#how to use pancake swap

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[bangaveragewhitewine]

soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways. 

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents. 

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again. 

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser. 

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover. 

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him. 

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground. 

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora. 

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive. 

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around. 

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.  

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment. 

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists. 

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was. 

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city. 

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him. 

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches. 

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94. 

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it. 

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995. 

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her. 

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life. 

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield. 

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control. 

You did plenty of all three. 

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm. 

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier. 

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes. 

By the Fall of ���97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier. 

This morning, you wake first. 

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday.  Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully. 

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard. 

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing. 

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time… 

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired. 

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets. 

“Mm, needed to pee.” 

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well. 

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year. 

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting. 

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last. 

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise. 

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open. 

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish. 

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist. 

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her. 

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed. 

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for. 

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.” 

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!” 

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet. 

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed. 

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces. 

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles. 

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face. 

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm. 

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully. 

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal. 

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you. 

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair. 

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.” 

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?” 

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously. 

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon. 

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that. 

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?” 

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure. 

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly. 

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?” 

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?” 

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?” 

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.” 

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss. 

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw. 

“Love you. So much, babe.” 

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you). 

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth. 

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt. 

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course). 

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek. 

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick. 

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready. 

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom. 

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne. 

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine. 

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be. 

[daysofyellowroses]

cherry

carmen berzatto x reader | 2.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: smut, more smut & tooth-rotting cuteness

prompt was: Carmy doing something mad cheesy and cute for his girl on v-day like he tells her that he has to work on valentines just to surprise her with a super romantic evening like you get home and there’s nice music playing there’s heart confetti in the entry way leading to the dining room and a huge bouquet of roses and a cute teddy bear is on the table and he’s in the kitchen finishing up something looking straight out of a Michelin star menu and he’s like “ oh I bought you new comfy clothes and I got your favorite movie ready for us “ and there’s candles and champagne and you’re just over the moon happy bc he would just do it for his girl bc he wants her to be happy and feel loved and not just bc he wants his dick wet (even though I mean after all the effort he’s ofc getting a big reward) but I could see him totally not even caring about the sexual part and just wanting to worship his girl that day and appreciate how much love they share - as requested by the very lovely and extremely talented @thecapricunt1616 if you don't go check out their work then..you are missing out, go read the bear & his honey it is phenomenal 🌼

this is a valentine's themed story, and i may not be posting it on actual valentine's day but i am posting it on galentine's day which is, frankly, the superior day anyway 🌼

🐻

As much as you didn't really care about Valentine's Day, part of you was still a little disappointed when Carmy told you that he'd put himself down to work a late shift, having forgotten what day it would be. Nobody could swap with him and you accepted that it would just be a regular day.

It wasn't like you and Carm never had dates or didn't do romantic things for each other but..it would have been nice to spend the evening together, even just relaxing on the couch.

From the moment you woke up on the 14th, there was seemingly no escape from the fact that it was Valentine's Day. Every song on the radio was a love song, social media was already flooded with endless posts of love heart pancakes, it was a little much.

Then there was work. At first it was a little cute, the management had arranged for everyone to get a little rose, and there were a couple of boxes of fancy chocolates in the break room. But then there was a seemingly unending stream of couriers dropping off huge bouquets of flowers, giant teddies, endless cards. You were sure some of them had been sent by the recipients anyway, rolling your eyes as yet another excited shriek sounded.

It wasn't that you were jealous, it would actually be pretty mortifying to have to stand there while some random guy belted out a song or recited a horribly cheesy poem at you. It was more of a reminder that you were just having a normal day, you wouldn't get to go home and spend the evening with your boyfriend, feel immense love and happiness.

At the end of the day, you could barely breathe in the elevator, cramped in at the back, surrounded by teddies and flowers, the scent overwhelming. You looked up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and trying to tune out the chatter happening around you.

‘We actually got reservations at Ever’

‘We're spending the night at the Peninsula’

‘I definitely think he's gonna propose, I found a Tiffany brochure in the nightstand’

When you got to your car, you took a moment to enjoy the silence once you sat in before hooking your phone up to the speaker and blasting your least romantic playlist.

You stopped off at the nearest supermarket on the way home, picking up a bottle of wine, a frozen pizza and some already half-off heart shaped candies by the cash register. There were at least three men ahead of you in the line, all frantically checking their watches as they clutched slightly wilted bouquets and expensive cards.

By the time you got home all you wanted to do was sink into the bath with your bottle of wine, and forget about the day. You took your phone out as you left the car, sending a quick message to Carmy as you made your way into the building.

‘Hey babe, hope work is going okay. Love you ❤️’

You tucked your phone into your pocket before reaching into your bag for your keys, jostling the grocery bag in your other arm.

As soon as you opened the door you could sense something was happening, raising a brow as you heard music playing. The lights were on, dimmed low. You closed the door, looking down at the ground and turning slowly.

There were rose petals strewn across the floor in the shape of a heart, with more loose petals leading down to the living room. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you shook your head. Either you had a boyfriend who'd told you a white lie or a very romantic burglar had broken in.

You set the grocery bag down in the hall, taking off your coat and hanging it up before walking into the living room. You couldn't help but laugh with joy, placing your hand over your mouth as you found the biggest bouquet of roses you'd ever seen sitting on the middle of the coffee table.

Sitting on the couch was a stupidly large teddy bear, wearing Carm's beef t-shirt that was more often worn by you anyway. You walked over to the couch, smiling as you touched the teddy's soft head. You looked over your shoulder as you heard a familiar voice, finding your boyfriend leaning against the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Hey,” You grinned. “could've sworn you said you had to work tonight.”

“Well..about that,” Carm grinned, holding out his hand. “there's a chance I was lying.”

“Just a slim chance, is it?” You raised a brow with a smile, stepping closer and taking Carm's hand before he gently dragged you into the kitchen.

“So slim,” Carmy nodded, pulling you in for a kiss before you pulled back and took in the sight of the kitchen. The lights were dimmed low, candles dotted about on the counter and the table, a bottle of wine you knew was super expensive and two glasses waiting.

“Hope you don't mind.”

“I suppose I can forgive you,” You murmured softly, unable to stop smiling as you looked back at your boyfriend. “just this once. This is all..incredible, I can't believe you've done this.”

“I can be romantic when I want to be.” Carm winked at you, walking to the oven and slowly opening it.

You took a deep breath as you took everything in, your hand over your heart.

You wanted to tell Carm that he was always romantic, even when he didn't think he was. Like when he would bring home a dessert for you, when he would let you steal his clothes, dance with you in the kitchen after a long day, spend whole days wrapped around you when you just needed him to be there and couldn't go anywhere.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to do so much, but..you loved that he did. Yes, it was a slightly ridiculous made up day that had driven you crazy but when it was Carm making such an effort to treat you..it felt important and real.

“Oh, before I forget,”

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard Carm's voice, looking over to him.

“I know you said you didn't need it but..I got you that hoodie you wanted,” He smiled. “with the..letters and all that. It's in the bedroom.”

“I don't know what to say,” You smiled, tears starting to well in your eyes. “I..”

“Then don't say anything,” Carm shrugged with a grin. “Just enjoy.”

“That I can do.” You nodded, stepping closer to give him a kiss before heading to the bedroom, your heart achingly full.

Sitting on the floor by your bed was a pink gift bag, red tissue paper with white hearts placed on the top of it. You pictured Carm carefully arranging the paper, wanting it to be perfect.

You went to the bag, carefully moving the tissue paper and reaching inside it to pull out a ridiculously soft hoodie, tears starting to spill from your eyes. You had mentioned, weeks back, when you were laying on the couch with Carm one evening that you had seen a hoodie you liked, lifting your phone to show him. He'd asked if you were going to buy it and you said you'd think about, but it was a little too expensive.

And suddenly there it was, in your hands. You carefully laid it on the bed before going for a shower, laughing to yourself when you thought about how lucky you were, barely able to believe it. After your shower you put on your new hoodie, letting out a relaxed sigh at how soft it felt.

Once you were ready you went to the kitchen, just in time for Carm to hand you a plate and a glass of wine.

“It's just pasta,” He smiled, kissing your cheek. “Come on, I got the movie ready to go.”

You looked down to your plate, raising a brow. In theory it was just pasta, in reality it was a work of art.

“This is too beautiful to eat,” You grinned, looking over to Carm as he got his own plate. “But I'm willing to ignore that.”

As you walked into the living room, you laughed softly as you saw what was waiting on the screen, looking over to Carm.

“We don't have to watch it again.”

“I know, but we will,” He grinned. “It's your favorite.”

“You're my favorite, you softy.” You smiled, sitting down on the couch beside the teddy and resting your plate on your lap. Carm went to sit beside you, picking up the teddy and carefully setting it aside.

“Sorry buddy, she's all mine.”

After the most perfect dinner, you laid down on the couch, your head in Carm's lap as he trailed his fingers along your arm.

“I love you,” You murmured softly, turning to look up at your boyfriend. “kinda feels like I should tell you, getting that vibe today.”

“That's so funny, I got the same vibe,” Carm grinned, moving his hand to touch your cheek gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat up, gently touching Carm's cheek as you leaned in for a kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile against your lips.

After a while you found yourself sitting in Carm's lap, your hands gently moving through his hair, his hands under your hoodie and gently stroking your waist.

It was slow and intimate and perfect, but you could feel a growing need for more.

As if he could sense your rising desire, Carm pulled back and smiled as he touched your cheek, his eyes focused on you.

“We don't..we don't have to do anything, if you're not in the mood,” He murmured softly. “I'm having the time of my life just being in the same room as you.”

You could have cried. Cried because you knew he truly meant it. He never did anything for you because he expected something in return, never made you feel like you owed him something. Even on a day that basically forced couples into bed, you knew he wouldn't be upset or push you if you said no.

“Look at you,” You murmured with a grin, touching Carm's cheek. “you are so perfect it makes me worry that you're actually a psychopath. Luckily you're a chef so I don't have to worry too much about that.”

He laughed and kissed you deeply, your arms winding around his neck.

“I'm serious,” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. “just because it's a certain day it doesn't mean we need to do anything.”

“I know,” You grinned, pulling back and moving your hand to gently stroke Carm's hair. “but I would want to be with you no matter what day. And I haven't given you your gift yet.”

“Oh yeah?” Carm raised a brow, unable to hide the grin on his face. “What is it?”

“A surprise of course,” You teased, getting up from the couch, holding your hand out. “come with me and find out.”

He does.

You take him to the bedroom, after a couple of stops for one of you to pull the other in for a kiss.

You tell him to get on the bed, you stand at the end of it.

Despite the slight nerves, you relax when he smiles at you. Your leggings are slowly peeled off, your hoodie pulled away to leave you in a lingerie set that, judging by the way Carm's jaw fell open, was absolutely worth the money.

You give him a full view, turning around in a slow circle before crawling onto the bed and into his lap.

It's quite impressive how speechless he is, taking a moment before he surges forward and kisses you deeply.

His hands are everywhere, fingers digging into you in the most wonderful way. It doesn't take long for marks to bloom on your neck and chest, for you go be laid out on your back, panties tugged aside. He stops you when you go to peel them off, tells you how pretty they make you look .

He takes his time, tongue working you over slowly. You beg for more, he gives you more. His fingers stretch you so perfectly it's almost enough but not quite.

You see stars, breath catching in your throat as you cry out. He moves on top of you, you pull him in to taste yourself.

He's pushed onto his back, you graze your nails over his jeans, tell him to take it all off, slowly. He obliges, a deeper hunger growing in you as he reveals himself to you. Every time feels like the first time, fills you with desire.

Your hand grips his wrist as he goes to take off his shorts, you tell him you got it. His hand moves into your hair as you taste him, endless praise spills from his lips.

Your hands grip the sheets, your back arched as you moan louder than you ever thought possible. His hand moves along your back, his touch firm but full of love.

You lay side by side, hands reaching out to touch each other as your heads turn and eyes meet.

There are no words, but you both know what they are.

After a while you slip your hoodie back on, give Carm a wink as you leave the room.

As you sit between Carm's legs, his arms wrapped firmly around you as you look back and feed him a half-off chocolate, you think maybe this Valentine's Day thing isn't so bad after all.

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

things that remind me of the nerdy prudes

(because like two people reblogged this one i did forever ago for the losers and i forgot how fun these are)

grace:

getting veggie tales songs stuck in your head as an adult, knee socks, eating all your broccoli, sparkly butterfly clips, watching sunlight glint off a lake through the treeline, guinea pigs, friendship bracelets off a water bottle, being secretly glad when someone you don’t like turns out to be a bad person, a bunch of cellophane candy wrappers crinkling at the bottom of your purse, being a little too into archery at summer camp, pastel bible highlighters, banana pancakes, tying way too many ribbons around the advent wreath, leggings under dresses, daydreaming about how you’d escape if you ever got kidnapped, strawberry ice cream, roller skating with almost too much protective gear on, cloud gazing, obvious family secrets that everyone refuses to tell you, feeling weirdly guilty for ordering your steak rare, bringing too many swaps to girl scout camp so you can trade with everyone, asking a new friend for their email address, long denim skirts

steph:

really dry liquid lipstick you bought in your freshman year of high school but refuse to throw out, 24 hour diners, typing in all lowercase but never actually changing the setting in your phone, listening to music you hate but gaslighting yourself until you enjoy it, really dark purple nail polish that looks black, collecting crystals even though you don’t really believe in them, saying your team bella (but secretly being team jacob), getting mad your vape was confiscated at your high school graduation, one million rings, coffee ice cream, tinfoil in a microwave, exclusively wearing sports bras, shoplifting, pink monster, thinking cigarettes are really hot, never wearing a jacket even if your cold, penny boarding, drinking four loko, regretting four loko, refusing to put your hair up even when you really should, kuromi, half fallen down led lights, playing your mom’s old guitar, sour skittles

pete:

planetariums, being overly competitive at board games, ginger ale, using a chapstick until it runs out, really liking marshmallows, really liking hot chocolate, hating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, buying a bunch of cool notebooks and never using them, forever dm, pretending you didn’t find asdf movies as funny as you actually did, m&ms, freezing cold hands, hand-me-down sweaters, only ordering chicken fingers and french fries, being intrinsically trusted by cats, carrying a clarinet to school every day, skipping episodes of next gen if they don’t feature data, praying on the first day of school that your teachers didn’t have your older sibling, transition glasses lenses (that you absolutely regret), dry krave cereal, secretly finding most museums really boring, grow-your-own-geode science kits, wing tip tap shoes, messenger bags, only doing extracurriculars that look good on college applications

ruth:

your comfort gay newsies fanfiction from middle school, being jealous of your younger sibling, those phone cases with glitter and charms floating in water, team edward and team jacob, wishing you hadn’t quit dance, buying fun jewelry and never wearing it, being devastated your hair is too dark to dip dye in kool aid, sticky lip gloss, painting every nail a different color, self sabotage, crushed velvet scrunchies, the grease soundtrack, wanting to be a rockette when you grew up, never learning how to do make up, begging to do figure skating as a kid, begging to do beauty pageants as a kid, begging to do cheerleading as a kid, turquoise braces bands, sinclair gas stations, showing up to an audition that you didn’t realize had a dance call, dunkin’ donuts munchkins, squirrel girl comic books, one half of a best friend necklace you wore longer than you should have

richie:

trying to get the marble out of a ramune bottle, wearing big headphones 24/7 (even if they aren’t playing anything), staining your best friend’s bathtub blue with hair dye, sour patch kids, enamel pins, discord calls across like three different time zones, the charlie bone book series, getting in trouble for drawing in class, being the friend with a car but also being a terrible driver, a pokémon card binder, that one kid who was really, really good at cup stacking, wearing shorts in the middle of winter, thirty-nine minute long voice memos, being exceptional at claw machines, vocaloid songs, your pet parakeet hanging out on top of your head, that one vaguely traumatizing round of the pocky game from seventh grade, regularly broken duolingo streaks, getting in trouble for bringing a real katana to your freshman year halloween dance

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Pancakes|Felix

Felix enjoyed mornings.

He enjoyed how he would wake up and feel rested and refreshed. And how the tiredness from the previous day was gone and not a burden to him anymore.

He enjoyed walking into the kitchen and watching the sun shine through the small window above the kitchen sink. He loved how it would cause sparkles to float through the air. Even though he knew it was just sun illuminated dust.

He'd enjoy turning on the stove, and grabbing ingredients to make a wonderful breakfast from the cupboard. Sure, he'd realize that you guys were running out of flour and sugar, and that he'd probably have to stop by the store on the way back from work tonight, but he loved going to the store.

He enjoyed perfectly placing every single chocolate chip into his batter and mixing it all up, undoing the meticulous work he had just done.

He enjoyed how it only took a few minutes for those pancakes to be made and how he'd smile as he placed a plate in the microwave.

He'd start the coffee machine as he washed his favorite orange mug. A mug that used to have a design on it. It had since been rubbed off since he used the mug so much since you had given it to him.

He'd watch the steam come up from the coffee mug and then remember to grab the syrup from the fridge,

He'd delicately drizzle the maple sauce on his pancakes in thin and precise lines.

He'd be tempted to drizzle on more, but then remember he had to keep his physique in tact.

Once the coffee machine was done he'd pour a mug and add just one packet of sugar and a splash of cream.

Then he'd put the syrup in the fridge and swap it out for the orange juice, which he'd pour in a crystal clear cup.

He'd grab his fork and sit down at the small kitchen table.

He'd contemplate buying a bigger table so it would be easier when the guys came over.

Or it'd be easier when he had a family with you.

Then he'd clear the thought from his mind and listen to the birds as they sung their sweet serenade to the rising sun.

He'd slowly chew on his pancakes, and look towards the doorway leading out into the hallway.

His ears would perk up when he heard footsteps walk into the bathroom, and the sink turn on.

He'd smile as he waited for you to walk into the kitchen, sleep still snug in all the features of your face.

He'd laugh as he saw your adorable (yet understandably frustrating) frizzy hair. You'd walk with your eyes half closed, almost running into the table.

He enjoyed watching you take small little shuffles that couldn't even be considered steps towards the coffee machine, and how you'd chug back almost a half of a mug of just black coffee. Then you'd pour in your cream and sugar and top the cup off with the dark drink.

Then you'd find your plate of pancakes in the microwave and warm it up for twenty seconds, Not a second more. Not a second less.

He'd watch you pour a glass of orange juice and set it on the table.

He'd smile as you'd forget to put the carton back in the fridge when you went to grab the syrup.

Then he'd smile even bigger as he watched you pour syrup without any restraint.

Then you'd leave the syrup on the counter and sit down at the table.

He'd laugh quietly as your head nodded down.

He'd tease you later for falling asleep at the table while you'd retort with the answer that you were praying before your meal.

Felix would still be finishing his pancakes while you scarfed yours down, morning energy slowly filling you up.

After you both finished, you'd wash your plates together.

You'd go for your second cup of coffee as Felix was drying them and then Felix would go for his second cup of coffee.

You'd finally be awake enough to ask him if he slept well.

He'd smile as he responded as he always did. With a kiss to your nose and a yes.

And then you'd respond how you always did, with placing a kiss on his lips. Quick and chaste.

He'd have butterflies in his stomach every single time. And the smile plastered on his face was sure to be pointed out by Han or Hyunjin.

Like it always was.

Felix would be thinking about how great that kiss was (even if it was sweet and pure) all the way until he reached work.

He'd think about how great his morning was all the way until he reached home in the evenings.

And he'd fall asleep happily knowing it would happen again tomorrow.

Felix loved mornings.

Because they had you in it.

And well...

He really did love pancakes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reminder: Enhypen requests are still open/needed. I keep getting Skz but my requests are closed for them atm. All members of Enha/OT7 are open though :) the list will be dropping once I have all requests queued because I want write what you guys want not what I want :)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

[716chr]

Chihiro Natsuyaki SSR Story “Dazzling Dancing!” - Part 2

#ちぃとデートなうに使っていいよ

Location: HAMA Street

Chihiro: Haa~….. Those pancakes were a total delight, so fluffy and chewy~!

Kaede: For sure. The sauce wasn’t too sugary, but you can still taste the fruity flavor….

Chihiro: Yep, yep! The strawberry flavor is the perfect match for Turysuke. That cafe is totally worth a recommendation ☆

Chihiro: Thanks for sharin’ Stakichi’s pancake too

Chihiro: Gettin’ to eat both made Chii’s belly and heart so full of happiness~♪

Chihiro: Huh? Is that music coming from somewhere?

Kaede: There seems to be something going on over there….. Ah

Kaede: That boy is using the storefront windows’ glass as a mirror to practice his dancing

Chihiro: ……Somehow, that’s pretty nostalgic

Kaede: Nostalgic?

Chihiro: Yeah, yeah. This feels super nostalgic!

[Alternate Choice]

Kaede: That boy resembles you, Chihiro-kun

Chihiro: Eh, is that so?

Kaede: Yeah. It’s not about his appearance, but the way he’s carefully checking the choreography and the attention he gives to each of his movements

Chihiro: …..Mana-pii, ya got a sharp eye for details

Chihiro: You see, actually, when I was little, I used to practice dancing in front of stores’ windows in the city, just like that

TL Note: From this point onwards, Chihiro swapped over to using オレ so I’ll be using first person pronoun instead of third person pronoun like before

Chihiro: This is long before I even appeared on an audition show

Chihiro: No one taught me; I was practicing dancing alone, copying whatever I saw

Chihiro: “Quiet down!”, people would sometimes yell at me as they walked by, but I was too immersed in dancing that I didn’t pay any attention to that……

Kaede: Chihiro-kun….

Chihiro: W-Well, even though I practiced my ass off, I still got rejected from the audition show!

Boy in uniform: Sorry I’m late, I was on duty today!

Boy practicing dance: No worries. Let’s pick up from where we left off!

Girl in jersey: I’ve been practicing those steps on my own. Today’s gonna be the day I perfect it!

Chihiro: Ah….. That kid’s part of a dance group….

Kaede: (The boy who was dancing alone earlier looks much happier now…..)

Kaede: …..To me, that’s how Chihiro-kun looks like right now

Chihiro: Huh?

Kaede: Chihiro-kun, just now you talked about how you “used to have fun dancing”, as if it’s a thing of the past

Kaede: But aren’t you also having a great time dancing with everyone in Ev3ns right now?

Chihiro: Wh…. Wha…..!?

Kaede: …..Am I right?

Chihiro: …..Hnng. Yeah, it’s definitely… much more fun now

Chihiro: Brainstorming ideas for the fanmeets with Raitin, rehearsing songs with Kinyari….

Chihiro: And making progress with Tao-Tao, us gradually being able to do things we couldn’t do before; each one of them makes me really happy

Chihiro: Because I wouldn’t be able to make all of this a reality by myself

Chihiro: ——The reality of being an idol alongside everyone. And to Mana-pii who gave me that chance…. I couldn’t be more grateful

Chihiro: Seriously, I’m so done! I always end up spillin’ everything in front of Mana-pii!

Kaede: Ahaha, I’m all ears if you ever wanna talk, so feel free to tell me anything

Chihiro: Geez….. You shouldn’t say that so casually. It’s gonna make me wanna be all needy around you

Chihiro: Today was really fun. Can I invite you out like this again?

Chihiro: But next time the line might be real bad though….

Kaede: Absolutely. No matter how long the line is, as long as I’m with Chihiro-kun, it’ll always gonna be fun

Chihiro: ……Yeah!

Part 1 | Part 2

[magpiepills]

Misunderstood

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!resder

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Marcus has a bad day at work and needs you to help him feel better.

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, PIV, oral (f and m receiving) fingering, big dick Marcus, multiple orgasms, thumb sucking, cum eating, cum swapping, dirty talk, some degradation, use of a tie as a leash sort of?, alcohol consumption, pancakes, cardigans, NPR, idk what else man, this is not fluffy Marcus.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I’ve got no idea what happened here. I was up at 5 am writing Marcus Pike smut. I haven’t even seen the mentalist. Thanks to the magic sluts, home is where the whores are!

The door opened and closed with a familiar sound, but ushered in an energy that was foreign to the serene atmosphere of your apartment. “Fucking…art crime.” Marcus muttered, taking off his jacket as if it was responsible for his sour mood. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his once crisp white shirt, now wilted with sweat and the dirt of the day.

You dried the last plate and put it in its slot in the cabinet before going to greet your love.

Quiet, like you were approaching a deer, trying not to startle him, you sank onto the sofa beside where he slumped, jaw set and eyes boring into the middle distance.

“Marcus, I'm glad you’re home. I'm just about to start dinner. H-how was your day?” Your voice was soft and warm, meant to soothe, but it was a foolish question. The crease between his eyebrows was all you needed to see.

Thinking better than to press him, you went to the bar cart and poured a generous splash of whiskey.

“Hard day.” Was all he offered.

Finishing the glass in two gulps, Marcus handed the glass back to you, “more” he requested wordlessly. You obliged, another heavy pour and this time he drank it slowly, turning the glass in his hand to watch the light shift in the etched glass while you watched, eager to help him forget whatever had him wound so tight.

Of course no one saw what you saw. They saw his easy, affable manner, his smooth shaven jaw, his casual Friday cardigans, how he listened when people talked, how he laughed at dumb jokes, how he always refilled he coffee pot, and they saw all of these qualities, and they chalked them up as weakness.

They didn’t see how his eyes glowed dark, how his hand held firm in your hair, cracked against the round of your ass, didn’t hear him whispering into your ear all the methods he had thought of for ruining you while he waited for the coffee to brew in the break room.

Maybe they’d regard him with a bit more authority if they heard how commanding he could be when he sat his glass on the coffee table and told you to come suck it. Maybe if they saw how he slipped his tie over your head, wound it around his fist and tugged your face to the straining erection under his sensible slacks they’d take him a little more seriously. If they could just see him now.

Your knees burnt as they dug into the rug that sweet Marcus had carried up the stairs to your apartment for you. Your eyes watered as his cock filled your throat, nudging almost far enough to make you gag. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Breathe through your nose. Get it wet.” He eased his grip on the tie enough to let you move, making room to wrap your hand around his shaft and pump it while you hollowed your cheeks over the fat head of his cock, lips sliding smoothly over his foreskin, before you pulled it gently down and sucked in earnest. You wanted for all of his focus to be solely between his legs. You watched his eyes as he watched you spit on his cock, using your hand to spread it up and down his length while you licked his balls, cradling them on your tongue. You worked him steadily while his head fell back against the couch, eyes closed as he rocked his hips to meet your mouth. “Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Oh, baby. Suck it so good.” His hips rocked more urgently, his words slurred as he inched closer to his release and you eagerly waited to taste his cum. You’d let him film your mouth then show him how it covered your tongue, dripped down your chin before swallowing it down and pushing the drops that escape back into your mouth before you open, letting him see that you’ve gratefully swallowed every drop.

You don’t get to show him though, because he’s hooking his thick hungers back into the circle of fabric around your neck and pulling you off of him with a wet pop and a hiss. He smacks your cheek, more affection than sting, but you can feel how much he needs you to surrender to him. He’s in no mood for putting you in your place tonight. Keeping his fingers looped through the fabric he sits up straighter and watches as you rub your pussy with your hand under your dress, suddenly shy as he looms over you. Marcus watches a moment before he sighs and nods, as if finally understanding. “Sucking cock makes your pussy wet, hm? Can’t help but get on your knees and rub your pussy, huh, baby?” An image floats before his eyes, you on your knees, sucking him deep and hard while he watches you fuck yourself on that dildo he bought you, the one with the suction cup, the one he could stick on the mirror in the hallway so he could watch the way your pussy stretched and gripped the purple silicone, taking it and his cock at the same time. He files that thought away for next time, too far gone to fool with toys right now.

“Take all that off.” He gestures at you, tugging his own shirt over his head, hurriedly kicking his pants to the side, naked so he can feel your hot skin on his when he pulls you to the floor by his tie around your neck, the only thing you’ve left on. He lays you down between the couch and coffee table, a narrow space just big enough for the two of you. He likes how you’ll let him take you however he wants, wherever he wants. You’re a vessel for him to fill. Marcus takes a moment to smooth down the striped fabric of his tie, admiring the way it falls between your breasts. You try not to squirm, but you’re dripping for him, an achy throb in your cunt that only his cock can quell.

You love Marcus when he’s a gentle, tender lover. Love him when he brings home fresh bread from the best bakery, when he makes you pancakes while he listens to Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me on lazy Saturday mornings, when he holds your hand in museums, squeezing you as you lean your head on his shoulder, lost in the romance of the Baroques and the Rococos. You love him now as he pushes your knees up, grabbing your hand, showing you how he wants you to hold yourself open to him, giving him unfettered access to your puffy, slick cunt. Using his thumbs, he spreads you open, slips over your folds, teasing your clit with a roll of his digits, teases your entrance with them, pushing his thumb into you just one knuckle deep before dragging it back out to distribute more of your wetness, replacing it with his other thumb before repeating the motion, alternating thumbs, sliding up over your clit, faster and faster he moves, dripping saliva onto you to add to the squelching sounds. Winding your hips, you focus on your orgasm, just in reach when suddenly you’re being stretched further, two thumbs in your fluttering cunt, flat fingers against your clit making you cry out, body taut as your orgasm is pulled from you by the hands of the only man that owns you this way.

Before you can catch your breath, his hand is back on the tie, pulling you up to watch as he spears into you. He wishes he could go faster, he needs to be inside, but you’re so tight and his cock is so big he has to go slow. Wet thumb sliding around, over your clit and around his cock where he’s desperate to enter you, soothing the skin there with his touch, gentle despite his frenzy. You dare to look up and see him, snarling, mad with lust, teeth bared and chest heaving. “Fuck me Marcus. Please, daddy. Need your big cock so bad.” You whine. He doubles his efforts at your provocation, pushing in further, shallow thrusts becoming faster and deeper until he’s all the way in, head firmly pushed into your cervix and balls against your ass. There’s no air left in your lungs to ask him to please move already. Mercifully, he doesn’t wait long. He studies your face, your wet eyelashes, your mouth agape, cheeks and chest flushed pink, the face of a woman in need of a good fuck and he relents. He starts slowly, picking up speed, pulling out and slamming in and just the right angle to drag the coarse hair at the base of his cock over your swollen clit. It’s a lot. He sees it in your eyes, feels it in the way you squeeze his cock so tight. You’re close.

“You gonna come on daddy’s cock? Hm? You wait all day just for me to come home and fuck you like this? Treat you like a slut? Fuck you on the floor?” You try hard to answer him but all you can force out it a pathetic “yesyesyes!” As you squeeze your tits and pluck at your nipples the way he does, but not quite the same. It’s almost enough. Marcus can see that. He sees you right up against your second orgasm but unable to grasp it. He needs you to get there so he can follow you, Jack and Jill and the pail of water. He keeps his steady rhythm, holds his angle, and reaches to hold your cheek in his warm hand. He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down until you open your mouth for him to slide it in, letting you taste yourself on his skin when he presses it into your tongue. It’s enough. More than enough. Your legs shake and your legs tighten around his waist. Words and meaning are lost between you. “Fuck, baby. Oh fuck. Oh! Ohhhhhhh.” He whimpers as your orgasm milks him of his own, draining every drop of cum from him.

You collect yourselves slowly, arms around his neck, him settled over you, kissing your face, whispering his love, his tie still hanging loose around your neck. You scratch his back, kiss his shoulder, and tap his side to let you up, you stand on shaky legs, not quite ready for gravity. You wonder what to make for dinner, consider resorting to takeout so you can just eat in bed. You think aloud, expecting some input from Marcus, but instead he holds your hips and directs you onto the couch, positioning you with your knees at the edge and your elbows on the back cushion so he can kneel behind you. You gasp, “Marcus! Marc-!” But he pays you no mind. Just licks messy stripes through your sensitive pussy, tasting himself, tasting you, humming at the vulgarity of what he’s doing, teasing your clit to make you shiver and flinch. Satisfied at last, he eases you onto your back to kiss you deep, sharing your combined flavor before taking your hand and leading you to the shower. Dinner can wait.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Eighteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cuss words and angst, my bread and butter rn

Notes: I’m so sorry this is late tonight! I’m still reeling from Tuesday night’s Sleep Token concert… it was honestly life changing. I’ve been working on this chapter all day so I hope you like! I promise I’m trying to get through New Moon without dragging it out longer than necessary, I just need to set up certain things for… things👀

Word Count: 2383

Series Masterlist

• January 17th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Long, cold fingers trail across my cheekbones - featherlight and almost reverent in their exploration. Cool lips brush my hairline and I can feel the smile against my skin. A grin tilts the corner of my mouth and I roll over to push my face into the hard chest at my side to just get a few more moments of sleep.

But my face didn't meet his chest, I rolled right onto a cool pillow.

I flip back over and blink at the ceiling of my bedroom. The fan begins to swim as the familiar tickle of tears threatens to bubble over the corners of my eyes, it was a dream.

Sleep used to be the reprieve from these feelings, but he’s bleeding into my subconscious too. Fuck, is this just life from now on? Not only just pining after someone by day, but dreaming of him by night too?

“How was your night out, sweetheart?” My mom calls as she hears me descend the stairs.

The scent of bacon and pancakes wafts down the hallway and my stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“The movie kinda sucked, but I think everyone had fun.” I go for the vague answer, not wanting to scare her by trying to explain Bella’s theory-on-danger test.

“Oh? What movie did you see?” Her eyebrows pinch together as she tosses the question over her shoulder.

“The new one that just came out about zombies, it had jump scares and chase scenes that had me scared out of my mind the entire time. And after the movie, Jessica went on this rant about how it might have a double meaning for leprosy, I had to fight not to laugh.” Pouring two glasses of orange juice, I set the table as I explained.

“Dear Lord, I worry about that girl sometimes.” Dishing food onto my plate, she pauses. “I’m glad you had a good night out.”

I opt to shove food in my mouth instead of responding to her quiet comment. Halfway through my pancakes, the familiar crunch of gravel under old tires sounds from the driveway.

“Who-?” But I’m peaking through the blinds before she could finish the thought.

“It’s Bella Swan.” I glance at my mother with raised brows before dashing to the front door.

Swinging it open before her raised fist could knock, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh, I came by to see if you wanted to hang out at the Rez with me today? I’m going to see Jacob if you want to tag along.” She toes her shoe on the corner of our welcome mat as she digs her hands in her jacket, nervous.

“Of course, let me go change! You’re more than welcome to come in while you wait.” I dash up the stairs before she can answer, leaving the door open for her to walk in.

“Isabella Swan! I’m so happy to see you stop by dear!” I sigh as I hear my mom’s over-excited voice drift through the house.

I try to hurry and swap my sweats for jeans before my mom could drill her for more information about last night. I love the woman to death, but her middle name might as well be nosy.

Snagging my current read from my desk after tugging on my ratty pair of chucks, I rush back downstairs.

“Ready!” I call to Bella.

“Thanks for letting her hang with me, Mrs. Y/l/n.” I hear Bella tell my mom before escaping the kitchen.

“Anytime dear, you hardly even have to ask.” My mom winks at me from over Bella’s shoulder and I roll my eyes playfully in response as we head out of the front door.

“Be safe you two! Call if you need anything!” Shouting from the front porch with a smile and a wave, I return the wave once I’m settled in the old red truck.

Turning onto the road, I dive right into my curiosity, “Okay so what’s really going on today?”

“We’re actually going to the Rez, but it’s a surprise.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder to the bed of the truck.

Twisting, I notice something rather large covered with a tarp in the back. “And what is that?”

“Actually, what are those. And they were free, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel to some imaginary beat, I huff and face forwards again.

If I had to go by any indication of what happened last night, this surprise doesn’t bode well.

• Black residence, La Push Indian Reservation •

Reader

Climbing from the old red truck, a tall and tan guy comes running up to meet us. Well - Bella, if his eyes souly trained on her is any indication of his attention.

“Bella! Where the hell have you been loca?” I notice the wide grin on his face causes one to appear on Bella’s, interesting.

Looking over her shoulder after spinning her in a circle, this Jacob guy finally notices me, “And who is this?”

“Oh that’s Y/n Y/l/n, a friend from school. I hope you don’t mind I asked her to tag along?” She finishes sheepishly, but he shakes her concern away and extends a hand towards me.

“Jacob Black, nice to meet you.” He flashes me a much smaller smile as I accept his handshake and nod with a small smile of my own.

“I uh, also brought you something.” Pointing at the tarp-covered-mass in the bed of her truck before flicking up a corner to show us. “It’s a little crazy.”

My eyes widen as I take in the two dirt bikes.

“Wow, scrap metal. You shouldn’t have.” Jacob jokes, already sensing the train wreck this is about to be.

“I saved them from the junkyard.” Glancing between us to measure our looks, “I think they’ll probably cost more to fix than they’re worth, but then I thought that I’d I had a mechanic friend to help me out then-”

“Oh - me, being the mechanic-type friend?” A half-laugh slips out of him as he puts the puzzle pieces together.

“That’s right.”

“Since when are you into motorcycles?” His question takes me back to last night and I play with the drawstrings on my worn hoodie anxiously.

“Since now.” A pause as she assesses him, “I get it if you think this is really stupid. And reckless-”

“It’s completely stupid and reckless.” She visibly deflates at his confirmation.

“Bella, I’m not sure this is the best idea-” but he cuts me off before I finish.

“When do we start?” Both of us snap our eyes to his face, searching for the punchline.

“Um, now! Please?” Bella responds dazed.

“Alright.” Jacob immediately reaches for the first bike to unload our new projects.

“Oh hey, be careful those things are actually-” He lifts them as if they’re toys instead, “Really heavy. Jake, you’re like, buff. How did that happen, you’re like sixteen.”

“Age is just a number baby, what are you like forty now?”

Bella’s eyes immediately meet mine and my breath stutters for a second at the discussion of age, something the both of us are all too aware of.

“Feels like that sometimes.”

We both follow him into the garage around the side of his house as he pushes both bikes inside. Settling onto the old couch behind where Jacob works, I dive into my book while Bella watches him take everything apart.

Over the weekend, Bella drops me off and picks me up again to hang out while Jacob works away at the first bike. It’s comfortable, relaxing and enjoying their company without having to feel like I need to contribute, my presence being all that Bella wants from me.

Soft music drifts from his radio perched nearby, but Bella leans over to switch it off.

“This song's good, you don’t like it?”

“Um, I don’t really… like music anymore, kind of.” Bell’s confession causes me to reread the page I’m on, sadness spilling into my chest and distracting me from the words on the page, because I get it.

“Okay, no more music.” Jacob gets back to cranking on one particularly stubborn bolt and I meet Bella’s eyes over the top of my book, a knowing look passing between us.

We’re two sides of the same sad coin, no matter how you flip it, the outcome is always the same - hurt and anger and denial. There’s no winning anything tossing this coin - it’s the crusty penny that’s forgotten about on a sidewalk somewhere facing tails-up. Nobody wants it because it’s not bringing you good luck and there’s so few people in this world that are the type to stop and flip it over for the next person. That’s what it feels like, watching everyone pass us by as they live life, no one to stop and pick us up.

Except maybe for Jacob, for Bella at least. Meanwhile, I have him in my dreams.

Light knocking echos in the large space, “Yo Jake, you in there?” Two boys emerge from the slightly open door.

“It’s okay, it’s just my boys.” Jacob informs us as he sees us tense at the intrusion.

“Hey Jake.” They both greet their friend while observing us.

“Hey guys, this is Bella,” Directing a hand towards her and then me, “And this is Y/n.” Turning to look at us now, he points at the two newcomers, “That’s Quil and Embry.”

“I’m Quil Atera.” Nodding in our direction, trying to play it cool.

I cover my mouth to stifle a giggle at the obvious flirtation.

“So the bike building story is true?” Quil Atera asks.

“Oh yeah, I taught him everything he knows.” Another giggle threatens to burst at her mock-serious answer.

“What about the part where you’re his girlfriend?”

I immediately choke on my laughter at Bella’s surprise, girlfriend?

“Actually we’re friends.” Bella fires back and I cringe.

“Ooo-burn!” Embry teases.

“Actually, I remember I said she’s a girl and a friend.” Jacob says, trying to cover his blunder with his friends.

“Embry, do you remember him making that distinction?”

“Nope.” Embry pops the ‘p’ to exaggerate the embarrassment.

“So you guys have girlfriends, that’s awesome.”

Jacob immediately busts out laughing at her comeback, “Yeah right, Quil's actually taking his cousin to prom.”

“Oh ouch.” This time I jump in to acknowledge the burn.

“Yeah that’s still alright. You want funny, Black? I’ll give you funny!” Quil launches at Jacob and the two go at it like kids at recess trying to take each other to the ground in a play-fight.

Embry lumbers over to us and we take turns laughing and placing bets on the two rough-housers. It’s starting to feel normal, hanging out with other people again.

Just not the normal I wanted.

• January 17th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

A soft knock at my bedroom door raises my eyes from my book.

I wasn’t actually reading, it was more of a stare-and-daydream sort of thing. The words weren’t registering on the page, but her eyes were. They filled the gaps between sentences, her smile occupied the margins, her laugh drowned out the page turns.

It was useless trying to think of anything else, she was everywhere I looked. I didn’t have the option of sleep, but I know that wouldn’t be a reprieve either.

“Carlisle and I are going hunting, would you like to join us sweetheart?” Esme’s voice has always been kind and her emotions are even kinder. Patience, hopefulness, and the worst: love and understanding. Those two hurt the worst, understanding felt more like pity and the love? There was only one person’s love I wanted to feel, everyone else’s paled in comparison.

“I’m fine, not hungry.” If my gravely voice didn’t give my lie away, my black eyes certainly did.

Pain, sadness, pity-

Anger flares in my chest at the last one and I’m up from my chair in a flash, turning my gaze away from my adoptive mother and out my window. The split second of anger I felt towards Esme adds another speck of rot to the inside of my chest.

“I-I’m sorry hun, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Looking over my shoulder, but not quite meeting her eyes, “Enjoy your hunt with Carlisle.”

She’s gone half a second later, her light perfume drifts through my empty room and it makes me regret being short with her.

“The fuck is your deal?” Annoyance seeps from Rosalie in my doorway.

“The fuck is yours, Rose?” Long gone is the southern gentleman I was raised to be as I spin around.

“You. You and Edward. This sulk in my room and refuse to function bullshit!”

“What does it matter to you? You have Emmett, you have everything you want-”

“Stop right there.” Her tone was absolutely lethal and I know why. “You’re throwing her away and forcing everyone else to too-”

“You don’t get to lecture me on her-”

“I can and I will! It’s quite literally tearing this family apart!” Her slender finger pokes the middle of my chest and I temper the urge to snap it.

“Since when do you give a shit about this family?” I sneer back at her.

“I care about how this is eating at the sister I never had growing up. I give a shit about how this is killing the light in my husband’s eyes. I care about how it’s hurting Esme to see two of her sons struggling for no reason. And believe it or not, I care about you and Edward too.” She pauses, eyes flicking between mine, searching. “One fuck up-”

“It wasn’t just a fuck up!” I grip her upper arms and shake her lightly. “I could’ve killed her! I went fucking nuclear and with her there is no room for fuck ups!”

“You’re in love with her.” The realization surprises her.

“It’s more than that.” I drop the hold I have on her and begin pacing.

“Mates?” Now the real shock settles in on my sister.

I don’t stop pacing, letting my silence answer for me.

“Fuck.” Rose’s response is beginning to feel like a summary of my life now.

Next

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[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it pt. 13 [now complete!]

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11 Pt. 12

Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson.

They just don’t.

His entire life up until the age of 18 has been a series of unfortunate events only rarely interspersed with positive occurrences: Wayne. His guitar. DnD.

So he knows from the beginning of whatever the hell this thing is with Steve, that at some point the other shoe will drop. Because boys like Steve Harrington do not fall in love with boys like Eddie Munson. And if they do, it certainly doesn’t last.

So when, on an otherwise near euphoric Saturday morning, Steve’s parents unexpectedly arrive home, Eddie thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

Eddie realized early on that Steve’s parents were absent in a way that went past “absent” and veered into the territory of “neglect.” They show up once or twice a month for a few days, but thet’re never present in a way that parents should be for their child. The house is more of an item to check off a list than anything else––a place to call home in between travel, a place to keep the clothes they swap before departing again. Steve tries to play it off like he doesn’t care, like the empty magazine-pretty soulless house is a blessing––and it certainly has been recently considering the prefab walls of Wayne’s trailer do not prioritize privacy. But even if Steve genuinely doesn’t care now, no kid wants to be alone. 

Eddie thinks about a younger version of Steve. Sixteen. Fourteen. Twelve. Coming home to silence. No one asking about his day. Cooking himself dinner. Eating alone.

Steve had mentioned, offhand, that he used to have a nanny before he was too old to need one. Eddie hadn’t asked how old was too old for a caretaker. He was afraid the answer might break his heart. Because Steve tells stories sometimes that he thinks are funny. Stories about leaving the television on at night to trick himself into thinking someone else was there so he wouldn’t have nightmares. Stories about missing the bus and getting sick and learning how to do his laundry. They’re self-deprecating stories. Like it’s his fault he got lost when walking the four miles home from school because he had no one to call to pick him up. Like it’s his fault that his fever got so bad that he ended up sleeping naked on the cool tile of the kitchen floor because there was no Advil in the house and he was too sick to walk to the store. Like it was his fault he used too much detergent because no one had ever taught him otherwise.

Eddie takes those stories and tucks them away and thinks that, at least now, he can ensure Steve has someone. That he’ll never be stranded or sick or confused with no one to call for help again.

They do take  advantage of Steve’s parent’s absence. Eddie and Steve spend most Friday afternoons and weekends there, hosting the kids and their families: Steve cooking or Hopper and Wayne grilling, Eddie mostly getting in the way. And once summer break starts, they take turns staying at each other’s places. A couple days with Wayne, especially if there’s a sports game Steve and Wayne want to watch together, before a couple days at Steve’s house where they can feel free to…engage in their own athletic activities.

So. It’s a Saturday morning. After a slow, sweet, late-night Friday. The kind of Friday Eddie didn’t even know was possible, didn’t know he could hope for, until Steve came along.

They’re both in boxers and nothing else: Steve’s are covered in baseball bats—a gift from Max; Eddie’s are a plaid that is disconcertingly similar to the wallpaper in Steve’s room.

Eddie is sitting on the counter next to the bowl of batter Steve is dipping out of, trying to make pancake shapes and mostly failing. Eddie had done the first batch, which were nearly all dick-shaped, before Steve decided he should take over.

So now there are hearts and lopsided stars on the griddle being carefully monitored by Steve while Eddie has his battle jacket in his lap, finishing the final stitches on the back panel.

And while Steve pokes at the pancakes, Eddie is trying to convince Steve to re-join the basketball team.

This is what love has done to him.

“I don’t understand,” Steve is pouting. “You want me to quit Hellfire?”

“No, I’m saying that we can move Hellfire to a different night next year so you can do your sportsball shit and DnD.”

Eddie, unsurprisingly, is having to retake his senior year. He’s not that upset about it considering that means he’ll be graduating with his boyfriend. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley’s sudden determination that he graduate with good grades is a little concerning, but there are worse things in the world than being cared about by nerds.

“The basketball guys are all assholes,” Steve argues, hands on his hips. He looks like a dad at a soccer game, only more naked. It shouldn’t be hot. But Eddie has resigned himself to the fact that he finds Steve hot at all times, and distressingly so when he’s being bitchy or bossy, which are his default settings. 

“Yeah, but you’re better than most of them,” Eddie points out. “You’d be a shoe-in for captain. And if you aren’t on the team, Lucas said he probably won’t join when he gets to highschool. And,” the most important part, the part that Eddie really has had to come to terms with, “you love it. The way I love DnD. And I want you to do the things you love. Even if they’re with sweaty jocks. Who knows. Maybe you’ll even be a good influence and by the time Lucas gets there only half of them are assholes.”

Steve flips the pancakes. “You’d really move DnD for me?”

He’d do considerably more than that.

“Baby, I may not understand your freakish desire to participate in team sports but I’m not going to begrudge the joy it will bring you.”

Steve grins and it makes him look young. Lighter, somehow.

“What if I make new friends? What if I bring them to DnD? You sure you’re okay with sweaty jocks infiltrating your inner scrotum or whatever.”

“Inner sanctum,” Eddie corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s really not.”

Eddie is 85% sure Steve is fucking with him. He likes to lean into the dumb meathead stereotype, mostly, Eddie thinks, because people underestimate him, but now with the additional bonus that Steve knows it drives Eddie a little bit crazy. And Steve, for all of his excellent qualities, is a bit of bitch.

“That being said,” Eddie leers, “you can also infiltrate my inner––”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says. He pushes at one of Eddie’s knees so he can step between his legs. So he can drop a kiss to either side of his mouth before pushing further into his space, one hand on the back of his head, holding him steady when he brings their lips together.

“If it means so much to you, I’ll call the coach tomorrow,” Steve murmurs. “Summer training doesn’t start for a few more weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to get back in shape.”

“Ehn,” Eddie manages.

Steve looks pleased with himself when he steps back to the stove, stacking his finished stars and hearts untidily next to Eddie’s dicks.

He ladles out the final batch––circles, clearly their creativity has waned––as Eddie holds up the vest for a critical once-over.

“Done?” Steve asks.

“I think so.” Eddie holds it out accommodatingly. “I need to see it modeled to be certain.”

Steve discards the spatula and turns, feeding his arms through the sleeves. He tugs at the bottom with a considering pout.

“Well, give me a spin, pretty boy,” Eddie says.

Steve spins. He peacocks toward the patio doors and then back in what is probably supposed to be a mimicry of a runway walk but is mostly just ridiculous. He pauses, just before he’s in reach, and pretends to headbang over an air-guitar solo.

“What do you think?” He asks, shoving his hair out of his eyes and somehow managing to keep a straight face, “is it metal enough?”

“Except for the goddamn ABBA pin,” Eddie grouses, like he hadn’t been delighted when Steve gave it to him last week with a shit-eating grin.

Steve sways just close enough that Eddie can reach out and grab the lapels, reeling him back in. “Only one problem, though,” he sighs.

Steve’s expression immediately sobers. “What?”

“It looks too good on you. I might not want it back. Might just want you to wear it forever.”

Steve kisses him. “Joint custody?” He suggests.

“For an only child you are shockingly good at sharing,” Eddie agrees.

And then, the front door opens.

And a woman’s voice calls, “Steve?

And Steve’s hands, cupped around Eddie’s hips, go tight before he releases them and steps back. Away.

“Mom?” He answers, looking lost.

“Steve, honey, come help me with this,” she answers, backgrounded by a jingle of keys and the clack of roller-suitcase wheels.

Eddie slides down off the counter to his feet and then just––stands there. Half-naked and wide-eyed and with a well of despair quickly drowning the quiet happiness that had previously filled his chest. And he thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

There’s no making it up the stairs without passing through the front room. No way to get to the garage, either. He considers, briefly, just going out the back door, near-nudity be damned, but Steve must clock what he’s thinking and reaches out, grabbing his wrist.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispers.

Two weeks before, they’d driven out to the quarry, laid a quilt on the hood of the beemer, and shared a smoke and a series of lazy kisses while looking at the stars.

“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Steve had said contemplatively, his fingers moving aimlessly through Eddie’s hair. “But this happy bubble that we’re in isn’t going to last. We should probably talk about what happens when it…” he paused, brow furrowed adorably with the deep concentration of someone stoned. “...pops.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, not following.

“The kids and Hop and Wayne knowing about us and being so cool about it––that’s not how my parents will react, when they find out.”

“When,” Eddie repeated.

“They will,” Steve had said, half resigned, half something else. He says it with confidence, maybe. Or maybe even pride. “Because if we keep spending all this time together one of the neighbors will mention it to my mom, or someone will see us too close in the grocery store and tell my Dad. Or they’ll show up unannounced one day to find us skinny dipping in the pool. And I’m not going to stop spending time with you, so. It’ll happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeated, understanding.

“So when that happens,” Steve said, “do you want me to deny it? And we start being more careful. Or do I give them an honest answer and probably get disowned? Frankly I’d rather do the latter but I know the house is a perk. Not just for us but for the kids. For everyone.”

“You think your parents might get violent?” Eddie asked.

Steve’s fingers went still in his hair. “My dad, maybe. I can handle him, though. If I have to.”

Eddie hated the look on his face. 

“You’d be willing to give up the house and the money and everything?”

“Money won’t be an issue. The car’s title is in my name and I’ve been building a nice cushion in my savings account. Not planning to be cut off or anything but…”

“Just in case,” Eddie supplied.

“Just in case,” Steve agreed. “The problem is that it could cause a lot of trouble for you. And I’m not eighteen yet in this timeline, so getting an apartment or something would be––”

“I love trouble,” Eddie interrupted, crossing his fingers and holding them up, “Trouble and I are like this. And obviously you’d move in with us until the end of the school year. Of course you’d move in with us. We’ve got two bedrooms in the new place and Wayne thinks the sun shines out your ass and he doesn’t try to make me watch sports with him anymore when you’re around. You might have to cut down your hair routine in the mornings, though, if we’re all sharing a bathroom on school days.”

Steve had laughed and kissed him, which was the response Eddie was angling for, and they’d settled back to continue their star gazing and Eddie hadn’t thought about it much since except for occasionally at night, on the rare nights when he wasn’t with Steve. And even then he only thought about it abstractly. Living together for real. Waking up together every morning. Making breakfast. Getting to touch Steve whenever the whim hit him. It’s too soon. And they’re too young. And it would be a huge inconvenience at best and actively dangerous at worst if other people like his parents were to find out. 

But they’re careful when they’re in public. And Steve’s folks are never there and Eddie hadn’t thought––well he hadn’t been certain how serious Steve was, anyway, when they’d had that conversation.

Now, standing in the kitchen, listening to Steve’s mom enter the house, he can’t reconcile the question Steve’s now asking with the reality of the situation. Standing in the Harrington kitchen at the six-burner stove, surrounded by top-of-the-line appliances, while the water from the pool outside reflects sun through the double glass patio doors. No way Steve would give up all of this for––

“Eddie,” Steve whispers urgently.

“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “I meant it.” He did. He does.

“Then call Hopper,” he says lowly. “Get him over here. Just in case”

And then he’s walking confidently into the front room.

Eddie reaches for the phone.

“What,” Hopper snarls after the third ring. “It’s my day off.”

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie whispers. “Steve’s parents got back early and––”

Hopper's voice abruptly loses its sleepy fuzziness. “Are you safe?”

“They haven’t seen me yet. But they’re going to. And it’s––they’ll know. And Steve isn’t going to deny it.”

“Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hop.”

He hangs up the phone and, with one last, reluctant, look at the back porch doors, he walks around the corner into the front room.

Steve’s dad, wrestling a bag over the threshold, glances up at his entrance and goes still.

Steve, helping his mom collapse the handle of her suitcase, carefully moves to place himself between his father and Eddie.

Suddenly, all the little noises from before stop. Eddie watches as Robert Harrington’s attention moves from Steve’s inarguably defensive stance, to Eddie and Steve’s combined lack of clothing, to the riot of Steve’s hair and the red of his lips. From the tattoos on Eddie’s arms and his ribs to the mouth-shaped bruises that sit like a possessive necklace at the base of his throat. His gaze moves back to linger on the vest Steve is still wearing.

“Steven,” his father says.

“Dad,” Steve answers levelly. “I didn’t expect you for two more days.”

“Clearly. What’s happening here?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Steve says. “Because once I say it, I can’t take it back. Once I say it, we can’t pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” his mother starts with a flighty little laugh. “I don’t understand.”

Steve is still looking at his dad. 

“Steven,” Robert Harrington says.

“Ok, then,” Steve says. His voice is low and firm and devastatingly certain. “This is Eddie. My boyfriend.”

Steve’s mother sits, abruptly, on the couch, still clinging to her luggage.

“No,” Robert Harrington says.

Steve laughs, a huff of a thing with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving shake of his head. “I did give you the option of ignorance,” he says. “You didn’t take it.”

He glances behind him, meets Eddie's eyes with a crooked, if sad, grin, and nods toward the stairs. “You wanna grab your stuff? I think we’re probably going to be kicked out here in a minute.”

Eddie does not want to leave Steve alone, but Eddie also does not want to be nearly naked under the baleful gaze of Robert Harrington anymore. He gives Steve a look that is meant to convey ‘yell if you need me,’ and he goes upstairs.

It takes less than a minute for him to pull on his clothes from the night before and he laces his boots on the landing at the top of the stairs, ears straining to overhear the muffled conversation occuring downstairs. There’s a lot of swearing coming from Steve’s dad and maybe some restrained sobs coming from Steve’s mother but it doesn’t sound like Steve needs help. So Eddie shoves the rest of his stuff from the bathroom counter and the nightstand into his backpack and then pulls open Steve’s top dresser drawer to pick some clothes for him. One of his own shirts is front and center and it’s purely for expediency that he tosses it onto the bed, following it with a pair of jeans, socks, and a jacket.

And then––

Then he goes downstairs.

The voices are getting louder, not just due to proximity.

Eddie pauses, just for a moment as he descends the last few steps, assessing the situation. Steve’s dad is in Steve’s face, hissing something about disgust and embarrassment and Steve’s mother is crying about knowing they were leaving him alone too much which Eddie thinks is rich. He might be shit at school but even he knows that correlation doesn't equal causation. If neglectful parents were the only requirement for homosexuality, gay marriage would probably be legal and politicians opposing it would only have themselves to blame.

“I can make you a list of house stuff you’ll need to deal with,” Steve is saying with an aloofness that has to come from the few extra years he’s lived, tucked secretly behind his too-young face. “You’ll need to hire a pool company and lawn service, to start. And there’s a guy who’s coming to look at the gutters next Tuesday, so you’ll need to reschedule that since I’m assuming you aren’t staying that long.”

Eddie goes to the kitchen. He turns off the stove, bins the final, now blackened, batch of pancakes and loads up the rest––dicks, stars, hearts––into a tupperware. He tucks that into his bag, has a brief argument with the zipper, and then returns to the sitting room.

“The only place you’re going,” Steve’s father is snarling, “is someplace they can fix this.”

“That’s not one of the options I gave you,” Steve says patiently. “Either you let me stay and you get to keep pretending I’m whatever you want me to be, or I move out and I make it clear to anyone who asks that I don’t consider myself a Harrington anymore. Your choice.”

“There’s a place in California,” Steve’s dad says. “Harriet, where was it that Marge sent her son?”

Steve’s mom just continues to clutch her luggage and sob.

“We’ll sort it out on Monday,” he continues. “You can spend the summer there and be back before your junior year. And you––” he points at Eddie, you will leave and you will not associate with my son anymore. God knows what you’ve put in his head––”

“Senior year, dad,” Steve sighs. “I just finished my junior year. And I was the one that seduced Eddie. If that matters to you.”

“It’s true,” Eddie says, summoning a brashness he does not at all feel. “I was there.”

“Harriet,” Robert shouts. “Stop crying and go find the number of that place in California.”

“No point,” Steve says evenly. “I already said I won’t go.”

“You’re my son. You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

“No,” Steve repeats, like he’s talking to an obstinate child. “I’m not. And I won’t.”

“Yes you fucking will, or––”

The doorbell rings.

Everyone goes still for several seconds until it rings a second time, accompanied by a brusque knock. Steve’s dad mutters a string of expletives under his breath and goes to answer it.

It’s only when Eddie hears Hopper's voice saying, “Robert, I didn’t know you were in town,” that Eddie finally feels like he can take a full breath.

He thinks, absently, that his intense relief at the arrival of the chief of police is more than a little hilarious, considering the same chief of police has arrested him on more than one occasion. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though.

“We just got back,” Steve’s dad says. He’s only cracked the door enough to speak to Hopper, trying to shield Steve and Eddie from view.

“That’d explain it, then,” Hopper says. “The boys invited me over for some breakfast before we go on our weekend fishing trip.” He raises his voice, “Pancakes or waffles this morning, boys?”

“Pancakes,” Steve calls. 

“Fishing trip,” Robert Harrington says.

“A-yup,” Hopper says, hooking one thumb in his belt. “Steve said he was interested in learning and obviously Eddie volunteered to join.”

“Obviously,” Robert Harrington says. 

“Joined at the hip, those two,” Hopper continues. “Nice to see.”

“Is it.”

“Anyhow, are they about ready?”

“We need to finish packing a few things up,” Steve calls. “You want to come in and help? I don’t know what pants would be best.”

Hopper steps forward and Steve’s dad grudgingly opens the door enough to admit him.

“Good grief,” Hop says, taking in Steve’s appearance. “I should have known you wouldn’t be ready on time.” He casts a critical eye over Eddie. “At least you’re dressed. Come on, you two, let's go. We’re burning daylight.”

***

Twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of the trailer and Hopper parks his truck with two suitcases of Steve’s stuff in the bed next to Steve’s beemer. 

Before Eddie can get out of the car, before Hopper can even get the tailgate down on the truck, Steve is hugging Hopper with nearly the same desperation that he hugged Robin in the hallway all those months before.

He’d been so calm at his house, methodical as he packed his bags, reserved but steady as he drove them back to the park.

But now he’s got his arms wrapped around Hopper, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, head ducked, just enough, so Hopper can tuck Steve under his chin and hold him back. Now, he’s––he looks like a kid whose parents just confirmed their love had limits.

And Eddie aches for him.

He can’t help but think about Wayne’s careful, leading, assertions. His stories about his gay friend in Indy. His belief that people ought to live and let live. His enjoyment of queer musical artists and his constant, constant reminders that he would love Eddie no matter what. That his love was not transactional or conditional and that even if Eddie said he didn’t want it, he’d always have it. No matter what.

Eddie wishes, so much, that Steve had a Wayne.

Then again, he thinks, watching Hopper’s mouth move against Steve’s year, watching him holding Steve back just as tight, if Wayne has taught Eddie anything it’s that you get to choose your family, if you want. You’re not stuck with the ones you’re given. 

Wayne comes out the door, looking confused, and Steve wrenches himself away, busies himself with pulling out his bags while dragging the back of his arm across his eyes.

Hopper steps up to the porch and has barely said a dozen words to Wayne before Wayne stopping across the yard and pulling Steve into a hug too and––

Oh.

Eddie is going to need a moment.

“Hop,” Wayne says over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my boys back safe and sound.”

Eddie is not going to cry. He’s not. 

He might. Just a little.

“Sure,” Hopper says. “You let me know if they cause any trouble.”

For once, Eddie is pretty sure the “they” Hop is referring to is not, in fact, Steve and Eddie.

“Will do. You want to stay for breakfast?”

“We brought the pancakes with us,” Steve says wetly.

“I might stay for some pancakes,” Hopper muses. “What kind?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Blueberry. But fair warning, about half of them are dick-shaped.”

Hopper squints at him. “What other shape options are there?”

“Hearts and stars.”

“I’ll take stars,” he says.

“Hearts,” Wayne says.

“Done,” Eddie agrees.

He and Hopper each grab one of Steve’s bags from the truck and Wayne pulls away from Steve only so he can open the door. He keeps a hand on the back of Steve’s neck as he leads them inside and Eddie follows with so much love in his chest that he feels buoyant. 

“We’ll take care of it, kid,” Hopper murmurs behind him. “It’ll be okay.”

And Eddie believes him. 

***

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[suguwuus]

★ only you

i lied i went and rewrote another oneshot instead of doing my ocs teehee

wc: 2.4k words

contains: unspecified godly parent and mutual subtle pining

"I swear to the gods, Stoll, if you do that one more time, I'm going to drown you."

"Yeah?" Connor mocked, cocking his head to the side and grinning like he was about to push you underwater again. Both of you tread the seawater, chins just touching the cool surface. "And what are you going to do if I splash black dye on all your clothes?"

"I'm gonna change my style, move to the Hades cabin, and stay there," You replied stubbornly. "I can learn to get along with Nico and Hazel, anyway." You glanced toward the shallower part of the beach, where Percy was trying to get the di Angelo to learn how to swim. He was clinging to him and Jason like a scared cat, pale shaky limbs glistening in the sunlight.

"Have you forgotten that Hazel is Roman? Better get used to Will's sweet-talking!" Connor splashed water in your face, getting it up your nose.

"Shit—stop!" You coughed and swam closer to him, despite strands of hair uncomfortably sticking to your forehead and a dull ache in your nose. "Does he really talk like…like that around Nico?"

"No, but he stares a lot. Like he has a really obvious stare and stops doing everything just to stare." Connor glanced at Will, sitting ankle-deep at the shore, waves lapping at his shins. "Who knows, he might be imagining them swapping spit with each other—"

You hissed and clapped a hand over his mouth. He pushed your hand away and laughed. "He's so far. He can't hear us. RIGHT, WILL?"

The blond looked up and squinted in your direction. "Huh?" His voice was barely audible over the sloshing of the waves.

You shot Connor a glare. Then you felt a leg hook around yours. Before you could retort you were pulled beneath the surface again. You grabbed his shoulder and hauled yourself back up out of the water, grumbling and wiping the saltwater from your eyes.

"Fuck. You." You started to swim towards the shore, wading through the water.

"Hey, come back! I haven't had enough fun with you. Can we at least race?"

You called him over and waved your hand, getting an idea. You stopped after a few feet, looking down at the sea floor as your shirt billowed with the movement of the waves. Connor caught up to you. "What is it?"

"I think there's a watch there."

"A watch?"

"Yeah, there."

"I can't see it."

"Yeah, because you have to look closely, dumbass."

"There?"

"Yes, there."

"Is it a Rolex?"

"I don't know." You hoped he couldn't hear the smile in your voice. Then, while he had his head bent over the surface, trying to see what you were pointing at, you took the chance and shoved his head down, creating splashes as you did.

You laughed with satisfaction at getting him back as he coughed and spluttered. While he caught his bearings, you tried to continue swimming. But when Percy asked you a question, you stood still, letting your guard down. This gave Connor an opportunity to sneak up behind you and push you back down under the water by your shoulders, which of course, he did.

"Y/N, Connor's taking forever in the showers." Travis plopped down on the biggest hammock, the one you had taken the liberty of occupying. He threw you off balance and almost made you drop the pretty rock you had found.

Leo Valdez was splayed on another hammock with Piper McLean, making something with twigs and a soda can. "You think he drowned?"

Travis settled down and caused you to drop your rock. "He's not. He answered me when I called him."

You shook your head at the thought of your crush in the shower and frowned. "Why are you asking me about this?" Crush? Yes. Exactly. You found it a bit funny that you developed feelings for Connor, out of all people in camp, but once you looked past the rocks in your pillows and vinegar in your pancake syrup, he wasn't too bad. Then again, you had to endure the water up your nose to be around him as well.

You stuck your arm through the hammock and picked your rock off the soil. "We don't even have bathtubs at camp."

"You never know."

"What the Hades is that supposed to mean?"

For the next hour or two, your mind alternated between wandering off or going blank (and maybe Connor with wet hair). The others who went swimming joined you as well, either climbing the trees to talk with their friends more or laying on the hammocks. Others went back to their cabins. You lay there, soaking up the sun and feeling too lazy to even adjust yourself. You turned the rock over and over in your hand.

Clovis from the Hypnos cabin yawned. "It would be nice to take a nap. I'm tired..." His head drooped down and he snored.

At that, you felt more tempted to nap more than ever, but your doziness was interrupted by a shout.

"Guys!" Connor called. He ran towards your area at full speed. He could've stopped, but he tripped over a tree root. He straightened up, grinning and pushing curls out of his eyes.

You bit back a smirk, not sure if out of pettiness or endearment. "Did you find a serpent in the drain? Is that why it took you three hours?"

"No. Well, kind of. I was, um, I was taking a shower, obviously, and there was a worm. Anyway, we have a new camper! I couldn't find you guys," He pouted.

"Really? Who?" Travis asked. "Where from?"

"Uhm, California."

"Everyone's from California," Someone up in a nearby tree scoffed.

"She's a legacy from Camp Jupiter! Her parents are Greek, children of Nemesis and Demeter! And they actually got to survive past 25, with a house and all. Do you know how cool that is?!" Connor rambled.

Murmurs erupted. Very few adults were seen around Camp Half-Blood. It was even more rare to even hear of them living long enough to have children. You started wondering what it would be like to be a child of two demigods.

Connor jumped, is if an electric shock went through him. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Austen!"

Will had a half-brother named Austin. You looked at him with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, equally as clueless as you.

Connor disappeared again, but came back pulling a girl's hand along. She had shoulder length blonde hair and freckles sprinkled over her nose bridge, her face had strong features and she was dressed in a blouse with a cartoon character on it and jean shorts.

Leo snickered. "Imagine if this one's named Austen River."

You were too busy thinking about how Connor was acting with her. Or maybe you were a little weird for thinking he might have held her hand for a little too long, who knows?

He glanced shyly at her. "So...you're staying in the Hermes cabin for now, right?" He chuckled. "Sorry. We're sorted by godly parent here. Not sure where you're going to be put."

"Actually," Austen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear— "I was told I'll be staying in the Nemesis cabin." Connor's eager smile faded a little.

You spoke up, trying to ignore that last bit. "What's it like in New Rome?" You hoped your voice didn't sound as stiff as you felt.

Whatever she said about New Rome or Camp Jupiter or California or her demigod parents went into one of your ears and left through the other. Instead you had paid attention to how Connor would glance at her or how he laughed whenever she'd slip in a joke or two. He put his hands in his pockets and hooked his thumbs around the belt loops, which made you frown a bit. That was a nervous habit of his.

You felt a bit guilty for being so jealous. Did you often feel like this? Was it normal?

Sometime later, one of the people in our group jumped and yelped that it was almost time for Capture the Flag.

Austen looked down, mumbling something about how she had heard of it but never played or heard of how exactly to play it. Connor perked up, and offered to teach her, even to show her some tricks and spots.

That's alright. Like you gave a shit. Besides, that didn't hurt much. It only stung like a Hellhound's bite. In the ass. Through a tight pair of crispy scratchy jeans.

As if your day hadn't already turned sour enough, you had turned up with a sunburn from earlier at the beach.

You also would have said some more colorful insults and statements, but you felt like keeping it to yourself today. It was because you had seen Connor laughing with Austen with an arm over her shoulders. Your conscience told you that you shouldn't assume, but you snapped back at it, saying it was different when you had a crush. Besides, you knew Connor, and that boy was never that clingy on the first day of meeting someone. He never put his arm around people much, either.

The Fates must have felt particularly mischievous that day, too, because Connor and you had ended up on the same damn team in Capture the Flag. That might have sounded good, but what if he let Austen's team win?

You were left with him on the defensive, guarding the flag and standing on either side of the pole, facing away from each other.

"What do you think of Austen?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes while he couldn't see your face. Wow. No hi, hello, do you have any strategies in mind or anything. Just straight to Austen. Alright. "She's fine."

"Uh huh. Well, do—"

"Do you like her?" You blurted out. When you realized you said it out loud, you decided, fuck it, and faced him. He turned to you as well, looking surprised from what you could see of his face under his helmet.

"What?"

You looked down, mumbling so you wouldn't seem too upset. "Dude, you had an arm around her earlier. And...I saw you staring at her."

"Does that mean you always look at me as well?"

You immediately scowled, digging the sole of your shoe into the forest ground. "Shut up!" When he wouldn't look away from you, you frowned even deeper. That made a victorious smile start to bloom on his face.

He crossed his arms. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. Luckily for you, your mind reacted quickly. "I mean, if you like Austen so much I can go with your buddy Isaac. He has been dropping a lot of hints lately. Then you'll know I'm not jealous, right?"

"Isaac? Dropping hints? Wow. You really think he'd treat you better than I would?"

"What?"

"What?"

You gripped your weapon, feeling your palms get sweaty. Your eyes widened. "You tell me!"

Connor raised his hands in surrender. "Um...You first! Why are you being weird?"

"Why are you so clingy with Austen all of a sudden? Do you like her? It's been, like, 2 hours since she came here, Connor."

Connor took off his helmet. "I don't like her! Chiron told me to give her a tour! I was on my way here when she arrived." He laughed. What was so funny about this? This boy had a strange sense of humor.

"Then what about you going to the Big House with her?"

"Y/N, I twisted my ankle." He glanced down, and you followed his gaze to see some compression gauze around his left ankle peeking out from the collar lining of his dirty shoe. "And besides, I've only liked one person for...um, a long time."

Your expression softened. "Who?"

He took a deep breath, then pressed so hard on the hilt of his sword hanging at his hip, that his hand slipped. He put his thumbs through his pants' belt loops. "Um...please don't get mad..."

Why would you be mad? "It's you, Y/N. Only you. For a year or two." He laughed nervously. "Or more."

"Me?" You asked incredulously, jaw dropping. You felt a shock run through you, not believing what you just heard.

"No, the nymph over there."

A tall, slim girl with braided hair and skin tinted green appeared beside you, scowling. You nearly jumped out of your skin at that. "Don't drag me into your lovers' quarrel!" Then she disappeared into green mist.

You looked back at Connor. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm Connor."

"Connor, please."

"Yes! Yes, of course, you! It's been so damn long, Y/N! I've been scared that you wouldn't like me back, you know, but since you asked, I can't not say it, okay? I haven't crushed on anyone else in years, because of how your eyes look when you talk about something you like, or your smile, or the way you speak, and how clingy you can get without knowing it when you're tired because you want someone to lean on. You're the only one who's on my mind, all the time. Only you." He cleared his throat, then inhaled through his teeth. He looked just as flustered as I felt.

"Oh. Me...me too." You mustered the courage to respond. Your head almost spun from the information, but at the same time your heart was going to break out of your ribcage from joy. "Me too, I-I like you a lot, I like you so much, Con, you keep me awake at night, too."

He sighed, relieved at your response. He then approached you, helmet under his arm. You reached out to take his hand, face breaking out into a grin, but then your thoughts interrupted you two once again, via your mouth. "Hey, Con."

"Yes?" You almost squealed in giddiness with the heart-eyed look he was giving you at that moment.

"What if Austen likes you?"

"Oh, no, I'm gay," Said a third voice. You spun around to see Austen, still in her cartoon design shirt and shorts, a bow slung over her shoulder and a knife in her hand. "...That's okay, right?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Connor shrugged.

Austen relaxed. "Okay." Then she tried darting past you two, but you jumped into position, blocking her way.

You realized a second too late that your efforts were directed at a decoy. "Thank you!" Someone shouted. Annabeth Chase stood at your base, holding your flag, grinning proudly.

[mars-ipan]

hiii looking around... did somebody say komahinanami... hehee.. im blanking a teensy bit bc i wasnt expecting to be consumed by a lake of fire (the joy of them squishies) when i got off work. but nyaaaaa hai i'll dig around in my pockets.

i dont know if ive mentioned this in passing b4 on thirst or not but it's still True so. but i think hajime forever doomed True little spoon. he's getting cuddled from both sides, like forever. he settles into bed with just chiaki and he thinks just Maybe he's gonna get to hold her but komaeda is very quickly chasing them and he's back in the middle squished again. it's nice but he's forced to the one armed side hug and he's :( until theyre just sliding all over him. rolling on his chest like bugs throughout the night.

they wake up all sleepy yawn rubbing their eyes and hinata drags them to the kitchen. im not sure eee how their home would look, if theyd even Want one. would they build one, would they swap between cabins? do they just steal the lobby of the hotel for a little bit? no great idea they just use their Fuck Nest (old house)'s kitchen. they just live there for the most part because it's spacious and it's.. well it is a house? besides the freako kinda hotel lobby it's a house. i think they have a cute little island with barstools in their ugly fucking restaurant grade kitchen. their just fucking giant stove they use to make like pancakes and like spaghetti. i think hajime's properly the designated cook because freak 1 and freak 2 are just so accident prone. chiaki tries her best, even thinks of cooking as a minigame to motivate herself but hajime found her asleep washing dishes and the oven with Something on fire. it was supposed to be a cake, hajime can not even tell it used to hve a shape it's just ash by the time he gets it out. theyre' lucky they dont Die. and nagito. he's just banned from using the kitchen to cook even small things like he's not allowed to make a pb&j , so he's forced pampered hehe. he's not allowed bc last time he tried to make a sandwich he broke the fridge which then flooded the kitchen because the switch for water just wouldnt stop gushing even unplugged. he still feels bad when he walks over to get a drink and the floor is bent inward a little.

nyaa hm. i just really like their domestic life i think they deserve to lounge about after Everything. they have designated game nights where chiaki crushes them each and everytime no matter what

you were probably expecting a cute doodle but i envisioned komaeda fucking SPRINTING to join hinanami for a cuddle session like an overexcited cat and couldn't stop giggling

[xclowniex]

How is people pointing out the atrocities committed by the IDF/IOF whatever the hell they are immediately labeled “allies of Hamas” when ya’ll constantly always use the whole “you can disagree with the actions of others” excuse to justify why Israel does whatever they do

Please point out where I have ever said that. It's honestly pretty tiring getting asks where people try to put words in my mouth that I have never said.

What you can find on many posts on my blog is me saying that I myself do not agree with the actions of the Israeli Government or the IDF and that you can criticize the Israeli government and IDF without being antisemitic which a lot of people fail at doing.

A lot of "criticisms" come from modern day blood libel where people will straight up say an antisemitic trope and swap out jew for zionists or Israel and that is not okay. Changing jew to zionists or Israel or anything similar does not remove the fact that it's still an antisemitic trope being used towards either half of the world's jews (as half live in Israel) or towards 80% of jews (as 80% of jews believe in some form of zionism, the most popular form amongst jews is a peaceful two state solution)

Another from of antisemitism which is masked as "criticism" is when people will only say something is bad if Israel does it yet is fine with any other country doing it. This is antisemitism as why is something only bad when the only jewish state in the world does it?

If a criticism does not fall into either group, then it's not antisemitism.

I also have not labeled everyone as "allies of hamas" what you are thinking about is when I have replied to anons and people saying they are riding hamas's dick or have drunk the hamas koolaid. This is simply me calling out people who are falling for hamas propaganda. Microsoft literally did a report earlier this year on Iran pushing pro hamas propaganda online and getting a lot of engagements. You can search the research findings yourself online as it's free to view.

Whilst I do understand that my replies can be harsh, from my perspective, I am getting a lot of asks, a lot of which I just delete and do not answer, of people who do not understand the basic concepts I have explained here and also like to do the whole "oh you only post about pancakes, you must hate waffles" thing. And it gets tiring and annoying. I do get fed up with people who do not understand nuance when it comes to things or that I might only focus on the Jewish and Israeli side of things because there are already so many great voices there speaking out for Palestine. Adding my voice won't do much more for palestine so instead I lend it back to my community, trying to fight antisemitism and xenophobia.

And the thing is, antisemitism deserve to be spoken about. It deserves blogs which only speak about it or is the main focus. I've experienced a lot of it in my life. I'm not gonna just trauma dump right now but I have been hate crimed before. It was not fun. And when I see levels of antisemitism which is worse than during the time I was hate crimed and a lot of the rhetoric being said that I was hate crimed for, I can't help but to not want to lend my voice to speak out about antisemitism.

Onto your last point, I have never justified any Palestinian civilians deaths. The closest I have ever gotten to it was on a post talking about the hostages where I say it is a difficult situation as Palestinian civilians have died during the hostages rescue and that Palestinian and Jewish and Israeli lives are all equal in value. And that its also hard because if the hostages were not rescued, they would likely have been killed at some point in the future and it's just a hard situation as my heart goes out to all the Palestinians who died that day as well as that I am happy that 4 hostages are home. In that post I also mentioned that my ideal scenario is no one dead, both in the operation and in the war in general and for everyone to be safe.

The other thing which I get a lot of anons about is whenever I bring up the war crimes done by hamas, such as in that same post about the hostages, I mentioned how it is a war crime for hamas to have the hostages in a civilian area and that in the eyes of international law, those Palestinian deaths are due to Hamas.

I honestly don't think that either of those things is justifying the IDFs actions. What I do think is that you, and so many others are afraid of nuance. As soon as someone like myself goes "these are all the factors at play and it sucks that things have turned out as they have" and not "idf bad no nuance ever" you get uncomfortable. And its fine to be uncomfortable. But what isn't okay is taking that feeling of uncomfortableness and directing it into misreading jews online to try and feel secure in your world view again.

I honestly hope that you have read all of this, as I know it's a long post, and you consider everything I have said.

[formulaforza]

carousel-- c.sainz

paring: carlos sainz x reader word count: 670 a/n: dad!carlos

They installed a permanent carousel downtown a few months ago, just a couple blocks away from your house, right in the middle of the park you took your daughter to play in. She’s been bugging you since it got installed to go for a ride, but they don’t take card and you always forget about it when you’re getting ready to leave the house with her. 

You remembered last week, though, and after paying and waiting in line for fifteen minutes with an impatient toddler, she got too scared to ride it. Another fifteen minutes later you were able to convince her to sit with you in one of the carriage benches, but she was completely horrified at the idea of riding on one of the horses. 

She woke you up early Saturday morning, jumped into the bed and tackled you awake. You got up and made breakfast–actually made it, didn’t just give her a bowl of cereal and popped a bagel in the toaster for yourself–while you waited for Carlos to get back from the gym. 

“¿dónde papi?” She asked, for the millionth time since you put a plate of pancakes in front of her. He’ll be home soon, you told her again and again until he was actually home, walking into the kitchen with his gym bag still slung over his shoulder, empty water bottle in his hand. He kissed the top of your daughter’s head, stole a piece of fruit from her plate and got a pint-sixed scolding, patted Piñon’s head, kissed you on his way to the bedroom. “Morning,” he spoke against your lips. 

“Morning.” You say. “Want to come to the park with us?”

“Oh, my goodness!” He gasps, dramatically, makes your little girl giggle around her fork. “The park!? Is this true, nena?”

“Si!” She giggles. “We bring Piñon.”

“Well then,” He turns back to you with a smile. “How could I miss it?”

– –

“Mami, we go on the ride?” She asks, tugging on your hand as soon as her eyes land on the colorful carousel.  You consider telling her you don’t have the money, but you know Carlos does, know he won’t pick up on it until it’s too late. 

“I don’t know, nena.” You told her, “You had no fun last time.”

“No, Mami!” She whines, “I be good.” 

You play with Piñon in the park, the three of you, for over an hour before she’s back on it again, asking to ride it and promising that she isn’t going to have a meltdown. You give in, because you’ve been working on picking your battles and in the grand scheme of things, another trip around the carousel seated on the benches isn’t going to be the end of the world. 

Carlos stays with the dog, watches from behind the barricade, and you wait in line with your daughter. Predictably, she refuses to get on. Nena, por favor, you plead with her, but she isn’t budging. “You want to go with Papi?” You can literally see the lightbulb go off in her head before she nods. 

You should’ve known–she’s been a daddy’s girl since before she was born. You swap places with him and watch on with Piñon, watch Carlos hoist your little girl up onto one of the horses, strap the belt around her little body and stand next to her. He takes a picture of her, one you know you’ll be grateful for when you see it, her cheesy smile making him laugh at his phone screen. 

They really are the best of friends, you never could have convinced her to get on the actual ride, but you doubt Carlos even had to ask. They giggle like they’re both little kids the entire time, Carlos winks at you once and the next time around the both blow you kisses. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked when they got off, while your daughter scratched the dogs ears. 

“Super fun.” She said, smiled, absolutely beamed up at Carlos. Only him, only her father, only her hero.

[taylorsv3rsion13]

we never go out of style || c.f.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

words : 2.7k

synopsis : things were always rocky for conrad and you. after the whole break up, will everything be the same the year later? or will it all turn to shit.

Every year since we were little kids we would celebrate mine and Belly's birthday. We were born on the same day, but a year apart. And it seemed to make us closer. Susannah would decorate the house and Laurel would make us pancakes every year and Conrad would draw a sun with syrup all over my pancakes. It was like a holiday for us.

"Happy birthday, sweetie!" My mom said over the phone as I was calling her.

"Thank you." I said, smiling.

"Okay, I won't keep you away for long, I know you're waiting for your pancakes." She laughed through the phone.

"Bye, love you!"

"Love you too."

I finished getting ready, putting on all of the makeup and jewelry I needed.

My outfit was normal, just wearing a teal tank top and a green cargo mini skirt.

As soon as I came out of the room Belly did too.

"You're looking hot." I said to her as we made our way down the stairs. She was wearing a floral patterned birthday dress.

"Morning!" We shouted in sync as we came into the kitchen.

Steven and Laurel were making pancakes, Jeremiah and Susannah were decorating, and Conrad looked like he didn't want to be there.

There were various smiles with "hey" and "Happy birthday!"

Susannah came to us first, hugging us, "There are the birthday twins!" She exclaimed.

Jeremiah hugged Belly as Steven hugged me, "Happy birthday." They both said to us before swapping.

"Belly Button's getting old finally!" I exclaimed as I gave her sixteen punches on the arm.

She was quick to return, hitting me even harder seventeen times as I screamed around the kitchen.

Laurel raised an eyebrow at us before giving us a group hug, "Happy birthday, beautiful girls."

"Did you call your mom?" Susannah asked as she plated some fruit.

"Yes, she was the first person I talked to."

"Your Minnie and Mickey Mouse pancakes are ready." Laurel smiled.

Belly looked at her mom for a moment, "I'm actually not that hungry..."

I looked at Laurel, "I'll take a pancake or two."

"Okay, how about presents?" Susannah asked.

"You're going to love mine." Jeremiah said, yet I don't know who he was talking to.

Conrad didn't say anything, eating his cereal in peace. He ignored me, but did wave hello to Belly.

Belly opened her present from her mom first. It was a beautiful book.

"It's a first edition. I got it from a rare book dealer." Laurel smiled.

We all noticed how Belly didn't have much emotion with the book, "Turn to the bookmarked page."

"That's the poem Susannah would repeat to us." I said, reading the page.

I grabbed the present that she had given me. I unwrapped it to reveal the most gorgeous cover I've ever seen on a book. It was Little Women.

"Oh, wow." I said, looking through the pages.

"Your mom said it reminded you of home."

I looked up to Laurel, "Thank you so much."

"Girls, open mine now!" Susannah squealed as she handed us our gifts.

Belly revealed a black velvet box, while I had a white one.

She opened hers, and a pearl bracelet was inside.

"Oh, wow." Belly exclaimed.

"These were pearls that my mom gave me for my sweet 16. Now Y/N, open yours."

I opened the box and there was a gorgeous pearl necklace.

"Those were also from my mom. She gave them to me when I was a debutante." She smiled as she admired Belly and I.

"Oh Y/N, I have another gift for you." Susannah said.

I looked at her, puzzled on why I would have two?

She handed me another box, this time it was a velvet red. I opened it and there was a golden chain with a sun in the middle. I immediately recognized it as a matching necklace, needing a moon on the other side.

"Isn't there supposed to be a moon as well?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe someone else has it." Susannah shrugged. "I just thought it reminded me of you."

Jeremiah jumped up, "Ooh! I'm next."

He handed us his somewhat neatly wrapped gift.

Belly was given a charm in the shape of a key.

"It's for good luck. So you can pass your drivers test." Jeremiah smiled.

I opened mine revealing a golden bracelet with a heart charm.

"Thank you so much, Jere." I smiled.

"Think fast Y/N!" Steven said as he threw a present at me. He also threw one at Belly. "Open them at the same time!" He urgred.

We both ripped through the package, opening and unfolding a Princeton crewneck.

"Oh my god you actually got in!" I exclaimed as I ran to hug him.

"No, not yet." He smiled.

Laurel looked at Steven, "I didn't know you were still considering Princeton?"

"Well I'll probably get scholarships and Dad said I could get some financial aid." Steven explained.

The room got silent and tension was high.

"Uh Conrad, do you have a present for Belly and Y/N?" Susannah asked.

He passed Belly a black velvet bag. She opened it, taking out a silver infinity necklace.

His attention then turned to me, "Sorry, I forgot."

"Oh yeah, don't worry, it's cool. I wasn't expecting much anyway." I smiled, trying to actually hide how I felt.

It did hurt. He remembered Belly's birthday, yet he couldn't even remember mine. Which was the same day.

There was a lot of tension in in the room as everyone looked at each other.

"Uhm, so I have to go. I promised Cleveland that I'd show him some knots today."

I watched as he got up from his seat and left. I didn't want it to affect me, but it really did.

"Happy birthday Y/N, and Belly." He said.

"Why don't we go practice driving?" I asked Belly, trying to take my mind off of things. "So you can drive us to get Taylor as well."

She squealed excitedly, "Yes!"

I got up from my seat, heading over to go out the front.

"Hey Y/N?" Susannah called out.

I turned to her, "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Of course I am." I smiled reassuringly.

I sat in the passenger seat while Jeremiah sat in the back.

She made a sharp right and we all went flying.

"Whoops." She laughed.

"Dear god, Bells." I said as I held onto anything I could grab on to.

The bus pulled up as we stood there, waiting for Taylor to come out.

"You excited, Bells?" I asked.

"Yeah." She said, but I could tell there was a part of her that wasn't excited.

"Twenty-bucks she's gonna call Jere, Jeremy." I said.

The girl emerged from the bus holding a handful of balloons and a bag.

"Oh, my god!" Taylor exclaimed as her and Belly ran to each other.

"Taylor!" I said as I ran to hug her.

"Here, let me take that for you." Jeremiah said as he took her bags.

Taylor smiled looking up at Jeremiah, "Thank you, Jeremy."

I laughed at Jeremiah as he just stood there smiling.

"So, should we head home?" Jeremiah suggested.

"Ooh, actually, let's make a stop first." Taylor said, making eye contact with Belly and I.

We sat under an umbrella as Jeremiah placed down a banana split with three spoons for us.

Taylor dug in first, "I would literally eat this every day if I could."

She also pulled out a gift for Belly. And another for me.

"Oh wow, these are cute." I said as I opened my present, revealing a blue bikini.

"I know right, it's hot." She said.

Belly opened hers and it was a white bikini.

"Y/N?" Taylor called out as we hung out in the pool.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Where's Conrad?" She asked.

"Oh, I don't know." I shrugged, swimming over to Jeremiah and Steven.

After a couple of minutes in out own little groups, Taylor suggested to play chicken, which we all agreed to.

"Dibs on Jeremy." Taylor smiled as she made her way to Jeremiah

"Oh, great, that means I'm stuck with Steven." Belly said sadly.

"Wait, what about Y/N?" Jeremiah asked.

Belly looked at me, "Oh, do you want to go on Steven?"

"No it's fine, you guys can play." I said.

There was a few complaints from Belly and Steven about being each others partners, so Taylor and Belly switched.

"Okay, three, two, one, go!" I yelled as they began fighting in the water.

The fight lasted less than a minute with Taylor and Steven falling into the water.

"Woo!" Jeremiah and Belly exclaimed in excitement. I gave them both a high five.

On the other hand, Steven and Taylor were bickering about who's fault it was that they lost.

"Hey guys!" A familiar voice said.

I turned my head around and Nicole was walking through with Conrad.

"Hey, Nicole!" I said.

"Hi. Happy Birthday you two." She said. "Are you guys playing.. chicken?"

"Yeah, it was Taylor's idea." Belly said.

"Hey, I'm Taylor." Taylor said from behind Belly.

Belly smiled, "She's my best friend from home."

"Yeah, I'm just visiting for the weekend." Taylor added.

"Oh, that's cute." Nicole said.

"Do you guys wanna play a real game?" I asked.

Everyone in the pool said yes.

Jeremiah had helped me set up the net and then the games began. I was on the girls side and Nicole and Conrad sat on the edge of the pool, dipping their feet in the water.

The boys groaned 'No!' as us girls cheered for our point.

We did a couple more rounds, as we all laughed a lot. This was definitely one of my favorite summers. Being with everyone, like nothing ever happened.

"You're not ready." Taylor smirked to Steven.

"You're on."

Taylor hit the ball, and it swerved, hitting Nicole in the head.

"Ow." Nicole said.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Steven said through in-between awkward laughs.

"Taylor." Belly said sternly before turning back to Nicole, "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry. You guys keeping playing." Nicole said to us.

"Feel better Nicole!" I said as she began walking back into the house with Conrad.

Conrad stopped in his tracks, just looking down at me.

"Have fun playing." He said.

Dinner was just as I'd imagined. It was gorgeous and vibrant.

Susannah had made the girls all flower crowns as well, for Midsommar.

I sat in between Jeremiah and Conrad again, but we added another chair next to Belly, because Cam Cameron was here!

Throughout the dinner, Jeremiah kept question Cameron, making fun of him almost.

Somehow Jeremiah got on the talk about kissing dead animals and then kissing Cameron, which made me kick him hard in the shin.

"Ow." He exclaimed.

"Oh shut up."

"I don't mind at all, in fact-" Cameron said as he kissed Belly on the lips.

I'm not even joking. All of our mouths fell open.

From beside me, Steven and Jeremiah both pretended to retch.

"If you guys don't shut up." I said loudly over their obnoxious noises.

It got into our embarrassing moments throughout our childhood at the Fishers as well, but Conrad stayed silent the whole time.

"Hey, I was thinking. Maybe we should go out to Nicole's party?" I asked

"Yes!" Taylor and Belly exclaimed at the same time.

Conrad's eyes met mine for a second before dropping. He didn't seem happy with what I said.

I laid on Belly's bed, staring up at the cieling.

"I think Conrad still hates me." I stated.

Taylor and Belly turned to look at me.

"Why would you say that?" Belly asked.

'I don't know. When I brought up Nicole's' party, he just seemed to go quieter than normal.

Taylor laughed a little, "It's fine Y/N. He's just a dumb boy either way."

I sighed knowing she was right.

"Look at us," Taylor said as we looked in the mirror, "We're hot ass bitches."

She was in the hot pink mini dress, Belly was in a knit crochet top with beige pants, and I was in a halter white and blue top with jeans.

As soon as we walked into the party, a man came down the stair banister, wooing.

And then to the right of the house was what I'm guessing was a dining room. Lot's and lot's of cakes and desserts with 17 and 16 candles.

"Y/N, you guys came!" Nicole's voice said as she made her way through people.

I laughed a little, "Hi, Nicole! You look gorgeous." I said, hugging her.

"Me? Look at you. You look like a goddess."

Nicole lead us through the house and they followed behind. Well everyone but Taylor. She had decided to find a drink for herself.

"Guys, look who's here." Nicole said to the girls.

Nicole began lighting the candles.

"Is this for us?" Belly asked.

"Who else would it be for, Belly?" Nicole asked with a smile.

"Thank you, guys." Belly and I both had said.

"Okay, well, girls, make a wish." Nicole motioned towards the two cakes.

The topic with the group got onto Conrad and how he was.

"He's not talking to anyone else. He's usually just to himself." I said

"Okay well new topic." Nicole said, not wanting to talk about Conrad, "Have you asked anyone to the ball"

"Oh, no. I'm waiting for the right person." I said, giving Nicole a smile.

I looked past Gigi who was saying something to Belly about asking Cam to the ball. Anywho, past Gigi was Conrad. He was messing with his hair and he was laughing and smiling.

I couldn't even lie. He was attractive.

He made eye contact with me as he drank a large part of his beer.

I couldn't like him again though. But there was part of me that knew it could happen again. Susannah told me to believe in second chances.

I don't know what happened really. I was just watching the boys play their little ping pong drinking game and then Belly came out all mad.

"Hey, can we leave?" Belly asked Cameron.

"Oh yeah, yeah." Cameron said.

"Y/N, you need a ride home? I don't want to take you away from the party." Belly said.

"It's fine. I'll give her a ride home." Conrad jumped in.

I looked at him questioningly, but he didn't look back.

"See you later, Bells!" I called out to her as she began to leave.

Jeremiah looked at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Fill in for Cam Cameron please."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him, "Fine, scooch over."

After an hour or so, we all were ready to leave. By now I was drunker then I probably should've been. So drunk that Conrad had to help me to the car and into the car.

He sat in the drivers seat as I just stared at him.

"You're like the moon to my sun." I sighed, touching his hair.

He grabbed onto my hand, putting it back into my lap.

"Y/N, you're drunk." He said to me.

"Noo, you're drunk." I said to him, booping his nose.

I came down stairs the next morning. Jeremiah already in the kitchen, mixing himself up one of his smoothies.

"Hit me." I said to him as I groaned and propped my head on the table with my arm.

He laughed, splitting his smoothie with me.

"You drank a lot last night for such a small girl."

"I shouldn't have." I said, gulping down a large amount of the drink.

Belly came down the stairs soon, grabbing the box of cereal and pouring some in her mouth.

"I'm guessing you and tay-tay haven't made up yet?" I asked.

"No." Belly said with no emotion.

At the party, Steven and Taylor were making out and then Belly had walked in.

"You guys want to do a muffin run?" I asked.

"I'm always up for a muffin run." Jeremiah smiled. Belly also agreed.

"Can you get the keys from Conrad's room? Jeremiah asked.

I nodded, "Yeah sure. Is he home?"

"No, he dropped you off at home and then spent the night at Nicole's" Jeremiah explained.

"Oh um." I stammered, "Do you know where he keeps the keys?"

"Uh, they should be in his desk." Jeremiah said.

I never really was in Conrad's room often. But it didn't look much different than the last time I had seen it. It was obviously boat themed which was cute.

His drawers were messy inside. Nothing was organized and there were like 5 condoms.

There was also a black velvet pouch which I took out. Yes, I'm nosy, but I wanted to know what was inside.

I opened it and saw a moon bracelet.

I put the bracelet charm against my sun charm and it fit perfectly. What the hell was wrong with him?

When we went home, I drove Belly and Taylor to the bus stop.

I sat in the car with Belly as we watched Taylor wait in line for the bus.

"You're not going to say goodbye?" I asked her skeptically.

"I don't want to talk to her." Belly said, not making eye contact with me.

"Come on Belly, she's your best friend. She loves you, especially if she came out here just for your birthday."

Belly sighed, "Fine."

Once she came back in, she seemed mad, but I didn't care.

"I know i'm only a year older than you, but just take my wisdom for once." I joked, "Boys might come and go, but your best friend is once in a lifetime. You're lucky you have someone like Taylor. We never know what the future will hold, so you have to hold tight to that relationship."

Friends come and go. Boys come and go. But best friends stay. They're real. That's what I loved about the Fishers and Conklins. They were my best friends and they always stayed. Every single year.

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

Miraculous ladybug season 5 episodes (released so far) guide:

For my lovely friends who cannot recall which episode is which (sidenote, if you havent seen season 5 please remember that a very brief memory-jogging summary is not gonna give you full context and please just watch the show if you wanna know what’s going on)

Evolution: time portals, gabi chooses violence against teenagers over saving his loved ones, alix is put into witness protection

Multiplication: Alliance is announced, Adrien quits his job, no one can find Félix

Destruction: Gabi attempts to doxx Ladybug but is foiled by the power of scavenger hunts. Then he cataclysms himself

Jubilation: gabi uses spyware to doxx ladybug real? psyche! It’s just marinette’s old friend in a costume! Also Ladynoir gets married and has four kids and then gets divorced and never speaks of it again

Illusion: “i’ll make you pancakes any day, son.” Gabi is so divorced and in a custody battle. Nino creates the Resistance and akumatizes Gabi on purpose for intel

Determination: adrientte goes back to the wax museum with luka and kagami as wingmen. Marinette fails the date successfully by finally deciding that chat noir is so hot

Passion: Natalie gives Adrien romance advice and gets akumatized on purpose to fight her ex-husband. Ladynoir kwami swap happens.

Reunion: old-fashioned stuffy ladybug calls chat noir a silly little clown boytoy but ladybug will not be stopped from loving him even more

Elation: glaciator 3.0

Transmission: crying sobbing in bed, love confession, rejection, the kwamis decide the depression has gone too far

Deflagration: kittybella, gay rights, five seconds of ladrien, that adrinette hand-raising thing, my entire life

Perfection: “i love moo,” dolphin love song, kagami turns into a cloud for a minute

Migration: luka goes into witness protection

Derision: marinette traumatic backstory reveal. Adrien tries to maim a man

Intuition: gabi is dying. This is his own fault. They are in outer space

Protection: adrinette cute picnic date, look how polyamorous-coded they can make kagami

Adoration: power of lesbians so strong it convinces marinette to say i love you to her boyfriend

Emotion: diamond dance, argos reveal, red moon, laying on the floor bathed in moonlight and wailing rights

Pretension: kagami is slightly kidnapped but then takes over her own kidnapping and gets to trauma dump. Marinette insults Gabi’s pancakes

Revelation: someone Finally gets doxxed! It is Gabi. Lila becomes a conspiracy influencer and a class rep

Confrontation: lila tries to ruin everyone’s lives by messing with their class schedules. marinette is 12,000 steps ahead of her. Lila’s wig is snatched

Collusion: evil police robots are a thing. Bustier is a confirmed lesbian who craves the proletariat uprising. Ladynoir says guillotine the elites. chloe is mayor. Superheroes are illegal.

That’s all that’s been released as of today (may 28, 2023)! Please dont mention leaks on this, this is just a reference for keeping track of released episodes, okay thanks!

[heartfullofleeches]

Yes please give us Vampire V headcanons!

Incel Vampire? Incel Vampire.

If you thought normal V was an asshole, you're in for a whole new mess. His possessiveness factor is scaled up by a hundred as your blood is the only he'll drink frsesh from the tap and he much prefers it over the blood bags he keeps stored in the fridge. Would drain you like a juice box if that didn't kill you and all.

• Enjoys pop up out of thin air and dropping the most morbid shit before dipping back into his room. "Wouldn't it be funny if I stole your phone while you were sleeping, pretending to be you and invited your friends over - and when they arrive I slit their throats all while you're still sleeping and wake you up by spitting their blood into your mouth?..... I'm kidding, relax - quit hiding your phone."

• Legitimately learns how to cook because he wants you well energized when he feeds from you.... but also because he wants to put your blood in pancake batter without burning them for the millionth time. He can consume regular food, but refuses to do so without at least adrop of your blood to sweeten it up. Will call you from work (if he lets you work away from home) and demand you rush over on your lunch break because he needs you to bleed directly into his energy drink can so he can stay away and stalk the tracker he put on your phone

•Leading off that last point, absolutely hates that his body is wired to sleep during the day. While that would usually be a good thing, he tosses and turns - paranoid because resting then would mean you could do whatever you pleased without his knowledge. Another reason he's so bitchy is because he will not sleep unless you are at home and all of the front door locks are bolted shut. Wakes up post mortem to drag you off to nap with him whether you're in the middle of a shower or eating breakfast/lunch. Just scoops you out of the tub and off to his room, mindful enough to begrudgingly wrap your towel around you first. Still a twig but got that vamp strength

• The maid outfit is swapped with a nurse one and those bat fishnet stockings. I don't make the rules, and you don't have a say on whether you wear them or not.