Inej and Kaz have an little game they like to play because they don’t see each other much anymore. It goes something like this, whenever Inej is in Ketterdam she’ll break into Kaz’s room and steal something of his. Nothing major, just a hat, a pen, or a tie. Then hide it somewhere around the Slat. Kaz will, in return, sneak onto Inej’s boat and steal something of hers and hide it somewhere on the ship. So then both of them have until they meet again to find what was stolen and where it is hidden. And if either fail, they owe the other a giant stack of waffles.
ready?” You glanced down at JoJo who was still dressed in green pajamas,
shifting from foot to foot. You’d taken the time this morning to pull her hair
back in a French braid to keep it out of her face, but it had already started
to fall out, framing her face.
let’s go!” You picked up the tray of food and nodded your head, letting her
lead the way. She bounded down the hall and to your bedroom, stopping at the
door. She opened it carefully, peeking inside. “Is he still asleep?”
huh.” JoJo giggled. “He’s hugging your pillow, Mommy.” You opened the door
further, glancing inside and shaking your head. Dean did indeed have his arms
wrapped tightly around your pillow. You’d only been out of bed a little over an
hour and he was already acting like you’d been gone for an eternity.
ahead.” You whispered. “We’re not gonna let him sleep all day.” JoJo skipped
inside, crawling up on the bed while you waited in the doorway, leaning against
the doorframe. She crawled on top of Dean, who in his sleep, released the
pillow and turned to grip her waist. He was used to her crawling on top of him
in the middle of the night or early morning, very rarely did it ever wake him.
Genre: best friend!au | fluff, lil bit of quite stressful angst but happy ending
Member: Ten / reader
Word Count: 3500ish
Summary: “it was still a mistake”
“no the mistake was falling for you!”
It’s a Thursday when they meet.
Their year 7 teacher assigns them partnered projects about the solar system and she pulls names out of a hat. They get paired together. He’s is nice, really nice and she realises he has the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen- she’s not star struck or anything, she just hasn’t seen one like it before.
He introduces himself, she hasn’t seen him around much before so she’s assuming he’s pretty new and his name is a number. “Why is your name Ten?” she asks as they’re glueing planets to pieces of strings.
He shrugs, “It’s just a nickname.”
She frowns, “Well then what’s your real name.”
He sighs, smiling knowingly because there’s no way she’ll be able to pronounce it. “ Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” he says, almost proudly.
She pauses, staring at him, “Yeah I like Ten.” she dismisses because even she knows any attempt at the pronunciation would be embarrassing.
He grins, “You’re funny.”
“Do you want to be friends?” She asks quietly, almost shyly and he likes her already.
He smiles again, “I have a feeling we will be for a very long time.”
She frowns, “What are you a psychic or something?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, pretending that a few second ago she wasn’t worried about what he’d say.
“Yeah I read people’s minds.” He assures.
She narrows her eyes and glances around the room. And then she points to a classmate, “What’s he thinking?”
“That he’s got a really itchy butt.”
And the teacher separates them because they distract each other too much.
“We’re out of Chinese.”
Ten closes the door behind him, frowning as he makes his way past the kitchen to look into the open living room. She’s sitting on the floor with a plate of food in her hands and her laptop on her lap. She’s surrounded by sheets and open text books and colouring pens strewn around in an unseemingly order. “That Chinese has been there for weeks.” He scoffs, dropping his bag onto the dining room table.
She shrugs, “It’s the only thing that was in there and I’m starving.” He breathes a laugh, walking over to sit behind her on the couch. He flops down and sighs loudly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. She pauses stuffing her face. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
There’s a silence where he contemplates telling her, knowing that he will eventually because he tells her everything so he just sighs. “I got fired.”
She glares at him, “Again?” she cries, putting her plate aside to turn around and face him. Her chin barely reaches the sofa but she still manages to scare him a little. “What the hell did you do this time?” she demands.
“Nothing!” he cries cordially but when he sees the look on her face he sighs again, “Okay so I may have burnt someone’s arm.”
She frowns, “How did you do that?”
He rolls his eyes and waves her off like it’s no big deal, “They got in the way of the fire-”
“It was only a small fire and I told him to move, it’s not my fault they put the toaster right under the cupboards.” he defends.
She shakes her head, “You’re insane.”
He sits up, looking down at her plate of food, “Yeah, well at least I’m not going to get food poisoning.”
She waves him off, “I’m not going to get food poisoning.”
“Look at it, there’s mould on the chicken!” he cries, reaching over to point and she bats his hand away.
“Get your own food!” she snaps. He rolls his eyes threading his fingers through her hair and sighs Her eyes flutter closed and she leans her head against the sofa. It’s quiet, the only sound is their breathing and he doesn’t think he wants to move from this very spot when they’re both so comfortable in the silence of their own thoughts. “I’m tired.” she murmurs.
He looks down at her with eyes soft around the edges of the cold look she’s grown so used to and he nods, “Me too.”
His fingers thread through the knots and his thumb brushes her cheek and a part of her feels that this isn’t what friends do, but when he makes her feel like this she doesn’t care. “Can we watch House?” She asks quietly.
He breathes a laugh, “As long as you promise not to spoil it for me.”
This time she laughs, “Well I’m sorry I used to watch ER. At least your life is safe in my hands, imagine, you could have a heart attack right now and I would know what to do.” she assures.
He rolls his eyes, “If I have a heart attack its because of all the stress you cause me.”
It’s a Thursday when Ten realises he might like her as more than a friend.
They’re in the supermarket, travelling between aisles in search of cheap food that they can easily make because neither of them is particularly good at cooking. He’s pushing the trolley and she’s sitting inside it, a lollipop in her mouth as she grabs at rice packets and biscuits and throws them into her lap. “We don’t need those.” He points out as she slides a stack of waffles somewhere next to her knee.
She wags a finger at him but doesn’t turn, “We always need waffles.” She assures.
He shakes his head, “There is literally no situation in which we would ever need waffles.”
She grabs a cowboy hat that someone disregarded in the cereal aisle and pops the lollipop out of her mouth, “well, what if the queen comes around?”
“The queen?” He scoffs, throwing in a pack of cereal that he knows she likes.
“Yeah!” She cries, “And what if she stays for breakfast and we’ve only made pancakes but she doesn’t like pancakes and we don’t have any waffles!” she holds them up to show him, “We can’t let down the queen!”
“Of which country?” He asks in response
She pauses. “England?” She suggests, “Or maybe a Russian Tzar, oh! Do you think Rasputin might come round?” She exclaims, turning to face him with this child-like grin that turns his leg to jelly.
He shakes his head with a small smile, “Rasputin’s dead.” he points out and she waves him off.
“That’s what they want you to think.” She assures, “And if he ever visits I can assure you that he is a waffle person.”
“Okay, now what your reasoning for this?” He asks, reaching forward to pull the cowboy hat from her head.
She snatches it back, “I look good in it, is that not reason enough?”
“Were not going to buy it.” he points out, “Despite the fact that it’s just you and me, we eat a lot.”
She mock gasps, “But what if woody comes round for dinner?”
He rolls his eyes, turning the trolley towards the costume aisle, “Don’t you think he’d be offended by you impersonating a cowboy?”
“You’re right!” She cries, ripping the hat off her head. She wriggles around in the cart and clambers to her knees, facing him as she places it against his hair and begins to tie string to hold in place under his chin. “You’d look more realistic as a cowboy.” she smirks and he’s staring longer that he should.
“Can I get a tiara?” He asks, still pushing the trolley and she grins.
“Of course you can princess, any particular colour?” She questions, her eyes crinkling with her smile.
He hesitates, a finger tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Pink or purple, whatever they’ve got.”
She nods, “Yes-sir-ie” she jokes in the most southern accent she can muster and leans out of the trolley, picking up various princess costumes, “Would you like to slip into an apple induced coma or lose a shoe on a wild night out?” She asks, holding them up to face him.
He smirks, “Depends, do I meet the love of my life?” He asks, looking her straight into the eyes before realising the fact that his heart rate is way up.
She smiles, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, “Why, do tell me your deepest, darkest wish and the genie will make it a reality.” She says, again in a southern accent, “Is it princess Jasmine? Was it her beautiful dark eyes?”
He cocks his head leaning closer, “No.” he shakes his head, still staring, too long. She notices. “They look like yours.”
“Shut up.” She jokes and when he doesn’t say anything the smile slowly slides off her face. She hesitates, “You’re serious?” She deadpans.
He shrugs, “Same colour hair, same freckles on her cheek, same smile.” he blurts before he can even realise that this is probably a mistake.
And she stays kneeled in the trolley, their faces close enough to see the truth in each others eyes and that cowboy hat still on his face. She blinks, trying to ignore her heartbeat, “Are you banging my sister?” she raises an eyebrow.
And they laugh, but they never talk about it again.
She glares at him from her seat at the dining room table, “I told you, I can’t.”
He throws himself dramatically onto the table, whining and pretending to sob, “But please!” he begs, praying in her direction and pouting.
She shakes her head, ignoring him, “No. You asked me a week ago and my answer was no, you asked me yesterday and my answer was no and then you asked me today and guess what? My answer is still no.”
“But you promised!” he exclaims.
She stares at him almost astounded, “I did no such thing.” she assures cordially.
He wags his finger, “At 4:30 am on the Friday of last week you said that you would come with me.”
“4:30 am? On Friday? You mean when I had been awake for 52 hours?” she cries.
He holds his hands up, “You still promised.”
“I was sleep deprived!” she yells.
“It counts!” he assures.
“It does not!” she replies, “Now get off the table, you’re sitting on my work.” she demands.
He shakes his head, “Nope.” and proceeds to lie down on top of the mounds of paper and open textbooks. “You’re coming. Get your shoes it’s Latin night.”
“I don’t even dance!” she cries, running short of arguments he’ll just ignore anyway.
He shrugs, “You do with me.” he points out.
She glares at him, crossing her arms and trying her best not to blush. He looks so hopeful and pleading and the white shirt he’s wearing clings to his body like it’s always belonged there. She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, “You’re so annoying.” she huffs angrily.
But he grins, this wide million watt smile that blinds her and makes her forget that she’s angry because oh god he looks so beautiful. “Yes!” he cries, sitting up. She grabs a textbook and whacks him with it, “Ow! What was that for?”
“For constantly roping me into this shit!” she replies and he laughs, a laugh that makes her heart stutter and die in her chest.
She hits him again.
It’s a Thursday when they first kiss.
Its 3am and they’re still dancing in the club at Latin night. Her feet are sore and her legs ache but she’s got this huge grin on her face and her veins are intoxicated with a flood of alcohol. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, who knows. There are waves of bodies crushed together and music that pounds her ears until the floor shakes and the lights become a haze of colours that ripple through her mind.
He twirls her around and laughs when she does because her laugh is infectious and he can’t stop staring. “Shots?” She asks and he nods.
They weave between the plethora of bodies that nearly crush them and she reaches out to hold onto his hand so they don’t lose each other. She nearly slams into the bar and they both laugh because they’re pretty drunk, and they’ve been here so long the bartender knows what to give them.
“Three, two, one!” They shout over the music and then they lick the salt from their hands, down the shot and then stick a lemon in each others mouths. They laughing and smiling and they’re touchier than usual because they’re drunk and fuck it, boundaries disappear when they’re drunk.
His arms is around her waist and his fingers grip at the bare skin her hip to hold her in place. She smiles and pushes the hair back from his sweaty forehead, “You’re hot.” She points out, breathing heavily because she is too.
He smirks, “Thanks, I know.”
She laughs and shoves his chest, “You’re an idiot.”
But she pushes too hard and looses her own balance but he catches her wrapping both arms around her. Her hands land on his shoulders so she can stop herself from falling down and that, right then, is when they kiss.
Because why not?
They’re both consenting adults, neither of them will remember and when he kisses her like that she doesn’t care. His fingers are tangled in her hair and her skin is on fire, their veins feel like they’re being pricked over and over again by tiny needles.
This probably shouldn’t be happening, they’re friends- best friends. Best friends don’t kiss each other like the world is at their feet. But their kissing too deeply, too much like they care that they lose their balance and nearly fall down again. And so they back to dancing, but things change from then on.
“You haven’t spoken to him? You live together!” Johnny cries and she rolls her eyes.
“That’s another problem. I need to find an apartment.” she adds, staring down at her coffee and swirling it with the small spoon provided.
“Are you serious?” He mutters, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “You can’t just move out.”
She shrugs, “Why not? He has six hours of lectures on Thursday, I can pack up some stuff, stay at yours.”
He scoffs a laugh, “You are not staying at mine.”
She frowns, leaning forward, “Why not?”
“Because-” he hisses and then pauses, taking a deep breath. “Because you can’t just not talk to your best friend for a week and then move out without any explanation.”
“Fine, I’ll leave a note.” she surrenders, waving her arms.
“Are you serious? Jesus you’re just as bad as each other.” He huffs angrily, leaning back in his chair because he’s sick of both of them.
She pauses and stops swirling her coffee, “What do you mean? He’s spoken to you?” she demands, her eyes wide.
He waves her off, “I’m not playing messenger between the two-”
“Does he hate me?” She asks quietly, looking back down at her coffee.
Johnny purses his lips and sighs, “Of course he doesn’t hate you, you’re his best friend.” he says softly, because he can tell she’s worried.
She swallows, looking out of the window, “I need to move out.” She determine.
Johnny throws his arm up, “Jesus Christ do something.” he begs.
Is a Thursday when they finally realise they’ve been in love with each other for years.
She goes back home when he’s at his six hours of lectures, but she’s still quiet anyway because she doesn’t really feel like she going home, she feels like she’s stepping into forbidden territory. She tip toes in, closing the door quietly behind her, “What are you doing?” A voice says.
She jumps, holding her hand to her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. But slowly she opens them, landing on Ten. He’s sitting on one end of the sofa with a book in his hand and a frown on his face. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and they’ve lost their usual glint. “I’m just uh…” she trails off, pointing to her room
She doesn’t finish that sentence, “Where have you been?” he asks with no particular tone of voice.
She swallows, dropping her keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. “Busy.” She states, “I’ve had this project due so I’ve been living in the library for the past week and-”
“Stop lying to me.” He interrupts sadly, closing the book. He looks disappointed, like he expected better from her. “I think…” he trails off, scratching his head, “I think we need to talk.”
“About what? The state of our economy?” She smirks, laughing to hide the fear behind her words, “You know, China has had some fascinating developments in-”
“Well no actually, they’ve been working on a new train that is elevated above the city of-”
“Hey!” He interrupts again, standing up this time. “You being in perpetual denial does not help anyone.” he scoffs, approaching her.
She rolls her eyes, “I’m not in denial, denial of what?”
“Do you remember that night?” He asks like he’s making sure she’s genuinely just ignoring him for another reason. He sounds so scared and tired that she opens her mouth but finds nothing to say.
She swallows, looking down at her feet, “It was a mistake.”
He shakes his head and scoffs bitterly, “No. It was a long time coming.”
She frowns, “What are you talking about?” She demands angrily-, but deep down she knows so maybe she really is in denial.
He cocks his head, “Wow, you really are oblivious.” he shakes his head and sighs, “there have been multiple occasions on which we’ve basically admitted how we felt and still neither of us did anything.”
She sneers, “We were drunk, people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”
He shakes his head, “Sometimes we were sober.”
“It was still a mistake!” She cries, suddenly angry because he’s making her feel bad now.
“No, the mistake was falling for you.” he snaps back immediately.
Her neck snaps up, “What?” She breathes.
He cocks his head with a small smile, “Come on babe. You know what i’m talking about.” he assures, his fingers hooking apprehensively through hers.
She frowns, curling her fingers with his until she feels like he won’t let go. She steps closer to him and he sucks in a slow and steady breath, his eyes widening at the look she’s giving him. There’s this soft smile on her face and her eyes are shaded with hope and wonder and she swallows, “How long?” she asks quietly.
He laughs, “Do you remember when we went to prom and you wore that purple dress and the necklace I got you and the most jaw dropping smile i’ve ever seen another human wear.” he pauses, reaching up slowly and placing a hand on her cheek, “I realised that… there’s no-one else like you.” He smiles, “The day I met you was the day everything became a hundred times clearer, like I finally understood the reason i was put on this earth.”
She smiles as his arms come to wrap around her waist, and she feels like her skin is on fire wherever he touches her. “What happens now?”
And he kisses her again.
Its like poison in her veins, like she’s sliding down a cloud and his smile is the rainbow. “Now-” he breathes against her lips, “Now I think we need to establish something.” he states in all seriousness.
“Oh, okay, what?” She asks carefully.
“Rasputin is dead, and the Queen is not a waffle person” he blurts. “I bet you the queen only eats kale for breakfast or something.”
A/N: Hi lovelies! Sorry I’ve sucked at uploading recently, I’m doing some really important exms in school and so I’ve been non-stop studying. I’ve been adding to this in my free time so that I had something to upload for you all; I hope you enjoy it.
Also, thank you to @parchment-scribbles for putting up with my whining whilst I wrote this. X
Request: @je-ss-i-ca “Can I have a number 8 with Remus Lupin?”
8 - “I think you look cute”
Word Count: 7.4K! (it killed me)
Sunshine glared through the windows in Gryffindor Tower, reflecting upon the golden decorations imprinting on the walls. It was April twentieth and a Saturday, the time was nine forty in the morning, a time that would usually have started the day. The grounds of Hogwarts school were deserted, many students were enjoying the opportunity and decided to sleep in. Beads of rain on blades of grass sparkled under the brightness of the light, causing tiny rainbows to appear in the strangest places. The air hung silently around the castle, not even a single bird was heard. No movement was mustered from the Whomping Willow; the castle still remained asleep.
prompt: okay so could you do a poly!hamilsquad where like the reader came from a bad family and something happens one day that reminds them of it and the squad comforts them and they talk and it ends in fluff and stuff? you don’t have to if you don’t feel like it, it was just an idea
t/w: reader is a victim of emotional + some physical abuse, please read with caution. some hurtful insults.
a/n: this was a little tricky to write. i hope this is what you meant when you said “bad family.” if not, just let me know and maybe i can write something else up.
if there are any other trigger warnings you think i need to add, please let me know!
For the first half of your life, you felt like you were trapped in a cage. You felt like a prisoner in your own home, a victim of an honorable thief.
You weren’t familiar with the picture of the doting mother and father, willing to do whatever necessary for their child. You weren’t familiar with the idea of a mother who helped her child deal with their problems while being able to solve their own. You weren’t familiar with the promise of a mother who loved you no matter what you did.
Your mother didn’t always tell you that she loved you, but she did remember to tell you that she wished you were dead.
If you didn’t clean your room, she’d call you a failure. If you washed the dishes too slow, she’d insist that you’d never amount to anything good in this life. The smallest thing to you was the biggest infraction in her mind and if you told her how her words made you feel, she scoffed.
“You’re too sensitive,” she would dismiss you coldly. “You know I don’t mean it.”
If you asked too many questions or even angered her in the slightest way, there was the underlying worry that she would hit you. This fear became a reality. She slapped you once. You remembered the night perfectly. You were sixteen years old and as you placed ice on your cheek, you realized that the physical pain didn’t hurt as much as the emotional pain.
She could apologize and kiss you the next day, but the dull pain was still there. The outline of her hand seemed to sink into your skin after she slapped you.
They say there’s nothing like a mother’s love, but if this was her idea of love, then you wanted nothing of it.
You moved out as soon as you could. You went to New York for college. Despite leaving your old life behind, her words rang constantly in your mind. She had shaped you into the person you were today and not for the better.
When you first met your boys, you found yourself regressing to your old ways. For the longest time, you had trouble sleeping. For the longest time, you found yourself waking up into a constant state of fear. You remembered how many dates you canceled because you were on the brink of an anxiety attack.
Your boys were patient, but your mother still seemed to follow you to New York.
Your boys had asked about your family. You never told them much. They learned not to ask too many questions. At the mention of your mother, you seemed to grow sad. Herc had noticed the faraway look in your eye when he first mentioned her and he made sure not to ask again.
Alex had noticed the confused look in your eye when he had first told you that you were beautiful. He figured it was just because you were surprised. He didn’t realize that was the first time you had been complimented since you left home.
John and Laf noticed how you might get worried over small things. Laf remembered how once you freaked out because you hadn’t finished making dinner before he came home. John noticed if you were late, you’d apologize profusely until he reassured you that everything was alright. They were too focused on making sure you were okay in the moment to ask what you were really afraid of.
You wished you weren’t this way, but your wishes weren’t always fulfilled. You just tried to appreciate the good days when they came. The days where you slept the whole night or the days where you didn’t hear the voice telling you how you were worthless were enough. Those quiet victories kept you going.
You woke up with that mindset. Today could be a good day if you let it play out in full. After all, you were in New York, far away from your mother, and safe with your boys.
You sat up in bed, looked at the time. It was a little past eight. You tossed your hair up into a bun and looked down at what you were wearing–an old sweatshirt from your college and a pair of shorts. You hummed as you headed to the kitchen. Your boys were up before you, scattered about your loft. You smiled at each of them, gave them a little wave, before going into the kitchen and making breakfast.
“Did you buy eggs when you went out, Herc?” You called, pulling out the waffle iron from your cupboards.
“Yep!” He called back. You rubbed your eyes once more, before opening the fridge. You pulled out the carton of milk, the container of eggs, and the waffle mix. “Did you find it, princess?”
“Yeah, thank you!”
You boiled the water to make oatmeal and got a pot of coffee ready for Alex. Then, you pulled out a big bowl to put your ingredients in for your waffles. You cracked the eggs, poured in milk, measured your mix, and whisked it all together. You felt a little smile on your face once the mixture was smooth and the lumps were gone. You started to pour the batter into the hot waffle iron and patiently waited for it to cook.
“Morning, baby girl.” John hummed. He brushed some of the waffle mix off of your cheek, giving you a sweet little smile. Before you could ask why he did that, he kissed your cheek. “These for us?” He pointed to the waffles.
“Nope, it’s all for me.” You added another waffle to the top of your growing stack, slipping the golden waffle off of the spatula. You laughed a little. “Back off, Jack.”
John chuckled, snuck his arms around your waist. “Will you at least save a couple for us?”
“You can have the oatmeal. Why do you think I made some?“ You teased. When he pressed a few kisses to your neck, you felt your heart warm up a little. “You must really want some, huh?”
John’s kisses grew in number. “Want a little more than that.”
You laughed a little. “Make up your mind. Me or the waffles.”
“You, every time.”
You bit your lip a little, a soft tint of red filling your cheeks. You were flattered. Every time these boys complimented you or showed you how important you were to them, all you could do was smile. Accepting their compliments and love was hard at first, but it had grown a little easier with time.
“If you keep kissing me, I won’t be able to finish these. Some of us have to eat, you know.”
“I’ll kiss you later then.”
“Of course.” John pulled away, giving you one last kiss on the lips before he left the kitchen.
You added a few more waffles to your stack before walking with them to the table. Your boys helped you set the table once you announced you were all done. Kisses were exchanged between the five of you as you started to eat. Alex kissed the back of your hand with sticky lips, but you still smiled at the gesture.
Mornings like these, you felt normal. Mornings like these, you felt happy. They were so rare and so sweet. You popped another piece of waffle into your mouth before staring ahead.
“Love?” Herc asked, giving you a look. You looked adorable–he couldn’t deny that–but that zoned out look in your eye had been there for so long. “You there?”
You looked up at him with a start, your chin in the palm of your hand. “S-Sorry.”
Laf patted your knee from where he sat beside you. “Thank you for the breakfast, mon cher.”
You beamed, biting into another big piece of waffle. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Why don’t I clean up?”
You nodded, thankfully. Laf kissed the top of your head before taking his plate and yours once you were both finished. John stacked up the other plates to make it easier for Laf when he came back from the kitchen. You figured you could take it yourself. You didn’t mind. You took the three other plates and grabbed a glass while you were at it.
Unfortunately, you turned and backed up a little too quickly. You dropped the glass on accident, flinching at the crash it made. The glass scattered along the tile in the kitchen. You cursed under your breath, quickly set the plates down on the counter.
“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me -”
All the while, Laf was standing just in front of you. You started to pick up some of the larger pieces of glass, but you decided against it. When you looked up at Laf, he had his hand raised up slightly. Your eyes widened.
You suddenly felt sixteen again. You could feel your mother’s glare on you. You heard her invectives, heard the bitterness in her voice, heard her rant about all the pain you called her.
You tried to fight it. The scene felt too familiar. You remembered the hand that raised slightly with the intention to hit you. You remembered how your mother’s hand came crashing down across your face.
You tried to tell yourself, Laf wouldn’t do that. Laf wouldn’t hit you, but a louder voice told you that he would.
You naturally recoiled, took a step back, and brought your hands to cover your face.
Laf frowned at the sight of you. The other boys too looked confused as they watched your movements.
Laf stepped around the broken glass, gently brought your hands down. You were shaking slightly. He bent down, trying to make eye contact with you, but you had your eyes shut tight. You hadn’t moved from where you stood. He heard you let out a quiet whimper and it broke his heart.
“My love?” Laf whispered. He swallowed. “I-I’m not going to hit you.”
You looked up at him, a quiet voice telling you to be afraid. You took a tiny step back. Your hands were still connected, so sweetly intertwined, but you were still tense. You were still scared. Laf bit his lip.
“I was just reaching for the broom.” He said softly. Your eyes followed to what he was referring to. You relaxed slightly. You just misunderstood what had happened. Laf’s not going to hit you. Laf’s not going to hit you.
You nodded slowly. You slipped your hands out of his. You didn’t realize you were crying until Laf asked Herc to get you some tissues. You felt the hot tears run down your face, rushed to wipe them away. You tried to pull yourself together. Your brain was already trying to think of a lie that would be enough for the boys to forget about what happened.
Herc approached you carefully and his voice brought you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)?”
You looked up at him, sniffling still. You warily took the tissue he offered you. You dabbed at your eyes before quietly saying, “Y-Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were full of love and concern.
“Mm.” You said tightly and managed a tight nod. Herc took your hand, rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand.
“Did someone … hurt you?” He asked, a little unsure. “In the past, maybe?”
You looked around the room. Laf was holding the broom, but his eyes were on you. John and Alex exchanged nervous looks, but soon they looked at you in concern. You looked up at Herc nervously. He knew you well enough to know that meant yes.
You shifted a little uncomfortably. You could hear your mother’s words ring a little louder in your head.
“You’re too sensitive. I’ve done nothing but love you! H-How could you say that about me?!”
Herc watched you carefully. You had that far away look in your eye.
“Don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sure it’s hard to talk about.”
He was right. It was hard to talk about, but you figured it needed to be said.
“My mom,” You began softly. “I guess, it’s, um, more emotional than physical abuse,“ You rubbed you hands together. “Well, it was. I haven’t seen her in … years.”
You bit your lip. “I know I should have told you sooner -” You felt your throat tighten and your eyes water again. “I just … d-didn’t know how you would take it? I guess? It’s hard to tell people about it because usually they don’t believe me. T-They look for scars or bruises and I don’t have any here -” You pointed to your skin. “But, they’re still there and it hurts just as much.”
You sniffed more until your vision was blurred with tears. The words got caught in your throat. You looked up at Herc once more. You opened your mouth and closed it. You tried to hold back a sob, but it still seemed to escape.
“Can I give you a hug, baby?” He asked you gently.
You nodded, wrapped your arms around his torso. He wrapped his arms around you and you buried your face in his chest.
Laf’s hands were shaking slightly. John noticed. He nudged Alex to go over to him. Alex complied and crossed the room to see Laf.
They spoke quietly in French while Herc and John comforted you.
“She thinks I would hit her. I-I wouldn’t. I’d n-never hurt her.”
“I know, Laf. Give her a minute. It’s not your fault.” Alex bit his lip. “You didn’t know. None of us did.”
When Laf didn’t seem to believe him, Alex took his hand. He tried to think of what Laf needed to hear in this moment. The words found their way to him like always.
“We know you’d never hurt us.” Alex said as firmly as he could. He knew it to be true.
That seemed to bring Laf back.
“Are you okay now?”
“I’m more worried about her.”
Alex helped him sweep the broken glass up. By the time it was cleaned up, Herc had moved you over to the couch. You were in Herc’s lap, holding onto him until John sat beside you. He took your hand.
“Can you call Laf and Alex, please?” You whispered. John was quick to go and grab them.
You curled up closer to Herc, closed your eyes. The couch sunk a little from the weight of John when he came back beside you. John kissed the top of your head. When you opened your eyes, Laf and Alex were in front of you, sitting on the coffee table. Laf looked nervous. Alex looked to you.
“A-Are you okay?” Alex asked you softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You sniffed, nodded a little. “My mom wasn’t always very … nice to me. She was, um, really manipulative and hurtful and I just never liked being at home. She would humiliate me publicly and insult me, but then she’d insist she didn’t mean it.” You shifted. “Um,” You felt your eyes water again. “There was this one time …This one time she slapped me and -”
You bit your lip and shook your head. “I-I just knew she meant it then.”
Tears rushed down your cheeks and you shook in Herc’s embrace.
Each of your boys tensed–-Laf especially.
“Is that why you got scared when I raised my hand?” He whispered.
“A l-little, yeah.” You said weakly. “But not of you! J-Just of what you could do.” Your voice was soft, still small, but the boys understood.
Laf knelt down in front of you. “You must know I would never want to hurt you.” He whispered, his hand comfortingly on your knee. “I love you, mon cher. I would never d-do anything to hurt you.”
When you looked down at him, his eyes were glassy. You brushed away your own tears and tried to calm down. You managed to give him a little smile, despite the war between the two voices in your head. There was your mother’s and then there was Laf’s.
He wasn’t lying. He loved you. Laf wasn’t your mother. None of these boys were your mother.
“I-I know.” You let out a soft sigh. “I was just reminded of my mom and what she did to me.”
“Baby girl, you didn’t deserve that.” John reassured you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I-It’s not your fault,” You managed a weak smile. “You all have never hurt me.” You looked down at your hands, rubbing them together a little nervously. “You’ve done nothing but love me and I love you for it.”
“We’re never going to treat you how your mom treated you.” Alex promised you, looking you right in the eye. “We don’t want you to feel afraid of us or just afraid in general.”
You just nodded, felt your shoulders relax, felt a huge burden roll off your chest.
Herc pushed your hair out of your eyes and you buried your face in his neck. “Is there something we do that triggers you? Or something other people do that reminds you of your mom?”
“I’m not too sure, but I’ll let you know if something really bothers me.” You promised, sitting up a little straighter.
“Just want to make sure you’re okay, darling.” Alex hummed.
You nodded, looked at Laf.
“Laf?” You reached forward, brought his eyes to yours. You cupped his face, rested your forehead against his. “I know you won’t hurt me.”
Relief washed over him and he visibly relaxed. A burden was removed from his heart and his mind.
Laf pulled you into a soft kiss and then into a tight hug. You breathed out a sigh of relief in time with Laf.
“I-I did not mean to frighten you, mon cher.” He said, holding you close to his chest. You snuggled deeper into his hold, relaxed in his embrace. “You must know that.”
“I do. I k-know.” You whispered. “I love you.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and sat back in between John and Herc. You looked at Hercules, then John, and then at Alex who still sat across from you beside Laf. “I love you all.”
“Baby?” John kissed your cheek and took your hand. “Anything else you want to tell us?”
You bit your lip and slowly shook your head. “I’m just sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“No, it’s okay.” Alex insisted. “It was your place to tell us when. You don’t owe us anything, love.”
“We’re just glad that you did.” Herc reassured you. You smiled up at him and he kissed the top of your head. You closed your eyes and leaned into him a little more. “Now, we can love you better.”
“You guys already love me so much.” You whispered, a little blush creeping into your cheeks. “H-How could you possibly love me anymore?”
“Just let us show you.” John gave you a sweet smile.
“Y-You don’t need to do that.”
“Too bad, mon cher.” Laf chuckled a little. He reached over and pulled you into his chest. You bit your lip, trying not to smile as you all squeezed onto the couch. You were on Laf’s lap. Alex squeezed beside Laf at the end of the couch and leaned forward to kiss your temple. “We love you very much.”
“We won’t let anyone hurt you ever again, darling.” Alex rested his head on Laf’s shoulder, but he comfortingly rubbed your shoulder. “And we won’t hurt you. Ever.“
“That’s right.” John finalized. He rested his head on Herc’s shoulder but leaned over to take your hand. He squeezed it comfortingly. Your heart warmed as Herc pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.
You were tangled into each other in a matter of moments, soft kisses being placed all over your cheeks, neck, and lips as each moment passed. Your boys held you close and you nuzzled your face in the crooks of their necks, taking in everything about them, soaking up the love and security they brought you.
Somehow you ended up curled into Alex. His heartbeat thumped softly as you rested your head against his chest. You kissed him, pulling him down shyly before pulling away and wrapping your arms around his torso.
“Thank you” was all you could find yourself saying. It felt horribly inadequate. You wished there was a better phrase that expressed how thankful you were, but they saw it in your eyes. They saw it in the way you looked at them.
And for the first time in a long time, you found yourself free of the cage that your mother had you trapped in.
Summary : You are an agent that worked alongside the Avengers , with an unusually close friendship with Captain Rogers. What happened when he reveals his true feelings for you before you leave on an undercover mission? By the time you return from the mission, you’ve missed the events of Civil War. What happens when you come home and most of your friends are gone? And when they return?
Pairings : No official pairings yet, but Steve Rogers x reader, Johnny Storm x reader, Tony stark x reader, avengers x reader.
Warnings : swearing, angst,tiny bit of fluff
Italics are memories , & bold is the readers thoughts
Johnny doesn’t ask any questions, just holds you hand as the elevator descends. As soon as you’re both out in the cool New York air, your demeanor shifts from gloomy to devious. You turn, sending Johnny a smirk.
“Let’s get this party started, Sparky!“ You excitedly say as you approach is motorcycle. He chuckles, following you and hands you a helmet. You slip it over your head and speed off.
Johnny takes you to the bar you both usually go to when you have a night out, Night Owl. You always laugh at the lame name but the bar is always fun with him. As you head in, you notice it’s more busy than usual. You eye the bodies on the dance floor, watching the way they move together so sexually. Jesus, do they know they are in public? Johnny pulls you towards the bar, starting your night off with five shots of Tequila.
Drinks keep showing up in front of you, either from guys sending them over or Johnny being a little shit and telling the bartender to keep them coming. Damn it, Storm. Before you know it, you completely bypass the tipsy stage and land right in the drunk zone. The bar keeps filling with people, pushing you closer to Johnny. He slides his arm around your waist keeping you anchored at his side so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. As you both down another shot, the song switches to something familiar. You can’t remember the name but the beat grabs your attention. You turn to Johnny, trailing your hand over his chest. He raises his eyebrow at you but doesn’t stop your antics.
“What do you say Storm, you up for a dance?” He laughs, grabbing your hand and guiding you through the crowd to the center of the dance floor. He pulls your body against his, leaving no space. You gasp as your chest pushes against his as his hands grip your waist. You both begin moving to the music, your bodies moving in sync with each other. You whirl your body around, pressing your back to his chest. You think you hear a moan from him but you ignore it, starting to grind your ass against him to the music. His grip tightens on your hips and he moves his mouth to your ear, sending chills down your spine when he grazes it.
“I didn’t know you liked dancing, babe,” he says into your ear. You lean your head back against his shoulder and place your hand over one of his at your waist, pushing you against him harder. You can feel his clearly hard dick pressing into your ass and this time the moan comes from you. You dance against him for a few songs until you’re both over heated.
He leads you back to the bar and orders the both of you waters as you check your phone, not believing how late it is.
“Johnny, it’s 2am already!” you tell him as he hands you your water. He sends you a smirk then downs his water.
“You ready to get out of here, princess?” You roll your eyes at the pet name.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
You head out, but when the cold air hits you both you realize how drunk you are. There’s no way Johnny can drive a motorcycle now.
“Alright, let’s find a cab,” you sigh, but he grabs your hand stopping you.
“Orrrrrrrr we can walk back my place and just stay there tonight.” He points his thumb over his shoulder and you can see the Baxter building (Home of the Fantastic 4) within walking distance.
“Fine, but you’re giving me a piggyback ride, human douche.” Your tone is nothing but playful. Johnny crouches down and you jump onto his back. He starts walking towards his building as you rest your head against his.
“You know, when we get home you can have a different kind of ride.” You giggle then flick his ear.
“Behave yourself, Storm. Or I’m going to stay with Ben, ” you threaten. Johnny scoffs and mumbles to himself. His and Ben’s relationship is a bit rocky. No pun intended. He teases Ben about being ‘The Thing’ and his orange, stoney appearance constantly. Their friendship consists of pranks, arguments, and sometimes loving moments. You get along with the entire team: Ben, Sue Storm-Richards, and Reed Richards. They’re just like a slightly altered version of your Avenger family.
When you guys finally get up to his floor, he sets you down. You both go straight to his room, exhaustion from the night setting in. He goes in his draws, flinging a pair of flannel pants and a black t-shirt at you. He grabs clothes for himself and stays facing away from you to change. You blush when he takes off his shirt, quickly turning to give him the same privacy he gave you. You begin changing, pulling his shirt over your head, and as you go to step into the pants you hear a long whistle come from behind you. You snap your head up, catching Johnny’s eyes trailing over you panty-clad ass.
“So that’s what was pressing against me… can’t say I imagined anything less perfect.”
You blush and pull up the pants and flick him off. You both fall into his bed, moaning as your bodies hit the mattress. He shuts his lights off and turns his body away from you. As you’re about to fall asleep, his voice startles you.
“Aren’t you going to be the big spoon?” You laugh but move you body to his. You wrap your arms around his waist, curving your body flush against his.
“Goodnight, princess,” you whisper. He begins to reply but you nuzzle your face into his back and pass out.
When you both wake up the next morning, you go to the bar to retrieve his bike and he takes you back to the tower. You leave him with a kiss on the cheek before walking towards the doors. You hear footsteps nearing you and familiar voices appear with them. They would be getting back at the same damn time. What did I do to deserve this? Bucky, Steve and Sam join you while you’re waiting for the elevator. You look to all of them, taking in their sweaty, hot as hell appearance. Damn it Y/n, stop it. You’re mad at him, stop ogling his sweaty, beautiful body. You shake out of your mind when the elevator dings and you all file in. You stay towards the front as they stand behind you.
“Walk of Shame, Y/n?” Sam playfully asks as he pokes your side.
“Don’t be jealous Sammy, I still have enough attention for you babe.” You send him a wink, causing him to blush. Bucky smiles, watching the interaction, but Steve just glares at your clothes.
“Besides, can’t be a walk of shame if nothing scandalous happened, Wilson.” The elevator dings on your floor and you walk out of the elevator and straight to your room. You flop into your bed, thoughts of Steve swirling around. A knock on your door saves you from your own mind.
“It’s open,” you say, leaning up on your elbows. Wanda enters, still in her pajamas.
"Did you just get home?” she asks as she lays next to you.
“Yeah, I ended up crashing at Johnny’s last night. It was closer the bar we went to.”
“So that man, Johnny Storm, is he your boyfriend?” she questions hesitantly. You snort at her assumption.
“No, he’s just a friend. I was going to introduce you but I just - I needed to get out of here last night…“
"I understand, but aren’t you going to at least talk to Steve. Y/n, he-”
“Kissed another woman after telling me he loves me. I don’t care what he has to say Wanda, he actions say everything.”
You both go silent, neither of you know what to say now.
“You up for breakfast?” she breaks the silence.
“Hell yeah! I’m going to change real quick then let’s go make some waffles!” You leap out of your bed and switch Johnny’s pajamas for your own. You tug on your pajama shorts and your usual sleep shirt. It was a navy blue Brooklyn shirt Steve gave to you a while ago. You sigh, grabbing Wanda’s hand and dragging her to the kitchen. You both shuffle around, grabbing all the ingredients for waffles. You have FRIDAY play music and you both start dancing as you cook. You end up with four giant plates stacked with waffles.
“FRIDAY, alert the team there is waffle please.” The AI does as you ask and soon the kitchen is buzzing with conversation between the team. You all sit around the table eating and laughing. You hear the elevator door ding.
“Honey, I’m home!” Johnny? You abandon your waffles and meet him halfway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Maybe I missed you.” You fake gag at him. He laughs then pulls your phone from his pocket and hands it to you.
“Figured this wouldn’t be any good to you from my apartment.” How did I forget my phone? You wrap your arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.
“You’re a lifesaver, Johnny. I don’t care what your sister says about you,” you joke. He rolls his eyes, but before he can make a retort you ask if he wants to join you for breakfast.
“No, my sister needs me to try out a theory Reed has about my powers. I just didn’t want you to be phoneless.”
“Don’t set anyone on fire this time, alright?” you warn, remembering the last time he was testing his flames with Reed. Before you sit down, a hand swats your ass. And not just any hand, a burning hand.
“Ow! Damn it, Johnny! That the third pair of shorts!” You fan the smoke from his handprint seared into your shorts. Johnny is already running out of the kitchen but you chuck a waffle at his head, successfully (but barely) hitting the back of his head.
“Bye guys!” he yells from the elevator. You roll your eyes and sit back down. When you look up, all eyes are on you. Questioning looks and smirks are all you see.
“You and Hot Head, huh?” Clint asks as he stuffs a waffle In his mouth.
“It’s not like that. Johnny just - he’s a good friend. What was I supposed to do? You all left. I’m way too needy and Tony wasn’t giving me enough attention.” you shrug, receiving laughs from them. Steve looks slightly relieved, making you angry. What right does he have? Shouldn’t he be screwing Sharon by now? Wanda shoots you a glare as she hears your thoughts. You send her a ‘whoops’ face. You volunteer to do dishes, so as everyone leaves you begin gathering the plates.
“Let me help.” Captain Manners always trying to help a damsel. You roll your eyes at the offer.
“I’m a big girl, I think I can handle doing the dishes alone, Steve.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you don’t have to.” You sigh, dropping the plates angrily into the sink.
“Steve, just stop. Stop doing whatever you’re trying to do.” You lean yourself against the counter across from him.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just let me explain Y/n, it’s not-”
“You don’t need to. I wasn’t your girlfriend, you can kiss whoever you want Rogers. I’m not your fucking keeper,” you spit out.
He moves forward, caging you between his arms and the counter. Your eyes go wide as you look to his.
"How are you so fucking hard headed!?”
“It’s a gift, really.” you sass back. You see a mischievous look flash in his eyes. Oh boy, what is he up to?
“Fine, you said I could kiss whoever I want?” You raise your eyebrow at him, not understanding what his angle is. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, pulling your face closer to his. For a second, you let the feeling of missing him get the best of you but then you snap out of it. As his lips are about to touch yours, you place both hands on his chest and push him back.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” His mouth opens but you aren’t about to listen to his shit.
"You really are something else, Steve Rogers. You think after telling me you love me and kissing someone else, you can just waltz back in here, kiss me and everything will be alright?“ you yell. You didn’t notice Bucky and Sam re-enter the kitchen.
“No! Fuck you, Steve. You were my best friend. I was content with being just that. You’re the one that told me you love me, you’re the one that kissed me, you’re the one that chose to kiss Sharon Fucking Carter. Not only did you just lose my respect, but you lost our friendship.” You storm past Bucky and Sam.
“I hope she was worth it!” you yell over your shoulder.
You stay in your room for most of the afternoon, the mornings events on repeat in your head. You called Johnny right after leaving Steve in the kitchen and told him what happened. He offered to set Steve’s motorcycle on fire, but you declined (even though you both knew you wanted to say yes). Now you’re just staring at your ceiling, debating what to do with the rest of the day. FRIDAY’s voice appears, making you squeal from the shock.
“Agent Y/n, your presence is being requested in the communal kitchen in five minutes for a team meeting.” A meeting in the kitchen? What’s the point in having a conference/meeting room, Stark? Whatever.
“FRIDAY, what is the meeting concerning?”
“I’m not at liberty to say but Secretary Ross will be attending.” Ross. Oh this is going to be a blast.
Since the events resulting from the Accords, you’ve been itching to get your hands on Ross. The man chased after an innocent man, imprisoned your friends, and while containing them he mistreated them, mainly Wanda. Anger swims through your body at the thought of Wanda being restrained and, from what you hear, muzzled for awhile.
You get up, changing out of your pajamas into your usual ripped jeans and a tee. You grab one of your throwing knives from your drawer and hide it in your back pocket. Never know what can happen.
You leave your room and head to the kitchen ready to rip Ross apart.
You enter the kitchen, keeping your face emotionless, and see the rest of the team is already present. Everyone seems tense which is understandable.
“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started!” Tony says, clapping his hands together. Ross steps forward now, a stern look on his features
“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet in the kitchen. I wanted a less… stressful mood and the conference room didn’t seem to give that.” You roll your eyes but continue listening.
“I’m here to discuss the return of the team. Since you’re in the states now you have rules to follow.” He pulls out a few papers and places his glasses on.
“Rule number one: Barnes is not to attend missions alone. We cannot risk him compromising a mission if something triggers his…other personality.” He is really going to single Bucky out? This sounds like a different form of Accords. You release a dry laugh, pulling his eyes to yours. As you go to open your mouth, it seems Steve beats you to it.
“Even after everything, after proving Bucky is innocent, you have the nerve to make rules against him?” You can tell by his tone and the way his hands are fisted at his side that he’s barely containing his anger. And the show begins. Get him, Rogers.
“He’s a risk, Rogers. Anything could set him off. You’re biased when it comes to this, don’t you think?” Ross argues, pulling another laugh from you.
"Is something funny, Agent?“ You smile.
"You think Steve is bias then what about me? I don’t even know him.” You look to Bucky, then continue, “You have to nerve to single out Barnes after he was wrongly accused in the first place? His mind was cleared of the trigger words, so what’s the problem? He is a war hero and a victim. We should be helping him, not singling him out and excluding him. That rule is such bull sh-”
“Y/n-” Steves captain voice sends chills through you. Fuck, I love when he uses that voice. Damn it, focus. How is he managing to stay level headed? I don’t even fucking know Barnes and I’m about to explode for him. You send Steve a look silently telling him now isn’t the time to hold back.
He appears to get your message, his posture gets even straighter as he confronts Ross.
“She’s right, you’re making it sound like the tiniest thing is going to set him off. The doctors worked incredibly hard to make sure that doesn’t happen. The chances of him slipping are barely higher than any of ours. So why don’t you take these rules and rethink them before you step into our home and demand such offensive things, Secretary,” Steve says, holding Ross’s attention.
You move, standing next to Steve, arms crossed over your chest. Even though you are still sticking to what you said earlier about the friendship being gone, you have to stick by him to protect Bucky.
“You heard the Captain. Pack your papers up, the doors that way.” You point in the direction of the elevators.
Ross seems to snap.
"Control your girlfriend, Rogers, before she gets herself into trouble.” He turns to glare at you. “Do I need to remind you that you didn’t sign the Accords either, Y/n? You should have been thrown in jail with the rest of them.“ That’s it, gloves are off.
You slam your hands against the table,
"What are you going to do Ross, put me in restraints and muzzle me like you did to Wanda? Or let your guards throw me around like they did to Sam? These rules are shit. Who are you make these? I don’t see you out there risking your ass to save the world, so why don’t you take your rules and shove them up your ass." You turn to leave but Ross starts up again.
"They broke the law, they deserved to be there. Being heroes doesn’t exclude you from following laws. Restraining Miss Maximoff was a necessary precaution, she is a danger-” You whip yourself around, throwing your knife and embedding it the wall next to Ross’s head.
Everyone’s eyes are wide. Steve is behind you within seconds, his arm around your waist pulling you back. You glance over your team, taking in the tears in Wanda’s eyes and what you think to be a look of gratefulness on Bucky’s face.
“Calm down, don’t give him the satisfaction, Doll.” Steve says, is lips close to your ear. You feel his grip tightening like he knows you’re going to lunge. You know the action wasn’t meant to be so intimate, it was suppose to stop you killing Ross; but Steve made it seem a lot more than that. You feel him move closer to your ear again, but you shoulders tense at the action and you push out of his grip. Because that didn’t feel weird. His words calm you, but not enough.
“I’m not going to warn you again. Take your papers and get out,” you growl. Ross leaves the papers on the table but moves to leave.
“This isn’t over,” he threatens as he passes you.
You’re damn right this isn’t over.
It’s finally here! Again I’m writing this off of the top of my head, so this could or could not be the last part of the story. I’m so happy all of you still love this story and continue to tell me your reactions which bring me genuine happiness. So thank you. Enjoy.
After days of sitting in bed with Ashton at our current venue, I decided getting up and at least showering would help wash my sorrows away. Ashton carefully helped my weak physique off the indented bed, his arm on my waist for balance, and sat me on the toilet and turned on the shower head.
“Just wait until it warms up. I’ll set up your clothes in here as well, and we’ll get going after that. We’ll get some breakfast yeah? Any place you like.” And he grabbed the back of my head bringing it to his lips for a subtle kiss of comfort, and left. I sighed and shredded off my 5 day old sweatshirt and my stretched out black leggings, and felt the water temperature. It was perfectly warm.
I stepped in and immediately it hit my skin with a sizzle. I hoisted my hair back as my face was now drenched in water. My hands rested on the back of my neck, my eyes fixated on the shower wall in front of me. It had been a long time since I was left alone, by myself, with my thoughts. I could hear the pounding of my heart get deeper, thinking of Calum and how he was holding up as well. Was he crying? Was he sat in bed every minute he could get because the outside world was too much to bare for him as well? Or was he laughing like he never laughed with me before, was he happier than he ever felt, looking at someone else with a different light and different intention in their eyes than what I had? I hadn’t even realized I was crying at this point. The water being poured out onto me was intertwined with the water pouring out of me, and I couldn’t tell which was which. I could feel the sinking feeling hit me in my gut and chest, making it hard to catch my breathe. My hand shot out in front of me to catch my body from falling and smashing into the beige tiles. A sob escaped my mouth, loud enough to alert Ashton, who was now inside setting up my clothes. The cry lasted a few seconds, and was loud enough to crack glass. Ashton’s heart leaped out of his chest as he pulled back the shower curtain, just in time to catch me as I fell to my knees. The strength in me was gone, my everything was gone.
Ashton goton his knees on the bathroom floor, not even caring that he was getting wet, and just held me close to his chest just like he did the night Calum left. I continued to cry into his black t-shirt, clutching onto it. His hand reached up to my head and brought his mouth to it, he knew it brought a sense of protection to me. “You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m so sorry, I don’t know when but…you won’t have to hurt much longer in my presence.”
After a few minutes, Ashton turned off the water and inside filled the tub for a bath. He squirted some soap into the water so it bubbled up, and brought the soap up and down my body. In reality, it was just him giving me a bath, but in my mind, he was scrubbing away any last bit of Calum lingering behind. I knew Ashton was waiting to be with me, it was killing him inside to see me worked up over someone who hadn’t been done anything good for me. But he was being patient; any other guy who would’ve been in his shoes would’ve quit by now. I was silently thanking and praying for him not to give up on me.
He brought me to a small brunch place that he claimed had the best breakfast burritos in the area, or so he read online. We sat down inside near the back corner, the furthest away from outside and people as we could. I hadn’t spoken a word since we got out of the hotel, only nodded and hummed as a response. I was just afraid of the crack in my voice from crying and yelling so much that I just decided to keep my mouth shut. Ashton’s hand snaked it’s way to my own from across the table and held my left in his right, slowly rubbing his thumb over my tense knuckles. “Anything you want okay? But I really would recommend the burrito, or you could just half it with me.” I sucked my lips in and only nodded once again, earning a quiet sigh from Ashton’s side of the table.
After ordering 1 breakfast burrito, 2 blueberry waffles, a whole stack of bacon and a plate of hash browns, we began to eat. Ashton completely inhaled his burrito within minutes while I struggled to scarf down the waffles. No doubt everything tasted and smelled delicious, but the continuously growing lump in my throat blocked anything from getting down, even water. Ashton looked up at me as he finished the last chunk of his burrito, cheeks full like a chipmunk and crumbs of egg and tortilla all over his cheeks and lips. For the first time in a while, I let a small chuckle out at this facial expression. He gave me a questionable look, before I leaned over the table and shook my head.
“Hold on lemme clean you up.” I brought my napkin up to his cheeks, softly swiping to remove the mess. He laughed, feeling like he was a little kid again, a sense of home coming back to him after being so far away for so long. I looked into his glossy eyes, a sense of home coming back to me. He was protective, comforting, loving, and warm. His aura provoked those feelings you get inside your own house. Ashton exuded feelings I had been missing for a long time now.
However, our moment was ruined when the bell on top of the restaurant doors opened up causing both of our heads to naturally turn toward the noise. The two lovebirds came walking in, hand in hand with smiles on their faces. The brown-skinned boy’s head settled on us, and his smiling mouth fell onto his girl’s head, planting a small kiss on it. She blushed and began speaking to the waiter that there was 2 of them.
Without hesitation, I hands dropped the spoon and napkin I was holding, causing a loud clinking noise, and I scooted my chair back enough to cause streaks to appear on the floor and stormed out of the restaurant, Ashton following behind me. All Ashton could do was hit Calum on his free shoulder which almost sent him back. Calum’s bottom lip sucked into his mouth letting out a ‘hmph.’
I slammed the door to Ashton’s car on the passenger side and just cried into my lap. After hearing the driver’s side door slam, the car’s atmosphere fell to a bitter heaviness. He just listened to me sob, for the second time today, calming down his own breathing. My hands flew to the dashboard ahead of me and I started slamming my hands against it, hitting the middle console and the sides of the door also. Ashton grabbed my wrists in his and yanked me to look at him.
“Stop letting him do this to you!”
“I can’t! I can’t! Why! Why does he get to do this to me!…” He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell her that he only wanted her for sex, he couldn’t tell her that he likes Nia genuinely, he couldn’t tell her that he never cared. Of course, that’s what he wanted to say because he honestly believed it was all true, but in Calum’s mind, it was the exact opposite.
Calum’s POV / before they saw Y/N and Ashton…
I laid there in the newly made hotel bed, the sheets stained in newly made tears. I let a few slip out of my eyes, the only thing on my mind being her. Seeing her underneath Ashton in lust, watching her break down in his arms, remembering her walking away from me that night when we realized we were done for.
I’m Calum Hood for crying out loud. I don’t cry. I rarely show emotion. I’m either stone cold or happy go lucky. There’s no in between. I never cry, I never get heart broken, because I never get attached. I guess that was my mistake this time around. I lied to myself, I lied to her, now I’m lying to Nia.
“Cal! Get dressed, I’m taking you out for breakfast so you’re energized before soundcheck let’s go!” She cheerfully skipped into the room, me wiping my eyes as fast as I can pretending that I was just now waking up. She kissed my cheek before throwing a random graphic tee and black jeans at me and shut the door. I flopped back onto the bed with the tee and jeans over my face, telling myself that today was a new. I was going to get out of bed, spread a fake smile on my face, and conquer the day.
And then I laughed because that surely wasn’t going to happen, and hopped in the shower.
I was now time for the show, and I sat next to Ashton and Michael, who were both brushing their teeth and trying to speak to each other in mumbles. They knew I thought it was comical, so to get me to finally smile, they kept over exaggerating their sentences, slightly spitting toothpaste on me. I shielded myself, getting up from the couch trying my hardest not to smile and stood outside their dressing room.
After spitting and washing his mouth, Ashton appeared at the doorway and placed his hands on my cheeks.
“Sorry beautiful, was just trying to make you smile.” I bit on my tongue while looking up at him.
“Well I appreciate you guys trying. For a minute there I thought it would work but you guys aren’t that hilarious.” I crossed my arms and he scuffed at me, draping his arm around my shoulder.
“Come here you little shit, I need to talk to you before the show, seriously.” I gulped at the last word. Instead of running away in fear of what was to come, I nodded my head and followed him to the side of the stage where you could see fans walking around, finding their seats, and sitting and watching the stage with anticipation. Ashton took my hands in his before looking out into the growing crowd with a blinding smile.
“These guys,’ he gestured to the fans, ‘are the most important thing in the world to me, next to my family.” I smiled at the girls and boys with tears in their eyes, as they realized they’d be seeing and connecting with the 3 fantastic boys I knew, and Calum. “I never imagined that you would be up there with them.” I turned back to him, my eyes practically bulging out of my head. My hands started sweating in his, my mouth also becoming dry. I didn’t expect to mean this much to him, I thought that we’d have a best friend relationship come out of this, but I didn’t see this coming. He stepped closer, so close I could feel his hot shaking breathe on my forehead and nose.
“I know you’re still hurting over Calum, I get it. And I know you’re not in any shape or form ready to commit to someone again like you did him, even if it wasn’t an official thing. But I promise you, if you let me be the guy for you, I’ll mend you and help bring you back to the happy girl you once were, the one who didn’t feel broken everyday. We’ll go on more breakfast runs, and I’ll sing you new songs I write, and I’ll leave little notes for you around the hotel room to make you smile every chance you get. Please, will you be mine?”
I didn’t have time to react or comprehend any of his words before we heard a large sigh come from the side of us in front of the hallway. I looked up quickly to see my devastated Maori boy with a bouquet of deep red roses in his hands. His shoulders slump and lips in a pout. I pulled my hands back from Ashton’s, an appalled look in his eyes.
He cleared his throat and said, “Calum, who are those for?” Calum’s eyes shot back to the flowers in his hands, and he shook his head, jutting out his chin.
“They’re for, uh, they’re for Nia. I was looking for her right now.” His face instantly read as stone cold, and his collarbones and veins in his arms were clearly visible. Ashton shook his head confused and irritated, “Ok then, go look for her else where.”
Calum pursed his lips letting his head hang low, and jogged off behind Ashton. Even though he was out of his view, he wasn’t out of mine. From the corner of my eye, I saw him stop at the silver waste bin, and angrily chucked the flowers into it, before walking to the other side of the stage. I bit my lip trying to hold back the furiously hot tears, as Ashton turned back to me.
“Now, where were we?
Calum’s POV / before seeing Ashton and Y/N…
I walked backstage toward the boy’s and I’d dressing room, hoping Y/N would be in there relaxing like she usually does. I carried about 8 roses in my hands because the flower shop I went to didn’t carry 12 rose bouquets and the next number up was 20 which in my opinion was too many at this point. I figured I wasn’t doing anything helpful for the situation her and I were in. It was only making our group hangouts uncomfortable, and every time I saw her, my chest caved in and I suddenly couldn’t speak. So, I thought about buying her some flowers as a forgiveness token, and rehearsed telling her my true feelings for her instead of yelling them at her last time.
As I approached the room, I peered inside to see only Michael and Luke and Luke’s girlfriend. They all sat on their phones, all eyes staring up at me when I entered.
“Oooooo Cal, who the flowers for?” Arzaylea spoke up. I let out a chuckle and looked down at the beautiful set of carnations.
“Please tell me they’re not for who we think they’re for?” Luke said, Michael nodding and agreeing with him.
“It’s just a piece offering. I still love and care for her Luke, I just want the old girl I had back…” He sighed, going back to scrolling on his phone.
“She went down the hall to the side of the stage.” Michael said, and I nodded my head at him before striding off.
I could start to here voices down by the side of the stage and making out figures of bodies. I then realized she wasn’t alone. Ashton was there, hands in hers and my blood started rushing through my veins, picking up my adrenaline.
My stomach cramped, my ears turned red, my chest felt like it had the wind knocked out of it, as I heard the dreaded words come out of Ashton’s mouth.
It all was in slow motion. His words, the crowds chatter, my own heart beat. It felt like the world had slowed down, letting the pain linger in my body and letting the pain hit me hard and slow, the worst way possible. My hands clutched onto the paper surrounding the flowers, making her head snap in my direction.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes, the same look she had when I caught her sleeping with Ashton. She was petrified, she was heart broken, she knew she was in the wrong. I guess this was the moment in time when the universe is telling us to stop trying. To stop thinking we’d ever make it as a couple, it was all a fantasy, a dream that slowly was turning into a nightmare.
I wouldn’t have ever called this love, if love hurt this bad.
Omg ok so obviously this is a sorta cliff hanger so if y’all want a part 6, request it! Also read my other stories in my masterlist and await the next part of Gotta Go My Own Way! :)
Request by anon for a one shot when Spencer comes home to find the reader asleep in his bed and wearing one of his button up shirts. Fluff ensues.
I may have taken it a bit further… so here it is!
This case had been hard on all of them. All Spencer wanted to do when he got home was take a shower and pass out in his bed. He unlocked his door and dropped his bag on the kitchen table. He made his way into the bathroom and stopped. There was a pink toothbrush right next to his. You had also left a pair of his boxers and sweatpants on the counter. In his tired state, he had forgotten that he gave you a key just before he left.
He quickly stripped and got in the shower, excited about being able to see you tonight. After one of the fastest showers of his life, he threw on the boxers and sweatpants, walking to the bedroom and opening the door. What he saw had his heart skipping a beat in his chest. You were curled up in the middle of the bed, your hair splayed out on the pillows, and you were wearing his purple button up shirt. The covers were pulled up to your chest, and you were snuggling one of his sweaters.
He slowly walked towards you, taking the sweater from your hands and putting it on the bedside table. You sleepily opened your eyes, lifting your head. “Spencer?”
He climbed into bed with you, pulling you close. “Yes,(Y/N)?”
“When did you get home?”
“Just a little bit ago. Go back to sleep, dear.”
You lowered your head onto his chest, him kissing the top of your head as you fell back asleep.
As you slept, Spencer stayed awake, watching your face as you reacted to the dream you had already fallen into. He wondered what it would be like to be able to hold you like this every night, or know that you would always be right here whenever he came back from a case. He drifted off to sleep, a plan formulating in his mind.
Spencer was already gone when you woke up the next morning. To be fair, you hadn’t woken up until almost noon. You made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth, spotting a note next to your toothbrush.
‘Good morning, (Y/N). I knew you would come here first, so please head to the kitchen next. There’s a small surprise awaiting you.
You quickly brushed your teeth, then walked into the kitchen. There was a small stack of waffles with blueberry syrup waiting on the table, next to another note. This one told you to head to the closet in the bedroom. You ate the waffles, putting some in the refrigerator after you were full.
When you opened the closet door, you were surprised to see all of your clothes inside. Yours were on the right and Spencer’s were on the left. A note was on the back of the door.
'Get dressed, darling. Then come down to the BAU.
You grabbed one of his navy blue button ups and a black pencil skirt. Putting them on, you grabbed a pair of your black pumps. You quickly made your way back to the bathroom and did your makeup, straightening your hair with your straightener that he had stored next to the sink. Finally finished, you found your purse and took off in your car.
When you arrived at the BAU, one of the security guards was holding a pink sign that had your name on it. He told you what floor to take the elevator to, and even escorted you to the elevator himself, handing you the card before the door closed. You flipped it over and saw writing on the back. Another note.
'Ever since you bumped into me in the bookstore, you’ve brightened my life. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and was so grateful that you had made the first move. I couldn’t form a coherent sentence for a good half hour, just nodding along as you filled the silence. Once I could find the words, though, we found out that we have a lot in common. You’ve stayed by my side for six years now, and I know that I want you to stay for many more. So please exit this elevator, and follow the path of flowers down to Garcia’s office.
You did as he said, and knocked on Penelope’s door. She opened it and placed a crown of white flowers on your head, pushing you in the direction of the main office. Along the way, you found more notes, hearing Penelope’s heels clicking as she went ahead of you.
'I never thought that I would love someone again after what happened to Maeve, but you proved me wrong. I love the way you make sure I don’t stay in alone on the weekends. How you always sit next to me, quietly reading when you know a case was hard or when it ended badly.
'I love you. More than you’ll ever know.
‘So, will you make me the happiest man alive and….
Penelope opened the glass door for you as you looked up from the last note. Spencer was down on one knee, surrounded by a heart made of flowers. His team was standing behind him, Derek recording what was happening. You looked back to Spencer, your eyes filling with tears, as he pulled out a small black box and opened it to reveal the perfect ring. You nodded and a strangled “yes” left you as you ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. He pulled away and slid the ring on your finger, holding you close as his team, and the rest of the room, congratulated the both of you.
Joyce kept an eye on the clock as she wiped down the main counter. It was already ten minutes past closing time. The grime and filth of a busy Friday clung to her skin uncomfortably and she wanted nothing more than to get home, curl up with David, and take a nice, long bath.
Though luck was never with her as the quiet yet persistent voice of a downpour hummed through the building. All she had to protect her from the rain was an eight year old umbrella that turned inside out when the wind got too rough. David was also working overtime at the docks, meaning she was going to have to wait by the bus stop and pray it would get there on time. She hated working overtime, but they were barely meeting ends—if they didn’t pay soon, their power was going to get cut off.
The clink of the doorbell followed by the squishing noise of wet shoes let her know she had forgotten to lock up. “We’re closed,” she said, frowning at a particularly stubborn stain on the countertop.
“Sorry.” The voice was young, with an odd nasal inflection to it. That got her to look up.
It was a teenager, probably no older than her daughter, completely soaked from the rain. A sopping mop of curly blond hair hung just over his eyebrows, dripping down his cheeks and onto a worn sweatshirt. His nose and the tips of his ears were red and blotchy, and he was holding his lower lip between his teeth, trying to keep them from chattering. But what really got Joyce’s attention was the dark, swollen bruise over his right eye and the bloody corner of his upper lip.
He was turning away, gaze directed towards his shoes. The sight broke her heart. “Stop,” she said, and the boy did, sparing her a guarded glance. Joyce didn’t know who he was or what happened, if it was a abuse or a scrap, but he was just a kid. Marks like that didn’t belong on a teenager, no matter the circumstances. She couldn’t turn him away. “Would you like some coffee?” She asked. He nodded. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He chose a barstool, and sat hunched over the counter. His focus on a lone string poking out of his sleeve. His hands shook, she noticed. But she wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or something else.
“Cream and sugar?” Joyce called from the kitchen window, her hands busy pouring a cup. He nodded again.
It was a soft tanned color, more milk than caffeine, but what was important was that it was warm. She set the mug in front of him, watching as his trembling fingers closed around it. He took a sip and grimaced—a slight pinching of his nose, something most people wouldn’t notice—but otherwise didn’t complain.
“Here’s the menu, let me know if you want anything,” she told him.
He nodded, again. Not much of a talker. His eyes settled on an enhanced photograph of a stack of waffles. He licked his lips and pointed at it, not bothering to look at the rest of the items. “Waffles,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “The belgian waffles.”
It amused Joyce that he would order breakfast so late at night, but who was she to deny him. She gave him a smirk and took his order into the kitchen. The cooks had already left, leaving her to be the only employee in the building. Though not a chef, she was an adept cook and set out to make the kid some waffles.
When she was done, she topped them off with blueberries on top, and brought the steaming plate to the counter. She could see him practically drooling at the sight. “Whipped cream?” Joyce asked, brandishing the can.
“Yeah,” he said.
Rather than do a simple swirl on the top, as was customary, Joyce drew a smiley face. It ran the risk of the teenager frowning and saying something about how he was too old for smiley faces, like Chloe would, but to her surprise she found the boy smiling at it. It was subtle, a slight upturn of the lips that would probably crack painfully due to the lip, but it was a smile nonetheless.
The way he ate was, well, exactly how you’d expect a teenager to eat. It was messy, and loud, and Joyce suspected he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. That brought her attention back to the black eye and swollen lip, and she wondered if he really hadn’t.
Joyce grabbed a rag from her apron and began scrubbing the areas where his shaking had spilled drops of coffee onto the counter. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually, she hoped. It was like she had hit the pause button—he froze suddenly, fork hovering in the air in front of him.
She didn’t push. It was his right whether he wanted to tell her or not, and she wasn’t going to pry into his private life if he didn’t want her to. She kept wiping down the counter, gauging his reactions from the corner of her eye.
He set his fork down slowly. His gaze went from her, to the waffles, to back at her, like he was debating whether to tell her or not. Joyce waited patiently, keeping to herself in silence. In the end, he swallowed, rose his nose up and said, “Nathan Prescott.”
Oh. She knew he was watching for a reaction and she did her best to maintain a poker face. The Prescotts had the kind of reputation that would last generations. Engraved in the name itself. Animosity that was inherited by your parents, which were inherited by their parents, and so on so forth. Joyce would also admit to sharing that prejudice.
But he was just a teenager. A black eye and a bruised lip didn’t belong on a teenager.
“You can call me Joyce,” she answered with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Nathan.”
She could see the relief flood in his eyes. It hit her, then, that he wasn’t used to a warm reception after sharing his name. Talking to him was easy after that. Just smalltalk, nothing important. She talked about her daughter, about David, she even mentioned William for a brief moment, before she caught herself choking up and changed the subject to the busy day she’d had. Nathan wouldn’t say much more than one worded responses, but it kept his mind occupied as he finished his waffles, and Joyce could tell he appreciated it.
By the end of the night, his skin had gotten a healthy blush and his eyes looked brighter. The weather outside cleared up too; the downpour had lightened to a slight drizzle. Nathan’s calm expression quickly changed to one of horror when he felt around his pockets and realized they were empty. “I don’t have my wallet,” he told her. “But I’m good for it, I swear.”
Joyce suspected as much from any teenager caught in the rain in the middle of the night. “Don’t worry about it, hun. It’s on the house.”
“I’ll pay you back,” he insisted. Joyce didn’t argue, only told him to do as he wished.
As he left the diner she silently prayed that he would find a safe way home.
Saturdays were the worst. Joyce wasn’t against hard work, but she could feel the blisters forming in her feet and couldn’t find five minutes to sit down. But, she was used to it. The tips were good, at least.
They were up to their eyeballs in orders, and, to make matters worse, one of the coffee machines gave out, which meant Joyce had to walk to the other side of the kitchen to refill. She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at her watch every five minutes, watching the hand inch ever so slowly to her lunch hour.
She was bringing a customer his order for breakfast when he said, “Whose ass have you been kissing lately, Joyce?”
“What are you talking about?” She asked, already used to the coarse language the truckers and sailors would have.
Another customer whistled in appreciation and Joyce was about to tell him off, until she realized that he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking past her, at her tip jar. It was full to the brim with—oh my goodness—twenty dollar bills? Among all the bills was a crumpled up piece of notebook paper.
The truckers whistled and cheered as she worked to unscrew the cap. “Who’s yer secret admirer?” One asked.
She fished out the note and unraveled it. There were only two words written in a messy, jagged script. “Thank you.” She smiled and the truckers cooed.
“None of your damn business,” she answered, slapping one playfully in the arm.
She managed to pay the bills that month.
A/N Merry Christmas! I know this isn’t much or Christmas-themed or anything, but I wanted to write how Nathan and Joyce met in Exposure. I know this won’t make up for the lack of recent updates but I hope you enjoy it all the same! :*
Ok, so no one drank milk in this episode but it kind of wasn’t needed, intentions weren’t exactly subtle.
…Also, I knew it! Mwahahaha! Those damned, shot hogging waffles! I know what you’re trying to tell me, waffles. I understand you. What’s that, waffles? @mittensmorgul already shed light on your grand conspiracy? Why, yes. I know, that’s what she does and she does it very well. In fact, I’m sure many others have too. However, I’d still like to break this scene down myself because it’s interesting… well, part of it is. Part of it’s a tired tendency in tv that’s still common and makes me cringe.. *sigh*
Ok, so after Dean wakes up next to a blatant Alice in Wonderland reference, he gets a guy to lend him his phone and asks Sam to meet him at a waffle house(House of deceptiooon!). There’s your exposition.
Scene in the waffle house opens with a shot of sugared up waffle stack leaving the kitchen. Just based on this and our knowledge of waffles in the show, we can gather that this scene will involve deception. The waffles are placed as being part of Dean’s order, but he doesn’t touch them. The camera reminds us of the waffles again in the scene by lazily panning down and blurring out the foreground. Dean never touches these waffles. When the waitress from the night before approaches Dean, she slaps him when he doesn’t remember her. He then pays for the food and leaves the waffles on the counter untouched. The most he acknowledges them is offering them to Sam, who declines. Sam even thinks Dean is drunk, even though he’s not. Could count as another deception, but it’s less important here.
Sounds to me like maybe this girl was the waffles, unfortunately. I’m not really a fan of likening her to food but it’s kind of what’s being written… again, not uncommon. And that point is brought into harsher light when they meet her again in the burger place later on. She starts telling them about the night before and how she was busy. Dean had drank a few tequilas and flirted with her, then according to her, they “Let off some steam” Dean doesn’t remember. I agree with Mittens when she said the waitress was testing him. Her story just doesn’t add up on its own. The only part of what she says is true is that he drank some, got on the bull and flirted some, agreeing to meet her later.
Dean ordered a plate of sugary waffles, vaguely acknowledges them, but leaves them on the table without touching them and following through.
Dean agreed to something sweet from the waitress, flirted with her, but left without touching her and following through.
Request: Celebrating Fathers’ Day with Soonyoung and his three little munchkins Requested by: @keshuasd Word count: 2,020 Genre: Fluff Warnings: Way. Too. Much. Sugar.
A/N: Okay, this was originally Admin Jihooned’s request… Somehow, I ended up writing basically 90% of it. But anyway, HAPPY FATHERS’ DAY! A huge thank you to all the fathers/father figures of us Carats out there, for tolerating with all the nonsense their children had put them through. THANK YOU FOR RAISING US! WE LOVE YOU!
Hi guys! So this request was supposed to be handled by me initially but I got so caught up with the dwc series so admin wooed pretty much took over! So a big big thanks to her! And happy father’s day to all the fathers out there!
(Btw imagining Hoshi as a dad makes me so so so soft on so many levels i nearly died reading admin wooed’s writing.)
- jihooned 😶
Soonyoung wasn’t sure what woke him up that morning at 7AM. The curtains were closed to prevent the sun rays from entering the room, the roads outside their apartment on the 14th storey were quiet for it was a Sunday morning, and his entire family was snoozing peacefully beside him.
Oh, his entire family of five… Now he remembered. A smile began to spread across his drowsy face as he recalled that it was a Sunday: Fathers’ Day. His three precious angels had thrown their tiny bodies onto the bed promptly at midnight, tackling him against the sheets while wishing him a happy Fathers’ Day before accidentally falling asleep in the master’s bedroom, but he hadn’t really minded or bore to wake them up.
Truth to be told, he never really cared for an occasion like Fathers’ Day. He’s always believed that the appreciation for your loved ones should be evident in everyday life and not reserved for a special occasion.
And with his family, in which he’s blessed with a loving, supportive wife and three wondrous offspring, every day feels like Fathers’ Day to him.