doorway laughed. "So, I was the best shincracker you'd ever danced with, huh?"
"Honey, I've told you that a million times!"
He walked over to you, patting the heads of your grandkids as he passed them. "Your grandma looked so surprised when I asked her to dance," He said to the children, "But she was the prettiest dame there that night, I couldn't not dance with her."
"What's a dame?"
Chenle stared at you, eyes wide. He lowered his head. "God, we're old!"
Now, most of your grandkids have grown up, and barely have time to visit. But you have the photographs hung up on the wall, of past birthdays, holiday parties, of your wedding.
They work to help you remember. But now, Chenle can't even get out of bed to look at them.
There was an old man who'd broken down in front of you, once. He'd been having trouble remembering where things were, like his keys and his glasses. Initially, it didn't worry you, since you'd been having similar issues. You only started to worry when one night at dinner, you brought up the fact that Mei had called to ask the two of you to dinner next week. He'd looked confused, and stared at you like you were from outer space.
"Who's Mei?"
You scheduled a doctor's appointment the very next day. It took about two months for everything to reach the same conclusion: early dementia. Chenle had gotten very quiet as the doctor handed you some pamphlets on treatments and the different stages. The whole drive home, he said nothing.
It was only once you got home that he sat down on the bed and crumbled to pieces. You walked over to him, and caressed his hair when he pressed his face into your stomach.
"I don't want to forget," He sobbed, "I don't want to."
He tried to fight it. Once the family knew, everyone started visiting more frequently. In the beginning, he could remember your grandchildren's names. Jobs and school were a bit difficult but there were eleven of them—it was hard for you, too.
On the occasion he did forget someone, it frustrated him. He'd have to excuse himself from the table for a few minutes, and the energy in the dining room would change completely. Suddenly everyone was aware of the ticking clock, and your family was starting to crumble.
You wanted desperately to hold it together, to super glue it and force it back into place. But so many things were out of your control, on top of Chenle's diagnosis. Mei was going through a divorce. Your youngest grandson, Lijie, was having behavioral problems and Yanlin looked to you for advice.
Chenle tried to hold on. You watched your husband pore endlessly over the family photos, trying to place names to the faces. He remembered his parents. He started to ask you where they were. You didn't know how to tell them they'd passed over thirty years ago.
He wandered through the house like he was lost, and you knew he was trapped somewhere in his mind, everything disintegrating slowly around him. Sometimes he'd come up to you and give you a kiss.
"I've been looking everywhere for you," He murmured.
Some days were better than others. He would sing old songs from your youth, and try to dance with you in the kitchen. You both still remembered the steps but were too stiff and slow to do them properly.
Eventually, one of your grandkids came to live with you. Daiyu had studied to become a nurse, and now, Chenle needed around the clock care. It was simply too risky for him to be left alone. He'd try to go outside, saying that he was late for a meeting, or that Jeno—who had passed two years before his diagnosis—had invited him to his house to watch the game.
He forgot how to hold a spoon, how to walk properly. After four years, he became bedridden, speaking in slow, short sentences. You'd read to him after lunch, from books you'd acquired over the years. He seemed to enjoy one book the most: a battered old copy of a book about the Amazon rainforest.
You knew your Lele was in there somewhere. You could see it when Jiali and her husband came to visit, and he asked her about the secret handshake the two of them had even though he couldn't remember her name. When you reached for his hand, he would press a kiss to yours, unsure as to why he was doing it. And when you walked past the bedroom, sometimes you could hear him humming to himself—a lively, fast tempo song that a boy had once asked a girl to dance to, lifetimes ago.
There was a man named Zhong Chenle, once. He was good at dancing and a lovely singer, he was a loving father and husband. He's gone now. In his place is someone who has his face, but isn't really him. He can't remember how to speak. When you read to him, his lips move, but no sounds come out. His eyes drift across the room, looking for things he doesn't know the name of. His hands are gnarled and his fingers twitch, itching to do something, anything, but unsure of how to do it.
The last time you spoke to your Chenle had been three years prior.
"Do I know you?" He asked, voice small. You smiled at him, biting back tears. No matter how many times he asks you this question, it hurts every time. You'd learned to play along with it. Telling him the truth would only scare him, confuse him further.
"My name is Y/N," You told him, "I'm an old friend. We used to go out dancing together."
His eyes were void of anything until a second later, recognition pooled into them.
"Y/N," He sounded out slowly, "We should—we should go dance again someday."
"Someday," You agreed, nodding, "But now we have to wait until you're better."
"Until I'm better," He answered with a smile, dimples making your heart crack even further.
All he—and you—could do now was wait for the end. Truthfully, you've made peace with it. You'd be heartbroken to see him go but happy to see him finally rest. He started his decline seven years ago, and the past five have been spent like this. It's sad enough to see him in this way, to watch Daiyu try to feed him when he barely even remembers how to eat anymore. A shell of who he once was, a living ghost.
The family knew, old friends knew. That was all that mattered to you. That there had been a man named Zhong Chenle once, who wasn't scattered in the wind.
Once. Long, long ago. It's all just a burning memory, now.
#nct dream x reader#zhong chenle x reader#kwritersworldnet#nct angst#chenle angst#kpop angst#kpop au#nct au#nct dream angst#chenle x reader#nct scenarios#kpop scenarios#my writing
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Familiar Cerulean Eyes Part 2
Not sure if that name is going to stick but it’s what I’ve got for now. Also thank you so much? The reactions I got for part one literally made me want to cry. I’ve never posted my writings because I didn’t think that I would get any kind of response. When we hit 7 notes in the first hour I was beyond ecstatic and I thought that that would be it. But 150 notes later and I couldn’t wait to post part 2. Let me know what y’all think of this. I don’t know if I will get a part 3 out as quickly but I do plan to work on it.
Click here for full list of other parts. Part 3
Slow burn, no smut in this part but maybe a spicy moment.
Taglist: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac
Word Count: Just over 3 k
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Dabi had left you alone for long enough to go get food that you had already scoured his entire room, searching for any way to escape. You had learned that even though the window looked like it could open at some point, it had been sealed shut somehow and you didn’t have the strength to open it. Other than the window, there were two doors in the room. One leading to a small bathroom complete with a tub/shower combo, the other being the door that lead out of the room but was unfortunately locked when Dabi left.
As for the room itself, all it held was a queen sized bed, well really it was a mattress on top of a box spring, with holes in the blankets and sheets that looked like burn marks and a singular pillow that looked like he had owned it for years it was so flat. A dresser that was scarce in the amount of clothing it had in it, seemingly like majority of it was dirty in the corner on the floor next to but not in the torn up laundry hamper, almost all of it black or a shade resembling. The black chair that sat in the opposite corner of the bed that again looked like it had seen better days. Oh and a cigarette tray that was filled to the brim and a fan that was perched on top of his dresser pointing towards the bed. That was about it. The walls were bare other than scorch marks and burns here and there, the blinds were dusty, and the wooden floor was cold and scratched like it had been well worn for several years, burn marks from stray cigarettes being put out.
The Omega in you hated it, they wanted to start cleaning and organizing to find warm cozy things to build a comfort nest out of. The rational part of you saw it as what it was, a hideout for a villain. Not a place to get comfy in. Still you couldn’t sit here and wait. It was driving you nuts.
You had just finished picking up the discarded cigarettes on the floor into a nice neat pile on his dresser and was moving towards putting his dirty laundry into the hamper when Dabi returned. Cautiously opening the door to see what you were doing, he slipped in before shutting it and locking it behind him, takeout food in his hands.
“Look at you, being a perfect little housewife.” The smirk that was ever present on his face was bigger than normal and you immediately dropped the t-shirt that you had been staring at, turning and looking at him, your cheeks heating up at being caught.
He glanced at the bloodied shirt on the floor that was covered in soot and burn marks like the rest of his clothes and he shrugged, placing the food down on the counter before turning to you.
“Part of the job babe.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms and pulling in on your self again. You couldn’t help the fact that your omega blushed at the nickname. You had never been spoken to like that. Ever. Even given the context you couldn’t help but squirm.
The smell of food made you take a step towards him though. You were starving and looking at what he had brought had your mouth watering. He had two different ramen bowls and a rice bowl to go with it. It looked like heaven. Not to mention a whole bag of other snacks to eat as well. You grabbed a water bottle from the bag, forgetting just how thirsty you were as you quickly drank almost half of the bottle in one swoop, hungrily looking between all the food.
“Take your pick princess, I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.” He gave you space to choose through everything, electing to drop back into his chair on the other side of the room, picking up the shirt you had dropped and tossing it into the hamper like he had just learned a new trick.
You quickly choose your preferred out of the options of ramen, leaving the snack bag alone for later. You might need it. Choosing to sit on the floor, against the bed rather than the bed itself so that you had a sturdy surface to put your food, you internally thanked yourself for picking up all the cigarettes.
You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look up as you quietly ate the food. It was a couple minutes before he got up and grabbed his own food, choosing instead to sit on the floor next to you than to return to his chair. His legs spread out in front of him, showing you just how long they were, how much bigger than you he was. Your mouth was watering from not just the food anymore, his scent enveloping you from being this close. You briefly thought that he was probably pumping it out more just to get a reaction from you, but you refused to show it. You weren’t going to play this alpha’s game. You just needed to keep a level head until you could escape. You were just going to ignore him, just enough to stay on his good side, but not to attract further attention from him. You could do that, you had been playing a similar game for years.
“So are you going to tell me your name..? Unless you just want me to keep calling you princess?” You accidentally dropped a rice ball into your ramen, the hot broth splashing onto your hand causing you to flinch at the burn.
Dabi let out a soft hum, setting down his bowl and taking yours away before you could even protest. He took your hand into his own, wiping off the broth gently with a clean napkin that he had gotten from the takeout bag and examining the burn. You couldn’t help but watch him, entranced but how gentle he was being. It was hard to connect the fact that this man, this alpha, was a known murderer. He killed people. He was a known League of Villains member, and yet here you were, letting him kiss your hand like he was a crowned prince in a fairy tale waiting to whisk you away to a better life, his cerulean eyes latched onto your own, a teasing expression.
Your face was redder than it has ever been in your life, yanking your hand away from his grasp, clutching it against your chest like he burned you. What were you thinking? Why was he getting under you skin so easily? Sure, you didn’t have a lot of experience with alphas other than the Todoroki’s, and those that visited the house, but none of them acted like this! You scooted away from the alpha, trying to block the scent of him from your brain, trying to calm down. You weren’t sure why you were so flustered but you needed to breathe to get out of this situation and fast.
“C-can I take a shower?” You weren’t sure why you even asked. Maybe you were scared he wouldn’t let you or that he would try to follow you into the bathroom. But neither fear was necessary as he nodded his head towards the bathroom door, his eyes watching your every movement like a wild cat, a deep chuckle reverberating through the air.
“Do you want me to join you?”
“No thanks!” You jumped up and threw yourself into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, trying to calm yourself. You turned around, locking the bathroom door, hearing the alpha shuffle on the other side of it. He didn’t try the door knob though and you relaxed slightly, turning towards the rest of the bathroom you turned on the shower faucet, hesitating only a minute before stripping out of your soot covered clothes that you are noticing were definitely ruined.
You stepped into the shower, pulling closed the curtain just enough to not get water on the floor but enough that you could see the door still just in case. The only soap in the shower was a cheap alpha brand. You didn’t care at this point though. You just needed to be clean after everything that has happened. Maybe you could pretend it was Shoto or some other alpha that you were going to smell like. Maybe.. just maybe you could pretend it was Touya’s scent.
You huffed at your own stupidity. Why do you always think of him when you’re upset? He can’t just magically save you. He isn’t coming back. You don’t come back from that. You felt yourself slip down into a seated position, pulling your knees to your chest, your eyes going fuzzy as you tried to blink through the tears that suddenly threatened to spill out.
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“Y/N! Touya! Get back here!” You giggled as you heard Fuyumi’s voice ring out behind you, Touya’s bandaged fingers wrapped around your wrist pulling you behind him as he ran, his laughter spilling out. It was a Saturday, Endevor had patrol and instead of working on his training, Touya had decided to steal you away from his younger sister’s grasp.
The two of you had ran all the way through the garden in the back of the house, and hid behind a cluster of cherry blossom trees that were in full bloom. At the time you think you must have been 11 or so, him just a little bit older. He had pulled you down beside him onto the grass and covered your mouth with his hand to hid your giggles, holding a finger up to signal you to be quiet. You could hear Fuyumi run by, calling out your names searching for you both. Grumbling how it wasn’t fair that he took you while you were both playing princesses.
He finally let go of your face, a smile crossing his own as he looked at you’re winded, excited expression. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned over and kissed your cheek, just to see you blush.
“Touya!” You covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks glow red.
“What? Aren’t princes supposed to kiss the princess? Isn’t that the whole point? To bond with a pretty princess?”
“You think I’m pretty?” You couldn’t help but look up into his eyes, they were the prettiest things you had ever seen. The color of turquoise, perfect gem stones.
“I think you’re the prettiest.”
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“Princess? Are you okay?” You heard a soft knock on the bathroom, barely audible over the sound of the water streaming down onto your body. You realized your scent had gone sour, the sadness creeping in without your permission. You needed to keep a lid on things. You turned off the water, and grabbed what seemed to be a clean towel, wrapping yourself in it, grabbing your dirty and tattered clothes to put them on.
“I put clean clothes outside the door if you want them.” Pausing, you frowned. Clean clothes would be nice. You hated being dirty. You took a deep breath, unlocking the door and waiting a second before opening it just enough to quickly grab the clothes before shutting it again, looking at what was offered.
A pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie, very similar to what he was wearing. Cautiously you took a whiff of the clothes, relaxing when you mostly smelled the laundry detergent over his scent. You didn’t want to be scented by him more than necessary. Just in case Shoto tracked you down. You wanted him to be able to recognize you. Not that this scent proof room would allow it.
You already smelled like the alpha’s soap though, quipped your Omega, and it smelled good.
You slipped the clothes on, ignoring your omega, all of it being way too baggy on you, especially the sweatpants, which you rolled up at the bottom so not to trip. The tie to tighten them around your waist was missing and you were pretty sure you were going to have to hold them up. Frowning at your clothes on the floor, even your bra and panties had been ruined. You didn’t know what to do with them, so you scooped them up in your arms and shuffled out of the bathroom, hugging them lightly.
You heard a low whistle and saw Dabi laying with his back on the bed, messing with a phone he held above him that you assumed was a burner, the mess from your meal was cleaned up and nowhere to be found, save for the bag of snacks that you had left. One of his legs bent and with his foot on the floor, the other up on the mattress. His eyes had abandoned the screen in front of him and were trained on your swallowed form in his clothes. He couldn’t help but think how good you looked wearing his stuff, and after taking a whiff of the air he appreciated the fact that you smelled somewhat like him now, and not like that Todoroki brat. He made a mental note that you didn’t need your own clothes. You could just wear his all the time. Other than the fact that you looked uncomfortable holding up the sweat pants with one hand.
You fumbled with the bundle of clothes in your arms looking around the room for a place to settle. You wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until this was all over. But he was in the bed..
“Just toss your clothes in with mine, I’ll take care of them later.”
“No.” You were tired, you no longer wanted to deal with this alpha. You just wanted a nap, and a nest made out of your own things.
His eye brows lifted a look of intrigue settling across his expression. He sat up, eyes watching you. “No?”
You squirmed under his gaze, considering retreating to the bathroom where you could at least lock the door and be alone, but the bathroom was so small that if you wanted to lay down you would have to be in the bathtub. Which was already wet. You stood there awkwardly trying to decide which of the two you wanted to deal with more, a flirty psychotic killer, or a wet bathtub nest.
“Come here” Apparently the flirty psychotic killer won that one as before you even noticed it you were standing in front of him, him still sitting on the bed, both his feet on the ground now, legs spread to accommodate you, surrounded in his scent. Something about him had your omega waging her tail practically begging you to do things you would never even consider.
He reached his hand up like he was going to grab your face causing you to flinch, but instead his hand gripped one side of the pull tie for the hoodie, wrapping it around his wrist before yanking it harshly, pulling you forward against him slightly and pulling the tie all the way out of the hood.
You reached up and pressed your hands onto his shoulders, dropping your bundle of clothes to the floor, to brace yourself, his eyes lighting up with amusement at your reaction. You wanted to pull away, but your omega refused. You were a deer trapped in headlights.
His lidded eyes stayed on yours as his right hand that was holding the tie, slowly drifted down your body, his left sneaking out and gripping your hip to hold you in place. His right hand finally reached your hip, curving around the front of you, removing the waistband from your grasp causing your face to turn bright red, only for him to slip the end of the tie into the hold of the waistband, slowly sneaking his fingers around your waist, feeding the tie through, until finally it poked out the other hole in the front. He returned his left hand to your hip, his right gripping both ends of the tie, pausing to smirk widely at you, flashing his tongue ring before yanking harshly, pulling the waistband tight around your waist and effectively pulling you flush against him at the hip, nose to nose, your face tilted down just slightly too match eyes with him.
His scent was intoxicating. You were completely enveloped in it, and your omega was begging for him to scent you so it never left. And he was waiting for you to ask him oh so patiently. He could smell what he was doing to you, making him laugh internally that he was going to get his way quicker than he thought. Your omega reasoned that he was a strong and capable alpha. He had been nothing but nice to you since you woke up and he wasn’t forcing himself onto you like most of the alphas you had meet previously. He was being so kind and gentle and he smelled so damn good. Why can’t you just…
Because he’s a murderer? He kidnapped you? You have an Alpha? Oh and he’s a murderer!
You pulled yourself out of his grasp, releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking the tie out of his hand, he let the rope slide through his fingers, not making a move to stop you from leaving his presence, knowing that you would be back. You turned away, tying it into a bow snuggly against your waist so that the sweat pants stayed up on their own now. You took several calming deep breathes, trying to get your brain back in order. Not noticing when he reached down and snatched your panties off the floor, stuffing them into his pocket for later.
“Y/N” You barely whispered out. Your omega was still reaching out to him, trying to push you back into his arms. But you wouldn’t listen. Your brain was frazzled and you felt like the world was spinning.
“Hmm?” The soft hum behind you, made you shiver, wondering if he was going to reach out and touch you again. You wanted him to. God you wanted him to. He didn’t though. Just leaned back on the bed, using his hands to prop himself up, enjoying the view of your backside as the inner turmoil raged in your head.
You snapped yourself out of it, clenching your fists as you crossed the room to the chair in the corner, curling up on it deciding it was as good a place as any to sleep. A soft mumble leaving your lips once more as you pulled the hood up and over your face, covering it completely from his sight other than the tip of your nose peaking out like a little mouse, the red of your blush noticeable from across the room. “My name… it’s Y/N.”
#bnah omegaverse#alpha dabi#omega reader#bnha#mha omegaverse#dabi is a todoroki#dabi is touya#dabi#dabi x y/n#dabi x female reader#dabi x reader#dabi x you
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mixtape | track thirteen
| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |
Sean died in January, and it was cold. That much Grayson remembered. The funeral was fuzzy apart from a few very vivid memories, including one of sitting outside on a bench, the wind cutting through his slacks and freezing his legs. His arms were so cold he couldn’t even feel the wind on them through the numbness, seeing that his suit jacket was wrapped around Cameron’s shoulders. He’d borrowed one of his dad’s ties - it was a tacky pattern but subtle in color. Sean had worn it to the twin’s 8th grade night for football when he’d walked them proudly across the field with the biggest smile on his face. He shivered. But it was still better than being inside, looking at the casket that had his dad but not his dad inside.
That suit was gone. He hadn’t been able to look at it after that day, so he’d donated it, despite his mother’s qualms that he may need a nice suit again someday.
That day was coming much quicker than he expected, and that’s how he found himself in the back of a department store sifting through racks of jackets. But there was one bright spot in the scenario, and she was looking through ties on a table to his left.
Indy held one up with a soft smile, the most she’d been able to offer him in the last day.
“She liked blue.”
Grayson could only nod, the knot in his throat stealing his voice. He took the tie, running his thumb over the silky fabric. They were quiet as they went through and found him a few suit options to try on. Indy had to hold them up high so nothing dragged the ground as they headed to the fitting rooms.
She sat in a hard plastic chair outside, crossing her legs and fighting her emotions. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. After all, there was no reference, no textbook on the expected emotions of preparing for a funeral of a 15 year old with your ex. If he even was an ex. They’d woken up that morning in bed together after all, with his warm breath on her back, arm around her, hand tucked under her rib cage like it used to be.
And she felt warm. And safe. And guilty.
How could she have a flicker of happiness in a world without Bekah? How could she be grateful, or glad that Grayson was just two doors down fiddling with suit buttons when her being gone was the reason he was there?
It was a blessing, the hold he still seemed to have on her. Because as soon as he walked out her mind went blank for a moment, only able to process him, and his broad shoulders and strong arms that she could still see under his jacket.
“This is the best of the three. What do you think?”
It took her a minute to find her words. “Yeah, it looks nice. Very… funeraly.”
Grayson looked in the mirror. “Funeraly. Well, that’s the idea I guess. Works for me.”
He disappeared again, coming back out in his nice pants and crewneck. He looked good, but the look of worry in his eyes made Indy uneasy. She didn’t like when people worried about her.
“Let’s go find you a dress.”
She’d been dreading that part. She wasn’t much of a dress girl most the time, but she wanted to look her best for Bekah. She deserved that. So with a sigh she led Grayson across the store to the women’s section, looking for anything black she could find.
He was patient, offering his hand out to hold any of the options she found to try. She only found three that didn’t look like they were meant for a night out, and Grayson took the spot in the plastic chair while she tried them on. They all fit, but her favorite was the long sleeved number she’d found - tight enough to be flattering, and long enough to be modest and warm, with a long metal zipper that she couldn’t quite get all the way up on her back.
She reached and stretched as far as she could before she huffed in defeat, unsure of whether she should ask him for help. Was that weird? Or was she just making it weird.
After another moment of contemplation, she stepped out in it, stomach fluttering against her will when she saw Grayson look up and catch his breath.
“Can you…” She moved her hair out of the way, revealing her back. He stopped breathing for a second, chair clanging against the wall as he rushed to stand up.
“Yeah, yeah of course.”
He moved behind her quickly, finger delicate against her spine as he moved to the zipper. It sat right below her bra clasp, and he recognized it as the one with a bent hook, a casualty of the dryer that he’d accidentally put it in back in November. He realized he was taking too long and zipped it up quickly, patting it lightly at the top to let her know he was done.
He met her eyes in the mirror, and realized she’d been watching him the whole time.
“Do you think this will be warm enough?”
“We’ll probably be inside most the time, so it should be okay.”
She nodded at him, disappearing back into the dressing room and taking a few deep breaths. Nothing felt real for some reason, and it took all her effort to settle herself, keep herself in the moment she didn’t want to be in. She stripped out of the dress quickly and slid it back on the hanger. It wasn’t worth the argument when Grayson held his hand out for it when they headed towards the counter. With her inability to work shifts her bank account was grateful for his that seemed to always be overflowing. Surely a $50 dress wouldn’t break the bank, but she still thanked him when he swiped his card.
They walked into the parking lot in silence, and she climbed into the truck when Grayson pulled the door open for her. He sat the bags in the backseat once he climbed in, starting it up and cranking the heat up. The air was still cold, cold enough for Indy to shove her hands under her thighs in a bid to keep them warm. Grayson frowned and grabbed his jacket from the back, passing it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, laying it over her lap and smoothing out the wrinkles. She was rigid in her seat, especially when Gray reached his hand over to the back of hers so he could back out of the parking space. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath till both his hands were back on his side of the console.
She hated it. Hated feeling like he was watching, waiting for her to fall apart at any given moment. But she loved it too, because if he was there to look at her with pity it meant he was there. Her mind was exhausted with the constant battle of trying to put a word to her emotions, to guide them into whatever box they were supposed to be in.
To Grayson, it just looked like she was numb. Her eyes were trained on the New Jersey roads every time he glanced over to her, either out the windshield or through the passenger window. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to know what she was feeling, wanted to grovel on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he held his tongue and continued down the road, 10 under the speed limit just to buy a few more extra minutes with her close enough to reach. He wasn’t sure what would happen when they got to the house. If she wanted to go upstairs, to avoid him until the funeral, he’d understand. He’d let her, even if it hurt. He deserved that. He’d sit at the bottom of the stairs and wait, and listen, and hope she didn’t need him but also hope she did.
The two played their own games of tug-o-war, parallel to each other until they made it to the house. Ethan was on the porch with Gizmo’s cage in his hands, holding it up and talking to her as they walked in.
“See Giz? It’s too fucking cold out here.”
“Brrr,” Gizmo squawked.
“Yeah, fuckin brrr. So you gotta stop screaming to come outside before Ma loses her mind.”
“You sure you aren’t the one losing your mind?” Grayson asked with a smirk aimed towards his brother.
“Outside!” Gizmo yelled and Ethan clenched his fists.
“Did you all find outfits?” Ethan asked to distract himself, looking at Grayson’s empty hands.
“Shit, yeah I left them in the truck though. I’ll grab em Dee, go get warm.”
Indy nodded and walked inside slowly, taking her shoes off and sitting them neatly by the door. She walked to the living room, sitting down carefully on the couch with her eyes trained on the woods. Even the squirrels seemed to be grieving, moving slow through the grass at the tree line. She watched them anyways, envied their oblivion of all the tragedy of the world as Grayson hung up their clothes in the coat closet and watched her from the foyer.
Her shoulders were slumped forward, and it pained him to see her literally curled in on herself in a way that he hadn’t seen before. He ran through a million different things he could say, but none of them seemed good enough. There were never words for times like these, and he knew that. Sometimes, it was better to just sit in silence. So he gave it to her for a few minutes longer, disappearing to the other room where his conversation wouldn’t be overheard.
When he reappeared, Indy was watching a robin, feathers bright red against the dreary gray of the sky outside by the bird feeder. He stepped into her gaze, offering her a soft smile.
“C’mon. Let’s get you some warm clothes and get outta here for a little while, hmm?”
“Where are we going?” Her tone was flat, and it made his chest feel tight.
“You’ll see. Just trust me.”
Those words hung heavy in Indiana’s mind as she followed him upstairs, let him pass her an old pair of boots that were too big for her and his thickest jacket to fight off the cold snap that seemed to follow the warm air that had brought the thunderstorms.
Just trust me
She did. Or at least, she wanted to, and she willfully climbed back into the passenger seat of the truck, let him drive them down the road on the route that was familiar now. They made it all the way to the tiny homes without seeing another car. Indy felt like the universe was sad with her somehow, and she was grateful for it. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing someone smile as if the world was still the same happy place it used to be.
She blindly followed Grayson until she realized they were going around the house instead of inside of it.
“Where are we going?” She asked again. Her voice echoed off the trees.
He simply held out his hand. She took it without question, ignoring the tirade of contradicting emotions it stirred in her gut. He still had his callous where his pinky met his palm, but it was softer than usual against her skin.
They walked through the trees slowly until they reached the cliff that Indy recognized from the first time she’d been out to Jersey. It felt like lifetimes ago that she’d been there, but the water still flowed and she still clung to Grayson’s arm the closer they got to the edge.
“Come sit over here,” he coaxed, leading her towards the middle and helping her sit down slowly. Once she was settled he sat down beside her, ignoring the cold that seeped through his pants from the ground below him. He could see his breath in front of him, but he kept his eyes on the water running far below his feet.
“Gray.”
He tried to ignore the way his heart sung - she said his name better than anyone.
“Why are we here?” She asked.
He was quiet for a moment, and he picked at his fingernails before he spoke.
“I used to come out here a lot when I was younger and got overwhelmed. I don’t like being around people when I need to feel something, you know? Well, I can only be around certain people anyways.”
The fact that Indy seemed to be one of those people wasn’t lost on her as she listened to him.
“I just thought coming out here might help.”
“Me or you?”
“What?”
“Is it supposed to help me or you?”
“I was hoping both,” Grayson said.
To his surprise, Indy chuckled under her breath and shook her head.
“Well, I’m fine. I’ve done this before after all. Should be pretty good at having people I love die on me by now.”
Grayson couldn’t find the words for a response, and his cheeks flushed from her tone. She’d never been so short with him before, and he felt embarrassed to think that somehow he’d be the one who could help her when it seemed no one else could. But he swallowed hard and looked over to her.
“I’m not fine. And you knew her longer than I did. And I know something about losing people too. That doesn’t mean it ever gets any easier.”
Something in his words seemed to pull her out of her defensiveness, and she took in a shaky breath, eyes brimmed with tears.
“Sorry.”
“S’okay. You can have a redo, if you want,” he teased, bumping her shoulder gently just to see her try to smile.
“I know you get it, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”
“Nobody knows how to do this Dee. No one knows how to lose a 15 year old that was supposed to be here for a lot longer than she was,” Grayson said, clearing his throat when it tightened. Indy sniffled and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. She was quiet for a moment and they listened to the wind rustle the trees until she spoke again.
“Her mom wants me to write her eulogy.”
“Fuck, Indy.”
“I’ve never done one before. Charlie did mom’s.”
“Do you want to do it?”
“I want her to have one,” Indy sighed, picking at the grass. “A good one though. Not the one that the preacher does where they pretend like they knew her when they really didn’t.”
Grayson reached for her hand and waited for her to look up at him.
“Maybe Charlie can help. I called her, when we got back to the house. She’s flying out tomorrow.”
Indy froze, then turned so quickly that Grayson put a hand on her hip to keep her steady on the cliff’s edge.
“Really? She’s coming?”
Grayson nodded. “I know that things are… hard, with us right now. And I know that things are always better for me when Ethan is around so I figured it couldn’t hurt. I think her flight comes in at -”
Before he could finish Indy threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped her up as best he could without pulling her over the edge, scooting them back slightly to keep her safe as he held her as tightly as he could through all their layers.
“Thank you,” she whispered over the trees. She couldn’t find any other words to express what it meant to her, so she left it at that and breathed him in in secret while he held her. He turned his head to press a kiss to her temple but stopped himself, squeezing her tighter instead before they untangled.
She pondered her next question for a moment, then decided she truly had nothing left to lose.
“Can we stay out here tonight? At the house.”
Grayson paused for a minute, stopping himself from immediately saying yes, reminding himself not to take advantage.
“You wanna stay at the tiny house?”
She nodded, fingers going back to the grass, and she kicked her legs so the heels of her boots bounced slightly off the rocks.
“The funeral is tomorrow. I need to write the eulogy, and I don’t want a bunch of people around while I do that.”
Silence hung heavy until he gained the confidence to ask.
“Am I… one of the people that can be around?”
For the first time in a long time, Indy smiled.
“Did you think I was gonna kick you out of your house?”
Grayson chuckled and shook his head.
“I mean you did break my heart, so it would be fair though.”
He froze.
Indy laughed so hard it bounced off the trees, made a few birds take off on the other side of the water.
“I’m fucking kidding,” she said, nudging his shoulder so he’d let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Jesus fuck Indy, don’t do that! Too soon!” He huffed, but he was laughing too, heart light as he saw the first glimpse of the girl he’d fallen in love with since he’d gotten home. It was easier to breathe with her around, even in spite of everything else going on. He looked at her, tried to take her in, but he stopped short with a frown when she tried to hide a shiver.
“You’re cold.”
“Just a little,” she mused.
“Ma is making dinner, we’ll go home, eat, pack some stuff then come back out here.” Indy only nodded and let him help her to her feet. She held onto his arm until they were off the cliff, and after that too. Over top of his jacket, she traced 333 on his bicep, eyes on his tattoo that was barely visible under his growing hair. She wondered if he’d gotten any more while he was in LA.
She wondered a lot about what he’d done while he was in LA, whether she wanted to or not. But she wanted to know if he’d been up every night thinking about her. If he’d cried in the shower as many times as she did.
She wondered if he’d hurt.
And she wondered how much she would hurt when he decided it was time to go back. Her mind was screaming as she clung to him, wary that she wasn’t keeping him at an arm's length like she had swore she would.
Her heart drowned it out, singing quietly deep within her at the familiar firmness of his muscles under her hand, the warmth of him beside her.
She’d take whatever hell was sure to follow with open arms if it meant she could be back in his, even for a little while.
Grayson played Cudi on the way back to Lisa’s and tried to hide his smile when he heard Indy singing along quietly beside him. He used the time to think of his pitch to Ethan, his plan for how they could split time on each coast, or even manage most of it from offices in New York. It wasn’t his top priority - that was getting Indy through the funeral. But he couldn’t hold off for long.
The house was warm when they arrived in more ways than one - cozy and filled with the smell of spaghetti that had Indy’s mouth watering for the first time in days. Grayson breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her fill her bowl, happy to see her appetite had returned.
Still, when they sat around the table, Ethan and Lisa were cautious to start a conversation, worried they’d say something that could trigger the wrong emotions. After listening to the scrapes of forks against porcelain for too many minutes, Indy cleared her throat.
“I think we should do something a little different tonight. Something to help everyone’s spirits.”
Everyone breathed.
“Yeah?” Grayson said.
“I say we eat on the couch and watch Emperor’s New Groove in true Bekah fashion,” she proposed, standing with her bowl. No one questioned her - they simply followed into the living room with their dinner in hand.
They laughed at all the right times during the movie, and the world was okay for just a minute. Indy still ached deep within herself, guilt punctuating each smile she let creep up, but she fought it like she’d learned to after Nicole had died.
Grayson was asleep before Kuzco made it back to the castle, exhaustion catching up with him quickly. He was heavy against Indy when he leaned onto her, one arm going over her waist. She felt Ethan’s eyes on the two of them but she ignored it until he came closer, speaking in a whisper.
“Charlie’s flight gets in around 7, I’ll go get her so you all have time to get some sleep,” he offered.
“Thanks E. And thanks for coming with him.”
“Of course. And hey, anything you need Inds. Literally anything, just tell me. We’re all here for you.”
She bit her lip and looked down at Grayson.
“Is he okay?” She asked.
Ethan gave her a small smile.
“This is gonna sound fucked up, considering what we're all doing tomorrow, but… this is the best I’ve seen him since we left actually. I mean, he feels like shit for not being here for, well for either of you. He just wants to take care of you as best he can.”
“He’s always been pretty good at doing that,” she murmured, brushing some of Grayson’s hair back from his forehead. He stirred, curling up closer to her.
“Get some sleep Indy. Love yah,” Ethan said, leaning over and giving her a peck on the top of the head.
She sat with Grayson for a bit longer, let him rest until her arm went fully numb and she knew she’d fall asleep with him unless she got up.
She coaxed him up and made him give her the keys, let him climb in the passenger seat as she packed up a bag of pajamas and their clothes for the morning. He was asleep against the window by the time she got back in the cab, and she was happy to let him sleep. She figured he’d be happy to climb into bed when they got to the tiny homes, but he shook himself awake on the walk inside, cranking the heat up once they cleared the threshold.
“I’m okay bub, you can sleep.”
“You’re not gonna sleep?” He said instead of conceding.
“I need to write the eulogy.”
His eyes saddened in understanding, and then he was rummaging through the bag for the paper he knew she’d packed. He sat it down on the small table and then returned to the kitchen.
Indy watched him as he pulled two mugs down from the cabinets, the clay ones with tiny “I” and “G”’s stamped into the speckled surface. They’d found them at the craft fair they’d stumbled across back in November and picked them up, but Indy realized it was the first time they’d used them as Grayson made them a cup each.
“Gray.”
“What do you need,” he asked quietly.
“Um… space, I think. Just so I can think clearly for a little bit. It’s not anything you did, I promise, it’s jus-”
“Dee, you don’t have to explain. It’s okay. I’ll be upstairs. Take your time, okay?”
She nodded and took the cup he offered with a grateful smile, turning to the table to work.
As much as it went against every instinct in his body, he left her sitting there and moved up the stairs to the loft. Even without the coffee that he downed, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Especially not when he heard Indy’s pen clicking against the table, followed by her sniffles that seemed to amplify in the high ceilings.
He stared at the slats of wood and tapped his fingers against each other as he fought to stay still, give her the space she asked for. He was sure it was just part of the process, and he didn’t want to interrupt her. It could have been minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, but when her sniffles turned to sobs, he didn’t have the willpower anymore.
She heard him coming down the stairs and broke down even further, burying her face in her hands.
“Hey, baby hey it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered. “Take a break.”
She knew she shouldn’t. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn’t want to. But the need for comfort was too strong, and she broke. She stood from the table and walked over towards the small bench seat. Grayson sat first and she didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap. She buried her face in his neck and let the misery have her, let her body shake with the force of her pain and let him absorb it too. She let him hold her, let him love her the way she always thought he had. And it felt good there in his arms. The world was lighter with him there to split the weight. She knew it would crush her when he was gone, but she didn’t care. She wanted to believe Ethan’s words, that Grayson was better there with her, and it was just enough to make her feel like maybe she wasn’t a terrible person for giving in.
Indy fell asleep in Grayson’s arms. He didn’t care whether the eulogy was finished or not - he picked her up and moved slowly across the room, carrying her up the stairs carefully. She woke up just enough to grab for his hand, a silent invitation that he was happy to take. He climbed into bed beside her, let her curl up into him as he set an alarm he didn’t want to wake up for. They slept peacefully despite it all.
The next morning felt like a dream in the worst way. Nothing seemed to really be happening as they woke up and got dressed in black. Grayson looked good in his suit, but that was about the only thing Indiana noticed. He helped zip her dress and put her eulogy in his jacket pocket.
“You ready?” He asked as she fixed the lapels on his jacket.
“No,” she sighed, but she walked out the door anyway. He drove to the house as the sun rose over the Jersey hills. They were quiet, and Indy watched the trees go by, watched the world spin as if nothing was different that day. It made her angry, the same way it had the morning of Nicole’s funeral. But she’d learned that day that the world had no consideration for anyone, no matter what you gave her. So she swallowed it down and kept herself as numb as she could until they pulled into Lisa’s driveway and she remembered where Ethan had gone that morning.
“She’s here,” Indy said, her voice strained. It was the most emotion Grayson had seen out of her that morning, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. But he didn’t get a chance to ask, because Indy was throwing her door open and bolting for the house.
She found what she was looking for in the living room.
Charlie was sitting on the edge of the couch in a black dress, and as soon as she saw Indiana she was on her feet, rushing down the hallway.
Indy was sobbing before she reached her, but Charlie caught her and wrapped her up in the hug that only she could give, and Grayson watched as his girl went to pieces. Charlie held strong like big sisters do, shushing Indiana and coaxing her over to the couch, helping her sit down as she cried into her shoulder.
“You’re okay, hey, you’re alright. Breathe,” she said, but her eyes were on Grayson.
“She’s gone,” Indy blubbered, and Charlie winced at the pain in her voice.
“I know. I know.”
Grayson stood with useless hands in his pockets and tears in the corner of his eyes. He hoped that giving Indy her sister, even just for the day, was enough to help more than he could on his own. When her tears finally stopped, it seemed his plan had worked, even if it was only marginally. She ate a muffin that Lisa had made, and made everyone coffee just the way they liked it to keep her mind and hands busy as everyone got ready to go. She didn’t bother with makeup. It wouldn’t survive the day, that she was sure of. Lisa hovered, made sure everyone had enough to eat before they climbed into the SUV. She waved goodbye from the porch as they pulled away, the funeral home in the GPS.
It was a somber drive. No one even tried for conversation. Charlie sat in the backseat with Indy, privy to the fact that Grayson glanced back at her every few minutes to check in. Each time she was staring out the window again, chewing her cheek.
Indy didn’t know whether the ride was long or short. She didn’t know much of anything other than she felt like she was going to be sick as they parked. Cold air rushed in as Grayson opened her door and helped her down.
“You okay?” He asked, just for her.
She nodded, but they both knew it was a lie.
They passed car after car in the parking lot - almost every space was filled it seemed. Somewhere in her mind, Indy hadn’t processed how many people probably knew Bekah. How many people cared.
Still, she felt alone in the world when she walked inside of the building. The carpet was dark, with swirling patterns of gold and roses. The entryway felt gold, but the parlor to the left was colder. It was marked with a sign.
Bekah Andrea Newcomb. 2pm.
Indiana couldn’t breathe. She reached to her left, finding Grayson where she knew he would be, holding onto his arm like she had in the hospital room.
“We can wait as long as you need Indy. There’s no rush to go in there.”
Her voice failed her and she only nodded. Grayson didn’t move an inch until she did a few minutes later, gathering the strength to step inside. It was fragrant, both in the way an unpleasant place is and in the way a floral shop was. There were enough bouquet arrangements around to fill a house. It was overwhelming, but not so much that Indy didn’t notice the photos. She couldn’t look at them - she’d go to her knees if she let herself even process a single one. So she kept her eyes forward as they walked to the opening of the door on the right.
There was a wide middle aisle, lined with pews on either side full of people.
At the end was Bekah.
Even from afar, she looked cold inside her casket. Indy’s mouth tasted like metal as she forced herself to walk forward. Grayson walked tall beside her, but she could hear him sniffling above her. The Newcomb’s were beside their daughter, and they offered sympathetic smiles as they noticed the pair headed down the aisle. Luckily, they didn’t say anything - they simply stepped away to give them privacy as they made their way towards the casket.
Indy held her breath as she got closer, eyes blurry as she looked down into the casket, her hands finding the cold wood when she reached it.
“Oh,” she whispered. Grayson coughed out a sob, wrapping his arm around Indy’s waist and turning his face into her hair.
Bekah looked like herself, but didn’t. Her hands were folded neatly over her stomach, above her hoodie pockets. It took a moment for Indy to realize what she was wearing. A purple hoodie, her favorite leggings and her thunderbolt headscarf.
Her lungs tightened.
“No, no that’s not right. It’s not right,” she whispered, shaking her head as her hands fluttered above Bekah.
“What? What’s wrong?” Grayson asked.
“Her hoodie, she wanted her blue hoodie, that’s the one she asked for, that’s what we told her they were gonna find her in. She needs her hoodie, Gray she needs her hoodie, get her hoodie.” She couldn’t get a breath through her throat as she choked on her words, looking to Grayson for help. His face was twisted up in pain as he guided her away from the casket.
“It’s okay Indy, it’s okay,” he cried.
“She needs her hoodie,” she sobbed, holding onto his lapel to keep him close to her and to hide her face. All he could do was hold her and cry. No one looked at them and he was grateful as he led her back out of the room, back to where Ethan and Charlie were waiting. It took her a few minutes to catch her breath, even with Charlie’s hand on her shoulder. The eldest Cross put herself between her sister and Grayson, her protective instincts taking over. Grayson couldn’t be angry. He’d step aside happily if it helped Indy.
Her sister seemed to help to calm her down enough to catch her breath after a few minutes.
“Sorry, I don’t know what happened in there,” she whispered eventually, looking over Charlie’s shoulder to find Grayson’s eyes.
“Hey, no apologies today Dee. It’s okay.”
She tried to believe him, tried to accept that it was okay. Something about the sincerity in his voice made her trust him.
“I wanna go look at the pictures,” she said quietly, wiping her eyes and standing up to smooth out her dress. “Get some new images in my head.”
Grayson stepped closer to her, offering her his arm as they headed back to the parlor. Things were calmer as they started to look at all the frames. Grayson smiled at the first picture he saw of Bekah with hair, her afro tall and proud as she stood with a small soccer trophy and a smile so big it closed her eyes.
“She taught me how to do twists once,” Indy smiled, leaning her cheek on Grayson’s bicep. “I sucked at it I’m pretty sure but it was better than nothing.”
“I’ve never seen her with hair before.”
“It made her so sad to lose it every time. She always said it was the worst part.”
“My dad hated losing his. Can’t imagine.”
“Oh my god, look at this one,” Indy smiled, moving to the next frame on the table. It was Bekah in the pool as a toddler, with round pink sunglasses and a purple floaty, with her dad behind her, pushing her along it seemed.
“She always told me she hated water.”
“She did.”
Indy turned to see Martina behind her. Her eyes were puffy but she had a small smile on her face.
“When she was four she fell off a pool float with her cousin, almost drowned. Ever since then she never even put a toe in,” she explained. She stepped up next to Indy, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“Thank you for coming. It means the world to us that you’re here, and that you’re speaking later.”
Grayson realized quickly he wasn’t part of the conversation, and he excused himself with a reassuring look to Indy. Charlie was still where she’d started out in the entryway, eyes darting around nervously. It was obvious she was uncomfortable, and whether it was because she didn’t like funerals or didn’t know anyone, he wasn’t sure. Either way she hid it well when Indy needed her, but she didn’t bother with the facade when Grayson approached.
“She okay?” was his greeting.
“She’s talking to Mrs. Newcomb. She seems alright, considering.”
“Considering,” Charlie laughed dryly. “Yeah, she’s been through hell and back. But you know that.”
It stung, even though it was deserved.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“Well. In my experience what you meant to do doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you did.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad you’re here, but I’m scared to see what happens when you leave her again.”
“Charlie, I’m not gonna le-”
Suddenly, Charlie stiffened, eyes trained over his shoulder on something outside the front doors that made him cut his explanation short.
“Fuck,” she hissed.
“What? What is it?” Panic rose in Grayson’s throat as he followed her gaze.
There was a man in a navy blue suit walking through the parking lot. It wasn’t someone Grayson recognized, but nonetheless the hair on the back of his neck stood up. On instinct, he side stepped in front of Charlie, blocking her from the door.
“Who is that?”
“Our fucking dad.”
“What?“ Grayson whirled. “How the fuck did he even know about this?”
“I told him I was coming into town, he asked why, so I told him. Jesus, I didn’t think he was gonna show up! Indy’s gonna freak if she sees him, she can’t see him.”
“Don’t move,” he said, darting out of the entryway to peek into the viewing room. Indy was towards the front, talking to some of Bekah’s relatives it seemed. He caught sight of Ethan and moved to him quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to make it seem as casual as he could.
“Keep Indy busy and whatever you do, don’t let her go outside.”
Thankfully, Ethan didn’t ask for an explanation, and he simply started to move towards the front of the room as Grayson exited out the back, just in time to get to the front door before Kenneth made it in.
To his surprise, Charlie was right beside him when the heavy wooden door closed behind them.
He was shorter than Grayson expected. It was obvious his hair had once been blonde, but it was gray now, badly managed with box dye that he could still see remnants of by his ears.
Charlie’s breathing sped up and Grayson took a step closer to her, just barely in front of her.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Kenneth, who stopped short at the bottom of the three brick-layed stairs.
His eyes were blue when he looked up. They skipped over Grayson’s broad frame to Charlie and softened just a fraction.
“Char.”
She stiffened, and Grayson held his ground.
“Sir, this is a funeral. A funeral I don’t believe you were invited to.”
Kenneth’s eyes went cold the way a father’s do when they’re threatened, and he fixed them on Grayson. Gray enjoyed the fact that he had to crane his neck to see him.
“And who exactly might you be?” Kenneth spat.
“I could ask you the same question sir.”
“The fuck are you, a funeral bouncer?”
Grayson flexed his knuckles.
“Sure, if that’s what you want to call me. Either way, you aren’t welcome here and you need to go.”
“Look, I’m here to see my daughter, alright? Now get out of my way.”
“I can’t do that.”
Kenneth narrowed his eyes as it clicked.
“Ahhh. So you’re the boyfriend then.”
Grayson stayed quiet, but his stomach turned at the smirk that creeped across the man’s face.
“Get out of my way, boy.”
“I can’t do that,” Grayson repeated himself and set his feet.
Kenneth moved up another step, but he stopped, eyes on Grayson’s elbow where a hand had appeared.
Charlie.
“What’s her name?”
Kenneth laughed. It was an ugly sound.
“Are you kidding me Charlie? You think I don’t know your sister’s name? Give me a fucking break.”
Grayson saw the tears brim in Charlie’s eyes, and he clenched his fists.
“No. I’m talking about the 15 year old whose funeral you’re using for your own personal gain. What’s her name?”
Kenneth didn’t have an answer. Charlie stepped in front of Grayson, standing toe to toe with her father as she took a deep breath.
“Leave. You aren’t welcome here. You aren’t welcome anywhere near my sister, or me for that matter.”
“Charlie.”
“What type of piece of shit do you have to be to show up when your daughter is hurting like this? Hmm?”
“I just knew she’d be here-”
“You also know her address, Dad. You chose here because you want her weak, you want her to need you and she doesn’t. Get out. Leave. I’m not playing this game anymore.”
“Charlie c’mon.” Grayson could see the panic in Kenneth’s eyes as he realized what his eldest was really saying.
“Indiana has always been so much smarter than me. And I should have listened to her when she told me to not give you the time of day.” She shook her head, a few tears slipping past her eyelashes, taking mascara with them.
“Charlie, you’re all I have left.”
“Yeah, and you did that to yourself. Now, I have a funeral to get to, and if you try to follow me I’ll let him beat you into the ground like you deserve.”
With that, she turned and walked back through the doors.
Grayson stared at the broken man for a moment longer, and then he turned to follow her. She was sitting in one of the big chairs by the table by the window, hands shaking slightly as she brushed her hair behind her ear.
“Hey, you okay?” He squatted down beside her to get to her eye level. He saw Indy in the way her lips shook while she breathed, trying to pull it together.
“Do you want me to call Dev?”
She shook her head with a dry laugh.
“No, he’s already worried enough about me. I’m okay. Thank you for that, by the way. Pretty sure he would have just walked right past me if you weren’t out there. I shouldn’t have even told him about this.”
“You didn’t know he was gonna show up. I’m just glad he didn’t make it inside,” Grayson sighed, eyes flickering over to make sure Indy couldn’t see them. Charlie knew what he was looking for.
“Well, you’re the hero of the day Dolan. I’m sure deflecting the dead beat father counts for some brownie points in winning her over,” she said.
Grayson’s brows furrowed when he looked at her. He reached to the table and pulled a tissue for her to wipe her mascara with before he spoke.
“I wasn’t gonna tell her. No need to stress her out more than she already is, you know?”
Charlie looked at him for a moment, her head cocking to the right just barely, and she smiled just barely.
“Yeah. Right,” she agreed.
“I’m gonna go find her, but come get me if you need me okay?”
She nodded, smiling when he patted her knee and moved back into the parlor. Ethan was walking around with Indy, looking at all the floral arrangements that had been sent. Grayson slotted himself beside her.
“Are the blue ones different flowers though? Like what makes them purple?” Ethan asked.
“They’re all hydrangeas. I think it has something to do with the soil, that’s what makes them different colors.”
“Acid. The soil has to be acidic, Ma always adds stuff to get the blue ones at the house,” Grayson chimed in, subtly relieving Ethan of his duties. Indy relaxed when she felt him next to her.
“The blue ones are my favorite,” she hummed, rubbing a petal between her thumb and finger.
“Noted,” Grayson said. “Let’s get you some water, it’s almost 2.”
She didn’t protest, nerves buzzing with dread as she realized it was almost time for her to speak in front of so many people.
“You have my speech right?”
He patted his chest pocket where he’d tucked it that morning.
“You’ve got this. I’ll be right there the whole time, okay?”
She nodded, following him to the small kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge.
Time flew, and before she knew it everyone was seated in the parlor as quiet music played and the service began. There was a preacher who spoke, read some scripture. Indy could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Grayson’s hand anchored her, squeezing hers just barely. He traced over knuckles with his finger. B-R-E-A-T-H-E.
She tried, but her lungs felt tight when the preacher gave her the cue. She stood and smoothed out her dress, took the paper from Grayson. It quivered in the air as she carried it to the podium. There were too many eyes on her, too many red and bloodshot from tears already shed.
She looked at Grayson. He only nodded at her, a silent reassurance. She smoothed the paper out on the wood, inhaled through her nose, and spoke.
“Hi. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Indiana Cross, and I was a friend of Bekah’s. I’ve never done one of these before, and to be completely honest with you, I’m not really sure how to do one of these. So, I thought about what Bekah would do when I asked her a question - she’d tell me we were living in the 21st century, and that I should ‘just google it’. So that’s what I did. But it wasn’t helpful, because eulogies aren’t designed to be told about 15 year olds. Because 15 year olds are supposed to turn 16, and get their driver’s license and go to prom and grow up to be 17, and so on. So, I don’t think any of us know how to do this -” she waved around the room with a broken exhale - “but that’s okay.”
“I’m the type of person who believes that there are reasons for a lot of things in life, but I’m struggling, like I’m sure many of you are today, to understand what the reason for Bekah being taken from us so soon is. Maybe it’s beyond our understanding. Maybe it’s the cruelty of the universe. All I know is, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t going to make sense to me for a very long time. But all we can do is work to remember Bekah for the light that she was, and will continue to be. So, I’m going to share a few stories about Bekah, and the people that loved her.
She could hear the sniffles, both her own amplified in the mic, and those from the crowd. She locked eyes with Grayson, who was sitting in the third row. He only nodded his head, willing all of his strength up to her somehow.
“I first met Bekah in a place where you generally don’t want to meet someone. The hospital. But, as anyone could guess, Bekah made a hospital seem like the best place to be simply by being there herself. We played pranks on the nurses, and then got said nurses in on our team and ganged up on the other ones. We ran the halls on good days, we cuddled up and watched movies on bad days. We snuck extra pudding and ice cream from the kitchen once when she was thirteen and got caught, and let me just say, I think that girl could have talked her way out of any trouble she ever got herself in. But the most important thing about that first hospital stay with Bekah was what she told me when I met her. She looked me right in the eyes and she said ‘don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it’. I had never met a kid with so much strength and bravery in my life. But that’s what we did, and by god did she keep that energy until the very end.
“Bekah went into remission 3 times. And when I found out she was back for this next time, I figured it would be just like her past rounds. She would beat it, because she’s Bekah, and she always beats it. I don’t know where her strength comes from, but I know some of it is from her parents. But in all honesty, I think she was just a special person with something special in her. She was kind, and loving and strong and hilarious and witty and smart and beautiful and special. I would give up just about anything to get to see her grow up, to see the woman she would have become if - if she’d been given just a little bit more t-time.”
Indy’s voice began to falter, her breath hitching in her throat on the way out. She grabbed onto the podium, her notes blurry with tears. Grayson twitched in his pew, moving to stand up, to go to her. She saw him and moved her hand to the top of the wood, tapping her fingers subtly. Somehow, he knew what she meant. Wait.
“But I can find some peace in knowing how Bekah’s last days went, and I hope I can share some of that with you. She wasn’t scared to die. She went peacefully, and I don’t have a single doubt that she’s up in heaven watching us right now, probably making fun of me and also thanking me for not telling you all some of the stories of things we got up to. So to end it, I’ll quote a lyric from one of her favorite people, who she claimed would ‘totally be her boyfriend if he knew she had cancer’, Harry Styles. He says “remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here.” For now, Bekah is far away. And that’s a hard reality, for all of us, because she deserved more time here. But I know we’ll see her again someday, and I’m going to hold onto that until this starts to make a bit more sense, if it ever does. So, I love you Beks. Always have, always will. And I’ll see you again someday. Promise.”
Her voice cracked at the end as she stepped back from the microphone, fingers numb and cheeks hot and stiff from the salt of her tears. Grayson stood as she walked back down the center aisle to him, reached out to take her hand and help her to her seat. With the pressure gone and everyone’s eyes elsewhere, she crumpled into his chest, grabbing onto the lapel of his suit jacket as the sobs began to break free.
“Shhh, you’re okay. You did so good,” he whispered just for her, his own tears disappearing into her hair. Charlie ran a hand along her back to soothe her as the preacher returned to the podium to speak again. She didn’t hear much of what he said. Everyone cried as the service moved on, sounds of rustled tissue boxes and quiet sobs behind fists made the soundtrack to the show no one wanted to see.
Everything moved too quickly, and suddenly everyone was lining up to pass by and give their final goodbyes. Indy clung to Grayson’s hand as Ethan and Charlie excused themselves out of respect.
Indy blinked away her tears to get one more look at Bekah when it was her turn. Grayson reached to adjust her head scarf, and Indy rubbed her hand, willing herself to pretend it was warm.
Grayson was a pallbearer, eyes red and puffy as he carried her much too light casket to the back of the hearse. It gave Indy comfort, knowing she was safe with him.
She held it together on the walk to the car, head held high the way Bekah would want it to be, and she noticed Charlie scurry to take the front seat, forcing Grayson into the back with her. She was grateful for it, especially when she slid into the middle seat so she could sit next to him as they joined the procession.
Indy watched the trees, and Grayson watched her.
The cemetery was beautiful as they drove through it. Plenty of trees that Indy knew would be beautiful in the warmer months. It gave her some peace to know that she would rest in such a lovely place, even though she knew she wasn’t really there. She hoped it would give people a place to remember her fondly, to talk to her. She herself had never really cared for cemeteries, but she stood tall anyways and went through the motions. She watched Grayson carry the casket to the pedestal, took the rose that they gave her off of the casket spray and said her goodbyes quietly.
The sun shone brightly above them, but it began to drizzle right as she was about to climb into the car. A sun shower, she supposed.
Her tears mixed with the droplets that fell.
“Hey Beks,” she smiled, an odd sense of peace flowing over her as she stood there for a moment to soak it in before she climbed into the car.
Ethan drove them back to Jersey, and Indy laid her head on Grayson’s shoulder the whole two hours it took to get there.
When they got back, it was obvious what Lisa had been doing to keep herself busy. There was a casserole in the oven, both a vegan and non-vegan option, with fresh salad and bread she’d baked herself.
“I know it’s not really dinner time yet, I just figured you guys might be hungry when you got back, and I didn’t have much else to do,” Lisa explained with a sheepish smile. Grayson just smiled at her and kissed her temple.
“Thanks Ma. You’re the best. Dee, you want something to change into?”
“Sure. My stuff is out at the house though,” she reminded him.
“I’ll find you something,” he said before he disappeared upstairs.
“The house? You all stayed out at the tiny homes last night?” Charlie asked quietly. Indy bristled, ready to defend herself.
“I needed to write the eulogy, I needed somewhere quiet, and it’s nice out there. I just needed somewhere nice for the night, not my place.”
Charlie was smiling.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” she said. Indy balked, unsure that she’d heard her sister correctly. She resisted the urge to quote some of the explitivies Charlie had called Grayson when she first found out he’d left for LA during their phone call.
“You’re not saying it’s a bad thing…” Indy confirmed, waiting.
“All I’m saying is… maybe I was wrong. He’s a good guy. Just be careful, okay? Can’t see you like that again, especially with all this going on too.”
Indy was blushing, but she nodded.
“Here, try these. Might fit if you roll them and tie em’ real tight.” Gray came down the stairs with a pair of black sweatpants and an old wrestling sweatshirt. She took them gratefully, moving into the bathroom to change. She felt free once her dress was gone, like she’d pulled some of the weight of the day off with the fabric. The sweats were still too big, but she didn’t mind.
Outside the door and down the hallway, Ethan had pulled his brother aside.
“You need to be here.”
Grayson waited for him to continue.
“I was fucking wrong. I got my priorities fucked, and I put that on you, and I’m sorry. I know the businesses are out in LA, and I don’t think we can really change that right now, but we’ll figure it out. I can fly out here when we need to, and you can come out when you have to.”
Indy heard voices down the hall.
“Flights are cheaper on Thursdays usually, we could always plan for that.”
It hurt worse somehow, for it to be in Grayson’s voice.
It was Tuesday.
She disappeared quietly down the hall in the other direction, her stomach turning.
It was what she knew would happen. It was the pain she’d told herself would be worth letting herself be with him, just for a few more days.
The pain in her gut had other ideas. The smell of the food from the kitchen made her nauseous when she reentered, and she gave Lisa a sympathetic smile. The angel in the whole ordeal, the last thing she wanted was to hurt her.
“Hey Li, I’m not feeling too good. I think I’m gonna lay down upstairs for a bit if that’s okay.”
“Of course, of course it’s okay. Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you, and thank you for cooking. You guys go ahead and eat if you get hungry, I’m probably good for tonight.”
“Okay sweetie, get some rest.”
Indy managed to get upstairs undetected, and she found herself in Grayson’s room out of habit. She didn’t know what else to do, so she climbed under the covers and let her tears fall. She felt stupid, and unwanted, and sad. She’d let her heart get trampled again, all for a few days of comfort.
She felt pathetic.
Grayson’s feet thudded up the stairs only a few minutes later. She buried her face in the covers like a child, made her breathing even and slow.
He creaked the door open quietly, feet pausing before he came over to her.
She felt his hand on her hair, smoothing it back, and then his lips on her temple.
“I love you,” he whispered, and then he was gone.
Indy’s heart jumped to her throat, and her eyes shot open when she heard the door latch.
Her mind ran circles around itself as she laid there, staring at the ceiling wrapped in the blankets that smelled like him.
Did he love her? And if he did, did it matter?
It was times like that she wished more than anything that her mom was there. The closest thing she had was Charlie, who she suddenly felt guilty for leaving downstairs. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t reappear so soon. So she sat, and she spiraled and rationalized and tried to make sense of her world that had fallen apart around her so quickly.
Downstairs, Grayson’s mind was wandering. His stomach led him, as it often did, but the greater part of him wanted to be upstairs in bed instead of at the kitchen table. But he couldn’t deny his mom’s cooking, especially after a hard day. So he sat at the table, glad that Charlie was no longer staring daggers into him from across the table. He gave Indy an hour or so to sleep before he went to check on her again, surprised to see her awake, perched on the edge of the bed.
“Hey you,” he smiled. “You ready to go?”
She looked up quickly. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she looked nervous.
“Go?”
“To the house. All our stuff is out there, and I figured Charlie could stay in here tonight.”
“Yeah. Yeah, the house would be good.”
He held his hand out for her and she took it, let him lead her out to the truck, down the roads to the houses.
“You still tired?” Grayson asked once he’d kicked his boots off.
She thought of laying with him and nodded, walking up to the loft so he would follow.
He laid down beside her, let her curl up to him like she always had. It was peaceful, with the quiet hum of the furnace and the woods outside. The sun had set on their drive, and the dim lights from the kitchen made everything a warm yellow.
Indy took a deep breath and moved her hand under Grayson’s hoodie to find his skin.
Y-O-U-C-A-N-G-O
Grayson was quiet for a moment.
“What?”
She traced it again, slower, but she didn’t get to finish. He sat up in the middle of it, turning to her with concern all over his face.
“You want me to go?”
She stared at the ceiling.
“Want isn’t really the right word. But you can go.”
His heartbeat picked up, and he moved into her eye line.
“What does that mean.”
“I really appreciate you being here. I do. But I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to stay here just because I’m sad. You don’t have to stay for me.”
A punch to the gut would have hurt him less.
“Indy. Indy, look at me.”
She turned and found his eyes, and to her surprise, his were watery.
“You’re my only reason to stay. I want to stay.”
“Stop. Just stop, I heard you earlier, you don’t have to pretend like you want to be here.”
“What’re you talking about?”
Indy sat up on her elbows.
“Flights are cheap on Thursdays,” she said. Grayson’s heart dropped for a moment, and then the pieces came into place.
“Indy. Baby, that wasn’t what you think it was.”
“Then what was it Grayson, please enlighten me.”
Grayson took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“That was Ethan and I trying to figure out how I can stay here. How I can stay here with you. Because I want to be here. I want to be with you, I always have. Ever since I met you I knew I was meant to be wherever you are. I never should have left, it was the dumbest shit I ever did. And I didn’t want to bring all this up, because I know emotions are fucked right now, with Beks and everything. But I want to be here with you, or I want you with me, or I want whatever it takes for us to be okay and together. If that’s something you still want.”
Her head was spinning.
“You still want me?”
He nodded.
“Never stopped.”
Indy took in her first deep breath in days.
“Oh.”
They sat in silence for a while. Grayson opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking better of his words before he spoke them.
“It’s okay if you don’t know tonight. There’s too much going on right now, I don’t expect you to know how you feel about it right now,” he finally said, voice too loud in his excitement and nerves.
“Yeah. I need time to… think.”
“Yeah! Yeah, no that’s good. I want you to take your time with it, of course. And I can give you as much space as you need, you know, like, um, I can go sleep on the couch. If you want.”
Despite everything, Indy laughed.
“You don’t even fit on the couch.”
“I could make it work,” he said sheepishly.
“You’re fine. Just go to sleep, and I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
There was an excitement in his voice that she hadn’t heard in a long time - it snuck through even as he tried to hide it.
“Okay. Sounds good. Well, uh… goodnight.”
“Goodnight Gray.”
They stared at each other for a minute, unsure of what to do with all the new emotions that had come to light.
“We should probably lay down, if we’re gonna sleep,” Indy said.
“Right, yeah. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she said again, watching him awkwardly pull back the covers and climb in fully clothed. She wanted to laugh at how awkward it was, as if they hadn’t been in each other’s arms every night since he’d been back. He kept his back to her, and she knew with her mind buzzing she wouldn’t be able to sleep.
She pulled her laptop out of the bag by the bed, fired up her hotspot and started to scroll through her feeds, passing mindless time and keeping herself busy until Grayson began to snore, rolling to his stomach. It was a sweet sound, and she couldn’t help but to reach over and move his covers up, her fingers brushing over his arm.
He stirred under her touch, grunting a bit as he half woke up, sitting up just enough to pull the yellow hoodie over his head and toss it off the bed.
“Whatcha doing,” he mumbled, reaching a blind hand out until he found skin, fingers landing on her leg under the covers. Indy smiled and moved her hand away from her keyboard, scratched lightly up and down his back, over his tattoo as a thought crossed her mind.
“Just emails. Almost done.”
“You okay?” He asked, voice muffled by the pillow.
“I’m okay. Sleep.”
“M’kay.”
He was snoring again momentarily, and once she was sure he was out she claimed her hand back, clicking quietly until she got to what she was looking for.
Her email from UCLA.
She scrolled down to the bottom, looked at the two links she had stared at so many times since it had arrived in her inbox.
Accept. Decline.
She moved her mouse and clicked once, and then she closed her laptop, put it on the nightstand and cuddled under the covers. Grayson huffed at her movements, reaching for her in the dark. She let him pull her closer, relishing in the feeling of being with him for another night.
#mixtape#ONLY ONE MORE TRACK GUYS#WHAT#WHATTTTT#then the epilogue#grayson dolan#grayson dolan fanfiction
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falling in love | atsumu m.
pairing: atsumu x reader
warnings: few curse words. Yk the usual; aged up/post time skip
alternatively; what its like falling and being in love with atsumu
thank u all for the thoughts on the sakusa version. figured i’d give another boy a try and am considering making this a series
Falling in love with Atsumu feels like being on a roller coaster. There are so many ups and downs but you never want to get off. Falling in love with him requires time but once you do its the most amazing thing in the world.
Its meeting at Onigiri Miya after he’s had a long and rough day at practice and you two order the same meal. The order is called off and in a haze of exhaustion he thinks its his grabbing the bag almost immediately bumping into you and dropping the bag. Hes so so tired and so so hungry that he nearly tears up before mumbling a series of expletives, not even processing any of the spew of apologies you shoot at him. Even worse when he finds out it wasn’t even his order he dropped, because so much for a free meal. He’s in shock when you decline him buying you a new one because he “looks ready to drop dead at any moment.” He barely processes the way Osamu comes out both annoyed at the mess and amused at his frozen twin before telling you a replacement was on the house and forcing Atsumu to go nap in the back for a little because driving home.
Its how after that night, he’d started seeing you more and more at the shop, very brief conversations here and there leading up to him asking for your number since “ya seem to come here as much as me.” At some point he found out that its because its your roommate’s favorite spot and picking up dinner is on your way home (not that you've ever mentioned that you’d gotten to enjoy the view of both the cook and his brother.)
Its the friendship you develop with his twin and fit right in with their friends. In some whirlwind of conversation you expressed concern for him (as a stranger) to where his brother said it wasn’t unusual for him to come in, half dead, eat and sleep off some of his exhaustion before heading home. It wasn’t all the time, but often enough. However, accidentally stealing someone else's food was a new one for him. You jokingly called Atsumu sleeping beauty, which was the start of it. The two of you frequently teamed up against the twin, to tease at him and no matter how much Atsumu claimed to hate it and he wishes you two despised each other, he cant hide the smile that tugs at him.
Its the moments like the one when you met where you end up picking him from practice, catching a ride to the gym because he's so so tired and wants nothing more than to stuff his face and sleep for days. Just months into your friendship he’s trusting you with his car, because you seem that dependable. The praises of you being a good friend as his hand lingers against yours after passing the keys over to you. The way he looks slumped against the cars window has something stirring inside of you. You take a picture for blackmail later and to reinforce how much better he is when hes not talking.
Its how he sits on your couch eating all your snacks while he shit talks all the guys that appear on your tinder. Calls some of them jobless losers, and its the frist time he admits that he thinks you're hot. “Yer too hot for that guy”, while swiping left on all of them (even the ones you would’ve gone right for.) The way you retort confirming that he thinks you’re hot has him speechless and stuttering, insisting that he didnt mean it like that, yet can’t explain how he meant it.
The times you bicker and he suddenly becomes the worst friend you have. The time you two had stopped talking for like a month, mad over something you’d forgotten a week later. Yet, all you knew is that you were supposed to be mad. He could “go to hell” and you were “so fucking annoying.” Over the course of your friendship he’d made it a habit of taking things from you; your favorite mug because he still had a drink in it when it was time for him to go. Your fuzzy socks that he’d claimed during a movie night, because your apartment was way too cold. The spare reusable bottle because he forgot his and was already on his way to the gym. You’d resorted to trying to slowly get your stuff through Osamu, but by week 3 he’d grown tired of it. He promised you both a free meal if you came and helped him close up one night, before forcing you two to talk it out. Within five minutes the two of you are laughing.
Your first date had been one by accident of some sorts. You’d been walking around a shopping center at night and he’d caught view of a new ice cream shop. It was his cheat weekend and he suggested stopping. His treat. Some time in between you going home he’d teased that it felt like a date. You both were hit with a oh shit kind of moment because it was true. Throughout the night your hands had brushed several times, and you’d both even let the other use your spoon to taste your different ice cream flavors.
Atsumu’s feelings came relatively easy. He thought you were kind, funny, interesting, and of course attractive. You had a way of leaving him speechless with your quick and witty comeback, and it was refreshing. It’d been something he hadn’t seen much since his high school days with Aran. However he’d denied the feelings for the longest, swearing to himself that he’d never have a crush on you. You were just one of the bros, but better.But, after that first date its like the feelings just flooded out. It’d ended with you hinting that you’d be interested in going on another one, “perhaps a real one this time,” and he just nodded.
There weren’t many dates before the two of you dived into your relationship. Afterall, you’d been friends for over a year and if he’d thought you were annoying he wouldve “been gotten rid of you.” His first act of the two of you becoming a couple, was a cute picture for his new wallpaper. It’d been a hassle to get because with every picture, one of you had a problem. The first time his roots were peaking through too much and he fussed at you for not telling him he needed a touch up. Then the one he liked you were blinking, and hed insisted you looked good anyways (or that he did). He’d recounted a time where he didn’t care about making memories, but it was different now. They made him who he was, and wanted to keep the memories of your growth.
Its the nights before games that he spends with you doing self care (an act he used to pretend like he only did because you wanted to, before just begrudgingly admitting that he liked it too.) You’d gone to look for a specific face mask, before he admitted that he stole it and forgot to bring it back (when really he used it all up and was just waiting for you to buy another one so he could take that one too). When you rolled your eyes at him, he’d just brush it off a promise of returning it before opening his arms for you to return to your cuddle position. You were supposed to be watching a movie, but he’d pulled up old games of his future opponents and kept showing you interesting plays. One hand holding the phone, the other unconsciously rubbing circles onto your back. He asks if you’re paying attention to him and you admit that you aren’t at all and he sighs in over dramatic disappointment before locking the phone and focusing on you.
Its the argument that almost led to your breakup that happened due to a miscommunication. You’d been out with friends, Atsumu already trying and failing to coax you into staying the night with him instead. All it had taken was a picture taken completely out of context for him to feel hurt. He really really liked you (borderline was ready to admit loving you)!and thought you’d at least felt a fraction of the same emotion towards him. That night he hadn’t thought through anything before sending the picture (snapped on who knows who’s phone) to you with a simple ‘I see how it is’. What made it even worse is that you hadn’t seen the picture right away.
It’s how your heart dropped later that night when you were finally ready to head back to his, and your heart ached at how you called him several times only to be sent straight to voicemail. Your attempt at reaching his twin was lucky as he hadn’t even told him about what he thought had happened yet. Another strike of luck when Osamu believed you and ensured that this was a case of his brother acting first and thinking later.
The makeup had been one both of relief and realization that the two of you needed to talk. It’s when you found out that he was in love with you and that he really did love hard. Just like with volleyball, he wasn’t sure what kind of dumb shit he’d be getting into if you weren’t there. Having to sit through the conversation was uncomfortable for him as he was often the one doing the scolding to others. However the difference was that you admitted that you could’ve handled it better as well (something he doesn’t do when he’s complaining about others).
Its the nights where he hits you up at 2am already outside begging you to just take a late night drive with you. He knows you can’t tell him no so he’s offering a smirk pushing the door open as you sleepily make your way in. His eyes soften at how cute you look (he’s definitely known to slip up and talk in a baby voice like this and yes you’ve blackmailed that ass when he annoys you). You tell him that you look like shit at the moment and he agrees before backtracking and still saying you look good.
You end up at some late night drive through arguing about fries because “ya didn’t even wanna come out in the first place” and you both don’t need them. You could just share. The workers in the drive through literally have to tell y’all to hurry up to where he just glared at the faceless menu. You have to end up shouting over him the order that he still ends up complaining about. Even though you end up with the two different orders he eats all yours and every time you try and swat his hand away he exclaims that he bought them.
Those nights you wake up pretty easily because he lowers the windows and turns up his throwbacks playlist pretty loud and sings terribly and just looks so happy. Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney comes on and he loves grabbing your hand at it while singing along. Those moments are a different kind of joy from when he’s playing volleyball. He’s not focused on a win or his team and how to celebrate. He’s living in the moment, happy and carefree and with his favorite person.
a/n: um yeah cant lie I do like the sakusa version better but here we go. another middle of the night ramble.
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu imagine#hq imagines#atsumu x reader#atsumu imagines#hq imagine#haikyuu imagines
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— oh, baby
summary: the mighty first born has been turned into a baby thanks to another one of levi’s purchases from akuzon (this time beel accidentally put it in soup thinking it was a spice) and he gets to spend time with you and his brothers!
warning: fluff
note: baby! lucifer has a special place in my heart + kinda took inspo from strawbericream’s baby series!
beelzebub ;
“i’m sorry, lucifer, i’ll accept any form of punishment from you.” but beel’s words were only met with baby babbling from the toddler in your arms.
lucifer didn’t seem to have understood a word, instead he smiled brightly and made grabby hands toward beel. “beew, uppies! uppies!”
you cooed at how adorable and carefree baby lucifer looked as beelzebub gently tossed him into the air, the melodious giggles of the baby echoing throughout the halls of the house of lamentation - a bright and airy contrast to the usually dark and intimidating aura.
“he’s so soft and tiny.” the sixth born marveled, gently poking one of lucifer’s cheeks as the baby eventually settled down in his arms.
“num num?” the baby asked as he reached out, wanting to be held by you. “hunggie, num num pwease.”
“and so polite, too!” peppering lucifer’s face with kisses, you hummed. “we’ll get you food, sweetie, don’t worry.”
“i’ll see what we can make ... this time without the thing levi bought.” beel said, already rummaging through the cupboards and fridge.
belphegor ;
after feeding lucifer some homemade princess’s poison apple sauce (beelzebub had to redo it thrice since he ended up eating the first two batches), baby lucifer was yawning in your arms, ready to nap.
“(y/n), is that ... is that lucifer?”
turning to see belphegor rubbing the sleep from his eyes on the couch, you gave him a smile. “yeah, and looks like he’s about ready to fall asleep”
“b-bewphie?”
the avatar of sloth watched warily as you set lucifer down and eyeing the baby tottering toward him. “huh, i can finally get pay back for -” the words were cut short when the baby clumsily climbed the couch and snuggled up against him.
“night night, bewphie,” lucifer yawned before succumbing to sleep, clinging onto his brother’s arm.
you could see a blush dusting belphegor’s cheeks, as he looked down at his baby brother napping beside him. “sweet dreams, lucifer.” was all he said before closing his eyes as well.
leviathan ;
when lucifer woke up from his afternoon nap, he went on the hunt for his brother ‘wevi’ to play with.
“i should stop letting other people get my packages for me.” levi grumbled as he dug around his shelves to find something he can have lucifer play with him.
you smiled, despite how upset levi seemed, you know that he’s looking forward to spending some time playing video games with lucifer - even if he’s a baby right now.
“wevi,” lucifer whined, already growing impatient. “pway! pway!”
a blush was present on levi’s cheeks when he turned to show you mario cart. “this should be okay enough for him to play right, (y/n)?”
“mawio pway!”
“yeah, and he’s excited to play with you too!” you grinned.
levi enjoyed playing with his brother, but what he didn’t enjoy was losing to a baby five races in a row.
mammon ;
“(y/n), where have ya been? i’ve been lookin’ - w-wha? is that lucifer?”
lucifer squealed happily when he saw mammon, waving his hands at him. “mammie!”
the nickname reduced mammon into a stuttering and blushing mess, forgetting whatever scheme he wanted to pull on baby lucifer.
“lucifer, sweetheart, please don’t talk while your mouth is full.” you said gently, wiping the corners of his mouth while he still bounced happily on his highchair.
forget blushing and stuttering, mammon’s chest tightened seeing you so at ease with lucifer - wait. did you just call lucifer sweetheart? maybe he can turn himself into a baby so you can coddle him and call him pet names and -
“shiney, mammie!”
turning to look at the baby, mammon saw that lucifer’s eyes were fixated on his latest steal (metaphorically or literally, it’s up to you to decide), a golden sphere with a map of the devildom. “’course it’s shiney! i chose this baby for my room!”
smiling, you watched the white haired demon happily explain what the item was as lucifer hung onto every word.
asmodeus ;
“i’ve only seen him in the pictures that father’s shown us up in the celestial realm, but - oh, lucifer, you’re such an adorable and handsome child!” asmo delighted in the kisses that lucifer seemed to indulge his brother. “i wish you were this affectionate even when you’re all grown up”
the fifth born had slipped into your room for a visit only to find you in the bathtub with lucifer, making him go on an online shopping spree for baby clothes, not caring if this situation is only temporary.
lucifer was wrapped up in one of your fuzzy towels as you and asmo choose which outfit would be comfortable to sleep in at the same adorable enough to snap a few pictures for a remembrance.
“i wish lucifer would always be this willing to add more color to his wardrobe,” asmo sighed, bouncing around lucifer on his hip. “or be more openly affectionate, at least.”
a royal blue onesie was what asmo chose saying that “it’s his color is it not? and it looks so perfect against his skin!”
you took a picture of the two as the avatar of lust paced around your room with the baby in his arm, cooing and talking to one another. “levi says it could last a few days, you’re welcome to plan his outfits, asmo.”
and that’s all it took before you were engulfed in a hug and a conversation about coordinating outfits for everyone.
satan ;
“you want me to what?”
“please, satan, he’s been asking for you all night and it’s way past his bedtime,” you begged, trying your best to make an adorable puppy dog eyes at the demon.
“satan,” lucifer sniffled, reaching out for his brother. “stowy,”
“fine,” he said, accepting lucifer into his arms before making himself comfortable once more on his reading chair. “i should have a children’s storybook near my bed.”
looking at one of the shelves at the foot of the bed, you see a number of children’s story books, some from the human world and some even from the celestial real. “which one?”
“perhaps the one from the celestial realm would be nice for him.”
you made yourself comfortable on satan’s bed as he read softly to lucifer, who was already fast asleep halfway through the story.
it was quite an adorable sight when you woke up in the middle of night to see satan and lucifer fast asleep together on the plush chair.
taglist: @theeonlyroman (please send me an ask if you would like to be included in my taglist)
#obey me#obey me swd#lucifer obey me#mammon obey me#leviathan obey me#satan obey me#asmodeus obey me#beelzebub obey me#belphegor obey me#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me belphegor x reader
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I don’t know if anyone remembers my silly little Narnia fic where the Pevensie kids all get meet-cutes with their future partners, but I’ve been working on a silly little sequel ever since, and I finally finished it. So, here’s the Pevensies finally getting together (sort of) with their partners, from the partner’s PoV, because I figured t hey deserved to get a say.
Jane had crushes before. A couple of really childish ones that were more her playing at mimicking the concept before the war forced her to grow up too fast, and then a few more serious ones after her little jaunt to Neverland as puberty dug its nasty little claws in. Peter was different.
Her Peter, not Peter Pan, even though Peter Pevensie wasn’t really her Peter at all. He was her best friend, sure, and had been since the day he’d let her flatten a couple of bullies by herself before he leapt in to de-escalate the situation, but he wasn’t hers. Not like she wanted him to be. Because not only was he kind of ridiculously handsome, and just carried himself with the sort of confidence and poise that could steal anyone’s breath, but he was also just an incredibly good person.
Which, Jane had found, was kind of rare, in boys. And maybe part of that was because Peter – her Peter, not- whatever – was a lot more grown up than the other boys her age, but she didn’t think so. He could be verygrown up when he wanted to be – which was awe-inspiring in it’s own way – but even when he was being silly and playful and ridiculously childish, he was still good. He was never horrid, never unkind, not even in jest. He never looked down on her, never held back if she instigated a bit of rough-housing, but he also never pushed her too hard, or gloated when he won, or sulked when he lost.
Jane had felt strangely alone after she got back from Neverland. She’d gained a new appreciation for the joys and wonders of childhood, but she hadn’t lost her understanding of responsibility and duty. She could get along with kids and adults, but she always felt so out of place. Like she was hiding half of herself just to fit in. That, and, she’d never been particularly lady-like to begin with, and living with the Lost Boys even for a few dayshad ruined her for any sort of delicate dignity and grace, so she didn’t really fit in with the girls her own age.
Peter – not-really-her Peter – was the same as her. Too grown-up for his age, but with a strong sense of whimsy and fantasy that would have most grown-ups giving him the same odd looks Jane got. He told the best stories, and her temper never seemed to throw him, and if he was sometimes a bit overbearing, like it didn’t even occur to him that she might, possibly, have a different opinion or a better idea, he never acted like she didn’t have a right to call him out on it. When they argued – and they did, fairly regularly, even – it was never with intent to wound, just with passion and ideas spilling out too fast and too loud and too important to hold back.
Jane was pretty sure she loved him. Her mother had warned her to be careful, not to hang all her hopes on one boy when she was still so young, and Jane tried, she really did, but she honestly couldn’t imagine a better man than Peter Pevensie.
Not that there was anything happening. Because the problem was that she and Peter had been best friends for years. Peter didn’t have quite her problems with his peers, he got on well enough with the boys in their year, but it was clear – to Jane, at least – that he was also holding a little of himself back, when he was with them. Not with her. And that was good, that was great – it was amazing, quite frankly – but it was also a little bit painful.
Because, of course, they got teased. A lot. A boy and a girl spending that much time together? Everyonejust assumed they were ‘together’. And Jane got flustered, and that made her angry, and that made her even more flustered. She yelled at the other girls who wouldn’t stop asking about her ‘boooyfriend’, and she punched the boys who wouldn’t stop making lewd commentaries, and blushed ridiculously at any mention of the notion.
Peter was phased at all. ‘Hey, Pevensie, is that your girlfriend?’ was invariably answered with the sort of stern-disappointed stare that would put any parent or teacher to shameand a bland ‘Jane is my friend’. Which, of course, Jane really did appreciate, because being Peter’s friend was just about the best thing that had happened to her since Neverland. It just… would have been nice to see even a hintthat he might possibly have even once thought of her as more than that.
Still, she’d thought, they were still young, they had plenty of time. Only they didn’t. Because then Jane found out that Peter had enlisted. He was too young, technically, but Jane wasn’t surprised that that hadn’t stopped him. He was pretty big on duty – a bit too much, sometimes, but Jane really kind of loved him for that, too – and on fighting bigotry anywhere and everywhere he found it, so it really, really wasn’t a surprise.
It wasscary, though. A little bit terrifying, because he might not come back. He might go out there to fight, and he might dieinstead. That would tear her apart no matter what, but it alsomade her think that she might not have another chance to ever tell him, to ever knowif maybe…
And if there was one thing Neverland had taught Jane, it was that sometimes the amazing things didn’t happen unless you believedthey would. Sometimes you had to jump off the damn cliff and just have faith that you would fly, instead of fall. She kind of wished she had a little pixie dust right now, though, just to give her that extra boost.
Because Peter was standing in front of her, and sometime while Jane had been fretting, they’d managed to walk all the way to the god damned train station, and he was literally minutes away from leaving. He looked kind of dashing in the uniform, but he also looked – hilariously – uncomfortable. She would have expected him to look at home in it, with how he was about duty and fighting and all, but no. He kept tugging at the sleeves and shifting his shoulders and grimacing.
And she loved the stupid face he pulled when he really just wanted to stick his tongue out in disgust but won’t because he was trying to be polite. She loved his stupid face no matter what expression he was wearing, and she needed him to know thatbefore he left. Just in case.
So she grabbed him by the front of his uniform – uncaring that she was interrupting whatever his little sister was saying, because if she cared, then she wouldn’t be able to go through with it, and then she’d neverget around to it – and told him “Don’t die.” in as stern a tone as she could manage before she yanked him down as she went up on tiptoes to press her mouth against his. Thatshould get the message across.
It wasn’t, exactly, the world’s best kiss. It wasn’t exactly even a proper kiss at all. Jane just held there for a long moment, not moving, eyes scrunched shut, her lips against his, until her courage faltered, and she dropped back down onto her heels and opened her eyes to stare up at him belligerently.
Peter looked… stunned. Which was at least better than disgusted. Or pitying. His eyes were unfocused, gazing off into nothingness somewhere a little above her head, and his jaw was slightly slack, lips just a tiny bit parted. “Oh.” He said, like it was a prelude to something, only that was it, he didn’t say anything else, just kept staring, and blinking, and staring some more.
Someone – probably Lucy – tried to pretend a snicker was actually a cough, and the noise seemed to knock Peter out of his trance. He shook himself, frowning for a brief moment before his gaze refocused on Jane, and- and everything just sort of stopped. Jane’s breath turned syrupy in her lungs and the rest of the platform just faded into fuzzy nothingness, because Peter was looking at her like he was really seeingher, like he was looking at something deeper than her damned bones, and was awed by what he saw. “Oh.” He said again, this time with a whole heap more emphasis and an entire world of meaning behind it.
It sounded infinitely better than the last one, so Jane tried for a smile. Peter grinned back, and Jane felt like she could possibly just float away without any helpful pixie dust at all. He reached up, curled a hand around the side of her neck – his hand was so warm – and leaned in. Then he hesitated, tilted his head, tried again, and finally managed to fit their mouths together. It was awkward, but also really endearing, and Jane didn’t care either way, because Peter’s – herPeter, and he really was hers– lips were on hers and moving and sliding and kissing, and her entire world narrowed down to that one sensation.
“I promise I will do my very best not to die.” Peter told her as he drew back.
“You’d better.” Jane snapped, letting go of his collar to poke him in the chest. “Because if that was all I getfrom you, Pevensie, I will drag you back from the land of the dead just to kill you myself.” Peter laughed, unfazed, and kissed her again.
---
The war was over, and Jack was finally home. Or, well, sort of home. He wouldn’t really feel like he’d made it home until he was back in America, but the Kingsley estate was close enough, the site of enough childhood misadventures to count. It was close enough, and if he was being honest with himself, he was putting off his return to the States, just a little. He could have been through the mirror and back home in a trice, without having to worry about boats or planes or travel time, but instead he was lingering about in London.
He made up excuse after excuse as to why he was staying, but the truth was, he was still hoping that he might run into Susan again. It was stupid, he knewit was stupid, she was a beautiful, clever, gentlewoman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that she’d even rememberhim, even if he did manage to find her again.
Everyone he’d asked from the pub where they’d met knew her, knew ofher, but no one knew any more about her than Jack did. Not even her last name. It was depressing, and made Jack feel like a stalker, so he’d stopped asking about her. He did not leave London, though, stupid hopeless romantic that he was.
Dwelling on it was even more stupid, he thought as he made his way back from a grocery run for Sunday lunch tomorrow that Lynn had forced him to go on to get him out of her hair for a while. He was being a pest, he should just go home, but the Underlandian in him insisted that home was where the heart was, and right now, his heart still hadn’t managed to let go of Susan.
Jack stopped dead on the sidewalk, staring, because there was no way- He was seeing things because he’d been thinking about her too much. Susan, walking with a younger girl at her side and arguing good naturedly with one of the boys a little ahead of them. “Susan?!” Jack called out before he could help himself, and jogged across the street towards her.
She looked up, eyes going wide with shock on spotting him. She looked so painfully youngin that moment, almost frightened, that Jack slowed uncertainly before he’d even reached her. Still, he pulled his most charming grin on, the one that she’d never been fooled by, but had seemed amused by, nonetheless, and swept her a gallant bow like he would if he unexpectedly ran into Lilibeth. “Jack.” Susan greeted, and that was definitely not the open, pleased greeting he’d been hoping for. She sounded reserved, wary, and worst of all, uncertain.
Jack let his smile dim a bit, and told himself it was ridiculous to feel disappointed. It wasn’t as if they had anything more than one evening of interesting conversation. But it had been the most genuineconversation Jack had managed in years, it had been so Underlandian, like a breath of fresh air in amongst the choking smog of the war.
“Su? Who’s this?” One of the boys asked, frowning at him.
“This is Sergeant Jack Manchester.” Susan introduced. “Jack, these are my brothers and sister, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy.”
Jack offered his hand to Peter, then to Edmund, and then to Lucy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He said sincerely, and then returned his attention to Susan. “I was hoping I’d run into you again, maybe get your permission to buy you a drink, this time?” He asked, and it came out a little tentative, because she still didn’t look nearly as at ease as she had when they’d first met.
“You mean you didn’task permission the first time?” Peter demanded, glowering.
Definitely a big brother, that one, Jack thought with a grin. “I asked forgiveness, instead.” He replied cheerfully.
“Oh, thatJack.” Lucy said wickedly. “I should have known when you bowed.” She added, nudging Susan, who was going ever so slightly pink. “Mum went ballisticwhen she heard Susan talking about you, you know.”
Jack blinked. Would parental disapproval account for how wary Susan seemed right now? Not that he could imagine whythey wouldn’t like him, unless they were some of the people who hated Americans. He could whip out his ‘noble’ English lineage if that would help. “I’m not that scruffy, am I?” He asked, playfully looking down at himself as if checking for dirt or mis-buttoned clothes, and then peeking back up at Susan, looking for a proper answer.
“Not at all.” Susan assured him, and therewas that bright, sharp lady he’d met last time. She was trying to hide her smile, and the appreciative look she cast him, but she wasn’t trying that hard, and it made Jack beam at her in hope that maybe he hadn’t blown this before there even wasa ‘this’.
“No, I think she was more upset about your age.” Edmund interjected, earning himself a truly fierce glare from Susan. He smiled back innocently.
Jack blinked again. “My… age?” He asked. “I’m only twenty-eight.” He pointed out, cautious and bewildered. Susan might be a little younger than him, but not by more than four or five years. He’d thought as much in the pub, particularly when she laughed, that she was maybeon the wrong side of twenty, but he doubted it. Only, he realised, looking at her now, that she stilllooked like she was maybe on the wrong side of twenty.
Susan wasn’t quite meeting his gaze, and she looked… unhappy. Lips pressed into a thin line, and expression carefully neutral in a way that Jack didn’t believe for an instant. “Ten years.” Edmund murmured thoughtfully. “That’s not quite as bad as Mum was afraid of, I think.”
Ten years. That meant that when Jack had met her, when Jack had teased and flirted and fallen just a little bit in love with her, Susan had been fifteen. It made him feel dizzy. After all, he’d started fights with the sort of creeps who would leer after his little sister that way, and Susan was the same age as Ruth.
That brought Jack’s train of thought to a screeching halt. Because trying to put Susan and Ruth next to each other and thinking of them as the same age just… didn’t seem to want to workin his mind. Susan had notbehaved like a fifteen year old in that pub. Not even a little bit. He wondered, giving Susan a slightly closer look, just how old she’d be on the other side of a mirror.
“At least I’m not as bad as Great-Uncle Tarrant.” Jack said, and then snorted, because, wow, that was an understatement, even if it was hard to gauge the exact age difference when some days he was actually younger than Great-Aunt Alice.
“How bad is Great-Uncle Tarrant?” Lucy asked curiously.
It was a bit of a struggle to do the maths. Underland didn’t really agreewith things like maths. “I’m pretty sure that, chronologically, Great-Aunt Alice is more than twenty years younger than him.” Jack answered, because that was as exact as he could get, and then he brightened as an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to him. “If you wanted, you could come meet them? We’re doing Sunday roast tomorrow, and the whole family’ll be there.” He offered to Susan, who looked just as shocked as she had when he’d called out to her earlier.
“You want me to meet your family?” Susan asked cautiously.
Jack nodded, smiling warmly. “I think they’d love you.” He told her, entirely honestly, and didn’t add the follow up that was sitting on the tip of his tongue; I think I could love you, my gentle queen.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Peter said, which startled Jack a little, since Peter didn’t seem to like him very much. The clap on the shoulder Peter then gave him was a little too rough to be called friendly. “We’ll be there.”
Ah, Jack thought, amused. Not letting his sister go off with a strange man into foreign territory alone, that’swhat that was about. “The more the merrier.” Jack assured him, and only realised just how right he’d been to say it when Peter wasn’t the only one who relaxed. Besides, it was true. If he was bringing Susan, then a good portion of the guest list from Underland probably shouldn’t come, and that meant that Lynn was going to make far too much food for just the ordinary human-like people. Three more mouths to feed would barely make a dent.
He gave them his address, promised them again that everyone would be delighted to meet them, bowed again to Susan and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand in farewell, and jogged off home with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.
---
Tavan was finding it increasingly hard to sit still. Lynn reached across the table and put her hand over his, and it was only then that he realised he’d been fiddling with his cuff to the point of fraying it. Sheepishly, he tucked his hands out of sight under the table, and Lynn rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re fretting so, Tavan. Edmund’s already proven he’s not going to baulk at a bit of Underlandish magic.” She pointed out, going back to doing the household accounts.
Edmund had done a lot more than that, Tavan thought. Edmund had proven to be brilliantly sharp-witted, curious, and adaptable. Tavan didn’t think he’d ever once heard the phrase ‘but that’s not how that works’ or any of the derivatives from him, and he’d thought up as many of the more shocking things about Underland that he could, just to make sure. Edmund had figured him out in a hot second, of course, because Edmund was brilliant, but he hadn’t been upset. He just looked sneakily amused in that way he had, and asked drolly if he’d passed the test.
Tavan had kissed him.
It was only after, when Edmund had crawled into his lap and quite thoroughly marked up his neck, and rumpled his shirt, that Tavan remembered that he was in Upland, and the belated panic hit. Edmund had taken one look at his poleaxed expression, and said, in a fond murmur; “You’re fine. I don’t think bigotry is the natural order of things, either.”
Tavan had beamed at him. “Yeah, ye passed the test.”
So now, Edmund had an invitation to Underland. Which would be fine, it would be great. Except. Except Tavan had thought he’d be taking Edmund to see Iplam, to see the flower fields and show him Tavan’s study. Maybe to meet Grandma. And sure, Grandma was scary, but she was still family. He hadn’t counted on Her Majesty The White Queen insisting, all wide-eyed innocence, that Edmund “simply mustcome to Marmoreal and meet the wholefamily.”
Which meant that Edmund was going to be subject to meeting the Queen of Underland on his very first trip there. And, yes, Queen Lilibeth was like an aunt to Tavan, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the very literal heart and soul of the land, and that was intimidating no matter how sweet and gentle she, of course, was.
The doorbell rang, and Tavan jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste, and rushed to get the door. Edmund was, as always, a lovely sight, and his shy, sly little smile as he stepped over the threshold was as charming as ever. He was unfailingly polite to Lynn, and if Tavan didn’t know him, he would never have been able to tell that Edmund was actually quite eager to get on with things, he was so cordial and patient.
Still, he did know better. Quite a lot better, actually, so he gave his cousin an apologetic grin and said; “So sorry tae rush off, Lynn, but we’ve an appointment we just cannae be late for.” while dragging Edmund not too subtly towards the stairs. Edmund laughed, and Lynn waved them off with a roll of her eyes, calling after them that Lilibeth would never be so crass as to be impatient.
Which was true, but still, her disappointment if you caused her to considersomething as uncharitable as impatience could be crushing. “Lilibeth?” Edmund questioned as they made for the spare room.
“Ah…” Tavan grimaced. “The White Queen.”
Edmund flinched perceptibly, and Tavan faltered a little, concerned. “Sorry. Bad memories. Why is she the WhiteQueen?” He asked cautiously.
“Tha’d be because she’s the moral center o’ Underland. White for purity, open-mindedness, compassion.” Tavan replied thoughtfully, and then looked at Edmund again, checking on him, because his reaction had been unusual, to say the least.
Edmund was nodding, though, expression the same intense curiosity he always got about all things Underlandish. “Some cultures associate white with death and winter.” He pointed out.
Tavan laughed a little. “Well, don’t tell Lily that. Not that the Queen can be anything but hospitable tae any o’ the seasons, but I think she might do something un-queen-like if you suggested she was supposed tae represent winter. She loves her roses far too much for that.”
Edmund relaxed properly at that, and just in time, too, because they’d reached the mirror, and Tavan paused to take a bracing breath before stepping through. Lilibeth, of course, hadn’t listened to a single word of Tavan’s request for a modicum of privacy, and had invited what looked like half the court to come meet Tavan Hightopp’s beloved.
Exasperated, but not surprised, Tavan turned back and stuck his head and one arm through the mirror, holding out a hand in invitation. Edmund grinned as he took Tavan’s hand and allowed him to pull him gently through the mirror. But as he passed through the rippling surface, something strange happened. Edmund Pevensie stepped into the mirror, but the man who stepped out on the other side into the White Queen’s court was no London school boy.
Edmund was almost as tall as Tavan, now, with a touch of dark stubble over his jaw and a silver circlet gleaming in his dark hair. His clothes, too, were different. They looked like they belonged here, a fine tunic with a crest in the shape of a lion on his breast, and leather breeches tucked into high boots, and a sword on his hip that his other hand fell to perfectly naturally.
Tavan quite lost his breath at the sight of him.
Edmund’s breath caught a beat later, and he looked down at himself, even as his free hand left his sword to touch cautiously at the circlet – the crown, it was definitely a crown– on his head, and then ghost down over the corner of his jaw. And then he smiled, so beatifically that Tavan’s breath caught all over again, and he actually felt a little weak-kneed when Edmund turned that smile on him and offered him his arm. He took it, of course, and subtly guided Edmund over to where Lilibeth was rising to her feet. The crowd of familiar faces parted before them like they never would have if it had just been Tavan. Or if it had been Tavan and Edmund as he’d looked on the other side of the looking glass.
Lilibeth rose to the occasion magnificently, despite the confusion, and was all smiles as she greeted Edmund. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a properintroduction.” She lilted curiously.
“Your Majesty.” Edmund greeted, inclining his head respectfully, but notably notbowing. “It seems I am, once again, King Edmund the Just, of Narnia.”
---
Benji loved it when Lucy came to stay at Pemberley. Somehow, she lit the place up, and made everything that was familiar to him new and exciting again. She ran barefoot through the woods and taunted him into going skinny-dipping in the lake with her and taught him new dances under the watchful gazes of his ancestor’s portraits in the gallery.
She never stayed for long. That wasn’t her way, and Benji didn’t mind. Sometimes, he went with her when she left, whether that was travelling to far-flung places to meet new people and learn new languages, or to meetings and charities and projects closer to home, watching her throw her considerable will against any and all problems she came across, but sometimes he didn’t. And they both liked it like that.
That, Benji thought, was the thing he loved best about Lucy. Loving her was never a trap, never a cage, never a duty. She was a wild thing and she would not be tamed, and in turn, never once tried to tame him, and never asked for more than he could give.
He got a little caught up in it, caught up in herand her way of life, riding the high of being known, so clearly and effortlessly, by someone who shared his feelings and values. Which is why it came as a complete shock to him when, on the first evening of Lucy’s third stay at Pemberley, when his father leaned forwards a little and said; “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Benji, what the hold up is.”
“With what?” Benji asked.
“The engagement, of course!” Father replied, and reality crashed back onto Benji with a feeling like being submerged in ice-water. At his elbow, Lucy went suddenly still. An alarming thing, given she was usually always so full of movement.
“What engagement?” Benji asked, half genuinely bewildered, although he had a creeping sense that his family had gotten the wrong idea, because they never had understood when he tried to explain what it was about the girls he stepped out with that put him off so badly every time, and half stalling for time.
“Benji, darling, please.” Mother said, fondly exasperated. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”
“Don’t mistake us, we’re very happy you’ve found someone!” Father added. “But your mother is right, you’ve been very obvious about how much you like Miss Pevensie.” His lips pursed with something that was half way between amusement and disapproval. “A little tooobvious, sometimes. You’d better hurry up and make an honest woman out of her, or people will begin to gossip.”
“I beg your pardon,” Lucy said, before Benji could shake the feeling of a noose tightening around his neck and find the breath to speak for himself, “but I’m afraid you’ve all got rather the wrong idea.” She said it in her High Society Voice, which was a sure sign she was sharpening her metaphorical claws. “I’ve no intent to marry. At all. Ever.”
“You’re young yet, my dear.” Mother said, looking a little concerned. “I know marriage can seem intimidating. Lord knows you and Benji are very alike in that regard, but it’s a wonderful thing to find the right person to support you through life.” She shared a loving look with Father. “You shouldn’t let something like that, with someone who understands you, pass you by just because you’re nervous.”
Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. Benji suspected she was praying for patience. “I’m not letting anything pass me by.” She said sharply, a flash of fire in her eyes as she opened them again, the smile on her lips a challenge more than any sort of expression of happiness. “I appreciate having Benji in my life very much.”
Father chuckled, while Mother went a little pink at the rather salacious tone Lucy said the last two words in. Joan snorted, derisive, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a very unkind sound, and Benji startled, because he’d thought Joan and Lucy got on. They were of a similar age, and a similar temperament, and had had many a passionate argument about one subject or another, sparring with ideas in a way that Benji was entirely unsuited for. “He’s not the only person you’ve been appreciating, though, is he?” She asked pointedly.
The whole table went still. Benji’s other two sisters turned to stare at Lucy, suddenly resembling nothing so much as hyenas staring down prey. But Lucy couldn’t be preyif she tried, and met the sudden threatening stares with a complete lack of shame. In fact, her chin kicked up a little in stubborn, fierce pride. Benji almost smiled to see it, but the flicker of admiration was quickly dampened by the thick tension in the air. “Joan?” He asked carefully. “What’s this about?”
“You didn’t tell him?” She asked of Lucy. “You swore to me you would.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows, then smiled. “Benji?” She called, and Benji hummed an acknowledgement, wary of opening his mouth again lest he be talked over. Again. “Joan walked in on me kissing Viscount Cranbrook’s son at that wedding last weekend.”
Benji blinked, startled by that reminder and a little uncomfortable at having such things discussed at the dinner table, with all his family sitting nearby. Then, he began to realise why Joan was looking so very upset. Why everyonewas looking so very upset, actually. “Yes?” He said, deliberately playing obtuse. “You already told me about that.” He paused to smile faintly. “In vivid detail.”
Joan dropped her fork. Father choked on his wine.
“Benjamin Percival Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Mother snapped, putting her own wine glass down with a very inelegant thump. “Such things are notappropriate dinner conversation!”
Benji felt veryindignant about being scolded for something that wasn’t his fault. At all. “Why am Igetting scolded? Joanie’s the one who brought it up!” He paused, feeling a little guilty, because Joan had been trying to be a good sister, to protect him, even if she had been making assumptions., and it felt a little unfair to throw her under the bus after that. So before Mother could start scolding again, he turned to his sister. “Thanks for worrying about me, though, but it really is fine. Lucy did tell me what she was about. She always does.”
There was another one of those stunned silences. Benji was really getting tired of them, and this time he couldn’t even tell what had prompted it. “You mean she’s done this before?” Joan demanded, sounding more bewildered than scandalised, which at least cleared that up.
“Yes?” Benji offered, looking around the table. Everyone else looked significantly more scandalised, and a bit insulted, whether that was on his behalf or the family’s, he couldn’t tell, and it made him feel a stranger in his own home all of a sudden. “Why are you all so damn surprised?” He blurted out. “I told youhow trapped it all makes me feel, with girls who are all thinking of marriageand one and onlyand forever. I can’t even tell what I my favourite foodis going to be on any given day, never mind who my favourite personis going to end up being next year, or the year after that!”
Joan was the only one who had the decency to look a little shame-faced. The others just looked vaguely appalled.
Except Lucy, of course. Who washis favourite person, and might even stay that way for the rest of his life. But still, the idea of trapping her in that role, of binding her to him and him to her in any way more than a simple question asked every day they happened to be together – ‘do you want?’ with no demand upon the answer being yes – was abhorrent.
Lucy just giggled, and reached out to lace their fingers together. “Why not everyperson?” She suggested cheerfully.
“I haven’t met every person.” Benji pointed out as solemnly as he was able, with his lips persistently trying to twitch up into a smile.
“Yet.” Lucy countered brightly. “And on that subject!” She declared enthusiastically, banishing the weight of the previous conversation and his family’s judgement as easily as a spring breeze scattering morning mists. “I was thinking about going to help the relief efforts in Morocco, and I thought you might like to come this time?”
#Chronicles of Narnia#pevensie siblings#crossovers#Peter Pan#Alice in Wonderland#Pride and Prejudice#Peter Pevensie#Jane Darling#Susan Pevensie#Edmund Pevensie#Lucy Pevensie#Next Gen OCs#Queer Pevensies#Demi!Peter#Bi!Susan#Gay!Edmund#Poly!Lucy
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christmas alphabet - spencer reid
a/n: request: this is just fluff, no warnings in place. enjoy!!
A = After Dark
(a date after dark? late night cuddles? surprise mistletoe?)
On cold winter evenings, when Spencer is not travelling for work, the two of you like to cuddle up on the coach under a fluffy blanket. A cup of hot chocolate in hand; with an even number of marshmallows each. The night is either spent discussing both of your days in detail or watching old Christmas classics, like Miracle on 34th Street for example.
B = Baking
(how does baking sweets go? for or with someone?)
The brunette doctor is skilled at literally anything he sets his mind to, but baking is not his forte. The kitchen always ends up a huge mess, and whatever concoction he was attempting is dangerous to eat. However, Spencer enjoys baking with you. Together you make a quite the team and the gingerbread cookies are a big hit with the rest of his team.
C = Cold
(it’s cold out! how do they react to the freezing winter air? does someone else help with fighting the cold?)
Spencer enjoys the lower temperatures, they’re a nice contrast to sunny stuffy Las Vegas where he grew up. You on the other hand struggle with the crispy icy air and often find yourself stealing his scarf for extra warmth when you’re out and about.
D = Date
(christmas date! how is it asked? where do they go?)
You ask the brunette agent to go ice-skating with you. Spencer is reluctant at first but you hold onto him tight and any fears wash away. You whirl together around the rink in slow circles, simply enjoying the moment.
E = Evening Dance
(a night at a ball? or maybe just silly dancing in the kitchen?)
Spencer catches you one wintery morning humming along to Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley. He gently takes your hand in his and the two of you slowly sway around the living room.
F = Fireplace
(how do they spend their time by the fire? hang stockings? fall asleep on each other?)
The two of you bought stockings with your initials, a lovely red pair with a fuzzy top. Since there is no fireplace at your place Spencer hung them underneath your mounted television. And whenever you feel like cozying up on the coach together you simply turn on a ten-hour fireplace video on YouTube.
G = Grateful
(how grateful are they to spend time with others? enjoy being alone or with others?)
The hazel-eyed doctor is extremely grateful to spend time with you, not only over the holidays. While he likes the occasional meet-up with his team for after work drinks at their favourite bar, Spencer definitely prefers spending time with you alone. He's loves comfortable company more than anything.
H = Hosting Family
(how does family work? are they invited to others, or stay with their s/o?)
While Spencer would love to spend Christmas with his mom, his unpredictable hours don’t usually allow him to make set plans. Therefore instead you decide that you will spend the holidays with your family, and if by chance he is free to join he will.
I = Invitation
(a sudden invitation comes up! what’s it for? how do they react?)
An invitation arrives for dinner with his team and their loved ones on a faithful Saturday in December. Of course Spencer asks you to accompany him; he wouldn't have it any other way. You’ve met his friends before so you shouldn't be nervous, but yet for some reason you were. This occasion felt different somehow. More intimate.
J = Just In Time
(the present arrives just barely in time! how do they rush up to hand it to them? do they wait for the perfect time?)
Spencer spent weeks trying to decide what to get you for Christmas. Nothing he thought of seemed right. You weren’t a material person, which is one of your many qualities he adored. He wanted your present to be thoughtful, he wanted something meaningful. About a week before the holidays, he came across a website that sold customisable star maps. He ordered one then and there - a map that showcased the stars the night you first met.
K = Kiss
(how do they react to a kiss? flustered? happy? surprised?)
When Spencer first kissed you it was gentle, almost timid. As if he was afraid to fully let himself go. Now when he kisses you he does so with all his might and immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible.
L = Lights
(christmas lights are important! how do they hang them? around the house? on the tree? outside? what kind of shenanigans go on?)
The brunette agent had given you a key to his apartment. One night in late November he comes home after working a case to find you already there, tangled in a rope of lights. You tried to surprise him by slightly decorating his place for the holidays, but instead found yourself entwined. Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the sight. He sets off to help you; after taking a picture to commemorate this precious moment.
M = Mistletoe
(how do they react to suddenly being placed under a mistletoe with their crush/lover?)
He gets flustered at first, mainly because you’re in public and everyone is watching. But the second your lips brush against his the whole world dissolves and he gets completely lost in you.
N = Naughty or Nice?
(how has your character been this past year? are they a trickster or a good of heart?)
Definitely good of heart. Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met. He’s caring, he always puts you first and stops at nothing to make you happy. The only time you could describe him as naughty would be in bed.
O = Opening Presents
(how do they react to opening presents?)
Eagerly, although very neatly. Even though he is extremely excited to see what you got him, the hazel-eyed doctor rips off the wrapping paper so precisely that it is actually good to reuse.
P = Packaging
(wrapping presents is never easy. how do they fair?)
Packing presents with Spencer is just as organised. All the pieces of the festive wrapping paper are a perfect size for each gif and the ribbon is measured before cut to the correct length; so that there is no waste.
Q = Question
(how do they confess? is it the big question, or something smaller but just as intimate?)
“Y/N?” Spencer catches your attention. You look up from the book in your lap and meet his honey gaze. “Yes?” “How would you feel about spending next years holiday in a cabin somewhere? Just the two of us?” A smile spread across your facial features. “I thought you didn't like to plan that far ahead, especially around Christmas time.” You teased. He smiled back at you. “I don’t, but with you I can break a few of my rules.”
R = Relaxing
(how do they relax with their s/o? the best ways? the cutest?)
Watching Christmas movies, cooking, discussing various topics, or sitting in comfortable silence and reading. Simply enjoying each others company.
S = Snow
(how do they like the snow?)
Spencer likes to share uncommon facts about the snow; more than the weather phenomenon itself. “Snow is actually translucent, not white.” The brunette doctor chimed as the two of you looked out the window admiring the first snowfall of the season. “It’s the light reflected off a snowflake’s faceted surface that creates its white appearance.”
T = Tree
(how do they decorate their tree?)
Gold fairy lights intertwined with a simple white wreathe hung loosely around the Christmas tree at your apartment. Mixed between the more traditional-looking gold bobbles were various fancier ornaments that reminded both of you of your relationship, such as: a stack of books, R2-D2, fast food items, gin bottle, a coffee cup.
U = Undying Love
(how did they fall in love? what was the real moment they found out?)
Your constant smile and positive outlook on life, not to mention your delicate beauty, lured Spencer in right from the start. He fell for you hard and pretty early into your relationship. And now not a day goes by where he doesn't tell you just how much he loves you.
V = Villa
(how is it in their house? festive? normal? candles?)
Apart from the decorations you had plopped around, the doctors apartment remains normal. The two of you have focused more of your time and energy decorating your place - from the living room to the kitchen and bedroom, there is even a miniature Santa in the bathroom.
W = Wish
(what is their biggest wish for the coming year? or in general?)
Spencers biggest wish for the coming year would be to keep evolving in this relationship with you. He hopes to grow even closer with you, learn more about you and explore the world with you (if he ever gets the time off work).
X = eXcitement
(general excitement about christmas? love it? hate it?)
He’s excited because you’re excited. Seeing you so happy around the holiday season warms his heart and he hopes he’ll get to cherish these moments with you for years to come.
Y = You
(how does their s/o react to them being beautiful? handsome? to them in general in the christmas season? how in love are they?)
The brunette doctor constantly reminds you how perfect you are. Whether you’re dressed up for an evening at the bar with friends or simply sitting on the sofa in a matching wintery pyjama set, Spencer will be sure to point out just how beautiful you look. You of course do the same. There is something about hearing you say how handsome he looks that makes his heart skip a beat.
Z = Zzzz…
(how do they sleep? lots of blankets? none? cuddled closely to their loved one?)
Wrapped up in a large duvet and blankets mainly because you get cold during the night. Spencer’s arm is placed gently yet firmly around you. He holds you close, quietly snoring into the crook of your neck.
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masterlist
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid headcanon#dr spencer reid#dr spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid x you#christmas fic#christmas fluff#christmas headcanon#christmas alphabet
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