toomanyfictionalboyfriends - Tumblr blog

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 1 day

Text

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.

There you were.

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.

From: Richie

‘Look at table nine.’

Sugar huffed.

To: Richie

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?

To: Richie

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’

From: Richie

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

601 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 7 days

Text

James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.

Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.

Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.

Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!

910 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 30 days

Text

No need for mail

Masterlist

Badger express ★

Lorenzo Berkshire x Hufflepuff! reader (fem)

Summary: While doing a school project, Lorenzo tries his luck. With the help of the wind and the sun, he falls harder and harder.

Warnings: no use of y/n,

Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) And just so you know, it always has been him. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ( and yes I know he's a slut, not here tho, maybe next time.)

word count: 1.1k

Song: Married In Vegas - The Vamps

Light breeze messes with his hair. He does not care as much as his attention is on the mooncalf nest that rests below the cliff. The girl next to him is doing the same. Her hair is held together in a braid with a yellow ribbon wrapped into it. They are both lying down at the edge of the cliff, one wrong move and they would be rolling down. He turns his face to her.

“Why are we doing this?” He whispers, yes whispered as he has already been scolded once for speaking at his normal volume. Apparently, it would scare the weird animal away and that is not what they want.

“It's a school project, I told you that.” She says, her gaze not moving away from the big-eyed cows.

“I don't think Hagrid would care if we pulled everything out of a book.” He argues back but knows there is no way out of this. He's finally being let in on a Hufflepuff sacred. No wonder they always get the best marks in ‘care for magical beasts’. They simply just vibe with them. The girl just shook her head at him.

The girl scooted a little bit more over the edge. Lorenzo's hand flew over to her and grabbed the back of her shirt. For a witch, she does not have even an ounce of self-preservation in her body. A small rock fell from their shuffling and landed near the nest. Scaring all the mooncalf, making them run and hide.

“look what you did!” the girl says and, with the help of Lorenzo, sits up.

“Me? I'm not the one trying to throw myself off the cliff!” he says, now too, sitting.

The girl scoffs and gets up to make her way over to the blanket where they set their stuff. He makes his way to her and sits down right next to her. Their knees touching. They both pulled out their notebook, he wrote down his observations and she finished her sketch of the animal.

Silence falls upon them as they both do their own thing. Lorenzo's eyes shift to see her sketch, only to see a familiar face. He does not know if he should call her out or not. But since he considered himself her best friend, a fact she constantly denies, he decided to do the first option.

“AYO, is that me!” Startled, the girl closes the notebook so fast it makes a thud so loud that he's certain the mooncalf all hid again. He tried to take the notebook from her, but she threw it on the other side of the blanket. She restraints one of his hands and the other one lands by her back.

When Lorenzo noticed how close they were, a smile crept on his face. She noticed too, as his legs curled a little. She turns her body to face him more and places her other hand near his, probably so she can quickly grab it if he tries something.

He noticed her eyes were scanning his face. A breeze messes with his hair again. The girl blinks and lets his arm go, going to fix it for him. He places his, now free, arm on her thighs, squeezing them to make sure his arm lands where he wants it to without actually looking.

The two friends stay silent. Not an awkward one, but a comfortable one they always seem to find themself when they are together.

“You're so pretty, I wish I could get you pregnant.” She breaks the silence. Lorenco can do nothing but chuckle. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. His arms now sneaking around her waist. Pulling her closer to his body.

“Ditto” He murmurs. He can feel her shake with laughter. She was now playing with his hair, something he could let her do all day if he could. That's why he peels himself off of her. She just looked at him confused. Lorenzo just shakes his head and moves a little, before ploping his head down on her lap. He makes sure to grab her arms and slam it on his head for good measure.

She looks at him with a shocked expression before sighing. Nonetheless, she does what he wishes for and plays with his hair. He flashes her a smile full of pearly whites.

“You're annoying.” She says looking down at him. he pokes her side making her squirm a bit.

“But you still love me.” he sings back to her. She does not answer to him. They fall into silence again. The girl is not looking at him. Something in the distance caught her attention. He did not mind, as if she were to look down on him, she would see a fool in love.

A sun framed her head and made it look like a halo. He was smitten.

“So you know how you just wanna be friends?” He says making her give him attention. Looking down at him her arm came to a stop.

“Yeah?”

“That's cool and all, but I'm like in love with you.”

“Same” The girl just breaths out. Lorenzo did not expect her to say that. In a second he has decided he is not letting her change her mind.

He shoots up and cages her with one of his arms while the other one goes to her neck and pulls her closer. He does not give her a chance to register what is going on.

Their lips met, softly than someone would expect with how fast Lorenzo was with his moves. She took a few seconds before kissing him back, her arms cradling his face.

The kiss was sweet and slow, a fairytale-like.

Soon they ran out of breath, the girl gently pushing Lorenzo away as he tried to chase her into another kiss. Still, with closed eyes, he lends his forehead to hers.

“That was-” A low whistle cuts him off. Cursing under his breath, Lorenzo opened his eyes and straightened out. there stood four of his friends. A whine leaves him.

“AYO I DID NOT KNOW YOU HAVE A GAME LIKE THAT.” Draco makes sure that he can be heard all the way back to Hogwarts. Multiple praises and hollers sound on the little cliff they found themself on.

All the boys make their way to Lorenzo, lifting him up and repeatedly tossing him in the air. All he could do was catch a glimpse of the girl with a yellow ribbon in her hair laughing. Not even noticing the love note falling out of his pocket and getting lost in the wind.

tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

344 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 1 month

Note

Hii hope you’re doing well, I was wondering if I could request a criminal minds blurb where reader is Penelope’s best friend and they’ve met for lunch in a cafe near Quantico, and reader is telling Penny about this new guy she hooked up with a few nights ago, reader tells Penny how big the guy was and then a few minutes later Spencer walks in and reader is like “P omg that’s the guy!!” And gestures towards Spencer who’s the only person ordering at the counter? I just feel like Penny would be equal parts both shocked and horrified that her sweet innocent boy Spence has a sex life but also that he’s HUNG?? I literally love you and all your Spencer works and I feel like you’d write this perfectly 🫶🫶

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Penelope is absolutely enraptured by the play-by-play you're murmuring to her over the low din of the cafe's patronage. The whirring and grinding of the machines behind the counter only further aid in your attempt to keep your conversation private, and you can smell sweet strawberries on the bubbly blonde when you lean in to give her details.

"And he reached for his fly- ooh, Penny, the way his arms looked," You gush, remembering the thick veins that had corded his bone while he'd wrestled with his belt, "He whipped his belt out of the way, and- stop!" You urge her when she wriggles her brows at you, "He took his pants off, Penny, and I swear to god I've seen thighs thinner than that dick."

Her resulting squeal is much less hushed than you'd managed to keep the rest of your conversation, and you swat at the arm that's not holding her coffee. She gets the message but resorts to stamping her feet beneath the table instead, a repeated clicking that blends in much better with the mechanical whirring of the baristas' handiwork.

"He was so thick, and Jesus- Penny, he was long, too, just big all around," You recall, insides throbbing with a phantom ache at the memory of what you'd taken last night, "I swear he had me seeing stars," You sigh, glancing down at the pale pink ring of lip gloss around the mouth of your cup, "I'd beg him to come over again tonight, but I think I need a week to recover."

"A week," She breathes dreamily, "I could barely feel the last guy I had."

"Oh, I could feel him," You laugh, "It's like I still can, I'm pretty sure he bruised- oh fuck!"

"What?" Penelope's brow dips instantly, concern etched into her pretty features, "What's wrong?"

"It's him," You grip her hand, nails digging into her skin, "It's the guy from last night!"

"Big dick dude?" She asks, and your frantic nod confirms her theory.

She tries to be subtle, bless her, when she turns to see him, but when the only person that she sees standing in line for a drink is her coworker, her brain chugs along slower than normal.

Where's big dick dude?

Oh, Spencer's here!

I don't see big dick dude.

Spencer is-

You're not sure even the most talented actor could ever recreate the sheer horror swimming in her gaze when she turns to face you again. Her eyes are blown wide and her mouth, lined in a pretty fuchsia paste, is downturned in a grimace.

"Please tell me you're not talking about the skinny mess in the sweater vest."

"That's exactly who I'm talking about!" You gush, trying to avoid his gaze lest he thinks you're trying to follow him around, "Penny, isn't he dreamy?"

"That's- oh my god," She recalls your descriptions, thicker than thighs, longer than you've ever seen, "I have to resign."

2K notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 1 month

Note

What about if in Eddie and Roan, Eddie and Reader' are both occupied with wedding stuff or smth else and they left Roan with either Wayne or Steve and Robin, and it's just fluffy fluff about them being the best uncles/grandpa ever?

Roan wraps her arms around his neck. “Why can’t I come?”

Her dad has pretty much always felt like an extension of her. He’s dad. So when she doesn’t get to go places with him that aren't work or school, it doesn’t make sense. She’d care less if Uncle Wayne wasn’t too tired for a slumber party, because her Uncle Wayne is the best uncle ever.

“Baby,” Eddie says, in that soft sweet voice that means she’s being let down easy, “you can’t come because it’s a lot to do in one day, okay?” He encourages her face back. He’s on his knees to be her height, but he’s still taller. “I know you want to come, but it won’t be any fun at all. We have to go argue with people all day. Y/N’s gonna put on her scary mommy pants and I’m gonna have to back her up because she’s my girl.”

Roan just looks at him. Eddie grins.

“Okay, but will you bring me something?” she asks in a whisper.

You laugh where you’re standing in the doorway behind him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

She leans in to whisper in his ear. When she pulls away, he’s squaring his expression into something quite fierce. She’s confident she’ll have what she asks for as soon as he’s home.

You and Eddie kiss her goodbye, hands quick to intertwine as you walk down the driveway, though you take your hand back to wave at her with both hands when you realise she’s waiting on the porch for you to go.

Steve holds her shoulder. “Should we go back inside?”

Roan tips her head back. “Steve…”

“What, babe?”

“Can we get ice cream?”

He holds her gaze. “Maybe. Depends.”

“On what?”

“We have dinner first, and you have to eat two vegetables. Because last time your dad said I’m terrible at looking after you.”

“You’re not terrible,” Roan says, shaking her head vehemently.

Roan offers him her arms and he picks her up. When she was a baby Steve and Robin used to call her Princess Ro on account of her never being put down, but that was usually because she’d been traded from arm to arm rather than her being demanding. She was demanding, of course, she was a baby.

“Thank you, Roan. I know I’m not terrible, your dad just loves giving me a hard time.”

“He does that to me too.”

“He does not,” Steve chastises, “your dad is a great dad. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Me and dad don’t have secrets,” she says.

“I know, that’s why he’s a good dad.” Steve sighs forlornly. “Ew. Let’s be less sincere from now on. What movie do you wanna watch?”

“You have The Little Mermaid?”

Obviously Steve has The Little Mermaid. He plops Roan down on the couch and she balls herself up tightly. Steve thinks she might be a bit grouchy today, but it’s hard to say yet. He tries to nip it in the bud before it can start, wrapping her in the blanket she likes with the soft ends and cutting her a boat load of apples for peanut butter. “Thanks, Uncle Steve,” she says, stretching her legs out over his thigh. Steve squeezes one of her feet until she grumbles and pulls it away. “I forgot you do that.”

Steve laughs loudly. “Do what, babe?”

“You’re like dad. You aga-vate.”

“I do, huh?” he asks, patting her leg. “Sorry. Just teasing.”

“Mom says teasing is okay if it doesn’t hurt your feelings.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You hurt my foot.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing, because he knows it didn’t hurt too much.

“It’s okay. I don’t want feet, I want a fish tail.”

“You do not,” Steve says, squeezing under her knee. She grumbles more and kicks at him, a few of her apple slices sliding off of her plate and onto the blanket. She doesn’t notice.

Robin lets herself in not long after. She’s in sweatpants with her hair up, arms laden with soda and bags of chips. “Hey, Ro,” she says. Even when Roan was a baby, Robin has talked to her like she’s an adult. “You look comfortable. Did you miss me?”

Roan seems to have missed Robin lots —Robin sits down and within twenty minutes has Roan snuggled under her arm, another twenty and she’s giggling sleepily at the murderous chef trying to cook the Little Mermaid’s crab friend.

Steve and Robin are best friends, and great watchers, though it’s much easier to look after a kid when you’re allowed to spoil them. They feed Roan chips and soda (though they aren’t animals, the soda is limited to one small cup, and the chips are before a dinner that includes three different vegetables), and they let her jump on the couch and climb up on the kitchen counter to play with the soap dispenser.

Pick up time comes and passes. Roan sits kicking her feet on the kitchen table, her coat unzippered and her wellies hitting the chair. “Are they late?” she asks.

Steve offers her a slice of orange. “Yeah, babe, it looks like it.”

“Are they gonna never come back?”

“Of course they’re coming back,” Robin says, “your dad has no personality outside of you. He needs you to be happy.”

Roan smiles to herself. “Yes,” she agrees, taking a bite of her orange.

Steve kneels in front of her and pulls the two sides of her jacket together. “Your teeth are orange.”

Roan accidentally drops the orange rind out of her teeth. It rolls down her legs and hits him in the shirt, leaving a greeny tinged stain on his blue polo. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he says, zipping her coat to the collar and brushing her hair back away from her sticky cheeks gently, “I’ll just charge your dad extra.”

“You’re the best, Uncle Steve,” Roan decides.

He strokes her hair behind her ears. “You are the best, Roan. My favourite Munson ever.”

Her eyes light with joy. “Really?”

“Really truly.”

“That’s a bit controversial,” Robin says, clipping Roan’s backpack shut to house what was left of her chips.

“I don’t like Eddie and Wayne doesn’t tell me good job when I wash my hands.” Steve shrugs. “No competition.”

The phone rings. When Robin picks up, she says that it’s Eddie, and Eddie needs to talk to Steve, who, after a short conversation, passes the phone to Roan.

“Dad?”

“Hey, baby! Sorry we’re not there, we went to the wrong place for mom’s hair stuff and it was a disaster, we won’t be home for another hour, I’m sorry. Are you really mad?”

“I'm not really mad.”

“I’m bringing you a present, remember? So can you keep being a good girl for Uncle Steve? No shouting?”

Roan decides this is alright. Eddie tells her he loves her about six times and Roan hands the phone back up because she can’t reach the receiver, letting Steve hang up. She frowns at the floor, her head hanging, dark hair curling in front of her eyes.

“How about we make use of your shoes and coat and go get that ice cream I promised?” he suggests. “Anything you want. You did eat all your vegetables.”

Robin rolls her eyes. Roan slouches sadly into his legs, the beginnings of a smile on her lips when she looks up at him and asks, “Hot fudge?”

“As much hot fudge as you want,” he promises.

358 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

ooo i love that you’re giving me free reign over ideas for pregnant bombshell and spencer.. maybe something really angsty where reader’s hormones are getting the best of her and she’s just really pissed at spencer for absolutely no reason? hope that makes sense

thank you for requesting <3 pregnant!reader

“I’m serious, Spencer Reid, you better leave me alone,” you warn.

Spencer gawps. Morgan glances between you both in concern, having seen hundreds of your conversations over the years and never one this sour. “But I–”

“I’m not kidding.” You glare at him, press your hand to your mouth, and spin away from him to march up the steps to Hotch’s office.

Spencer attempts to follow you. Morgan holds him back with one hand to the chest. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Spencer watches you until you’re gone. He frowns, upset in his eyes and his model pout. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Is this a common occurrence?”

“No, never! But these last couple days she’s always angry with me.”

“It’s the baby hormones,” Morgan assures his friend, patting him and pushing him toward his desk. “Or you did something and don’t remember.”

“If I did, I really don’t.”

You stew in Hotch’s office. Morgan can imagine the conversation, your annoyance and Hotch’s light bemusement, your wondering if you’re being too harsh, and Hotch giving an amiable, neutral answer. Morgan can also imagine what Spencer thinks you’re doing, watching as his shoulders sink further and further down.

Spencer scratches a stressed hand through his hair. “I’ll go say sorry,” he says.

“Maybe that’s a good idea, but not yet. She needs time to cool down.”

Spencer frowns at his hands. “I don’t like when she’s mad at me like this. We’re always on the same page, I never have to guess what she’s thinking anymore.” He pulls at the neck of his shirt and his tight tie. “I feel like I’m twenty four again.”

“This is all new for her,” Morgan says. What Spencer doesn’t know is that he’s making this up as he goes. Spencer messed irretrievably for all he knows. “You just need to remember why she’s doing it in the first place, right? She’s loved you for years, one pregnancy induced moment of rage won’t change that. Probably.”

Spencer isn’t appeased. Worse when you emerge from Hotch’s office and walk straight to your desk without glancing Spencer’s way, and worse again when he attempts to talk to you and you shake your head. “Please, Spencer. Just leave me alone.”

Spencer spends the day in agony. The worry of what he’s done eats at him, and he attempts to make it up to you, ultimately making it worse. You frown at every cup of tea or water he brings you, glaring at the plate he serves you for lunch. The bullpen of the office sags under your fury. Spencer doesn’t eat a single bite all day.

It’s by chance that Morgan witnesses the full fallout on his way to the bathroom. You’re in the hallway just on the way to Penelope’s office with Spencer, who’s clearly followed you to give apologies and concern aplenty. He’s caught your hand.

“I don’t even know why you’re mad,” Spencer says hopelessly. He sounds heartbroken.

You look at your hands for a long while, seconds stretching and aching, before you hold your stomach and look to the side. “I’m sorry–” you say, cutting yourself off as your voice wobbles unsurely.

“What?” Spencer asks, startled.

“I don’t know,” —your breath shudders— “why I’m being so mean to you–”

“Angel–”

“I feel like I’m suffocating in my own skin and you’re just making me so angry hovering because I can look after myself, but I’m starting to think I can’t, and I look really stupid in my maternity clothes–”

“What’s wrong with your clothes?”

You huff sharply.

“I’m sorry,” he says, holding out his hands. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re just really pregnant right now and the hormones are messing with you,” —you scoff, but Spencer soldiers on— “I love how you look, and I love you even when you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry you feel claustrophobic. What can I do?”

Your glare softens slowly. “You’re not mad at me?”

“You’re mad at me, lovely.”

Morgan thinks that last bit is a nice touch. You wipe your blurry eyes and squeeze his hands, still breathing too fast and too hard but the anger having completely drained from your features, returning you to your usual beautiful state. You measure his gaze for a while, before resting your forehead on his chest, your bump in the way of a proper hug. “Do you still love me?” you ask quietly.

“No.” He laughs and kisses your temple, using his index finger to turn your face by your hairline carefully, giving him better view of your face. “Yeah, I still love you. I always do. I’m sorry I upset you that much, I’m not trying to smother you.”

“You didn’t, Spence, I upset myself, and I took it out on you… I’m sorry I was mean to you, earlier, you didn’t deserve it. It’s just hard.” You shake your head. “You never make me feel bad for being a diva and I wish you would.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

You sigh. “No, please keep being my sweetheart. Please.”

Spencer says something too quiet for Morgan to hear, but can be read from the lips as a promise as he sweeps his hand up and down your back.

1K notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

james x shy!gf where he wears those “i <3 my gf” shirts??

i used my sweet @criminalskies's famous line in here <3

"Please," You hiss, tugging at the two sides of James's jacket where he's left them unzipped, "Please keep your jacket on!"

"Darling, I didn't pay £50 for this shirt to be custom made not to wear it outside. Relax," James chides you, snatching both of your hands into his large one and disarming you as you try fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, "It's coming off, love, and it's going to be fine."

"For you!" You gush, valiantly attempting to dig your nails into his palm just enough for him to release you but not enough to leave markings on his hands, "No one's going to laugh at you for wearing it, they're going to laugh at me."

"Then I'll turn 'em into cream cheese!" James declares, flipping one side of his jacket off of his broad shoulder while skillfully keeping your hands tight in his own despite your persistent attempts to free yourself. His chest now reads as a jumble of mismatched letters and symbols, and you'd really like to keep it that way.

Once his left arm is free of the jacket he switches the hand with which he's holding your own, shimmying out of the other side of the garment. It drops to the floor but he's not concerned; he'll pick it up before you begin walking the length of the outdoor market you've scheduled a date at. Now that the jacket is no longer hiding his shirt he drops your hands, but not before giving you a pink-cheeked grin.

"James, please," You attempt one last time to appeal to any sense of pity that your boyfriend has, placing your hands over the large, black and red 'I ❤️ MY GIRLFRIEND' that's sprawled over his chest. It stands out starkly against the white tee but your hands are no match for it, not when he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you towards him. You try very hard not to notice the way that the muscles in his arms bulge against the black hem of the shirt sleeves- he doesn't deserve any ego boosts right now.

"Hush," He tuts, leaning in to kiss your disgruntled frown. You're uncooperative at best, but he perseveres despite your squirming. He draws back, "Now, I know you love running your hands all over my big beefy chest, but the people need to know. So drop 'em and let's brag about you, alright m'love?"

2K notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

Jake seresin doing that bathroom door thing to a sweet shy reader would be so cute😭😭

that bathroom door thing - i changed it up just a bit for the plot's sake! i hope you still enjoy it <3

Jake's forever grateful that Penny bought the Hard Deck, because it brought about changes that have only ever benefitted him. She's begrudgingly fond of him, so he drinks whenever he wants and pays his tab in grunt muscle when new shipments of booze are delivered and need to be hauled in. He also drives Amelia around to various after school activities, so Penny's rewarded him with his own personal set of keys in case she's waiting for pickup in the bar and can't lock up behind herself.

The bar is cleaner now than it was under previous management, which means more women are willing to set foot inside; something about the earlier gunk and grime drove them away. It's no longer a place for aviators to drink their sorrows away- it's fun, it's full, and it's family, something Jake cherishes more than he'll ever admit.

Those keys feel especially important in his pocket now as he watches you try the handle of the bathroom door, clearly in a rush. Jake's surprised that the bathroom isn't constantly occupied, what with the amount of liquor that gets consumed on a nightly basis, but some people might just be better at regulating themselves than others.

Apparently you're not one of them as you find the door locked, your face contorting into clear displeasure.

You scan the bar for Penny but- Jake realizes with a jolt down his spine, she's not here. She'd stepped out, and he'd been casually monitoring the counter to ensure that no one started touching anything that didn't belong to them.

"Coyote," Jake calls, catching his friend's attention from where he's crouched over the pool table, "Cover for Penny."

Usually the team would be annoyed at being interrupted, but Coyote is just as fond of Penny as Jake is, and he nods once, passing his cue over to Rooster. He takes up a seat opposite Jake, giving the man the chance to stand and make his way over to you.

"Hey there, darlin'," He greets, digging the keys out of his pocket, "You need'a get in there?"

"Uh, yeah, I do," You laugh sheepishly, watching intently as he slides the key into the door, "Oh my god, thank you, I couldn't find the bartender and I thought I was shit outta luck."

"I gotcha, honey," Jake grins, bicep flexing as he pushes open the door for you, "Come get me when you're done so I can lock back up, okay?"

"Alright," You agree, slipping into the bathroom and peeking through the door to call after him, "Thank you again!"

Jake beelines for the bar, reaching around the countertop to grab two bottles of beer. They're stored in an ice bucket, but he prefers them to the tap because they're quicker and easier.

"Hey!" Coyote barks, mad dogging him playfully, "You gonna pay for those, sir?"

"If these help me get that lady's number," Jake rushes back to the tables near the bathroom, sitting at one and setting the other bottle across from him, "I'll give Penny my life savings."

673 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

Another request from me 😅 again with Jake where he dates a girl with a similar personality to Bob (I imagine him to be quite and calm in everyday life, but he has another side that is sarcastic and quite perverse), and one time when Jake comes with her to the beach to meet the Dagger Squad, she's limping because he's "overworked" her so much, and he's covered in a lot hickeys and scratches on his back, and everyone's quite shocked, and they're having a lot of banter with the reader.

Additional advantages if she was about 10 years younger and was sister Bob or Natasha but I don't require it.

Thank you in advance 🤍

I fancied popping back to Jake a bit to refresh my mind while I work on my Astarion intimacy fic ~ I hope that's alright with y'all!

This isn't my best ever. I just felt like keeping it short and sweet to try and break my writer's block. Hopefully, you still enjoy it!

Cradle Snatcher - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x gn!Reader

Wordcount: 1,117 Warnings: Illusions to sex but no descriptions Notes: gn!reader, no use of physical descriptions or pronouns besides the reader being younger than Jake.

“When are we going to see y/n again? Don’t tell me they have dumped your ass already?” Coyote’s voice called over the bar table. Jake scoffed as he pushed off of the pool table, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his beer as he sat down across from him, watching Nat take her shot.

“They’ll come out again when they’re ready, you know they aren’t a fan of the loud music and pool scene.”

“Ah, so they have seen sense and left then?” Javy pushed back, smirking into his bottle as Jake shot him a cocky look, eyebrow raised.

“Left my bed? No, they’re probably still there waiting for me to get back,” he joked, smirking back as Javy’s eyes widened a little and he choked on his drink. He composed himself quickly as Jake stood again to rejoin the game.

“I still don’t know how you managed that one,” he reflected, standing too to lean against the table as Jake lined up the cue.

“Managed what?” Javy paused for a moment, picking his words carefully. “They’re just so different…”

“They’re like Bob,” Nat perked up, tired of watching her fellow pilot trip over his words.

“So?” Jake quizzed, stepping back from the table again and leaning against his cue.

“Well, someone like Bob is more likely to get with someone… well, like Bob.” Javy continued.

Jake paused for a moment before smiling to himself again. “Please, Baby on Board couldn’t keep up with them.” It was Nat’s turn to stifle a laugh.

“Keep up with a college grad that prefers to spend their nights at home with the dog than out with the squad? Isn’t that Bob’s idea of the perfect night?”

Jake stayed quiet, simply smiling to himself as he recalled the night before, and the night ahead you had promised. Stepping forward, he potted the final ball with a smirk, handed his cue to Javy, and downed the rest of his drink.

“Well, I better go keep them company then.” His smirk didn’t falter as he swung his jacket over his shoulders. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

“Goodnight!”

“Sleep well cradle snatcher,” Nat shouted over Javy, evidently biting back a laugh.

****

“Do you think they guys would mind if I tagged along to the beach?” you asked as you stretched out on the bed, watching as Jake threw on a t-shirt. He smiled at what you presumed was your suggestion, but with his eyes raking up your bare legs, you weren’t too sure.

“Why not. They were asking about you last night.”

You looked at him confused as you moved to stand up, only to be pinned down again as he leaned down onto the bed, his head naturally gravitating to the juncture of your jaw and throat as he placed a few quick kisses there. You couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling of his stubble. “Nothing bad, scouts honour,” he mumbled against your skin, continuing his kisses further down the column of your throat. “They just don’t think I’m right for you.”

You cocked your head a little, pulling away from his lips to look down at him. “Is this advice I should be listening to?” you joked, running your fingers through his still-messy hair.

“Well, if you think you would be better off with someone more your speed – someone like Bob, apparently – then maybe.”

You looked at him for another moment before you both started laughing, your giggle starting off as more of a snort. “And what did you say?”

“That he couldn’t keep up with you,”

“And you can, old man?” you teased, laughing harder as he pulled back to give you a disapproving look.

“If I didn’t know better I would have thought you were talking to Birdman. I’m only eight years older than you know.”

“Still a certified cradle snatcher.”

“You have been spending too much time with Nat.” “And not enough time with you, it seems,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Now, why don’t you prove to me you can still keep up?” The look in his eyes changed as you challenged him as his lips dropped down to your throat once again.

****

“Oh thank god, someone to have an intelligent conversation with,” Nat called as she spotted you walking over the sand towards the team huddling around the beer cooler. You sniggered as you flopped down in the sand beside her, thanking Bob quickly as he handed you a water from the cooler beside him.

“I didn’t think you played sports, y/n?” Bradley enquired with a somewhat knowing smile as Jake sat beside you. You looked at him puzzled as you sipped your drink.

“I don’t?” you asked more than stated as you looked towards Jake, wondering if he had said something when you weren’t around. His subtle smug look only gives you more questions than answers. Bradley didn’t look at you as he replied, instead opting to look out across the beach nonchalantly. “Oh, my mistake. How did you get that limp then? Nothing too serious, I hope.” Jake downright choked on his water as he tried to suppress a laugh, knowing Coyote’s eyes were boring into the side of his head as he caught on.

You could feel your skin heat up, and you knew it wasn’t the sand or the sun responsible. You were a little uncomfortable after the last two nights and this morning, but you didn’t realise it was noticeable. You would have shot back, or thought of some excuse if you had been so flustered. The others starting to snicker didn’t help.

“Come on, guys, that’s enough…” Bob started, registering how you shifted a little. He stopped mid-sentence as Jake pulled off his top, revealing a spattering of scratches and bruises that had certainly not been there an hour ago but had rapidly developed on the drive to the beach. Almost instantly, even Bob broke into a laugh.

“And here I was thinking he was the one overworking you,” Javy interjected.

“Please, at his age?” you snickered under your breath, watching your boyfriend grow more flustered as the attention turned to him. Javy’s near howl of laughter set you off too, as Jake flushed red but tried to brush it off. He always struggled with the attention he hadn’t directly drawn himself. You placed a reassuring hand behind his back as you leaned into him a little.

“Well, we’re on for a game of dogfight football, if the old man is up to it,”

Jake scoffed but started to stand up regardless. “You’re one to talk. Are you sure your joints can handle it?” He raises an eyebrow at the moustachioed man.

“Oh, it’s on.”

392 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

I'm in the mood for some Jake Hangman Seresin like marriage fluff

fem!reader

like that?

or maybe like that?

Jake knocks at the door and waits until your best friend appears, holding closely the door so he can't see what's inside. Who's inside. "The photographer is ready, if she's still up for it." He says and he can hear your giggle from inside. "I'm still up for it, cowboy." He smiles, nods and takes a step back. "I'll be in the hall." He says before turning back and joining the photographer. The timing was perfect, the sun was giving a golden light to the hallway where Jake was waiting for you. His back was turned to the photographer who started taking some clichés of the groom. He looked radiant, the sun rays creating an angelic aura all around him. Jake almost turned around when he heard your heels clicking on the wooden floor. But as he was about to ruin the surprise, you stopped in your tracks and he remembered what exactly he was standing there for. The first looks.

The clicking started once more and he couldn't help the grin stretching his lips. He could hear the photographer taking pictures and he never felt more jealous than at this moment. When you were just a few feet away from him, he started shaking from excitement. This was definitely the best day of his life, there was no doubt about it. "Honey?" You call for him and he knows it's his signal to turn around. When his eyes finally land on you, he cannot suppress stretching his lips. "Oh, baby..." He scoffs, not believing his eyes. You were just perfect, the long white dress fits perfectly your body. "Do you like it?" You grab the skirt of your dress and move it a little bit. Jake softly groans and rubs his face with his left hand, the one where you'd find a ring at the end of the day. "If I like it? You- Can you give me a twirl, baby?" You happily comply with a giggle and he almost tries to reach out for you. "Tut tut tut! No touching, Mr Seresin." You take a step back and he sighs, trying to charm you with puppy eyes. You chuckle and take another step back, knowing it's almost time for you to walk down the aisle.

"I'll see you at the altar?" You smile at him and his lips stretch in a smirk. "I'll be the handsome guy trying not to cry." He says and you laugh once more. "I'll be the pretty lady in white, definitely crying." He sends you another smile and blows a kiss in your direction. "I love you." He says as you open the door to leave him alone in the hallway. "I love you more." You answer without hesitation. "That's not possible." He only says before you disappear from his sight. He keeps staring at the door you just closed behind you with a silly smile before turning to the photographer. "Was that good for you?" He asks him as the man checks his clichés. "Perfect. You're gonna love them." The man smiles. "I'm sure we will." Jake nods and joins Javy in the lobby to hear his best man instructions.

222 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!readerCW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right.

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet.

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.

1K notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Note

what abouttttt

zombie!steve and reader (at any point tho i feel like this would make sense after the college got attacked) are like scavenging in a pharmacy and steve wanting to make his girl laugh puts on the stupidest prescription glasses that he found near the front desk but then? reader comes over and hes like have you always had that mole? and he refuses to take them off even tho theyre far sighted which makes the trek back to camp slightly unsafe but he cant stop staring at readers face because hes never seen it so clear

thank you for your request<3

“I really need some chocolate,” you lament, pulling at his hand as you drift together down the aisle toward the snack section. “If they don’t have any, I’m going to kill myself.”

“You better kill me first.” Steve pulls you back. “Seriously. Have the decency.”

“Find me some candy and I won’t have to.”

“Find yourself some candy, loser. I need some painkillers. I’m sick of dealing with you.”

You push at his arm. He resists the urge to yank you in for a kiss, letting your hand drop to part ways at the top of the aisle. He makes for the back of the store where the in-store pharmacy signs hangs half off of the wall, green glass shattered like coarse sugar grains underfoot. Steve cringes, clearing a path to the desk with the side of his shoe.

“You okay?” you call from a few feet away, unseen but close enough to be heard clearly.

“Fine! Signs of candy?”

“No,” you say dejectedly. He nearly misses it.

Steve’ll find you some chocolate if it’s the last thing he does, but first, he needs painkillers. His knee aches like he’s been beaten, a funny burning string of pain lining the underside of his leg every other step. Ideally he’d like some codeine, but more realistically he wants advil. He doesn’t know where to start, never does, but if you come over he’ll pretend he understands what things go where.

He’s lucky. He bends down and finds a bottle of motrin on the floor, looking up to find a shelf teeming with it. “Yes,” he says, ecstatic. Things rarely ever go so obviously his way. “Fucking yes.”

He shoves as many bottles of tylenol in his various pockets as he can. Then he looks around for anything interesting. He’s sure there’s a ton of things you could benefit from. He’s been wondering about epi-pens and emergency precautions, because god forbid something happen to you he couldn’t correct. Love makes him worry. You’re worrisome, you’re so sad lately, he knows you’re a few days from another burnout. He can’t handle it —he’ll take care of you, but seeing you down for the count hurts every single time.

He leans heavily on the counter and lets himself think. Absent-minded, he reaches out to spin the intact rungs of a glasses stand, prescription lenses shining against the glare of the sun seeping in from the store’s caved metal roof. “Plus two,” he says to himself, “plus three, what?” He grabs an obscene pair and shoves it up his nose, blinking in surprise at the way his vision blurs.

He turns the display to the mirrored back and grins.

“Hey, loser? You okay?” he calls.

You don’t answer.

“Babe?” he says sharply.

“Oh, you’re talking to me?”

“That’s not funny.”

You appear at the end of the aisle with an arm full of chips, less blurry the closer you get. “Sorry. Don’t call me loser then. Oh, gosh, what are you wearing?”

“Gosh,” he mimics with a laugh. “I’ve no idea.”

His poor attempt at a southern accent makes you laugh too. “Nice glasses, Harrington. I didn’t know you needed them.” Steve crossed his arms in front of him. You drop the chips beside his sleeve and station yourself as he had, a mirror, your smile charmed as you push the glasses up his nose. “You look ridiculous. Here,” —you take a nicer pair from the rack and open the legs— “swap them.”

He would, but he’s looking at you, and he’s thinking, What?

You move your head away from him instinctively, but ultimately let him hold your face, his thumb on the hill of your chin, fingers curled over your cheek. He can see the little silver scars of a cruel hand around your mouth, and the cut on your cheek from a surprising wooden beam, but what he’s never noticed is the pigmentation under your mouth. The little wrinkles by your eyes. Hell, he’s never realised your eyelashes looked quite like that until now.

“Hey–” he starts, though you’re already ducking your chin. “Wait–”

“Stop, you’re staring.”

“Yeah, I’m staring. You always had that freckle?”

“Long as I can remember.”

“Wait,” he pleads, trying to grab your chin as you step away.

“I need chocolate, Steve, I’m not kidding. You can do whatever you want to me if you help me find some.”

“You will come to love that decision very soon.”

You giggle like crazy. Steve swaps the less attractive glasses for the ones you’ve recommended and follows you down the aisle to help you look for your sugar fix. He nearly trips over a split can of condensed milk, and you might act like you don’t like him, but you catch him by the arm and allow him to hold on.

He isn’t great at helping you look, but he finds a couple of bars of cooking chocolate in the baking essentials aisle and decides it’s good enough to head home with. You eat lines of it as you walk, your fingers pressed between Steve’s, a little dab of chocolate he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise in the corner of your lips.

“You sure you don’t want some?” you ask between bites.

He’s gonna watch you eat the whole thing. “No thanks. I’m saving room for Robin’s artichoke heart and refried bean combo.”

“Would you take those off?” Your cheek twitches as you smile. Your eyes glow with affection. “You can barely walk.”

“You don’t like them?”

“They really, really suit you, actually. I love them,” you say, to his secret delight.

“So what’s the problem?”

He trips over his own feet and has to grab your arm to stop from falling. “That’s the problem,” you say, in love enough to smile even when the world has gone to shit for you a thousand times. Your eyes follow down his nose to his lips.

Steve grins and ducks forward for a kiss. “Oh, sorry,” he says when the glasses bump your nose.

You laugh and touch under his chin to help him out. You taste like chocolate still as he kisses against the seam of your lips, a quick but blissfully deep kiss, a handful of seconds where Steve feels like you’re one in the same before he pulls away, just enough to see both of your eyes.

“What’re you looking at?” you ask.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he lies. “Want me to get it?”

“Yes,” you say bashfully.

He kisses the tip of your nose, then the corner of your lip.

457 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Text

Night Moves- Dean Winchester.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of eating, established relationship, based on the song “night moves” by Bob Sager

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

You sat in the passenger seat of the impala humming along to the song on the radio, you hadn't heard it in a while so you forgot how much you liked it. You mindlessly stared off into the dark trees on the almost abandoned highway, remembering the first time you ever heard this song.

You were abruptly brought out of your daydream when the song changed which was weird because there were at least 2 minutes left.

"Hey, I was listening to that" you said turning your attention to your boyfriend in the driver seat.

"Really?" Dean questioned "Why?"

"Because I like the song, Bob Sager is a legend." You replied

"Yeah obviously, but out of all songs, 'night moves' is your favorite?" He said with a light chuckle, lowering the volume of 'ramble on' that replaced Sager.

"Yes, actually it is" you were ready to defend this song with your life "Is that a problem?" You incited

This was a common occurrence throughout the course of your relationship, you never argued about anything serious but when it came to music all cards are on the table. There were just certain things about music you couldn't agree on, sometimes the bickering would go on for days before you two would eventually kiss and make up.

You knew this song was different though, but he didn't. He didn't know the significance of this song but you were going to change that before this went too far, it already continued into the diner where you two were having your weekly date night.

By now the whole conversation has become about how Led Zeppelin is unappreciated, somehow all music conversations lead to Led Zeppelin. You waited for Dean to finish his second piece of pie so you'd know you'll have his full attention.

"Do you really not know why I like the song so much?" You questioned hoping maybe he'd remember. He shook his head no, you sighed. "The night you first said you loved me, it was playing in the background" You explained

Dean's eyes went wider than you'd ever seen, all the memories of that night flooded his brain, the bar, the smell, the atmosphere, what he was wearing, what you were wearing, he remembered it all so how did he forget this one detail?

"That's right!" he shouted grabbing the attention of the only other customer and the waitress, "some drunk guy yelled out 'this is my jam!' across the bar right before I said it. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot" there was regret in his voice but fondness in his eyes. That was the best night of Dean's life.

"Now you can see why I like it so much, it reminds me of us." You smiled at him

He smiled back, "Yeah, still a shit song" he shrugged then dodged the balled-up napkin you threw at him.

Eventually, you both started making your way back to the Impala, you walked out of the diner hand in hand. Right before you made it to the car you heard it…

"Workin' on our night moves, trying to lose the awkward teenage blues" Dean sang under his breath. You immediately stopped in your tracks, causing him to do the same. He sighed before looking over at you, he knew he wasn't going to hear the end of this.

You raised your eyebrows at him, a big grin slapped across your face

"Shut up" he rolled his eye, a smile pulling at his lips

You smiled, leaned over and pecked his cheek, then whispered in his ear "I don't think I will."

172 notes · View notes

toomanyfictionalboyfriends · 2 months

Text

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

4K notes · View notes