#my parents threw a huge party

[anonyfamous13]

May the fourth be with you!

#may the fourth be with you #my parents threw a huge party #please enjoy

[calumfmu]

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

masterlist. requests and inbox are open.

#i can’t get over robin lately #so she’s gonna be the bestie in everything #i love her #my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #fanfic #smut #steve harrington smut #enemies to lovers #dom steve harrington

[writemekpop]

Birthday Blues (Part 1) | Na Jaemin

Summary: When Jaemin thinks you’ve forgotten his birthday, you have the biggest argument you've ever had.

Genre: Boyfriend!Jaemin, angst

Word Count: 1k

Jaemin was furious. It was his birthday today, and you, his girlfriend of three years, had forgotten about it.

When he woke up this morning, he could barely contain his excitement. He was expecting to see you in something red and lacey, get breakfast in bed, and have some delicious morning loving.

But to his disappointment, he woke up to you, moody, sweaty, and hurling into the bin. You were hungover from your girls’ night out the previous evening.

Soon, it was 7PM, and you still hadn’t mentioned Jaemin’s birthday.

“Could we stop by Yuta’s bar before we go home?” You asked. “They’re having a special offer. Five cocktails for five pounds! I heard they make your vomit look all rainbow-y.”

Jaemin scoffed. “That sounds just fantastic. But two nights in a row? Are you sure this drinking thing isn’t becoming a problem? Plus…” He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing… especially today?”

“What’s so special about today?” you said, shaking your head. “Come on, it’s only a mile away. Do you have money for an Uber? I left my wallet at home.”

“You’re so freaking forgetful,” Jaemin snapped.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, jeez! It’s just a wallet.”

“It’s not just that! What about my cat? You forgot to feed Sushi all week while I was in Morocco. She nearly starved to death! Or what about when you forgot where you parked my BMW, and I had to miss Jeno’s leaving party to search for it! And what about my bir-“

Jaemin stopped mid-sentence when he realised that you weren’t listening to him. You were busy typing away on your iPhone.

Jaemin yanked the phone out of your manicured fingers and threw it onto the floor. The screen cracked.

You gasped. Putting your smashed phone into your pocket, you turned to your boyfriend.

“Can we just… go inside?” You pointed at the bar. “I promise, everything will be-“

“Oh my god,” Jaemin said, cutting you off. “Why are you so desperate to go inside? If you really want to see your friends so much then, let’s go.”

Jaemin grabbed your arm tightly and pulled you through the door.

The inside of the bar was pitch black.

“Would you look at that?” Jaemin spat. “It’s empty. Did you forget what time you were supposed to meet up? God, why are you so dumb?”

“Jaem-“ You waved frantically at him, but he wouldn’t stop.

“You’re so disorganised… and- you’re lazy! It’s my birthday and all you’ve done is whine about your own stupid life. Why do you have to be so fucking selfish? We are done, you… you bitch!”

You and Jaemin stared at each other in stony silence. Jaemin was panting, and you were fighting back tears.

Just then, the lights flickered on.

“S-surprise,” came a bunch of unsure voices.

Jaemin turned around to see the shocked and disapproving faces of everyone he loved staring back at him.

A live band in the corner started to play ‘Happy Birthday’, but someone told them to shut up.

The room was filled with fifty of his friends, parents, cousins, colleagues… Haechan was standing in the middle of the crowd, holding a huge three-tier chocolate cake. A big banner saying Happy Birthday, Jaemin hung from the wall.

Jaemin turned to you. “You… did all this?”

Your face was wet with tears. You pushed past Jaemin and ran out of the door.

“Wait!” Jaemin shouted, but it was too late.

“Way to go, buddy,” Renjun said, slapping him a little too hard on his back. “It’s called a surprise party… ever heard of it? Y/n spent weeks organising it.”

Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, throat dry. “I’ve really messed things up, haven’t I?”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Welcome back to Singles Night, bud. We missed you.”

---

Jaemin ran all the way home. When he saw you in the bedroom, his heart surged. You hadn’t left!

You were facing away, standing by the open wardrobe.

“What are you doing?” Jaemin asked, frowning.

You spun around at the sound of his voice. “Packing. You said it yourself, J, we’re done.”

Jaemin ran towards you and pulled the bag from your hands. “I didn’t mean any of that! I was just… angry. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You shook your head, taking the bag back. “Jaemin… you called me a bitch. Do you not respect me at all? How can you expect me to stay with you after that?”

Jaemin crumpled onto the bed, tears threatening to spill. He hugged his knees tight. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

You sat beside him on the bed, shoulders drooping.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered. “You deserve someone… better.”

“No!” Jaemin shook his head. “Please don’t leave me.” He leant his head against your shoulder, crying.

You sat in silence for a moment. Then you sucked in a deep breath and stood up.

“I have to,” you said. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

You walked out of the room. A few moments later, Jaemin heard the thud of the front door.

Jaemin stood up. He looked at the picture frame on the bedside table, it was of you and him, laughing whilst sharing an ice cream.

He picked it up and threw it against the wall, screaming. The glass shattered.

He ran into the living room, head spinning. That’s when he saw it.

There was a small box on the coffee table, wrapped with a purple bow, and a message that said ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAEMIN’. He opened the box, fingers trembling.

Inside was a sleek brass ring. He picked it up and read the inscription on the ring.

“Y/n and Nana forever.”

What a fool he was.

Part 2 coming soon...

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

#jaemin #nct dream #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct imagines #kpop imagines #jaemin fluff #nct fluff #jaemin fanfiction #nct fanfiction #nct drabbles #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct soft hours #nct suggestive #nct x reader #nct 00 line #nct 00 line smut #nct angst

[heartsofminds]

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 

God, this girl is so dramatic. 

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 

Fuck. Why do I always do this? 

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 

Some things just aren’t meant to be. 

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 

“You what?” 

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 

“You did what?” 

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 

#when am i ever on time for posting #but happy late halloween and happy meeting bradley's daughter day!!! #patiently waiting for quincy to become more iconic than bradley on this blog tbh #anyway #i can talk about bradley being a girl dad for ages so best believe more of this duo is in the works #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x you #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw fic #dadley dadshaw if we're being completely honest

[pandorxxx]

Same page

Jake (avatar) x omatikayan fem reader (reader is in her early 20’s.)

Warnings: Cursing, p in v, orgasms, creampie, mentions of rough sex (bruises, dirty talk), smacking, Jake being a dilf, Tummy bulge.

Synopsis: Jake was an honest guy, a great leader, an amazing warrior, and loved by all. However, he has a terrible secret that you just won’t seem to let him live down. What will he do to keep you quiet?

Jake was always a pretty straight forward, honest man. After all, he was the leader of his own clan. Everyone loved, and adored him. He was always a great leader, and a helping hand. He had the perfect family, the perfect clan to run, and the perfect life. Or so it seemed.

It’s safe to say that everyone makes mistakes, everyone slips up once in a while. But jakes mistake was almost career ending. The people wouldn’t forgive him, his family wouldn’t forgive him, and your parents wouldn’t forgive him either.

This incident happened about a year ago. It was jakes birthday, and his warriors threw him a grand surprise party. There were food and drinks, maybe too many drinks. And once the party was over, and Jake was too drunk, he accidentally stumbled into your hut, and made the worst possible decision.

It wasn’t until he woke up to you serving him breakfast that he had realized the gravity of the situation. What made it even worse was that, you were completely swoon by him now. Some would even say crazily obsessed. You’d watch him train warriors from the trees, and watch as he’d embrace his wife as a normal husband would. But God, did it make your fucking blood boil.

You wanted to play it cool. You weren’t the type to blackmail or anything, but you were becoming a mad woman. You needed a hit of him again, and at this point, you’d do anything to get it.

“Just like that, chin up!” Jake directed as he paced slowly to make sure every warrior was holding their bow correctly.

“Good, Good! Hold it.” He commanded, standing in place as his huge arms crossed against his chest, eyeing every warrior in his sight. It wasn’t long until he heard faint steps behind him. He turned around to be met with your tiny figure, and his eyes almost bulged out of his scull.

“Bows down!” He commanded. The warriors immediately listening. “Uh, we’ll wrap this up tomorrow kids! Go on, dismissed! Enjoy your night.” He spoke nervously as he waved the warriors off. Once there were no more in sight, he grabbed your arm, pulling you to a nearby tree.

“What are you doing, y/n?” He asked in a surprisingly calm tone, considering you had been stalking him for a year now. But Jake always prided himself on being a patient man.

You smiled up at him, rubbing circles into his sides. Making him squirm under your touch. “I just wanted to see you. Is that ok?” You pouted, but he knew what game you were playing with him.

“What do you want, little one? You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get me in trouble.” He spoke lowly, holding your wrists in one of his large hands so that you couldn’t touch him anymore.

“You know what I want, sir.” You spoke sensually, eyes falling to his loincloth in wonder. He snapped his fingers, signaling for you to look him in the eyes, and you obliged.

“Never again. Do you hear me? You’re as old as Neteyam. This is not right.” He shook his head, looking around the forest nervously.

“One more time, and I’ll leave you alone. I know you were drunk the first time, and you probably don’t even remember. But I promise, I can fuck you so good. Way better than your wife.” You rambled, eyeing him up and down hungrily.

“Hush! You don’t know what you’re saying. I-I’ve corrupted you. And I feel horrible about it, I really do. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry y/n.” He confessed, looking into your eyes. However, you weren’t looking for an apology.

“Don’t apologize. I loved every minute of it. The things you did to me, the things you said. The love bites you left. I’ve never been fucked like that in my life.” You whined, bottom lip finding refuge in between your teeth.

“Wait. Things I said? W-What did I say to you?” He asked in a confused tone, his eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. You sighed happily, thinking back to that night, as you often did.

“How I was better than Neytiri. How tight my pussy was. How pretty I was. How well I took your fat fucking cock, how-“ you went to continue but he placed his large hand over your mouth.

“Fuck, enough.” He strained, removing his hand from your mouth. You smirked up at him, your tail swaying behind you in anticipation.

“And don’t get me started on the bruises you left on me. Didn’t know I was so into pain until you came around. Now I only want you to hurt me.” You smiled, running a hand down his chiseled abs.

“I hurt you? How?” He asked. Jake was completely oblivious. He wasn’t a stranger to sex, especially with his nympho of a wife. But he couldn’t recall ever hurting Neytiri in the way that he hurt you.

“You were just alittle…rough. But don’t worry. I’m a big girl. And I want it again.” You spoke, grabbing the band of his loincloth. He instinctively grabbed your wrists quickly, stopping all advances.

“I’m not- I can’t do this.” He spoke nervously, running his hands through his hair. You went in, kissing his chest shamelessly.

“Just one more time, please? You can’t fuck me how you did, and just leave me hanging JAKE. I need it, dammit!” You snapped, stomping your foot in anger.

“God, keep your fucking voice down!” He strained, backing you into the tree with one little push, holding you there with one finger.

“I-I’ll do it. But this is the LAST time, you hear me? I don’t wanna hear about this ever again.” He commanded, ripping your loincloth off in anger. He was just ready to get this over with. His entire plan was to give you the most intense fuck of your life, so that you wouldn’t come back to him. Good plan, right?

“I promise! I promise I won’t talk about it again!” You nodded excitedly, eyes bulging out of your scull in excitement. He shook his head in frustration.

“How do you want it?” He asked, getting harder by the second. He was a man at the end of the day, and you were very beautiful.

“Like last time.” You spat, running your hands up his arms. He let out a sigh of frustration, placing his hands on the bark behind you.

“I don’t remember last time, honey. You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, hmm?” He titled his head, peering down at you as he awaited an answer.

You chuckled into your hand like a nervous young girl who was talking to her crush for the first time. He pulled your hand away from your mouth gently.

“No, you can’t get scared on me now. Tell me how I had you. What, was it from the back? Front? Side? In what way was I fucking you to have you so damn obsessed, tell me.” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down you spine. You let out a soft whimper at his words, so ready for him to take you as his.

He began to kiss your neck gently, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. His large hands found refuge on your plump ass, squeezing it gently as he let out a low groan in satisfaction.

You could feel the waterfall pooling from in between your legs. You could also feel his large bulge pressing against your lower abdomen, thumping against your skin in anticipation for what’s to come.

You reached around lazily, untying his loincloth from around his hips. Once it fell, his cock sprung up, hitting his lower abdomen with a very loud, and heavy slap. Oozing precum trickling down his huge shaft, and all the way to his warm sack.

“Pick me up, sir.” You spoke nervously, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck. He smiled down at you, immediately obliging.

He held you up in the air. Giving your plump ass a nice smack. “Mmm, so this was how I had you.” He whispered against your lips, before kissing you passionately. You grabbed the sides of his face to deepen the kiss. His lips were soft yet skilled. Completely taking over as his tongue explored your mouth.

He deemed it the perfect time to slide into you. Holding you up by your ass with one hand, while he grabbed his aching cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up to your entrance.

With one hand, he guided you down onto him slowly, making sure not to hurt you. But it was safe to say that you felt full already. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head in his neck to muffle your loud cries.

“I know, babygirl. Just a few more inches. You’re doing amazing.” You whispered in your ear, sucking on the lobe before completely bottoming out with a loud growl. Your mouth flew opened with a loud gasp. With little to no warning, he began to bounce you on his cock firmly.

You backed up to look at him, placing your shaky hand on his stomach. “S-Sir, too much.” You strained, watching the large imprint form in your stomach with every thrust.

“Does it not feel good, babygirl? Didn’t you tell me you liked the pain that comes with it? You dirty little whore.” He tilted his head, watching his cock completely destroy your guts. The mix of pleasure and pain was consuming you. Similar to that mosquito bite that you continue to scratch; it hurts so good, and you can’t stop.

“I-I know. B-But I-mmm! too good, sir. I-I can’t!” You whined, your body flailing around from his hard thrusts. He began to slow down, thrusting into you at an agonizing pace. If you were being honest, this pace might’ve been worse. You could feel every inch, ridge, and vein as he pumped into you slowly.

“Better?” He asked with a devilish smirk, knowing that you were slowly crumbling beneath him.

“So *thrust* fucking *thrust* big! *thrust*” you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head in satisfaction. He watched in awe, you were completely drunk off of him, just how he liked it.

“Yes, I’m destroying this tight little pussy, aren’t I?” He asked, listening to the squelching sounds followed with every slow stroke he sent you.

“Yesss, sir!” You nodded lazily. He sent you one hard thrust, knocking the wind out of you. Your jaw became slack, looking into his eyes.

“Say Thank you. For giving you the best dick of your life.” He growled, repeating the same hard stroke again, leaving it in you. You gasped loudly, eyes crossing as he overstimulated you.

“Say it, Princess.” He teased, repeating the same action again, this time, rolling his hips directly into your sweet spot. You let out a loud squeal, your eyes shutting tightly.

“Thank you, sir! T-Thank you so much.” You confessed breathily. He let out a loud chuckle, immediately speeding up the pace again. Sounds of skin clapping overpowering your very loud moans.

“And tell me how much you love this dick, hmm? How much you love when I feed it to you…niiiice and slow, juuust like this.” He spoke lowly, reaching up to smack your cheek a few times as he continued to plow into you.

“Yessss, I love it! I-I love it soo much sir!” You whined, cheeks burning from the little smacks he gave you.

“Now, apologize. For being a bad girl all this time.” He spoke lowly, sending you deep strokes right into your sweetspot.

“Mmm, im sorry! Im so-so sorry, sir!” You cried, tears blurring your vision. You were so close. The experience was too intense for you, and you just had to let go.

“Oh my-, I-Im gonna cum.” You whined, voice rippling from his thrusts. You let your head hang back, as loud moans escaped your lips. He was close too, just from looking at you fall apart for him.

He began to kiss your exposed chest, holding you up by your back as he rutted into you. “Cum on daddy’s dick. Go ahead, babygirl.” He moaned, watching your eyes roll back. Your legs began to twitch around his torso. You finally came undone, letting out an intense cry. His cream coated cock being revealed with each stroke.

“Juuust like that. Keep squeezing me like that!” He spoke breathily, his eyes rolling in pleasure as his thrusts lost their rhythm. With one last stroke, he came deep inside of you with a loud growl. He rolled his hips, ensuring that his seed made it to your empty womb, worrying about the consequences later.

“Fuuuck, babygirl!” He grunted, thrusting into you languidly as droplets from his huge load found their way to ground.

You both let out heavy pants, trying desperately to come down from your highs. Sweaty bodies finding refuge in each-others arms as you held one another close.

“About this being the last time…I lied baby girl.” He whispered in your ear, still pumping into you slowly. You both seemed to be on one accord, finally. Because you weren’t letting him go, no matter what.

“So did I…”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak smut #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam headcanons #jake avatar #jake x y/n #jake x reader #jake sully

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Sorry, I just got this image of Steve with a cheesy grin and loving the running joke about him being a parental figure with Eddie.

After Vecna, the first joke gives him a mental image of his future in the RV, and it's Eddie right there beside him. He immediately knows that he wants Eddie to be the father of his children. He just glows when the kids joke about it, and so they do it even more. Of course, it made Eddie annoyed because he's a little slow and still thinks Steve is straight, that he had zero chance with him.

Of course, by the time that Christmas rolls around, they still haven't revealed their feelings. There's a party at Steve's house, and Eddie decides to dress up as Santa as a surprise. He strolled into the living room, shaking his belly.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Eddie bellowed. "Merry Christmas! Hope all you boys and girls have been completely bad this year!"

"Eddie," Steve said with a fond grin. "Where the hell did you find an all black Santa suit?"

"I have my ways," Eddie said coyly. "And you should know that it's not Santa Claus. It's Satan Claws."

He cackled, revealing fake claws, before running off to join the others. Steve watched him, his cheeks red. Robin looked at him in disbelief.

"Unbelievable, I can't believe you're in love with this man," Robin said. "At least my love isn't crazy like him."

She had spoken too soon because a moment later, Vickie entered the house in an all black Elf costume, fangs dripping with fake blood.

"He asked me to be his elf!" Vickie exclaimed as she greeted Robin with a kiss. "It sounded like so much fun!"

"You were saying?" Steve asked as Vickie ran off.

"Well, at least I told her how I felt," Robin said. "Chicken shit."

Satan Claws were a big hit with the kids as well as his Elf. And when the party started to slow down a little, it gave Max an opportunity to talk with Eddie.

"Can I tell Satan Claws what I want for Christmas?" Max asked.

"Sure thing," Eddie said with a grin.

"You know my biggest wish isn't that I could walk again. . .no, I accepted that. What I wish for is my two dads to get their heads out of their asses and tell each other that their madly in love with each other," Max replied.

"Well, it's a huge risk for one of your dads," Eddie chuckled nervously.

"Everything in life is a risk. Getting up out of bed in the morning is a risk," Max said. "You have to decide if Steve is worth it or not."

Eddie shrieked when he felt someone grab him and move him into the doorway of the living room. Suddenly, he was standing in front of Steve, who was looking above his head. Eddie followed his line of sight and saw a mistletoe hanging above their heads.

"Look, Steve - ," Eddie started to say.

Steve grinned and pulled him in by his fake beard, kissing him. Eddie froze for a moment before deepening the kiss. He enjoyed the way Steve giggled into his mouth every time the beard tickled his chin. They weren't even bothered when the kids started to sing, "I saw Daddy kissing Satan Claws." It was all very bad. They broke apart to breathe, laughing with their heads pressed together. Steve touched the pillow under Eddie's coat.

"I work fast," Steve smirked, and Eddie giggled.

"And that boys and girls," Robin said with her finger in the air as though she were a stuffy professor. "Is why you should never kiss a metalhead. They're super, duper fertile."

"Ah," the kids said unison, nodding solemnly.

Eddie grabbed the pillow out from under his coat and threw it at her.

"Fuck off, Robin," Eddie laughed.

"I can't believe you threw your baby," Robin scoffed. "You're a terrible father."

"Don't listen to her, you're a great dad," Steve laughed.

"Aw, thanks, baby," Eddie said.

They kissed again with Robin groaning in the background and the kids starting in on another verse of the song they wrote. It was a good Christmas all around, and Steve looked forward to more to come with Eddie.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #robin & steve #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #platonic with a capital p #robin x vickie #rovickie #rockie #eddie & vickie #platonic viddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet

[2tcs]

Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning

Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.

February 9, 2002

Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.

Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.

February 12, 2002

Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.

Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was.  I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.

March 26, 2002

I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.

April 1, 2002

The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.

On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.

April 23, 2002

Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter. 

What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.

May 20, 2002

🎵Schools out for the summer!🎵 Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!

June 13, 2002

Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.

June 15, 2002

I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!

June 16, 2002

Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.

June 19, 2002

So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.

And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.

June 22, 2002

We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.

June 24, 2002

I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.

July 9, 2002

Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!

Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.

July 29, 2002

It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.

On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it. 

August 6, 2002

School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!

August 15, 2002

Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.

Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.

August 30, 2002

Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.

September 8, 2002

Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.

September 28, 2002

Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.

October 5, 2002

There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.

October 29, 2002

Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.

November 1, 2002

The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.

I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.

November 2, 2002

Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.

November 18, 2002

Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.

November 28, 2002

The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?

November 29, 2002

So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p

December 5, 2002

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.

December 9, 2002

Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.

December 24, 2002

I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.

December 25, 2002

It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.

January 15, 2003

Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.

January 19, 2003

Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?

Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…

January 27, 2003

Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.

February 9, 2003

I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.

February 12, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication. 

#danny phantom #a touch of #dpxdc #journal #oneshot

[artiststarme]

Eddie Saves Steve's Birthday

Part 2 of the "The Party Forgets Steve's Birthday" fic! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie felt awful, in fact, he’d never felt worse. He would rather go back to the Upside Down and get torn into by bats again than have to hear Steve say that the Party only cared about him as the babysitter. He couldn’t think of anyone more deserving of a big birthday celebration than Steve and instead he was working a long shift at Family Video alone without any acknowledgement of his birthday from the kids. It wasn’t fair. 

He used to think Steve had everything. He was the cool jock, rich kid with rich parents, huge house, and tons of friends. Eddie never could have imagined then that Steve was just another lonely kid with absent parents and friends that forgot about his birthday. Even now, they were both part of the same group that had literally risked their lives to save them from the creepy-crawlies in the Upside Down and no one paid enough attention to realize it was Steve���s birthday. 

Just thinking about the defeated look on Steve’s face made Eddie’s heart stutter in grief. He didn’t care what it took, he was going to fix this. But to do that, he was going to need Wayne. 

By the time Eddie got home from his talk with Steve and the minor freakout he had in the back of his van, Wayne was getting ready to leave for work. That just wouldn’t do. So Eddie did the one thing that always worked for him and threw his arms around his uncle in a restrictive embrace. 

“Uncle Wayne, I need your help. It’s absolutely urgent, life-threatening, you could say. I need you and if you don’t help me, I will die.”

Wayne was far too used to his dramatics to fall for that. He patted Eddie’s back before trying to gently pry himself free. “Kid, my shift starts in an hour, I gotta get goin’.”

“No, I’m serious, I really need your help. Everyone forgot Steve’s birthday today! He’s devastated, I’m horrified, Robin is on a date, and the kids are unhelpful! I need you!” Eddie broke out his most potent puppy dog eyes and blinked up at his uncle. 

Wayne sighed. “I’ll tell Craig I have a stomach bug. What do you need me to do?”

“Steve gets off work at ten tonight. I need you to distract him towards the end of his shift and get him to come back here. Kidnap him if you have to, that’s what the Chief does and it always seems to work.”

“Kidnap him? Eds-” Wayne started but Eddie cut him off. 

“Please! I have to steal a camera from Jonathan, break into the Harrington house, and bribe the bakers into giving me a cake. I don’t have time to force Steve to come over too.”

“Now wait a minute, all of that sounds criminal. Eddie-” Wayne sounded the most alarmed that he ever has but Eddie took it in stride. 

“Wayne. He said he hasn’t celebrated his birthday in years, literal years. And considering you have a birthday every year, that’s a lot of birthdays that he’s spent alone. So we have to get him here by any means necessary and show the pretty bastard that we love him. Okay?”

Wayne looked at him for a long time but eventually he gave a little nod. “What time should I head out?”

~*~*~*~

Steve wasn’t used to seeing Wayne around town and he had never once come into Family Video. So when the bell rang and swung open to reveal a stressed Wayne Munson, he didn’t really know what to think. Wayne looked around the store slightly before walking directly up to the counter. 

Steve nodded at him and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Um hey, Mr. Munson. Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?”

Wayne scratched a hand through his beard before humming. “You, uh, you have any good recommendations?”

“You want to hear about my recommendations? Really?” Steve looked at him, flabbergasted. No one had ever cared to ask what he watched. 

“‘Course, that’s why I asked. What do you like to watch? Anything good?”

“Have you seen Back to the Future? It was a little hard to understand because he actually goes back to the past and I think he wanted to bang his mom, it was really confusing. It’s a good one but I’m not sure if it’s really good or if I only liked it because I was super high.”

Wayne nodded at him, not even phased at his enthused rambling. “That does sound interestin’. Any other ones?”

“Oh my god, yes! Have you seen Clue? Tim Curry is in that one, he’s the guy from the Rocky Horror Picture Show that has the nice legs. He shows less leg in this one but oh, you should see Miss Scarlet. It’s truly the best of both worlds, Mr. Munson, let me tell you-”

If this was the best his night got on his birthday, Steve would be content. Wayne was listening to him rant about his current favorite movies with rapt attention and kept asking questions in the appropriate places to keep the conversation going. Steve couldn’t even remember the last time someone actually wanted to listen to him talk. The Munsons always managed to surprise him in the best way possible. What could get better than this?

~*~*~*~

With Wayne on Steve Duty, Eddie had more than enough time to coerce Jonathan into letting him borrow a camera, sneak through Loch Nora to collect some of Steve’s favorite tapes, and guilt-trip the bakery ladies into giving him a cake on short notice.  

After assuring Jonathan that he wasn’t trying to record a sex tape with any of his equipment, he lent him a small Polaroid (he didn’t trust the odd request from Eddie so there was no way in hell he was letting him borrow a tape recorder). Eddie didn’t argue though. He just needed something to commemorate Steve’s first birthday in the family and a Polaroid would do just that. 

The trip to the bakery though took longer than anticipated. Florence, the owner of Flo’s Baked Goods, was not in a generous mood at 4 PM on a Tuesday. Luckily, Eddie was known for being very persuasive which worked in his favor. 

“Florence, come on. Do me a favor, please?” He asked with his most woeful puppy dog eyes.  

“Edward, I told you already, you need to place an order ahead of time.”

“Florence, my dear, I didn’t anticipate my grandma to die! I didn’t have time to place an order and I need a cake for her funeral tonight. Please Flo? For me?” His lip wobbled slightly as if tears were close to follow. He needed to pull out all of his stops to get that cake. 

She sighed in exasperation. “I can give you a small one, alright? And you’re not getting extras, I actually have orders to work on.”

“That’s okay! Thanks Flo, I appreciate it and so will St- my dead grandmother. May she rest in peace.”

That worked out great! Sure, Eddie had to make an extra stop at the grocery store for some red frosting to write Steve’s name on it but the smile on his face would be well worth it. Or rather a pitying grimace. 

Unfortunately, Eddie was not a baker or a designer by any means. So the red lettering on the cake turned into a drippy mess that looked more like a crime scene than a birthday cake. He also didn’t have great space management. Instead of making the font smaller to fit on the cake, Eddie largely wrote “BIRTH STEVE” and couldn’t fit anything else. Eager to make the best of the situation, he threw some colorful sprinkles on there to liven things up. Ah, Steve would love it. 

The situation only got more complicated when he went to pick up Steve’s favorite movies from his house. Eddie parked his van in the driveway and picked the lock to the front door. Steve was at work, his parents weren’t home (not that they would have let him in if they were), and the emergency key under the doormat wasn’t there so he had to take drastic measures. 

He grabbed a few of the movies in Steve’s room that he knew were his favorite that he didn’t have at the trailer. Fast Times, Back to the Future, Clue, The Breakfast Club, Teen Wolf, basically everything that Eddie hated but he was willing to watch anything for Steve. He grabbed a few cassettes too in case they decided to listen to music instead. All of the tapes were disappointingly mediocre and Eddie made a mental note to introduce him to some real music. After that, Steve would never listen to fucking Tears for Fears ever again. Or Wham!, the bane of his existence. 

What Eddie had neglected to consider was how the nosey neighbors would react to seeing a random van in the Harrington driveway and a random kid messing with the front door. He should’ve expected the cops to come. He opened the front door to the barrel of Hopper’s gun.

“Son of a bitch, Chief! What the hell are you waving that around for?!” Eddie exclaimed, dropping his small duffel bag and throwing his hands in the air. 

“What the hell? Munson?” Admittedly, Hopper had shown up at a bad time. Eddie was lugging a duffel bag out of the Harrington house to his hastily parked van in a neighborhood he definitely didn’t belong in.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he told him quickly. 

“It looks like you’re robbing the Harrington’s place,” Hopper said deadpan.

“Well, I’m not!”

“What are you doing then?” Hopper asked him sarcastically. 

“I’m not robbing him! I’m trying to save Steve’s birthday. I was just getting some supplies.” Eddie explained hurriedly.

“It’s Steve’s birthday today?”

“Yep and he’s going to be pissed if he has to come bail me out of jail because you arrested me. Think about that,” Eddie said, pointing an accusing finger at him. Wayne and Steve would both be pissed if he got arrested again. 

“That doesn’t explain why you’re stealing his stuff,” Hopper stated in confusion.  

“I’m throwing him a little party back at my place, we’re having a movie night so I had to get his favorite movies. I don’t have this teen drama shit. But Steve does and I’m trying to give him a nice night.”

Hopper just looked at him blankly.

“So can I go? I know you don’t want to break Stevie’s heart by arresting me on his birthday and don’t you want to get home to your family this lovely Tuesday evening? Who needs the extra hassle of detaining little ole me?”

“Goddammit Munson, just get out of here. You’re making the neighbors antsy. And don’t do this again.” Hopper warned him before walking over to his cruiser. 

“Copy that, Chief! Keep protecting the people or whatever the fuck your pledge is. Have a nice night!” And then he was off again. 

~*~*~*~

Steve must’ve talked about his favorite movies for hours before he realized it was time to close and Wayne was still there. “Um, Mr. Munson? I’m sorry, you probably had things to do today and I wasted all your time ranting at you. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be, kid. It was nice hearing from you. Say, I’m sure Eddie would want to hear about some of those movies too. Could you come over tonight and tell us some more about ‘em?” Wayne offered. 

Steve could tell a pity offer when he saw one though. “No, that’s okay. I can tell him another time. I have to start closing if you want me to check you out?”

Wayne sighed and made direct eye contact with him. “Listen kid, I know today’s your birthday and you aren’t spending it alone. So, you can either follow me back to the trailer or I’m gonna kidnap you and drag you there. You got me?”

Steve just looked at him in shock. What was up with older father figures trying to kidnap him? Was there something on his face that told them, ‘hey, I’m a good target for kidnapping, take me’? Was Wayne in kahoots with Hopper because this trend was getting a bit ridiculous.

“Wayne-”

“Nope, Eddie wants you there and I want you there. What are you going to do instead? If you have a good excuse, I’ll leave right now and break that boy’s heart.” Wayne looked at him expectantly. When it became apparent that Steve wasn’t going to say anything, he nodded. “Good, I’ll see you at the trailer. Drive safe.”

What the hell? Was that how age twenty was going to be? Confusing and full of ups and downs? Jesus Christ. 

Steve finished closing the store quickly and made his way to Forest Hills. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on today but if they wanted to spend time with him, he wasn’t going to turn them down. The Munsons were some of his most favorite people and it’s not like there was a long list of people that wanted him around. 

As soon as he opened the door to the trailer, everything made a little bit more sense. There were party streamers hanging from the walls, the most gruesome cake he had ever seen sitting on the table, and birthday hats on top of a beaming Eddie and an indifferent Wayne. Tears filled Steve’s eyes as he laughed. He couldn’t believe that they’d done all of that for him.

“Happy birthday, Stevie! I love you!” Eddie yelled, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and pulling him into a bruising hug. 

Wayne patted his shoulder a bit awkwardly and murmured, “I love you too kid but I ain’t kissin’ ya.”

Steve could hardly even speak through the rush of happiness he was feeling. Eddie had found a way to make his birthday special again. He’d cared enough to spend his day organizing a nice night for Steve to feel loved again, to feel happy on his special day. Sure, not everything was fixed and there was still a small amount of hurt that the kids and Robin hadn’t done anything. But he had Eddie and Wayne and they were all he really needed. He finally had a family and he couldn’t be any happier. Eddie was right, ‘86 truly was a great year. 

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#The kids see a polaroid taped to Eddie’s fridge a few weeks later of them smiling in front of the cake #That's how they find out they missed Steve’s birthday. #Eddie holds a grudge against them and bars them from seeing Steve for awhile #He also murders all of their characters in DnD but that's neither here nor there #stranger things #steddie #steddie ish #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #chief hopper #uncle wayne #wayne munson #jonathan byers

[archer-antiope]

ranking other fantasy high characters by the amount of grudge that kipperlilly must hold (and the reasons for those grudges)

jem peppercorn. 10/10. you had the chance to get in on killing kalvaxus and you just ate the buffet the entire time?! where is the drive?! where is the PASSION?!

ostentatia wallace. 18/10. chosen one of her god, probably insulted kipperlilly to her face like 20 times but kept forgetting who kipperlilly was

max durden. 5/10. mostly rulebreaking but also interrupting during the assembly that one time

antiope jones. 10/10. canonically comes from a family that's been super involved in public service and/or military. there's probably like 200 tragic backstories up in there. AND she keeps being voted leader by her party, but keeps TURNING IT DOWN?!

ficus. 2/10. probably accidentally threw a hackysack in her direction, went "oh shit, my b," then offered her a puff to puff-puff-pass. did not seem to care that it was in front of the druid teacher

katja cleaver. 10/10. canonically very rich old money horse girl with a parent who abandoned her and the other saves the world on an obnoxiously regular basis. prime tragic backstory stuff there!!!! why can't her rich parents be interesting like KATJA'S rich dad?!?!?!?

bud cubby. 9/10. somehow keeps getting himself involved in bad kids shenanigans???? you are supposed to just be the post man?!?!?!?!

ayda aguefort. 100/10. what the fuck. you grew up in a pirate city and made a library and are the daughter of the principal and also you're a hugely powerful wizard and also you're VOLUNTARILY dating one of the bad kids?! grow up?! kipperlilly would want ayda in her party so bad

penny luckstone. 1000/10. previously mostly-ordinary halfling girl whose greatest outstanding quality was the number of her siblings who got mysteriously kidnapped and was looped directly into riz's backstory and why the bad kids saved the world that first time, THEN was a straight-a student who nearly ran for student government, THEN got a super-special way to graduate herself and her party, THEN got an elite invitation to the secret society of rogues, THEN proceeded to wreck that society's whole shit??? kipperlilly HATES her ass. she wants to be penny SOOOOO bad!!!!!!

#fh #fhjy #i encourage you to add whoever else you can think of #if i don't beat you to it lol #my post #kipperlilly copperkettle

[date-a-jew-suggestions]

HI I WANNA HEAR ABOUT MONSTER HIGH JEWISH HEADCONNANS PLSSSSS

HIIII I finally have a chance to respond to this

Keep in mind this is gonna be loosely based on g3 canon but also it’s kind of just based on me customizing/playing with my dolls and deciding what their vibes are, so I’m probably gonna contradict canon a lot lol

I like to imagine there’s a synagogue nearby monster high that has like a ~20% monster population since the school opened up. The rabbi is very enthusiastic about including them, he really enjoys all of the new questions about scripture that they raise. When one of the people at his synagogue came to him to tell him that he had constructed a Golem, the rabbi was thrilled. He was not expecting a flesh golem, but beggars can’t be choosers.

So Clawdeen and her siblings are Jewish on their mom’s side. Holiday dinners are huge and chaotic events, and siblings usually end up fighting over the lamb bones on Passover. When Clawdeen brought Draculaura home to meet her parents, her mom made a joke about blood libel that had to be explained to Draculaura.

Frankie’s only parent is their dad who constructed them, and he’s Jewish. After an ongoing debate about when Frankie should have their b’nei mitzvah, since they started school after being constructed only a few weeks prior, the rabbi threw his hands up in the air and said it was past time since clearly they were at least 13 in terms of maturity, so Frankie got b’nei mitzvah’d on what was technically their 1st birthday. Their friends wore their monster ball outfits to the party afterwards >:3

Frankie’s dad is very supportive of their nonbinary identity, and when Frankie said they were nervous about introducing him to their girlfriend, he told them that they had nothing to worry about. If she made Frankie happy, he would absolutely support the relationship. He was not expecting his child to bring home the pharaoh’s daughter to the Passover Seder. It was awkward, to say the least. After several meetings with the rabbi and a lot of family drama, Frankie’s family came to the conclusion that Cleo was welcome in their home. After that she started coming to holiday dinners often, and Frankie’s dad came to understand that her father was not treating her well. This solidified Cleo’s place in his home- how could a Jew turn away someone who was wronged by the Pharaoh? Cleo and Frankie stayed together through high school, eventually getting married. Cleo converted as soon as she moved out of her father’s house.

#sorry this was long lol #jumblr #monster high #jewish positivity

[romione-trope-fest]

Title: Reconnect

Trope: Cockblocker Harry

Rating: T (for language and innuendo)

Summary: Ron returns tonight from a three week mission so Harry knows it’s the perfect night for a Golden Trio pizza party.

Author’s Note: Thanks to adenei for all her beta help and encouragement to get back in the writing game.

***

“Hermione?” Harry called, closing the door to his best friends’ flat behind him, careful to not upset the items stacked in his right arm.

“Harry?” Hermione’s muffled voice yelled back.

“Who else would it be?”

There was a long pause before she yelled back. “I-I wasn’t expecting you. Give me a mo’.”

Harry walked to the dining area off of their kitchen and set his load down on the table.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, as she entered the room a few minutes later. She was pulling her hair out from under the neck of an old jumper of Ron’s that she wore with leggings and looked flustered.

“Rough day?”

“What? No.”

“You just usually don’t rush to change out of your work clothes. It’s barely 5:00.”

“What are you doing here Harry?” Her tone had an unusual edge to it that took him by surprise.

“I caught sight of Ron finishing up his briefing! He’ll be on his way here soon.”

For the first time ever, Ron had gone out on a mission without him. Sure, there had been some short day recons here and there where they had been separated but never something the length of this. For the last 22 days, Harry had been on the Auror floor without his best mate. It left him feeling unsettled.

It didn’t help that this was the absolute peak of Quidditch season and his wife was often sequestered with her team prior to matches. In fact, Ginny had left on Wednesday for her team-provided flat in Holyhead and Harry was missing her terribly.

He had been spending quite a bit of time with Hermione, who usually seemed grateful for the company. But tonight, she almost seemed irritated to have him there.

“I know. He sent word yesterday that he would be home this evening. There was a hold up with their portkey in Argentina because of the—what’s all this?” Hermione gestured to the kitchen table, a puzzled look on her face.

“Pizza from Ron’s favorite place and a 12 pack!” Harry smiled. “With Ginny gone, I thought it would be a great opportunity to have dinner and drinks and hear about Ron’s mission. I think they had some downtime. I mean, three weeks. I want to hear all about Argentina and I have to tell him about the Robbins’ debacle last week.”

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I actually had plans for Ron and I tonight.”

Harry shook his head. “Ron’s been gone for three weeks. He’s probably tired. He’ll be happier to stay in. You’re not even dressed to go out.”

Hermione stared at him.

What was her problem today? If she kept this attitude up, there was bound to be a classic Ron and Hermione row tonight.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Harry, I—”

She was cut off by the sound of the Floo roaring to life and Ron stepping through.

The scowl on Hermione’s face transformed into a huge smile as she threw herself at Ron. “Welcome home!”

The two began engaging in a very enthusiastic kiss while Harry stood awkwardly nearby, waiting for them to break apart. He tried to be patient but when Ron’s hands drifted to Hermione’s arse, he loudly cleared his throat.

“Harry!” Ron pulled away from Hermione and gave him a surprised look.

“Welcome back!”

“Uh, thanks. I didn’t expect you to be here.”

For some reason, the forced smile was back on Hermione’s face. “Harry brought pizza and drinks.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at Hermione. “Oh! I thought you had other plans.”

“I was just telling Harry that same thing.”

Ron’s stomach chose that moment to loudly growl.

Ron gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, the pizza smells really good.”

Hermione sent an exasperated look in his direction but the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned.

“Then let’s eat. But I’m afraid we can’t drink too much. Ron and I have to help my parents with something in the morning so we can’t be hungover. In fact, we probably should get to bed early.” Hermione walked into the kitchen.

“It’s not even 5:30 yet! You can always take a hangover potion,” Harry suggested.

“We’re out,” Hermione called back and he heard the loud clanking of plates.

“You’ve barely had time to sit and she’s already got chores for you at the in-laws,” Harry muttered quietly to Ron.

“I've been gone for three weeks so some stuff has built up. And I think she missed me.”

“Ah. I have to admit, I missed having you around. It’s weird, you know? Doing the Auror thing without you. Just felt odd.”

Ron gave a guilty glance toward the kitchen before turning back to him “Yeah, you’re right. I missed you too.”

******

“I’m telling you Hermione, we have to go. This spot we found was amazing. There’s no one else around for miles,” Ron said, taking another bite of cake.

“What do you think, Hermione? Are you up for a nature vacation? No museums or libraries?” Harry teased.

The sun had set and now a full moon was shining through the large window in Ron and Hermione’s dining area. It had been a great night to just hang out and talk to his best friends, even if Hermione still seemed on edge.

Hermione played with the empty beer bottle in front of her. “The part where no one else is around certainly sounds appealing.”

Ron grinned and squeezed one of her hands. “By the way, love, this cake is amazing. Some of your best work ever.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you. It’s the third one I’ve made since you’ve been away and I think I finally figured out the secret.”

Harry froze with the fork partway to his mouth. “You made this?”

“Yes, I made it!” Hermione snapped. “Did you think I was incapable of making my husband’s favorite cake or that I just wouldn’t bother?”

The response both was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it with his bite of cake. They always joked about Hermione’s less than stellar kitchen skills and here she was, acting completely offended.

What was her deal tonight?

Harry searched his brain for a change of topic. “Wait, you’re going to your parents tomorrow? What about Ginny’s match?”

“We’re not—I mean, yes. That’s why we need to leave early. So we can get everything done before Quidditch.”

“We’ll meet you at the family entrance at 2,” added Ron.

“Sounds like a plan. If the match doesn’t go too long, we can grab dinner at Olliet’s Pub. I know Ginny would like to see Ron.”

“Maybe we could all come by Ginny’s place after that and have some after dinner drinks and play cards,” Hermione suggested, some of the ice finally melting from her tone.

Harry hated to ruin the moment but...

“Er… look, Ginny and I haven’t seen each other for three days. I really planned to spend some time, you know…”

He glanced at Ron. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know that Harry was shagging his sister—they were married, for Merlin’s sake. Still, he always felt it was best to phrase it delicately in front of his wife’s brother.

“Alone.”

Hermione’s head snapped in his direction. “What?”

“Uh, you know. Reconnecting.”

“Oh! Reconnecting? I completely understand,” Hermione said with a smile that looked a little forced.

“Yeah. So I was thinking—”

“I mean, you haven’t seen each other for half of the week. Half the week. Of course you want to spend some time, just the two of you.”

“Right.” The word fell out of Harry’s mouth slowly.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

Hermione’s smile dropped. “Get the hell out of here!”

Harry couldn’t tell if the noise Ron made was because he was laughing or choking.

“I understand that you want to ‘reconnect’ with your wife because I have been dying to ‘reconnect’ with Ron every day for the last three weeks now,” she fumed, using her fingers to make little quotation marks in the air.

“And when you showed up, uninvited, I was waiting in the bedroom for him to come home so that we could ‘reconnect’ until our little hearts were content and then order takeaway.”

“I-uh…”

“And when our takeaway was gone, we were going to ‘reconnect’ again. And then we would have dessert. Or maybe we would eat this cake off of each other’s bodies while we ‘reconnected’. I didn’t have it all planned out other than spending a considerable amount of time ‘reconnecting’.”

“So-sorry, I wasn’t—”

“Thank you for the pizza and thank you for the drinks. I am ready for the reconnecting part of the evening and this is the last time I’ll ask you nicely to excuse yourself.”

Hermione stood and grabbed the final two beers out of the carton on the table and gave Ron a lingering kiss on the lips. “Don’t be long.”

Harry watched her storm down the hall to the bedroom, his eyes wide and jaw still hanging open.

“Why didn’t she just—”

Ron pushed back his chair and stood, an amused and proud grin on his face. “She was laying on the hints pretty thick.”

Harry replayed the last two hours in his mind in a matter of moments and felt his cheeks heat up as he cringed at his oblivious behavior.

Harry covered his face with his hands. “I’m an idiot. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You made me feel bad with all that stuff about missing me!”

“Fuck!”

Ron gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for dinner. Lock up on your way out, mate. I’m going to go ‘reconnect’ Hermione’s brains out.”

#submission

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Emotional

@jegulus-microfic March 20 Word count 901

Previous part First part

The second he entered the house, he knew.

“Salazar’s balls!” He muttered under his breath. Remus turned his face to glance at him while still watching the hallway ahead for whatever had upset Regulus. “Be wary of what you say, Lupin. In fact, stay silent.” Remus looked at him questionably but kept his mouth shut. “My parents are here.”

“Regulus!” Orion Black appeared from the kitchen. “We wondered where you had gotten to.” Orion had a huge smile plastered on his face as he strode across the hall and embraced a horrified Regulus. 

“Good—Good evening, Father. I thought Mother was going to send word when you decided to return home.” Orion pulled away but left his large hands on Regulus’s shoulders, a smile still adorning his face. 

“Your mother had some business to take care of in London, so I thought I’d accompany her and see my loving son.” Regulus had to work extremely hard to keep the perplexed look off his face. His father had never been this friendly to him before. His father had always been cold and distant with him, only interacting with his sons if he was forced to by his wife. 

Remus hadn’t moved a muscle since the Black patriarch had appeared, but he still caught Orion’s attention. “And who is this? I don’t think I’ve met your little friend. Introduce us Regulus.” Remus tensed. Regulus looked at him. He would have laughed at the way Orion had called Remus little when the young man towered over the elder Lord Black if the situation hadn’t been so odd. 

“An acquaintance from Hogwarts, Father. Remus Lupin.” Orion narrowed his eyes once Regulus had spoken his name.

“Hmmm,” Orion hummed as he took in Remus’s appearance. “You’re the young werewolf who is in a relationship with my eldest son.” Remus swallowed nervously as Regulus tried to get his father’s attention away from Remus. “Not now, Regulus.” Orion waved him away. “Now, tell me, Remus, how is Sirius? I hope you are treating him well, or else you’ll have me to answer to.” He chuckled as he slapped a hand to Remus’s back. 

Remus turned his head wide-eyed, staring at Regulus. 

“Papa, are you feeling alright?” Regulus asked, looking warily at his father. 

“Of course, why do you ask?” Orion said pleasantly, Turning away from Remus.

“You’re being friendly.” Orion’s face fell. Regulus suddenly felt very guilty. “Sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“No, no, it’s understandable. Why don’t you and Remus run along, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” The smile was back on his face. Regulus looked worriedly at his father before he decided he needed to ensure he didn’t mention what had just been said to Walburga. 

“Papa, you’re not going to tell Maman about what you just said about Remus?” He prayed he hadn’t just made a mistake. 

“So he is a spy then?” Both boys paled. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe don’t mention how you know each other. You know how she reacts when you’re brother is mentioned.” 

The front door burst open as the last words left Orion’s mouth, and Walburga Black stood framed in the doorway. 

“Ah, a welcoming party, how kind.” Her sharp voice was free of any emotional tones. “Regulus, you are well, I presume?” Regulus shook the shock from himself, letting his mask fall back over his features.

“Yes, Maman. May I take your bag?” She thrust her dragon hide travel bag into his hands as she unclasped her cloak and threw it towards the wall, where a narrow cupboard opened and caught it before blending back into the wall again. 

“You appear to have a house guest, Regulus.” She sneered in Remus’s direction.

“Yes, I apologise, Maman. The Dark Lord paired us together for an assignment, and it was easier to keep him and less pungent than having to keep retrieving him from the wolf pack.” Her face turned up even more in disgust. 

“You brought a werewolf into our ancestral home?” She asked, her nostrils flaring. 

“I assure you, Maman, he is housebroken.” Her sneer turned to a smirk. 

“Well, as the Dark Lord has seen fit to pair you, I suppose I can allow it for a time.” Her eyes narrowed again. “Keep a close eye on the wolf. Do not let him wander where he pleases.” She left them in the hallway as she disappeared upstairs to her office. 

Orion smiled at them and patted them both on the shoulder before returning to the kitchen. 

“Well, that was pleasant,” Remus smirked down at Regulus. 

“Oh, shut up, wolf! Come on, let’s go warn the others.” 

They didn’t have long to let James know what had happened before they were called down to dinner. 

“I see you’re ‘friend’ hasn’t dressed for dinner,” Walburga noted as they sat, the three Blacks in their formal wear. Remus, to Regulus’s amusement, had rejected the lending of the dress robes Regulus had offered and didn’t blink at Walburga’s comments. 

The dinner went well. Orion was back to his silent self and barely spared a glance at Regulus. It wasn’t until she excused herself at the end of the meal that Orion opened up again. He cast a silencing charm on the dining room door. 

“So, you’re trying to kill the Dark Lord?”      

Next part

#march 20 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fic #regulus black #james potter #dead gay wizards #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #remus lupin #sirius black #orion black #walburga black #james x regulus #regulus x james #regulus and james #james potter x regulus black #james and regulus #guess whos back #emotional

[sunflowerreid]

Hey, I love your writing and I have an idea for a fic if you're interested:

Spencer and reader are in an established relationship and one day she and some other team members, maybe JJ are watching Reid playing with some kids (it may be Henry and Jack) and JJ makes a comment how Spencer will be the best father or something like that. Reader then feels worried that Spencer might want kids. She knows she doesn't want to have kids ever. So then she starts distancing herself from him and acting a bit cold. Then Spencer worries why is she like that and confronts her. And in the end after a lot of angst there is a happy ending where they want and chose to be child free.

Feel free to ignore this request if it's not something you'd want to write. Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language.

Hope this is okay :) let me know if you’d like anything else written x

Forever yours - S.R

Warnings: angst

You knew from a young age that you never wanted to have children, the thought of raising a child scared you to death, the responsibility was too much. You hadn’t had a smooth childhood, every conversation between you and your parents ended in an argument, every night you were left alone with your siblings while they went down to the pub, you practically raised them by yourself. You couldn’t go through that again. The sleepless nights, the crying and screaming, the financial debt. None of it.

Spencer knew about your childhood, he knew you hadn’t had it easy and neither had he, the only difference between you and him was his ability to comfort and get along with the younger victims, he knew just what to say to calm them down while you watched uselessly from the sidelines. Your biggest fear was that he wouldn’t accept that you didn’t want a family, that he’d leave you after you told him so you kept quiet, too scared to ruin what you have with him. But right now you regretted not telling him, the insecurity that you aren’t good enough for him rose every time you saw him laughing with Henry, he couldn’t possibly be happy if he stuck with you he’d never have the chance to play with his own kid, a mini version of him instead of his godson. Henry was absolutely adorable with his shoulder length blonde hair, big green eyes and glistening smile, Spencer absolutely adored his godson and did everything he could to make him smile.

The whole team and their families had been invited round Rossi’s house for a dinner party, JJ and Hotch brought their kids along, both currently bored out of their minds so it wasn’t long before Spencer was crouched down at Henry’s and Jack’s level showing them a magic trick, you could hear a squeal of delight come from both of them when Spencer made a coin appear from behind Henry’s ear, Jack eagerly waiting for his turn. Everyone else was stood by the counter, glass of red wine in hand while they admired the interaction between the three of them. JJ made her way over to you while you giggled at the smile on Spencers face, “He’s going to make such a good parent one day, you’re both going to be” she said smiling, slightly tipsy. She didn’t notice your smile fading away slightly, “Thank you JJ” you replied calmly, your eye-line returning to the huge smile plastered on Spencers face. You couldn’t give him that, you couldn’t give him the one thing nature intended you to and you hated yourself for it, he’d be better off with someone who could. Someone like JJ.

You remembered how Spencer used to look at JJ, the same way he looks at you, the way his eyes lit up when she waked into a room, the way he threw his head back when he laughed as hard as he could when she told a joke. Who wouldn’t? She was absolutely gorgeous, so kind and nurturing even after everything she’d been through. You were the opposite, socially awkward and quiet, just average nothing special, you had no idea why Spencer had stuck himself with someone like you. Well it obviously had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t have JJ but still, he could’ve done so much better and you’re realising all of this now.

“You okay honey?” Spencer asked sweetly as he got into the car after saying goodbye to everyone, “Just tired” you replied softly as he started the car. Spencer placed his warm hand on his usual position on your thigh, started slightly as you tensed up, you’re never tense around him. He removed it slowly placing it onto the steering wheel instead. As you arrived back home you were quick to run up to the bedroom to change, not wanting to have to break the news to Spencer, you didn’t want to rip his dream away from him. You climbed into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your neck as you felt Spencer climb in the other side, shifting over to reach for your waist and pull you into him. You loved it when he did that, when he placed his head in the back of your neck and kissed you goodnight while holding you tightly, scared to let go, but you couldn’t tonight you had to get away before you said something you’d regret. “Too warm” you mumbled as an excuse, squirming away from him. “What’s wrong angel, please talk to me did I do something wrong” he whispered sadly when you didn’t take his hand in yours, like you normally would when you didn’t want to cuddle. “Go to sleep Spencer” you said in an annoyed tone, maybe if you acted in the way your parents did to you he’d realise how wrong you were for him, how much better off he’d be without you.

Three days. Three days without so much as a touch from Spencer. You could feel your heart breaking every time you saw him, every time you looked into those beautiful sad eyes, he didn’t know what he’d done wrong, he’d tried his best to communicate with you but you just shut down, walls back up to where they used to be. “Are you going to tell me what I did wrong” he asked sternly as you both got home after finishing a tough case, emotions running high. “Nothing wrong Spencer” you replied, turning away from him to avoid making eye contact. “No, no more of this, just stop it, stop acting like everything’s fine because I know somethings wrong so please enlighten me” he said raising his voice slightly. “Just leave it alone Spencer I don’t want to talk about it” you said trying to stay calm, still not facing him. “For fuck sake y/n, what’s wrong with you why are you acting this way!” he shouted his arms raising before falling back down to his sides “Come on are you going to say anything, I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you? Is this it angel is this the end of us, do you not love me anymore, is that it?!” He shouted again when you didn’t respond. “Will you please just look at me!”. You turned around, tears filling your eyes desperately trying to fall over the edge. “No angel no I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I forgot sweetheart, fuck I’m such an idiot” he whispered as he rushed over to you collecting you in his arms while you clung on for dear life, you hated shouting and confrontation and he knew that. “Not good for you m’sorry” you sobbed as your nails dug into his shoulder “Don’t say that angel you’re perfect for me you know that” he choked out, trying not to sob with you. “Can’t give you what you want, can’t be a mother can’t do it m’sorry, you deserve someone that can” you sobbed desperately as your grip tightened scared to let go. “Oh angel” he whispered as he gently encouraged your face to leave the safety of his neck, you looked up a him, tears spilling from his eyes as he wiped yours away, “You’re all I want honey, you’re all I will ever need”. You sobbed loudly, Spencer joining you as he wrapped his arms around you getting as close as possible, “I love you angel, I always will, I’ll never stop.” he sobbed. “You promise?”, “I promise sweetheart, I’ll love you forever”, “And ever?”, “And ever” he laughed softly, tears staining both of your cheeks red “I’m forever yours angel”. “Spence?”, “Yes honey”, “I love you too, forever and ever”.

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 12

Hello! I managed to get this finished before bed. So tada!

Steve and Eddie aren’t on the same page yet, and Eddie fucks up.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11

***

As he drove Robin and Erica back to her apartment, (Robin refused to be in the same room as them because of how absolutely gooey they were around each other) Steve’s anticipation for tonight was ramping up. He had stopped by the store to get all the ingredients for tonight.

He pulled out his best wok and washed the rice, getting it started cooking before he did anything else. He cleaned and chopped the vegetables, getting them in the wok first. Once they were about half way done, he pulled them out and set them to the side.

He then cut up the chicken and started cooking it up. Then he made the sauce in the wok with the chicken pushed to the one side and then he mixed them together. He added the vegetables last, warming them through so that they had a crisp but not hard bite to them. He was tossing the mixture in the sesame seeds when the doorbell rang.

He dashed over to the door and opened it.

Eddie stood on the other side, hands shoved into his pockets and big smile on his face. “Hey-ya, Stevie!”

Steve blushed. “Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way. “You’re right on time. I just finished making dinner.”

Eddie slipped past Steve and into the apartment. “Smells great. I can’t wait. I’ve been telling the guys about it all weekend. They are insanely jealous by the way.”

Steve smiled. “What? Can none of them cook?” He led Eddie over to the table where he started to plate up the chicken.

Eddie grinned. “Sadly, their talents lie in music and not cooking.” He sat down. “Gethin, Gareth’s twin can bake, but that’s really not the same thing as cooking.”

Steve chuckled. “No. Cooking once you know the basic rules can be tweaked in all sorts of ways. Don’t eat pork, dark meat of fowl like chicken or turkey will work. Or tofu if you’re vegetarian or vegan. Baking though? Gluten intolerant? Fuck you then, because you have to replace more than just the one ingredient you have to find three things to replace it so it acts the same way.”

Eddie nodded. “I call baking alchemy and cooking art.”

Steve smiled. “That sounds about right. Chopsticks or forks?”

“Chopsticks if you have ‘em,” Eddie said.

Steve went to the drawer and pulled out four black chopsticks with a silver band on top. He handed two to Eddie and kept two for himself.

“These are nice,” Eddie said, immediately digging into his food. “Wow. Shit, dude. So good.”

Steve blushed and took a bite of his food. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Where did you learn to cook so good?” Eddie asked around a bit of food.

Steve flushed. “It was either learn how to cook or eat take out every night when my parents were gone.”

Eddie looked up through his lashes. “Yeah, how often were they gone?”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I think a better question would be when weren’t they gone?”

Eddie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Steve set down his chopsticks and sighed. “Look, you went to high school with me, you know I was famous for the ragers I threw. Do you know why I could throw those parties?”

Eddie half shrugged. “I never really thought about it. I was never on the guest list.”

Steve snorted. “Like I had any control of the guest list. That was all Tommy and Carol. Seriously. After my second concussion in two years that had me benched in every sport I was in except swimming, I realized they didn’t care about me. They only cared that I had absent parents, a cleaner that came every other day, and a huge house with swimming pool in the back.”

Eddie winced. “Is that why the parties stopped that last part of your senior year?”

Steve nodded. “So yeah, I learned how to cook to prevent myself from getting into bad eating habits and I just kept it up. I enjoy it. Not like tattooing but it’s fun.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmured. “I sometimes forget that high school was almost a decade ago. You look so much like you did back then that I forget that all that shit is just water under the bridge. But I’m trying.”

Steve smiled softly. “And I appreciate it. I really do. Actually, one of my apprentices actually went to high school with us, too.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, would I know them?”

“Would you know head cheerleader,” Steve said with a smirk, “and then girlfriend of the captain of the basketball team you final senior year?”

Eddie leaned his head forward. “Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham? Are you shitting me right now?”

Steve shook his head.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie said with a grin. “Of course I remember her. Great girl. Glad she broke it off with that Carver kid though. He was one of those Christians that forgot the main principle the dude taught was to love everyone.”

Steve nodded. “I hear he’s one of those wackos that go around to public streets and harass poor people about religion for YouTube views.”

“Fuck, really?” Eddie hissed. “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. Lucky dodge for Chrissy then. You thinking of snapping up that girl?”

Steve felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dumped right over his head. He thought that this was a date. He had done it again. Presumed too much.

“No,” he said softly. “Robin has a better chance with her then I do. Apparently she is a lesbian.”

Eddie furrowed his brow a little, wondering about the sudden mood switch.

“Good for her,” is all he said.

The night got awkward and stayed that way until Eddie got up to go home.

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked trying to at least salvage some part of the evening.

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you’re starting on the sword tomorrow, right?” Eddie asked, heart in his throat.

Steve confusion clears. “Of course! I can’t wait. I’m really excited to start working on it.” He gives Eddie’s wrist a squeeze. “I thought we made plans that I had forgotten about. No. Of course I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eddie relaxed a little bit and nodded.

Steve closed the door gently behind him.

*

Jeff was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed when there was a pounding on his door. He looked over at Mandy and frowned.

“You expecting anyone, babe?” she asked, after spitting into the sink.

Jeff shook his head. He rinsed out his mouth and padded to the door. He opened it to reveal a jumpy Eddie.

Jeff rolled his head from side to side. “You do know Mandy’s got work in the morning, right?”

Eddie nodded. “I fucked up with Stevie and I don’t know what I did but I really need my best friend right now.”

“Come on in,” Mandy said from behind Jeff. “I’ll get you two a beer.”

Eddie sat on their ratty sofa, his knee jiggling with restless energy. Mandy handed them the beers and kissed Jeff’s cheek.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

Jeff watched as she walked back to their bedroom. Once the door was closed he turned to Eddie. “Right start at the top. What do you mean you fucked things up with Steve?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eddie said after downing half of the bottle in one go. “Things were going great, dinner was amazing. It got a little awkward when he said he learned how to cook because his parents were never home and then bam! The bottom opened up and I left earlier then I expected because the air was so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife.”

Jeff closed his eyes and then opened them again. “Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Knowing you like I do, you probably said something you didn’t think was important, but really, really was.”

Eddie sighed and went through the whole conversation.

Jeff buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Dude, tell me you really didn’t ask Steve if he was going bang one of his apprentices, you know one of the people that work for him?”

Eddie scoffed, waving his hand. “I was joking.”

“Did Steve know that?” Jeff prodded.

Eddie opened his mouth and then closed it. He opened it again, but no sound would come out. He snapped it shut and frowned. “Maybe not?”

Jeff waved his hand at him. “Also seriously, dude. What kind of messed up fucker asks his crush if he wants to bang some chick?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Oh shit.”

“Look I don’t know this guy,” Jeff said. “Not well enough anyway. If this was Gareth or Brian, I could tell exactly what he was thinking. But I don’t and you don’t either. Which means you didn’t just fuck up, Eddie. You fucked up bad. So you’re going to have to grovel. And I do mean grovel. Flowers, dinner, the works.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said breathing out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, man. Fuck. What if I messed things up with for good?”

Jeff shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess endure the most awkward thirty hours of your life?”

“Shit.”

*

The first thing Eddie did that morning was call the shop.

“Royal Pain, this is Robin, how can I help you today?”

“Birdie,” Eddie greeted. “Is Steve around?”

Robin sighed heavily. “He’s working with Chrissy at the moment, I can take a message?”

Eddie sighed. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s actually you I wanted to speak to anyway.”

“Is this about last night?” she asked.

Eddie blinked away the tears that formed at the thought that Steve had told her about it. “I’m trying to grovel and need a list of his faves so that I make it up to him for being an absolute ass.”

Eddie could feel Robin’s grin through the phone. “Right. Where do you want me to start?”

They talked for a good twenty minutes before she said, “Look, I’ve got another call coming in. That should be enough to start with. Hop to it, doofus. I want to see it, capeesh?”

“I read you loud and clear,” Eddie said.

“Good.”

***

Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

[stateofcharles]

baby just say yes - PG10

pairing: Pierre Gasly x female!reader

word count: ~ 4,1k

warnings: fluff, light angst, insecurity, French GP 2022

summary: 4 times Pierre jokes about marrying you + 1 time he’s serious about it

a/n: heavily inspired by Pierre’s late wedding fever, i couldn’t just sit and stare i mean- you know pierre if you wanna get married i happily volunteer. title of course from ‘love story’ by the queen taylor 

2006, age 10

You and Pierre were at your house, sat on your bed, spending your time between watching old races on old CDs and eating the cookies your mum had made that morning. You didn’t love F1 as much as your best friend did but you knew that watching that made him happy, so you were willing to sacrifice your freetime if that meant seeing Pierre’s joyful face. 

“Are you coming to my race next sunday?” he asked shyly suddenly while you were watching Michael Schumacher clenching his first WDC. You looked at him dismayed and his face darkened when he realised what it meant. 

“Pierre-” you tried to ponder your words because you didn’t want him to feel bad, “I’d like to but my parents want me to eat with them for their wedding anniversary,” you pouted, “but I swear I don’t want to go with them.”

“Then why do you go?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Because it’s like- a special one? I don’t know why. I know it’s 25 years and it is something silver and then they want a big celebration.” you replied.

“Silver?” his face was even more confused than before.

“Yeah, and it’s a big one. There’ll be many people from my family there, even that grumpy, old aunt Albertine,” you snorted, “the one who wants me to become a ballerina.”

Pierre’s eyes widened, “The one whose shoes we filled with your dad’s shaving cream at your mum’s party?”

You started laughing so loud that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the sound, “Yeah! That one! I really can’t stand her!”

Pierre hummed as he tapped his knee with his finger, he was clearly thinking. “Do you think you’ll get married one day?” You stared at him wild-eyed and he blushed, the question was clearly something big. The boy just hoped his crush for you hadn’t filtered through his words and face. 

“I don’t know,” you answered sheepishly, “I want to wear the white dress one day like my mom’s, but I don’t know if I will meet a boy that I like so much. Maybe I will be alone forever like my aunt Albertine.” You shrugged; in the end you were a kid and maybe that question was too huge for a 10-year-old

“Oh god, don’t say that cœur! You’re much better than your aunt! And if you won’t find anyone then I’ll marry you.” he stated and his face was painted with self-confidence.

You laughed at his sentence and the boy looked at you half-offended. “Are you laughing at me?” he said in disbelief.

You put your hand in front of your mouth, “Non Pierre, but- we’re best friends! It’s weird! You shouldn’t marry your best friend!”

He crossed his arms at his chest, “Ok then, Charles is my new best friend if you think this about me.” He was holding a grudge, but you could see that he was actually holding his laugh.

“We’ll talk about this when you’ll be back to me asking again to be my best friend after Charles will annoy you with all his talking.” you answered back sticking out your tongue. Pierre started laughing and you threw yourself at his chest to hug him.

2012, age 16

“My sister is getting married.” You snorted as you entered Pierre’s bedroom, sitting not-so-graciously on his rolling chair; it started spinning as soon as you did that, and your snorts only grew louder.

“Well hello to you too cœur, it’s nice to see you so happy.” Pierre was holding his laugh at seeing you so upset.

“I’m not in the mood today Pear, drop it.” you muttered rubbing your hands against your face. You couldn’t believe it was really happening. You believed your sister, out of all the people out there, would be the last one to decide to spend her life with just one person. 

“It’s so frustrating, like- Eloise will be divorced in six months at most, it’s crystal clear she doesn’t love Bernard, even maman says that! Almost no one likes him in our family.” You crossed your arms angrily, the lump in your throat was growing bigger and bigger. 

“But why does everyone hate him so much? He seems like a nice guy after all and-” he couldn’t even finish his sentence before you interrupted him.

“NICE? PIERRE HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?!” you shouted, “Like- have you seen him? Have you ever been with him for a couple of hours? He’s so full of himself, he always talks about that stupid job he does, his studies and other bullshit he does. And he is extremely sexist. Did you know he said that once my sister marries him she’ll be like his personal maid, because she’s younger than him and her degree is inferior?” As you were talking, Pierre’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“Well maybe you’re right.” he scratched the back of his head, “He’s kind of a dickhead” he paused for a while, “but then why’s your sister marrying him?” he questioned.

“Who knows what’s going on inside her head” you grumbled. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “you’ll have to go to this wedding anyway, she’s your sister and you can’t miss it.” 

“Ok mister, then tell me what should I do because Eloise even asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! And I have to bring someone with me as well! Could it be any worse?” You grunted, that was really a shitty situation.

“Well, bring me then.” He said nonchalantly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“You? Why should I choose you?” You asked mockingly, he had that usual grin printed on his face, a blend of cockiness and joke.

“Alright then, first I am incredibly charming - don’t interrupt me Y/N, it’s true -, second your mum loves me as a son and last but not least I am your best friend, so you won’t get annoyed listening to that dickhead’s rambling.” As he finished his speech he looked quite proud of himself, like he had just found the solution to all the problems in the world. 

“Maybe I could consider it,” you hummed, “but if you’re so charming as you say you’ll be stealing all the attention of the guests, won’t you?” you teased him. 

“I won’t be the only one, that’s for sure cœur.” He smiled warmly at you, “you’ll be there with me and we will be stealing all attention. We’ll be envied even by the newlyweds, we’ll be the star of the event.” 

You noticeably blushed at his words, this kind of attention was weird for you to receive even after all those years of being friends with Pierre, who was a natural casanova. 

“Then ok I guess,” you spoke sheepishly, “we’ll go together but one condition first: you’ll be obliged to get me out of the embarrassing conversation with my relatives, because I don’t want to put up with another interrogation from uncle Patrick and his wife.” 

Pierre replied in the same ‘I-don’t-accept-a-no’ tone, “Deal, but you’ll have to go in the girls crowd when your sister will throw the bouquet.” The devilish grin on his face didn’t bode well, at all.

“Why? I mean- it’s senseless.” You hid your face in your hands, that was becoming awkward. 

“I don’t know, it’s funny and you’ll be blushing the whole time.” God he was such a brat sometimes.

“I wonder why I’m still friends with you,” you murmured, “And then who will I marry if I catch it?” You teased him.

“Me, what a question cœur, I’m the perfect man, everyone would want me.” He said defiantly while he smiled.

When you started laughing he couldn’t help but do the same. Even if he was a little dumb sometimes he was still your best friend, the person you trusted the most in the whole world, and you knew he would never let you down. 

2015, age 19

It was another night you spent at Pierre’s place, a normal night just hanging out with your best friend. You had just finished watching Beauty and the Beast, your favourite film, and Pierre was teasing you, as usual.

“I just can’t understand why, cœur. I mean- you’re 19! You’re almost an adult and a cartoon is your favourite film? That’s weird as hell.” He complained.

“Ok Pierre, now listen to me: it’s not a normal cartoon, it’s the cartoon. And besides there’s no way you can dislike it, it’s pure perfection. And I’m not a kid,” you sticked your tongue out, “I can be a grown-up and still like cartoons, there’s no rule that prohibits it.” You crossed your arms with a pout on your face.

“Ok cœur, but don’t be offended!” He laughed, that brat! He loved mocking you.

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re my best friend” you muttered, but he had heard you and a smirk appeared on his mouth. He looked straight into your eyes before answering.

“Do I really have to answer? Ok then, I’m beautiful, talented, funny, unique, charming, should I keep going on?” He smiled amused.

“God, you’re such a kid sometimes Pierre.” You shook your head, he was a gone case.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway and I’m your bestest of friends.” He got closer to hug you and you hid your head in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly you heard the timer ringing, “Muffins are ready Pear!” you untangled from his arms to go to the oven. You wore the kitchen gloves before opening it, then you pulled off the moulds with your creations.

“Tadaa!” You placed it on the kitchen table and slowly started positioning the pastries on the dish you had left on it. Your idea was to form a flower with the muffins, but before you could finish Pierre quickly stole one and took a bite of it. He sat on a chair and started unwrapping the muffin from his case.

“Pierre!” you shouted, “I haven't finished yet! C’mon, you always have to ruin it!” you whined, but he was half-moaning while chewing the pastry. 

“Jeez Y/N, these are for real the best muffins you have ever baked!” He patted his tummy, “You truly are a woman to marry!” He leant back, relaxing on the backrest with his hands intertwined behind his head. 

“Seriously Pierre? Again?” You put your hands on your waist, leaning in to be closer to him. “I thought you had learnt the lesson”

“Oh Y/N stop, it’s not time for your feminist sermon, I know that: women don’t necessarily have to get married, they can be single and happy and they don’t have to stay in the kitchen because they can do much more, I know it.” He looked at you, falsely-annoyed, but deep down he was glady you were as you were, so strong in your beliefs and not afraid of saying things out loud. 

He leant towards you to place a kiss on your cheek, before coming back to sit on the chair, “Anyway I’m not joking Y/N, whoever is going to marry you is going to be very lucky, you aren’t just a fantastic chef, but you truly are a beautiful person both inside and outside as well.” He smiled sheepishly.

I wish I was that person, so much he thought, I want to be that lucky to wait for you at the end of the aisle, to see you in a white dress and to make you the love of my life.

But those thoughts were secrets, something the boy kept in the deepest corner of his heart, something he wasn’t ready to say out loud, yet. Deep inside he hoped the day would come sometime, the flame in his soul was still burning, for you and you only ever since the first day the two of you met.

2018, age 22

Half-asleep, you whined when you felt your boyfriend shifting from under you. You tried to stop him but you were still too numb to put enough strength.

“Pear” you whimpered, “come back here” you stretched out your arm to call him.

“Sorry cœur, someone’s at the door” from his voice you could sense he was still sleepy. You then heard him thank the delivery guy before shutting the door loudly.

“Mhh Pierre no, silence” you threw over your head one of the cushions but he was quick to take it off.

“Non cœur, now you have to see this” he grabbed your arm to lift you up until you were then sitting straight. You rubbed your eyes to focus on your boyfriend, who was now very awake, smiley and holding in his arms a big, large bouquet of red roses. You widened your pupils, now completely, shockingly conscious. 

“What’s that Pear?” You asked, tears building up, and then realisation hit you. “OH NO I- I’m sorry P, I forgot it was today and I didn't buy you anything but I was so busy with university and then my sister-” you were rambling and Pierre suddenly started laughing. A pout showed on your face, “PIERRE DON’T LAUGH” you half-shouted.

“It’s fine cœur, no worries, and also-” a devilish grin adorned his lips, “I think what we did before was quite a gift” he pointed at his bare chest and at you only wearing panties and his oversized hoodie.You blushed, but he kept going on, “But anyway, happy second anniversary baby. 24 roses for 24 months together.” He leant in to place a kiss on your lips.

A couple of tears escaped your control and before you knew you were openly crying, whilst Pierre still had that smug smile on his face. He placed the bouquet on the table before cuddling against you, leaving a trail of kisses on your cheeks and then moving onto your neck. “Happy anniversary Pear, I am so lucky to have you with me” you murmured to him, squeezing him closer to you and hiding your head in the crook of his neck.

“Cœur really don’t worry about your present, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re still here with me” he stated, looking straight into your eyes.

You cracked a smile and you took his hands in yours, “Were you afraid I would escape?” you cupped his face, “You know that - even if I wanted - I wouldn’t be able to leave you?”

“Well you don’t know that,” he lowered his head, “what if one day you get tired of me?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying, was he really so filled with doubts? What had you done to cause him such worries?

“Pear, have I done something wrong by accident? Is there something you’re hiding from me?” You were craving for an answer but at the same time you were afraid of it. You didn’t want your anniversary day to be also your break-up day, moreover with the love of your life, the boy you had had a crush on ever since childhood - as much as you were trying to deny it at that time.

“It’s nothing cœur, but-” he mused, “sometimes I see other drivers break up with their girlfriends because they’re away for so long and something inevitably happens and-” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t bear my routine anymore.” He lowered his head, as if he felt guilty.

“No baby, nonono, don’t ever think this again please,” you lifted his head delicately, “I would never do it Pierre, I swear, I- it was me who chose to be by your side, I knew what I was putting myself into two years ago,” some tears spilled from his eyes whilst you were trying your best to hold yours back, “I love you so much Pear, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You lifted yourself a bit and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “This whole distance thing is part of the package, I bought the whole ‘Pierre package’ two years ago and I don’t actually mean to bring it back.” You chuckled lightly, trying to raise the mood of the moment; that really wasn’t how you wanted to spend your anniversary, seeing Pierre that upset and demoralised.

“You’re not calling customer support then?” A little smile, good, his humour was slowly coming back.

“Nope,” you lingered on the P, “and I’m not escaping now, I’m staying here with you.” You kissed him deeply, wanting to convey to him all the affection you felt for him. 

“You will escape one day though,” he stated again; you were ready to answer but he was quicker, “The day I’ll propose you’ll run for the hills.” he said like it was nothing. God, the way that boy always talked about marriage without any problem, he was going to be the death of you. 

“Pear!” you flushed, hiding your face in your hands, “stop it, stop, it’s not the day.” You stuttered and he was just laughing at your face.

“Not the day? Cœur, it’s inevitable that one day it’ll happen, we’re meant to be.” The more he spoke the more embarrassed you were, trying to escape his arms that, in the meantime, were hugging you super tightly. 

An idea popped out in your head; mischievously, you bit his nose and he immediately brought his hands to protect his face from you. “Y/N! What are you doing?” He shouted. You giggled and started running towards the bedroom.

“Catch me if you can, Pear!” you squealed, acting like a baby but, deep down, it was another attempt to cheer him up. Apparently it was working, because he shook his head before talking back, “Oh cœur, you don’t know what I’ll do to you when I’ll catch you.” He smiled devilishly before starting to chase you, a little smirk plastered on his lips. It was going to be an eventful afternoon.

2022, age 26

The French GP hadn’t exactly gone as planned and Pierre was quite frustrated about it. During the race you were staying with his parents in the AlphaTauri garage and you were fervently hoping for him to get at least some points in his home GP, though you knew the car wasn’t performing that well.

This was why you were slightly worried about his state of mind when you came back to the hotel later that night. To leave him some space to take it out, you had stayed a little bit with his parents before they left for their hotel. You had a chat with his mom while his dad was on the phone with him and you could say they were having an important, almost heated discussion.

It was then time to head back to your hotel, where you knew Pierre was waiting for you. Once in the room you heard the shower water was running, Pierre must have been having one. The room was a mess so you decided to clean up a little bit.

Clothes and shoes, mostly Pierre’s, were scattered everywhere, the bags were opened and the vanity case was abandoned on the bed. It was clear that when he had come back he was upset, probably angry and he had just quickly grabbed the stuff he needed for his shower before heading to the bathroom.

Who knew how long he had been in there! The thought of him in those conditions haunted you and didn't want to leave him alone, but on the other hand you knew from experience that he didn’t want to be disturbed; then you kept tidying up, hoping that he would finish soon.

You picked up a pair of clean boxers that were lying on the desk and when you placed them in his suitcase your hand came into contact with something small and hard. You frowned before sticking your hand inside to reach for the mysterious object. Your jaw dropped when you realised it was a little box from Tiffany’s.

Your heart started pounding and a million thoughts were running in your head. The rational part of your brain was struggling to accept the reality of facts, that Pierre was going to propose to you, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. On the other hand the most dreamy and emotional part of you was already planning everything. You could already picture him waiting for you at the end of the aisle, your white dress, the reception in a beautiful garden…

Your train of fantasies was stopped by Pierre walking out the bathroom, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top. When he saw you holding the tiny box his facial expression changed. He rubbed one hand over his face and a disconsolate sigh left his mouth.

“Y/N I can explain,” murmured Pierre but you interrupted him.

“I think it’s quite clear Pear” you lowered your head fidgeting with the tiny object in your hands.

“But I do want to explain cœur, I think you deserve it” he said, his tone convinced and determined. He reached out for you and you gave him your hand, which you accepted and he guided you towards the bed. You sat one next to another and he slowly began to speak.

“I wanted to do it.” he started, turning around to face you; his eyes were shining, but you couldn’t say whether it was sadness or something else. “I had planned everything with my dad’s help. After the race we would go to have dinner at the seaside and then I wanted to propose on the beach. But I was so sad after the race; I really hoped to score a point at least because Yuki had made it into Q3 in quali and the car seemed less shitty than usual. At the end I was so angry and I didn’t want to ruin the moment with my bad mood, so I didn’t do it.”

He sounded broken, probably both from the GP result and the fact he hadn’t dropped the question. He went on, whilst you were hanging on every word he was saying. “I even argued with my dad, because he thought that I had to do it anyway, I just had to put aside my irritation and ask you because this is more important than a race and-”

“Then ask me.” You interrupted him and his eyes widened.

“What?” He startled, and you realised you had actually said that out loud. Oh shit.

“No Pear, I mean- If you don’t want-” You rambled incoherently.

“You want me to ask you, cœur?” He asked with both surprise and hope in his voice.

Unable to trust your shaky voice, you nodded. His face lightened up and his smile grew bigger and bigger. He took the little box, which had stayed all the time in your hand, and he opened it while kneeling in front of you.

He looked up at you and you saw a single tear escaping his eyes. He breathed deeply before saying the infamous words, “Y/N, mon cœur, will you marry me?”.

The words were your breaking point: you started crying and hid your face in your hands. Your first thought was that Pierre could misunderstand your tears but that fear disappeared when you saw the soft smile on his face. He took one of your hands in his and gently started rubbing little circles on the back of it. He knew the crying wasn’t because of the question, but because of all the stress you had accumulated throughout the day.

After a couple of minutes you composed yourself and you came back staring Pierre in his eyes. Shortly after he removed the ring from the box and he got it closer to your hand.

“Just say yes cœur” he smiled shyly and you finally took courage to answer.

“Yes Pear, forever yes.” You said and let out a watery chuckle. His smile widened again, so much you thought he could burst from happiness. He lifted your hand to slip the ring on your finger, that was when you took some seconds to look at it: it was a thin silver band, with a small, delicate diamond on the top of it. Perfect in its simplicity. 

Pierre lifted up bringing you with him and - once you were both standing - he hugged you tightly, rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Thank you cœur, I love you forever and always.” he whispered in your ear.

You slightly untangled you from his tight grip to look at him, you placed a soft kiss on his lips and nuzzled your noses together. “I love you too Pear, forever and always.”

#beh writes #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fandom

[amazingmsme]

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Spider Scorned

AN: Took me long enough, but I finally finished my spiderverse fic! I had such a blast with this one, I hope y'all enjoy! Miles has some serious beef with Miguel & they just need to spend some quality time together!

After defeating The Spot, things started to settle down. The multiverse was ultimately safe, for now at least. And things were actually going pretty well for Miles Morales. After they won, Miguel officially welcomed him into the Spider Society, even giving a tense, begrudging apology. It wasn't much, but it was a start. But now, he was able to see his friends on a semi-regular basis and even picked up a few new tricks of the trade. He buckled down on his classes and managed to pull out an A in Spanish by the end of the year. After months of waiting, he received an acceptance letter in the mail. Of course, his parents threw a huge party to celebrate, bragging to their friends about how smart their son was. As much as it could embarrass him at times, he couldn't be happier that they were so proud of him.

Naturally, there were a few hiccups along the way. The biggest being when he was home alone after a patrol, standing in the kitchen eating straight out of a box of cereal, still in his suit. It was the middle of the afternoon, both of his parents working. He had his headphones on and didn't notice the front door open, and suddenly his father was standing right in front of him, mouth agape as he stared him up and down. It took a long lecture and lots of explaining and apologies on Miles's part, but they understood why he was doing this, and more importantly, why he kept it a secret. His dad even revoked his grounding after he heard the truth!

To top it all off, he was getting called on for missions more frequently, and he found himself spending more time at HQ. He felt needed and accepted among the other spiders, which is more than he could've hoped for. Honestly, Miles doesn't think he's ever been happier. Things were going great for him.

So why the hell was he being so petty to Miguel? Everything worked out fine in the end, yet it still seemed the teen harbored a strong grudge towards him.

Peter B. Parker liked to think of himself as an excellent observer. He also liked to think that he knew the kid pretty well. It seemed like every time Miguel so much as entered the room, his expression went south. He'd go quiet, shrinking in on himself, shooting glares at the man. If the man addressed him, his responses were short and full of sass, if he didn't outright ignore him.

Peter knew where the kid was coming from. Hell, Miguel's scared the crap out of him more than a few times, and the things he said to Miles was out of line. But he apologized for that! It should be water under the bridge, or so Peter thought. It hurt him because he knew Miguel was a good guy, you just had to get to know him. And it seemed that was the last thing Miles wanted to do.

Pavitr, Miles, Gwen and Hobie were sitting around a table playing go fish when Peter and Miguel walked in. Pavitr had pulled out his phone and leaned over to show Miles a video of some guy trying boba for the first time and choking. Right at the funniest part, he glanced up and caught sight of Miguel, the laugh trailing off and smile falling flat. Pavitr was too busy laughing to notice, but stopped when he realized Miles wasn't laughing along.

"Well I thought it was funny," he said quietly, tucking his phone away. Miles snapped out of it and was quick to assure him, "No, it was really funny! Show me again when we're not playing the game."

Miguel snorted as he poured himself some coffee.

Miles furrowed his brows, "What?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing at all," he said as he walked past. Miles rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

"Can you two at least try to get along?" Peter groaned. Miles shrugged.

"Cool with me. Truce?" Miles held out his hand for him to shake. Miguel stared at him skeptically before walking back over him. His form loomed over Miles where he sat at the table and reached for his extended hand.

At the last second, Miles pulled back, running his hand through his hair. "Sike."

Miguel took a deep breath, visibly holding himself back from lunging at the kid while the others at the table snickered to themselves, Hobie looking the most amused. He turned on his heels, muttering angrily under his breath.

"Work with me here," Peter said exasperatedly, to which Miles gave a smug, satisfied grin. Peter rolled his eyes, following after Miguel.

"Gwen, got any two's?"

"Go fish." She bit her bottom lip as Miles drew a card from the deck, and spoke up. "You know, he's really not a bad guy. Wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer."

"Yeah, well maybe you should tell him that," he sassed.

"She's right y'know," Hobie said. "No one loves stickin' it to the man more than yours truly, but even I know when to give it a rest." He laid down his cards, leveling his gaze at Miles. "He's a prick, but he's damn good. Who knows, you might have more in common than you think," he teased, playfully smacking Miles in the arm before pulling him in a headlock, messing up his hair.

"Alright alright, I get it," he said, shoving him away with a shy smile.

"So you'll be nicer to him?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"I guess, sure."

Turns out, it was a half assed effort. He really did try to be nicer when he was around, but it was obvious he was still afraid of the man, clamming up as soon as he laid eyes on him. And he just happened to be busy every time he was called to go on a mission with him. He was on a mission with Peter when they had to call in backup, and he nearly ran into a billboard when he saw who came to their aid.

Miguel wasn't stupid- he knew the kid didn't like him. But hey, he didn't care about him all that much either. But it made him feel shitty, serving as a grim reminder of what he'd done to him. Peter lessened the tension between them, but Miguel could still sense the lingering fear that enveloped Miles every time he was in his presence, could hear the rapid thumping of his heart any time he drew near. And the way he watched his every move: as if he'd snap at a moment's notice, was more than annoying to say the least.

Miguel had called upon Peter for his input and Miles naturally tagged along. He wasn't exactly subtle with the way he looked him up and down as he spoke, watching with a judging eye. Peter kept cracking jokes to try to lessen the tension, frowning when neither one had so much as chuckled by the fifth attempt. He looked up from the screen and gently smacked Miles in the side.

"What's the matter kid? Don't tell me you're too cool to laugh at my dad jokes."

"Nah, it's just 'cause I'm here. I apparently sap out all his joy when I enter the room," Miguel snapped, not afraid to call it how he saw it.

"W-what? That's not true!" Miles insisted, completely shocked by the abrupt nature of his statement. Peter locked up, unsure of how this would play out.

"Yeah, then what is it? You hate me that much or somethin'?"

Miles thought about his answer before he spoke. A rare occasion, I know. "No, I just... think you're meaner than you have to be... sometimes..." he trailed off, getting quieter as he spoke. He refused to meet his gaze and subconsciously scooted closer to Peter, who watched the exchange and sighed.

"Kid, he's not mean, you're just falling for his schtick."

"Hey!" Miguel interjected but Peter shushed him.

"Miguel's got pretty thick skin, you just gotta get used to him. Once you do, you'll realize he's just a big ol' softie. Like me!"

"I am nothing like you," he deadpanned.

"That's one thing we agree on," Miles scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Are you always such a smart ass?" Miguel asked, hands on his hips.

"Easy, he's just a kid!" Peter said, turning around in the computer chair.

"No, he's a cocky high schooler. You're what, a freshman?"

"Just finished sophomore year actually," Miles corrected.

"Probably took pre-cal," Miguel scoffed.

"Nah, I took that last year," he bragged, a cocky smirk on his face, though his eyes held a look of fear that he couldn't shake. There was a tense moment of silence as they stared at one another.

Miles caught a glimpse of Pavitr walk by the doorway and instantly saw his way out of the situation.

"Pav, hey wait up!" he called and ran out of the room to catch up.

"Miles! How's it goin' dude?" Pavitr's voice rang out and their distant conversation echoed down the hall.

Peter groaned as he stood up and stretched. "Why'd you have to go and start shit?" he asked with a tired look.

"I didn't start it!"

"No, you literally started it!"

Miguel sighed. "You heard him, he thinks I'm mean."

"Then show him you're not," Peter insisted, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. Miguel shrugged him off.

"I don't know if he'd let me at this point," Miguel quipped, leaning against the desk.

Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself short. Miguel furrowed his brows and straightened his posture. "What?"

"Nothing, I just had a stupid idea. You'd probably hate it, forget I said anything," Peter said, setting the bait.

Miguel let out another sigh. "What is it?"

Peter hesitated, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. He hoped Miles would forgive him...

"The kid's crazy ticklish, that's all I'm gonna say," he said, holding his hands up in the air.

"What? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just show him you know how to cut loose. Let him see you without that stick up your ass," Peter snickered. Miguel shot him an unamused look, reaching out to squeeze his hip in retaliation.

Peter yelped and jumped away, wearing a large grin. He threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a shake. "That's the spirit! Now go show the kid how fun tickle monster O'Hara can be!" he cheered in encouragement, drawing out

a scoff of disgust from the other man.

"Don't call me that," he demanded, earning a chuckle. He glanced at Peter from the corner of his eye and broke into a smirk. "You're real weird, you know that Parker?"

"Yeah yeah, I get that a lot. But trust me, it'll work," he reassured. Miguel was hesitant.

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me."

Miguel waited until he saw an opportunity, and it didn't take long before one presented itself. Miles was sitting in a beanbag in the corner of an otherwise empty rec room when he waltzed in. "Miles, just the spider I wanted to see," he greeted, sitting on the beanbag next to him. Miles stared at him like he had grown a second head.

"Uh, hi. Wha- what did you wanna talk about?" he stuttered, struggling to sit up straight in the beanbag.

"Peter thinks it'd be a good idea if you got to know me. And I have to agree, so I thought we could play twenty questions. Go ahead, ask anything you want." Miles pondered for a moment before thinking of a question.

"So your fangs... could you like, milk the venom like they do with snakes?" he asked, curiosity and excitement in his tone. Needless to say, the question caught the older man off guard.

"What? No! You can't even milk snakes!"

"Can too! I saw a video where they got venom from a rattlesnake like that! You put gauze or cheese cloth or something over a cup and make them bite it, and they shoot out all this venom," he explained. Miguel considered this for a moment.

"Hm, interesting. I didn't know that." He shifted in the soft chair, getting more comfortable. "I guess it's a possibility. Alright, my turn. What's your favorite food?"

They went back and forth asking questions, and Miguel noticed the way Miles relaxed as the conversation wandered.

"Did you get to do a senior prank when you were in high school?" Miles asked, leaning a bit closer in anticipation for his answer. A mischievous gleam sparkled in Miguel's eyes as a long forgotten memory resurfaced.

"Yeah actually. Oho man, it was a great one. A few of us covered the entire floor in shaving cream. I'm talking classrooms, halls, the cafeteria, bathrooms, even the gym. We broke in during the night so we'd have enough time to do the whole school." He shook his head and chuckled. "Everyone was slipping and sliding all over the place. It took us hours to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it." He couldn't deny the swell of pride he felt when he heard Miles let out a quick huff of laughter.

"That sounds like a good one! I wish I could do something like that."

"Why can't you? Just gotta wait two more years, plenty of time to come up with a good prank."

"No, it's not that. My new school doesn't allow senior pranks and stuff like that," he explained, disappointment etched on his features. "It's... pretty pretentious."

"Hm, that's a real bummer. Maybe you'll have to fix that," Miguel suggested with a playful punch to his shoulder.

"Maybe," he agreed, ideas already bouncing around his head. "Your turn."

"Man, 20 questions is a lot more than I thought," Miguel feigned cluelessness and innocence, as if he didn't have this question lined up from the start. "I got one. Are you ticklish?" he asked casually. It was comical the way Miles snapped his head up to look at him with wide eyes.

"What? No," he said quickly, defensively. He was about to ask the next question to change the subject but was cut off.

"See, now that's funny. That's not what Peter said," he drawled, flashing a smug grin. Miles felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this was fishy from the start, but had ignored his gut feeling. A rookie mistake.

"Heh, good thing you're too mature for that sort of thing, right?" he asked nervously, watching him like a hawk.

"Y'know, I'm not so sure. What do you think?" Miguel asked, a dangerously playful edge to his voice. Miles gulped.

"Was this whole thing just a set up?" he asked, his entire body tense. He was ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

Miguel shrugged. "If that's what you wanna call it, sure."

It only took a second before Miles shot up to make a break for it. Strong arms immediately wrapped around his waist and brought him back down, right into Miguel's lap. He was thrashing and already giggling, yet still managed to grab ahold of Miguel's wrists to keep him at bay.

"Must be pretty ticklish if you're already laughing," he teased, twisting his hands free. He grabbed both of Miles's wrists and raised them over his head.

"Ihihi'm not! Let mehe gohoho!" Miles protested, trying to roll onto the floor.

"Nah. Gotta say, you've made me real curious now. Well, guess I better not keep you waiting!" He wasted no more time and latched onto his side, squeezing and kneading softly. Miles was already lost to a bout of bubbly giggles as he curled in on himself.

"Why ahahare you dohohoing this toho meee?" he squealed, legs scrambling for purchase and finding none.

"To show you I can be fun," he said, as if that should be obvious. "And you really don't know me if you think I'd let this information go to waste."

"Thihihis is fuhuhun?" he asked, sounding incredulous even through his laughter. Miguel couldn't help but smirk.

"See? Glad you agree," he said smugly. Miles let out an annoyed, giggly groan.

"Not whahat Ihihi meant!"

"Really? You gotta choose your words more carefully. Someone could take your words outta context and do this," he emphasized his point by squeezing his hips, causing Miles to jolt in his lap as if he had been electrocuted. "Y'know, since you said you were having fun an' all."

Miles was sure he was going to die. Whether it would be from the tickling or embarrassment, he wasn't sure, but he was going to die.

"Ohoho my gohohod, shut up ahahasshole!"

Miguel froze, hands poised at his sides and ready to strike. "What did you just call me?" Miles breathed in a few gulps of air while he still had the chance. He shook his head, eyes wide with a mix of panic and excitement.

"Nonono I didn't mean that, it just slipped out!" he insisted, but Miguel wasn't having it.

"What did I just say about choosing your words wisely?" he asked. Miles attempted another escape instead of answering, and was caught just as easily as before. "Well if you can call me names, clearly I'm not working hard enough."

He dove for his belly, pulling back at the last second, but Miles still screamed anyways. He felt a warm flush rise to his cheeks, glaring at the man as he laughed. He glared at him and shoved his chest.

"You are being an asshole!" he whined, grabbing his wrists and pushing with all his might to keep them away from his belly.

"And you're really asking for it," Miguel deadpanned, slipping out of his grasp with ease. And just because he felt like messing with the kid a little more, he did another fake out, earning another shriek of anticipation, followed by an embarrassed pout as Miguel let out a hearty chuckle.

"What the hell man? Just get it over with if you're gonna do it!"

"A little eager, eh amigo?" he asked, drumming his fingers against his sides. Bubbly giggles filled the air as Miles folded in on himself like a lawn chair, shaking his head frantically.

"N-no!" Miles denied, twisting from side to side and trying to work his way out of Miguel's strong grasp. He kneaded his sides, immediately thwarting the halfhearted escape. A stream of loud squeals and cackles escaped Miles as he squirmed around like a worm on a hook before curling into a ball in his lap.

He snorted when Miguel reached down to squeeze his knee, kicking his legs out. This granted him free access to his belly, which he took full advantage of. He formed a claw with his hand and dug into the soft pudge around his midsection and giggly shrieks filled the air.

"Wow, you're ticklish just about everywhere," he mused, smirking when Miles whined through his laughter.

"Ihihi ahaham not!" he cried out, legs kicking against the floor. Miguel arched a brow, clearly amused at the reply.

"No? Try proving me wrong then," he teased, pinching up his ribs. Miles arched his back, boyish giggles pouring past his lips.

"Screhehehew you!" he cried through his hysterics.

"Well that's not very nice. And here I thought we were finally bonding," Miguel said in a deadpanned tone, though the sly smirk gave him away.

Without anywhere to turn, Miles yelled out for help. "PEHEHETEHEHER! HELP MEHEHE! I-I'M BEING TORTURED!" he cried out dramatically. Miguel shook his head, an evil chuckle slipping past his lips.

"You know he's not gonna help you, right? I mean, this was all his idea. Practically made me do this," he taunted.

Well that was news to Miles.

"HE WHAT?" he shrieked before falling back into a wild fit of laughter.

"Yup. He sold you out faster than you could say tickle tickle tickle!" he teased, digging his claws into his ribs and shaking them against his ribcage. Miles doubled over with a screech, laughing as he kicked his legs in the air. He reached up to hide behind his hands so he wouldn't have to look at Miguel's stupid, smug face.

Miguel shook his head and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face. "Oh no, no puedes esconderte de mí," Miguel teased. Miles thrashed, growing even more flustered by the playful taunt.

"Oh cohome ohohon!" Miles whined, tugging on his arms.

"Everyone keeps talking about these "bleeding armpits" of yours. Let's see what that's all about, huh?"

"No!" he screamed out, but it was too late because Miguel was already tickling under his arms. Miles slammed his arms down to his sides, trapping his tickling hands in place. He was cackling hysterically, blushing when a few snorts managed to slip out.

"Gehehet out of thehehere!" he pleaded, nose scrunched and mouth open in a wide grin. Miguel hummed in thought, drilling his thumbs in the center of his hollows.

"Mmmm no, I don't think I will," he teased smugly. He was about to comment on how the suit markings are practically a bullseye for what seemed to be his worst spot when a sharp elbow cracked him in the face.

He reeled back, hand clutching his now sore, and apparently bleeding, mouth. Miles rolled off his lap and sprawled on the floor, panting for breath before he noticed Miguel's busted lip.

"O-oh my gosh, did I do that? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" Miles rambled out an apology, cutting off when Miguel held up a hand to silence him.

"It's fine, it was an accident. Besides, this is nothing," he said smirking and gestured to his bloodied bottom lip. "Honestly it surprised me more than anything," he reassured, not wanting Miles to feel guilty over something so small.

"Still, I didn't mean to hit you in the face," he apologized, paused for a second and seemingly grew a bout of confidence, puffing out his chest. "B-but you were asking for it! Seriously, that's what you get for tickling Spider-Man!"

The retort made Miguel bark out a laugh, ruffling the kid's hair playfully. Miles rolled his eyes and shoved him away, but the smile never left his lips.

"Yeah yeah, it's all my fault. Now run along, go tell your friends how you managed to survive tickle monster O'Hara," he teased. Miles cringed at the nickname and let out a long, suffering groan.

"Don't call yourself that," he said, equal parts whiny and sassy. It only took a stern look from Miguel to have Miles running out of the room. Miguel chuckled to himself, pulling out his phone to take a selfie of his busted lip.

Peter had just sat down in the cafeteria about to chow down on a slice of pizza when he felt his phone buzz. He looked at the screen, noticing a new text from Miguel.

He opened the message, huffing out a laugh when he saw the picture of Miguel's busted lip with the caption, Mission Accomplished.

He tucked his phone back in his pocket, taking a large bite. He wasn't even done chewing when he heard fast paced footsteps skid to a halt behind him.

"You sold me out! What the hell man?"

Yeah... Mission accomplished.

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