#it was like a ~hide under the blankets and be quiet so mom and dad dont wake up~ kind of thing

[reindeer-dad]

TRUTH SERUM + What do you think of Dess and Noelle liking creepypastas?

Send “ Truth Serum + [ a question ] ” and Rudy has to answer truthfully.

Sounds like a big regret...

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, bedtime stories

series masterlist

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - finn is begging for a bedtime story, and lando has the perfect one to share. 

masterlist

-

“but daddyyy,” your son whined for the fourth time, “i don’t wanna go bed!” with that he stomped his tiny foot onto the ground and crossed his chubby little arms in an attempt to be upset. 

“no ‘but daddy’, finn. it’s bedtime, you need to go to sleep,” lando spoke sternly to the little boy. finn has always been well-behaved. you and lando often joked that his terrible two’s were instead the terrific two’s. he was taught and exhibiting his manners, his patience was impeccable, and when either of you asked him to do something he usually followed through. except for bedtime. bedtime was his enemy, which in turn made it yours and lando’s as well. 

“noooooo daddy, pweasee,” your three year old continued on his quest to avoid sleep. lando let out a sigh and dropped a knee in order to reach finn’s height, “how about a bedtime story, finn? will that make ya feel better?” your husband holds his breath waiting for the answer, silently saying a prayer that his son will agree.

finn’s arms slowly fall from their crossed position and he sways his body a bit before a quiet ‘otay’ slips out of his mouth. his father attempts to hide his proud smile as he scoops the boy off the ground and begins carrying him to his room. 

“is momma coming for story?” finn asks his dad.

“of course, bud, i’ll go get her while you get ready in bed, ok?”

“otay!” with the assurance of your presence, finn began to squirm from his fathers hold in order to rush into his room, hopping onto his bed. lando takes a look in the room, smiling to himself as he watches his son grab different stuffed animals and toys to ‘watch the show’. your husband turns down the hall, bringing his knuckles up to knock gently on your office door. he cracks the door open, leaning his head in to gaze in your direction. 

“love?” hearing his voice, you turn in your chair, breaking your view from the computer in front of you and trading it for your husband's eyes. both of you take seconds to admire the other, comfortable, a little sleepy, and oh so beautiful. lando drinks in your beauty, and you do his. he gives you a smile that you gently return.

“finn’s asking that you join us for a bedtime story, fancy taking a break?” 

“i would love that,” you’re quick to reply, and with that you stand, lando grabbing your hand as you make your way to finn’s room. 

“momma!” your three year old enthusiastically lets out as he kneels on his bed.

“hi, baby,” you let go of lando’s hand, instead using it to run over your son's curly head of hair. letting out a quiet ‘scoot over’ to finn, you both proceed to get comfortable on his twin bed, ultimately ending with you lying back propped up on pillows with finn tucked into your side under the blankets. your husband takes a seat at the end of the bed and claps his hands together.

“right, now, are you both ready for the best bedtime story?” he raises his eyebrows and highers his pitch in order to gain some giggles from his two favorite people. 

“yes, dada! story! story!” finn chants between his laughs.

“yeah, daddy! story!” you begin to add into the chanting, the boy tucked into your side erupting in more giggles. lando sends a slight wink in your direction at your use of the nickname and clears his throat. 

“okay, this story begins alllll the way back before you were born,” 

a gasp escapes your son in shock at the timeline and he lets out a small ‘that a long time’ which makes you and lando share a look of, damn, are we that old?

lando brushes it off and continues, “once upon a time, there was a young woman, and her name was y/n,”

another gasp from your mini, “like momma?” he asks as he looks at you.

“yes, like momma,” your husband answers as you boop your son's nose, “and she was, and is, the prettiest girl in the world. now, y/n’s parents-”

“NANA AND PAPA!” finn screeches out with excitement. you and lando share a laugh and he starts up again, “yes, nana and papa. now y/n’s parents had just moved to england as y/n began school in england, too. so, they reached out to their friends, cisca and adam-”

“NAN AND POP!” another screech and another fit of laughs is echoed through your son’s room. 

“yes, baby, now let daddy finish the story,” you tell your son gently. 

“otay, momma, i sowwy i jus’ excited!” both you nor your husband could correct that sweet behavior, instead choosing to keep moving on. 

“alright, y/n’s parents and cisca and adam all had dinner one night, and they found out that their kids had a lot in common,” lando steals a moment to meet your eyes and you send him back a warm smile, “cisca and adam’s son, hmm let’s call him lando-”

“dada! that your name!” 

“that’s right, buddy, so the group of parents agreed to have the two kids meet. lando had been off racing and y/n was at university, so they hadn’t met for months. until, finally, it was a warm july evening, and the two arrived separately at a party y/n’s parents had put on. now, lando walked into the home, and right ahead of him he sees this girl. she was wearing a long, peach-colored dress, hair down and beautiful, and had eyes that were absolutely stunning,”

“wow, mommy you pwetty,” your son speaks towards you with wide eyes.

“thank you, my love,” you reach down to place a kiss onto the top of his head while holding down the tears threatening to escape. your husband and your son were both enamored by you and it made your heart soar and squeeze in love.

“lando had the need to walk over to this beautiful woman and introduce himself, and so he did,” your husband caught your eyes again, staring at you with the same love-struck look he did five years ago. 

“what she say, dada?”

“she said, hello,”

“what did you say, dada?”

“i said, hi,”

“when you get marry?”

“marriage didn’t come for a few more years, buddy. the first question i had to ask her was if she wanted to go on a date with me,”

“did you?”

“i did,”

“what she say?”

“thankfully, she said, yes,”

you noticed the time and began to wrap up the story, but not without adding in your own two-cents, “and that was the best decision she had ever made,” you placed another kiss on your son’s forehead and began to stand up from the bed. lando helps you up and tucks you into his side before you both bend down and begin to tuck your son in. lando brings his blankets up to your son's chin, kissing his forehead gently with a whispered ‘i love you’. you mimic his same actions after him while adding a ‘sleep tight, my love’ and finn's eyes are already closing. 

you both make your way to the door while your hand comes up to turn off the lights. lando begins to lead you out and shut the door, but stops abruptly when he hears the quiet question of, “dada?”

your husband’s head shoots back into the room, “yea, finn?”

“do the y/n and lando in story have happy end?”

lando’s hand finds yours at your side and he intertwines them as he responds, “oh yes buddy, they live happily ever after,” with that, his door is closed with a crack open and your husband shuffles you quietly down the hall back into your office. he begins to watch you pack and close up your work assignments on the computer, leaning his frame against the door. continuing to admire his wife as you speak up, “that was a great story, lan,”

“well i had great characters to speak about,” he chuckles and moves closer to you, grabbing your arms and tossing them gently around his neck before dropping his hands to your hips. 

“oh yes, fantastic, i especially liked the sound of that y/n girl,” you speak softly, staring up at your husband. he gives a light laugh and a squeeze to your bum in response before dropping his head down in order to press his lips against yours. 

pulling away gently, you begin to rake your hand through lando’s curls as you speak, “we got really lucky with him,” you refer to your sleeping boy down the hall. 

“we really did, y/n. you want another?”

“another?”

“yes, another baby. c’mon finn’s three now, its a good age to start trying again, he would understand, i should have a brea-”

“okay,”

“really?”

“yes, i would love to start for another baby, lan,”

“god, i love you so much, y/n” lando leans down again pulling you into a kiss. you break apart quickly, adding in your own ‘i love you so much, too, lan,” as you both proceed to head to the bedroom. 

-

a/n - let me know if you all want this continued! and feel free to send in requests for what you want to see! xoxo

[luveline]

EDDIE AND ROAN , roan and eddie have a little “argument” theyre both so sad and r fixes everything 🥹🥹🥹

eddie and roan ♡ (almost) step mom!reader

“I can't give it to you,” Eddie says, shrugging, “it's for Christmas.” 

“I hate you.” 

You pick your head up from the book you're reading. Roan crosses her arms over her chest defiantly, and Eddie mirrors her pose. 

“That's not true. If I give it to you now, we won't have anything nice to eat on Christmas day. Then it won't feel special.” 

“Santa will bring more.” 

It's sound logic for a kid, but unfortunately for you and Eddie, Santa continues to be a work of fiction, and so he won't be replacing the expensive Christmas pound cake Roan wants to open. 

Eddie shakes his head. “He brings presents, babe. I pay for the food.” 

“You can buy more.” 

“Roan, I'm saying no.” 

Roan's eyes narrow to dark slits. “Dad, that's not fair.” 

“It is, babe. You can't have everything you want just because you want it, this is for a special occasion. We have to save things sometimes.” 

“Ugh,” she says, frowning deeply at him. She's adorable even like this, and you can't help smiling in your seat, watching her show off. “You suck!” 

“You suck,” Eddie says back immediately. 

Roan drops her arms from her chest. She stays quiet, perhaps hoping Eddie will say sorry, and when there's no apology to be found she takes off running up the stairs, huffing and puffing. The slam of her bedroom door shakes the house. 

You put your bookmark between the pages of your book and let it fall closed. You hadn't expected to get very far. “That's not very nice,” you say. 

Eddie groans and shoves the pound cake under a loaf of bread. “I'm not nice,” he says, dragging his feet to your chair, slumping over you, and shoving his face against your neck. You cradle his head instinctively. “I'm mean.” 

“I heard some guy up north has you on his shit list.” 

“Why doesn't she get that I want to eat it too? I hate saying no. I don't want to say no.” 

“But if you said yes to everything she wanted we'd be destitute,” you say, a sorry softness to it as you stroke his hair. He's very warm where he's pressed against you. 

“I know.” 

“Having a bad day?” you ask. 

“The worst.” 

“Want me to try and fix it?” 

“Would you?” he asks, pulling his head up, his voice full of awe as though it was the most generous thing you could have ever offered. 

“Not budging on the cake, right?” 

He shakes his head. “What will we eat Christmas day?” Eddie smiles hopefully, the doe shape of his eyes emphasised, as is the dark hiding of lashes surrounding them. “Tell her I was totally being cranky because she was cranky too, please. And call me a bitch or something, she loves that.” 

You tuck one of his curls behind his ears in goodbye, taking the stairs two at a time to check on your girl. 

Roan is upside down in bed, feet pointed at the pillow and head curled away from you at the bottom. She's got one sock falling off and her room is an explosion of toys as usual, but what upsets you most is the sound of weak sniffles smothered in her blankets. 

Poor girl. Eddie's repeated insult must've struck a nerve. 

“It's me, Roro. Can I come in?” 

“No.” 

“Just for a bit. We can snuggle or something, I…” You smile at her as she lifts her head. “I could really use one. What do you think?” 

You make yourself at home at the top of her bed. Her double feels like a queen size with just the two of you in the middle. Her sheets are flat and tucked still from the morning, and the springs chirp in protest as she waddles across them on her knees, dropping into the invitation of your open arm with a sniff. 

“Dad was so mean to me…” 

“He said something mean, huh?” you ask gently, bringing your hand to the back of her head. Her curls are thick as Eddie's with the same frizz toward the top of her head, soft and fuzzy to touch. “I think you upset him too, when you said he sucked.” 

“I didn't mean it.” 

“I know. Do you think daddy knows that? I bet he does.” 

She whines under your chin, her cheek sticky where it brushes your neck. “It's not fair,” she cries. 

Her sobs are easily soothed. You shush her, rubbing the flat plane of her back with a loving palm. These tears are a mixture of things, you reckon, hybrid crocodiles —she's not getting her way and she's not happy about that, but there's a real injustice there too. It's hard being little sometimes. You don't get to choose what you want, and you can't understand why, either. 

“Listen, babe, I think daddy was right, and we can't have the cake, because the cake cost money, okay? And me and daddy need money for some other things, like fish food for Lucky, and dinner tonight, does that make sense?” 

“But we have the cake,” she says, irritation seeping into her clumsy inflection. 

“We do,” you agree, pulling her up into your chest for a good squeeze, “but that's because we're trying to save it up. If we eat it now, we might not have enough money to buy it again. Daddy isn't trying to be mean, yeh? Just wants you to have a special day…” You run your fingertip down her back, laughing as she shivers, and again when she giggles. “‘Cos Christmas is so soon! And we're being good. So let's go make daddy say sorry, that way he can be back on the good list.” 

“Am I still on the good list?” she asks worriedly. 

You don't like that she's upset, but you like getting to be her mom. “You're on my good list. Let's go see dad and I'm sure Santa will put you straight back to the top.” 

Roan drags her feet just like her dad did, apprehensive on the way down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Eddie's waiting and pretending he isn't, leant up against the countertop with a candy bar in hand. “It's not cake, babe, but you can still have a treat?” he offers. 

Roan steps forward and drops her head into his thigh. “You're not nice.” 

“You said it first, baby,” he says, but he bends over her to kiss her forehead, the tip of his nose brushing her hair, “but you're right. I'm sorry, you don't suck.” 

“Well. You don't suck either.” 

It sounds like she's asking a question. Eddie smiles up at you, and then he drops his face into her completely and starts whining. “Why don't you love me anymore, Roly-poly? You used to be soooo nice to me.” 

“It's ‘cos I'm hungry.” 

He snorts and passes her the candy bar. “Why do I doubt that?” 

“I don't know… Do you want half?” 

“Better make it a quarter, bub. I think Y/N deserves some for being the best mom ever, don't you?” 

Roan turns to look at you. “How much does that leave for me?” she whispers. 

“Still half,” you whisper back. 

She smiles happily and forces the candy bar back into her dad's hands, demanding Eddie open it and break it up into pieces for her. He spares her the hard work, and everyone forgets about the Christmas cake for a few weeks. 

[dancingtotuyo]

Home | Part 2

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You and Frankie come to a crossroads

Tags: fluff, angst, family, recovering!frankie, girl dad!Frankie

Warnings: references to past drug use (cocaine), addiction recovery, struggling to cope, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: once again- thank you to the lovely @wannab-urs for beta reading!

I don’t think this is going to turn into a full fledge series but I definitely foresee myself revisiting this little family at least once more.

Words: 2225

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Life either feels like it’s rushing by in a blur or crawling at a snail's pace. Layla is growing like a weed, standing as tall and as straight as a yardstick. You celebrate her third birthday in the summer, filling this old house with smiles and laughter. You wish it could always be this way.

Frankie gets his helicopter license reinstated the year before. It helps, but you still see the struggle in his eyes. Despite his assurances that he’s not touched cocaine since he got busted, you find yourself checking his old hiding places and searching for new ones. You haven’t found anything yet. He’s given no indication of using again, but you see the stress carved out in his forehead and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It feels like a when, not an if. You don’t know how to slow down the barreling train.

Then, one night he’s not home. It’s well past midnight as you sit on the couch wrapped tightly in a blanket staring out the window. You pray for his high beams to blind you. There’s a pit forming in your stomach. He always tells you when he’s coming home. The only pictures you can conjure up are of him snorting lines. The background changes, but you always see the same blown pupils staring back at you.

The night you met, you’d done lines together off Frankie’s dealer’s coffee table. The dealer was dating your roommate at the time. It hadn’t been the first time you used or the last, but you could count the times you had on your hands. You escaped the addiction. Frankie hadn’t.

It’s after 1 am when his headlights finally shine in your eyes. You stay on the couch, not eager to greet what’s coming through your back door. Frankie’s feet are heavy on the back stoop. There’s a pattern, a routine to them. Two knocks on the side of the house, three stomps on the doormat. The rattling storm door opens and then the ever present squeak of the backdoor echoes through the quiet house.

Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself up. Frankie's eyes meet yours as you flick on the kitchen light. It stings both your eyes. You search for any signs of a fading high. He seems calm, a bit shaken but not in a coked out way. His eyes dilate as they should. He catches your careful inspection. “I’m not high.”

You bite your lip. “Then where have you been?”

Deep bags stain under his eyes. His shoulders slump. He looks exhausted. “I went to get high… sat in the alley for hours.”

“Fuckin’ christ, Frankie!” You hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re not sure you can survive another relapse.

“Baby, I didn’t. I told you.” He grabs your hand, voice breaking. He needs you to believe him. “Please.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m sorry. I had a bad day and-” a sharp little cry interrupts him, and then another. It reminds you of a kitten. They seem to be coming from his duffel. “Shit.” Frankie drops your hands, rushing over to his duffel.

Carefully, he unzips the bag, catching a ball of black fluff that threatens to escape. Your jaw drops. “Francisco Morales! What the fuck is that?”

He holds the kitten to his chest, fingers scratching behind its ears. It’s tiny, probably not old enough to be weaned from its mother yet. “I saw him in the alley.” The kitten nuzzles into Frankie more. “I couldn’t find any other kittens or the mom. The little guy was all alone.”

“And probably infected with fleas.”

“So, I’ll throw my bag in the dryer.” Frankie shrugs. “and pick up some flea and tick medication tomorrow.”

“We can’t take care of a kitten. We’re not prepared.”

“Can’t say we were prepared to take care of Layla either, but she’s still alive,” A faint smile graces Frankie’s face either from the joke or the way the tiny animal is falling asleep in his solid arms.

You bite your lip. Frankie is tired and worn and barely fighting off the demons, but he’s smiling, maybe even relaxing a little. He chuckles as the kitten perks back up, swatting at Frankie’s fingers.

You sigh. “He has to stay in the bathroom tonight, and he’s going to the vet as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie winks, stepping toward you.

You sigh, letting the night’s tension out. Frankie is here. He’s okay physically. He’s not coked up. Of all the outcomes you spent hours worrying over, this one is sunshine and rainbows. As the tension eases, you feel more inclined toward the kitten. He’s a little ball of midnight fur, not a speck of other color to be seen.

“I swear to god, Frank if he has rabies-”

“Then I’m already dead.” He teases.

You smack his shoulder. “Or any other communicable diseases, I’m going to kill you.”

“He’s just a kitten, Babe.” Frankie smiles, kissing the tuft of fur between his tiny ears.

You sigh. “I’ll grab some newspaper. You’ll have to give him milk.”

“Don’t kittens like milk?”

“He’ll probably get the runs. Cats can’t digest milk.” You shoot Frankie the side eyes, gathering the necessary supplies to get the kitten settled.

Frankie is in the bathroom with him until almost 3 am. You have to admit. You almost feel bad leaving the tiny animal alone. Almost. The last thing you need is a flea infestation.

Frankie eventually curls up next to you, sighing as he nuzzles into your neck. “Think he’ll be okay?”

“You found him in an alley. One night curled up on a towel in our bathroom won’t hurt him.”

“Layla is going to love him.”

A laugh sputters from your lips. “If she doesn’t choke him to death. We’re still working on gentle hands.”

Frankie’s laugh joins yours from deep within him. It’s the kind that brings a smile, a true one, about. It’s something that’s been rare as of late.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hands wander haplessly. You bite your lip, soaking in the feeling of his warm hands across your body as you remember how close you came to losing this tonight.

He kisses your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You always worry me.”

Frankie inhales sharply, squeezing you tighter. His lips play at your ear. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“Addiction is a disease, Frankie.”

He huffs, never accepting that response. He feels guilty. He feels responsible for getting hooked on coke, putting you through hell and back.

“If I never-”

“If you never- we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met. We wouldn’t have Layla.”

Frankie sighs, dropping his forehead into your shoulder. You feel the hot tears slipping down your neck. Kissing his head, you thread your fingers through his thick brown curls. Something else is waging war inside him and you think he may finally tell you.

“I think I almost died tonight.”

Your fingers still. Frankie pulls back so that he can look you right in the eyes. The moonlight flickers off of them in your favorite way. “What happened?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nothing. I looked at that alley for so long tonight. I just had a feeling that if I went in, there was no coming back.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. You’ve felt it too, the boulder hanging over your heads, like a sixth sense. If Frankie slips again, there’s no coming back, and relapse has felt so close.

He clenches your pillow in his fist. More tears pour from his eyes. “And what’s worse is the only thing that kept me from it was that damned cat.”

You thumb away one of his tears. “I don’t think that’s true, Frank.”

“I was about-”

“And how long did you sit there before the cat showed up?”

“I don’t know. An hour, maybe two. It took me just as long to catch the cat.”

You stifle a laugh, caressing his cheek. “He might’ve given you a reason to walk away, but I don’t think that cat is the only reason you didn’t relapse tonight.”

“We need to do a better job at talking.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep checking my hiding spots.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods. “And I don’t blame you either.

You stare at him for a moment. His eyes seem clearer today than they have in months. He’s warm against you. He’s home, and he’s your Frankie.

“Will you tell me what happened in Colombia? What really happened?”

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his back. His hand travels to the meat of your thigh. He squeezes and rubs as if he’s self-soothing. “Please don’t leave.”

It comes out just above a whisper. Your heart clenches. This is why he won’t talk about it. Not because of the trauma, but because he’s scared you’ll walk away from him after. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it, and then releasing it. Then, he recounts it all until the sun is peeking through your bedroom windows.

As predicted, Layla is obsessed with the kitten the moment Frankie brings him out. You give him a bath before you let her touch him, treating him with flea and tick medication Frankie grabbed from the grocery store that morning.

Once he’s bathed and treated, the three of you sit on the kitchen floor for hours with the newest member of your family. You’re exhausted and you see the same in Frankie from not sleeping the night before, but your daughter is enthralled by the kitten as the two of them stay occupied with an old shoelace. Nap time is a long way off.

Layla throws a fit to get the kitten to take a nap with her, but you stand firm. He needs at least 24 hours for the flea medication to do its job. You and Frankie fall into sun-soaked sheets once she’s down. Your eyes drift close immediately and Frankie pulls you flush against him.

“Kitten needs a name.” He mumbles.

“Never said it was staying.”

“Ya didn’t need to.”

“You name him. You’re the one who brought him home.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your brain slips further into darkness.

“Cocaine.”

“What?”

“His name. I went into the alley to find Cocaine and I found him.”

You sit up, eyes bleary, but sleep the furthest thing from your mind now. “Our three-year-old daughter is not going to yell out for Cocaine, Frankie.”

His chest shakes with laughter, a smile dancing on his lips. “C’mon. It’s cute. She can call him Coke.” You cross your arms across your chest. Frankie sees none of it, eyes still closed. “... or Coco. That’s cute.”

You huff. Frankie still doesn’t seem to notice but pulls you back down against him instead. “Said I could name him, babe.”

“She’s not calling him Cocaine.”

You fall asleep to Frankie’s deep chuckle.

To Layla, he’s Coco. Frankie calls him a rotation of things like Coke and Cokey, his actual name, and sometimes Little Shit. You call him Crack from the way he zooms through the house at all times of the day.

Layla is obsessed with her newest little pal, always wanting him to be in her room or bed, or to take him to the grocery store, but he spends the nights curled up in your bed – usually around Frankie’s legs.

The times that little Cocaine Morales isn’t flying through your home on a fruitless hunt, he’s curled up somewhere. If Frankie is home, you can find him on his lap, or riding his shoulder. You know he’s much more than a cat to Frankie.

You like having him too. He’s brought joy into your home. It’s a joy that had become rare- only showing up for Layla’s milestones and sparing minutes. You know it’s not just Cocaine. It’s what he represents. He’s a marker for the night things changed for the better.

You and Frankie are talking about it all, the nightmares, the demons. Something that’s been absent for too much of your relationship. You both have begun to seek out help, separately and together. You don’t check Frankie’s hiding spots anymore. The deep, swelling love you’ve always had for him once again bubbles over, filling every crack and crevice of your home. Frankie is more present, more attentive. Slowly but surely, ghosts flee one by one.

Layla’s nickname for the kitten dies the moment Uncle Ben walks into your Labor Day cookout. From the moment on, she spends her time calling out for Cocaine. Her plethora of uncles are a gaggle of hidden chuckles and mischief each time. You shoot glares their way, but you can’t help but find it just as cute.

This thing that nearly tore your family apart, is now something you laugh about bundled into a cute little ball of black fur. The catalyst for things getting better.

There are still dark days, but they’re few and far between. While the thoughts play through Frankie’s mind from time to time, he never returns to the alley.

[anurst]

Girl Bradshaw

Summary: memories of Russia start to resurface and you decided to take a step and talk to Pete. How does he react?

Pairing(s): jake seresin x (fem)(bradshaw) reader

Warning(s): language, PTSD, nightmares, daddy issues, absent father figure, violence/abuse against reader (don't read if you're not comfortable with violence/abuse)

Part 5: Tears for the father

It's cold. So very cold. Your body's shivering and your undergarments do little to provide you warmth. You don't know much time has passed and you feel your body fading. Shit, you want to be back in Oceanside with everyone. You want to be eating Mexican food at the Ruiz family restaurant with everyone and laughing. You want your family.

Your body's weak and you feel your eyes getting heavy. No, you can't close your eyes. If you do, you won't ever open them again. It doesn't sound so bad, now that you think about. You'll finally be with your mom and dad again. The pain has long since faded and you let out a shuddering breath. Jensen will understand. He and everyone will understand if you close your eyes. But, your heart aches. You don't want to leave them. Not yet. There's still so much you haven't done.

You think about how Bradley will find out. Will they show up at his doorstep with news of your death? Will it be your team who tells him? Is he even going to be the one to answer the door? Maybe his partner will, or his kid. A weak chuckle escapes your lips as you think of Bradley's potential children. Without a doubt he'd name them after your late parents.

Or maybe it's Pete who's doorstep they set on. Your beloved godfather. You remember your mom telling you that when you were born, Pete cried tears as he held your small body. He whispered sweet nothings to you as Nick asked him to be your godfather.

"My baby chick," a sweet voice says from somewhere in the dark, small room. You know that voice, you've heard it before. But, you don't who it belongs to. "It's okay," it reassures and you nod. It's ok to let go.

You head shoots up at the sound of footsteps coming closer. Not now, please, not now. You're not sure if you could survive another beating. Your breathing picks up before you force yourself to get a grip.

The door opens and you stare at the dark figure. The lights behind the person hide their face and you give them a smug grin. "Couldn't wait to see me again?" you muse, every part of your body aching. The figure snarls and steps into the room. They grab your hair and you yelp as you weakly hit their arm.

"Let's so how much you run your mouth this time, girl."

You jolt up from your bed and press a hand to your chest. It feels like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. Your fingers curl around the ratty t-shirt that you're wearing. Jensen's scent fills your nostrils and you can feel yourself calm down. He gave you the shirt a while ago but it still smells like him.

The apartment is quiet when you decide to get up. A look at your alarm clock and you see it's 4:30 in the morning. Your body's still trembling and you grab your blanket. Quickly, you make your way to living room and open the cabinets under the TV. For the next couple minutes you're connecting wires to the TV before popping a DVD into the DVD player. You let the video play as you lean against your couch.

"Baby, you are beautiful. Just like your mama. You're smaller than your brother was when he born. You're like a baby chick! That's what I'll call you, baby chick. My chick." Nick's voice fills your apartment and tears immediately fill you eyes. "I'll always protect you, Chick. I'll always love you." You wipe your tears with the blanket and sniffle.

"I miss you, daddy." You take a deep breath as the video ends and a different one plays. A gentle smile takes over your face as you watch. A five-year old you cluelessly walks across the stage as a ten-year old Bradley and Pete cheer wildly from next to the camera. Carole's giggle can be heard and the camera momentaily shifts from you to them. It goes back to you and wide smile is on your face as you catch sight of your family. You excitedly wave to them and pout as a teacher ushers you off the stage and back to your seat.

You look at the clock hanging up on the wall and read the time. 5:02 AM. You contemplate the sudden thought you had and quickly get up, your blanket dropping to the ground. You rush to get your uniform on and send a quick text to Jensen to not come by later.

The air nips at your skin a little while you're making your way to the gym on base. It's early in the morning and there's only a few people up and around camp. You make it to the gym doors and take a deep breath. Ava's words from last night replay in your head and you open the door.

Pete's grunts are the first thing you hear when you enter. His hair is sweaty and sticking to his forehead. The punching bag swings back violently each time he strikes it and you whistle.

"Wouldn't wanna be that punching bag." Pete's eyes widen as he pants.

"Braidy?" he whispers and you frown a little at the sound of your first name. Pete scrambles to stay something else and you sigh. You take a seat on the bench press next to the punching bags.

"Wanted to come see you," is all you say and Pete nods. He grabs his water bottle from the ground and takes a couple chugs before he wipes his mouth.

"How—uh, how have you been?" Pete cringes at his words. Really? That's the best he can do? He's glad you giggle at his question instead of getting angry. Although, if you did, he'd understand.

You intertwine your fingers and look down at them. "Been better." Well, shit. This is awkward and you're vague replies aren't making this any easier.

"You've got a great team," is the best Pete can think of. He doesn't wanna scare you off. Internally, he's happy beyond belief that you're standing (well, sitting) in front of him. Externally, he's tense and apprehensive. He makes small movements as one would when dealing with a scared animal.

You nod at his compliment. "Been with them for a long time."

"I can tell. They certainly love you."

"Mhmm." You're still staring at your hands with your head down. Pete's lip twitches.

"You ok? You've got that look on your face." You finally look at him and laugh.

"I had this dream. Wasn't a good one and I was watching these old videos that I have. There was one of my kindergarten graduation and I just— needed to see you. Make sure you were real or something. I don't know." Pete frowns at your explanation and takes a step towards you. You flinch at the movement, but the older man isn't deterred. He slowly and softly places a hand on your head and crouches down. You let him wrap his arms around your body and close your eyes.

You've missed him. As much as you tried to deny that you didn't, you did. Pete feels like home. He feels safe. He feels like family. You don't realize you're crying until Pete's wiping away your tears, his own falling softly.

"Why—why'd you leave me?" you whisper, voice broken and timid. Pete frowns as he takes a seat next to you. He wraps his hand in yours and sighs.

"After you called me and told me that what happened with Bradley, I thought that if I left you, that you and Bradley would make up. You're brother and sister, you need each other."

"I needed my dad," you countered. You both stare at each other and Pete smiles softly.

"It hurt me to leave you. You were my little girl, blood or not." Silence follows as you and Pete just sit next to each other. You lick your lips and your leg starts to bounce.

"You and Bradley have been in Miramar for the past two years," you say and Pete let's go of your hand.

"Yes."

"Did you guys think of me while you were together."

"Braidy, I think of you all the time."

"You didn't answer my question."

Pete swallows deeply and a pit grows in the pit of his stomach. "We didn't talk about you." That's all you need to hear before you stand up. You wipe your nose and nod before walking to the door. Pete's quick to grab your wrist and you stop. "Braidy, we miss you. Bradley misses you. Please, just talk to him."

You scoff in response and rip your wrist out of his grip. "It was nice talking to you, Pete." You exit the gym as quickly as you can and walk. You don't where you're going, but you just keep walking.

Taglist: @potato-girl99981 @winterrebel04 @caitsymichelle13 @darhk-angel @madkill44 @cherrycola27 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @clockworkballerina  @krismdavis @phantomxoxo @piceous21 @laneyspaulding19 @multifandomfangirll @moron-says-what @rhirhikingston @startrekfangirl2233 @mightiestheroes @awesomebooklover17 @gizmodear @meritxellao @adaydreamaway08 @letsgomamas @midnightzonzz @imaslytherin0 @thesewordsxlibrary @shawnsblue @theficthatwaspromised @lily-jean94 @havlindzk @hypatia93 @madsothree @oneelleandaneye @a-beaverhausen @dempy @alissa3000 @boltgirl426 @bcon24 @inthestars-underthesun @tsnelf7 @nataddz @topguncultleader @harrysgothicbitch @sadpetalsstuff @rogersbarnesxx @loganrwebb @tom-cruiseishot @thewulf @nikfigueiredo @spencvrr @yogabigooby @coldmuffinbanditshoe @tye-dyemango @blahblechblah @keenmarvellover

[werepuppy-steve]

“dad?”

eddie looks up from his book at where his daughter is standing in the doorway to his bedroom. it’s late in the evening, a little past ten. she’s already dressed for bed; one of eddie’s old anthrax t-shirts and pajama pants.

the look on her face and the way she’s using the door frame to hide herself tells eddie there’s something wrong.

“you alright, sweetheart?” he asks, setting aside his book and patting the space beside him. she immediately goes, crawling in next to him like she’s still seven years old and not almost seventeen.

jesus, eddie thinks, his little girl is growing up right before his eyes and he can’t do a damn thing to stop it. she curls into his side and rests her head on his shoulder.

she’s quiet, which isn’t out of the norm for her, but she’s clutching onto the front of his shirt like a lifeline. eddie combs his fingers through her curly hair and smiles as he feels her slowly relax.

“you wanna talk about it?” he asks softly, kissing the top of her head.

more silence.

“when…” her voice is small as she speaks, nervous as she takes a shaky breath. “when did you realize you were different?”

the question surprises him. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she means. when she was born, eddie vowed never to keep any secrets from her, including the ones that could be considered confusing for a four year old kid asking why she didn’t have a mom like the other kids in her class.

still, he needs to be sure so he can quell the curiosity growing in his chest.

“different as in…?”

she huffs and rolls her eyes, not unkindly, and puffs out her cheeks, not meeting his gentle gaze. “when did you realize you were trans?”

oh.

eddie’s eyes widen. he feels like a cold bucket of water was just dumped on him. his brain kind of shuts off for a few seconds because that definitely wasn’t the question he was expecting. he clears his throat and shifts slightly.

“well…” he starts, thinking back. “i was around your age, i think. maybe a little older. why? is that something you’re thinking about, maybe, exploring?”

he looks down at her and his heart breaks at the tears welling in her eyes. “hey, look at me.” he cups her cheek and turns her face toward him. her bottom lip wobbles as she finally looks at him, her green meeting his brown.

he holds her face in both hands like she’s the most precious thing in the world. “you know you can talk to me, right? about anything, especially about this.” he waits for her nod. “and you know that there is nothing in this world, and i mean nothing, that will make me love you any less, you hear me?”

he thumbs away the tears that stain her cheeks and he’s not far behind, himself.

she sniffles and takes a sharp inhale, her eyes still wet and her voice unsteady, “i think…i think i might be a boy.”

a fierceness alights in eddie like he hasn’t felt in a long time. he beams down at her proudly. “okay. what do you want to do about it?”

she frowns. “i…i don’t know yet.”

“that’s alright,” he tells her. “sometimes just putting a name to the feeling is enough for that moment. but when you’re ready, i’ll be here to help you figure it out.”

that brings on a new wave of tears from the both of them and they laugh as they wipe at each other’s cheeks. they settle down into bed, the unspoken agreement that she’s bunking with him tonight like she used to when she was little.

just before he shuts off the light, she says quietly from where she’s burrowed under the blankets, “i love you, dad.”

eddie kisses the top of her head and lays down beside her. “i love you, too, baby.”

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

[scoops-stevie-archive]

"dad?"

eddie looks up from his book at where his daughter is standing in the doorway to his bedroom. it's late in the evening, a little past ten. she's already dressed for bed; one of eddie's old anthrax t-shirts and pajama pants.

the look on her face and the way she's using the door frame to hide herself tells eddie there's something wrong.

"you alright, sweetheart?" he asks, setting aside his book and patting the space beside him. she immediately goes, crawling in next to him like she's still seven years old and not almost seventeen. jesus, eddie thinks, his little girl is growing up right before his eyes and he can't do a damn thing to stop it. she curls into his side and rests her head on his shoulder.

she's quiet, which isn't out of the norm for her, but she's clutching onto the front of his shirt like a lifeline. eddie combs his fingers through her curly hair and smiles as he feels her slowly relax.

"you wanna talk about it?" he asks softly, kissing the top of her head.

more silence.

"when..." her voice is small as she speaks, nervous as she takes a shaky breath. "when did you realize you were different?"

the question surprises him. it doesn't take a genius to figure out what she means. when she was born, eddie vowed never to keep any secrets from her, including the ones that could be considered confusing for a four year old kid asking why she didn't have a mom like the other kids in her class.

still, he needs to be sure so he can quell the curiosity growing in his chest.

"different as in...?"

she huffs and rolls her eyes, not unkindly, and puffs out her cheeks, not meeting his gentle gaze. "when did you realize you were trans?"

oh.

eddie's eyes widen. he feels like a cold bucket of water was just dumped on him. his brain kind of shuts off for a few seconds because that definitely wasn't the question he was expecting. he clears his throat and shifts slightly.

"well..." he starts, thinking back. "i was around your age, i think. maybe a little older. why? is that something you're thinking about, maybe, exploring?"

he looks down at her and his heart breaks at the tears welling in her eyes. "hey, look at me." he cups her cheek and turns her face toward him. her bottom lip wobbles as she finally looks at him, her green meeting his brown.

he holds her face in both hands like she's the most precious thing in the world. "you know you can talk to me, right? about anything, especially about this." he waits for her nod. "and you know that there is nothing in this world, and i mean nothing, that will make me love you any less, you hear me?"

he thumbs away the tears that stain her cheeks and he's not far behind, himself.

she sniffles and takes a sharp inhale, her eyes still wet and her voice unsteady, "i think...i think i might be a boy."

a fierceness alights in eddie like he hasn't felt in a long time. he beams down at her proudly. "okay. what do you want to do about it?"

she frowns. "i...i don't know yet."

"that's alright," he tells her. "sometimes just putting a name to the feeling is enough for that moment. but when you're ready, i'll be here to help you figure it out."

that brings on a new wave of tears from the both of him and they laugh as they wipe away each other's tears. they settle down into bed, the unspoken agreement that she's bunking with him tonight like she used to when she was little.

just before he shuts off the light, she says quietly from where she's burrowed under the blankets, "i love you, dad."

eddie kisses the top of her head and lays down beside her. "i love you, too, baby."

[munsonsreputation]

I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER FOUR: WHAT'S IN OUR SYSTEM

↢ chapter three | series masterlist | chapter five ↣

🎧 soundtrack

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [12K]

warnings: no use of y/n, talks / mentions of mental spiral, fluff overload (everyone buckle up and prepare to be mush by the end)

summary: you and steve find yourselves entangled in something else besides your feelings. all of the fun things — skin and bones, breakfast and laughter, goodbyes and hellos. it’s dizzying, like a drug that flows your systems and should have the both of you wondering if it’s in any of your best interests. it’s not worth denying or thinking other wise… you both know you’ve made promises, now it’s up to you both to keep them.

It’s the same room and the same bed Steve had been spending most of his life sleeping in. Worn out and faded gray bed sheets that were long overdue to be replaced and pillows that lost their fluffiness years ago. His bed was nothing special, just the place where he would burrow under after all his hardest days and battles.

But these days his bed was just a place of hiding — somewhere he would go to in order to pass time hoping he could seek comfort even when he knew he couldn’t.

He’d lay and stare up at the ceiling waiting for his parents to drive off so he could finally go down and make himself some food without being victim to a lengthy lecture.

He’d even bunch up the blankets, using them to cover his ears and drown out his parents arguing, which was usually over something so stupid that could’ve been solved with a simple ‘sorry’ or if one of them finally kept quiet and let the other speak.

He managed to master the art of forcing himself to fall asleep so he could escape it, but it always seemed to follow him in his dreams… all the pent up anxiety about the future and how scared he was that he’d turn out just like his parents.

Stuck in the cycle and forcing everyone to walk on eggshells around him.

It was only really a comfortable bed when they weren’t around, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t lonely.

Hearing absolute silence was just as torturous as hearing his mom and dad fight.

A beautiful home, fully furnished that housed the picture perfect family only for it to be amounted to a place that didn’t feel like home at all. What a waste of space that had so much potential for a joyous family to actually live and create memories in. All it was now was filled with loneliness and nightmares.

But there were always those rare occasions where he could dream up a life that didn’t feel so lonely. A place with someone who he cherished and who felt like home to him — more than any furniture or square footage could make him feel.

Last night was one of those nights and only this time he realized it wasn’t a dream.

Through his sluggish eyes, he could still see the indentation in the shape of you from the night before. The little details of the way your arms had laid against the sheets and how your body shifted during the night. Your… his pillow etched with the silhouette of your head and your hair that sprawled over it.

The covers were partly thrown off to the side with you nowhere to be found. And as Steve weakly drew them up just to steal two more minutes of the morning warmth, he was greeted with a big waft of everything you.

The two minutes in bed didn’t seem enticing anymore. He just wanted to get to you now.

Vanilla filling his senses and coaxing his eyes wide awake.

Jasmine brightened up his energy as he made the bed.

Sweet peaches calmed his limbs as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and got himself freshened up for the day.

It should’ve worried him, the way that you could’ve called Nance and have her bring you to Joyce and Hop’s to get your car and head home. Leaving him without saying goodbye or talking about what happened last night. But the anxiety didn’t seem to run through his veins when it came to you or this… he felt safe and tranquil knowing you were still here.

You had put his mind at ease, promising you would be.

Last night he emerged from the bathroom, bare chested with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his waist. His room was ill-lit, drapes blocking out most of the moonlight, letting only his weak lamp gleam up the corner of the bedroom.

You were already settled and comfortable, fast asleep in his bed. Covers brought up to your shoulders and your knees tucked up, curled like a baby snoozing soundly — or so Steve thought.

He smiled at the sight, content to know that at least you found his bed to be peaceful enough to sleep in. One hand came down to pull the covers up higher over you to keep you warm through the night. His palm lingering over your collarbone, watching and feeling you breathe in and out softly… the memory ingrained in his mind forever now.

“Night, sweet thing.”

It was a muted murmur, the last thing he was supposed to say before he switched off the light and headed downstairs to take the couch, but you had responded.

“Stay,” you stirred softly, shifting against the blankets as you picked up a throaty chuckle. Steve huffing out something about how you almost scared him to death.

But he grinned a tiny bit, crouching down to move the damp strands of hair that covered your cheeks. “You’ve been up this whole time?” he asked quietly, not wanting to invade the tranquil space.

“Mhm,” you crooned, peeping open your eyes to see him through your doziness.

His hair was still wet, itty-bitty beads of water sprinkling his exposed shoulders and the furs on his chest. He looked refreshed, but it was clear that he needed to get some much needed rest.

“We can share the bed, tonight,” you said faintly, bringing one of your hands up from beneath the covers to wrap around his wrist, “please?”

He swore you could feel his pulse in your touch, not that he minded. It felt so raw and so real different from anything he’s ever felt before. Everything about it felt almost sacred, like something out of his wildest dreams just feeling like he was needed by someone when he knew deep down it was him needing you all this time.

“Okay.” He nodded without faltering. He was met with you smiling sleepily at him, finally letting up on his wrist while you moved over to make space for him.

The lamp clicked off, cascading the room with complete darkness as he pulled back the covers and got in beside you. He was careful, putting a few inches between the both of you not knowing if closing it was something you were comfortable with.

“You can come closer,” you whispered quietly, letting your fingertips skim over his arm, letting him know he was alright to do so.

It was almost like second nature, his body drifting closer to you as you closed the remaining millimeters and draped your arms over his. You were like a bear clinging to him, yearning for his warmth and he was pleased to provide it to you on nights like this and forever, for that matter.

“Comfortable?” He chuckled bemused, looking down and seeing your head smushed under his pillow, seeking the proximity the same way he was.

“Extremely.” You sighed contently, breathing him in as your eyes fluttered shut.

Steve’s bed would never be the same, and it’s a sudden pang in his heart when he realized it because now you’ve turned it into a sacred oasis that he never wants to leave.

He swallowed nervously, letting his thumb trace circles over your shoulder. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too…very very happy.” You replied sleepily, letting your head nod against his skin letting the sleep consume you.

Steve didn’t want to ruin the moment, to sound desperate when you were trying to fall asleep and so should he. But he just had to ask… to make sure this wasn’t all in his head even when it was so delicate already.

“Will you be here in the morning?” His voice was shaky, trying to keep it stable and composed.

You didn’t waste another second, more awake than ever, as you opened your eyes and smiled up at him.

“I promise.”

That night there wasn’t any silence or his parents fighting — no agonizing sounds keeping him from feeling like this wasn’t a holy place. It was your breathing, gentle inhales and exhales as he watched your chest rise, wondering if you were dreaming about him. With each passing second that he listened to your breathing, taking it in like a lullaby to his ears, he let his eyes float closed, drawing him somewhere where it was just you and him. 

His footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs that he jogged down, turning towards the living room and into the kitchen where he was met with your back facing him.

You were still dressed in his clothes, a pair of striped boxer shorts rolled over your waistline and an old faded Hawkins track team t-shirt — they both looked better on you than it ever did him.

His cheeks rose, lips tugging into a smile as he approached you. His arms rested on either side of the counter, caging you in, “morning, early bird.”

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased with a giggle, leaning into the peck that he pressed on your cheek before turning to him and frowning deceptively. He looked almost worried, like he might have done something wrong, but then you broke into a grin.

“I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed.” You admitted, turning your head to the dining table where you had already prepared some cut up fruit in a bowl with a side of honey and yogurt you found in the fridge.

He ruined your surprise, yet didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Instead, his heart flocked with fever, blood rushing, and his cheeks beginning to grow sore with how much broader he was smiling now.

Breakfast in bed? An actual meal and not just a piece of toast slathered in peanut butter… not that he would ever mind if you brought him that because he’d eat anything you’d give him. But this just feels other worldly.

“That’s sweet,” he replied appreciatively, letting the smile linger on his face because he was quite sure he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to — all of this was just too much for his heart to handle, “but you could’ve slept in, I wouldn’t have minded at all.”

He’d skip breakfast if it meant he got to lie awake in the morning sunlight and watch you dream until you woke. But he also wouldn’t want to pass out on this, the sweetness of the moment with you being here and doing this for him when you didn’t have to.

You shrugged, setting down the whisk you were using for the pancake batter and letting your arms wrap around his neck, stretching yourself into him in a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms, cradling your back and pulling you closer.

“I wanted to… felt right.” Your words springing against his skin like a million tiny kisses.

Right there in that moment, everything felt right.

He pulled back just enough to see you, a pout playing on your lips not being able to hide away in his neck. “Well, at least let me help. I can make a mean scrambled egg.” He smirked, wiggling his brow as you glanced up at him and giggled.

You rested your chin on his chest, keeping your orbs on him, and you’re sure you looked a mess.

Hair still a little tangled within the hideous bun you tossed it up into this morning. And your face looking dull not having the chance to give it a proper wash and moisturize with your beloved products waiting at your apartment.

You shouldn’t feel your best, but all of those silly insecurities don’t seem to matter, not when Steve is looking at you with fondness in his eyes, like he’s done it a million times before. Taking you in like you’re the sunshine and he’s the flora, leaves eager to soak you in and bask in your rays for as long as you’d let him.

Nothing about this feels weird or nerve racking. If anything, it feels comfortable, like home. A kind of familiarity the two of you just decided to lie in together.

Finally, after all the morning ogling, you answer him. “I’d be a fool to pass out on it, Chef Harrington.”

You tapped your fingertips along the back of his neck and he laughed at the feeling, tucking his chin down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “On it.”

Steve has moved around this kitchen many times before. He’s not the best cook in the world, almost cuts his fingers off every time he tries to finely chop ingredients or nearly burns himself with how hot he lets the pan get. But he knows how to cook food that tastes good and keeps him fed.

But you… you moved around his kitchen like it’s the waltz and you made it look effortless. The way you strode from the cabinets in search of something, eyes lighting up when you found the brown sugar and hugging it to your chest as you stepped back to grab a small bowl. You poured a teeny serving in, rolling the bag shut and striding back to put it where you found it.

You took the gooey eggshells from his hands as you swept past him, discarding them into the trash and giving your hands a wash under the tap before you dried them on a towel resting on the counter. Then you’re back at the stove, peppering a light dust of brown sugar over the raw pancake batter and giving them a flip.

It’s as if you rehearsed it — the rise and fall of every movement you make and how you make the space feel alive even in the early hours. It’s an addicting sight, like something Steve wants to watch over and over again in real time… but only, there are eggs in his pan and he’d be damned if he would mess up the first thing he’s ever cooked for you.

“What’s that for?” Steve cleared his throat with a cough, tearing his eyes from you and turning them towards the stove.

You hummed, facing him and observing how he pulled the raw eggs towards the center of the pan with the spatula. He’s focused — you’re about to have the best scrambled eggs of your life and the slight tip he gives the pan proves it to you.

“It gives them a little crust with some sweetness. That way, you don’t have to use too much syrup and it doesn’t get soggy by the time you’re done cooking them all.” You told him.

“And where’d you learn that?” He asked, taking his eyes off the pan and bringing them straight to yours.

Your shoulders bounced, bottom lip moving over your top one. “Nowhere specific, kinda just experimented, and it worked!”

Steve should’ve known… you’re far better in the kitchen than he is and he’d take all your advice, self taught or read in a cookbook.

“Smart girl.” He complimented with a coy smile as you grinned before you both turned back to the dishes.

The next seven minutes were spent with Steve plating the eggs and you forming a stack of brown sugar pancakes on top of one another. He worked on setting the table, grabbing extra napkins to get close by and making sure you both had clean glasses.

Even when you weren’t at home, you were always trying to be a good host. This time finding yourself in his fridge, moving bottles and containers over as if it would help you find something that wasn’t there.

“Are you sure you don’t want orange juice? I swear I could juice some right now!” You called out, eyeing the fresh fruits that sat in the produce drawer.

Steve barked out a laugh, head shaking, when you turned your head over your shoulder to see him. His eyes pointed to the table, the empty seat that was yours waiting for you. “Stop it! Water is fine… just come to the table, please.”

You huffed defeatedly with phony annoyance, strolling to the table with nothing in hand as Steve already grabbed you both a fresh cup of cold water. He made a scene, pretending to bow as he dramatically dragged your chair out for you while you covered your face and snickered behind them. You took a seat and even let him push you in.

The both of you opt to side by side instead of face to face — it was more comfortable and special that way, even when your knees occasionally bumped under the table.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” Steve spoke suddenly, grasping your wrist and holding it gently.

He said it like you didn’t use all of his groceries and made a mess of his kitchen. Like you were doing him a favor, something he didn’t deserve, when all you wanted to do was show him how much he deserved all the special moments of life, even homemade breakfast.

You grinned timidly, swinging your head as your other hand rested on top of his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “It’s really no problem. You did let me spend the night and take your bed.”

His face fell with feign skepticism. “Technically, we shared,” he countered with a lifted brow.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue. “Okay, yeah, but still! I wanted to do this…really really wanted to do this for you.”

Steve could read between the lines, understanding where you were getting at without actually saying it.

How yesterday the mental spiral had taken a toll on him even after you promised you would spend the night at his. He was particularly quiet, keeping to himself and not having the energy to do much talking, but you didn’t mind, frequently turning to him and offering a comforting glimpse, rubbing a tender hand over his shoulder to ease his nerves.

You didn’t make him feel like there was something wrong with him or try to force him into the conversations when he didn’t want to. Instead, you let him be and made it clear that everything was alright. That you would be there when he felt lost and scared, even if he striked out and had to crawl back home.

He shouldn’t have turned the night he was anticipating into a long road of catastrophic blues. The words the kids had said without thinking should’ve bounced off of him like nothing. But instead he spent the night beside you wondering if how he was feeling was a mistake, if it was really all in his head the way he thought it was, or maybe how wrong and selfish it was to ask you to stay the night.

The whirlwind of uncertainty floating away when you grabbed his hand from under the table and gave it three squeezes when no one was paying attention. It was then and there that he knew you didn’t have any plans to leave… at least not without him.

All of that was true, seeing as though you were here in front of him.

He smiled kindly, eyes full of gratitude for you taking the time to do this for him even if it meant you missed out a few more minutes of sleep. Soon he’d find a way to make it up to you, but he wasn’t quite sure if anything he did would top this.

The two of you plated yourselves some food, digging in and enjoying one another’s presence in the early morning air that enveloped you both. And as per usual, Steve wasn’t subtle when it came to something you’ve made yourself. His fork clinked against the plate after he took a bite of the pancakes, throwing his head back on the chair and moaning loudly as he chewed.

“You’re a dork!” You chided, shaking your head as you laughed and slapped a hand over your mouth.

His head lifted up slightly, patting his bare stomach and giving it a rub. “That’s incredible, you’ve gotta trademark that or something.”

“I don’t think I could trademark food, can I?” Your eyes narrowed, thinking if that was a possibility because it didn’t sound bad.

He shrugged, sitting up straight and cutting himself another piece. “No clue, but you should try it. This is better than the boxed stuff,” he said, popping the fork into his mouth.

“It’s not too tricky, I could teach you how to make the batter from scratch next time?” You offered with a warm smile, eyes showing how genuine you really were about it.

He smiled tightly, nodding his head and speaking with a half full mouth making you grin. “I’d keep the recipe a secret… promise.”

Like something alike, you wanted to keep him a secret, and you’d be his if he let you.

But it would be a shame for either of you to be each other’s secret. Neither of you wanted to hide the other away from the world — far from that, actually.

He’d shout it from the rooftops and you’d paint it in the skyline — how special you both were to each other even after this short time. Have you both known each other for twenty seconds or twenty years?

Neither of you knew nor did you care because all that mattered was the lifetime you wanted to spend together like this. How this morning and last night felt so easy, as if you’ve spent the night in each other’s arms and woke up in them in some past life before.

Time was funny, but you and Steve never minded, not when this kind of feeling was soaring through your systems at an alarming pace.

The table was quiet for a few minutes, just the forks running against the ceramic and tolerable chewing. The two of you were stealing glances at each other when he was too busy spooning yogurt into his mouth and when you stared out the window watching the birds fly by.

Steve dredged his fingers clean, propping his elbow on the table as he watched you pick up the ice cold glass of water and finally tear your eyes away from the window to catch him. 

“How do you like Joyce and Hop?” He proposed, not getting the chance to ask you last night before you both went to bed. 

You gulped down the water, eyes lighting up. “Oh, they’re wonderful! They were really welcoming and made me feel right at home.”

He wasn’t surprised at all; he knew they’d love you and you’d love them — Hop and Joyce practically talked your ear off and you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, grateful that they were keen on getting to know you better without making you feel like you were being interrogated. 

“Hopper didn’t bore you with his do-it-yourself kitchen renovation stories?” He questioned with a chuckle, reliving the vile conversation that came up during the dinner.

You scrunched your nose, catching his drift right away and your shoulders shuddering a bit. “I could’ve gone without knowing he found a huge rat in the walls, but at least now I know if I need an exterminator I could give him a call.”

“Trust me, he would have way too much fun going around and looking for things to fix.” He warned with no actual malice, just preparing you for the dad-mode Hop would be in if the occasion ever arose.

You snapped your finger as if you remembered something.

“Like the lock Max picked! It was pretty impressive, but I think it’s also a major safety issue.” Your voice falling with the realization.

He furrowed his brows, dropping his chin from his fists, face painted with worry and confusion. “Wait, Max picked your lock? When was this?”

“Oh, Robin didn’t tell you?” he shook his head, watching you sit up, “they stopped by that morning after you left and I guess I forgot to set my alarm and they were waiting outside in the hot sun so Max picked the lock to get in.” 

You revealed the situation like it was totally normal for them to be breaking and entering. Meanwhile, Steve’s head was whirling with fear at how easy your lock must have been to pick if they managed to get in even after he was sure he locked it from the inside before he left.

He would definitely tell you later to get the locks changed for safety purposes. 

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, letting his shoulders slump with disappointment. “I swore I told her to stop doing that.”

You lifted your brow suspiciously. “Did she pick your lock?”

“Worse.” He groaned, pinching his eyes shut at the memory from a few months ago. “She picked the lock to the arcade just after closing so she could beat Dustin’s high score on Dig Dug.”

You gasped, eyes widened slightly, and a laugh caught midway through your chest. “Did she get caught?” You asked partly stifled, not believing she could actually get away with it. 

But he shook his head, further surprising you and somehow your eyes got larger, watching as he mimed her actions.

“She went to the back room and deleted the security camera footage before leaving. That’s when Robin and I closed up Family Video and caught her trying to leave out the backdoor.”

“What happened after?” You leaned in closer, waiting for the continuation of the story.

He lifted his hand in a dismissive manner, lips pursing accompanied with a playful tone in his voice, “Oh you know, classic lecture and threats of taking her to Hopper—”

You didn’t look convinced, narrowing your eyes. “She wasn’t scared at all was she?”

“Not one bit,” he deadpanned before smiling defeatedly, “she asked me to give her a ride home and gave Robin a stuffed animal she stole from the backroom.”

“You know she could make a stealthy spy.” You pointed your fork at him before stabbing a piece of apple on its prongs.

He crossed his arms across his chest and sneered, “Oh trust me, she does enough snooping… alllll of the kids do.”

“But they’re all really sweet. They probably all have good intentions and just might have questionable ways of going about it.”

He knew you were right, and yesterday was a prime example of that.

The kids meant well just trying to get him to finally fess up his feelings that had been harboring since the moment he laid eyes on you. Their goal was never to send Steve into such a mental spiral that it caused him to combust internally and detach for the rest of the night. It would be unfair of him to ever think that of them because it was far from what they were.

They all were good kids, cared about each other and wanted the best for everyone they loved, especially him. They all knew how much Steve sacrificed for them, plenty of times of almost getting fired for giving out free ice cream and letting them off the hook for returning their tapes late.

It was about time that they helped Steve in the only way they knew how, which was trying to encourage him to make a move on the girl of his dreams, and they had no idea it would have ended up like that.

He felt like an asshole for the way he acted towards them. They were young and just wanted to see him happy, but instead they saw him moody and petulant.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes glazed over, sitting stiffly in the dining chair instead of the relaxed way he was just moments ago. You reached out a hand, setting it on his forearm and letting it move and up and down.

“Are you okay, Stevie?”

He blinked, instantly melting back into the relaxed state once your touch was on his. A half smile quirking up on the corner of his lips, thankful for your concern and quickness.

“Thought I told you not to worry about me?”

Your concern faded slightly, a warm glint in your eye now. “Thought I told you I would, anyway.”

“I’m never gonna win, am I?” He frowned sarcastically, watching as your hand fell back to the table.

“Nope! Now, what’s on your mind?” You ordered, shifting your body to face him fully with your knees settling against his.

You looked determined to figure it out and try to help him. To get into his mind and kick those worries away. Your elbows resting on your thighs as you kept your eyes on him, patiently waiting until he was ready.

He ran a rough palm over his face, wriggling his shoulders. “Just thinking about how stupid I acted at the party last night. Felt like a ghost with how quiet I was.”

“You didn’t act stupid at all,” your voice filled with confidence while you shook your head, “you just needed a little break and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I felt like an asshole.” His voice trailed off with annoyance with himself. 

“Don’t say that,” you pouted, poking his chest with a disapproving look on your face. “You’re not an asshole.”

He always found it endearing, your ability to always see the best in him, even when he knew he wasn’t at his best. Usually Steve’s always upbeat when it came to the friends and the kids, he’s known to be the friendliest of them all, but last night he felt far from that. As if he was the stranger sitting at the table lost in his own thoughts. 

“You sure?” He asked like you’d ever lie to make him feel better. 

You chuckled, nodding undoubtedly. “I’ve encountered a few assholes in my life and you’re waaaay off from one. You’re like the most non-asshole guy I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” This time a twinge of playfulness came with the question.

Nodding obviously, you leaned closer to him, your face hanging only inches away from his.

“A guy who memorizes a girl’s coffee order and picks up her favorite pastries when she’s far from a morning person?” Your lips curled into a smile. “I’m positive you’re not an asshole.”

Like a force of habit, his palm cradled your cheek, while you continued to stare up at him like he hadn’t been thinking so horribly about himself just moments ago. He was getting lost in your eyes; the ones filled with so much devotion and softness for the moment and how even this is enough for him.

“What if I just so happened to steal that cronut recipe?” He mumbled just clear enough for you to hear. 

You pushed back against his touch, cheek rising suspiciously in the palm of his hand. “Why? Are you hiding it from me? Because if you are, then that’s cruel!”

A dimpled smile broke out on his face, closing his eyes blissfully and swinging his head no. There’s laughter erupting from you and he could feel it in the way the apple of your cheeks leaped against his palm. You didn’t shy away from his hand, letting yourself stick to him like the sweetest honey, and he didn’t care about the mess. 

The real mess was whatever was in your systems.

He finally spoke. “No, but I know a stealthy spy who could help me break in and get it.”

You rolled your eyes, tongue in cheek. “You’re trouble, Harrington.”

The pulse point on his wrists felt your lips before he could comprehend what was happening. Your plush skin grazing his skin lightly, a kind of kiss that felt electrifying even when it wasn’t upon his own lips. It’s innocent yet still all around tantalizing, the urge to tell you that he’s crazy for you on the tip of this tongue more than ever now. 

He was sure before that he’d go through all the trouble if it meant making you happy, but now he’s positive he’d even break into a family-owned establishment to get you that secret recipe – and most importantly, to feel you like this every morning. 

His pulse was undeniably thumping against your lips, though you didn’t mind, letting them stay for a minute until the phone abruptly rang and you were tearing away from his hold, ripping yourself from him like a bandaid that took the skin with it. His wrist began to feel lonely, pulse feeling like it’s dying out not having you there anymore.

To your surprise, you weren’t feeling at all embarrassed, simply just giddy as he cursed apologetically and let his hand fall into his lap as he got up. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here!” You vowed, tipping your head back to watch as he left the kitchen.

It was only seven in the morning and he never got calls this early. Ever. Unless it was the kids. 

“Hello,” he answered, pressing the hunk of plastic to his ear. 

“Hey, kid,” it was Hopper, “how are, umm, you and the girl?” 

Steve peeked back into the kitchen, seeing you finishing up the rest of the cut up fruit. “We’re having breakfast right now. What’s up?”

“Honey! They’re already having breakfast!” Hop called out, sound a bit far away. 

“Crap!” Joyce wailed out in the background. 

Steve laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. If you would’ve called half an hour ago, we’d still be in bed.”

“You guys shared the bed?” Hop inquired, his voice accusing and curious at the same time.

“Well… yeah.” Steve didn’t have any reason to lie, but he was regretting it the second it left his mouth.

“Soooo… s’that why you both left early yesterday?” Hop suggested, sounding more interested in conversing now. 

Steve turned away from the adjoining wall, cupping his hand over the receiver as he spoke sharply. “What? No! We left early because I was crabby and she was getting tired.”

A puff of air came from the other end, Hoppers laugh heavy. “You know you don’t have to lie—”

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up, now.” Steve’s fingers were ready to press the hook switch to end the call. 

“Tell your girl I checked her tire pressure and added some air into her back left wheel, thing was nearly deflated.” 

“Yeah okay, appreciate it. We’ll be there in a few.” 

There’s talking in the background, he could hear Joyce saying something and Hopper attempting to cut her off with ‘yeah’s’ and ‘got' it’s.’

“And Joyce says she’ll save some breakfast sandwiches.” Hop grumbles.

“Okay, thanks, bye.” Steve said rushed, pulling the phone away from his ear.

He placed the phone back onto the rest, shaking his head a bit at the teasing he often faced from Hopper, but it was all in good fun. At times, he felt that Hop and Joyce were more like parents to him than his own. Hell, they knew more about his life than his parents ever did. 

“Who was that?”

He took a seat beside you again. “Hop. I think Joyce made him call to ask if we wanted some breakfast.”

“Oh no, I hope she didn’t go through too much trouble.”

Steve shook his head, reassuring you. “She said she’d save us breakfast sandwiches for when we go and get your car.”

“That’s sweet of her.” You bubble, a smile replacing how apologetic you feel for missing out on her breakfast.

“And Hop said to tell you he checked your tire pressure and filled the back left one up with air.” Steve informed you, watching the way your eyes filled with appreciation and surprise.

“Oh my god, he’s the best! How much do I owe him?”

You’re a lot of things — talented, kind, beautiful, all around down to Earth, but you don’t know much about cars and he doesn’t blame you because they’re boring, but he now realized he can never let you walk into an auto shop alone and let you be victim to those premium air scams.

“Nothing, sweetheart. The air is free, and he just uses a special machine to fill it up.”

“But it must have taken him forever.” You protest with a deep breath, determination behind your voice like you’re sure of it and you want to compensate the old guy.

Steve’s face softened, moving over to clutch your hand and give it a squeeze. “He takes longer to pick up donuts and head into work. Filling up tires is easy peasy for him, I promise you.”

“You sure?” You bit your lip still feeling a bit bad for Hop going out of his way.

He nodded, giving your hand another squeeze. “Positive.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just curious as to why we left early last night. Told him I was crabby, and you were getting sleepy.”

“I wasn’t that tired.” You mumbled.

Steve scoffed, forehead creasing up because you clearly didn’t see yourself how he saw you last night. “Sweetheart, your eyes drooping on the drive home.”

“No, they weren’t!” You half-laughed in defense, palms resting on the table. 

“You fell asleep so quickly last night.” He pointed, roaring at the way you gave in and blushed. 

“I was just really comfortable.” You whined, lifting your eyes away from his in an attempt to stop yourself from looking like a dork. 

“Yeah, you looked super comfortable. You were even snoring a little.”

You shrieked, a small scream coming from your throat and hands covering your face. “Was I?” God, that’s embarrassing!”

He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, working them away from your face without any resistance. Your eyes met with his smile and headshake. “No, it was cute! You’re just lucky you fell asleep first because had you not my snoring would’ve kept you up.”

“I think I’d be able to fall asleep either way. It was so comfy.”

What you really meant to say was that he’s comfy — practically was your space heater and human pillow. You would be a liar if you didn’t think that you were a bit too clingy last night, but he didn’t seem to mind from what you remembered and it felt nice not having to apologize for that. You know Steve would’ve told you if he didn’t like it; he was always honest with you. 

“Would it be okay if I had another shower before we leave?” You watched him stack the plates, getting up and walking them over to the sink. 

“Course! Go and I’ll take care of the dishes.” He replied, taking the bowls you had stacked from your hands. 

You willingly handed them over, following him to the counters. “No, c’mon let me dry and you can wash,” attempting to reach into the drawers to retrieve a clean kitchen towel.

But he blocked you, keeping his hip attached to the wood. “No, go on and shower. I’m not moving till your butt is walking upstairs.”

You both knew he wouldn’t relent, not like the first time you’d stepped into his home and insisted you helped gather plates and cutlery. Things were different now, with time grew comfortability, but also playfulness and ease.

“Fine!” you fussed, trudging away dramatically. 

“Did you need to borrow clothes?” He called out, arms folded over his chest as he watched you.

You halted near the doorway, spinning and wrapping your arms round the frame, smiling stupidly at him. “Please? I would use my clothes, but they still smell like charcoal.”

“Pick whatever you want, and leave the dirty ones in the hamper. I’ll do a load before we leave.”

“Thanks! You’re the best!” You singsonged, making your way up the stairs leaving him with the biggest love sick smile on his face.

The Harrington house has never felt this homey and for Steve it’s a feeling that he never wants to fleet. His fists running under lukewarm water scrubbing dishes that weren’t only used by him but by someone whom he wanted to stay with. The lip print you had left around the cusp of the glass, suds away, and he wondered when was the next time you’d be coming around. 

Clean dishes pile onto the kitchen rag you laid out before you went to shower. He decided to let them air dry instead, making better use of his time by heading upstairs and grabbing the hamper of dirty laundry filled with both yours and his clothes.

Strolling down the hallway, he heard the sound of the running water in the shower accompanied by your hums to a tune he couldn’t pick up from behind the wooden door. Though it doesn’t fail to make him smile, pleased that you felt so comfortable at his place already. Turning into his bedroom, he fetched the laundry basket, twisting back around to head downstairs towards the washing machine. 

Steve had never put much thought into actually taking the time to do separate loads of laundry, honestly just sticking everything in one wash and throwing them in the dryer as any other person would do. He was guilty, a few times some of his white t-shirts would dye a bright green from his work vest but they were replaceable.

It’s only then when your clothes are in his care that he takes the time to read the labels to make sure he’s washing them properly. Your floral long sleeve, safe to wash along with the rest of the other garments. But he doesn’t risk it with the denim overalls, deciding that it’s best for them to have its own cycle to prevent it from fading too much and wearing the material down.

A hefty scoop of detergent goes in with the wash before he clicks start, and the whirling begins.

Your fingers reached for the lotion bottle that sat on his bathroom counter, pumping a dollop into your palm and spreading it across your damp skin. Though it’s unscented, it still smelled like Steve, a hint of him layering itself over the body wash you just used in his shower a moment ago. When the two are paired together, it’s a reminder that you didn’t wash away his touch from last night or this morning, but now you felt like you were reapplying it like a second layer of skin.

You worked the tan buttons that lined the front placket through the buttonholes, leaving the first two undone for a more casual feel, letting it droop down one of your shoulders. Another pair of his boxer shorts, this time light blue colored, rolled up over your hips to fit snuggly.

Running your hands down your sides, you took a deep breath in the mirror, satisfied with the way you looked despite the slouchy fit to the oversized garments. You liked the way you looked in Steve's clothes, no matter how baggy they were on you. 

“Let me fix…this,” you complained to yourself, motioning around your head before tugging your hair out of the bun and letting it fall down your back.

Your fingers worked through the roots, giving them a bit of volume while the other brushed the ends, untangling some of the knots. You sectioned your hair in half, keeping the top half in a little bun in the back of your head while the bottom half flowed down nicely.

Grabbing your damp towel off the counter, you hung it on the rack before hitting the light switch off and opening the door.

“Oops, sorry!” You yelped, running smack dab into Steve’s side as he walked by.

He tsked at himself, immediately stabilizing you by the shoulders. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he paused, the two of you laughing now before he looked down and realized what you were wearing. “Woah, you look nice.”

Your fingers played with the sleeves that nearly covered your palms, looking up at him through your lashes. “Hope you don’t mind. It looked nice.”

Steve shook his head, shamelessly admiring the way it looked on you. He hasn’t worn the button down in a few weeks, forgetting it was even in his closet, but glad you found it and picked it out for yourself. 

“Looks better on you.” His hands rubbed up and down the sleeves before nodding his head towards his bedroom where you followed. 

He headed for his closet, pulling the accordion doors open while you plopped down comfortably onto his neatly made bed, shifting onto your stomach as you observed him. 

“Got any idea on what I should wear?” 

“Dark jeans? Maybe some Nikes?” You suggested, propping your chin up on your arms.

“Nude top half?” He said, and you could feel the smirk in his voice.

You snorted. “Shut up. You’ll look good in whatever you pick.”

He plucked some pieces off the hangers, shutting the doors before turning to you. “Just teasing. I’ll be quick and then we’ll be out of here.”

“Take your time…do you mind if I sketch?” 

You looked towards his desk, eyeing the yellow notepad that sat on top of the rest of his belongings. He nodded, walking up to it and grabbing a pen and pencil and handing them to you. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you!” You took it from him, getting to work as he walked across the hall. 

You didn’t take yourself seriously with the sketch, drawing up whatever you had in your head. It’s what you had woken up to that morning—Steve’s arm slung across your stomach with his face in the crook of your neck. Snores and breaths greeting your skin in the purest kind of way, even if it had gotten you up a little earlier. 

You wished you had a polaroid around to capture the scene, but thankfully your photographic memory wouldn’t ever let you forget it. Such a sight to see the sun peeking in through the cracks of the curtains, spilling a beautiful glow over his back that made each and every single one of his beauty marks stand out – now you were positive you knew where each other was. 

He looked at peace, face no longer sulked and somber like it had been the night prior. The crease between his brow ironed out, not a glimmer of anxiety as he dreamed…if only you could convince him to stay right there forever because you didn’t want to share. 

“Ready?”

Losing track of time when you were lost within the pen and paper wasn’t abnormal, but being pulled out of the trance by a beautiful boy was something new. You peered up from the page, breath hitched as you took all of him in.

A color block polo — dark blue to compliment the wash of his jeans and cream in the center. You liked to think he was matching you in a way. 

“You look really good.” You complimented with a tight smile, capping the pen and rolling off of your stomach. 

“You picked it so thank you.” 

He turned to his drawers, pulling them open to get a clean pair of socks. Unbeknownst to him, you ripped the sketch off the pad, folding it and slipping it under one of the corners of his landline, just enough of it peeking out for him to find later.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving yourself a one over in the hanging mirror before Steve finally shut the drawer and turned back to you. 

“The wash isn’t done yet?” He said, letting you walk in front before he closed his door behind him. 

You hummed out a no, listening closely to hear the slight rumbling of the machine. “I can still hear it running.”

You both stopped at the front door, Steve leaning against the wall as he slipped his socks on and pushed them into his Nikes. Undoing the laces, he knotted them tighter, pulling the strings taut.

“I’ll pop them in the dryer when I get home and give you your stuff the next time I see you?”

“That’s perfect, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.” You assured him, bending down as you strapped your sandals on. 

He waited until you were ready, opening the front door for you and then reaching into his pockets for the keys. With your back facing him, you looked out on his driveway, seeing how the shiny red hood reflected the sunlight. It was practically spotless, not even a smidge of dirt across his front bumper — he must have really adored his car. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how nice your car is.” 

“You know she used to be cleaner before the kids started eating and leaving their crumbs behind.” He told you, his fingers twisted the front door to make sure it was locked, which it was. 

“They’ve got you wrapped around their pinkies.” You nudged him as you walked down his driveway. 

He wiggled the keys in the air. “Wanna give it a drive?”

“HA! You’re so funny.”

“No, I’m serious.” He added, placing the keys in your hands and closing your fingers around them. 

“You’re gonna let me drive your fancy car?” 

He laughed comically, unsure why it seemed so out of this world to you that he would let you drive his car. You’re probably the only person Steve trusted to drive it. You’re responsible, and unlike Eddie, he knows you won’t try to race the other cars on the road. 

“You’ve got your license, which means you know how to operate a car. Fancy or not.” 

“You sure?” You sought again skeptically, giving him one last chance to back out. 

“I trust you. Now c’mon, I’ll give you directions and everything and this time you won’t get lost.” He assured you, walking over to the driver’s side holding the door open for you. 

“You put way too much trust in me, Steve.” You puffed with a weak laugh, walking over to get in.

“Actually, just the right amount.” He patted the top of the hood before shutting the door. 

He held his hands out for your purse, resting it in his lap as you began adjusting the seat and mirrors to your liking. Steve reminded you that it was okay to adjust it as much as you needed, that he would be able to fix it all back to normal later. Before you knew it, you were on the road, driving in probably the nicest car you’ve ever driven in your life while the radio played and Steve gave you directions to Joyce and Hop’s.

“And ladies and gentlemen, we’ve arrived…alive!” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth, announcing it with a deep voice as you giggled. 

“Stop it!” You placed the car into park before nudging his shoulder with a feeble fist.

His hands let up, looking in your direction with a small smile showing up. “I knew you’d do good.”

 “Got my half broken down piece of crap to thank.” You joked, jutting your chin to your less than adorned car parked beside his.

“You know Eddie’s uncle knows a thing or two about cars? Maybe he could check it out one day?”

“Oh my god, please?”

“I’ll call Eds today and see what Wayne can do.” 

“You’re amazing.” 

Steve felt like he’d been reduced to a fit of smiles and sore cheeks all morning, taking in your compliments and passing them back to you. He’s used to people thanking him, but never for the bare minimum parts he promises you he’ll never break. It’s something he could get acquainted with, and he hoped it would never end. 

Within his peripheral vision, he could see the family begin to crowd the porch, watching through the windshield. “Looks like we’ve got a crowd.” 

“I’m not surprised.” You retorted, making the first move to remove the key from the ignition and open the door. 

“Morning!” You hailed out loud, tossing the keys over to Steve as he locked it up. 

“You let her drive your car!” El exclaimed, though you were both pretty sure she meant it as a question. 

“Mhm, she’s horrible, a menace to society. You should arrest her right now, Hop.” Steve answered seriously, patting Hop on the behind with a growing smirk. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You snorted, waking over to give the kids and Jonathan a hug. 

“Had a fun night?” Hop urged, leaning against the post. 

You nodded, looking up at Steve. “More like relaxing… Steve’s shower pressure is perfect, better than the one I have at home.” You informed them, missing the smirks that fell on Hop and Jonathan’s faces. 

Hop stuck his hand out, pushing at Steve’s shoulder roughly. “Oh, I’m sure Steve has the right amount of pressure somewhere else—”

Joyce erupted with a loud cough, picking up your attention and catching her stomp on his foot in the process, while he winced, cursing under his breath.

“Inside!” She blurted, clearing her throat and gesturing to the front door, "I’m gonna give you the dish you brought inside! I just washed and dried it a little while ago.”

“Oh, okay!”

The spectators on the front porch waited until you were out of reach to start talking about what was going through their minds since you and Steve left last night. It was a short goodbye; you thanking Joyce and Hop for having you over and giving everyone else a hug while Steve waited by until you were done. Safe to say, once you both drove off, they all speculated on what was going to happen and why you were really spending the night at his.

“You’re disgusting, dad.” Will scowled, shaking his head with revulsion. 

Hopper ignored him, looking over at Steve. “She’s wearing your clothes.”

“Okay and?” Steve said, looking a little annoyed at how anyone was crediting him for the truth. 

“You two had sex.” He declared flatly, a grin tugging up on his lips as the porch exploded with grunts and obscenities to shut up. 

“Oh, my god!” Jonathan choked on his spit, turning away and laughing.  

“Gross!” El yelped, covering her tomato red face. 

“I think I’m gonna barf.” Will declared, dramatically clutching his stomach. 

Steve rolled his eyes at their ignorance, arms crossing over his chest. “Believe it or not, I don’t need to have sex with her to have a good night.”

“Wow, isn’t that the first?” Jonathan bantered with a satirical inflection in his tone. 

“Is that a hickey on your neck?” Steve narrowed his eyes, pointed at the purple bruise hiding behind his messy hair. 

“I’m definitely gonna throw up.” Will gagged, turning away and covering his mouth.

El frowned, looking down at her chipped nails. “Is that why Nancy didn’t want to paint my nails last night?”

Hop looked between the youngest and the oldest. “I thought she left with Robin after the barbecue.”

“Oh my god, this isn’t about me!” Jonathan stammered, slapping a hand behind his ear to hide the love bite. 

“What happened?” You buzzed, strolling back out to the porch with the glass bowl in hand and Joyce beside you.

Steve grinned wickedly, happy that he got them off his back, turning to Jonathan and smacking him over the head lightly. “Nothing, just teasing him.”

“Speaking of, Jonathan, don’t you need to give her something?” Joyce’s eyes darted to the back of his pocket where the flyer was folded up. 

He reached behind him, passing it over to you, Steve taking the bowl from your hands so that you could unfold it and read its contents. A bright graphic announcement of a farmer’s market that would be hosted in Hawkins next weekend. 

“Nance meant to give it to you last night, but she forgot,” Jonathan began, “We’re trying to get the town rallying behind small business before they all get driven out. She was wondering if you wanted to help out and host a booth.”

“Like a bake sale?” You proposed. 

He shrugged, looking over at his brother for some guidance. “Kinda, but she was thinking of it as a bake sale and art sale combined.”

Will chimed in without missing a beat. “I pitched the idea to Nance, and she seemed to really like it. I could help you manage the booth. I’ll take the art side and you can handle the baked goods, then we switch around the halfway mark.”

“That’s genius.” You grinned, reaching back to rubbing his shoulder proudly. 

“No really, you guys should do it.” Steve supported from behind you knowing that you would be great at something like this. 

El let out a gasp, clutching your shoulder lightly as she wedged herself between you and Steve. “I can help with the money! I’m getting better at counting change!” She spoke bubbly, making you and him laugh.

“Nancy’s covering the whole thing and writing a paper about it. She’s really hoping to get it published.”

You’d help out either way knowing that this was an important cause, but hearing about how Nancy was the leader of this whole thing made you want to help even more. She was so passionate when talking to you about her love for writing and keeping these mom-and-pops in her town up and running — you were definitely in. 

“Well, tell her I’d be happy to help!” You replied warmly, folding up the paper and sticking it in your purse. 

“Great! I’ll let her know!”

You twisted your head, looking over at Hop. “Oh! And thank you for filling up the tire!” 

“No problem, kid.”

“It didn’t take you long, no?” 

“Easy as could be.” The older man assured you with his tongue clicking. 

“Told ya.” Steve smirked, pressing his elbow gently into your side, making you giggle. 

The two of you didn’t notice how the family was watching the way you and Steve interacted like a couple, so oblivious to the small touches and teasing that usually never came with everyone else. It was the kids who stepped forward, breaking up the love dove fest between the both of you. Will slung his arm over Steve’s shoulder and El rested her chin on his shoulder with those puppy eyes that the babysitter could not say no to, even after the meltdown last night. 

“Steve, could you give us a ride to the arcade? Lucas and Max are already there.”

Steve scoffed, glancing over at the other adults around. “You’ve got your parents and your brother here who all have licenses you know.”

“Hop and I are gonna go run errands!” Joyce clapped her hands, gawking up at Hop who snapped out of it and nodded agreeingly.

“Gotta go see Nancy.” Jonathan tried to excuse himself.

It was no use. Steve was ultimately the go-to chauffeur, the best and safest driver who wouldn’t only take them to point A and B, but stayed until they were ready to go back home and occasionally gave them spare change when they ran out. 

“Go get changed.” Steve exhaled, utterly defeated.

El and Will cheered, detaching themselves from his sides before engulfing you in a quick, yet tight hug. “Bye! We’ll see you!” They said before rushing inside. 

“Bye-bye, kiddos.”

Steve looked over at you, tilting his head towards your car. “C’mon, I’ll walk you.” 

You nodded, twiddling your fingers at Jonathan and his parents. “Bye guys, thanks again!”

“See ya sweetie.”

Steve stepped a bit ahead of you, opening the driver door when you clicked the fob before moving towards the back seat and putting the dishware on the empty seats. You waited until he shut the door before reaching up and wrapping him up in a hug. 

Your bodies molded together, like they’ve done times before, holding one another properly like it was routine by now. His face in the crook of your neck while you tiptoed and rested your forehead under his jaw. 

“Drive home safe okay?” He squeezed your back, feeling the skin indent through the garment. 

“I will.” You promised, taking a deep breath of him in, savoring everything right now. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t let anyone beat Max’s high score on Dig Dug.” You spoke half jokingly. 

“I’ll try.” He huffed out against your neck 

“Tell me about it later.”

He gave your back one last gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple before he released you and let you get into the front seat. You hadn’t made the move to close the door yet, just settling in by placing your bag on the passenger seat and twisting on the ignition.

“You still have a full tank?” Steve peered a ways bit in, his focus on the arrow on your dashboard. He got a glimpse of the red light that switched on, making a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later today.

You took a peek, nodding and looking up to meet his gaze. “A little more than half. I should be okay for the drive home.”

“Okay, sorry, just wanted to make sure. Didn’t want you running out on the highway.” He apologized sheepishly, raking a hand through his hair. 

“No, it’s alright, it was sweet.” You giggled, moving up to tuck a stray piece of hair away from his eyes. 

He gulped, your hand still trying to place the piece with his roots. “See you in a few days?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding your head, “a few days.” You agreed, fingertips finally trailing over his cheek and jaw before falling back into your lap. 

“O-okay… great, awesome, get home safe.” He sputtered slightly, eyes still holding yours. 

“You too! Oh, and Steve?” You stopped him from moving away from your car, though he wasn’t making plans to, anyway.

“Yeah?”

“I might have left something on your desk, but you can just check it out later okay?”

“Something important? I can drive down and get it real quick?”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I mean yeah, it’s important, but not that important… well I kinda hope that it is important, to you I mean — sorry, am I rambling?”

“Not at all.” He said, biting back a chuckle. 

“Just…just check it out when you get home okay?” You asked, voice fluttering with desperation like you needed him to find it. 

“Promise.”

You took a deep breath in, smiling wistfully and feeling your chest tighten having to say goodbye. “See ya, Steve.”

“I’ll see you, cupcake.” He assured you, tapping the hood of your car and shutting your door gently.

It’s been hours since this morning. The day slowly dwindled into night by the time Steve parked his car in the driveway and unlocked the front door. He was only able to pop in for a few minutes before he brought the kids to the arcade, throwing the clean laundry into the dryer and saving your overalls for when he got home. Slipping his shoes off, he made a beeline to the laundry room, tossing the denim material into the machine before emptying the dryer and taking the basket with him.

“Fuck,” He spat, stubbing his toe near his desk in the darkness before clicking on the lamp for a little bit of light.

He dropped the basket onto the floor, making plans to fold and put them all away before he went to bed. But eyes caught the bright yellow paper tucked under his home phone, crimped into fourths with his name written in a heart on it.

It was you who left it and he knew it. His hand springing forward and nearly toppling the phone off the desk all together as he seized it and swiftly opened it up without ripping.

A sketch of you and him in bed. You’re lying awake, facing towards him with your hands resting on his arm that’s sprawled over your stomach. His face is partly hidden in your neck, yet you’ve detailed everything like the bridge of his nose and the curve of his jaw. Even the freckles that litter his skin are dotted in the blank ink. Glimmers of sunlight created with the gray graphite along with the creases of the bed sheets covering the bottom half of your bodies.

Even for a sketch, he knows this is unreal, the talent you have, insane for drawing this up in the matter of his fifteen minute shower. He should have been looking at himself, appreciating how much thought you put in to making sure it looked exactly like him, yet he’s looking at you.

How you’ve drawn your face with somehow all the emotions that he can feel through this piece of paper. That while he was asleep dreaming of you, you were awake watching him. It’s intimate, like you’ve let him know what you’ve both been feeling all this time and finally confessed.

In the prettiest and neatest handwriting he’d ever seen, you had left a message in the blank corner.

‘You look pretty when you’re sleeping, Stevie. Not gonna forget like an idiot this time… xxx-xxx-xxxx.’

Steve had never picked up the phone and dialed so speedily that he had to hang up and redial, totally messing up and pressing the wrong numbers the first time.

It’s been hours since you departed Hawkins. The drive back to Roane was uneventful but still smooth, hitting no traffic and even crunching enough time to stop by the diner to say hello to Dorothea and catch her up on life.

You had spent the rest of the day fueled with energy and anticipation. The second you walked into your apartment you felt a spark of motivation. Something calling you back to the piece you had abandoned only 24 hours ago. Now you had a clear mind and no thoughts of feeling like the sketch looked like garbage — even if it was a flicker of false inspiration, you’d take it.

Half of the sketch had already been painted by the late afternoon. Different shades of browns you had mixed together for the golden crust of the pie as well as the lattice design you had freehanded. Only parts of the cherry filling had been painted with a red too red for your liking, but you’d go back in tomorrow to refine it instead of beating yourself up then and forgetting about the progress you had made.

You were trying to be nicer to yourself.

Little progress still meant progress, and that was the one thing that mattered. That finally something in your system was flowing the way you wanted it to, and part of you felt like it was Steve. Possibly his reminder echoing in the back of your head that the act of trying was literally you trying, and that in itself was good enough.

You were good enough and the progress you made was good enough.

Breathe. Take it in. Breathe out. Take it in.

The act of you literally doing breathing exercises in front of your painting could’ve been seen as narcissistic. Maybe it was? But for you, it meant something a lot different. It was you patting yourself on the back for what you did and making mental notes of what you could’ve improved on without openly criticizing yourself so harshly.

You were so good to other people; you had to find it in yourself to be good to you. To treat you the way, you treated others — how you complimented everyone for doing their best and how you should’ve been doing the same all this time.

It was never too late to break down that old system….to grow and be better.

You had walked away from the canvas minutes ago, busy in the kitchen grabbing a little snack and figuring out what you were going to have for dinner or even if you had any energy left to make some. A hot bag of popcorn came out of the microwave and you popped open a soda, going to sit at the table for a little downtime before—

RING! RING! RING!

“Eeeek!” Squealing you nearly tripped over the coffee table, rushing towards the phone juggling your snacks as you struggled to figure out what to do first — put everything down or answer the phone. 

“Hello!” You answered nearly out of breath yet cheerfully, gasping quietly as you caught your can of Coke before it tipped over and made a mess. 

“Hey!” Steve’s voice rang through the other line, and he sounded just as delighted. 

“Steve! Hey….” you paused, catching your breath, “y-you found my sketch?”

“It’s my newest prized possession.”

“I missed you… I-I mean, I missed hearing your voice. We literally just saw each other this morning.” 

Somehow it felt easier to talk to Steve in person rather than on the phone–even if it meant he could physically see you blushing and smiling like a maniac. Yet he found it cute, how you tried to cover your tracks as if he didn’t feel the same way and could imagine what you looked like right then.

“I missed you too — you’re voice and you.” He said, making you smile wider.

“What are you up to?” You asked, getting comfortable on the floor.

“Laying in bed, still looking at the drawing while talking to you.”

“Are you sleepy?” You wondered, realizing the hour and the day he must have had.

“No! Sorry… I just didn’t want you to think I’m tired. I mean I am tired, but I’m not tired enough to not want to talk to you.” He said convincingly, though his stumbling over words made you second guess it.

“You can always sleep if you want to…we could talk tomorr—”

He cut you off with an abrupt disapproving hum. “Don’t even think about it!”

You giggled, shoulders rising and falling comfortably before you started up. “You’ll never guess what I did today!”

“Steal the cronut recipe?” He guessed without skipping a beat.

“Oh my god, no!”

“Fineee tell me.”

“I painted!” You exclaimed, voice rising higher, “like actually. really. painted. something with my own hands and I didn’t look at it and think “wow this looks like shit,” I did it!”

You sounded proud of yourself, and he hoped you were feeling that just as much on the inside. Only a week ago, you were tearing yourself apart in the diner where you sat across from him, and he could do nothing but speak encouraging and honest words to you, hoping you’d see it through the way he did.

If he was there, he’d give you the biggest hug in the world then take you out to the diner. This time he’d actually grab the bill before you could and bring more quarters so you could play an unlimited amount of love songs and dance with him until your bellies were full and your legs were tired.

You wished he was here.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s great! What’d you paint?”

You swallowed, peering up at the canvas that was drying. “It’s uhh… it’s a surprise!”

“Surprise?” He said, literally taken by surprise.

“Yeah! So I can’t tell you.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it… maybe soon?”

“Fingers crossed.”

That was enough for him… a promise that one day, whenever it may be, he would get the chance to see it with his very own eyes instead of just hearing about it. He already knew he’d be complimenting it and you for days on end, you’d probably get sick of it, but he wouldn’t.

“You’ll never guess what happened today.” Steve began shuffling a bit on his bed to get comfortable.

You gasped, reaching for your popcorn and tossing some in your mouth. “Did Dustin beat Max’s score?”

“Worse.” He said behind a strained laugh.

“Oh god.”

“Mike did!”

You slapped your hand down on the coffee table, making him chortle on the other line, knowing you’d react like this. “Oh, my gosh! Tell. Me. Everything!”

“It’s a long one.” He warned you, hoping you had the time to give him.

You scoffed jokingly, grabbing your snacks and leaning back on the couch cushions. “I’ve got all night, Harrington.”

Your midnights. Your mornings. Your afternoons. He hoped he could have them all... he wasn't sure if it was too soon for all of that, if the idea of having them already thought up in his mind was cool or not.

But he'd just have to hope that everything... all of this, you and him.

It was delicate, but it didn't always have to be.

“Lucky me.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: how are we all feeling after that? i know i am kicking my feet wishing i had a steve to treat me so soft and nicely! ugh, guys this is probably my most favorite chapter i've written so far -- i really wanted this chapter to focus on domesticity and the softness between glitch reader and steve!!! my heart and soul is always alway so thankful for the wonderful effie aka @translatemunson who is always giving me feedback and helping me proof-read...i literally could not do this without her so thank you so much bby, i love you!!! 🥹💘 i really hope you all love this chapter as much as i do...isn't it just so delicate?!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3 @claireiscrying @we-out-here-simping @dreamerjj

[vinnywinnii]

Viktor x reader angst

(TW: mentions of mommy, daddy issues, trauma, attachment, ED, SH.) (contains comfort from viktor as well.)

You've always been quiet, not speaking for anything. You recently escaped a toxic household, yet your parents still show up on his doorstep to see you since you moved in with him. They seem nice, but he knows it's a lie. He hears the arguments, the amount of manipulative phrases your mom uses every time she yells. Its a lot different when your dad comes around, though.

Your dad yells, he doesn't try to hide it. He yells a lot louder than your mom. Yet, you don't fight back when he yells at you. You always have an insane amount of fear in your eyes, always glancing over at Viktor when your dad is yelling at you. If it gets bad, like your dad may hit you; Viktor always kicks him out and comforts you.

You flinch when someone raises a hand, you get silent when someone raises their voice at you, you try not to cry every time you hear yelling.. he pretends not to notice, but it's very noticable. You sometimes go days without eating if anyone mentions how you've eaten a meal. You don't wanna seem like you want everything to yourself, so you always offer your meals to kids on the streets of the under city when you go down to visit.

you're a good person, and you sacrifice everything to make everyone happy.

"Sweetie, I'm home." He says, walking into the room you guys share. He smiles softly down at you, seeing you under a blanket and moving a little. "Sleeping?" He says as he slowly uncovers your face. He looks really tired, he overworks himself a lot.

He feels more refreshed to see you and he steps back, changing into more comfortable clothes to fall asleep.

"Vik, I really love you." You say, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. You don't sleep well without him and you need to hug something to fall asleep, usually a stuffed animal.

He glances over with a surprised look when you say that, his face warming up and his smile widening a bit. "I love you too.. you're very lovely." He says after a moment. You struggle telling him that since you're afraid of him leaving. you saying that to him, especially after a long day at work; made his day.

"could you say it one more time, please.." you ask quietly, your voice cracking a bit. You don't wanna cry, to be seen as a burden. You wanna hear it one more time, just to reassure yourself.

He takes note of your voice cracking and he immediately takes a step closer to your spot sitting up on the bed. He smiles softly at you, tilting your face up. "I love you, sweetie." He says gently, looking you in the eyes so you know it's true.

You feel tears fill your eyes and you chuckle softly as tears fall down your face, hiding your face. "I'm sorry." You whisper, crying into your sleeve.

"hey, don't worry about it. I know you struggle.." he whispers, kissing your forehead gently while his palm is still holding your face. "..but I'm here for you, my love." He says as he now kisses your cheek.

"Now come on, I know your tired. I'll make you some dinner and we'll go to sleep a bit earlier." He says gently, holding out a hand for you to grab so you can walk with him to the kitchen. You guys end up walking to the kitchen and you sit at the table, watching him cook.

"Want me to help? I don't just wanna sit here and watch you cook for me." You chuckle, standing up and walking over to him. He looks over at you and smiles.

"you're very sweet, you can stand here and watch me cook. I don't want you moving even a finger, I know you haven't eaten much this week." He replies, his tone growing a little more serious. He cares about you, and he always wants to take care of you. No matter what.

You shrug and look away for a moment, you don't like when he worries. Once the dinner is done, he sits next to you and he rubs your back to comfort you.

"Are you doing alright? I promise you can eat in front of me and I won't judge at all." He reasurres, catching a glimpse of the old self-harm scars on your wrists. It saddens him to know what you've had to do to cope with your parents and people around you that treated you badly.

You don't seem to notice, but you do take a few bites before pushing the plate away. It's not bad food, you just struggle with eating correctly. He smiles at you eating and he kisses your forehead oncemore.

"Could you eat just one more bite for me, sweetie? Just one more.." he says softly, encouraging you to eat just a little more. He likes taking care of you, it comforts him a bit.

You nod after a bit of hesitation, taking one more bite before pushing the plate away once again. Viktor smiles at you, patting your back gently. "That's it, you've done good. If you want more, just tell me and I'll heat it back up in a bit." He says softly, smiling down at you.

You nod and smile weakly up at him, hugging him and burying your face into his chest. He holds you there after a while and he soon holds a hand out for you to grab and walk you to your guy's bedroom. The moment you get into the room, you flop onto the bed and groan with a tired tone.

He chuckles and lays next to you, pulling you closer and resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'm proud of you, you did good today.." he whispers, stroking your hair.

[toasttt11]

sister

June 11, 2022

Grace Smith pulled into the driveway coming home from her semester at Boston College, she left her bags in the car not really caring to get them as she wanted to see her family specifically her little sister.

Grace opened the front door and smiled walking into home, “Mom, Dad, Annie!” Gracie called out to her family.

“Oh darling!” Colleen gasped happily hurrying to her eldest daughter and pulled her into a tight hug, she rocked them back and fourth in the hug.

“Hi mom.” Grace smiled widely hugging her mother back.

“Dad.” Grace smiled hugging her dad.

“Hi Grace.” Bill smiled holding the back of her head pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Where’s Annie?” Gracie smiled looking between her parents wondering about her little sister. She watched them share a look and their smiled fade slighty.

“In her room, she uh hasn’t left much since we’ve been home.” Colleen told her eldest daughter, they knew something happened before they left Michigan with the way Gabe left the house with out a goodbye or how sad Ryan looked before he left and Willa didn’t come say bye to Ryan.

“Something happened?” Grace looked worriedly at her parents she was wondering why Willa was not answering her but figured she was just out on the water and off her phone.

“We’re not exactly sure what.” Bill explained, Grace nodded and turned around heading down the hallway and up the stairs towards Willa’s room, she knocked on Willa’s blue door and paused waiting for a sound but didn’t hear any, Grace opened the door seeing her little sister under a pile of blankets on her bed.

Grace walked into her room shutting the door behind her. She walked over sitting on the bed next to the lump of a body and pile of blankets, “Hi Annie.” Grace smiled softly talking towards the pile of blankets, Grace has always called Willa, Annie after her middle name Annabella.

Willa didn’t move nor did she make any sound, Grace just smiled fondly use to Willa hiding and being silent whenever she was upset and didn’t want anyone else to see that.

Grace pulled the edge of the blanket and plopped down next to Willa pulling the coverts over her head, she frowned seeing the dry tears scattered across Willa’s face.

Grace knew questing her sister would not get her to open up so she put her arm over Willa and pulled her little sister closer letting Willa cuddle to her and just say there silently under the blanket holding her sister.

Willa and Grace laid there for a while in comfortable silence before Willa spoke up in a quiet whisper, “I like Ryan.” Grace hummed having already known that, “And Gabe.” Willa whispered admitting it out loud. Grace hummed slighty not all that suprised as she has seen and heard how fond Willa is of Gabe.

“That’s what’s wrong?” Grace gently proded, Willa shook her head soflty.

“No, they both like me back.” Willa voice cracked with emotion, she’s been overwhelmed for a while now because of this, “And i don’t want to hurt them, they are my best friends.”

Willa would be crushed is she lost her best friends, when Willa loves she loves hard and she is very passionate about the people she cares for her.

“Oh Annie, you’re allowed to like both of them and they have to understand that you’re not trying to hurt them and you’re coming from a good place.” Grace reassured her little sister while a thought popped up in the back of her mind as a solution for the three.

“But what if-“ Willa protested looking at her sister.

Grace gently cut her off, “Shush, Annie it’s okay to like more than one person. You have such a big heart i would be surprised if you only loved one person.” Grace pressed a soft kiss to her little sister’s forehead.

“Come on let’s get you packed.” Grace pulled the blanket off of them and pulled Willa off the bed.

“Do i have too.” Willa groaned looking up at Grace with puppy eyes.

“Yes we are leaving tomorrow.” Grace gave Willa a stern look, The Smith’s were heading out to their vacation house.

“Ok.” Willa reluctantly got off her bed and followed her big sister to her walk in closet.

Grace pulled out Willa’s suitcase and opened laying it down on the floor, Grace hummed looking through her little sister’s clothes and started picking out some putting them in to the suitcase.

Willa just sat on her closet floor watching her sister pack her bag, Grace has always packed Willa’s bag because Grace has always enjoyed packing and organizing things and Willa never cared if Grace did it.

“This is cute!” Grace wiggled her eyebrows teasingly at her little sister, as she held up a blue and white bikini.

Willa just fondly rolled her eyes at her sister.

Grace zipped close the suitcase picking it up, “There!” Grace smiled proudly at Willa.

“Thank you.” Willa smiled nodding her sister, Grace just smiled and walked over putting her hand out for Willa to grab and stand up.

“Alright you feeling better or do we need smoothies?” Grace smiled softly throwing her arm around her sister and ruffling her hair. Grace and Willa always go get smoothies when they are having a bad day.

Willa let out a fond chuckle, “I think we need smoothies.” Willa smirked with a false seriousness.

“I think you are right dear sister of mine.” Grace nodded back with a serious face, “Get you shoes and meet me downstairs!” Grace called back as she walked out of Willa’s bedroom.

Willa just fondly smiled shaking her head, she walked over to her desk where she left her sandals, she slipped them on before she saw her phone light up, and she looked at her phone seeing a lot of notifications and a lot from Gabe and Ryan not surprising her at all because she knew both of them were to stubborn to stop talking to her.

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Childhood friends AU, but like, Narnia.

Simon liked to hide under his bed. Or- that’s what his dad taunted him about. He thought of it more as making his own room.

He had one, technically, but it was empty and dull, hardly seemed his at all. He’d seen kids rooms on TV, and they’re always colorful, warm.

So he carved out a smaller one for himself under his bed. There isn’t anything under it besides a few dust bunnies, and he cleaned those with a damp cloth. He put a few blankets underneath, a pillow, and his favorite books. It was calming there, in his new "room".

He tried his best not to fall asleep there, though, because he’s already a bit taller than his classmates for 8 years old, and he doesn’t want to hit his head when he wakes up. But accidents happen, as much as he wished they wouldn’t, and he fell asleep.

When he woke up with a jolt, he hit his head like he thought he would. He groaned quietly and then froze, because his bed above him was moving. He crawled over to squeeze out from underneath it, but before he can put more than his hand out, a set of eyes appeared. He shrunk back, startled. Because those weren’t his dads cold eyes or his brother's defiant ones or his moms tired ones.

They were gray, for a start, and even more, so they were full of life. From the small but he could see they belonged to a boy about his age, brown haired, who seemed to hanging off the side of his bed.

“Are you the monster under my bed?” The boy asked.

Simon was too startled to say much, just sat there under the bed.

“What’re you doing in my room?” He asked again.

“What’re you doing in my bed?” Simon managed.

“It’s not your bed, it’s mine.” He said, like it wasn’t impossible. “I’m John, by the way. My friends call me Johnny.”

“Simon.” He offered back. The bed moved more above him, like the other boy was sitting up.

“Do you wanna sit up here?”

Simon didn’t answer, only shimmed out from under the bed and sat down next to him, pulling his knees to his chest.

There was more moonlight in the room than he'd seen during his brief glance. It was clear to see it was indeed not his bed or his room. This room was one of a happy child. There were toys and drawings and posters, thing brought in by John assumably.

But there were also things that clearly showed attentive, adult help. The ceiling, too far up for a child to reach, was covered in stars that glowed softly. There was wallpaper, modern wall paper on the walls that’s someone must bed put up. It was homey, in a way Simon's room wasn’t.

“Why were you under my bed?” John asked him, still staring at him. Simon wasn’t sure he liked it, his parents never looked at him much, it made his skin feel raw.

“I was under my bed, the last I checked.”

“Why were you under your bed? That’s weird.” Simon felt a twinge of embarrassment at that.

“I was reading.” He said, somewhat defensively.

“Okay, why did you wake up here?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, I think that part's wicked cool, it’s like Narnia.”

“What’s that?”

“Narnia? It’s a book- well, the book's not called Narnia, the place is. Here, I’ll show you.”

John hopped off the bed as he said it, scrambling quietly but still loud enough to make Simon wince.

“Be quiet.” He hissed, and John looked back at him confusedly.

“Why? If my parents wake up, all they’ll find is us reading.” His head tilted, confused.

“But they’ll find me, won’t you get in trouble?” Simon couldn’t figure out what he didn’t understand.

“Maybe, but I’ll just tell them what happened, and it’ll be okay.”

“But you’ll be in trouble, I don’t want to get you hurt.”

“Hurt? Why would I be hurt- my parents would just ground me. And you’re here anyway, so that wouldn’t do much.”

Simon was confused now, John just hopped back on to the bed and flipped through a not inconsiderable thick book.

“Here.” He said, and pointed to the title.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Simon said nothing for a long time, just read. Soap interrupted occasionally with commentary, and Simon found it less annoying than he might’ve if it was someone else. Eventually, Simon's eyes started to droop, and John started to yawn every few paragraphs.

“Should you go home?” John asked him. Simon curled in on himself a bit tighter.

“I don’t how.”

John sidled closer to him, bumping his shoulder a bit. It was odd, Tommy used to do the same thing when they were younger. It was meant to be comforting, Simon couldn’t tell if it was.

“Well, look at the story. You came here under my bed, maybe you could go back the same way.”

“But I was asleep, I don’t know how I got here.” Simon said miserably.

“Have you gotten here anytime you were awake?” He asked. Simon shook his head.

“Maybe that’s the secret, you have to be asleep to travel.”

“I don’t know if I can fall asleep, under your bed's much less cozy than under mine.”

“I can put my blanket under there, and some pillows.” John insisted.

“I don’t want to take your pillows.” Simon said tiredly.

“Then I can sleep under there too.” Simon blinked owlishly at him? “Why?”

“Because that’s where my blanket is. And besides, people sleep better around other people.” John said the last bit like he was parroting an adult.

“Why would you do that for a stranger?”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re the monster under my bed.” John grinned. Simon didn’t know what to say to that, so he just got up off the bed.

John grabbed his pillows and his blanket. Simon squeezed under the bed before him, so John wouldn’t be trapped. The other boy crawled in after him, pushed a pillowed to Simon's side and pulled the blanket in over both of them.

“Good night Simon.”

“Good night John.” “My friends call me Johnny.”

“Am I your friend?” “Of course, we’re having a sleep-over.”

Simon didn’t remember falling asleep, and when he woke up, he was under his own bed. He almost thought it was a dream for a few moments. Then he looked over to where Johnny had been sleeping, and he noticed a book.

The Chronicles of Narnia.

He didn’t remember Johnny bringing it under the bed with him, but it had been very dark. He didn’t smile, but he opened the first page and began reading.

[broken-clover]

1- New Beginnings

October got here fast, my goodness! But I guess that means it's time to start Comfortober. I did break my own rules a little while I'm still getting used to things, this one's a bit over 1000 words so I'll put it under a readmore for cleanliness.

To nobody's surprise, I'm starting with an obvious pick of Bedman and Delilah. I like to think about what their relationship was like as really little kids and if he was always so enthusiastic about his job as a protective big brother.

-

He didn’t want a sibling. It didn’t matter how many times his parents tried to get him to see it their way, tried to make him love the idea, tried to make him love her, it hadn’t changed anything. Romeo didn’t want a baby sister, and he hated that he had one.

No energy was spared in making that very, very clear. He shoved her away when she got too close, put her toys on a shelf too high to reach, even when she managed to stand, and dumped her clothes in the toilet. Chiding and scolding him hadn’t worked even after several tries, so now all it got him was a few pointed words while whichever parent closest by fixed the mess he caused, whether it be something to clean or a fussing Delilah to calm down.

The one blessing was that she was quiet. She cried, but never said anything useful. Mom and dad had been fretting lately about how she still didn’t speak, but that suited him just fine. In fact, they had said that he had learned to talk very early, so that was something he could hold over her. He was so much smarter than she was, and that softened the frustration of having to share everything with some dumb baby, just a little bit.

He didn’t even have his own bedroom anymore. Once she’d finally started sleeping for more than a little while at a time, Delilah’s crib was moved out of their parent’s room and put right in the place where he liked to put his favorite stuffed sheep. They must have done that on purpose just to punish him. He didn’t understand why he had to share everything now. He hadn’t wanted a baby sister, so why was it his problem? Why did he have to deal with her waking him up in the middle of the night with her annoying crying?

What woke him up tonight, however, wasn’t Delilah’s crying, but a harsh thunderclap and the sound of the nightlight fizzling out.

Romeo jerked awake, hiding under his blanket and peering out into the darkness. Ah. The storm. Rain and clouds had started to roll in around dinnertime. Their house’s energy supply wasn’t very good, and bad storms in particular often shorted out the power. He’d sat through a few before, it didn’t tend to last very long until mom or dad went into the basement to reset the circuit.

He wished one of them was there with him to make sure everything was okay, but he could handle himself for a little bit. Dad left a flashlight near the door. He shimmied out from underneath his quilts and carefully stretched his legs to make sure his feet were actually on the floor.

It was hard to see anything. The clouds outside only let in a little bit of moonlight, and without his glasses, all he could do was squint and feel along blindly. He tried not to look in the direction of where he knew the closet was, even though the nightlight was out, he wanted to believe it wouldn’t be long enough for the thing in the closet to come slithering out. And if it did, he was sure it would eat Delilah first.

His little fingers wrapped around the flashlight. As soon as he tried to pick it up, something wrapped around his leg.

Romeo yelped, kicking at whatever had touched him to the point of stumbling over and landing on his butt. He thought to switch the flashlight on, but what greeted him wasn’t a shadowy tentacle monster trying to drag him into the closet, instead…

“H-how did you get out?!”

Silly question, it wasn’t like she was going to give him a real answer. Delilah continued clinging onto his leg, even as he stumbled to stand up again. Falling over had really hurt, he almost wanted to slap her, but he was just glad enough that it wasn’t the closet monster.

He watched her dark little eyes go back and forth. “Mmm…”

“What are you looking for?” Romeo asked. “I know you aren’t smart, but you’ve seen the power go out before. Why are you surprised?”

“Muh-”

“Mommy is fixing the circuit breaker, she’ll be back in a minute. Just stop babbling and she’ll-”

“Mi-mi?”

He blinked. “Mommy will be back soon.”

“Mi-mi…?”

“No, Mom-my.”

To his confusion, Delilah started grabbing at the skirt of his pajamas. “Mi-mi!”

“I’m not mommy. I know you’re stupid, but you should still be smarter than that. I’m Romeo.”

“Mi-mi!” She chirped once more

”Romeo.” He insisted back. ”Roh-mee-”

“Mee-mee!”

“...Oh.” Romeo realized he was shining the flashlight in her eyes, and moved the beam elsewhere.

A bolt of light briefly lit the room, and a thunderclap shook the walls. He covered his ears to block out the noise, and felt Delilah cling onto his leg even harder. When he pulled his hands away, she was still stuck tight and shaking.

Romeo looked between her and the window. “Are you…afraid of the storm…?”

She hiccuped, already on the verge of tears. “Mi-mi…”

A strange feeling was brewing in him. The thought would have angered him not ten minutes ago, but he placed a hand on her head and tried to pat it gently. “Do you wanna sit under my blankets? They keep out noise.”

Though she didn’t let go, he could see her nod. He limped back to bed with her still on his leg, finally getting Delilah to loosen her grip when it came to climbing up. Her legs were too short, so he gave her a little boost to make it all the way up. She immediately burrowed under his blankets, and he followed.

He shone the light against the fabric above their heads. Another rumble outside made the bed tremble, and Delilah squeezed her eyes shut. Romeo felt around under the covers until he found his sheep plushie. The toy was placed in her lap.

“You can pet him. He eats your bad dreams and scary stuff so you can sleep. Dad says so. He’ll eat the lightning so you can sleep.”

His sister cooed, mushing her face against it.

“D-don’t get drool on it! And you only get to borrow it for tonight! It’s still mine!”

He shouted, but he felt no real malice to it like he had before. Delilah was small and flimsy, so he supposed it had to be someone’s job to watch after her until she wasn’t anymore.

By the time the nightlight flickered back on and the light in the hallway streamed under their bedroom door, Delilah had long fallen asleep, with one hand gripping his doll and the other still clinging to him. Romeo made no attempt to move either of them.

[elfboyeros]

Christmas Morning

I woke up with a sore throat and fluid in my ears today, so Indigo gets a headache! Also, I feel like we knew it would become this… The “Christmas Oneshot” not being something big yet just Calvin and Indigo fluff.

Fun fact: The picture I described Calvin having as his lock screen is basically the description of an actual picture of my mom, and inspired by my dad whose lock screen is a pic of my mom on their wedding day!

Happy Holidays!

Even without opening his eyes, Calvin knows it’s too early to be awake. Hiding under many blankets and quilts, finally opening his eyes, the littlest of light peeking through the curtains. Groaning ever so slightly, he rolls on to his side sling an arm around Indigo’s sleep frame, pulling her close, kissing her cheek.

He watched her lips from into a smile, as she adjusted herself to face him, “What time is it?” she muttered.

“Too early.”

Indigo hummed, as Calvin kissed her softly, “You can go back to sleep,” he muttered.

“If you stop taking, I might.”

“I thought you loved the sound of my voice,” he chuckled.

Indigo giggled, finally opening her eyes before quickly shutting them and groaning, “Migraine?” Calvin asked.

She nodded, lovely winter weather, a true ass kicker and one of the many sources of Indigo’s days long migraines, “Lay on your back,” Calvin requested, before she laid on her back and he put his hand over her forehead and eyes.

“Thank you…” Indigo sighed.

“No problem angel, go back to sleep.”

She nodded, rolling over her hand digging her face in her pillow. If she wasn’t suffering from a headache he would be offended, though he’s glad she fell asleep quickly. Yet, he now can’t fall asleep, left to lay stare at the ceiling, but the bedroom door opens, followed by the pitter patter of tiny feet, at the side of his bed.

“Papa?”

“Hey, buddy,” he cooed seeing his son with his little squid plushie, his big eyes starring up at him, wet and full of tears, “What wrong, Finnie?”

“Nightmare,” the four-year-old muttered, being lift into his fathers, strong embrace.

“Oh, it’s alright,” Calvin cooed, holding his son in his son in his arms before sitting him in-between himself and Indigo, “There you go, bubby, snuggle come to maman, all you bad dreams will go away.”

Finnegan hummed, as Calvin settled back into his bed, although his son struggles close to him rather than his mother, as he reaches for his phone and turning it on.

“Maman pretty,” Finnegan muttered.

Calvin smiled, staring at the picture of Indigo from the day of their wedding, in her pink dress, her fingers intertwined together with her index fingers touching her chin making a triangle shape with their wedding bands resting on the top of her fingers, as her gaze is downward.

“Yeah, maman, is pretty,” Calvin replied.

“Do you love maman?” Finnegan asked quietly.

“Of course, sprout, I love her very much,” Calvin answered, figuring about what he was going to look at on his phone.

“Does maman love you?”

“J'aime papa plus que le soleil après l'orage,” Indigo muttered, rolling over and wrapping an arm around her son, “Go to sleep, miel.”

Calvin smiled, she loves him more then the sun… he can see his sun is confused by Indigo’s slurred French, nevertheless, he snuggled into his mother’s chest soon falling asleep. Yet not so after they fell asleep tiny footstep barrel down the hallway, oh Goddess…

“CHRISTMAS!”

“Alexandria!” Calvin yelled in a whisper, sitting up in his bed as his middle child, crashed into his bedroom, “It’s too early to be yelling!”

“But Christmas!” They sighed quitter.

“Come here,” he replied, softly with open arms.

Alexandria climbed into Calvin’s lap, “It is Christmas, but mere and Finn are still sleeping, so is Aurore. You have to use you quiet voice.”

Alexandria huffed but soon made themselves comfortable in the many sheets, blankets, and quilts then soon falling asleep again. It’s a beautiful Christmas domestic moment.

But someone is missing…

Calvin got himself out of bed, carrying himself down the hall to his daughter’s room, entering quietly. His red hair daughter, slept in her bed soundly, a wonderful sight… too bad she’s about to ruin it.

“Northern Lights, Sweet girl,” he cooed rubbing her back as she stirred in her sleep and groaned.

“Daddy?” She questioned, as he picked her up.

He held his 6-year-old against his chest, carrying her out of her room and back to his, “Is it Christmas?” Aurore asked in her tiny voice.

“Yeah, but it’s to early for presents,” he answered, “we’re gonna sleep with mommy.”

He reentered his room, seeing his son in between where he once laid and Indigo, Alexandria on the other side of her. He placed Aurore on the bed letting her pick her spot to lay, beside her brother in-between her parents. Soon his whole family is asleep, and he follows, only getting two more hours asleep before waking up again, seeing Indigo wide-awake admiring her children.

“We make such beautiful babies,” Calvin cooed.

“We do,” Indigo replied, “Mere and Pere will now be here at 2.”

“It’s 7, we’ve got time for our Christmas, I can go check on the infirmary tonight,” he commented, “I don’t even have to go tonight, I can stay here.”

“It doesn’t matter to me, you want to go at noon, go at noon,” Indigo remarked, “Mere text me a few minutes ago, she wants to go see Spiro and the only flight out when it won’t be delayed, is later tonight.”

“That’s fine” Calvin moved some of her hair out of her face, letting his hand linger on her cheek, “But if you don’t want me to go…”

“You could go know, and we could sleep more,” Indigo retorted, “Problem solved.”

“But I’m so comfortable.”

“I can tell, you don’t have a four-year-old’s cold foot on your back.”

Calvin chuckled, “Merry Christmas, Angel eyes.”

“Joyeux Noël, ma chérie.”

[nrrrdgrrrl2002]

Look At Me Now

A fnal short story about the turtles

“Leo was struggling to sleep. He had had sleeping problems for a long time now. He didn’t know why.

He just…

It felt like something was…

Missing…

He didn’t understand it.

He has his dad.

His mom.

His brothers.

His friends.

Maybe it was cause of what happened to Casey?

But…

That didn’t seem right.

It felt like it was something else.

But he couldn’t figure it out.

He looked at two of his brothers, raph and Mikey, on the other side of the room.

Raph was on the top bunk across from Leo while Mikey was on the bottom bunk.

Raph was curled in, one arm under his pillow and another hugging his favorite stuffie, mrs cuddles.

Mikey was sprawled out, blanket half off and mouth wide as he slept. Their pet cat was on the bed with him.

Leo could hear Donnie snoring under him. He could hear him whistling with each exhale.

Suddenly Leo heard the turn of the knob. It must’ve been mom or dad.

He didn’t wanna worry them with his sleeping problems again so he quickly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He heard heavy footsteps. They were too heavy to be moms. She was always light and graceful. It had to have been dad.

He could hear dad turns towards him and Donnie. He felt dad slide his arms under him and grab him, holding Leo with one arm.

Leo still pretended to be asleep despite this, but sneakily opened one eye to see what’s going on.

Dad grabbed Donnie carefully and scooped him up with his other arm. Donnie squirmed a bit and his eyes fluttered, but he quickly fell back asleep.

Leo looked up at his dad as he took the two down the hall. He had a strange look on his face.

It seemed….

Sad….

Why was he sad?

Did something happen?

Dad took the two to the garage and opened the van door. He carefully set Leo down on one seat and Donnie on another, buckling both in.

He closed the door quietly as he turned and went back into the house.

Leo stopped pretending and looked around. He saw Donnie waking up, dazed and confused as he looked around with tired eyes.

He turned and saw Leo “what’s going on?” He asked, half tired. Leo wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I don’t know” he whispered to Donnie. “Dad just… took us and put us in here” he answered.

Donnie gave him a confused look. The two then heard dad come in with raph and Mikey.

Raph was awake talking to dad while Mikey was still asleep. Dad still had that sad unresponsive look as he opened the door and buckled raph and Mikey In behind Leo and Donnie, ignoring raphs questions.

Raph gave his dad an annoyed look as he closed the door before noticing Leo in front of him.

“What’s goin on?” He asked his older brother. Leo shrugged his shoulder, still not sure.

Dad got into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Where are we going?” Raph asked as Mikey started to wake up. Dad didn’t answer, not even looking at his sons.

“Dad?” A sleepy Mikey asked. Dad clenched the steering wheel, still ignoring them.

Leo saw in the mirror that dad looked like he was about to cry.

“Let’s just be quiet for now guys” he whispered to his brothers. “But where is taking u-“ raph tried to ask.

“Shh!” Leo gestured, not wanting to bother dad. Raph fell back into his seat and crossed his arms, clearly mad.

The others kept their mouths shut as dad drove them to an unknown location.

-

Dad turned the car to pull over in the pizzeria parking lot. Donnie couldn’t help help fiddling with the buttons on his coat as he got nervous.

Something didn’t feel right.

“Yay! We’re going to the pizzeria!” Mikey yelled. “Shh!” Leo gestured again.

“What?” Mikey asked, not getting the hint. The car stopped as dad turned it off.

He got out and turned to open the door in front of Donnie. “Come on boys” he told them as he held out a hand.

“I have a surprise for you” he continued, shadows hiding his eyes. Donnie backed away slightly.

Somethings wrong…

He wasn’t sure what.

This was his dad after all.

But it didn’t…

It didn’t feel like him..

It felt like…

The bad him.

He’s seen this dad before…

On that night..

The night his friend…

He felt Mikey push him as he jumped out. “What are we doing?” He said with a smile.

Dad rubbed his head. “It is a surprise” he said as raph grumpily followed and got out too.

Leo followed suit, going up and holding dads hand.

Donnie hesitated as they all stared at him. He slowly got out and followed them, still tense with worry.

They went into the pizzeria. Dad led the boys into the stage room as they looked around.

The pizzeria felt… different at night. Donnie couldn’t help feeling creeped out.

He didn’t get it. He’s been here so much. It was practically a second home to him.

He knew the faded blue-green walls and checkered floor like the back of his hand. He recognized every child drawing left taped on the wall.

But at night… this night… it felt…

Wrong.

He quickened his pace to be side to side with raph, who still had an annoyed face with crossed arms.

“I don’t think we should be here” Donnie whispered to him, clearly tense. Raph gave him a weird look.

“We’ve been here like a zillion times” raph responded. “I know but… something feels wrong” Donnie said.

“Welp. You’ll have to take it up with dad, genius” Raph responded. Donnie was afraid to talk to dad right now, so simply followed, staying close to raph.

Just in case…

Dad went up to the stage, leaving the boys in the party room. Mikey went into the ballpit as the others looked around.

Donnie sat at a table while he saw raph and Leo walk around. He looked out the window across from him.

He couldn’t help thinking about that night…

Could he have done something?

Maybe…

Maybe…

They boys all turned to the stage as they heard the curtains open. Opening it was a man in a rat suit, waving at them.

“Dad?” Leo asked, confused. The rat didn’t answer, gesturing them to come closer.

The boys looked at each other, confused. Leo was the first to step closer.

Donnie grabbed his brother. “Wait” he whispered to Leo. Leo looked at him before pulling his arm away and continuing.

Mikey followed Leo. Raph was about to follow too until he noticed Donnie frozen in fear.

Raph held out a hand, not looking at Donnie, but at the ceiling with an annoyed face. Donnie looked at raph and took his hand.

Raph led Donnie up the stage steps as they went in. The boys looked around behind the stage.

They saw brand new animatronics towering over them. All of the machines heads were removed and their chests open.

But the boys recognized them, in a sense. Seeing the heads on a shelf and the bodies on the floor.

They looked like each of them. Older, bigger and with funny costumes melded onto them, but each animatronic looked like one of the boys.

“Cool! Dad made us our own animatronics!” Mikey said. The others were creeped out.

Donnie noticed a door nearby. He let go of raph hand to go up to it.

“What the heck is all this?” Raph asked. “I.. I don’t know. Where dad?” Leo asked.

“And why was he wearing a rat suit?” Mikey asked. “It… it was him in that… right?” Raph asked nervously.

Donnie opened the door as his brothers worried. The others noticed and went behind him to look inside.

They saw it. Stripes. The puppet animatronic. It was tied up on metallic strings, limp.

“Why is stripes here? Isn’t he supposed to be in the gift room?” Raph asked.

Donnie walked closer to stripes without thinking. “Why is he tied up?” He asked as he was about to touch it.

Stripes eyes suddenly lit up as it convulsed. It shot its arm up, appearing to try to grab Donnie.

The boys screamed as Leo grabbed Donnie and pulled him back. Raph was the only one not screaming.

Thing must be glitching out.

Raph looked at his dumb brothers, waiting for them to stop. He then heard heavy, metallic footsteps behind them.

Raph looked behind them. He saw the lower half of the rat man’s body right behind Leo, who was still holding Donnie’s shoulders.

Raph couldn’t process what happened before seeing the knife.

His brother gasped before falling on the floor.

It was still there..

The other boys screamed and ran. Raph grabbed a crying Mikey and ran to the nearest door with him.

The rat slammed a button to close the garage door the boys were trying to get to.

Raph stopped as he noticed his other brother wasn’t with them. “Donnie?!” Raph yelled, seeing Donnie run to stripes instead.

“I think he’s trying to help us!” Donnie yelled back, climbing up the animatronic to get to his wires, that rat coming closer.

Raph was about to run to Donnie, but was too late. Donnie grabbed one of the wires and convulsed before falling in the floor, not moving.

Raph and Mikey were crying before Raph noticed the door close to being closed.

Raph yanked Mikey and started running, near throwing Mikey under the door to get him out.

Raph slid under too, but was late to it. He yelled as he felt his arm getting crushed and cut into by the shockingly sharp and heavy door.

His breathing was erratic as he tried to pull himself out. He screamed with tears flowing down his face as he felt horrible horrible pain rip through his body.

He couldn’t feel his arm. He couldn’t feel..

He couldn’t process the situation as he saw the rat man coming through another door.

He grabbed Mikey and ran. The two managed to to find an entrance to the basement and ran in.

Raph felt dizzy as he felt something wet dripping on his left side. He looked for a place to hide as Mikey was bawling.

He saw a chest. Grey with a lock on it. Big enough for them to squeeze in. “Come on” he told Mikey as he opened it and had them jump in.

He quickly closed it, not hearing it lock as his vision was getting blurry. He tried to calm his breathing as he put a hand over Mikey’s mouth.

He finally looked at what happened to his arm.

It… his arm… it wasn’t… it wasn’t there.. there was… just… just…

“Raph you’re bleeding” Mikey whispered. Raph shook as he didn’t know what to do.

“I-ill be ok. We’ll… we’ll be ok…”raph muttered as he wrapped an arm around Mikey.

He was struggling to breathe as he felt lightheaded. Numbness from his wound was spreading to the rest of his body.

The two stayed in there. Mikey curled into himself, lying on raph as raph layed his head on Mikey’s.

Raph was struggling to stay awake as he could hear Mikey’s breathing becoming raspy.

“Raph…” Mikey tried to say. Raph was in a daze. “I’m… I’m here… I’m…” raph trailed on before his eyes closed.

“I… I can’t breathe… i.. raph?” Mikey whispered in a raspy voice. He shook his brother slightly.

Raph wasn’t breathing.

Mikey whimpered as he shook raph.

“Raphie? I.. I don’t wanna be alone… I don’t.. I can’t… I can’t breathe…” Mikey started to feel numb as the air in the chest became thinner.

Mikey couldn’t help taking deep breaths as he felt like he was buried in snow.

His vision was dimming.

He couldn’t breathe…

He couldn’t breathe…

He hugged his brother, knowing raph couldn’t feel it. He closed his eyes..

And felt nothing…

-

He woke up. He couldn’t feel anything. He looked around him.

He was on stage. There were kids below him.

They seemed so small.

He could hear himself move but couldn’t feel it. It sounded like gears shifting.

What’s going on?

He tried to take a breath, but couldn’t.

He couldn’t breathe.

He looked to his side. Next to him was an animatronic in a blue suit singing to the kids.

It looked like his brother. Older, bigger, but just like him.

It’s eyes looked just like Leo’s. And they seemed so… real compared to the artificial animatronic.

Mikeys body was swaying back and forth jerkily without his control.

Why was he here?

What’s going on?

The show ended and Mikey’s body was suddenly pulled back as the curtains in front of him closed.

He tried to move, but couldn’t. He could only move his eyes. He noticed a broken mirror to the side of him.

He turned his eyes to look at him.

No…

No…

Mikeys eyes widened with horror as the animatronic body looking back at him in the mirror kept its artificial expression.”

[greyskyflowers]

I remember everything was so white

The snow outside

The sky

The paint on the walls

Our fingers as we drew pictures on the frost in the window

The way our breath came out in clouds, like little dragons still learning to spit fire and coughing up smoke

We played up in that attic like it was magic

Feeling so tall as we looked down at the world through that little window

Everything quiet except for our teeth chattering

The kind of quiet that comes with freezing temperatures and recent snow fall

A stillness that only happens in mid winter

Your dad called us down with the promise of snacks

Shaking his head when we came down with red noses and quivering bodies

Both of us stubbornly requesting ice cream as we hide under the blankets

He made us vanilla milkshakes

White as the snow outside

My mom came and took me home a few hours later

The road slippery with ice and 2 black lines cutting through the slush on the road where the pavement peaked through

I sniffled and told her all about the attic that made us so tall

And the milkshakes that looked like snow

Your dad died not long after that

Young as we were it was the first death I really remember

One day you just weren't in school

And my mom pulled me aside to tell me that your dad wasn't going to be around anymore

It was so hard trying to understand someone being there one day and gone the next

The teacher had us all spend the day making cards but I didn't know what to draw

I don't think I believed them

I remember thinking that wasn't right

I just saw him

They must have made a mistake

Aftrr all, he had just made us milkshakes

I could still taste vanilla when I went outside to play in the snow

I remember thinking the world was so quiet up in that attic

I remember wondering if you hid away up there after he died

To be quiet

To feel tall

To cry to white walls and a small window

To feel cold instead of heartbroken

I hope there was color when you looked outside

I hope it was the pink of spring or the gold of fall

I hope it wasn't white

I hope you weren't alone and cold up in that quiet attic

I hope you taste vanilla when it snows

[3xm-draconic]

JJBA: Rockabye Starboy (Jole's story, a tainted love sequel).

I made a fic about Jole, it's going to be about 5 maybe 10 episodes long (depends), I hope yall enjoy.

Also here is a pic of Jole.

Episode 1: My Last Resort, The Animal I have Become.

In the year 1984…

“JOLE!” my foster dad, Halen, screamed, he sounded drunk again.

I was in my room hiding under my bed, I kept quiet so he wouldn't find me and beat me for what I did again, “JOLE YOU MISERABLE LITTLE SHIT, YOU ATE MY SANDWICH!” he howled, “yhea I did eat it but that's only because you lock the fridge and you don’t bother to feed me” I silently shook.

My bedroom door burst off its hinges “QUIT LOCKING THIS FUCKING DOOR!” he bellowed “WHERE ARE YOU!?”, I watched him shuffle around drunkenly. He destroyed my room and eventually ripped my mattress off its frame and found me, “THERE YOU ARE YOU LITTLE SHIT!” he hissed.

I was beaten with a belt, the old leather accessory breaking after ten strikes, that made him even more mad “y-you… YOU LITTLE FUCK YOU BROKE MY FAVORITE BELT!” he snarled, he dragged me by my hair to the basement door and threw me down the steps “I’ll let you out when I get a new belt to finish your beating boy” he growled as he slammed and locked the door.

The basement was dark and the concrete floor was cold, I layed there in the fetal position, crying.

I eventually found enough strength to get to my feet, I saw in the darkness as if it were in dim light and I scoured the shelves for what I needed.

I found a bottle of vodka, a torn old blanket and my teddy that I kept hidden here, Kesha. I made some makeshift bandages and sterilized my wounds with the booze, I snuggled with Kesha for comfort, she was all I had left of my mom.

I took a few swigs of the vodka and slumped down beneath the basement window sobbing.

Eventually Halen returned and let me out, he made good on his promise to finish my punishment with a new belt, one with a thick sharp buckle.

That night as I lay in bed I came up with a plan to run away. I had always wanted to see the redwoods of California so I’d go there.

I packed my clothes and some other things in my backpack and snuck down into the kitchen. I saw Halen asleep at the table in a drunken stupor, I quietly creped past him and took a few cans of food, one of his swiss army knives, I got Kesha from the basement and the money he had stashed away in a coffee can in the pantry.

 Just as I was leaving, Halen woke up. I booked it out the door and he chased me down the street, he grabbed me by my hair and started to drag me back to the house…

That's when I snapped.

I don’t really remember what happened, one moment I was screaming for him to let me go and then the next…his head was..gone.

Nothing but a bloody stump remained.

I ran like hell…

I ran to a local park and hid in the public bathroom, I could hardly breathe “OH GOD, OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?!” I cried…

I could taste something on my tongue, something sweet and warm like hot fudge topping on a sundae, it stained my mouth, neck and shirt.

I looked in the mirror and I nearly threw up, the sweet taste…was blood.

I frantically washed it off of me in the sink, I washed it out of my hair too along with the dye and makeup Halen forced me to wear inorder to cover up my natural pink hair and bizarre eyeshadow-like markings on my eyelids.

For the first time in days I saw myself…the real me.

I saw the horns clipped short to hide them, the strange inhuman fangs…

I had always been a monster…hadn't I?

That’s why Halen hid me from the world…but now he’s dead…I killed him and now I’am…

I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror, really looked at myself.

I looked down at my birthmark, a big star on my shoulder and pondered “I have to go somewhere I won’t hurt anyone”.

I thought about it “the redwoods of California” . I had never been there but I had always wanted to go ever since I saw a picture of one in a book I once read.

I changed out of my old bloody clothes and into a new outfit, I buried the old ones under a big heavy rock and proceeded to walk.

After walking for a few miles I got tired, I set up my blanket under a bridge and cuddled with Kesha.

Even after all these years, she still smelled like her, like mom.

That night I dreamt of her again, of her soft smile and gentle eyes. I saw her again briefly and blurry, I wanted to ask her why she left, I wanted to know why she abandoned me but I never got to, those dreams were always bittersweet.

Joseph Jostar, a housing agent by day and a hammon warrior by night…that sounded like a bad joke but it was true.

Joseph had to keep up his training…and train the next generation.

Holly didn’t half to know he was teaching Jotaro how to fight vampires, who knows maybe it would prove useful in the future!

Joseph was enjoying his coffee break after training with little Joot when he got an urgent call from a Speedwagon Foundation agent.

“Hello yes, what's the matter?”, “Mr Jostar, I must inform you there has been a report of a bizarre murder in Walla Walla Washington, the crime scene is gruesome”, “and you are telling me this why?...”, “because eye witness accounts say it was some sort of harpy monster that did it and we analyzed feathers found at the crime screen”, “y-you…you don’t think?”.

“The dna is a match to Holly’s sir, we found him”.