#fathers day fic

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[imtheiliad]

TEASE TIDBIT TUESDAY thank you @smallandalmosthonest for tagging me <3 here is a flashback from my father's day fic

Eddie’s first father’s day stateside, the first one he held his son in his arms, he felt less than adequate. His son crying and not being able to comfort him. It felt fruitless. But how else were either of them going to learn.  Eddie ached to learn, but was flying blind, no concrete example from his childhood to learn from. He had already tried that method of fatherhood, and it’s how he got here in the first place. So, he sat and held Christopher against his chest, humming a tune that is etched into his soul hoping that eventually Chris would calm. He doesn’t really even register when eventually the crying softens to a whimper and then quiets into steady breathing in time with steady rocking, Eddie’s own breath evening too.

tagging: @theyarnmaidstale @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @queerdiaz and anyone who wants to share i can't think of anyone else rn/ don't know who is actually here/ or anyone's urls

[ejzah]

A/N: Happy Father’s Day to all my US fathers out there and a happy Sunday to everyone else.

***

The Handprints of My Heart

When Kensi and Deeks first got together, she’d almost dreaded the holidays. She’d never been very good at gift giving or decorating and usually had to work through them. Five years into their marriage, and three kids later, she actually approached holidays with anticipation.

With that in mind, Kensi and Rosa had spent a good amount of time brainstorming Father’s Day presents for this year. After a lot of scrolling Amazon, Etsy, and craft sites—Rosa had given an admirable argument for getting Deeks a new puppy, but Kensi ultimately vetoed that suggestion—they had a nice collection of gift ideas.

Today, while Deeks went for his daily run, they were making Kensi’s favorite gift.

She’d picked up a large canvas and paints from the craft store for Rosa to decorate. She’d painted a large heart in the center and and the topic, the words “These Hands Hold Something Special, to the Most Loved Dad and Husband”. Surrounding the heart, the would stamp imprints of each other their hands.

It was admittedly a little cheesy, but Kensi thought Deeks would love the sentimental aspects. Not to mention, Caleb and Sophia’s six-month-old handprints preserved for eternity.

“Do you think we’ll have enough time to get it all done?” Rosa asked as she poured paint into little trays, pausing to turn and look for over her shoulder in Kensi’s direction.

Kensi adjusted her shirt, having just finished nursing Sophia. She set her on the carpet amidst a pile of soft blocks to play with Caleb.

“I think so,” Kensi decided, surveying their supplies.

“What if he comes back early?” Rosa worried at her thumbnail.

“He almost always runs for at least an and hour. And, just in case he should decide to come back early, I asked him to grab a couple things from the store. That should give us plenty of time to finish and stash it at Roberta’s.”

Nodding, Rosa scooped Caleb up, and held him over the table, placing one of his hands in a light blue paint.

“Ok, I’ve got he’s ready,” she said, holding Caleb’s arm out at an awkward angle so there was no chance for it to come in contact with the rest of his body or hers. “No, mijo, don’t grab the paint!

“Geeg!” Caleb said in protest, kicking his legs out as he made another grab for the tray of paint.

“No, you cannot cover yourself in paint,” Rosa told him with mock severity, and he giggled, grabbing a handful of her hair in his free fist. Shaking her head, Rosa carried him over to the large square of canvas on the table.

Kensi took his hand and carefully unfolded it. Somehow between the two of them, they managed to press it to the canvas without too much difficulty.

Down on the floor, Sophia made an inquiring sound, having scooted herself across the floor. She tugged insistently on Kensi’s pants.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be next,” Kensi told her, bending to caress her soft honey blonde curls before she turned her attention back to Rosa and Caleb. He was now attempting to taste his paint coated fingers . “Ok, quick do his other hand.”

They followed the same process three more times—Sophia did manage to smear blue paint through her hair. Once they’d thoroughly cleaned the twins’ hands, they each chose a different shade of blue for their own handprints.

When it was done, Kensi took a step back and surveyed the results critically. It had a definite handmade look to it and a few extra paint splatters thanks to Caleb’s efforts, but somehow that made it even better.

“It’s perfect,” she decided.

***

“Mm, this is the perfect day,” Deeks sighed, brushing his nose against Sophia’s soft cheek. She made a happy little sound, and grabbed at his beard with both hands. Not to be outdone by his sister, Caleb sank his little fingers into Deeks’ hair.

Kensi and Rosa watched from the loveseat with twin smiles as the three snuggled up on one chair together.

“You know, most dads would want to go golfing or ,I don’t know, a massage or something for Father’s Day’s,” she teased.

“What, and miss out on celebrating with my four favorite people?” Deeks asked. He made a dismissive sound. “This is way better.” He tweaked Caleb’s big toe. “Am I right, kiddo?” Caleb nodded seriously in response. “Thanks for everything today. Breakfast and lunch were delicious and those surfboards ornaments are going to good use.”

“Well, there’s one more thing,” Rosa said with a grin as she retrieved a large bag from behind the loveseat.

“Another gift?” Arching an eyebrow, Deeks accepted the bag, giving it a slight shake. “Do you have any idea what this is?” He addressed that question to the twins, who giggled, somehow managing to look mischievous.

Kensi leaned forward in anticipation as he shifted the babies to free his other arm, and started pulling out the many bunches of tissue paper she and Rosa had used to cushion their masterpiece. When Deeks pulled out the canvas, his brow furrowed for a second, then almost immediately softened, and he licked his lower lip, shaking his head slightly.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were suspiciously shiny.

“Kensi, Rosa, this is beautiful,” he murmured. “Come here.”

They came at him from either side, enveloping him in a hug.

“I know it’s a little silly,” Kensi apologized, when they pulled back.

“No.” He laughed, rubbing at his eyes. “No, this is perfect. It’s going straight in my office. I love it. Thank you.”

“Happy Father’s Day,” Rosa said, kissing his temple. “From all of us.”

***

A/N: Enjoy the fluff!

[doesephs]

aftg fans may disagree on this one but kevin day and his most beautiful daughter ever

[benevolenterrancy]

Mobei-Jun getting abandoned in the human realm by his favourite uncle and being left alone and terrified?? baby???? gonna lie awake thinking about him and Shang Qinghua meeting as children

[koalasmashedoneucalyptus]

This has been sitting in my drafts

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Father's Day

Was going to post this for the steddie microfic June prompt, but decided it's probably not Steddie-centric. Still sticking to the reqs though, just for fun!

prompt: "stuff" || wc: 483 || rated: G || cw: none

~~~

Everyone knows Steve’s house is free reign for hangouts, yet the Party’s collectively designated Sundays as alone time for the new couple. So it’s a bit of a surprise that someone’s knocking. 

The fact someone’s knocking at all is weird.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie shouts from the living room, ���can you grab that? I think someone’s here.”

Steve opens the door to find Dustin and Max looking slightly shy, if he had to put his finger on it. Odd, especially for them. They’re holding gift bags filled with colorful tissue paper, Max’s blue and Dustin’s red.

Before Steve can invite them in, they surge past him towards the living room. So not too far off from normal, he thinks.

He trails after them and finds Eddie right where he left him– sitting on the floor, surrounded by DnD books and a notebook perched in his lap.

“Babe, what are the sheepies doing here? It’s Sunday,” Eddie asks. He’s smiling up at them, despite the interruption.

Of course they’re happy to see the kids– always are, always will be– but only these two could get away with showing up on Eddie and Steve day.

“We brought you something,” Max says, thrusting the gift into Steve’s arms. Dustin drops his onto Eddie’s lap, scattering his loose notes.

Curious, Steve looks to catch Eddie’s expression to find him already tearing into the gift. Steve sets his on the coffee table and digs out the colorful paper.

Inside he finds a plain, white coffee mug, except it’s been hand-painted with colorful paint pens. On it he finds a basketball, baseball, and a crudely drawn version of his beloved beemer. But on the front, the word “Dingus” is written in Max’s bubble font underneath a bloody version of his nail bat. 

His eyes sting with warmth, and he looks up at Max, whose cheeks are flushed red. Steve finds Eddie holding a similar mug covered in what he assumes are DnD monsters, along with some dice, and his precious Warlock on the front with “Metalhead” underneath.

“What is this,” Steve asks, choking on the lump lodged in his throat.

“It’s all stuff you like,” Max replies, pointing at the mug, choosing the easy answer instead of the real one.

”No– why?” Steve feels like he can’t breathe, his eyes almost full, and his heart racing.

“It’s Father’s Day,” Dustin says, sniffling and wringing his hat in his hands “and me and Max, you know, we don’t–”

“You guys taught us how to play basketball, so we could practice with Lucas,” Max interrupts. “And how to play guitar. And all of the Upside-Down stuff. You’re always here.”

Steve wraps Max up in his arms, dragging her to the ground next to Dustin similarly draped over Eddie. It’s not the six little nuggets Steve asked for.

But these kids– their kids– are so much more than he ever could’ve hoped for.

~~~

To everyone out there who doesn't have a father, your father is absolute shit, or you mom was both parents -- I hope you have as good a Sunday as possible.

[temeyes]

happy father's day to him!

[ghostbsuter]

The notification came not even a second ago, and it had him fly across the city just as fast.

Nightwing barely acknowledged the thrum of the Batmobil following closely behind, already on his way to west end of Gotham City.

"5 Assasins in view, more possibly hidden away. A child, around 11, leading them." Oracle's voice was clipped in the way Dick knew she didn't like this.

This screamed like a trap, why else would the League of Assassins be in Gotham of all places?

He lands on the roof, tense and gripping his escrima sticks tightly.

Batman is on his tail, taking over lead, and they are near the group of unwanted guests.

He sees Red Robin on the other roof, backup if needed.

The child clicks his tongue at the sight of them, shaking head with a grumble. "Danyal, Father has found us, we should get this over quickly."

The amount of shock and confusion he feels makes him wonder if it were a dream.

Another click of tongue but not from the child in front of them, no. It was another child re-appearing from the invisible spectrum.

His hand around the throat of a limp talon.

"I didn't think he would be so fast." The other child comments.

"As expected of father." The first child, green eyed and serious nods. Towards batman.

"Now, for the reason we are here."

He steps to the edge of the building, and Nightwing desperately wants to get him from it, clearing his throat.

"I, Damian al Ghul, heir to the demon's head, formally declare war on the Court of Owls." Damian's voice is loud, unforgiving and unrelenting. Eyes burning.

It almost made him miss the words he spoke.

"The League of Assassins has a claim to Gotham," the boy spits. "And i won't let some society take it from us."

The unnamed twin throws the limp talon from the edge with a grunt. "Take that as a warning!" He halfheartedly shouts after.

And so it began.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Marvel

how to return home by JBS_Forever

Flash Thompson is a good person, but not a great one, so when Peter Parker accidentally gets drunk at his house party, all he can do is say, “Shit.”

Or: the one where Flash is just trying to be a decent person and get a drunk Peter home. Peter, on the other hand, has different plans.

scandal of the century by joshriku

The headline reads:

STEAMY SEX TAPE BETWEEN MAGNETO AND PROFESSOR X LEAKED!

“All right,” Charles says. “I wouldn’t call it steamy, you know, that’s an exaggeration.”

“That is seriously not the point, Professor,” Jean answers.

(A sex tape is leaked. PR crisis ensues).

DC

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever

Jason's had a nagging suspicion that Bruce keeps stalker-esque levels of tabs on all the places he’s lived, so when Tim Drake shows up at his apartment door, it takes only a half second for Jason to level his gun directly at Tim's stupid face and to say, bored, “Give me one reason not to shoot you.”

Honestly, he knew Bruce had a problem, but sending a bat to his doorstep? This is just ridiculous.

Or: in a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party.

But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

racing on the thunder by merils

Fortunately or unfortunately, Clark Kent is kind of used to getting phone calls about his too-curious-for-her-own-good wife being held hostage somewhere. Superman usually handles it.

Conner Kent gets a phone call meant for Clark Kent, who is Superman, who is currently in space. Uh.... Have no fear, Superboy is here!

What could possibly go wrong?

Original Works

Halfway Home for Wayward Mages by hoebiwan

Part 24 of mage in a wolf pack (This whole series kills me)

He wouldn’t mind it if Lada collared him, if Khalida or Dimitri collared him, because none of them have forced him to hurt anyone, whether human or wolf. They mostly just want him to—

Live, Jaime. Live.

In which the wolves rescue Jaime, but he doesn't realize he's free.

the sin eater by whitegeraniums (puertoricansuperman)

Part 25 of mage in a wolf pack

Lada, alpha of the Hearthstone wolf pack, finds herself in possession of a captured, broken werewolf hunter.

ATLA

Keeping Ones Head Down by ApoplecticAtPeace

Part 3 of May You be Noticed by The Fire Lord

Bao lost his ability to walk when he was 19. Despite the prejudice of many Fire Nation citizens, he got a job as an accountant in the Royal palace, in the Department of Education. After 11 years of working quietly, keeping his head down and allowing his work to be claimed by others, he expected nothing to change when Fire Lord Zuko took the throne. He didn't expect the entire department to be reformed under the new Minister Shu-Lin, and Bao's overlooked position with it.

Clone Wars

Something in the heart beat like a drum by CombatBootsandDreams

Most Jedi only have to take three formal sexual education classes. Obi-Wan, in all their blessed biology has to take five.

Or: Obi-Wan growing up in a galaxy where Stewjoni are Succubi. This changes very little--but it does make certain things a hell of lot more interesting.

A Stewjoni are succubus au that has way less to do with sex, & is more about logistics, medical problems, and cuddling. Featuring Qui-Gon being an excellent master, codywan, aromantic Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan using he/they/she pronouns, and plenty of costume changes.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Father’s Day - Aftermath continued

There have been some… demands. Mainly relating to that hug a certain someone desperately needed after this and this so… your wish is my command (and you are all dreadful enablers - I was absolutely intending to clean the bathroom this eve but I wrote this instead)

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He didn’t hear them approach. Perhaps they had upped their combined stealth game or he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts. Either way the tentative “Scotty?” from Alan made him jump and some guilty impulse caused him to throw the card out of his hands and over the edge of the balcony.

A split second later, another impulse had him hopelessly grabbing for it and allowed a faint whine of distress to escape as it was caught by the swirling sea breeze and drifted towards the pool.

Alan and Gordon appeared at either side and they stood together in silence to watch its descent. Scott absolutely did not let out a sigh of relief as, at the last moment, some heaven-sent zephyr nudged it away from the water and underneath a sun lounger. He did not do that because he was going to burn it anyway and the pool might have saved him a job.

Gordon clearly failed to comprehend how Scott had been completely uninvested in the fate of the card and chuckled as he nudged his shoulder and said “We could have written you another one, Scoots.”

Scott’s grip tightened on the railing “No! You mustn’t! I mean it was sweet… thank you! But you shouldn’t… I didn’t… you can’t think…”

That thing about the words and the brothers again. He could sense them making eye contact behind his neck. Scott bit his tongue to halt the incoherent mess and took a deep breath to try again…

… which was immediately forced out of his lungs by the double envelopment of his rib cage. His intercostal muscles stood no chance against four well-developed arms with a point to make and no further words were possible, well chosen and coherent or otherwise.

“You DID and we CAN.” Gordon declared.

“We do!” Alan chipped in.

“But…” Scott wheezed.

“No buts.” Gordon growled.

“But…”

They squeezed tighter.

“Huuuuuhhhhhh… Need… breathe…”

The squeezing lessened marginally.

“Fine, but only if you don’t argue.”

“I… okok.”

The pressure was reduced enough for him to gasp in a decent breath, lift his arms and drop them around their shoulders to apply some crushing affection of his own. Some time passed, he wasn’t sure how much.

“I do love you both, you know that right?”

“Course we do!”

“You never let us doubt it, Scotty.”

“Oh… good. That’s good.”

He closed his eyes and savoured the moment for nearly a whole-moment-and-a-half before the guilt crept back in.

“I’m sorry guys, I…”

“Scott, don’t make me crush you again because I can and I will.”

“I don’t doubt it. Honestly though…” - he powered on through the brown-eyed glare from his left armpit because all of a sudden a little flare of hope had lit in his chest and refused to be quashed by common sense and he needed to know, needed to hear if it could possibly be true - “… you really think… I did ok?”

The Tinies lost their synchronisation then, as Alan yelled “YESSSS!” in Scott’s right ear and Gordon head butted his clavicle with a growled string of very military phrases disparaging his ability to understand the most basic of concepts.

Bruised and half-deafened, Scott allowed himself the smallest smile. He was mildly distracted by a faint clicking sound before Alan caught his attention again.

“The Bestest. That’s what it said, Scotty.”

“Allie, you do know that isn’t a word, right?”

“Meh, it’s word-adjacent. And hey, I’m 18 now, you don’t get to police my language anymore!”

Scott snorted “Try telling that to Grandma.”

There was some chuckling. Then he sighed “But it’s going to be better now he’s back.”

Gordon huffed then pulled back from the hug a little to frown at him.

“Yeah but you do understand that isn’t because it wasn’t good enough with you? Right?”

“But he’s DAD.”

Gordon seemed to be chewing on something so Scott ploughed on.

“Dad! Your actual Dad! Look, when he’s fully fit, you’ll know what I mean. It’s going to be way better, the way it was always supposed to be.”

Alan had gone a little stiff under his arm and was looking over at Gordon who cleared his throat and grabbed Scott’s hand where it still rested on his shoulder.

“Scott, I’m really glad you got your Dad back. And I’m thrilled that we got him back too. He’s amazing and we love him so much. But I think I speak for both of us…?” Gordon paused and looked at Alan who nodded vigorously “when I say it was always you. Even before… all the Guardian business… you were always there, dadding away like you weren’t just supposed to be our big bro. School stuff, swimming stuff, getting me out of trouble stuff…”

“You taught me to ride my bike and read me stories every night.” Alan gazed up at him with the very same eyes that had demanded just one more story, only the gleam in them was wiser and more determined now.

“Yeah, all that… The important stuff. We know he did his best but he was really busy and you were never too busy for us. Never. And we know how hard you tried when we were assholes and we knew you kept loving us and that’s the thing. Right, Al?”

“Yeah that’s the most important thing and you were definitely the bestest at that.”

Scott felt hot and cold and heavy and buoyant all at once. The words had now utterly failed him so he just held both little brothers as tightly as he could and hoped that would communicate what was needed.

“You’re having a hugging-Scott party and didn’t invite us?”

Virgil’s amused rumble from behind him gave barely a second’s warning before his much bigger little brother added his own muscle to the proceedings and pulled the little group back from the railings to allow John to slip in and cover Scott’s front. A beat, and then a slight grunt from the heavy lifter as Kayo leaped onto his back and wrapped her arms around Scott’s forehead.

Entirely smothered by siblings, his head light and his heart little more than a pulsating puddle of goop in his chest, the tiniest giggle escaped Scott. It looked back and beckoned to its little friends who fell over each other on their way to freedom and were eventually steamrollered by a full-throated cackle as pure intoxicating relief poured out of him.

He’d done ok.

💛💙❤️💛💙❤️💛💙❤️💛💙❤️💛💙❤️

Down on the pool deck, in the shadow of the balcony, a man leaned quietly on his cane and drank in the incomparably beautiful sound of his children laughing together.

Part 4

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington hadn’t talked to his dad in a year.

The last thing the two of them had talked had been after the earthquakes, across the room in the den; his dad barely stepped through the front entryway, and Steve’s back pressed against the back door. The house was messy but still standing, unlike Steve, who was broken and barely keeping himself upright. The only thing Richard Harrington had said to Steve was,

“I think it’s time to move on.” Which was his way of telling Steve they were selling the house and he should figure out his own arrangements. Steve hadn’t cared, though. Didn’t even look at him as he spoke. Instead, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered if it was some kind of metaphor.

He tried not to think too deeply about it.

It had been a year since then. There had been time to move on, as his dad said. There was no more Upside Down. There was no more worrying about the next move. Max and Eddie were healed. Everyone was back in Hawkins. Robin and Steve lived in a little house on Fifth while Robin took community courses. Eddie practically lived there, too, with the strange friendship bond that had grown between the three of them.

Eddie had argued once it was because their couch was comfier than his bed, but Steve liked to think it was because Eddie wanted to be close to them. To be close to him. Sometimes Steve thought about letting him stay in his bed together.

Time had not moved to that yet.

Everything seemed good. Despite Steve’s resentment towards Richard, and his reluctance to admit the man was right, sometimes it was good to let things go, break apart and move on. Though Steve was sure, this wasn’t exactly what Harrington Sr. meant.

Steve hadn’t talked to his father in over a year. And he didn’t really miss him. Sure, there were moments that passed when Steve would yearn for the small happy moments between them. Secret smiles at baseball games, lunch at his office, and him cheering Steve on at the one swim championship he managed to show up to.

But it always got mixed in with bigger, badder moments. Being left alone for months on end. The belittling. The missed graduation. The yelling. The slurs when he grew his hair out too long. The cold way he said to Steve,

“I think it’s time to move on.”

Like he had been breaking up with a high school sweetheart before leaving for college.

So Steve didn’t miss the man, not really. But in moments like these, in the back of the Byers-Hopper’s backyard at the Father’s Day BBQ, where all party members and parents alike gathered, Steve couldn’t help but ache.

Steve ached for something better than Richard Harrington.

It wasn’t because of parents who stuck around that made Steve’s stomach churn in jealousy, but the ones who decided to show up. It was the way Wayne threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and the cheers their beers to something probably ridiculous. The way Steve knew that man would crawl to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t technically his, but was nothing short of a son.

It was the way El and Hop manned the grill together. Him laughing at something El said, probably something ridiculous, and her smile back that could light up the sun. The way Steve knew that El wasn’t a replacement for the things Hop had lost, but instead an addition to his life he would choose over and over again.

Steve ached to be loved and care for because someone wanted to. Not because of obligation or by accident. Steve wanted to loved deliberately.

Steve sipped his beer instead of bringing down the celebration with his thoughts. Eddie caught Steve’s eye across the yard and gave him a megawatt smile. Steve couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

“Hey, Steve.” A shy voice said beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. Steve turned to find Dustin standing beside him, nearly up to his nose now with his recent growth spurt. Steve couldn’t help but miss when he was small and could throw him over his shoulder.

Steve was a little surprised to find him there. Dustin wasn’t one to speak small or shy. He liked to make his presence known (much like the lovable metal head he was staring down earlier).

“Hey bud, what’s up?”

Dustin looked around the two of them before answering. Everyone else was with their dads, or talking to one of the party members. Even Robin managed to wrangle her dad and Mr. Sinclair into a conversation about WWII. Dustin looked a little relieved everyone was doing their own thing.

“Okay so you know how like, everyone is celebrating their dad today? And mine isn’t here?”

Steve felt his stomach drop. Somehow in the midst of his self-pitying, he had forgotten that Dustin’s dad wasn’t around either. Didn’t even stick around long enough for his first words. “Yea, dude, I’m sorry this must suck for you.”

Dustin looked nervous. He shifted on his feet back and forth, as if he was trying to find a rhythm to calm himself down. “Yea, so that’s what I actually came over to talk to you about.”

“Yea, Dustin. Im here if you need to talk.”

Dustin seemed to finally be at ease and rolled his eyes at Steve. “No, asshole, I don’t need to talk. I haven’t thought about the dick in years, if I’m honest. I just, it’s something else. And you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I’m confused.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Steve laughed despite his protest. A year ago, stuff like that hurt Steve’s feelings. But now Steve knew it was all in good fun, that Dustin was kind of dick to everyone. And he knew that the joke wasn’t about his intelligence. It hadn’t been a long time, since Steve threatened to push him out of a moving vehicle last time. Steve was pretty sure it had to do with a particular conversation involving his feelings for more than women.

Only Dustin and Robin knew. She was overly supportive, and Dustin instantly made a joke. Both made Steve supported and safe.

The dumbasses.

“Not my fault this happens to you often.”

“Is there a point being made or are you here to just be a dick?” Steve questioned, laughing behind the lip of his beer.

Dustin fidgeted again before pulling something out his back pocket. “Just—promise not to laugh.”

Steve crossed his heart with a giggle before he took a folded white piece of paper out of Dustin’s hands.

Suddenly, Steve’s face got serious as he saw what was on the front.

A poorly drawn Steve with a nail baseball bat, with the title “Happy Father’s Day”.

Steve swallowed thickly before placing his beer on the ground and opening the card. There in Dustin’s chicken scratch, was a message.

Dear Steve,

Don’t be weird about this. Okay here it goes.

My dad wasn’t around a lot, big whoop. Big surprise. I honestly don’t care anymore. Don’t give me a look.

I honestly didn’t think I would really care about any of the dad stuff, didn’t feel like I was really missing out. My mom and her annoying love for cats has always been more than enough. But as time went by sometimes I thought maybe I would be better, I would be different if I had a dad. I see it with the rest of the party, how willingly or unwillingly they all reflect their dads. And how I don’t.

Sometimes I don’t feel like my whole self because if it. Thought maybe I would never really be a whole me because of it. That maybe the world was better off anyway because I know I am a lot.

But then I met you asshole.

I didn’t think I would like you, and more importantly I didn’t think you would like me. But suddenly we are battling worlds together, and you’re hanging out with me even outside the end of days, and I have a new best friend.

If I’m being honest I do see you more as a brother. Someone I look up to. But the more I think about it (again don’t be weird), I do see you as a dad some days. Although the hands on hips do scream mother hen, you’ve been a dad to me in the ways the asswipe who made someone as amazing as me hasn’t been.

You are brave, and funny and despite popular belief you are kind. One of the kindest people I know. You make me feel safe and loved, and give me rides despite me never giving you gas money. Some days I look in the mirror and see parts of you in me, and I feel proud.

Some days I look at you and hope that I can see the braveness and kindness in myself too. I don’t yet, but you make it feel possible.

I don’t need a sperm donor (thank you Robin for that one), I have the world’s okayest dad right here.

Love you brother, friend, dad.

Happy Father’s Day, from your fellow nerd,

Dustin <3

Steve was crying. He knew that. He knew he promised not to make it weird, but Steve couldn’t help it. The little shit got him right in the heart.

He couldn’t be blamed for scooping up Dustin in a hug. “I love you too, Dusty Buns.”

Dustin squeezed Steve tight, “You don’t get to call me that.” He grumbled, but Steve could feel his tshirt getting wet.

“As your father it is my right to get to call you embarrassing nick names.” Steve squeezed Dustin even tighter.

Dustin just laughed and pushed him away jokingly. They both wiped their eyes, but the smiles on their faces remained.

Steve thought about Richard at that moment again, about how he ached for someone to care. And maybe Steve would never get it, but he could be that someone for someone else. He could give that care, Dustin.

The little shit.

“Thank you Dustin.”

Dustin shook his head, his crooked smile remained. “Nah man, thank you.”

They both just stared at each other in comfortable silence before they were interrupted by a barking force.

“What are you two saps talking about?” Eddie slung his arms around the both of them, mouth spread wide in a grin. But then he noticed the tear tracks, and suddenly his face dropped.

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Steve shook his head fondly, “Nothing—“ He started, preparing to wave it off. But then Steve realized he couldn’t lie to Eddie. “—nothing bad. Happy tears. I promise.”

Eddie looked at Steve for a moment before nodding, giving his face a tight squeeze, and then dropping his hands. “Okay, Stevie, as long as their happy tears.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Dusting grumbled.

“Aweee Dusty, I could never forget you!!” Eddie threw himself at Dustin in a horrible attempt at a hug.

Dustin just pushed him off before rolling his eyes. Steve swore they were gonna get stuck one day.

“Whatever, man. Just make sure that you treat my dad right, or I’m going to have to make some tough calls.” Dustin stared down Eddie seriously before laughing evilly and walking away.

Steve wanted to freeze at Dustin’s implication, but Eddie looked adorably confused, so Steve didn’t feel too bad.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this new? Him just getting protective about this without explaining?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve looked down at the card again wistfully, before glancing back up at Eddie. Steve took one of Eddie’s hands and started to play with his rings. A blush bloomed across Eddie’s cheeks; Steve wanted to kiss him. Instead, he just said,

“Just think he’s trying to be a little like his dad.”

***

Dad’s are complicated, and family isn’t always blood. I hope you enjoyed my little Father’s Day contribution. I do headcannon Hopper as Steve’s father figure/replacement, and usually write it that way but this seemed like a fun opportunity to show how Steve is his own father figure for others.

He is a good egg.

Now with Father’s Day over, my birthday is in two weeks which is making me feel all sorts of things. So I’m distracting myself with steddie. Either way expect a lot of writing and updates soon.

[eywaseclipse]

Because fatherhood looks good on you Jake💙🥹

[madocactus]

It's 2003, and Allan Bravecog has a brilliant idea. He just needs to make it real.

It's Family Business!

A story about the Senior VP and his journey to fatherhood.

10k+ words from @madocactus

Illustrations by @cluniies

Custom HTML + CSS formatting

Sellbot HQ shenanigans

Read now on AO3

[elvensorceress]

fic: Father's Day

buck/eddie | 11K | rated: G | AO3

The breakfast tray has buttered waffles and syrup, scrambled eggs mixed with ham, onions, cheese, and peppers, a stack of bacon, a bowl of sliced strawberries tossed with blueberries and blackberries and peaches, a steamy cup of coffee that looks like it has cream and spices stirred into it. And a heart made of two chives curled around each other and resting on top of Eddie’s favorite way of eating eggs. 

He pushes himself up and leans against the headboard, and Chris isn’t here. But Buck is here. Even if Buck doesn’t belong to them. He’s still here. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says even if it’s still hoarse and doesn’t come out right. He means it. He’s just broken. And it’s harder to pretend that he isn’t broken. 

Has he ever been happy? Was it only ever pretending? Why does everything feel like faking, play acting, words that seem like they should be said, things that should be true, but nothing ever being true? Why is everything smoke and mirrors and losses and performing? 

Is anything about Eddie real?

Buck rests a hand on Eddie’s forearm. “Hey. I— I know— I know it’s not. I know. But. I’m here? I’m here and we’re going to have a fun day. Okay? You and me. We’re going to have fun.”

Eddie bites his lip and shoves it to the side of his face. “We are?”

Buck nods and smiles sweetly, beautifully even though it echoes the sorrow embedded in Eddie’s whole being. It’s in Buck, too. “Yeah. We are. I have a whole plan. You’ll see. But you’re going to need fuel. So, eat up.” 

Eddie breathes deeply, and he trusts Buck. With his life, his heart and soul, his everything. He picks up a fork and digs into their breakfast and they share everything down to the very last bite. 

~

With Chris in Texas, Eddie faces a sad Father's Day all alone until Buck shows up to celebrate and bring fun, love, and family.

(read on AO3)

[seiwas]

cw: happy tears and tickle fights, birthday celebrations and other things. unedited sawry. ‼️ FIC SPOILERS PAST THIS PORTION OF THE CONTENT WARNING ‼️ pregnancy.

.

hajime’s birthday this year is different.

you don’t celebrate on the day of, contrary to your tradition of keeping it free no matter what. instead, you decide on the weekend, taking time to prepare his gift while he’s out of town.

the sunday morning starts out slow, a late wake to his usual 5:00 a.m. runs. you shift beside him, turning to snuggle deeper into his hold.

you weren’t able to wait for him last night, any hour past midnight simply impossible for you to keep up with these days.

your breath puffs out in a long exhale, tickling his collarbone.

he pulls you closer when you move, tucking his nose into the crown of your head. it’s something you both do, you’ve noticed—breathing each other in the moment you return to one another.

the celebration today is not lost on you, but you take in these few silent moments with him for just a bit longer.

when he stirs, squeezing you tighter as he mumbles a low ‘morning’, you peer up to kiss his chin. he’s ticklish there, you know, especially when your lips catch on the bits of stubble grown a few days after he shaves.

it takes longer for you both to get out of bed because of that, a tickle fight ensuing as hajime sneakily crawls his fingers up your armpits, blowing raspberries at the spot right below your ears.

you slip into the bathroom that way—a little clumsy and a lot giggly. then you crouch low, opening the cabinet under the sink; hidden in it is your gift for him, a flat rectangle wrapped in kraft paper and a green bow.

it’s the first thing in your agenda today, you’ve decided, unable to wait until he receives it at the end of the day, like you’d originally planned.

hajime’s propped up against the headboard when you step back into your bedroom, blanket scrunched at his hip. you’re no fan of the season’s heat, but you thank god it’s summer, because at least, you’re met with the view of his exposed chest every morning.

he holds an arm out to welcome you back in, letting you rest your legs across his lap as he cradles your back.

“your gift,” you whisper, holding out the wrapped rectangle, “open it first. that’s the first thing on our agenda today.”

he chuckles, taking the soft rectangle from your hands while kissing your temple, “thanks, babe. you didn’t have to.”

you watch eagerly, tucking yourself into his side as you wrap an arm around his waist. he tears through the wrapper but sets aside the bow, knowing you like to recycle them when you have the chance.

hajime is a simple man, and at the sight of his favorite brand of socks, he lights up at the addition of one more to his already-full drawer of them.

he turns to you, about to pepper your face with a bunch of kisses but—

“check the hem, i got something done to it.” you giggle.

he looks confused for a moment before he turns them over, plain white save for the dark green letters running around its ankle garters.

there’s another reason you decided to celebrate his birthday this weekend, on the third sunday of june.

he deciphers the word, reading each letter: p-a-p-a, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain before he immediately whips his head to face you.

“you’re—?”

you nod.

there’s something indescribable in his eyes, emotion welling up as they gloss over dark olive green—it makes you want to cry, too.

damn all these hormones.

“happy birthday, papa.” you sniffle, smiling wide, “and happy father’s day.”

(after a whole lot of tears, and even more kissing, you show hajime the tests you took while he was away. he tells you you should have told him, that he would have come home, but you shake your head.

it’s well worth it, seeing his reaction to two things he can celebrate today.)