#but yeah that never feels great like. being reminded of how dad was like when we still choose to live with him and its been wayyyyyy better

[headkiss]

not just on christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

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The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn’t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[gucciwins]

Harry is in awe of his girlfriend

A/N: something short and sweet while I work on other stories.

+

Y/N loved her students. 

It was obvious by all the care she put into her classroom. She got help every year to set it up with a new theme. The motivational posters, the reading chart decorated with her student’s doodles. Every detail in her room tells a story. It’s her second year, but Y/N knows it is something she wanted to do. The impact she is making may not be seen now, but years down the line they’ll see it started during their time in school.

Y/N was in charge of planting the seed, she knew she didn’t always get to see the flower flourish. 

This week, Y/N had students invite parents to read the children a book of their choice. Y/N had many parents come, it allowed for the student to show off their parent during this time. It reminded her of when her dad made time out of his busy schedule to come in for her. 

Today, Harry was coming in to support his niece as he loved being involved. He was eager too because Harry knew Isabela was in her class. Of course, there was no special treatment but Isabela did get to enjoy lunch with her some days.

Harry got here early, and entered the classroom quietly as to not disturb the class but Y/N noticed him. He took a seat at her back table knowing he’d have to wait until they were home to have all her undivided attention. 

“My friends, you’re all doing great. I know math is not our favorite but I appreciate the volunteers that wanted to come up. You can always come to me during for support. ” Y/N knows what it was like to be anxious in class not knowing if it was okay to ask for extra help. She goes over a few math problems, allowing the students to asks questions. 

From the back of the room, Harry sees how Y/N manages to make every student feel seen and heard. Not once does she raise her voice to get their attention, the class stays focused on her every word and Harry is in awe. He always knew Y/N was good at her job but seeing it in person was something different. 

Y/N had always been a kind soul, he knew that from the moment he met her. Yet in the classroom it seemed as if she only became more open, softer he’d like to say. 

People go in look of their true calling, some find it in dancing or art sometimes never at all but he can say that Y/N found her gift in people. More specifically students. She was helping our future genteration grow and that is something he will always be proud of. Harry decides to text her to share all the joy he’s feeling seeing Y/N flutter around teaching her students. 

Harry 

You are so pretty. 

Your room feels safe and comforting. 

You are amazing. I’m in awe of you. 

I love you.

Harry knows she won’t see it until lunch time and he’s okay with that for now he’ll remain admiring his girlfriend. 

“Now, I’ve got a special guest here today,” Y/N gestures to Harry to stand and make his way next to her. He does so while giving Isabela a small wave. “This is Mr. Styles.” 

“Hi Mr. Styles,” the class greets in unison. 

“Hello, thank you for welcoming me into your class. I’m Isabela’s uncle.”

Isabela cheers, rushing over to give her uncle a hug after Y/N gives her the okay. “Now friends, let’s remember to be respectful to Mr. Styles. While he gets settled in, why don’t we sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet.” 

The children begin to file in, careful not to push each other making sure they sit next to their friends. While Harry reads the title of the bookY/N walks over to her desk. She checks the time on her phone when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s text. Y/N turns her head to see if he’s watching her but finds him deep into the story, using a new voice for each character. The students are hanging on to his every word. Y/N knew Harry was happy to be here to support her. She felt the outpouring of his love from the moment he walked in. 

Yeah, Y/N was lucky to have him.

+

this was the inspiration behind the story

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot

[goldenroutledge]

sweet dreams

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 2.0k

summary ⤜ distance makes the great grow fonder, and when it comes to you & rafe, distance keeps you both awake at night.

warnings ⤜ mentions of anxiety, insomnia

a/n ⤜ i was looking through old requests and randomly got this idea. hope you like it :)

rafe cameron masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

“And remember, separate rooms, you two.” Ward reminds you both, but his words are obviously directed at Rafe by the look he gave to his son.

“Yeah, yeah isn’t that Rose honking outside?”

“I’m serious, Rafe.” His expression softens slightly as Ward gives you a slight smile. “Keep this one out of trouble for me while I’m gone?”

“I’ll do my best, Mr. Cameron.”

Ward and Rose were headed to the Bahamas for their anniversary, and it took enough convincing for Ward to let you stay with Rafe as it was.

His reasoning being that Wheezie was impressionable at her age, and wanted to keep the rules clear for when her day would come. As if Ward had no experience in making exceptions for one child over another, but Rafe was never on the right side of things.

That said, Rafe always thought this was Ward’s way of exercising control over him. Ensuring he wouldn’t forget that he was bound to Ward’s rules as long as he lived in Ward’s house.

You didn’t mind it as much as Rafe did, trying to keep his spirits up, since you’d still be the first person he’d see in the morning and the last person he’d see at night.

“It’s a stupid rule, we’re both adults. But I appreciate you trying to be politically correct for my father.” Rafe mumbles, pressing his lips to the side of your forehead gently, your fingers intertwined as his arm draped around you.

“I don’t think your dad would be okay with me staying here at all if I wasn’t.”

“She’s right, son. It’s your responsibility to set a good example, your little sister watches your behavior more than you think.”

“I do not!” Wheezie shouts, rounding the corner into the room, likely having been eavesdropping on the other side of the wall.

“Either way, I won’t have any of my kids ‘playing house’ in here while I’m gone.”

Rafe fumes at this, feeling more defensive than usual towards his father since you’re sitting next to him.

“And what about Sarah? What do you think she’s doing at John B’s all night, huh?” He retorts, but is quickly silenced as you swat at his chest lightly.

“At least we know why you married Rose after 2 minutes.” Wheezie remarks, earning a proud chuckle from her brother from her audacious comment, and from the exasperation on his father’s face.

Ward shoots his daughter a look of warning, but ultimately brushes her off. “You’ll understand when you’re a father, Rafe.”

“Won’t be anytime soon at this rate.” Your boyfriend grumbles into your neck, and you wince, hoping his father didn’t hear it.

“I think that’s exactly his point, honey.” You whisper.

Ward scrambles around the first floor of the home, making sure he has the last of his things before leaving to meet Rose who is impatiently waiting in the car. “Alright now, you all be good, keep the house clean.”

“Bye, dad!” Wheezie shouts, already leaving the room now that the gossip has run out.

“You’ll be missed.” Rafe taunts sarcastically.

“Safe travels, Mr. Cameron!”

—

Much to Rafe’s dismay, you can’t find it in yourself to let Wheezie down & break the rules while Ward is away. Deep down, he can’t either. Not when your eyes are sparkling while looking into his, begging him into believing that you’ll make it worth his while.

He won’t let you get away that easily— he faux insults you, how you’re a goody two-shoes first and his girl second, but by the way he’s holding you bridal style in his arms, carrying you to the guest room, you can’t tell the difference.

He carefully gets you ready for bed, a process of small steps that feel natural to him.

Taking out your earrings for you, he knows how much you hate it when the earring backs poke you when you lay on the pillow wrong.

Doing your skincare routine— albeit he goes extra slow to really ‘massage’ the products in. You both know it’s all in the name of admiring you up close, while pressing soft kisses to your lips every so often.

He could never forget the step of fluffing the pillows just how you like them. Prior to your stay, he even bought the same pillows and sheets you have at home— switching out Rose’s poor taste in linens for something that would help you sleep far more comfortably.

The last and most important step; Kissing you goodnight a million times. The way your lip balm tastes makes the floor seem like a feasible option in his mind, but you’ll never let him.

Rafe is obviously stalling time before he has to leave you for the night, but as he would tell it, he’s just giving you something to dream about. After all, nothing less than royal treatment exists for his Y/n.

—

Rafe hated nights like these. His mind had a tendency to race at night, sometimes beyond the point of return. His only consolation being that you were near him, just a few doors down. Being left alone with his thoughts only made for long hours of tossing & turning.

His fingers itched to pick up his phone off the nightstand and call you; longing to hear your voice.

You always had a way of making him forget. Unbeknownst to you, whenever Rafe had times of anxiety, he’d ask you questions. Sometimes philosophical, sometimes funny, or sometimes recollections of stories that would lead you to ramble on and on.

And no matter what was happening in the world outside of the walls of Tannyhill, or what words were exchanged between him and Ward earlier that day, you must have some kind of magical powers with the way you make his worries disappear.

Nobody loved him like you did, and he made sure to show you he returned the sentiment tenfold.

Rafe didn’t know how long he’d been laying there, heavily fatigued but eyes wide open. The light of the moon created a soft glow in the room, shining on the photo of you both on his nightstand.

It was a picture from Midsummers, candidly taken by Wheezie. Natural, showing the two of you in your element of being irrefutably in love with one other. Nothing like the stuffy portraits hanging through the halls of his home.

His eyes flickered to the alarm clock sitting next to the picture frame. Rafe stared at the numbers, watching the time go by, knowing you’d probably be waking up before he gets any sleep at all.

He can’t pretend that he doesn’t know the remedy for this spell of insomnia; and she’s slumbering peacefully down the hall.

‘But the rules, Rafe…’, He can hear you reprimanding him even through his current state.

Rafe weighs the options, considering you’ll be too exhausted to put up a fight and kick him out of bed. And he knows under no circumstances, would you ever kick him out of bed.

Soft sounds of an owl perched in a nearby tree catch his attention from outside, breaking away from his dilemma and focusing on the balcony just outside his window.

Rafe’s too tired to think twice about his decisions right now, thoughts of you clouding his mind. All he can do is thank the universe that nobody is here to witness what he’s about to do.

—

You wished you had it in you to be rebellious in times like these. Compliments from everyone in Rafe’s life, most notably his family members, were not lost on you, as he’d even acknowledged himself that you inspire him to be better.

To be responsible, to have integrity, and as silly as it used to sound to him, they’re all of the things that he now believes will land him a place in heaven right next to you.

His arms holding you close just hours ago felt like a distant memory, and the coziness of the duvet couldn’t compare. The matching linens from your own room served as a nice touch, though.

You’d been in and out of sleep for the past few hours, and you wondered if Rafe was at least sleeping better than you were.

It could’ve been your surroundings. Hotels, sleepovers, anywhere that wasn’t your own bed had ever provided the same comfort.

Then again, the image of Rafe clad in nothing but plaid pajama pants felt pretty comforting, awakening the butterflies in your stomach at the thought.

When he kissed you goodnight like it was the last time, how could you think about anything else?

Those imaginations were cut abruptly short, hearing a thud on the balcony of the guest room you were occupying. Your heart skipped a beat, and you were about to abandon all of your intuitions about following Ward’s rules & wake Rafe immediately, if it wasn’t his unmistakable silhouette of a tall body & messy hair that made you sigh in relief.

You got up, the duvet still draping around your shoulders, before pulling the thin curtains back in a swift motion. Your suspicions were confirmed about Rafe being on the other side of the door.

He always found new ways to romance you beyond belief, but this was new.

“Hey, crazy. Do you always balcony hop in the middle of the night?”

“I’m only crazy for you, so don’t start.” He mutters sleepily, yet his natural wit is still sharp. Rafe’s hands instinctively snake around your waist & he presses his forehead to yours. “Haven’t done it since I was a kid. Used to get up to the roof and stargaze.”

“So, why tonight did you feel the need to break out of retirement?”

“Would you believe it if I said ‘no reason’?”

You giggle, kissing his neck chastely. “No.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Do you want me to sing you to sleep?”

He chuckles, followed by a soft sigh, almost feeling bad for interrupting precious time you could’ve spent sleeping. Not really feeling bad since he’s feeling peaceful once more, but feeling bad just a little bit. “It’s just one of those nights, baby.”

You kiss his cheek again tenderly in acknowledgment. Your eyes met his guiltily, knowing what he’s asking without asking it.

“You know we’re not supposed to share a bed.”

“Not even with a pillow wall between us?”

“You and I both know that won’t last a second.” Rafe smiles at you, admiring the way you know the other so well. “But he never said anything about sharing a balcony…”

You untangled yourself from his embrace, laying down on the daybed atop the balcony. You outstretch your arms for him, wiggling your fingers for emphasis.

He studies you patiently, wondering if he had the stars to thank for how perfect you were for him. He doesn’t waste anymore time in joining you, holding you close to him.

Your cheeks heat up at the realization that this was the Rafe you were dreaming about not long ago. He had a way of making you forget the rest of the world around you. A little ignorant bliss has never felt so good.

He lifts your chin with his index finger and thumb, kissing you again between looks of adoration. The look says a thousand words, leaving the best things unsaid as it often does with you two.

“Are you okay?”

Rafe feels his eyelids grow heavy, and for the first time all night, his mind is free and clear of affliction. “I am now.”

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey

[supernovafics]

I know in the I’ll be there for you universe it’s been established that reader and Steve both have not great relationships with their parents - was wondering how Steve would comfort reader if she had a bad go of it with her dad or mom or both angst and comfort?? Maybe this is too self serving tho so feel absolutely so free to ignore 😭

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k words

warnings: explicit language, brief(ish) mention of reader’s mom being shitty, a bit of angst/sadness but with a wholesome ending<3

summary: in which you’re upset and steve tries to cheer you up

author's note: thank you thank you for the request!! i went back to fall for this one because it just felt fitting. enjoy<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

There was something wrong, but Steve couldn’t tell what it was.

You’d been holed up in your room ever since he got home from his Family Video shift. 

At first, he thought it was something he had done, accidentally leaving Harold’s cage open or forgetting to put something away in the kitchen. But, you didn’t seem mad or upset with him; and he knew that if you were, you wouldn’t have shied away from saying something.

When he knocked on your door and asked what was wrong, he didn’t entirely believe your simple head shake and one word response of “Nothing,” but he decided not to press you further because he knew that you’d come to him whenever you were ready to talk about what was going on. But then hours went by and you didn’t say anything; you even passed up his offer to make a grilled cheese for you, which you usually never did. And that made him worried. 

The time was nearing ten and the only moment you had come out of your bedroom since he got home at six was to grab a quick snack from the kitchen. Maybe you were sad about another crush that had gone wrong or maybe it was something bigger. Steve had no idea, but he felt like he needed to do something for you.

He grabbed a random hoodie from his room and then went over to yours, knuckles tapping against your shut door a few times. When you let out a loud enough, “Yeah?”, he took that as his cue to go in. You were sitting at your desk, textbook and notebook opened up in front of you. 

Steve tossed the hoodie into your lap. “Come on, let’s go.” 

You looked up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” He said instead of actually answering your question.

Even though all you really wanted to do was continue wallowing in your room and keep half-focusing on an assignment that you couldn’t care less about, you decided not to protest his words and adamance.

You pulled his hoodie over your head and slipped on a pair of shoes before following him out of the apartment. 

The drive was quiet and you weren’t in the mood to fiddle with the radio, so it simply stayed on a station that seemed to play the same five “pop hits” on repeat. 

It wasn’t until the final few minutes of the ride that you realized where he was driving to. The roads and turns he made started looking way too familiar, and a small smile took over your face when he pulled into the Dairy Queen parking lot. The closest one was over thirty minutes away and Steve hated driving to it because of that, but you never minded it because even though its menu pretty much resembled the dessert menu of your and Steve’s beloved Third Street diner, there was something about this place that you loved too. 

You were always reminded of the summer when you finally got your license and you’d force Steve to come here with you most nights. You two would eat the ice cream in your car, or at one of the red tables that sat outside if it was warm enough; you loved those memories.

Steve put the car in park and then looked over at you. “I’ll grab everything. Do you want your usual?” 

Instead of answering his question, you inadvertently burst into tears. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked softly as he unbuckled his seat belt and reached over to hug you. It was an entirely awkward and uncomfortable position, but you still immediately leaned into him, arms circling around his neck and face burying into his shoulder. You didn’t mind the way the center console was harshly poking into your side, or the fact that your own still buckled seat belt was in the way. “I thought that coming here would definitely cheer you up. Did I completely misread everything?” 

All you could respond with right then was a barely audible “I’m sorry,” and then you sniffled and let out a breath that only made you cry harder. 

“No, I’m the one that should be saying sorry,” Steve said as he soothingly rubbed your back and the subtle action managed to calm you down a bit. 

You shook your head at his words before pulling out of the embrace and looking at him through blurry eyes. 

“Okay, please be a thousand percent honest with me right now,” You said, somehow finding your voice. You half-heartedly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of Steve’s hoodie. “Do you think I’m selfish?”

“What? No, of course not,” The certainty in his tone managed to wash away some of the shittyness you’d been feeling for the past few hours. “Why would you think that?”

You looked away from him then and slumped back against your seat. “I was on the phone with my mom earlier, maybe like an hour before you got home. She asked me to come to this work event for my dad on Friday night, like some sort of dumb party thing. I said that I can’t since I already told you that I’d go with you to take the kids to that new arcade a few towns over. And honestly, even if that wasn’t happening I’d still probably make up some excuse to not go because I hate going to those work parties. But, anyway, my mom called me selfish for saying no, and I know it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, to believe her, but there was a part of me that did. And still kinda does.” 

Usually, most of the things that your mom said to you went in one ear and then out the other, but for some reason, this comment managed to stick. You started overthinking things, feeling like the worst person ever because of something that wasn’t even true, but maybe it was? And you couldn’t stop thinking about that.   

Steve grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not. I promise.” 

You found yourself believing him and how sure he sounded. He was probably the only person you’d always believe entirely without question because he knew you better than anyone else. You suddenly felt stupid for thinking that your mom was right in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled and then met his gaze again. “This is all so dumb. I’m sorry that you only drove here because I’ve been acting like a sad idiot for the past few hours and you were trying to cheer me up.”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile. “What do you mean? I love coming here.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “You don’t, but thanks for pretending.”

“Do you want me to get you something?”

You nodded and smiled at him. “The usual, please.”

“Okay,” He said before stepping out of the car.

Because of how late it was and since it was the middle of the week, there was no one in line aside from two teens and an older woman, so Steve was back in less than ten minutes with a simple vanilla cup with rainbow sprinkles for you and a cone for himself.

“Thank you,” You said as he also handed over the spoon and napkins that he had stuffed in the pocket of his jacket. 

“Remember those promises we would make when we were kids?” He asked and you were quick to nod, immediately knowing what he was referring to. 

You inwardly smiled as you thought about the slightly elaborate “running away” plans you two made when you were twelve and thirteen. It would always happen after he’d have some sort of disagreement with his parents, particularly his dad, and he’d sneak over to your house in the middle of the night. Or any night you found it hard to sleep because your thoughts were consumed by your parents and all of the pressure they put on you to do well in school, so you’d go to Steve’s place because talking with him was the only way to wash away some of your stress. 

“I still stand by all of it,” He continued. “One of us says the words and we leave. No questions about it. I still don’t know where we’re going, but we’ll figure it out on the way.”

It felt less likely to happen now because you two technically had “left;” moved out on your own. Not necessarily far away, but far enough from your parents that the shit that used to be almost too unbearable became a little bit easier; mainly because you two had each other. And moments like this one only further proved that— you’d always be there for one another. However, that didn’t change the fact that those silly little promises still always stood. 

You smiled at him. “I think our plans had something to do with joining a circus.”

You weren’t sure which of you had suggested it, but you still found it funny either way. 

“Ah, yes, the circus idea,” Steve nodded, laughing a bit. “Not one of our best ones.”

“Oh, wait, actually, I think we either said circus or rodeo.”

“Both equally bad ideas, but I’d still do it for you.”

“And I’d do it for you too,” You told him before eating another scoop of your ice cream. “Hey, I know it’ll probably be midnight by the time we get home, but is the grilled cheese offer still on the table?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things fic #stranger things series #stranger things imagine

[deathbyathousandspiders]

Hi elle! I was wondering if you could do some angst in where reader is tony's daughter but shes the forgotten one and tony shows a lot of affection to peter and one day she just loses it. Its ok if you don't want to.

Stay safe and drink water!

i’ve never felt so motivated to write something–

content warnings (18+) — immense swearing, mentions of insecurity and negative outlook, yelling, author possibly projecting?, maybe too many italicized words/phrases.

✨masterlist✨.

3.5k.

You knew your dad loved you. He had to. He said it to you a million times before, and made it a point to remind you of it once a day. However, there were moments nowadays where you began to question it. You didn’t really question whether he loved you or not, but rather, whether he loved Peter Parker more than you.

Tony had referred to Peter as the son he’d never had. He’d taken Peter on retreats and to expos when he hadn’t taken you out on a trip since you were nine years old. He’d bought things for Peter, and fixed things for Peter, and every meme or video or cat picture you found on the internet to show to your father would automatically get the response: “send that to me, i want to show it to Peter.”

Peter this and Peter that. It sent you into a spiral of insecurity that you’d never known existed. You truly felt like Tony was trying to tell you something subliminally. You tried to drown yourself in coursework, go to engineering camps, and help out with the Avengers just to try and gain a better understanding of their bond. Of what you lacked. Nothing seemed to help. It jabbed at your feelings like a knife to the back, presumably left by Peter Parker himself.

And the worst part? You’d never even met the guy. You’d never been introduced to Peter Parker, despite how many times Tony mentioned the fact that he’d “love for you two to meet,” and “you two would get along great.” Yeah, sure. And he’s probably some gross ass dude with an untamed beard in his mid–twenties that your father took pity on. So much pity, in fact, that he’d invited Peter to stay over for the weekend in your penthouse apartment.

Fantastic.

It was such a sudden proposition, and a last second invite, but it happened. And Tony insisted, despite every protest you attempted to give, that you’d both greet him in the lobby.

So when you were face to face with a surprisingly attractive boy your age who had the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen and barely packed a duffel bag, you were thrown off your rocker. You hardly had the composure to speak. Thus, your father did for you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

He was barely showing teeth, but you hadn’t seen your father this excited about something in a while. “Kid, this is my daughter, Y/N.” He stated proudly, grasping Peter’s shoulder as he started introductions. “And sweetheart,” Tony addressed you, turning his full focus to you as he gave Peter’s introduction. “This is Peter Parker.”

There was something about him that caused for you to detest him. It wasn’t seen on his clothes, or in his eyes. It wasn’t dangling in the tension between you, or whispered through his silent stares, but it was there. Perhaps, it came from the depths of your subconscious, and the land of your imagination. You shoved that proposition deeper into your subconscious, too.

Because you were certain that you had a hatred for Peter Parker, and his little staycation with the Stark’s would prove it.

The first night was fine. Your dad didn’t make you do any activities together, thank God, but he did surprise you with the news that he had to leave the next morning for a last second Avengers emergency. He didn’t know when he’d be back, but Tony assigned you and Peter with the task of rewiring a circuit board in his lab before he returned.

Being the daughter of Tony Stark, you’d taken the initiative to finish the project yourself. It was your house, anyways. It was a request that your father had made to you, so you intended to do it. You just hated the fact that Peter persisted in being with you in the room while you finished it. You hated the silence he left in the room, and the way he kept checking over your shoulder. God, you just hated him. You were sure of it.

You could feel his presence watching over your hands as they worked. You could feel the weight of his judgment, his breath catching in hesitation. You could smell the fumes of his cologne, and the aroma of his hair products. It was infuriating. It was pressuring. It felt mocking, taunting.

He stepped closer, hands reaching over to where yours were tinkering, yet they didn’t dare to touch your project. “A–actually, you should move the circuit focus closer to the–”

The audacity he had to question you. The nerve he struck with his comment, it filled you with rage.

Wrench and wire were thrown to the table, clanking and clamoring as they caved to gravity’s pull. Their sound was the only thing keeping you and Peter from shared silence. The shared silence of your anger. You turned your head to look at him, hoping that you weren’t physically exhaling flames like you imagined you were.

“Can you just.. not?” The question almost came out as a laugh. You nearly laughed, in disbelief that Peter Parker thought he had any say in how you built a robotic contraption. “Can you just fucking not?”

Walls had been building up inside you, livid and rageful feelings clouding your judgment as you glared at him. You couldn’t see just how shocked he was, thrown off at your irritation. You couldn’t see how puzzled he was, or panicked that he’d done something to upset you so much. You just stared into the eyes of what felt like your replacement. You felt empty, worthless, as your figure reflected back at you through the glistening of his eyes.

“Can I not what? Did I– Did I upset you?” Just the sound of his voice crawled beneath your skin. It felt worse than the sleek of humidity, or nails on a chalkboard. It sounded teasing, coy.

It was the final straw.

Nails dug into your palm as your hands formed fists. One fist pressed to your forehead, almost speaking as a warning to tell you to keep composure, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. “Can you stop being so fucking perfect all the time?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

There were several things that you’d been wanting to say to Peter Parker. You’d wanted to tell him off for a long time, but you’d never gotten the chance. Now, you’d given yourself the opportunity to let the floodgates open and your tongue run wild.

“You’re always making shit competitive and iT’S NOT OKAY. It’s not my fault that my own father loves yOU MORE THAN ME! Doesn’t mean you have to fucking rub it in my face every gODDAMN FUCKING HOUR!!” God, this felt good. “You can just do my job for me!! Fucking move into my rOOM at this point, Tony won’t know the difference!!” You scoffed, “In fact, he’d probably be tHRILLED that you FINALLY REPLACED ME!!”

Peter Parker blinked a few times at you. His mouth hung agape, too scared to say anything and interrupt what looked like things you had been needing to say. The look infuriated you.

“Build the circuit board by your goddamn fucking self and leave me the fuck alone!!” And as you made the final statement, you turned to make your leave. The subtle breeze caught your face, and you felt the air hit your cheeks cold; you hadn’t noticed that you’d started crying.

You also hadn’t noticed the fact that your dad entered the room. You froze dead in your tracks at the sight of him, tears brimming your eyes again when you saw how upset he looked.

Shit.

It wasn’t your intention for him to hear all of that, but you couldn’t take back the truth once it’d gotten out. You took a staggered breath, choking back a sob as you rushed out. You didn’t know which hurt more: to hear your father’s footsteps tread further from you, or to hear him ask Peter about what was happening rather than you directly.

Either way, it was an added punch right to the gut.

It felt like ten minutes of sobbing in your room went by before a knock was placed on your door. You were about to answer, but you weren’t given the chance; your father opened the door as soon as he’d placed the knock, a solemn look coating his face as he looked at you from the doorframe. It was a solemn look that resembled disappointment.

He was disappointed in you.

Your dad was disappointed that you’d blown a fuse in front of your house guest. Disappointed that you’d ruined your chance at a good first impression. Disappointed that you’d shown such weakness. He was disappointed that you didn’t meet his expectations. He was disappointed in you for not making his honorary son feel more welcomed. Your father was disappointed in you for fucking it all up. You could tell.

Tony took careful steps towards your bed, sitting next to you as you stifled your sobs down a bit. “Do.. You want to talk about what happened back there?” His tone was softer than you’d anticipated for someone who was disappointed in you. It almost sounded apologetic, sympathetic; you were certain that your mind was reaching for a false reality.

A sniffle caught your breath as you looked at him, fresh tears framing your face. “How much of that did you hear?” You were almost too scared to ask, but you needed to know. You had to know which bit of air to clear first.

“All of it.” Tony started, “From the part where you asked Peter not to be so fucking perfect all the time..” His tone got a little sharper, almost witty. It sounded like he was trying to make humor of your meltdown. As though he were trying to find a way to cheer you up, or tell you to grow up and get over yourself. You couldn’t tell.

You averted eye contact for a moment, trying not to blow up again. Luckily, most of the anger in your system was boiling down to melancholia. Your tears ran rivers down your face as you tried to find the words to say. “I just don’t understand..” You started, keeping your voice from breaking.

Every speck of humor fled from his face at how upset you were getting. Tony’s brows pressed together, graveness and concern bleeding through his tone of voice. “Don’t understand what, honey?” The gentleness of his tone reminded you of when he’d comfort you in childhood. It took you back to when he’d snapped at you and wanted to apologize, or when you’d scraped your knee and he rushed to patch you up. It started to ease the narrative in your head that Tony was angry with you for your little tantrum.

“I, uh.. I don’t—” A shaky breath cut you off. You weren’t sure how to communicate this feeling lightly. It’d been bottled up and growing inside you for a couple months now. You knew you’d have to tell him at some point, you just despised how raw it was. It was pure vulnerability. “I don’t understand what I did to not be good enough–” You couldn’t even get through the sentence before your lip quivered.

That was when Tony looked at you like the entire world shattered. His entire world shattered. The disappointment flooded his expression once again, but it hit you that it was never directed at you — Tony was disappointed in himself. His eyes held the weight of failing as a father, of making you feel this rejected. He failed by making you feel rejected in the first place. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a suffocating hug; you weren’t sure if he’d ever actually be able to let go of it, yet it was the kind of hug you didn’t want to part from. A hug that shielded you from the entire world.

His lips pressed to your temple, along with a few stray tears he couldn’t catch beforehand. It was rare to catch your father tearful, yet you seemed to lower that guard when you started the conversation. He held you close, letting you cry out the feelings you’d locked away for so long.

“Y/N, you’re more than enough..” He lulled, voice breaking ever so slightly, “It’s my fault you ever felt like you weren’t..” His words were everything you’d hoped to hear. You’d began to believe the possibility that actually hearing them wasn’t actuality. This insecurity had driven you beyond wild, to the point where you believed that your father’s intentions were pinned against you.

They never were.

Tony held you in his arms for the next hour, letting you talk out your growing anxiety. You talked about everything from your fomo towards their retreats and trips, to how thrown off you were that Peter was your age.

“I actually think you two would make a cute couple.” Tony started, laughing at how quick you were to throw a punch at his bicep. The melancholy had worn off both of you, and the room started to fill with laughter. “I’m serious!” Tony threw his arms up to mock defeat before changing the topic a little. “But really, I think he wants to apologize to you for what happened.”

Your face drew a blank, mixing shock and confusion as you blinked at your father a few times. “Parker wants to apologize to me? For my meltdown?”

A shrug caught in your father’s posture. “You two are more similar than you think, hon.” His tone was light and sincere as he chuckled, quietly, “You both put the weight of other people’s mistakes on your shoulders.” His words draped a blanket of guilt over your body. Your own words from said meltdown began to replay through your brain like a broken record; the blame you’d thrown at Peter was wrongfully served.

You knew you needed to apologize.

After rebuilding trust with your father, and mentally rehearsing how to apologize to Peter, you made your way across the apartment to the guest room.

The door was already open, and gave you the perfect view of Peter seated on the edge of the bed. He was reading, fidgeting fingers at the edge of his pages, and chocolate curls shadowing his focused expression.

Now that you’d been able to release the steam of your self–consciousness, you realized that hatred wasn’t the actual feeling you had towards Peter; it was envy. And once you had talked things out with your father, the clouds of your judgment cleared from your vision and you could finally see Peter Parker for who he really was: a boy. A boy your age who needed a place to crash for the weekend.

You felt guilty for interrupting his reading, but at this point, the feeling was a tiny speck to add to your growing pile of culpability. The knock was gentle, and immediately pulled his eyes to meet yours.

“Mind if I come in for a minute?” You had to croak the words out, but still managed to keep a softness to your tone. You didn’t want to yell at him again, or come across like you were about to.

The look he gave you wasn’t one you weren’t expecting; he eyed you like he’d committed an unforgivable crime, or like you’d break if he didn’t hold you together. It gave you reassurance that this apology definitely needed to come out sooner than later.

Peter book–marked his place without looking, keeping his stare fixed on you while he nodded. “Please,” He gestured to the foot of the bed beside him, “Sit. I– uh, I was planning to find you and see if you were alright, but I didn’t want to interrupt your space.”

As you sat down beside him, a smile touched your lips at how thoughtful he was. “I appreciate that, but I–I owe you an apology, Peter..” You never broke your eye contact, but the look in your eyes grew more urgent, pleading. “I am so sorry for speaking to you that way, and–”

You cut yourself off at the sight of Peter waving his hands in dismissal. He mirrored the look in your eyes, “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m here to replace you.” His words held a direness that yours should have. Your dad was right, Peter really was putting the gravity of this into his hands.

To stop his spiral, you touched his arm for a minute, “Peter, that wasn’t your fault. It was mine for assuming and unloading all of that shit onto you. And I’m sorry for that.”

His eyes alone begged you to let him win the argument. “I still could have–”

You cut him off, “Peter, it’s not your fault.” You tried to emphasize your point, noticing the way he read your expression. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, searching for what looked like a sign of your uncertainty. His lips parted to contribute his side of the argument, but one look from you shut his trap pretty quickly.

Peter’s shoulder’s eased, but his eyes still glistened with ambition. He wanted you to understand his perspective a little. “Did your dad tell you how nervous I was to meet you?”

That wasn’t what you were expecting. Your eyes widened a little, shaking your head in response. Peter Parker? Nervous to meet you? The way your dad talked about him didn’t set him up to be that way. Of course, seeing him in front of you changed your perception a little. “No, he didn’t.” You were honest.

He wet his lips, parting them with the warmest smile you’d ever set your eyes on. The laugh that spilt from them was melodic, laced with a bit of nerves. He rubbed a muscle on the back of his neck, suddenly choking up. “Yeah, I was pretty nervous.” His brow arched slightly, complimenting his grin photogenically. “I was nervous ‘cause Mister Stark’s always talking the world to me about his amazing daughter.” Peter’s smile grew in your direction, stirring a hurricane of butterflies through your stomach.

It felt like the two of you were in the midst of a staring contest; though, instead of the intense anticipation glistening in each other’s eyes, you mutually stared at each other in security. You’d both had the immense pressure of making good impressions toward the other on your shoulders.

Peter repositioned himself on the bed, now seated facing you. His legs were crossed beneath him, his knee a hair from touching yours. “You, Y/N, are not only his greatest accomplishment, but you’re his best friend.” His words spread like butter over every worry you’d had, melting away that crippling insecurity with it. “I think he wants to be you when he grows up.”

The laughs that bubbled up your throat brought attention to the tears brimming your eyes. You blinked them away, mirroring Peter’s earnest expression. “I can tell why my dad’s always talking about you.” You told him, “And here I was thinking you’d be some old ass dude living in his mother’s basement, but here we are.”

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t be drop–dead gorgeous.” His cheeks were ablaze with crimson, sending a pink glow of your own to your complexion. “But, here we are.”

Your smile grew, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Alright, casanova. Save it for the love letters.” It felt nice to share laughter like this with Peter. You were glad that you gave him a second chance. Not breaking eye contact, you slid off the bed and rose to your feet. “I’ll let you get back to your reading”

Peter watched you get up to go, looking a little disappointed. You were almost surprised, but likewise, both you and Peter hid the honesty of your feelings behind the curtains of a smile.

“You don’t have to. You could stay if you want.” He started, but a look flashed behind his eyes that was rather telling; he seemed to panic over his eagerness for your company. “Unless you don’t want to–”

Biting the inside of your cheek hurt, but it was the only way to hide how wide your smile grew. “I’d love to, but I need to finish that circuit board.” And thus, the idea struck you. “You doing anything later though?”

His brows pressed together in a curious way. “Not really. You planning something?”

“Yeah. My dad and I usually have movie nights tonight.” You took paces backwards towards the door, but stalled from the moment you’d have to part ways. “You should join us! It’s my turn to pick.”

The sight of his dimples made you realize just how much you’d grown fond of his smile. It was already getting difficult to leave his presence; you knew if you didn’t leave now, you probably never would.

“Well, then you better pick a good one, just for me.” He challenged. You’d make it your goal to satisfy his request.

If even possible, it felt like your grin grew. “I plan to.”

And that said, the three of you met in the home–theater and watched Jurassic Park together. You had Tony on your left geeking out over the CGI technology from the 80s, and Peter on his left geeking out about how accurate the movie was from the book. It made your film decision that much better. It also was the best movie night you’d had in a long while.

Perhaps your dad was right: you and Peter Parker really would get along great.

#🕊️ .゜ 𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕽𝐄𝐐. #imagine #marvel imagines #mcu #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker canon #peter parker angst #tony stark #tony stark and peter parker #tony stark angst #stark daughter #mcu peter parker #mcu imagine #mcu peter parker x reader #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu peter x reader #mcu angst #mcu peter parker angst #mcu fluff #peter parker mcu #peter parker fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #daddy issues #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

[thefreakandthehair]

The plants are Eddie's idea.

Each and every one of them is rescued or adopted in some way: salvaged from a home that hadn't cared for it, up for grabs on the side of the road, forgotten in the corners of Home Depot, leftovers from wedding centerpieces that surely are going to be tossed after the reception ends. Eddie knows what it feels like to be forgotten, left out, neglected, and just because plants don't have a voice stand on lunch tables and air their frustrations with broken systems, that doesn't mean they don't feel. So yes, Eddie loves his plants, loves them with almost the same intensity that he loves their cat, Bruce.

At first, Steve just nods and shrugs and gives Eddie that fond smile that says I don't get it but you're happy so I'm happy. The same smile Steve wears when Eddie rambles on about Dungeons and Dragons, about the intricacies of being both a Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne fan, about why Mothman and Bigfoot and mermaids absolutely exist, Steve! It's endearing and warm, and Eddie loves him so goddamn much. Even more than Bruce, even more than the plants.

What Eddie doesn't expect, though, is for Steve to grow to love the plants, too. In true Steve fashion, he brushes it off when he pinches dead leaves from the Pothos, or when he smiles as he sprays the Boston fern. Eddie knows that, bare minimum, Steve cares about their plant babies and so when he ends up going on a week-long tour with Corroded Coffin, he doesn't worry too much about the little green souls that litter their apartment.

A week is a long time, and Eddie misses home so much that he doesn't announce himself as he barrels through the front door the following Saturday afternoon.

"Yeah, see? You’re doing great."

Eddie freezes in his tracks. Who the fuck is Steve talking to with that whispered voice? The one that, up until now, Eddie presumed was for him and him only. He knows he'd never cheat, but seriously, who's in their apartment?

"Atta girl, look at you! See, I told you, we'd figure this out."

He sets his bags down as quietly as he can, toes off his boots, and slowly pads along the beige carpet to peak around the corner to their living room.

Oh.

Steve's talking to their plants.

Eddie leans against the doorframe and watches as Steve smiles, wide and bright enough to replace the sun shining in through the streaky bay window, while moving from plant to plant, pot to pot, singing their praises and lavishing them with compliments and affirmation.

"You're growing so well!"

"See? I watered you and you popped right back up. You don't have to be dramatic about it."

"When your other dad gets home, we’ve gotta talk about repotting you. You're definitely outgrowing this pot."

Eddie clears his throat and Steve whirls around with a wild look in his eye that reminds him so much of the time he caught Dustin snooping in his campaign materials that he briefly wonders if Dustin and Steve actually are biologically related.

“Oh honey, I’m home!” Eddie singsongs and grins as he shoves away from the door jam, walking over to Steve who’s already rolling his eyes and groaning.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to feel a little jealous of the Boston fern over here.” Eddie gestures towards the large fern spilling over the sides of its planter. “You never tell me I’m growing so well.”

Steve sets down the watering bottle and pulls Eddie in closer, both arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Eddie melts, letting himself be held and loved. A week really is a long time.

“No, but I do tell you when you’re being dramatic,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips that’s more the touch of smiles than of mouths.

Eddie pulls back just enough to catch Steve’s gaze, warm and comforting. “You do realize that I’ll never let this go, right?”

Never. Always. Forever.

Eddie was never one for absolute language, except when it comes to Steve. He’ll never let him live this down, because he’ll always be here. Forever.

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “I’d sure hope not.”

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myfic #myblurbs #honestly my anxiety spiked at random so i spent a lot of time today tending my plant babies #and idk but then this happened! #plant dad eddie munson #plant dad steve harrington #steve is like the dad that didn't want the cat and then is the cat's best friend

[ddejavvu]

Hi, could i make a request for Eddie Munson, ab angst/comfort one where he cries the first time reader kisses him? Because he's never ever been loved like that, and he didn't realize how touch starved he was until the gesture overwhelmed him? 🥺❤️ Love your writing

i love love love touch starved!eddie/lovesick eddie who has never been loved on like that before :(( <33

--

Tears are the absolute last reaction anyone wants to their kiss. Yet here they are, wetting your boyfriend's lashes and streaking down his cheeks. You feel one slide against your lip, you feel the taste of salt invade the kiss, and you pull back.

"Eddie-" You start, but he's already hunched over, facing away from you as he rubs furiously at his eyes.

"Shit," He breathes, his voice creaky, "Sorry, sweetheart. Just gimme a second, okay?"

He's trying to placate you, he's trying to make you think it's not as bad as it is. But you know better, and you set a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Eddie," You try again, keeping your voice low and soothing, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," He croaks, a strand of his hair caught in his mouth, "I.. I swear honey, nothing's wrong, jus' gotta-"

"Eddie," You repeat one final time, "Please don't lie to me."

He sighs shakily, a shudder wracking his shoulders that you can feel in your hand.

"It's dumb." He attempts to stave off your worry but you're not having it.

"It's making you cry," You remind him, "If it's making you cry it's not dumb."

"No, it is, though." He insists, finally sitting up straight and letting his hands fall into his lap, "It's stupid. Listen, when I was a kid," He starts, his eyes still red-rimmed and teary, "My mom.. she died when I was real young."

"I'm sorry to hear that," You let your hand fall from his shoulder to one of his own, his rings cool against your skin.

"And- and my dad," He presses on, "He was not nice. My uncle's great and all, but we don't really touch. He hugs me on my birthday and stuff, sometimes he, I dunno, pats my shoulder? I just.." He hesitates, avoiding your eyes, "I don't get loved, not like that. And I guess-" He squeezes your hand, his voice shaking, "I guess I like being loved."

You don't mean to fall silent after his confession, but you do. You're so overwhelmed with endearment for the crying boy in front of you that you take your time admiring him, the soft blush on his cheeks and the scrunch of his nose as he sniffles.

Then you speak, "Well, I'm glad you like being loved. Because I like loving you, Eddie. I love loving you."

His face tugs up into a teary grin, a sob lingering in his throat that he has to fight to contain. He digs his teeth into his lower lip, nodding softly and sending his hair bouncing, "Yeah?"

There's so much hope in his voice, so much desperation that it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

"Yeah." You confirm. You cup his cheeks, giving him time to process the movement before you plant a firm kiss against his nose, "I'll always love you, Eddie, for as long as you'll let me."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson angst

[tlou-reid]

spencer!dad with a teen daughter, theyre having an argument (bad grades, behaviour, sassy etc) but in the end she feels bad for her actions and apologises. fluffy/happy ending please <3

the only way to comfort your daughter most of the time was to remind her that spencer was a statistical anomaly.

there was such a small chance of him having such a big, beautiful brain, and it was completely unfair of her to hold herself to the same standards he held himself to. but, she did it anyways. and this caused a lot of tension in the house. especially since she started high school.

claire, your oldest child and only daughter, has been gifted. she was years ahead of her classmates, already taking calculus 1 instead of the algebra her friends were in. but being in these classes came with a lot of work on her part. and you did not mind helping her, but keeping up with the way schools change how they taught or trying to do the hard math she was doing wasn’t going too well.

so, spencer stepped in.

“you’re looking for the derivative here,” spencer spoke, frustrating clear in his voice. “that’s what i just said!” claire exasperated, throwing her arms up and tossing her pencil down the table. “you’re not listening to me!” you could hear the frustration and the hurt in her voice. you wished you could step in, but you knew you’d be no help.

“if you knew that, you shouldn’t have asked for help.” spencer rolled his eyes, growing equally as frustrated. “stop being rude, claire. i’m just trying to help you.” communication had never been spencer’s strong suit.

from your place in the kitchen, you could see the way spencer’s face was getting redder and redder, not liking the way his daughter was talking to him. “hey guys,” you called, quickly hustling around the kitchen to throw together a snack plate, “why don’t we take a break? i have a pre-dinner plate for you guys!” you did your best to cover up the real reason why you were interrupting them. hearing them go back and fourth broke your heart, you knew they didn’t want to argue with each other and it really did upset both of them.

“i gotta get done, mom.” claire deadpanned, once again rolling her eyes. “be kind to your mother.” spencer demanded. “dad!” she shouts, needing spencer to just be quiet.

“claire, go to the living room.” you pushed, shooing her away. they needed space from each other. they were too alike for their own good.

“you didn’t have to do that,” spencer sighs, accepting defeat. “yes, i did, spence. you gotta be nicer when she asks for help.” spencer nods, not really caring for your opinion.

claire had disappeared to her room, working on assignments for other classes. she doesn’t come out until you call everyone down for dinner. she asks her little brother, benny, to switch seats so she could sit next to spencer.

as you’re in the kitchen scooping everyone’s plate, you hear claire talking to her. “dad, i finished the homework.” she says, not elaborating. “yeah, how’d it go?” he smiles at her. the anger he was feeling washed away just as quickly as it came. “yeah, i had mixed up the different variables a few steps up. i had to resolve it like six times.” she explains. “great job, claire bear.” claire smiles.

claire was like her father, never one to apologize despite knowing she was wrong. neither of them would say the words “i’m sorry”, but the way they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert was more meaningful anyways.

#i’ve never taken a calc class #hope this makes sense to the math nerds #spencer imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[luveline]

Hey jade!!!! I love your work ❤️❤️. I was wondering if you would do more of the kisses before dinner au? Maybe just some fluff of Steve and r taking care of the new baby?? Or anything you want with them—I just love that au so much. Thanks!!!

dad!steve and mom!reader finding a balance with the new baby<3 thank you for your request!

Steve Harrington was meant to be a dad. He’s wanted to have kids since he was young, twenty and broken-hearted thinking up futures he worried he might never have. And then he met you, and all too soon (somehow not soon enough) you were having his baby, and now he’s here. 

He can’t believe it. 

The baby sleeps in his arms. She’s three weeks old, so so small, and she looks a lot like you, in his opinion. You’d laughed fondly and exhausted into his shoulder when he told you his theory a couple of minutes ago, saying, Babies look like babies, Steve. 

Still, Steve looks at her and he can’t help hoping she’ll have your eyes, your nose, your big pretty smile. 

You’re dozing with your head propped against his shoulder, drooling down his arm. Avery’s in your lap, and she doesn’t seem disappointed that you’ve fallen asleep. Steve worried she might be, because with the new baby finally here and home, Avery’s not getting nearly as much attention as she should. Steve feels guilty but he knows everything will be back to normal soon. You can only do what you can. 

“What do you think, Ave?” he asks quietly. “She look like your mom?”

“I hope she looks like you so she looks like me,” Avery says. 

“But what about Bethie?” Steve asks. Avery is the oldest, Bethie her junior. 

“What about Beth?”

“If you look like me, and Dove looks like me,” —Dove, the former youngest, your two year old— “and then the baby looks like me, only Beth looks like your mom.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he says genuinely. 

Steve never thought he was ugly, but seeing his face on someone else’s, seeing the brown of his eyes staring back at him through Avery’s gaze, it gave him an appreciation for his features that he never had before. But… you’re beautiful. The love of his life, before and after his children. He thinks it’s only fair that these sweethearts you made near enough by yourself would carry you with them in more than their actions. It’s the reason he finds himself so sweet on Bethie. (All his girls are gorgeous and loved, of course, but he looks at Beth and he sees you every now and then. He catches you in her unassuming smiles and hears you in her laugh and he can’t help it, he leans over to give her hair a good stroke.) 

But again, if the baby looks like Steve, it won’t matter. In the same way it didn’t matter that she was another girl. She’ll be just as loved as the rest of them, no matter what. She already is. 

Like she knows she’s being talked about, the baby coughs in his arms. Steve’s a pro at babies now, truly, he knows all the steps. He’s a great dad. And still his heart stops when he’s reminded of how new she is, how fragile.

How strong, too. Her little leg twitches against his chest. Steve beams down at her, relieved when she stays sleeping.

“Did you and mom pick a name yet?” Avery whispers. 

“Why? Do you have any ideas?” Steve asks back. 

“I don’t know.”

Steve tries to pour as much of his love and pride for her into his expression as he can. “Come on, Avery, tell me. I can’t promise we’ll choose one, but I wanna hear your ideas. What names do you like?”

“I liked Heather,” she says. That was one Steve suggested. You’d been unsure. 

“Yeah?”

“And Tiffany, too. We’d be Ave, Beth, Dove and Tiff.”

“You’d sound like a TV show,” Steve laughs. 

Avery giggles. “Okay, what about Sarah? Or Jessica?”

“I know too many Jessica’s,” Steve says, “but Sarah’s really nice.” 

Steve doesn’t know what you’ll choose. Three weeks is the longest one of his girls has gone without a name, because this time you just can’t pick. Avery had a name before she was born, and you got one look at Dove and knew, but Bethie hadn’t been so easy, and now this new baby is following suit. 

“Dad?”

“What?”

“She’s awake.”

Steve looks down, perplexed, and finds Avery’s right. The baby is awake in his arms, unmoving beside her slow sticky blinks. 

“Some babies don’t open their eyes for weeks,” Steve tells Avery. 

“Did I open mine?”

He nods. “You did.”

You rouse against Steve’s shoulder like you can tell the baby is alert. Maybe you can. You sit up with a little moan that makes his heartbreak in half for you, and your hand shoots to your hips. You’ve had a lot of pelvis pain, and some additional soreness where expected. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You barely hear him, love and tenderness in every line and pore of your face. “My baby,” you say, with more emotions in your voice than there are words to describe. “Look, she’s looking at you.”

You pull Avery into your chest and she melts at the affection. She must be missing you more than she’ll say. You notice as Steve notices, tearing your gaze from the newborn against his chest to dot kisses in a bow over her forehead. “My first baby,” you say, delighted. “Sorry for falling asleep. Tell me about your day, honey, I promise I won’t fall asleep again.”

The baby starts crying eventually, and Avery’s face falls. You’re torn, Steve can tell, but you look at him with a smile that says, You have it, right?

Of course he does. Parenting is a balance you struck with one another a long time ago. He takes the baby into the kitchen to heat up a bottle of milk, and listens to you and Avery talking in the living room, hand pat pat patting the baby’s back. 

“Hi, daddy.”

Steve pauses. He holds the baby tight to his chest, before bending down to look under the kitchen table. 

“Oh, there my girls are. I thought you were upstairs watching Princess Polly.”

Dove and Bethie are under the table with a pack of crayons and a huge pad of paper. There’s paper scraps everywhere, and they couldn’t look happier in their mismatched pyjamas. Bethie’s the one who’d spoken, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon.

Dove holds up her drawing. “Look!” she says. 

“I’m looking!” he promises. “Woah! So pretty!”

Bethie won’t show hers. “Mine’s for mommy.”

“I see. Sure I can’t have a little sneak peek?”

She shakes her head. Steve kneels down on the floor so he can watch them drawing, the baby against his chest, bottle held to her mouth. He stays there as the baby falls asleep and is overjoyed by the sound of wax on paper, Dove’s happy babbling, and your laughter echoing in from the living room. 

“Aw, baby,” you’re saying, like Avery’s told you something silly, “I love you.” 

Steve doesn’t know who he’s trying to say it to, but he mouths it after you anyhow. I love you. All his girls. 

The baby hiccups. 

Steve thinks it might be her first love you too. 

—

more of this universe <3 please consider reblogging if you enjoyed<3

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[creedslove]

Which one of Pedro boys is more likely to move out of the bedroom, because your little baby is not letting him sleep properly. and because he has a job, he is like "no, I'm not sleeping in the same room as you and the baby."

I'm just crushed a little, because I heard a conversation ar my work among two men, who done this. I can't stop thinking about it since.

Like. Who would leave a bedroom to go sleep in a living room, until baby start sleeping during the night.

Javier P? He has responsible job. He needs to focus and think clearly.

Joel? Drive a car to work, he needs to focus and be precise.

Frankie? If someone suggested to him this as a solution, would he listen to the advice?

Jack? He is an agent, constant danger require clear and rested mind.

Dave? Would he take a pillow and move in his spare bedroom for few weeks?

Tim?! He is detective. 🍓✨

This makes me so sad, I get so upset when I see/hear about men being so insensitive towards their own son. Taking care of babies is exhausting but everyone should help, the couple, it's unfair to do that and so rude too.

That being said, I'm sure NONE of the Pedro boys would do that, because they are all great dads on their own way 🥺😍

So thinking of a situation like the one you mentioned, I believe that:

Javier Peña: he ain't no stranger to lack of sleep at night, he often suffers from it and struggles to get back to sleep once he wakes up, so instead wanting to move to another room, he picks up the baby and walks around the house with him, he's so soft, saying love words to his beautiful baby trying to calm his precious little child, since he can't sleep, he doesn't see why he would prevent you from resting in order to watch the baby

Joel Miller: yeah Joel works A LOT and it's hard work, but he also knows you work a lot by taking care of the baby and he's also been a dad, he knows some nights are easy and some are a nightmare. So he does what's correct: he acts like a real man and helps you take care of the baby; no matter how much their little Miller cries, he's there to help you, or he's there to tell you to go back to bed because he's gonna handle it. And I'm sure he plays the guitar to the baby 🤧🥺

Agent Whiskey: please, we know Jack's favorite hobby is to worship you and treat you like a goddamn queen, especially after you gave him his precious little Daniels baby; you've given him a family and he's given you himself entirely, and he will never let anything or anyone take away his family from him, so he will never leave you alone in the bedroom, that's just not happening at all... The baby's crying? No problem sugar, daddy Daniels is gonna take care of him for you. He checks the baby for a fever, a diaper change, sees if he's hungry and if by then your little cowboy hasn't calmed down, then he just holds the baby. Simple as that, giving him the snuggles until the baby is calmly asleep

Dave York: Dave would never sleep somewhere else, it doesn't matter if he literally kills for a living, inside his house, he's a family man and he will always make sure his family is around him. He thinks he's already too lucky to have a woman who accepts him for all his faults and sins and the moment he starts a family with you, he can't stay way, he needs to be close, to feel that love and remind himself he's part of it, also, he likes to be close in the case of a possible attack, he can defend you as soon as possible. If your baby simply won't stop crying, Dave will pick her up and pace the house, carrying her in his arms and he will possibly wake up on the couch with a baby slept peacefully against his chest

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal headcanons #pedro pascal headcanon #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña headcanons #javier peña headcanon #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x y/n #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x y/n #dave york x you #dave york headcanons #dave york headcanon #joel miller headcanons #joel miller headcanon #agent whiskey headcanons #agent whiskey headcanon

[harleehazbinfics]

Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 8: An Angel's Head Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 2128 A/N: aaaaa take it. we're getting more miledy backstory in the next chapter, cheers!

Feeling a gentle hand sweep through my face, I open my eyes and see Al. I wiped my own tears away and sat up.

“Couldn’t sleep well?” he asked somberly.

“Yeah, just- it’s just a few months until her birthday is all. I just miss her so much,” I answered hugging myself trying to shake my anxiety.

He sighs, probably feeling the same way. Al left us before Abby could even reach her 4th birthday. He adored Abigail, in some way she had her grandmother’s face that made him attached to her even more. So, leaving without seeing Abby through adulthood has been rough on him. Though I’ve him told stories about our lives, how Abby missed him and often quoted his sayings from his recorded shows that she begged me to give her when she found it in her father’s old studio when we were cleaning it out. It warmed his heart that he was still an important part of her life despite being gone, clearly pleased that he didn’t end up like his own dad that he grown to despise.

“I know, but since we haven’t found her here. She must be off up there, somewhere better… safer…” he mutters almost regretfully.

I tried to smile and held his hand in assurance, “Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

He raises his lips to a smile and says, “Well then! How about some breakfast to lighten up the mood?” and guides me to the table in the woods in our room placing a dish for me and a deer carcass on his side. I roll my eyes playfully at him and said, “I’m not standing next to you if you don’t take a mint after.”

“Of course, of course. I won’t forget.”

While we enjoyed our meal together, the door bursts open to reveal Vaggie and a bunch of Eggbois.

“Alastor!”

His eyes shifted from her to me and his meal before replying, “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of breakfast.”

“Good morning to you too, Vaggie,” I greet before eating a mouthful of the meal that Alastor prepared for me.

“Hi,” she responds dryly, “Pentious' eggs are all over the place, and I need you to get rid of them.”

He throws away his utensils and summons his microphone before responding, “Oh, well, in that case, I'd be delighted to!”

“Humanely!”

“Hmm. Well, that's a lot less fun,” he remarks turning his head from Vaggie and on to me revealing his glowing red eyes and the x-mark on his forehead, “but I suppose I can take care of that on my outing today.”

“Great!” she looks at our table and sees the dead deer and comments, “That looks disgusting.”

“Dear, can you wait after breakfast?” I sighed, while Vaggie saw herself out.

“Alright, I can wait,” he smiled smiling at me and sitting in front of me again.

“Hello, little men. How are you all doing today?”

“Hi, pretty fish lady! We’re well, though we got kicked out by the owners, now we’re going wherever you go!”

I laugh at them petting their heads, “I see. Now be good eggbois and follow Alastor and I closely. We don’t want you ending up cracked.”

They saluted at us rather clumsily making it endearing for me to look at, they remind me so much of how the children in the orphanage played pretend.

As we enter Pentagram City, the little Eggbois kept pestering Alastor with questions making me cover my giggles under my hand as I watched his eye twitch in annoyance from their never-ending questions.

“This seems rather familiar. Remember when Abby reached the age where she would question us about everything?” I started with a smile, trying to calm him down.

He huffs out a laugh and nods, then shakes his head, “She was so talkative, it seemed like she would never lose her voice.”

“She’s a lot like you in that way,” I grin bumping my hips at him.

We get caught off-guard when Zestial comes before us, I guess we were so engrossed in our conversation that we missed this mighty being’s arrival.

“Hark, Alastor, M’lady. How fare thee this day?”

He places a peck on my hand in greeting while Alastor makes a little static sound.

“Who's that, boss? Want me to rough him up for you?”

“Follow in silence if you value your shell!” he replies tapping their heads and then turns back, “Greetings, Zestial!”

“Ah, the weather, doth become this fine day.”

 “Indeed, looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon!”

Not a moment later, a demon overhearing their conversation lights themselves on fire and runs away screaming, my eyes following his figure before our party continues with our walk. I let the two gentlemen talk with themselves—listening in to their conversation.

“If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us thy presence. Some hath spun wild tales of you falling to... holy arms.”

As he says this, my eyes couldn’t help but widen at the implication. This wasn’t just about him helping Charlie, who by proxy is Lucifer’s daughter—an angel. Does he mean that he made a deal with someone from heaven. With a confused look, I turn my eyes on Alastor who looks around somewhat nervously.

“Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical, nothing serious,” he adjusts his bowtie in the mirror as he answers, “Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes!”

“There too hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. Tell me,” he stops walking and opens his coat briefly, making me somewhat embarrassed for looking directly at him, “how does thou fall in such folly?

“That is for me to know. But please, do guess, I'd love to know the theories!” Alastor answers holding his cane in one hand and the other on my waist pulling us forward.

“T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm!” Zestial comments.

“Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment!” Alastor ‘smiles’ as we arrive at the entrance to Carmilla’s building. While we got on the elevator, the little Eggbois closely followed only to be stopped by Alastor.

“No, no. I have a very important task for you. Stay here and guard the front until I return,” Alastor commands making them salute. I raise my eyebrow counting only four of them. I find the other one near the door, which I pushed behind me with my foot signaling him to stay quiet.

We entered the venue, quietly greeting Rosie then sitting between her and Alastor.

“Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together, you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new Extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest.”

“Zestial, so good to see you, my friend,” she greets when he sits near her.

He summons a teacup and saucer and replies, “Enchanted as always, Carmilla.”

She finally notices my husband and calls him, “Alastor?”

He replies smugly, “Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering!”

“...Not really. But welcome back in any case,” she replies dismissing him which he narrows his eyes in offence to.

“This year's Extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we—"

She gets cut off when Velvette enters the room on the phone with presumably one of the other Vees, side-eyeing her for her impertinence.

“Yes, I've got it handled, Vox. Are you doubting me? Really? Me? That's what I thought. Haha! Yes, I know. They're all a joke. Thank you, V. See you soon. Kisses, darling.”

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your... colleagues be joining?” Carmilla asks despite being rudely cut off by the brat.

“No, they have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent.”

“Charming. So, as I was saying, we need to discuss—"

She again interrupts Carmilla by waving her hand to get her attention.

“Yes?”

“On the subject of discussion,” she starts before taking out an Exorcist’s head throwing it onto the table lolling side to side as it rests in front of us.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh! Tasty...”

Narrowing her eyes, Carmilla asks, “Where did you get this?”

“We found it during Extermination Day. If these Holy Rollers can be killed, the game has changed. We can take the fight to them. The boys and I have come up with a full assault plan—"

Velvette stops talking as she and the other overlords look at Zestial, who is sipping his tea loudly and aggressively to drown out Velvette.

“If it be true thee and thy colleagues desire to war with such meagre proof, thou art far more... foolish than I be thought,” he laughs.

Velvette scoffs and crosses her arms, “Meagre proof? It's a dead fucking Exorcist. I'd say that's pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?”

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't, they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?”

The other overlords mutter in agreement. Velvette notices Carmilla's expression and smiles.

“Oh, I get it. So, Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?” she says getting on Zestial’s face, “Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for—"

I lost myself with Carmilla and Velvette’s little duet. They’re completely different styles but they blended well together which I appreciated a lot. Despite Velvette being a little brat coming here, I can’t help but enjoy her singing. I got startled when Carmilla announces that the meeting was over. We didn’t even properly start it when Velvette came in and suggested picking a fight with heaven.

Alastor and I walk out of the room eyes never leaving Carmilla. She seemed so defeated.

“Hmm. Well, that's interesting,” he then points at the remaining Eggboi with his cane, “You, little egg creature. I have a job for you.”

“Oh. Yes, boss!”

“Follow them!”

He then salutes and scuttles over inside the room.

I looked at it worriedly, “Will he be alright?”

“Darling. It’s a little egg thing. No need to get so attached,” he titters holding my waist and takes us to the elevator.

“But it’s so cute!” I pouted.

“Alright, we’ll ask Pentious if he can lend you one of them when he can,” he compromises making me beam at him. “Only if, he can tell us something valuable.”

“Deal!” I reply excitedly then giving him a kiss on the cheek are we got off the elevator and waited for the little egg to report to us.

He bounded happily and stops in front of us.

“So, what did you hear?” 

“First, the old guy w-was all, "Y-you're not yourself. You're the one who killed the angel," a-a-and, she was all, "♪ Whatever it takes ♪"” he reports clumsily making me smile a how adorable it was.

“And then what was the last thing?" Alastor asks getting annoyed by how jumbled up his sentences were.

“She killed the angel?”

Alastor hums finding this information important, “Interesting. Let’s keep this between us. Shall we?”

“You got it, boss!”

My eyes still wide about the information, “She killed exorcists? How? I mean the evidence was staring at us dead in the face, quite literality but, this changes everything.”

“Indeed. We should keep this to ourselves for now, this could help us someday,” he answers mysteriously.

He’s been doing that more often now with me after those years that he stayed gone. Oh Al, what happened.

We arrive at the hotel seeing them get together so happily bantering with one another.

Vaggie says from the balcony, “Alastor. failed to get rid of the eggs, I see.”

“Yes, well, the little monsters prove to be rather useful,” Alastor replies eyes glowing with excitement.

“Why don't you give them back to Pentious,” she says smiling.

“Really? Sir Pentious asks teary-eyed.

“Yeah. After today, I guess I can trust you with them. But seriously, no more weapons,” she announces putting her foot down.

“Why don’t we go to our room ourselves, dear?” Alastor suggests escorting back us to our room.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin art #hazbin hotel husk #hiwmhi #harleehazbinfic

[factual-fantasy]

YOOO 26 ASKS?? :000

I'd like to think the fight still happens but its different. Maybe Seam tried to intervene but quickly collapsed of exhaustion? Or maybe he was conked out from the start and never saw it happen? Its all possible..

Its very possible to find other lost Grillby's and Goner Kids,, etc.. but for simplicity's sake I'll say that they haven't found them <XD

As for how they see each other, Jevil cares a lot about the others. Goner kid is kind'a low-key like his adopted daughter?? A little?? <XD Seam is his best friend of course- His relationship with Grillby is rough.. but he feels very sympathetic towards Grillby and doesn't think poorly of him. Spamton is also meant to be his good friend, second to Seam. His view of Asgore is laced with a liiiiitle bit of unease becuase of his whole royalty vibe. But Asgore has proven that he is 100% trustworthy so they pals :}} I haven't thought much about his relationship with River person.. I kind'a keep forgetting that she exists <XDD --

Seam is on good terms with basically everyone. Jevil is his best friend. Him and Grillby are a little rocky.. but just like Jevil, Seam is very sympathetic towards Grillby and has no hard feelings. Spamton is a good friend of Seams and so is River person I think. Asgore's royal vibe is off putting but overall he's a great guy and they have a good friendship. Goner kid is basically Seams niece XD

Grillby kind'a feels off about everyone- his feelings towards Jevil are pretty messed up at the moment.. and by extension he doesn't get along great with Seam.. Spamton is nice, but is endlessly supportive and grateful towards Jevil so any potential friendship between them is already strained.. Goner kid reminds him too much of his late daughter so he tends to avoid her.. Now River Person and Asgore? They're wonderful. He's very close with both of them and they are the only things keeping him sane right now- River Person is incredibly gentle and soft spoken. She's really sweet and relates to Grillby's pain. They usually have quiet chats away from the group and it really helps Grillby feel better. Same for Asgore. It started with that 1 hug. Having Asgore's support has really changed the game for Grillby. River Person and Asgore are true friends of his and he doesn't know where he'd be without them <:}}

Spamton is mostly chill with everyone. His close friends would be Jevil and Seam. And Goner kid would be fun to play/mess around with. She's a good little kid. He would also consider Asgore and River Person to be his friends, although he isn't as close with them as he is with Jevil. Grillby is a tough person to approach <XD --

Goner Kid is most connected to Jevil and Seam, with Asgore being a close 3rd. Jevil is kind'a taking the role of dad in a way. Having been the one that saved her and gave her a new name. Seam is the soft uncle and Asgore is dad #2 XDD Spamton is like a fun big brother and River Person kiiind'a has mom vibes?? She's really nice. She's not really sure about Grillby..

Asgore is like the groups body guard/emotional support goat. His personality is so soft and caring that everyone gravitated to him in some way. He built genuine relationships with everyone in the group and is a good friend. He's just the best I guess XDD

I haven't planned out that much for River person.. other than her being close with Grillby and Asgore I haven't planned too much. Maybe she gets along well with Seam? Someone with a gentle sing songy voice must be relaxing for Seam to listen to.

As for the empty AU's due to bad sans'? Personally? I really don't like all those crazy sans AU's. So they don't exist in mine. If there's an empty AU its not because of a sans-

@elegysonnet

<XD Poor Seam-

And yeah no- no romantic implications- I still see what you mean. Jevil caring for Seam so much and doing everything in his power to protect and provide for him. It very well could remind Grillby of his wife. When he had a rough day at the bar he would come home to a meal on the table and a caring wife to listen to him groan about his day.

And say Seam did collapse and Jevil was worried sick. Showing how much he cares about Seam. It might just make Grillby mad. He lost everyone that ever cared about him. And its all Jevil's "fault".. That thought would be enough to set anyone off-

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

I haven't thought much about exactly how King removed Seams eye. But he very well could have restrained him with the chains. Maybe then he gouged out his eye with the weird spade tongue stomach- thing?? That he has??

Awww can you imagine? The trauma that is associated with those chains. Seeing them and being reminded of that experience every single day.. and he cant get away from those memories, because no one can remove them.. 🥺🥺

Poor guy cant even scream without causing immense pain..

He has tried to help Seam. He's tried to break the chains, but for some reason he cant even scratch them. He's tried to heal Seam to bring his strength back.. But he cant. Seam's soul just straight up rejects/cant absorb his healing magic.

The best he can really do for Seam is protect him. Seam is basically defenseless because he cant use his magic without wiping out his energy..

And he feels horrible for Seam. And Jevil.. Hearing about how they were abused by a wicked King. It makes him sick. A king is meant to protect his people, not hurt them. He vows to protect and care for his new friends, and to hopefully find someone who can break these chains..

@minophilia

Ah Transformers: Prime. The show that I stopped watching when I was less than 10 episodes away from the finale <XD

@funkymonkeyzz

I hate to break it to ya, but I kiiind'a low-key despise Paani. :x I don't think I'll be drawing him anytime soon-

As for Tracker, He'd probably look just like Barnacles but less muscle, more fluff <XD

@boxofcreampuffs

My Spamton looked just like any other addison. But with glasses, and his hair could have been black by default perhaps.? I might have to draw him sometime :0

As for main character interactions. I've thought about the group witnessing Kris and the gang in a battle. In which they see Ralsei heal the others.. They promptly ambush the group and beg Ralsei to heal Seam and Spamton. Ralsei, being the absolute sweet heart that he is, agrees to help. But it doesn't really work out the way they'd hoped..

I also thought about Seam being collapsed in the snow somewhere while Jevil goes to search for food. While he's gone. Either a Frisk or the soul of kindness finds him.. 👀👀

In the Partial swap, I'm thinking that the only characters that switched places was Freddy with Bonnie, and Chica with Foxy. I'm going back on my idea to have Roxy switch places with Monty..

In the TRUE swap. Its Freddy - Bonnie, Chica - Foxy, Monty - Roxy, DJMM - DA, and Gregory - Vanessa.

Also thank you! :}}

Yes! :0

@wolfie-777

Absolute. utter. chaos. XDD No one would be sane-

In the Partial swap, with Gregory as the kid.. its Foxy. Although much like the classic AU, the band is kind'a split..

Bonnie is a grumpy recluse and so is Roxy. Monty and Foxy are pals though. They're also friends with DA and DJMM and keep regular contact. Foxy is the main one that always tries to keep the spirits up and keep the group together. But there's not much he can really do..

In the true swap, with Vanessa as the kid.. It would probably still be Foxy <XD

Its possible..? But I never really planned for him to meet anyone like that-

@tiredlilmiracle

I've never heard of it actually, Google says its a game? :0

I'm not sure what you mean.. You mean like, what do all their attacks look like?

If so, most of Jevils attacks are like the ones he has in the base game. Although my Jevil might prefer to use his scythe most of the time.

As for Seam I imagined a lot of sewing related attacks. Sewing needles with thread attached that connects to his soul being 1.

There's actually a comic here on Tumblr called "Paper Trail" that shows a Seam battle sequence! It was made by lynxgriffin and that battle scene might give you a good idea of what my Seams attacks could look like! I highly recommend the comic :00

If you mean how powerful? I don't really have a good measurement or character to compare them to.. But I do know that Jevil and Seam are equally matched. If they both fought each other at their strongest, neither would win. They would just exhaust themselves and collapse <XD

@mashmellowy

Nopenopenopenope sorry nuh uh nope nopenope-

@ocinstituterep

I think they share a pod because they're the highest authority on the ship. Captain and Lieutenant. Makes sense why'd they bunk in the same pod.

I can also see that. :0 Maybe after a rough mission or just a long day.. I can see Kwazii popping in to check and make sure the Captains alright 🥺

@djadecutie

I don't think the skelebros have any special immunity because Grillby is made of magical/monster fire. Maybe regular fire the bros bodies react differently to.? But If they were in Jevil's place, Grillbys hand would've chopped away at their health just as badly and as fast as it did Jevil's..

For different monsters having different depletion speeds? Its possible. It could be that most monsters are all effected the same except for a select few cases. I think it also depends on the monsters strength. Like-

If Grillby tried to burn an Asgore. It might not effect him as badly due to him having his own kind of fire magic. Plus he's really strong. Or if Grillby tried to burn another fire person, I imagine he can still hurt them.. but not as badly as he could if they were a different species. It's not just Grillby burning you with fire- it's Grillby using his soul/magic to try and hurt you on purpose.

If Grillby tried to burn Undyne or Papyrus? Well that would just be a slam dunk. They don't have any fire related powers or any physical attributes that could help them. So they just get burned. I hope this made sense-

Also thank you!! :DDD

He does, but its not much bigger than Freddy or Monty's.

I imagined that although Bonnie is bigger than the others, his torso is full of a lot more electronic components and parts. Which would make his actual stomach hatch space kind'a cramped.. If not smaller than Freddy's and Monty's.

@beryl-shade

He cant fly no. Nor was his speed really increased much I imagine. But he very well could be more flexible and move more freely than before :0

@milk-powrit (Post in question)

They're pretty stinkin tough. But Waluigi standing with an arrow through his ankle doesn't mean he's superman. Just means that he's probably high on adrenaline and more focused on helping the weird tiny green man then on the pain in his leg.

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!😭😭💗🍤💗

And honestly thats exactly how I feel. I'm so tired of the constant shipping everywhere that I just banned it from all my AUs and fanart <XD

And wow, I'm surprised by the number of people that have told me that XDD You guys just happen to be into all the stuff I'M into I'd say XD

@citrusfruitman

Personally I remember not liking it.. but watching Markiplier play it was fun :}

I've actually played a bit of hat in time! I even have three posts about it that I can recall! :00

Post one, two and three! :}

#my response #do not tag as ship #fnaf security breach #deltarune #undertale #tw descriptions of gore #tw gore #octonauts

[fictionalmenxyn]

Heya! I wanted to request how the task force 141 and Los vaqueros member interacts with their s/o who has kinda of a childlike energy! (Like, rambunctious, loud, funny, very affectionate- not like a creepy way lmao)

I hope you are doing well :]

Hi, I’m doing fine thanks :) hope your okay as well <3

And yeah I’m definitely going to do this as it’s a good idea!

Ghost

At first before he became your s/o he kinda thought of it as annoying. As you always liked to joke around and be affectionate with the others as you knew he wasn’t thee type of guy to be energetic. But in really he was a bit jealous.

Once he became your s/o he love that no matter how moody or stressed he was you’d always find a way into making him feel better and making his day feel better.

He loves that you are very affectionate towards him because he never really felt that anyone he knew would do stuff like it.

When your loud and rambunctious he’ll let you do your thing. He knows this is what your like so he isn’t exactly going to tell you that you can’t be you.

When your both laying in bed I feel like this would be the most time you’d be affectionate as you know he’s a private type of man. So when your both laying together in bed you’d cuddle him, tell him you love him, ask how he’s feeling even if he doesn’t want to tell you, ask how his day went, etc.

Your are very funny and a good person to have a laugh with. Although you can’t see his smile you can tell when he is.

If you got out of missions he’ll tell his famous dad jokes and you try your best not to laugh. Knowing your currently on a mission.

You have a lot of creative skills since your always wanting to try new things out. So why not try something new that could be a gift for Ghost? So you ended up making him a new mask. And to this day he’ll wear it, what if it breaks? He’ll ask if you fix it and to your handy dandy skills you’ll do how fix it to be brand new.

One thing which is a win in Ghosts eyes is that your quite simple. Like if it’s choosing something or food wise. Sometimes he won’t need to ask for certain things because he’ll already know the answer.

Soap

Matches your energy. He loves that you are so energetic and loveable.

He likes to show you his drawings and would love to teach you to draw. It makes you giddy that he loves showing you his interests.

You like that he matches your energy cause all the people you’ve met they’ve either try to match your energy or hate it. But him he matches it 100%. You love he gives your the same amount of effort into showing you affection as you do to him.

He knows that your love for trying to make everyone happy so he lets you know that you make him happy everyday and that you’re amazing!

If you are not in the military, you would FaceTime and show him everything you’ve bought things like clothes or books and he’ll ask about it and listen to you ramble about why you got it, how you got it and where you got it.

You can be loud at times but he’s fine with that. As long as it’s not in the middle of the night. You love that he is fine with you being a loud person cause sometimes he can be just as loud.

He loves that you can be affectionate cause he loves that he can show it to you as well. You both are able to express and except each other’s affection which is great! It’s not like neither of you push the others away.

He adores you overall and is very grateful that you have become apart of his life. Although people may think you always act like a child and are/is childish. He doesn’t care, he loves you for you.

Gaz

He is totally into you even more. As at first you were quite shy but as soon as you became comfortable around him.. boom! But he knew you were the one and he loves that you are comfortable around him.

He loves that you give him loads of affection. He loves that you give him cuddles, but him things that reminded you of him, say things that makes him feel better, etc.

He is totally fine with you being wild as he shows you that he loves that you can be yourself and not feel shy or embarrassed about it. He wants you to feel like yourself, he knows that if your happy then he’s happy.

He loves how you can be into many things and enjoy them all. He loves you that you try your best with every new interest and he helps you if needed.

He can match your energy at times as your both childlike. Feel like since he’s the youngest in 141, feel like he’d still feel like he still has childlike qualities. So he can match your energy.

You both love making each other laugh. You both show each other memes or TikTok’s and laugh together. Sometimes when your both free you play make it meme (I recommend playing the game it’s good especially with friends) you’ll both laugh your heads off till either your ribs hurt or till you both rush off to the toilet.

He loves when you’ve both calmed down the for night and are both laying on the sofa and cuddling. Since you tend to fidget you usually fidget with his hands. He loves when you do it because it not just calms you down but it also comforts him.

He loves that you can feel free and comfortable around him and that’s all that matters to him and yourself.

Price

He loves that you can be you without a problem. Price loves to show people how great of a person you are and how great and energetic you are.

He loves that you are affectionate towards him but in different ways. You love giving him small gifts to see him smile also to cook for him as he loves the food you make. He loves when you sit next to him in his office and draw or doodle till he’s finished so you can talk to him.

He loves sitting on the sofa next to you while you tell him about your day or what you did. You can talk his head off but he doesn’t mind it.

He likes if/when your wanting to explore. So he’ll ask if you want to go by the beach side (if there is one near you or not however you want to think of it as) or he will ask if you want to go on a walk or hike.

Loves taking you out places so your mind can run wild especially if it’s like a art gallery, museum or whatever you enjoy he’ll take you there.

Like before if you cook/want to you sometimes make Price cookies if your bored and he’s busy. It makes his day.

If you feel like you haven’t shown Price enough love to Price you’ll give him kisses on the cheek and forehead and tell him you love him. He’ll kiss you back and tell you the same.

You like when Price teaches or tell you facts that he knows that will make you happy or make your day.

Alejandro

Feel like he loves it. He loves you and your childlike personality. He cherishes you and he makes it clear how much he loves you for you.

He loves how affectionate you are and he will be just as affectionate you are towards him. You both show it in different ways.

He definitely likes how loud you are. Feel like he hypes you up to be confident and loud. Because he will join you in being loud.

When it comes to your interests he’s all for it. Want to do those interest together? he’ll do it. Want to buy things for it? He’ll order it or you both can spent the day out and look around.

Love talking? Especially if you want to learn new languages? He’ll teach you Spanish. Then you both try to learn another language but it usually ends up in loud laughter as you find it funny how he’s trying to learn another language while you can still hear the strong Spanish accent with it. You don’t know why it’s funny but it is and he also finds it funny.

He loves how excited you get if you have been gifted a present or if he does a act of kindness for you. You especially love if he cooks for you cause he’s really good.

He usually lets you set up a date if you wanted as he knows whatever you pick you’ll both enjoy and have fun. Also because you’d get really focused on the task and you (might) enjoy planning fun things to do.

If you go on holidays you enjoy going out finding cool things to see or to eat at. You love taking pictures of anything you find interesting. Even if it’s a cute dog you found or a gift cat that is wondering around.

Rudy

At first he was intrigued how energetic you are and how loud you could be. Not that he didn’t like it he actually fell for you once he got to know you more.

He asks what your interests are so he can keep in mind and to make sure he gets to know what it’s about.

Loves how affectionate you are and can be. He loves to give you the same love and kindness back as he knows you like to be treated the same.

He loves giving you small trinkets from the places he’s been. He also takes nice photos of the area if he has time.

Loves giving and having hugs. You swear he’s one of the best people to have a hug from. You both hug each other when you fell like one is need or wanted.

Likes making cool ideas or challenges to do with each other either it’s you or him making those ideas. You both could one day see who makes the best pillow fort or who can make the best hot chocolate.

Loves cooking with you. You both learn and try to make new things. You both feel proud when you both make the food right without it burning or tasting bad.

Enjoys your company and you definitely enjoy his company. You can be wild and rambunctious while he happily watches you be you and he loves you can express yourself like that in front of him.

Hope you like it! Also feel free to ask for more things but know that it all won’t be out straight away. Have a good day/night! :)

#task force 141 #task force 141 x y/n #cod x reader #cod headcanons #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #alejandro x reader #rudy x reader #soap x reader #y/n mw2 #gaz mw2 #price mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #alejandro mw2 #rudy mw2

[jimblejamblewritings]

Our Violent Delights Will Not Have Violent Ends: The Twilight Saga Rewrite (Book 1, Twilight) | Part 1.

Summary: Y/N Swan is just like every other girl and she likes it that way. Normal is fantastic. Normal creates a functioning member of society. Normal is the reason she moved to a small town to live with her police officer father... only to find out that she gets the farthest thing from what she wanted. \\ This is a re-write of Twilight. Basically if I had been Stephenie Meyer and wrote Twilight. I will be combining some of the movie and book and the pace will be more like the movies. Not terribly high word count like the books. We might equal one book's word count when we finish doing all four of them. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Warnings for the Chapter: none

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader, Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: If there are "I" written anywhere in the story, please let me know. I'm posting this story on Wattpad in the I form so I might forget to erase one or two here. Enjoy being casted in the feature role of Bella Swan. Let's go:

A police car pulled up in front of you as you waited outside Seattle-Tacoma International. To think, only four months ago you were trying to purchase plane tickets for spring break. Only you wanted to go to New York with the rest of your classmates. The last place you were ever thinking of was Washington. The state, not even D.C. 

And more importantly not Forks, Washington. But you promised your mom that you could handle this. The only thing worse than that small town for the entire year was traveling so much you might as well be homeschooled. When your mom remarried her now husband, Phil, he played baseball for the Phoenix team.

Phil’s good but he wasn’t good enough to be traded around. You thought your whole life would be Arizona. Until Florida called. And your sweet stepfather and lovingly erratic mother packed up everything before suddenly remembering you had school. So moving to Forks had been a you decision but you're not sure how good of a decision that was. 

The car in front of you rolled down its window until you could see your dad. Charlie flashed a smile that you struggled to return. He’s great. You've spent every single summer with him and almost every one of those summers was in Forks.

But two months is a lot different from the entire school year. You knew only a few people that would be going to Forks High School. A pang hit your heart when you thought about your friends again. You guys promised to call but you'd probably fall out of each other’s lives anyway. But you tried to smile once more, putting your suitcases in the back of the police car and pulling on a thick wool sweater over your shirt and overalls. 

As soon as you slid into the passenger seat, it started to rain — a stark reminder that this wasn’t Phoenix. 

You could feel Charlie’s head keep turning to the side to look at you. Like your dad in more ways than one, the start to small talk was awkward for you. The two of you went back and forth in a silent dance until Charlie saved you from speaking about the weather. 

“Your hair has gotten longer.” 

You grabbed a piece of your now shoulder length hair. Two years ago, in the spur of the moment, you had shaved your head to start over. It was the moment after that you decided you would never do that again. Charlie had to suffer the period of you not being able to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like an egg. It took dedication but your hair was now long and damage free. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried to stop using heat completely. Except the blow dryer.” 

While starting small talk might have been difficult, once Charlie and you were talking no one could get you to stop. The conversation was still going as the car passed the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign that should have read population: too damn small instead of an actual number — and even when we got out of the car and into the house. Your room wasn’t terribly different from other summers but you noticed drawers and wardrobes that weren’t there before. You guessed when one permanently moves they suddenly need storage for their things. Charlie even cleared more bathroom space. 

That was probably the one thing you hated about this house. One bathroom. Someone should have slapped the architect that ever suggested this… and then slap the builder that followed through anyway. 

You only unpacked the bare essentials for the next week or so. The rest could be slowly unpacked as time went on. Charlie helped for a few hours before doing his shuffle he does whenever he’s uncomfortable. All he could say was okay before leaving the room.

Even though you two can talk for hours, he’s still awkward to his core. You supposed that you should be happy as a teenager that he doesn’t hover. He never has. You used to think it was because being a cop made him busy all the time and he just developed the habit. As the years went on, it became more apparent that it was just his personality. 

A car honk right outside the window caught your attention. You looked through the glass to see an orange pickup truck and some of the only two faces in town that were familiar to you. Your feet carried you out the door before you were even aware until you crashed right into a boy with hair longer than yours, roughly your height, and only a few months younger in age. 

“Woah, Y/N/N, slow down before you hurt yourself. You know you can't be trusted on your own two feet. I'm surprised you're still standing right now or is it just because I'm holding you up.” Jacob said as he gave you a smile. 

“Whatever, dick."

"Whoa, Y/F/N. Language when you're standing right in front of me," Dad interjected but he didn't look that offended.

"Sorry... Hi, Billy.” 

“Hi, Y/N. Glad you’re back and here to stay. Charlie wouldn’t shut up about it since you told him.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes. “Keep talking and I’ll roll that wheelchair right into the middle of the road.” 

“Not before I ram you in the ankles.” 

You and Jacob’s dads abandoned you to play fight in the road. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“I’m glad to see they’re still behaving like that.” 

“Oh, yeah. Days go by and nothing’s different. It's getting worse with old age actually, I'm convinced that's why Mom is always on business trips… So, do you like your present?” 

You turned to face Jacob. “Hmm?” 

He patted the truck just as your dads came back. Your eyes went wide and your lips twitched until they formed a large smile. 

“Are you serious? This is perfect! Dad, you didn’t have to get me a car.” 

Charlie shrugged. “I work late sometimes and thought that your personal autonomy was very important.” 

He’s trying to sound like a parent that actually read the child psychology books. The why he bought me a car didn’t matter. It was the fact that he just did. A truck didn’t exactly fit my aesthetic but something about vintage ones totally did.

"Don't worry, I worked on it myself. Everything's perfect," Jacob said.

"You did this? By yourself now? Jake, what the heck. That's crazy you're doing it on your own now. Why are you so amazing?"

Before anyone could actually answer you, you whipped open the door and sat inside. You remembered this truck very well from playing in it since you and Jake were four. Billy had this thing for at least seventeen years. The first thing you noticed were the new leather seats. They were pink instead of gray. The second thing you noticed was the engine’s sound. Smoother than it had ever sounded before. 

Jacob opened the passenger door, hopping in to show you how the car operated. He was a genius at fixing cars and trucks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he owned his own mechanic shop some day. 

“And that’s it.” He patted the steering wheel. “If anything breaks, let me know.” 

“Thank you! God, I’m so glad I have one recognizable face at school.” 

“You’ve only been missed two summers. Did you already forget I don’t go to Forks?” 

“Right.” 

Jake, like most of the Quileute kids, went to a high school on the reservation in La Push. People weren’t as judgmental when they all shared something common. There they could wear their hair long, tell folklore stories without getting made fun of, or try speaking little words here and there of Quileute so the language doesn’t die with their great grandparents.

All things you would have loved to be part of or just sit on the sidelines and observe. Maybe you should have complained to Charlie until you went there. Now you couldn’t leech off of Jacob and had to actually make friends on your own. Disgusting. 

Your sentiments didn’t change as you got in the truck and headed to school. You were assigned a parking space the moment you transferred. Unlucky you, you were stuck in the front parking lot.

So much for leaving to go get a better lunch than whatever grub they were going to serve at the cafeteria. Charlie worked too much to even think about asking him to get you something. And you couldn’t ask him to cook either. He’s not really shit at it. It's just his taste buds suck. So unless you wanted to text him a specific lunch menu each Sunday, it was Russian Roulette of lunch. That was too much work. Charlie thinks salami and grapes belong on the same piece of Nutella and butter toast. 

When you finally found the parking space, after three circles around, you turned off the engine and found a bunch of eyes greeting you. Lots of them. That’s what being the new kid in a small town gets a person. The eyes stopped staring once you got out of your truck — they needed a face to match the name Bella Swan. 

“Nice ride,” a black boy in a red hoodie said as he nodded at your car. 

“Thanks, just got it.” 

“Cool.” 

You didn’t exchange any other words before you entered the building. You stared at the paper schedule, trying to memorize classrooms and the stupid tiny map in the corner. An arm suddenly tapped your shoulder. 

“You’re Y/F/N Swan, right? Our new girl.” 

You turned to your right to see an Asian boy with a black polo shirt and the most emo haircut you've seen in a while. You took a double take at his outfit and then at the outfits of your peers around you. Suddenly, you were feeling terribly overdressed.

Your thrifted Burberry monogram poncho doubled as a blanket that you would inevitably need because it sat on top of a long sleeved black mini dress. Was it impractical for January in Washington? Probably. But fashion made everything work. At least you had worn snow boots. 

“Yeah. It’s just Y/N by the way.” 

“Just Y/N. Got it. Well, hi, I’m Eric and your eyes and ears of this place. Anything happens and I know about it. If you need a tour guide, shoulder to cry on, or lunch date then I’m your man.” 

Eric made conversation naturally, no small talk in sight. Kind of like Jacob. You chuckled. “I’ll take a rain check on the lunch date but I do need to find room 33C.” 

“Let me lead the way.” 

He started to lead you down the hallway and to a set of stairs. “So, why move to Forks?” 

“I’m not a baseball girl.” 

Eric snapped his fingers. “Perfect tagline for your spread. I’m the editor-in-chief of the paper and you are front page news.” 

“Oh… Just the front page right? I mean I don’t mind the paper but more than two pages and I’ll transfer.” 

“Got it. Spread killed, feature only. And here’s your stop.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

“I’ll be back for whatever other classes you need to find.” 

True to his word, Eric came back and led you to all my morning classes, including the dreaded P.E. You didn’t hate exercise. You just hated whatever wasn’t pilates or a Jane Fonda workout. Besides, you were never good at P.E. anyway. The testament to that was the gym teacher thinking you should do the volleyball exercises with some of the other girls. 

You flinched as the ball came towards you. It didn’t go back over the net. Instead, it hit my calculus desk partner, Mike Newton, in the back of the head. 

“Sorry!” you yelled as you sped away to hide in the locker room until lunch period. 

Mike seemed to forget about it when lunch came. He talked your ear off all the way into the cafeteria. You had forgotten that a small town wouldn’t be like Phoenix. Everyone wanted to talk to the new kid. Whether they were friends or not was yet to be determined. But Mike was a gentleman. He pulled out your seat for you. 

“Thank you.” 

“My pleasure, Madame.” 

Eric laughed. “Mikey, glad you met my girl Y/N.” 

“Oh, your girl?”

“Excuse me, my girl. We even bonded over cars,” The black boy from earlier rubbed your hair in fake affection before pulling the chair out from under Mike. 

“You’re so dead, Tyler!” he yelled as they ran after him. 

The two girls at your table gave a mix of a laugh and a scoff. A girl with a chunky pink headband slid over a juice carton from her tray. 

“Sorry about that. It’s like kindergarten all over again, isn’t it? You’re the shiny new toy. Hi, I’m Jessica by the way.” 

“Oh, almost forgot,” the other girl with glasses picks up a camera. “Smile!” 

The flash blinded me for a moment. “Woah.” 

“Sorry, I need some candids for the spread.” 

“The spread is dead, Angela,” Eric said in an oddly defensive tone. “Don’t bring it up again… I got your back, babe.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from your throat. Eric left, leaving you, Jessica, and Angela at the table. Angela set her camera down. 

“Great, now what am I supposed to do about filling up the rest of the newspaper? I can’t do another editorial on teen drinking. It’d be the third time.” 

“You could always run a psa on eating disorders,” you tried to offer an option. “Or um… padding on the swim team?” 

The other girls looked at you and for a moment you thought you said something completely wrong but they began laughing. You caught bits of the conversation as you focused on my food: some of the guys bragging about their sizes that seemed totally fake, speedos fitting improperly, and wondering if they only pad for school pictures. 

Going back to the conversation, a glimpse at the window caught your eye before you could speak. Five people walked like this school was a runway. 

“Who are they?” you asked. 

Jessica dropped her fork on her tray, ready to tell you everything. “The Cullens. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.”

The names were ones you couldn't remember hearing while visiting over the summers. They were either new kids or never came around La Push. One thing you couldn’t deny was that they were all attractive. And the shorter girl had wicked fashion sense. She strutted by like the rest of them in her thin and flowy white maxi skirt with a chunky black sweater and heels entirely too high for you to ever try wearing. You felt almost entranced just looking at them.

“They’re all like together,” Jessica continued. “Rosalie, the blonde one, yeah she’s with the big one, Emmett. Like a thing.”

“Jess, they’re not actually related,” Angela quickly interjected.

“Yeah I know, but it’s still kinda weird that they live together, don’t you think? Anyway, the small dark-haired girl Alice is with Jasper. He’s the one that always looks like he’s in pain. The two blondes are actually siblings, Mrs. Cullen’s niece and nephew or something like that.”

“Dr. Cullen’s like this foster dad matchmaker.”

“Maybe, he’ll adopt me,” Angela said.

You chuckled. If Dr. Cullen was such a matchmaker then you’d have to tell Charlie goodbye.

“What about him?” you motioned to the last guy left. He walked ahead of his foster siblings like he was the leader or something. 

“Edward? Totally hot, supposedly single. No one here seems good enough for him. Don’t waste your time. Like I care, just don’t waste your time.” 

“Trust me, wasn’t planning on it.” 

You knew that Jessica could have a skewed perspective. Maybe something happened between the two of them but Angela seemed to agree with her. This Edward probably was nothing but bad news and trouble.

You dared myself to look at their table again. Your eyes squinted when you saw their trays. Nothing looked touched. When you looked up, all five of them were staring at you. You whipped your head around and didn’t dare look back again until after lunch. 

Thankfully, the classes you had right after lunch didn’t have any of them… until bio class. The teacher, Mr. Donoghue motioned for you to sit at the only empty seat that happened to be next to Edward. You nodded and began moving to the chair. A chill ran down you spine and you shivered as the chill pierced your back. Edward stiffened up at the same time. 

You scowled as he held his hand over his mouth and nose. You had taken a shower, put on nice perfume, lotioned, and wore nice jewelry. There was absolutely no way you smelled. His hand stayed over the lower part of his face the entire class period. Even when he had to hand over material, he pushed them to you with a pencil. The moment the bell rang, Edward was gone. Good riddance. 

Mr. Donoghue signed the last spot in my slip saying you made it to class successfully and now you could give it to the receptionist. You paused in the doorway after seeing someone’s back but it was too late. The receptionist had seen you. 

“Just a moment, dear.” 

The person with the back turned around to reveal a troubled face. He grabbed his coat. “Never mind, I’ll just have to endure it.” 

You rolled your eyes, handed in you slip and went to your truck. Edward was a total douche. Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d be seeing each other more often than you’d like. Probably more often than he’d like as well. 

Charlie wasn’t finished working when school was over but had enough time for a dinner break. His friend, Waylan, brought takeout from Subway. You didn’t remember Waylan very well. He left for most of the summer each year to visit his kids and grandkids that left Washington. You all moved stuff around on Charlie’s desk to clear space so you could eat. You had a Spicy Italian sub while the two of them ate BLTs. The two of them shared a different sentiment about the Cullens when you asked them. 

Unlike the kids at school, they had nothing but praise. The Cullens weren’t weird but mature and well-rounded teenagers. And Dr. Cullen was the best surgeon they’ve had… and he stayed past one year which is an accomplishment. Certain jobs like doctors and lawyers always come from out of town. Most leave after one or two years, not able to handle the slow pace of this green and gray town. 

Soon, Charlie and Waylan talked in the most stereotypical old man fashion that you had actually checked out of the conversation. Your cellphone rang as you grabbed a potato chip from the small bag that came with your sandwich. 

“That’s Mom, I’m gonna take this.” 

“Tell your mom I said hi, Y/N/N.” 

You nodded as you walked away.  

~~

The next day at school, Edward wasn’t there. You had planned to confront him and find out what his problem was when he didn’t even know you. You weren't exactly popular back in Phoenix but no one had any issues with you. Never. 

However, his siblings were there. Not that you were going to approach them. Your problem was their brother not them and you weren't trying to make enemies in such a small town. You watched them walk into the building as you leaned against your truck. You turned when something hit your back. 

“Y/N!” 

You laughed as you looked at the Twizzler on the ground. “Seriously, Tyler? How dare you waste good food,” you said as you grabbed your bag and walked over to where the kids you met yesterday were all crowded around what you assumed was Tyler’s van. 

He shrugged. “I would hardly call Twizzlers the peak of fine dining.” 

We all walked inside at the start of a bell ringing. The day had been pleasant without your science partner. And the next day was the same when he didn’t show up again. And the next day until the entire week had gone by without Edward showing his face. 

Your first week of school was lucky. You had missed any torrential rain. But you couldn’t say the same for that Monday. The only thing worse than rain was rain when it was below freezing outside. Your front steps were covered in ice. Your phone rang as you closed the house door.

"Hey, Jake... First week done, somewhat a success. Hey, when is Spring Break for you guys? We should totally start coordinating now if we want to try and leave town."

Despite being careful as you talked, you must have stepped incorrectly because before you knew it, your butt had gone down the last three concrete steps leading away from your door and to your driveway. 

“Woah, woah, Y/N/N. Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he helped you up. 

“Yeah, just fine, Dad. Ice isn’t exactly helpful to the severely uncoordinated.” 

“That’s why I got new tires for you. The old ones were getting pretty bald.” 

“Thank you.” 

You both high-fived before getting into your respective cars and leaving. It felt like you were already used to the routine of Forks when you pulled into your parking spot and found yourself automatically going to Tyler’s van. You sat with Jessica, Angela, Eric, or Mike whenever you had class and swapped snacks with Tyler in between every morning class because your lockers were right next to each other. And the group always walked to lunch together. 

“Salad or Sandwich… Hello? Earth to Y/N?” 

You blinked to see Jess snapping her fingers in front of you. “Sorry.” 

“We wanted to know what you wanted? The lines are backing up so we’re splitting up and tackling stations.” 

“Nice, divide and conquer the cafeteria.” 

“The Vikings got nothing on us.” 

“As long as the only thing we’re conquering and pillaging are those sandwiches.” 

“Absolutely. They might have had great hair but I'm not interested. So, ham and cheese, turkey, or those stupid cucumber ones that no one likes?” 

“Hey, I like them!” 

Jess laughed and walked to her designated line. Mike and you were in charge of gathering everyone’s desserts and soups. Three wanted brownies and three wanted chocolate chip cookies, four wanted tomato soup and two wanted chicken noodle. You all wanted saltine crackers. Every now and then, you looked over your shoulder at what made you stop in you tracks. Edward was back. 

And your biology class was the first class after lunch.  

(part 2) ...

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

#twilight fic #twilight #bella swan #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x black!reader #edward cullen #jacob black x reader #wolf pack

[beeoftheanxieties]

So, @da-proti-toku-grem kind of inspired me to make a lengthy post, sharing some positive vibes across the fandom, listing the reasons why I love each member of Joker Out and why I would go full mom-mode on them and cook for them and bake them gluten-free cookies.

Anyway:

A Joker Out, brain-rot, appreciation post

(members listed in alphabetical order)

Bojan

First up - as someone who had the chance to see them live, he is an insane performer

His ability to enchant the crowd is insane and you can tell really well that he has great acting abilities too

Watched him in Gospod Profesor too, spot on for someone who is a so-called amateur

His singing voice is... amazing to say the least, it feels really unique

Also, the way he talks, the sound of his voice, the words he uses, his pronunciation, if there were awards for talking he would get one

The languages he speaks, I want to study him, linguistically, he is truly a phenomenon

We of course love a bilingual king

He looks like he has his priorities straight

I also respect him so much for how open he is about his mental illness

I might relate to him a bit too much at times whoops

And the fact that he can somehow befriend literally anyone??? Love that

His friendship with Jere is the main one of course

Oh yeah and the fact that he literally helped people who collapsed at their gigs a few times

Bless him, he deserves all the rest he is hopefully getting

Jan

First things first, I have a soft spot for math guys

And the way he talks about math is fascinating (but you still won't get me to like it Jan)

Cat dad???? We absolutely adore Igor and a man loving cats is such a green flag

I know people say he mumbles a bit and it's hard to understand him at times, but idk, he talks nice and slowly, so it's still really easy to understand him

He comes from my home region, so I am very biased haha

Also, every band needs a guitarist with luscious locks

He absolutely owns the colour red, that colour was invented specifically for him

The nose ring suits him so well too, this man KNOWS what fits him

And if that ends up being jackets with nothing underneath when he performs, THEN SO BE IT

I know people call Kris the lesbian icon, but from what I've seen lesbians are very drawn to Jan as well

Oh, and he gives me Klaus from the Umbrella Academy vibes (I blame the hair and the pink boa)

Jure

Holy shit, sunshine in human form????

The most underappreciated one in the band imo

His surname literally means 'cat' and I am so normal that Jan has called him 'muca'

He also comes from my region haha, bias again

He's really good at filming, he actually shot a few things for RTV (national TV station) and edited them as well, god, talent

Also playing drums... I have sang, I have played guitar, played bass, but drums is something I feel like I could NEVER do, so hats off to you

As @da-proti-toku-grem pointed out, THE MOLE ON HIS LIP? weak knees, yes

He also reminds me of a good friend of mine and I vibe with him so much, I feel like I would vibe with Jure as well

I really don't like the fact that drummers tend to get ignored and I just wish there was more Jure performing content

Though I love it how every time, during Novi Val, he comes to the front and hangs with the others

His hair also looks so soft and fluffy aaaaaa

Again, biased but he resembles my bf the most out of everyone so hmmmm

Kris

The baby of the band! (and the only one in the band I could actually call 'mulc')

In case you didn't know yet, he's half Dutch

And he speaks Dutch, which, as someone who speaks Dutch (in theory, not in practice) makes me really happy

I wish to study him linguistically as well

Also his parents' story feels very close to me, as I'm dating outside of my culture as well

According to him he was menace as a kid and I think we should normalise the fact that you can become a better person as you grow up

But pls don't honk at me on the road Kris, pls, I will cry

The songs he wrote??? NGVOT and Vse kar vem??? Oh boy, I love them, adore them

His holey sweaters are also a vibe

Dutch fans, if you don't shower him and the rest of the band with gifts at their Dutch concerts, I will be mad

Also gotta honorably mention Maks

They gotta be my fav nepo-but-not-really babies out there

Kinda like Maya Hawke?

I am ranting

He also looks like the only member of the band that I would fight, and idk why

Also, I must know if he supports Max Verstappen haha

Minus points for chemistry though, I cannot with that

Nace

Okay everyone

Here we go

We have reached my beloved

I love all of them, but Nace just a bit more

It was love at first sight, I cannot lie

I have a soft spot for bassists and he might actually convince me to try and play bass again

He has been playing it for so long too??? like wow

Oh and of course; THE TATTOOS, BLESSETH BE THE TATTOOS

I will always go feral about his tattoos

At every concert

I know he was the last to join the band but it looks like he fits in so nicely, it's beautiful

Strong mom-codded dad friend vibes

He kinda is the dad of the band haha

And he looks like he gives amazing hugs (lucky all of you who had managed to get one already)

A nice addition to the band

Oh and he's apparently shit at sports which is like... felt

Plus the fact that he wanted to be a vet?

Me too boo, me too, but neither of us is there now

Anway, I'll stop now. In conclusion, this band has my whole heart and they deserve every good thing that happens to them and so much more.

#joker out #nace jordan #jan peteh #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #kris gustin #bojan cvjeticanin #jure maček #jure macek #bee's rants #this probably makes me sound so delulu but I swear I am not #though i will admit #i have yet to have gone outside today #anyway let me know what y'all think about our boys

[llamagirl28]

A song I really think about when playing BOC is "Never Love an Anchor" by the crane wives. It's SUCH a good song, and it applies well when we look at Arthur as a character, specifically how he views and treats Mordred.

At the beginning of the song, the opening lines "On some level, I think I always understood/That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever" is such an Arthur thing to feel. Also applies to how Arthur handled the Mordred situation- his absence in Mordred's life, his adherence to Merlin's and Lance's stance on Mordred, his own conflicting feelings over his only child and their twisted conception.

He always claims that it was for the best, evident in the chapter 3 pov where we first meet him. Yet, over the course of the first few chapters, he realizes that he harmed more than he helped. He handled it the best he could given the circumstances (well, the best he thought he could) but ultimately, nothing went right. Arthur realizes, at first subconsciously, and then consciously, with full force. His handling of Mordred (or rather, Merlin's handling of Mordred, since iirc Merlin kind of influenced his thoughts about whatever presence he should have in Mordred's life) was clumsy.

The next few lines "And I tried to do the best that I could/ But try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to hold you" also cements this dynamic. Arthur is torn up inside about his avoidance of Mordred. He desperately wants to be a dad, but at the same time, is deeply ashamed of Mordred. Combined with the unacknowledged trauma of his r*pe..yeah, the line hits. He's trying his best, but he's held back by the shame and guilt of that night. It's present whether you have a good relationship or not, but far more evident if you are no contact with him.

Next stanza. "It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest/ With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful". Secret referring here to him being the father of Mordred, and up until chapter 4, how morgana r*ped him. Pretty easy to see the connection there. Though the line "with this heart of mine..." doesn't quite easily fit, since he is remorseful over abandoning Mordred, though I think it applies more to villainous mordreds/ those who act more like morgana than arthur. In the patreon side story featuring Alina (uhm, spoiler beware) there are a few options that remind Arthur of Morgana- when you smile like her, act sardonic, etc. He makes a point to say "every inch morgana's child" or something like that. He actively connects Mordred more with Morgana than with him in these instances. With these types of Mordred's, the line applies twofold- he is guilty of abandoning them, and remorseful...yet he sees Morgana so incredibly clearly in them, and he is wary. He remembers the prophecy, and, while not entirely sticking by it, still keeps it at the forefront of his thoughts in a way.

"There is love that doesn't have a place to rest/But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders" pretty easy to see the connection. The love Arthur has for Mordred is mixed with wariness, shame, and guilt, and mars whatever caring he has for them. Combined with how he rarely sees Mordred, it's hard for him to express that love, especially if you don't have contact with him. (Can you tell my Mordred's relationship with Arthur yet, lol). It's expressed, instead, to Gawain, up until chapter 3 and, probably if you choose not to communicate w him at all, way past chapter 3. He showers Gawain with love because he can't do the same to Mordred, but if he was able to, he would have done it with Mordred as well. He would've been a great dad, if only Morgana hadn't...yeah.

"On some level, I think I always understood /That a ship could never really love an anchor/So, I did the only thing that I could/And severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor" is an interesting lyric. There's a surface level meaning, but also a more conflicting one. If we apply it to Arthur it's him saying "hey, i couldn't be anything you needed me to be when you were growing up, and so i had to separate myself from you for both our sakes." It might not have been the right choice, but according to everyone around him, it was necessary, especially when you factor in the prophecy.

But. Ships need anchors, to ground them and keep them stable. Without an anchor, a ship will float adrift at sea, never to come to shore and go home. "A ship could never really love an anchor" seems more like his own guilt clouding his judgement when you have a bad relationship with him. "Of course Mordred could never truly love me. I'm an anchor and they're a ship." But ships need anchors Arthur. Mordred is bullied ruthlessly, Mordred has to deal with so many terrible things. Arthur could have been of use, could have been their anchor during this dark time. But he wasn't, because of past trauma and a prophecy hanging over his head.

A lyric that I heavily associate with a distant Chapter 4 Arthur is "There are times when I still wonder about you/ You are someone I have loved, but never known". Mordred has expressed a desire to keep Arthur out of their life, and Arthur respects that. He lives with his chosen family in Camelot, and does his everyday routines. But Mordred still invades his mind, especially around their birthday. "There are times when I still wonder about you" can basically go for the whole arthur pov in chapter 4, really, when he's thinking about Mordred's birthday. Also all the times early on in the story when he talks about wondering what Mordred was like. I for the life of me cannot remember since I've only done a route where I had a good relationship with Arthur like, once, but a scene like this doesn't really happen in chapter 4 for those playthroughs. No internal angsting over Mordred's b-day and their distance, no snake carving, no sadness over not being in contact with mordred. In the playthroughs where you have contact with him, he loves and knows you. In the playthroughs where u can barely stand him, he loves you, but he doesn't know you. He's never gotten the chance to know your hobbies, or your favorite colors, or whether you like your lessons or not. Mordred is sort of a question mark for him, an enigma between a nightmare and a dream.

"And you'll never see the reasons I had/ For keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you" goes more for pre-chapter 4 Mordred's, though it can work with Mordred's post chapter 4. Mordred doesn't know why Arthur doesn't speak to them, and as a result doesn't know the truth of their conception. They chalk it up to Arthur being a coward (at least in my run), a man so shackled to a sorcerer's prophecy that he can't look at Mordred truly as a child. Arthur is pretty sure Mordred is unaware of how they were truly made (after all, Morgana will never say she was wrong without any incentive) but he did think Mordred knew the prophecy. Now that he knows Mordred had no idea about it, he realizes Mordred has no base at all for why Arthur has no contact with him.

In some of the earlier asks, there were a few au questions. Two of them live in my brain rent free: an ask about what would have happened to Mordred had Morgana died during childbirth, and how would Arthur reach out to Mordred if he could still have children. Both of them indicate that Arthur would have been kind of a trash dad. In the one where Morgana dies, Arthur is forced to kind of take custody of Mordred, though he gives them over to Merlin to be a sorcerers apprentice. He's just as absent as he is early on in the game, only reaching out in later years, and more in an uncle fashion than in a father fashion. In the ask where he's able to have more kids, he seems to be a good dad to them, but in regards to Mordred, he only waits until they're in Camelot to attempt any type of reconciliation with them, and it seems as though he'd rather not have a relationship.

If Arthur was in Mordred's life in the early years, as a teen dad with sexual trauma, he would not have been good. He would have been distant and hesitant, and probably would have given them more daddy issues than they already can have in game. I think it's something mentioned by Acolon- love must be freely given, not forced.

"I am selfish, I am broken, I am cruel/ I am all the things they might have said to you" is peak Arthur Sad Hours. It's also, however, a very apt statement. These are things said to Mordred by well...everybody. They're viewed as a monster, evil through the sole purpose of being born to the wrong woman. The latter line connects what they say about Mordred to Arthur, acknowledging both the blood ties that bond them together, as well as saying that even though everyone thinks he's the hottest thing since sliced bread, he's a person too! He's not some saint whose kind and benevolent to everyone; he makes mistakes, he makes bad choices and can be (unknowingly) cruel to others, and in regards to the prophecy, is selfish under the guise of being selfless. He's not a perfect uwu will never do anything wrong EVER boy...he's just a person.

"Do you ever think of me and my two hands?/And wonder why they never soothed your fevers?/And wonder why they never tied your shoes?/And wonder why they never held you gently?" very easily brings to mind a scene of Arthur watching Kay or Lance play with their kids and wish he could do that with Mordred. Arthur, despite everything, does desperately wish to be a father, but he can't because of a curse and a prophecy, respectively. He can't (pardon my language) bring someone into this world because Morgana got rid of that ability, and he can't reach out to Mordred bc 1)trauma 2)prophecy and 3) he very much conforms to what other people want from him, even if it goes against his own wishes.

"And wonder why they never had the chance to lose you?" drives all of these ideas home. He never had the chance to be a proper father early in Mordred's life, and depending on ur playthrough, still doesn't have that chance. It's inhabited by Accolon (for now) and while he thinks that was the better option, he still yearns for that chance. He never had the chance to bond with them, to watch Mordred take their first steps and lose their baby teeth. He never got to read books to Mordred when they were sleepy, and never got to make absolutely horrid dad jokes while they grown in embarrassment. And he will never get to watch Mordred grow old (at least, in this point in the story). He'll never see them through the awkward stages of puberty, watch them rebel and yell at their parents some emo crap before going off to sulk. If you have a bad relationship with him, you only see him once more before you go to Camelot to join the Round Table, at Gareth's wedding. In the bad relationship route, this line is potent because nothing is fixed; their relationship is stilted. He will never get to see them in the Older Years, while in good relationship playthroughs, he can.

Sooo many of the Crane Wives songs are boc coded, tbh. Tongues and Teeth is THE morgana song, and The Moon Will Sing fit remorseful villain mordred's extremely well! I might do another one of these analysis's some time in the future, cause this was pretty fun. I might be off base on some points, so feel free to tell me if I got anything wrong. Now if you'll excuse me it's currently 4am, so I will be off to get some much needed sleep. Have a good one Llama!

It's a very good and thorough analysis! Thank you for sharing 💕 I'd be delighted to hear more, if and whenever you feel like doing another one.

And now I should go listen to the song itself. I only know a couple Crane Wives songs, which I love - Curses and Tongues and Teeth, and I do agree with the latter being very Morgana coded.

#the bastard of camelot #It's always such a joy to hear people's thoughts on the game #And find it stayed with them and occupies their mind