#my aunt is asking me to do the catering for her birthday party

[diah-the-demon]

i am gonna be so busy tomorrow

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[jokerislandgirl32]

I was wondering if you had any Violet and Zack wedding headcanons? :) for… (*hides drawing tablet and suspiciously looks around*) no reason whatsoever :D

Awwww, you are so sweet! This ask made me so happy, and I’ve been working hard on it!

Yes, I do have a lot of wedding headcanons! And, I actually wrote a scene from the wedding in the prologue to Wild Violets! I think I’m going to tweak it a bit when I post chapter 1, but I’ll link it here! A03 Wattpad FF.net

But there is more to, it obviously…lol! For starters…they have 2 weddings! I’ll link everything below the cut because it is a lot! And to keep thing more neat and tidy for myself (my ocd’s been bad lately, lol) I’ll answer for the first wedding in this post and second wedding in another post I will tag you in!

Wedding #1

The first wedding is a simple courthouse wedding that occurs shortly Violet’s 23rd birthday in April.

Zach, Violet, his mother Valerie, and Violet’s Aunt Amy, and cousin Paige, Paige’s husband Todd, Paige and Todd’s son Nathaniel, and a few of the Zachbots are in attendance (if you/anyone wants references for them, let me know).

Outfits

Violet does not wear an actual wedding dress, she instead wears a short white party dress that has blue flora appliqués to have her “something blue.” 

Violet’s “something old” is her V butterfly necklace from Zach. 

Her “something new” is her custom made engagement ring from Zach that is gold with rubies and diamonds in the shape of a V were a typical diamond would be (enjoy my lovely rendition of it below, sorry the gold looks awful, lol).

Zach’s mother surprises Violet by loaning her the wedding veil she wore when she married Zach’s father to Violet, giving her “something borrowed.”

Violet wears her hair down in a half up, half down style, similar to the one below, but when they leave the courthouse, Violet trades the veil for some butterfly themed hair jewelry!

Zach wears the same black and gray suit he wore when he and Violet shared their first kiss (looks like below).

Zach and Violet, alone in his headquarters before they go to the courthouse, his hand cupped under her chin: Zach: “This suit brought me good luck the last time I wore it, it changed my life because it made me realize that I loved you. That you were my life.”

Even though it’s a courthouse wedding, Zach’s mom pulls Violet to the side and puts the veil on her, pulling it over her face and walking her to Zach. 

Zach is stunned when he sees Violet, not expecting the veil with the dress, he pulls the veil’s blusher back and holds her face in his hands, Zach: “you are beautiful.”

Violet: “Even given the…circumstances?”

Zach: “You could wear a trash bag and be beautiful.”

Zach’s mom is a florist, so she also surprises Zach and Violet with flowers for the wedding, she brings a small bouquet of flowers for Violet and boutonnières for everyone else.

The flowers are white and royal blue to match Violet’s dress (something like below, but with real flowers).

Ceremony/Reception

At the courthouse, the quick ceremony is performed by a justice of the peace, they kiss, sign the marriage license, and are on their way!

After the wedding they have a small reception on the balcony at Zach’s headquarters with Gourmand catering (vegetarian foods and no alcohol per Violet’s instructions, lol) and all the villains come to celebrate with them at the reception. 

Donita, Valarie, Amy, and Paige decorated the balcony with fairy lights, lanterns, and white, blue, and lilac flowers in various arrangements, and a triangle shaped arch covered with the flowers too!

Zach and Violet share a first dance at the reception to the song Technicolour Beat. It’s a very intense and intimate moment for them, and I imagine Violet’s quietly singing it to him 🥰!

They end the reception with more dancing, photos (they get some sweet hugging and kissing pics, and get some with sparklers for sure!), and they give their guests a special surprise! Any guesses?

Well those are Wedding #1 headcanons! Thank you so much for this ask, I’ve enjoyed working on it! If you have any more questions, please let me know. And if anyone has a questions you can reach out too!

[jiminrings]

BALLOON ANIMAL ARTIST JK I JUST FEEL LIKE HE WOULD BE REALLY GOOD AT IT AND MAKE YOU A FLOWER THEN ASK YOU ON A DATE

baby i love u and your big sexy brain <3 welcome to waikiki meets hospital playlist dynamic ft. balloon artist!jk

“who’s a good baby? is it you? iS IT YOU????”

you’d be the first one to admit that you had an exhausting horrible night

being a nurse sUCKS the life out of you and as much as it’s fulfilling, you almost always feel the urge to admit yourself to the ER for being extremely fatigued

it’s all worth it!! it should be

after all, paying for a mansion in an exclusive village and sharing it with your friends doeS warrant some elbow grease

seokjin works in wall street and sometimes he comes home crying but it’s okay because you do have an expensive fridge that everyone worked overtime for <3

hoseok’s a veterinary assistant and is your trusty friend who always sends in pictures of the animals that come in to cheer you up while at work

namjoon’s a painter by passion and accountant by profession!! he does only come out with a few pieces at a time but mAN does it rake in the money

jimin’s a flight attendant and does everyone the pleasure of securing either free or discounted tickets, and bringing home unused airline towels to dry off the dishes!!

lastly, taehyung’s someone you can call a former trustfund baby or somewhat :O the last big chunk of money he spent from his fund was the downpayment and security deposit for this mansion!!!

it’s a long story and he’s currently all over the place but he’s finding regular jobs!! his latest gig was working at a high-end ice cream place but he immediately quit once he learned that he needed to put his back into it and not just scoop up ice cream like he did in his dreams :((

most importantly, taehyung has a baby :-)

he’s a dad!! a single one at that

it’s truly a LONG story but the bottomline is that he has nabi, his cutest little dumpling!! and he has all of you, his friends who didn’t hesitate to step up as nabi’s parents in a way too even if he didn’t ask any of you

you all love the chunky monkey so much that you’ve all taken the liberty to call him your baby at times and tae doesn’t even mind!! nabi’s so lucky (he hopes) to have him as a dad and his friends as his cool uncles and aunt

nevertheless, you indeed had a bad night working the night shift and came home to nabi’s birthday party just in time!! :D

he turned two years old at midnight and even if you weren’t physically present at the mansion like the guys were (they requested their leaves two months earlier) because of being understaffed, you were able to see him and tae blow out multiple cakes that each one bought him

seeing him giggle at your arms just by doing the bare minimum makes you full already <3

all your exhaustion is melted away because it’s your favorite toddler’s birthday party!! the party that you all insisted on shelling out for that made tae almost cry bc of how much you all love his son

“jimin i am not sewing your forehead up when you end up falling in the wrong angle,” you roll your eyes at him who’s currently doing backflips in the bouncy house that managed to fit in the mansion

“hoseok can!!” he yells back and backflips twice in a row, much to the actual children’s amusement and your worry

“i will NOT stitch you up! the thread i have is for the pregnant dogs only!!!”

everyone’s entertaining guests left and right, including taehyung who’s the dad of the little man of the hour :D

he keeps pointing at nabi who’s currently in your arms every ten seconds and it’s now your job to make him giggle every single time to wave at the people

“what do you want, monkey? do you want some ice cream? i won’t tell your dad,” you eagerly ask the wide-eyed baby in your arms, pointing at the ice cream cart that namjoon probably ordered

“no thank you!” nabi cutely aND politely declines, his head shaking no and his speech and pronunciation getting clearer day by day

most of the time though he says it like tHANK YEWWWW and you would immediately grin every time because it’s the cutest thing ever

“hmm, look at that!! face painting!! do you want some butterflies?”

you point at yet another station that you guess seokjin arranged, knowing that at some point into this party, he’d all drag you in here to get matching marks or something lol

nabi once again declines, his eyes searching around that makes you do the same on what you could do to entertain him

he has the same habit down like taehyung and loudly gASPS, pointing his finger and almost shrieking in excitement

“bawoo — balloon!!! balloon!!!”

:O

it is now your life purpose to walk as fast as you could to this balloon station with nabi bouncing up and down your arm in excitement

jungkook’s having the time of his life here :D

normally he’s mostly called in the holiday season and occasionally at big birthday parties (the one where like two sides of the family share every baby’s first birthday party lmao) throughout the year!!

but he’s never had a client who requested him for a singular birthday party!! let alone at a hOUSE

ok maybe that was an understatement

he means a mansion

if he’s being quite honest, the mr. park jimin he spoke to on the phone sounded too kind that he just mistakened him for a party planner or something

he immediately said yes because he had no on-site bookings for that day, or even the week perhaps, and expected to stroll into a carnival in the middle of an executive village

aha :D jungkook is wrong :D

jimin met him by the front door wherein a lot of people are already crossing paths such as catering and not to mention the bouncy house you cAN’T miss, and just briefly touched in on the situation

“oh no, i’m not the dad, man — but thanks!! i’m his uncle. nabi’s dad is my friend, taehyung. and me and my friends, including taehyung, all live here. we’re all like family, basically.”

jungkook saw the other stations invited and he expected that his would have less children y’know?? bouncy house, ice cream station, facepainting, hotdog cart aND magic show???? yeah <3

but god is he wrong

the children are in a single-file line for hIM and his balloon artistry!!! the requests range from pretzels to pirate hats to chandeliers with the bulbs as smiley faces!!!

he’s managed to do all of them so far and he’s now made a decent dent on the line of children waiting for him

jungkook is a happy and content balloon artist :D

“EXCUSE ME! BIRTHDAY BOY COMING THROUGH!!”

oh my god what was that

you’re walking at full-speed and holler out, making sure to emphasize birthday boy because nuh-uh you and nabi will nOT line up for his own party <3 thank you very much

the children coo and the older kids coax the other ones to make way for the both of you to the front of the line, immediately plopping to a mini chair in front of the guy

“hiiii!!”

nabi drawls politely and waves his hand, making you do the same

“what a cute little thing,” the guy in front of you coos and it’s his voice that perhaps makes you melt a little, just seeing the top of his hair for now because he’s crouching down to be eye-level with nabi, “what can i do for you, little buddy?”

he toothily grins and straightens his posture, raising his eyes to look at who’s holding nabi in place and-

???????????????????

jungkook literally stops breathing for a second

“h-hi!! what can i do for you today?” jungkook squeaks, his eyes even more wide and curious to look at the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life

you’re sure that you were gonna stammer once you open your mouth so you don’t at all, instead focusing on nabi who’s on your lap

“what do you want, monkey?”

“nabi please! i want nABI!!! nabi nabi nabiiiiiiiiii-“

“yes. he wants nabi, please.”

jungkook nods fervently, his hands about to pluck ballons from his kit before he realizes to ask

“does he want his face? or like, his name? what colors do you want, bud?”

he’s not the least bit bothered at the choices in his head because you’re widening your eyes on what could this guy dO with just balloons, knowing to yourself that even pumping one is difficult work already

“oh! he wants nabi,” you clarify and jungkook tilts his head, mouth slightly agape at to what you’re trying to get at, “butterfly, i mean. nabi knows that his name means butterfly and he likes them a lot! don’t you, monkey?”

nabi nods so hard that it almost gives him a headache and jungkook wants to facepalm himself to the grave

“r-right! why didn’t i think of that?? because nabi means.... nabi....... right!! sorry, oh my god. o-oh! i meant oh my gosh. i uhm-...”

he’s a mess and he knows it, letting his hands take over and grab the same theme colors of blue and lavender from his bag to start on his work

kook tries not to lift his head up ever so often because you’d find him out instantly that he’s looking at you

so what he does instead is peer and coo at nabi every few seconds and tHEN look up at you because you also giggle whenever he giggles

he’s probably feeling pressure with the way your eyes are set on him too and what he’s doing that he pOPS a balloon right with his hands

“sorry, sorry! did i spook you?”

jungkook’s worried because he heard a collective gasp from the kids around him but his main priority is the birthday boy AND you

nabi’s shoulders rose and that’s about it

he shakes his head to himself, looking at you who’s carrying a curious gaze on your face that looks amused

“sorry. i-it’s just you’re so pretty and-“

he’s embarrassed himself in front of a pretty girl and her son and-

wait a second

the color just dRAINS from his face and he’s about to quit at the second

“oh my god i am so sorry. y-you must be nabi’s mother. you’re mr. taehyung’s-“

“friend!! i’m y/n, i’m just taehyung’s friend,” you interject quickly because you cannot believe that pretty boy called you pretty, and at the next breath thought you were taehyung’s wife, “and nabi’s my nephew. we’re all just friends who live together!! i have no boyfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

...

....

yeah maybe you embarrassed yourself this time

you may have said too much information to the balloon artist but jungkook’s just staring at you fondly

and nabi’s switching his gaze between the two of you and claps his hands to snap the two of you out of it lmao

kook chuckles to himself and he cannot stop smiling, even when he’s tying the last balloon to nabi’s butterfly

“there you go, cutie. happy birthday!!” he hands nabi the hUGE butterfly he just made but the sheer difference of how big it is makes the toddler even more happy, hugging it to his chest

jungkook watches you pepper kisses on nabi’s cheeks and that launches him into quickly pulling out balloons while your eyes are deviated from him, hands twisting and turning like his wHOLE LIFE depended on it

“my name’s jungkook, by the way,” he calls you when you’re just about to stand up, smiling giddily at you, “thought you should know.”

cute :-)

before you could thank him, he extends his arm and your mind recognizes the familiar shape which makes you smile instantly

jungkook made you a flower balloon <3

“i think i’ll remember you, jungkook.”

you laugh as the only thing you can smell from it is latex, the huge flower staring at you right in the face

jungkook sheepishly blushes, pursing his lips in happiness

“i’m free whenever you’re free — f-for a date, y’know? just so you could remember me more.”

.

.

.

bonus: dilf taehyung has his own drabble!!

bonus bonus: bestie anon brought my attention to these tiktoks below and gAWD i’m so happy <3

first, second

[gay-salt-amber]

Thank you so much! Can I request more? Maybe in the idea of the kids growing up as friends even as students?

I like to think Jamil's just trying to make sure his kid(s) is/are safe

You can request as much as you want! Thanks for all the asks

So, a lot of the kids first met in like kindergarten/grade school or on field trips

The one with the most kids is prolly Leoruggie and Jamikali which isn't even that many its like 3-2 kids

And yeah, you're right in your ask of Jamil just wanting to make sure his kids safe. Especially when the kids hang out with the Leoruggie fam since Ruggie is more lenient on rules (there's still some rules tho) he just wants the kids to have fun and have the life that Ruggie never got to have and Leona just thinks its funny

Jamil on the other hand has to baby-proof the house and has to get after Kalim every once and a while for spoiling their kid to much

Lilia is just everyone's favorite grandpa/uncle/whatever title

Rook and Vil's kid does his friends makeup when they go out to party

the whole squads theme is "Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time" (Totally not cuz I'm listening to it while typing this ;w;)

Riddle x Floyd x Cater... Their child is the definition of chaotic mom friend

Because of this Trey x Jade's kid is the actual responsible one and stops the squad from being overly stupid

Floyd has slid a couple kids teensy bits of alcohol on their 16th birthdays when nobody was looking

Oh Great Seven, you better PRAY for NRC when those kids get there, the only one who can put up with them is Sam since hes the youngest

The Ramshackle dorm becomes their dorm away from dorm (home away from home?) while at NRC and the amount of partying they do you'd be surprised the place hasn't burned down... No wait, they burnt a hole in one of the walls once... Meh its not the whole dorm :>

Idia x Azul x Malleus 's kid definitely helped their whole squad cheat on a test once, they didn't get caught and they felt like they were walking on egg shells all week

Everyone was balling their eyes out at high-school graduation, Jamil was just crying on Kalim's shoulder like, "shut the fuck up, don't mention this EVER again." Same thing with Leona and Ruggie

Rookvil got married when the kids were toddlers and the photos of all the kids in lil wedding clothes and Rookvil's kid as a flower kid in a little frog costume (Epel picked it) we're the CUTEST thing

When Riddle and his boyfriends first adopted their kid(s) Riddles panickily went to everyone else (who had already adopted/had kids) from NRC and asked how to be a good parent cuz his mom sure as hell didn't do a good job at that

The kids go apple picking with Epel, the kids have mini baskets

Once Leoruggie and Jamikali's kid were in a high-school class talking about royalty stuff and their teacher who was from a place where magic wasn't really used nor was royalty normal started laughing thinking they were lying

They were proved wrong later that year

Najma is definitely the cool wine aunt and everyone loves her (as they should u-u)

They all grew up with the understanding that gender norms don't mean shit since at least one (if not both) of their parents are trans, genderfluid, NB, etc. a good example of this is Leoruggie's kids and Leona will beat up transphobes who call him a woman or his child by the wrong gender

So y'know how Idia likes cats? Yeah his and whoever else's kid who has a cat takes their kids out on leashes around town and its hysterical to anyone passing by

None of those kids are straight

So much "Oh, Great Seven no!" and, *Silently watching to see if their stupidity works out so they can join* coming from the parents

Since a lot of my ships are, "Calm one(s) trying to control chaotic one(s)" its the same thing when they get a kid just x2

Sometimes they do google meet/discord call parties and their parents come in to just hear one of the other kids saying, "What if I don't have a dick or balls?" (got that from Mommy Princess Angel) over video

The kids do spa days together with the Rook and Vil, they tried to get Epel in on it but yeah..... no

A lot of them start to work at the lounge when they get into NRC

I'm not saying which kid, Floyd x Cater x Riddle but one of them stole Jafar's staff from his statue in NRC and EVERYONE looked for it for like a week and then it just... reappeared

On the rare occasions they punish their kids for stuff Jamil sometimes has to be reminded by Kalim that, "keep in mind we mainly Kalim did chaotic stuff like this when we were their age, go easy on them." Jamil and the kids appreciate that

Farena has very little interaction with the Leoruggie kids since Ruggie just doesn't want to have to deal with Leona and his brother having screaming matches. The kids spend a lot of time with Cheka though!

I feel like Kalim tends to apologize for things that aren't his fault, but he doesn't do it as much as he did when he was younger... one or more of Jamikali's children got this habit

They def do karaoke together

Family BBQ's are a MUST for them

Once Jamikali's kid got really sick and Jamil was COVINCED that the food was poisoned and that he was a bad dad for not taste testing the food and Kalim said, "Sweetheart, you made everything, its not poisoned."

-----

Welp! Theres some headcanons for ya! Hope you like them u-u I baked them myself :D -Amber

[kelieah]

surprise (peter parker x stark!reader)

summary: you give peter a gift he would have never expected to receive from you

word count: 2.9k

warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, language

edited: sorry this is super late :(

a/n: hehe, happy bday to the cutest puppy of all! thank you to everyone who helped me come up with ideas for this fic, ily all 3000

masterlist

You and Peter have been dating for almost a year now. You both decided to get together after all the chaos that took place in Europe. You two have been friends for quite a while before that, so the fact that your friendship with Peter flourished into something even better is one of the many reasons why you adore him.

His birthday is tomorrow and you wish to make it as special as it can be. Though you’re not exactly sure how to do that. You know your dad would’ve easily bought something tremendously big and written a cheesy yet short letter with it, and Peter would love it. But if you did the same, it wouldn’t be right. Right?

The night before his birthday, you were in a spiral. You had already planned a surprise party for him at his apartment though that was the least of your worries. You were pacing around your room, unsure if the gifts you’ve been preparing for weeks was enough or if you should add more things. 

Over the years you’ve been friends with him and the months you’ve been dating him, you put together memories and experiences all in a scrapbook. It looked cute and simple on the outside, but once you opened it up, the pages were filled with photos, letters, doodles, and colors. Many references or inside jokes were scattered along the side margins and stickers were put accordingly. You made sure it was perfect, but your gift still felt incomplete to you.

You wanted to be extra. You had to be extra. You remember your mom saying it was something you got from your dad. That man was always one for his dramatics. So you stayed up a bit later than you should’ve, making tiny little paper stars with sweet compliments, affirmations, and advice in them. Then you made as many as you can to fill up a glass jar shaped like R2-D2. 

Though to you, that still wasn’t enough. So you searched and searched and eventually found some vintage Star-Wars comics. Ignoring the fact that they were over a thousand bucks, you bought a dozen or so. His gifts were spread across your bed and you stared at it for what felt like hours.

Is this enough? Is this too much? Will he love it? Will he even like it? Shit.

You remember wanting to sleep and putting it all aside to figure out in the morning. You might’ve forgotten his birthday was the next day with how much you focused on the gifts than the actual date, so you woke up with panic.

You also remembered there was one last thing you wanted to get for Peter but once you glanced at the clock, it was already noon. You overslept.

You feel your heart drop immediately realizing that you weren’t able to text or call Peter a happy birthday or good morning. You assume he must be worried, or hurt or maybe upset? You place your face in your hands and fall into deep thought. Then it hit you, the surprise party is in three hours.

“Morning Friday, read my text messages and voicemails please,” you groggily lean against your bed rest.

“Are you sure, Y/n? You have 243 text messages and 94 voicemails,” Friday informs you. 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Uhm, actually just read the ones from Mom, Peter, Aunt May, and Happy please,” you mutter.

“Understood,” Friday responds, beginning to go through your messages and voicemails, “Mom has messaged you, “Morning honey. Had to go to some meetings. Nanny is leaving at 1, please watch Morgan. I’ll meet you at the party. Could you bring Morgan with you when you go?” Peter has not messaged or called you. Aunt May has messaged you, “Hi dear! I’ve already baked up some cherry pies for the party, when are you going to be over to decorate? By the way, Peter went out and is probably patrolling,” with a smiley face and heart. Happy has messaged you, “Hello, I already ordered the catering, and went over the invite list. Are you up yet?” and he also left the voicemail saying, “Hopefully you’re up by the time you get this. Most of the Avengers are coming, except Thor, the Saviors, no wait, the Guardians of whatever they’re called, and Captain Marvel. I’m sure you could figure out why. Give me a call when you’re up.” Done.”

“Shit,” you whine loudly. You throw yourself out of bed and get to your morning routine. You quickly tidy up your room, take a quick shower, go through your skincare routine and get dressed up. You decided to put on some makeup and wear nicer clothes for once given it’s your boyfriend’s birthday.

You look around your room and inhale deeply, “Just that one last thing,” you remind yourself and walk off. After getting what you need, the nanny informs you that she’s leaving. You walk over to Morgan’s room and knock the door before entering, “Hi princess, you ready for Spider-Man’s birthday?”

She turns around, all dressed up in a pretty floral dress, “Hi sissy, yes! Don’t you mean, your friend boy?” she giggles, running up to you.

You roll your eyes playfully, “You mean boyfriend? Yes, c’mon pretty girl. We’re going to go now.”

An hour or so later, you’re making your way over to Aunt May and Peter’s apartment with Morgan in the backseat. You felt bad for not greeting Peter at all today but you decided to make it a part of the surprise. “He still has a tracker in his suit!?” you burst out in laughter as you stop at a red light.

“Seems like Tony didn’t get rid of it before, I don’t blame him,” Happy mutters. “You got everything right? Morgan, Peter’s gifts, the decorations, and your head?”

“Yes Happy,” you glance into your back seat, checking in on Morgan and seeing the piled clutter. “I feel like Santa Clause with a bunch of gifts and an elf in the backseat,” you chuckle. Morgan gasps and makes a silly expression at you that brings a smile to your face.

“Maybe you are with all the cookies you eat,” he jokes.

“You’re one to talk, anyway where’s Peter now?” you ask as you drive off as soon as the light turns green.

“He’s swinging around, I saw the news. He’s interacting with fans and interviewers, a pretty rare case.”

“True, he must be trying to distract himself. Am I the only one who hasn’t greeted him yet?” you ask, nervously biting on your bottom lip.

“Yep.”

“Shoot, well I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Let’s hope so, I’ll see you and Morgan when you both get here. Gotta help May out with the pies.”

“Sure, the pies,” you tease, causing Happy to roll his eyes and end the call.

You feel your heart stop as Peter suddenly gives you a call. You fight the urge to pick up and shower him in reassurance and love, but ignore for the sake of the surprise. 

Ten to twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrive at May and Peter’s apartment. You smile and knock on the door, struggling to hold everything in your arms while holding Morgan’s hand.

“Hello hello, you two,” Aunt May opens the door with a bright smile on her face. She lets you in and helps you out, “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I overslept. I wasn’t sure if my gifts were enough,” you pout and kiss her cheek. 

“That’s okay. Morgan baby, Happy’s in the kitchen.” May smiles and ruffles Morgan’s hair. Morgan hums and hugs her leg, running off.

“These are all your gifts for him? Sweetheart, it’s his birthday not Christmas,” she giggles. “I’m sure he would love anything you get for him, even if it was a cheap lego set.”

“I know I know, it’s just Peter has been through so much. I feel like he deserves the world,” you say bashfully.

“You’re so cute,” she hums and helps you place the many gifts on a certain table. “Remember, you have been through a lot too.”

“Yes, but today’s his day,” you cross your arms. “Anyway, enough chatter. We should decorate now, everyone’s coming over in an hour right?”

“Yep. I also told Peter to swing around for a while and bring Thai food home at 4. He thinks it’s just going to be him, Happy and I. I told him you have work,” she says, grabbing some decorations.

“Okay, perfect. I feel so bad, I haven’t communicated with him since last morning,” you huff and grab some streamers.

“I’m sure he understands, kid gets busy too,” Happy walks over from the kitchen with Morgan trailing behind him. “Man, are these all your gifts for him?” he glances over at a table filled with only your gifts.

“Y-Yes? Why is that such a bad thing,” you groan.

“It’s not, I think,” he glances at May who gives him a look. He puts his hands up in defense and slowly walks back into the kitchen.

“You’re fine, honey. Also, I love your dress, isn’t that?” she tilts her head.

“Yeah, it’s the dress I was wearing on our first date,” you smile to yourself, glancing down at your cherry red dress. It fit perfectly, not too loose or tight and it had pockets. Something you and Peter were always amused by.

After the three of you finish decorating, the guests begin to arrive. Most of the team showed up and you and Peter’s close friends. You let out a sigh of relief and lean on the fire escape railing, looking out at the city. You glance at your watch, “Almost time.”

“Hey there,” you hear from behind you. You look back and see Happy.

“Hey.”

“You doing alright? Peter’s coming soon,” he says and walks next to you, leaning against the railing.

“I know, I just feel like. I did too much? Too less? I’m not sure, I just wanted this day to be perfect for him especially after last year,” you mutter and glance at Happy with teary eyes.

He smiles sadly and pulls you into a hug, “It’s absolutely perfect. You know, Peter isn’t going to be the only one who’s proud.”

“Who else? You?”

“Well, besides me and a bunch of other people. Your dad,” he murmurs.

You feel your heart tighten and you stifle a cry, stuffing your head into his chest. He sighs and hugs you close, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. Sometimes I feel like he never left, because everyday I see him in you,” he pulls away, holding your shoulder.

You smile softly and nod, “T-Thank you, Happy really,” you sniffle.

“Of course. You should probably tidy up, your makeup’s running,” he takes a step back.

You laugh half-heartedly, “Alright. Could you tell everyone to get in their places?” you begin to walk towards the apartment.

“Got it,” he nods and follows you back inside.

Your heart was racing, everyone wasn’t sure if he was going to show up at the front door or his room. Happy gives the signal that he’s arrived and everyone goes silent. You feel a slight sense of relief when you hear noises from the front door. If he came through his room, he probably wouldn't be that surprised. 

Peter sighs and holds the bag of Thai food in one hand, opening up the door with a key in the other. His senses have been all over the place today and his heart didn’t feel like it was in the right place. He was beyond worried about you, he didn’t even care that it was his birthday. He just wanted to know if you were okay.

He opens the door, calling out for May. “May, I’m home-”

“Surprise!” Everyone appears out from their spots, greeting Peter with bright smiles and confetti. 

Peter instantly jumps and places a hand over his heart. “G-Guys!? Bruce? Scott? Wait, Ned? MJ!?” he stammers, looking all over the place.

“Happy birthday, Spidey,” you come out of your hiding spot, smiling warmly at him.

“Oh my god, Y/n,” he breathes out and rushes over to you, pulling you into a hug. You let out a gasp as he picks you up and spins you around. He places you down and hugs you closer. He pulls away and glances at your dress then at you, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. 

You blush at his comment and fiddle with your dress. “Thank you,” you smile, hoping he notices your outfit.

“Wait, isn’t this the dress from our first date?” he holds some of your dress and glances at you. You grin and nod, he sighs happily and pulls you back into a hug.

Everyone reacts sweetly until Flash, who was surprisingly invited yells out, “Get a room!” Everyone instantly glares at him and he shrivels up, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes and Peter ignores him, peppering your face with kisses. “I thought you were mad at me or something, or hurt, or just forgot about me,” he rambles, holding your face.

“Well, luckily none of those are the cases. I just wanted to surprise you,” you hum.

“You planned all this?” he gapes, glancing around his apartment once again.

“Yes, but I had a lot of help,” you hum.

“Friend boy!” Morgan squeals and rushes over, hugging you and Peter’s legs. “Happy birthday,” she beams.

Peter’s eyes soften and his bends down, “Thank you cutie,” he grins.

She squeals and hugs him, “Can you be my friend boy?”

You gasp dramatically, “Morgan, he’s my friend boy.”

“I don’t know babe, Morgan looks amazing in her little princess dress,” he picks up Morgan, holding her close.

You pout and cross your arms. Morgan bubbles happily and wraps her tiny arms around his neck.

To say Peter was overwhelmed with happiness was an understatement. He felt relief, appreciation, love and support. This whole time he was worrying that he had done something wrong when really nothing was wrong and everyone was just hiding and being quiet for his surprise.

After catching up with some of the Avengers and friends and eating dinner all together, it was time for cake and presents.

You couldn’t express how unbelievably happy and emotional you felt for Peter as he stood in front of his cake as everyone sang Happy Birthday to him. His face was filled with pure joy and you wish that could stay on his face forever, because to you, that’s what he deserves and more.

Not much later present time begins and Peter starts to open up everyone’s gifts. You told him to open yours last. You absolutely adored this boy and your heart swelled up every time he held a genuine smile to his face as he opened his gifts. He got up, thanked and hugged every single person who had got him a gift. You truly are smitten for him.

“Who are all these gifts from?” Peter asks, glancing at the huge piles of gifts left. “I thought I had opened everyone’s except Y/n’s already,” he chuckles. 

“Those are all mine,” you walk over, sitting next to him.

“Oh, flower,” he mutters softly and pouts out his bottom lip. “You didn’t-”

“Ah, please open them and shut your mouth,” you cross your arms. Everyone laughs in amusement at your sass and watches as Peter begins to open up the gifts.

Peter first opens up the comic books and jars filled with little letters, “Oh my god, you didn’t,” he whimpers happily. “This must’ve cost a fortune,” he holds up the comic books.

“What? All I did was write on little pieces of paper and-”

“Babe.”

“I know! I’m joking, on to the next please,” you coo and kiss his cheek. 

He huffs and unravels the next gift, his eyes beginning to glisten with tears. He slowly flips through the pages of the beautiful scrap book you made for him. He comes across a page where it was you, your dad and him in multiple photos. He lets tears slip form his eyes and glances at you with softened eyes, “Y/n,” he mutters.

“Larb you,” you kiss his cheek. He places the scrapbook aside and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

“I larb you more,” he sighs. 

“I thought that was our thing,” May pouts, causing everyone to chuckle at her comment.

“It can be our thing too,” Peter teases. “Is that all?” he sniffles, glancing back at you.

“One more thing,” you smile cheekily.

“Oh man,” he sighs, placing his forehead on your shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Morgan,” you look up, running your hands through Peter’s curls. She grins and grabs the last small box, bringing it to Peter.

He looks up and smiles, silently thanking her. “You want to help me open it?” he asks her. She nods and sits on his lap, helping him pull away the ribbon. As they both do so, the box falls and reveals the gift your mom once gifted your dad, then to you. Peter covers his mouth, “No, I can’t-”

“Peter,” you shake your head.

He sniffs once again, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks as he glances at the glass case with your dad’s arc reactor inside. He glances down at the words surrounding the arc reactor, “Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart,” he sobs.

You glance up seeing that your mom smiles sadly, wiping away some tears. “Happy birthday,” you repeat, kissing his cheek.

“Why are you giving this to me?” he stammers, hugging Morgan back as she hugs him close, nuzzling her head into his neck.

“Mom, Morgan and I already have many parts of dad with us. You don’t have as much and we all know how much he meant to you. You really are a part of our family too Peter, and I felt like you deserved this. Now you can see that his heart also belongs with you,” you smile warmly, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears away.

Everyone watches the heart-touching moment unravel, a sad yet understanding smile appearing on their faces. “I love you. I love all of you, and you,” he pokes Morgan’s nose, causing her to giggle.

“We love you too Peter,” everyone chimes in.

“I love you more,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

“I love you 3000,” Morgan pouts, playing with his shirt. You and Peter look at each other with sad smiles.

“I love you 3000 too.”

tagging some mutuals who might be interested! @ariistotles @cosmicholland @petersholland @tonguetiedholland @theamazingtomholland @tombrina @spideyyeet @toms-gf @peterspideysstuff @chloecreatesfictions @mcdwcman @hollandsrecs @the-salty-asian @fallinfortom @hermayone @allegra-writes @waitimcomingtoo @futuremrspcy @dreamofaprilsblog @t-lostinmendes @musicalkeys @icyhollands @beverlyparkerr​ @marvelhoesworld​

[averyonelovesjack]

learning to raise a baby ~ daniel seavey

requested: yes:)

Can you please do an cute imagine about y/n and Daniel having a baby together and taking care of the baby and figuring the parenting stuff out together. Ur amazing

summary: follow a few different events in the life of daniel and y/n learning to raise a baby.

warning(s): baby, literally too lazy to edit this i’ll come back later lmao

word count: 2608

author’s note: i have such baby fever omg 

disclaimer: i def need to clarify that i am 18 years old and do not have a baby and i have no close friends with babies (in person, at least) therefore this is purely fiction. i watch a LOT (i mean A LOT) of family vloggers and like teen mom accounts raising their kids, so basically all of my knowledge comes from that. i hope no one takes offence to my depiction of it, but my intention is purely just to write this cute fic idea, and i don’t want to pretend like i know anything about parenting or raising a child or anything like that!! okay that’s all!!

I could barely see my feet as I painfully took in another breath of air and started walking forward. Awoken at 3am with terrible back pain and a pool of amniotic fluid at my waist, Daniel and I now rushed to grab our hospital bag and make our way to the labor and delivery section of our nearest hospital. 

everything went so fast. before i was actively having a child, it felt like my pregnancy would never end, but now that it’s actually happening and i’m having a child, it felt like pregnancy flew by.

just a few days ago, i was sitting on the countertop in my bathroom, impatiently waiting to see if i was pregnant or not in hopes that daniel wouldn’t get home from the studio early and find me. i had just given daniel the surprise of his lifetime when i woke him up at four am to tell him i was pregnant because i just couldn’t keep it from him anymore to do a fun reveal. i remember how we both cried, too excited to even go back to sleep. 

just a few days ago, daniel and i were sitting in my obstetrician’s office as we got to hear our eight week old fetus’ heartbeat for the first time. we both cried. it feels like just a day or two ago we cut into a pink colored cake and found out that our precious baby girl would be coming. all of the breakdowns about what stroller to buy and which crib matches the nursey best felt like just moments ago. and now, all of a sudden, i’m ten hours into labor and i’m ready to push.

pushing was painful, but the thought of holding a sweet babygirl soon just kept me going. daniel squeezed my hand tight, standing by the end of the bed watching our beautiful daughter make her way into the world.

i gave the final push and soon i heard a cry that made everything in the whole world worth it. they say you never truly understand love until you’ve had a child, and as soon as i held our daughter, i felt an overwhelming sense of truth in that statement. i never knew such a distinct moment could be the greatest day of my life, but as soon as i laid my eyes on her, i knew that i would never get a day greater than this one. 

our daughter laid on my chest for a while as daniel sat by my head, holding both my hand and hers. eventually, the nurses cleaned her off a bit and wrapped her tightly in a swaddle for daniel to finally hold his daughter. i watched the tears fall from his bluer than ever eyes that never left her little face. by the way she settled in his arms and fell asleep, i knew i was going to have a daddy’s little girl on our hands. 

it felt like forever, just watching daniel and our baby getting to know each other. soon enough, though, the doctors finished with the stitches and i heard a knock at the door. 

within seconds, both of our parents came into the room, bearing wide smiles. daniel sat in the seat next to me, both of us staring at the beautiful baby in front of us. 

“does she have a name?” keri asks, slowly walking up to the two of us, careful not to be too loud. 

daniel and i look at each other, and then i give him the nod to tell everyone. “callista avery mae seavey.”

“our little baby callie.” i smile at the name. daniel and i both loved the name callie, but wanted it to be a nickname. avery was after his bandmate who really helped us through this whole preparing to be parents thing. mae was a pretty nickname from my side of the family that was good to separate avery and seavey. our little callie mae. 

***

it was three am and both of us were awake to callie’s loud screaming. turns out that daniel and i had a very colicky daughter who, when awake, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. daniel was in the nursery trying to grab more diapers and wipes that, out of exhaustion, we forgot to restock last night when we ran out. i held callie in our arms, rocking her gently and trying to get her to go back to sleep. 

“does she have a dirty diaper?” daniel asks, placing the diapers in the corner of our messy bedroom. a few days into callie’s life, we realized we should’ve left the changing table in our bedroom until she was ready to sleep in the nursey, but both of us were too tired to even think about moving the furniture around. so for now the corner of the room was storage and a changing pad on the bench was our late night changing table. 

“i don’t think so.” i answer, giving him an exhausted look. “her diaper isn’t heavy and i tried to feed her, but she doesn’t seem to be hungry. i think she just woke up and is being colicky again.”

“how long did the doctor say the colic will last?” daniel asks. 

“she didn’t.” i sigh, going to take a seat on our bed as i continued to calm callie. daniel sat beside me. “go back to sleep, i got her.”

“no, i know you’ve been awake all night. try to go to sleep, i’ve got her.” daniel says, and then takes callie from me. “did you take melatonin tonight?”

“yeah.” i say. “i know your body goes through a lot of changes postpartum, but i’m really not liking the insomnia.”

“okay, well, you lay down, and i’m gonna sing to you both, okay?” daniel says and then starts to rock callie to sleep as i laid beside them. and then he started to sing softly. 

***

callie was born a little over three months ago and daniel and i haven’t had a date night since then. when we fearfully realized that last week, jack and anna were both quick to offer some help. we hadn’t felt comfortable leaving callie yet, especially since she wasn’t always the easiest. we had lots of help and people offering, but neither daniel nor i were good at asking for help. that’s definitely something we’re both still working on, especially now that we have a baby. 

finally though, jack and anna convinced us. originally, we were going to leave them with daniel’s parents, but anna and jack were pretty convincing. jack had lots of experience since he himself is a dad, and anna was very close with gabbie when she had lavender. jack also decided to invite zach for some more company, which was cute.

daniel and i had a hard time saying goodbye to callie, even though we really were only going to be out for two hours at most. we knew neither of us could stay away for that long. 

the restaurant wasn’t too far from the house, which was nice because it cut down on our time away from callie. i think both of us were a little nervous to leave her. we both know that she’s three months old and other people are more than capable of watching her for a few hours, but it’s still hard to not be worried about all of the things we could be missing out on.

“oh my gosh, anna just sent a picture of callie.” daniel says in the middle of our dinner, holding up his phone to show up me the picture of our daughter in the adorable pajamas her aunt bought. 

“i miss her.” i admit, knowing he was feeling similarly. “do you think they had a hard time getting her to sleep? i hope she’ll be good for them tonight.”

“i’m sure she was fine.” daniel says, then later . “you know, maybe we should skip dessert. relieve them a little early.”

“she’s growing up so fast.” i tell him. “i’m not ready for her to keep growing.”

“we’re gonna blink and she’s gonna be cursing us out because we wouldn’t let her go out with her friends.” daniel continues. “not that we would do that, because honestly, i’ve always thought we’d be a little cooler than that.”

i laugh at his comment. “oh, we’ll definitely be cooler than that. we’re not gonna be the lame strict parents that doesn’t let their kids go out with their friends.”

“oh definitely.” daniel agrees. “except i will be strict about doors open if someone is over. i don’t care who she’s in her room with, but that door better be open. i am taking no chances.”

“i feel like that’s fair.” i add. “i know we’re parents, but wow, until i think about that future, i kind of forget.”

“i’m very glad that’s a long ways away.” he comments. “i’m barely ready for her to be three months old, we do not need to get ahead of ourselves. take this parenting thing one step at a time.”

“i could not agree more.” i smile, leaning over the table to kiss daniel’s lips gently. 

***

i walked out of my one year old’s nursery with her in my arms. we watched as daniel and anna hung balloons up around our california apartment. it’s just about an hour before callie’s first birthday party, and now more than ever, i could not be more grateful for daniel’s family’s offer to help us set up. 

rather than fighting with figuring out food for the party, we decided to get it catered. christian and tyler offered to go pick up the food at the restaurant for us, which was extremely helpful. his parents were setting up some decorations around the front of the apartment. 

i had just put callie in her adorable dress that i specifically picked out for this party. we weren’t the type to throw parties, so we weren’t 100% sure what to do or what to expect, but we decided to just stick to family and close friends. callie was too young for us to strictly invite her friends over. at this stage in her life, her friends were whoever was at mommy&me that week. 

the party was going to be small. daniel’s family, my family, daniel’s bandmates and close friends, and then my close friends. 

thankfully, we finished decorating and setting up with about thirty minutes left to spare before the party. rather than worry, i decided to just sit on the couch with anna and daniel. keri took callie from me, wanting to spend some time with her granddaughter, and giving daniel and i a brief break before the party started. 

“i cannot believe she’s a year old.” anna exclaims to me. “you guys have been parents for a year. that’s crazy to think about.”

“it’s definitely a little bit weird.” i giggle in response. 

“you guys make it look so easy, being young parents.” anna says. “i know i’m younger than you guys, but still, i cannot imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

“i didn’t think i would either.” i tell anna. “for me, i wasn’t really ready until i met dani. i realized that i was ready because i wanted to do this with him. it’s different for everyone, i’m sure, but at least personally, that’s how i knew we could be parents.”

daniel wraps his arm around me on the couch, kissing my cheek softly. “yeah, it’s the same for me. when you find someone you want to do everything with, it gets easier to imagine yourself parenting together.”

“that is really cute.” anna says. “this is what i mean, when i say you make it look easy!!”

“it’s definitely not easy.” i laugh. “but it’s a little bit easier when you work as a team. we talk things through and decide together, instead of just making decisions separately. it’s a lot easier to feel like you’re making the right decision when you talk things through.”

“and that is all the parenting advice you get, because while i am most definitely ready to be a dad, i am not ready to be an uncle.” daniel says, getting protective over his younger sister. 

“being an uncle is way easier than being a dad.” anna laughs. “but trust me, i’m not having kids any time soon. at least not intentionally.”

“well, i have to be the cool uncle. someone’s gotta bail the kid out of jail and hide it from you.” daniel jokes.

“first of all, why would my kid go to jail??” anna asks. “and second of all, you might’ve been first in the race for cool uncle before callie arrived, but since becoming a dad, you’ve fallen behind. the cool uncle can’t have kids, that’s not how that works.”

“well i’ll break that standard, because i’ll be the cool uncle.” 

“i just want to be the aunt that gives good advice at one o’clock in the morning.” i tell them. “someone’s gotta do it. i expect that for callie, anna, so i will do that for your kids.”

“oh, of course. nothing but the best for callie. and future kids.” anna agrees. “speaking of, future kids? any thoughts on that? mom wants me to scope that out.”

“eventually.” i smile. “sooner rather than later.”

***

daniel took callie on a walk. he’s been really adamant about spending at least thirty minutes a day on a walk with her. now that she’s getting a lot more balance and ability to take a lot more steps, he loves taking her to the playground a few blocks from our apartment. usually, i like to go with them, but today i made up an excuse about things i had to get done at home.

i felt especially grateful for that routine of his today, because i needed a few minutes to myself. i’ve been feeling particularly nauseated recently, and as soon as i woke up the other day, i could feel that i was pregnant again. in the past, i had always thought that when i was paranoid about being late, but now that i’ve actually experienced pregnancy, i can feel that there’s a little fetus inside of me.

daniel and i haven’t exactly been trying, but we haven’t been taking as many precautions as we were when callie was first born. now that she’s over a year old, we feel better about having another baby. we weren’t too rushed, because we lot spending time with just our little girl, but we didn’t want to wait too long and have her grow up without a sibling. having a sibling was always a priority of daniel and i’s. seeing as we both grew up with siblings, we know how important it is to have a sibling. 

my stomach fluttered with butterflies as i followed the instructions on the pregnancy test. after realizing i was pregnant with callie, i had bought a ton of tests that i didn’t end up using because it was so obvious that i was indeed pregnant. that was extremely helpful for right now when i don’t have time to go sit in traffic for thirty minutes just to go to the pharmacy. 

i sat on top of the counter, leaving the pregnancy test face down while i tried to scroll through tiktok and distract myself. it was probably the slowest five minutes of my life, other than finding out about callie. 

the timer went off on my phone. i take a deep breath and carefully lift the pregnancy test off the marble bathroom counter.

pregnant. 

[starry-seongmin]

Baby-sitting Your Younger Sibling - Jake Sim

A/n: this was long overdue and even though I had a burst of inspiration to write this and a few others, I was quite busy and was unable to take out time to write them. I hope you enjoy and if my WiFi is not being a piece of shit, I'll hopefully put out another work 🥺🥺

Christmas was drawing near and customers were rushing in to buy the best products they could get their hands on to gift their loved ones which meant only one thing for you. Extra shifts at your part time job. Trying to look at the bright side as you witnessed the customers overcrowding the mall, you thanked your stars for working here. You had easily and peacefully picked out gifts for your friends and family before the Christmas rush took over and you were glad you weren't a part of the human stampede. However, everything has its pros and cons. While you were glad you weren't getting squished among people, you were disappointed that you had to work overtime and cater to every need and inquiry of the temperamental customers.

It wouldn't have been possible for you to work overtime if it wasn't for your sweet boyfriend who had jumped at the opportunity of babysitting your little sister while you were at work. Jake was extremely devoted to your sister and she in return, was just as attached to him.

Speaking of them, you began to ponder what the two best friends were doing now seeing as you left them three hours ago and you still had two hours before your shift ended. You promised to remind yourself to check up on them when you get your break just to make sure.

While you were trying your best to be the perfect employee, your sister was having the time of her 6 year old life with your boyfriend.

"Here's your cookies and milk!" Jake announces excitedly, your sister cheering at the sight of cookies piled up on a plate and milk in her favourite glass. "I brought enough for the both of us, we'll have a secret party", he winks at her and places the plate and glasses on the table. "I have never been to a secret party!", Your sister exclaims with bright eyes. "Well, now we'll have many secret parties okay? We can also invite Y/N to some", Jake smiles at her as the both of them each bite into a cookie.

"Let's see... we organized your toy cupboard, fed your goldfish, watered your flower pot and we even caught up on My Little Pony. What shall we do next?" He asks her she finishes the last of her milk. Y/S/N seems to think for a while, her face turning into a frown only for her eyes to light up with excitement as she seemingly gets an idea.

"We can search for our Christmas presents Y/N bought!" Jake laughs at her joyous self and shakes his head. "As much as I'd love to find out what our Christmas gifts are, I don't think your sister will like it if we pried." Y/S/N's shoulders slump and a pout decorates her face. "Do you have anything else in mind?" The little girl starts to think and Jake finds her animated expression endearing. After a while of talking to herself, Y/S/N claps her little hands and runs to, Jake assumes, her room. Within 20 seconds, she returns with a large book in her hands. "My aunt got me this book for my birthday. Can we read it?"

Jake takes the book from her hands and reads the title. "Babbity Rabbit.." He stands up and walks over to the couch, Y/S/N following him. Both of them get settled, your sister tucked into his side, leaning on his arm to get a better view of the book which was on his lap. "Once upon a time there lived a little bunny..."

It was well past sunset when you inserted your key and unlocked your front door, glad to be done with today's work and to just spend time with your boyfriend and your sister. The house was engulfed in silence, not even the sound of the television.

Assuming they went out, you checked for any notes Jake might have left around or even a message saying they were out. You entered the living room and were welcomed by a bunch of toys lying haphazardly around the carpeted floor. What caught your attention was the sight of your two favourite people asleep, cuddling against each other with the book still lying open on Jake's lap.

A smile graced your lips and your heart warmed at the scene Infront of you. They looked so calm and comfortable, making you aware of your own exhaustion and craving for a good rest yourself.

You tiptoed towards them and picked up your sister and silently put her to bed, successfully without waking her up. Getting changed into comfortable clothing, you join your boyfriend who was still in dreamland, cuddling into him in place of your sister. This seemed to jolt him awake and send him to a frenzy when he realizes Y/S/N is nowhere.

Your quite laugh catches his attention, still half asleep, he processes his surroundings, chuckling softly at himself.

"Welcome home", he smiles lazily at you. "Talk later...let's sleep now please", you request your boyfriend, fighting away a yawn which threatened to escape your lips. He nods and rests his head on your shoulder, happily agreeing to your decision of going back to sleep

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (50) Celebrating

Here we go! The last chapter! And it’s a doozy! 

I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I grew up calling all of my parents friend’s ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’. Some of them I still do. Which was really fun when I dated a family friend and kept calling his mom ‘Aunt Julie’. We are not related. Fun times!

Also, there’s some nicknames in this chapter. “Peepums” is Tom. “Nonnie Cheng” is Sabine. And “Nonna Gina” is Tom’s mom. You know how grandparents all have their weird nicknames. 

Ao3 | FF.net

20 years later

—

When Marinette awoke that morning, she was alone in bed. It wasn’t that odd. Adrien had always been an early riser, but this was a different reason than just that. 

But she didn’t worry. It was best just to leave things the way they were. 

Dressing in a robe, she went downstairs to start making breakfast. The kids were old enough to get ready on their own now, and as long as they were down before 7, she didn’t bug them. 

The first into the kitchen was the youngest, Emma. A complete girly-girl and lover of all things pink and fashionable. Even at 12, she had her own sophisticated sense of style (party cultivated by her grandfather). She danced in her pink dress and adorable white flats. “What do you think, mama? Perfect for career day? Do I look like a professional?” 

“Of course you do, sweetheart.” 

She beamed. “Where’s papa?” 

“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. He couldn’t sleep last night, so he went for patrol. He hasn’t been back yet.” 

Emma frowned hard. “He’ll be there for career day though, right?” 

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world! But Peepums and Grandfather Gabriel are going to be there too.” 

“Is Peepums bringing treats?” 

“I would assume so. He never passes up a chance to bring snacks. Now, I’m making crepes, you want one or two?” 

“Just one, mama.” 

“Alright.” 

The next down the stairs was the oldest (by two minutes) Hugo. “Morning mama,” he smiled brightly. 

“There’s my birthday boy! Feel any older?” 

“No, but I feel wiser!” He joked, as he jumped on the stool by the counter. 

“Where’s Louis?” 

“Stuck in the toilet.” 

“And you mean that figuratively, right?”

He shrugged. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Crepes, blueberry, your favorite.” 

“Yes! I want five!” 

“You can have three, I don’t want you to get a tummy ache before school.” 

“Lame! Bring on the crepes!” He pounded his fists on the counter. 

“Three, and then if you aren’t stuffed, I’ll consider more.” 

Then came the unmistakable sound of a body slowly falling down the stairs, before a dark haired teen crawled across the floor and collapsed next to his mother’s legs. 

“Ah, Birthday boy part 2. Welcome to the land of the living!” 

“It should be a crime to have to wake up early on your birthday.” Said the boy, face flat against the ground.

“You truly are my child,” said Marinette with a smile. 

“Where’s pops?” Asked Hugo, digging into his second crepe. 

“Out on patrol.” 

This caused Louis to stir and look up. “Did something happen?”

“No, he just couldn’t sleep.” 

Hugo frowned. “Nightmares again? He’s been having those a lot lately.” 

“Yeah. I’m not sure why he’s having them. But you kids don’t need to worry about it.” 

“Are we still okay for our party tomorrow?” 

“Of course!” Marinette beamed. “Even if papa wasn’t feeling great, we’d still have it! Aunt Chloe reserved the rooftop pool for you, after all.”

“…I’m so excited,” said the child on the floor, with no enthusiasm. “You just can’t tell right now.”

“Well, you’re not going to get any rest on the floor. Sit in your seat and eat your crepe. I’ll make a little coffee.” 

“…yay…” 

—

Emma bounced nervously in her seat. She was flanked by Tom and Gabriel, who had both already presented for career day. 

The day was almost over, and her father hadn’t shown. 

“It’s okay, my little cupcake.” Tom assured, petting her blonde hair. “He’ll be here.” 

“And if he doesn’t make it,” added Gabriel, “It wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He’s probably out there stopping a criminal, saving lives. I know you’re the most important thing in the world to him.” 

Emma nodded, believing both of her grandfathers, but also not wanting to be one without a dad on career day. 

Through the years, Emma had gotten used to her father’s unpredictable behavior. He loved her to the end of the world and back, and would move mountains for her if he could. And most days, it really really showed. 

But some days, he just wasn’t…there. Emotionally, spiritually, or like today, physically. Her mother had similar episodes, but mostly in mood swings. She got angry sometimes, seemingly over nothing. Never directed at Emma or her brothers, thankfully, but Emma knew that there was something different about her parents. 

She knew the story. She had been told pieces of it growing up, but never allowed to watch the footage. Mama and Papa had been kidnapped and tortured, because they were superheroes, and they were never the same after. The details were vague, and she was told it would be too scary for her to handle every time she asked. But she saw the scars, heard her father’s screams at night. 

Most days, she didn’t want to know.

“Alright! I think that’s everyone!” Miss Bustier called. “Thank you all for participating in our career day! It’s awesome that we have such a wide range of jobs just in this very room!” 

Emma deflated. Her father really wasn’t coming. 

Tom laid a giant hand on her head and rubbed. 

But then, there was a knock at the window. 

“Chat Noir?” Miss Bustier asked. 

The man in black waved as she opened the window. 

“So so sorry I’m late!” He apologized, hopping into the room. “I caught a robber, and I walked him down to the police station and we had to do all this paperwork—“ 

“Papa!” Emma shouted, leaping over her desk. She ran to him, and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “You made it!”

“Just in time it seems,” he laughed, hugging her back. “I’m sorry I’m late. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course! Come on, it’s your turn to present!” She took his hand and led him up to the front of the room. “Everyone, this is my dad, Chat Noir! He’s a superhero!” 

—

The next day was Saturday, and Marinette was full of stress up to her neck. She paced poolside, as her family helped set up for the party. 

“Alright, Nino’s on music, Alya’s on Emma duty, Chloe covered catering, mom and dad have the cake, Gabriel and Emilie have decorations…what am I missing?”

“My Lady, you’ve gone over this list a hundred times. We’re fine.” 

“Drinks! I forgot the drinks!” 

Adrien pointed over at the bar. “Luka and Kagami are on drinks, remember? Luka’s making his mimosas for the adults.”

“Oh, right.” Then she pointed at him. “No alcohol, alright? Not with your medication.” 

“Oh come on, these are Luka’s mimosas! I’m gonna get krunk!” 

“Dad’s gonna get krunk?” Asked Hugo, from the pool. 

“No one is getting krunk!” Marinette poked Adrien in the chest. “Look what you started!” 

“I’m only teasing.” Adrien laughed, taking his wife’s hand. “Relax My Lady, it’s a party, a sweet 16 party! Everyone’s here to have fun. And they will as long as we relax.” 

Marinette got close, whispering conspiratorially, “that’s just the thing! Do you remember our sweet sixteen parties?” 

“Well...I didn’t have a party,” Adrien shrugged. “You, Alya, and Nino helped me escape the house and we went to the movies.” 

“Yeah, and they spent the whole time making out, so you and I just sat there awkwardly.” 

“I think I put my arm around you,” he grinned. “My very good friend.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“And your sixteenth...was that the year that Lila told everyone it was on a different day?” 

“And you were the only one who called to confirm it was on the original day, and so you were the only one that showed? Yep, that’s the one. I cried on you for 15 minutes when I realized no one else was coming.” 

“I mean, yeah, that sucked, but we still had fun with your family.” 

“My point is, this is Hugo and Louis’ sixteenth birthday. I want them to have a good one, to have what we couldn’t have.” 

“You have their gifts in your purse, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Their friends and family are coming, everything looks good, so just relax.” 

Marinette took a deep sigh. “You’re right, my love. Whatever happens, happens, and we’ve done all we can.” 

“The party will be fine, Mom.” Said Louis from a lounge chair. 

“Ah! Louis? Why aren’t you in the pool?” 

“I’m perfectly content just relaxing here. I’ll get hot soon enough and go in the pool.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Adrien wrapped an arm around his wife. “Marinette, let him alone. He’s fine. You know he’s our introvert.” 

“Mama! Papa!” Emma called, running towards them from the hotel elevator. “Look at the swimsuit grandfather Gabriel got me!” She twirled, letting the shimmery, glittery greens, teals, and purples swirl in a kaleidoscope of color. “I look like a mermaid!” 

“You sure do, Princess!” Adrien beamed. 

Emma squealed in delight before running back to Alya. 

“See? All of our kids are enjoying themselves. The guests are slowly trickling in...” he gestured to the elevator where more classmates with gifts arrived. “And no catastrophes yet.” 

“Fine fine, Kitty, I get it. I’ll have a mimosa and lighten up.” 

“Have one for me too!” He called after, as she headed to the bar. 

Soon, the guests arrived. Hugo and Louis had invited their entire class of 18 kids. Some parents stayed to help with chaperoning, and some even brought younger siblings that were friends with Emma. 

It was turning out to be a real shin-dig. 

So far, Marinette felt at ease. The four parents that had stayed were mostly just hanging out at the bar, but the kids were in the pool, and no one was drowning. 

Louis still reclined on the lounger, sunning himself. 

“You're still doing okay over here, kiddo?” 

“Mom, I’m doing so okay. So okay, it’s ridiculous. Nonna Gina brought me over a virgin mimosa, cause everyone’s talking about them. I feel like I’m on vacation.” 

“As long as you’re content, I’m happy. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling left out.” 

“Nah,” he waved her off. “I will go swimming, but I’m going to wait until after eating.” 

“Okay, kiddo.” 

Seeing Hugo happily enthralled in a cannonball contest, and Louis sunning himself like a cat, she decided to check in with her youngest. Though she saw Alya at the bar talking to Kagami, and Emma nowhere in sight. 

This used to make her panic immediately. None of her kids were especially hyper or rambunctious. They didn’t run off on their own, especially without letting her know. 

But there was still a fear, still a niggling doubt in the back of her head that said ‘what if’? 

As calm as possible, she approached the adults at the bar, and asked Alya. “Have you seen Emma?”

“She ran down to the lobby to use the bathroom,” Alya answered casually. 

“Alone?”

“Yeah, Marinette, she’s 12. She can handle going to the bathroom alone.” It was a reassurance, no judgement. Because sometimes, Adrien and Marinette needed a reminder that their children were well adjusted and had plenty of common sense.

Marinette knew that. And it wasn’t the bathroom part she was concerned about. It was the trip down to the lobby by herself. 

She heard a father speak softly, “for superheroes, they are certainly overprotective of their kids. Kind of feel sorry for them.” 

Marinette nodded at Alya, and retreated sheepishly. Was her paranoia ruining her children’s lives? 

“What’s with that look, My Lady?” Adrien asked, softly, sipping on his drink. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just…overheard something I shouldn’t dwell on.” She looked at the drink in his hands, narrowing her eyes. 

“It’s virgin!” He handed it to her. “I promised I was going to quit. Getting plastered at our kid’s birthday would be the worst time for them to find out I have a problem.” 

“It’s not a problem yet, but that’s why I want you to stop. So it doesn’t become one.”

“Hey! Let go Isaac!” Louis’ voice carried over the water. Instantly, Marinette and Adrien were alert and looked to see a larger boy pulling Louis toward the pool by the arm. 

“Hey!” Marinette called out. “Let him go! If he doesn’t want to go swimming, don’t force him!” 

“Oh come on, Lady!” The father from the bar shouted over to her. “What’s the point in having a pool party for your boys if they aren’t even going to go swimming!?”

SPLASH

Louis surfaced with a gasp, and then a defeated “aw man!” 

“Are you okay kiddo?” Marinette asked. “You didn’t have your phone on you, right?”

“No, I’m fine.” He took off his soaked shirt and dropped it on the edge of the pool with a loud plop. “Just…didn’t want to get wet yet.” 

“Dude, come on Isaac, don’t be such a turd!” Hugo chastised. 

“He looked lonely!” Isaac argued. 

“Whatever,” Louis said, defeated. “Just…don’t dunk me, okay?” 

“No promises!”

Adrien frowned at the exchange as Louis swam over closer to his brother. “Isaac, Isaac, why is that name familiar? Is that the kid that’s been picking on Louis? Why is he here?” 

“Oh,” Marinette smacked her head. “That’s what they were asking about!” 

“What? Who?” 

“A few weeks ago, the boys were asking me questions about what to do about a classmate people don’t get along with. They asked if they should include them in the party if they were inviting the rest of the class. I told them that would be the right thing to do, but I didn’t realize they were talking about Louis’ bully!” She groaned. “And it looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She glared at Isaac’s dad at the bar. 

Adrien smiled over at the pool. Both Hugo and Louis were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. It seemed Louis was already over his impromptu dunking. “Our kids are resilient. It’ll take more than that to bring them down.” 

“They are strong.” Marinette breathed. “Stronger than me.” 

It was then that Emma returned. “Hi mama, I’m back. Aunt Alya said I should check in with you because you were worried? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.” 

Marinette smiled at her. “It’s fine Emma. You told Aunt Alya, so someone knew. You just know I’m a basket case.” 

Emma frowned at her mom. “You’re not a basket case. You’re just...worried?” 

“Does that bother you? Do I make you feel trapped or smothered?” 

Adrien stared at his wife in horror. Likewise, so did Emma. “No! Not at all!” She hugged her around the waist and added, “Nonnie Cheng worries about where I am too. She says it’s because you went missing, and it’s scared her ever since. I don’t want to scare you, mom.” 

Marinette hugged Emma tightly and said, “I have the best kids in the world.” 

“In that case,” Emma grinned. “Can I have some soda?” 

“Sure, just tell Aunt Kagami what you want.”

“Thanks mom!” She beamed and scurried off. 

“And no running!” Marinette called after. “Girl’s got my clumsy streak. She’ll break her neck.” 

“Crisis averted it seems.” Said Adrien. 

“For now,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “But Ladybug never rests!” 

Adrien pecked his wife on the lips. “Someone has to be responsible.” 

“Hey pops!” Hugo called from the pool. 

“What’s up?” 

“We’re going to do a diving contest! You should join!” 

“Yeah!” 

“Come on Mr. Dupain-Cheng!” 

“Show us some Chat Noir style!” 

Marinette nudged him. “Go ahead. Show those kids how it’s done.” 

He smirked. “Okay okay.” He took off his shirt and laid it on the lounger by their bags. Then he entered the pool from the shallow end, coming up behind the kids. “How does this diving contest work?” 

“It’s easy!” Said Hugo, “we’re going to take turns coming up with unique ways to jump in the pool. Winner is the best technique, or most creative.”

“I got one!” Said a chubby kid. He climbed out of the pool and up on the diving board. 

“Make room!” Someone called. “Cannon ball champion on the loose!” 

“This is called ‘The Patrick Star’!” He bounced twice, getting real air before leaping out, parallel with the water, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. 

And he collided with the water with a resounding clap, making everyone go, ‘ooo!’ 

The kid surfaced, his entire frontside pink. “Ow.” 

The rest of the class laughed at him. 

One by one, classmates would come up with a dive, though most were a lot more elegant than the first. 

“I call this, ‘The Ladybug’.” A girl said. She ran and jumped, twisting in the air while throwing her arm, mimicking Ladybug’s yo-yo. She managed to say “bug out!” Before she hit the water. Marinette whistled. “She’s got my vote!” 

“Come on, Pops,” said Hugo. “It’s your turn!” 

“I don’t have a—“ 

“Just make something up! Go go!” 

Adrien pulled himself out of the pool and headed toward the diving board, aware of the people watching, curious. 

This was his twin boys’ special day. He had to be impressive. He had to be the cool dad. 

He took a running start, falling into a front flip as he hit the diving board. His adult weight bowed the board with force, sending him up into the air. He curled tightly into a ball, using the momentum to rotate three times, before coming out of the ball and diving seamlessly into the water. 

When he surfaced, the crowd of kids were going wild. They screamed and chanted “Dad! Dad! Dad!” 

Obviously started by his boys. 

Adrien beamed as he treaded water. Being Chat Noir was great, even with all the pain it had brought him. But being his kid’s hero was the absolute best. 

But everything came to a screeching halt as Isaac, the butthole kid, let out a loud, “EWWW!!” Grabbing everyone’s attention. “What’s wrong with your dad’s back!? It’s all gross!”

Adrien slammed his eyes shut, all at once feeling self-conscious. But this was just a dumb teenager. Maybe he didn’t know any better. But before he could gather himself to calmly explain his scars, his boys spoke up for him. 

“It’s scarring, you jerk,” said Louis. 

“He got it from being a superhero, when he was just two years older than we are!” Added Hugo. 

Isaac scoffed, “Chat Noir and Ladybug aren’t real superheroes! Not like the ones in America! All they do is rescue cats from trees and show up for charity events. They don’t even do anything anymore!”

Adrien sloppily backtracked, reaching out for the edge of the pool. 

“Just yesterday, he caught a robber! That’s not nothing!” Hugo defended. 

“Oh yeah?” Said Isaac, “My dad said that they used to fight supervillains, but they couldn’t stop the guy responsible for them! He said they’re losers and failures!” 

“Hey Jean,” said one of the parents. “Tell your kid to shut up.” 

Isaac’s father took a chug from his beer and shrugged. “Someone had to say it.” 

“Monsieur,” said Ladybug with god-like patience. “I suggest you and your son leave. I don’t feel the need to play host to someone who could be so hateful and misinformed.” 

“Misinformed?” The man, Jean, scoffed. “I was there. I saw the stream back then. I remember what it was like. The weekly akumas, classes and events always cancelled. The only reason they stopped is because Hawkmoth gave up. I don’t think you guys should be getting recognition anymore. Sorry, not sorry.” 

“Mom?” Louis called from the pool.

Jean frowned, continuing. “The rest of us have to make a living working hard, every day. You and your husband just put on some skin tight leather and prance around. Now you’re set for life. It’s disgusting.” 

“Hey man, if you don’t like it, you can leave,” said Alya. “No one invited you. I heard your son was only invited out of obligation.” 

“Mom!” Louis called again. 

“Marinette and Adrien suffered enough for a lifetime. Every day is a struggle! How dare you say otherwise!” 

“MOM!” Louis screamed. 

Marinette whipped her head over to the pool, seeing Adrien struggling to keep his head above water. Louis and Hugo were holding him up. She hurried over. “What happened? What’s wrong?” 

“He’s having an attack!” 

Tom rushed over, reaching his hands under Adrien’s arms, and pulled him out of the pool. He tried to set him on his feet, but he kept leaning forward, trying to lay down. His eyes were wide, but unfocused, as his breaths came rapidly. 

Marinette tugged on his arm. “Come on, Kitty. Not here.” She called over to Chloe. “Is there a room we can borrow for a second?”

“Follow me!” 

Louis broke off from the group, but Hugo and Marinette were quick to escort Adrien away from the party. 

“Mom?” Emma asked, right as they were about to get on the elevator. 

“It’s okay, Honey. Dad just needs a minute. Stay behind with Aunt Alya, okay?”

Emma nodded, though didn’t look convinced. 

Chloe showed them to her room, where she quickly got a towel for Adrien to wrap up in. 

Hugo and Marinette eased him down to sit on the couch. There, he slumped, his head resting on the back of the couch. 

Louis found their room, cup in hand. “I brought a coke. I know that usually helps.” 

Marinette sighed in relief. “Thank you baby,” she took the cup from him and put it in Adrien’s hand, then helped him take a sip. 

They sat for a while, watching Adrien breathe slowly and take occasional sips from his drink.

“I’m so sorry boys,” Marinette looked to them sadly. “We didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

Hugo frowned at her. “What? You guys didn’t ruin anything. Isaac’s the one that pooped on our party.”

“Yeah,” added Louis, “and we were having a great time up until now. Don’t worry about it mom.” 

Adrien very shakily brought the cup towards his face, and Marinette was quick to help, so he didn’t spill. “Dad’s going to be fine,” she explained. “Why don’t you boys get back to the party?” 

“If it’s okay, I’d like to wait until dad feels a little better. I’d feel guilty if I left,” said Louis.

“Me too,” said Hugo. “And I need a few minutes to calm down to keep from punching Isaac in the face. What he said was dumb. He has no idea what you guys do.” 

“…it shouldn’t have bothered me…” Adrien said, softly. 

“Dad?” 

“I’m okay,” he took a deep exhale. “Just…lost myself for a moment.” 

Hugo hugged him tightly around the shoulders. “Love you, dad. Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you boys…and your friends. But I’ll be alright now.” 

“You recovered pretty quickly,” Marinette noted. 

“It’s because I have my big strong boys with me.” He wrapped his arms around his sons. “There was nothing to worry about.” 

Except, there was. 

Alya burst into the room, Chloe behind her, with a look of panic. 

“Marinette, come quickly!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Emma! She’s been akumatized!!” 

—

As Emma watched her father be rushed out of the party, a stone fell into her gut. No matter how often this happened, no matter how good they got at catching the attacks, it still scared her when it happened. 

She was torn between wanting to be with him, and not wanting to see that vacant expression on his face. Her mother said it was a coping mechanism he developed a long time ago, when they had been kidnapped. He just switched his brain off when he got overwhelmed, as to not experience pain. It only happened a few times a year, only in super stressful situations where he thought about his torture. 

Emma wiped at her face as she looked over the party. Alya was chastising the adult man that had talked bad about her father, and Hugo and Louis’ friends were ripping into the kid that started the whole mess. 

Everyone was angry and yelling. 

“Emma?” Gabriel asked, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright, dear?” 

“Oh, Grandfather…” She sniffed. “I’m just…scared.” 

“Your father will be alright. It’s nothing physical, it’s just a mental state.” 

“I know…” She screwed up her lips. “But I’m scared people are going to keep saying that stuff to him. Mom acts like I’m too young to understand what’s happening…but people are forgetting that they are real superheroes, and they act like they’re mascots. I’m scared this is going to happen again.” She rubbed at her damp eyes. “He doesn’t deserve it. Neither of them do.” 

“You really love your parents, don’t you?” 

“Of course! They’re the best!”

“Then, I have a plan. Would you be willing to help?”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Come with me, we’ll speak in private.” 

Curious, Emma followed Gabriel into the hotel, down to a conference room. He locked the door behind them. 

“You remember our little secret?” 

“That I know you were Hawkmoth?” 

“Yes. My plan requires me to come out of retirement, just this once…and to akumatize you.” 

She looked startled. “You want to turn me into a supervillain?”

“Only if you agree to it, dear.” He pet her hair. “My goal is to make you a supervillain, so you can terrorize Paris and remind them of what Ladybug and Chat Noir used to do. I’ll be able to see through your eyes, so I can stop and undo any damage if something goes wrong.” 

Emma crossed her arms. “You’d make mom and dad fight me?”

“Not fight you, rescue you.”

She frowned again, thinking about it. Then she nodded. “Let’s do it!” 

Gabriel smiled at her, and opened his sports jacket, where Nooroo was hiding. “Nooroo, Dark Wings rise!” 

In a flash of purple light, Hawkmoth had returned. Inside his cane, a little white butterfly fluttered. 

Emma danced on her toes. “What kind of powers are you going to give me? I want to be pretty!” 

He chuckled at her eagerness. “Of course, my sweet Emma.” He evilized the butterfly, and then coaxed it into the paw print bracelet she was wearing. 

A purple mask appeared on her face.

“Mermaidia, I’m giving you the power of the seas. You may travel through any body of water, and turn those that oppose you into sea creatures. In exchange, you must give Chat Noir and Ladybug a taste of nostalgia. Do you accept these terms?” 

“Absolutely, Hawkmoth.” 

The dark purple fog encompassed Emma, turning the sweet blonde girl into a real mermaid, with purple hair, shimmering scales, and an abundance of glittering gold and jewels. In her hand, she held a trident. 

Hawkmoth took a bottle of water from the table, and poured it on the floor. 

Mermaidia stepped into the puddle, and disappeared. 

—

“Regardless if you feel like you’re right, it’s still your opinion. And an opinion doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole, especially to people who are hosting this party!” Shouted Alya. 

The rest of the parents were quietly watching the exchange, not really wanting to get involved. But they were also paying attention to a similar argument in the pool. 

“You are a grown adult and a parent. It’s your job to teach your kid respect and kindness, two qualities I haven’t seen from him today.” 

“Look lady, I know you’re friends with the Dupain-Cheng’s and all, but come on. It doesn’t bother you that they don’t work at all? What’s the point of them calling themselves superheroes anyway? They should just hang up the suits and get real jobs.” 

“They. Can’t.” Alya emphasized. “Did you not just see what happened to Adrien? What if he was working and he had an attack? What then, smart guy?”

“He won’t have attacks if he was doing something with his life!” 

“They are full time parents, and full time heroes! They do more than just ‘rescue cats and make celebrity appearances at charity events’! How can you be so ignorant?!”

“What did you call me!?” 

Screams came from the pool, and the argument halted. 

Mermaidia had made her appearance. 

“I am Mermaidia! You all have grown too soft and comfortable! I’m here to remind you what it was like back when there were akuma!” She laughed, pointed her trident, and turned a child into a fish. 

The party descended into madness, as Mermaidia shot rapidly. None of the teens in the pool escaped, and all turned into various fish and sea creatures. 

Isaac turned into a starfish, and Emma stuck him to her arm. “You’re coming with me. I want you to see how wrong you were.” 

Several adults had tried to escape as well, but Mermaidia stopped them in their run. 

Only those who knew the identity of Hawkmoth, or were previous Miraculous users didn’t panic. Rather, they stood staring, confused. Alya backed away carefully, and escaped into the hotel. Whether Emma purposely let her go or not, she would never know.

“Emma?” Asked Sabine. 

“I’m not Emma anymore, I’m Mermaidia!” She turned Isaac’s father into another starfish, and stuck him on her other arm. “You mocked my parents, but now, they’re the only ones that can save you! Ahahaha!” 

“Emma, stop.” Tom demanded. “You’re a good girl. We can’t let what people say get to us. People will always have their opinions that we disagree with, but we can’t take it personally.” 

“But I can take this personally!” She shouted back. “My father is the greatest man alive, and no one will doubt that when I’m through! Just you see!” 

She turned the rest of the assembled party goers into creatures, before leaping into the pool and disappearing.

—

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Alya, Chloe, Louis, and Hugo all returned to the party, only to find a bunch of fish. 

“What the…?” 

“She’s called Mermaidia,” Alya clarified. “She’s turned everyone into sea creatures. She appeared from the water, so I think she can transport through liquid.”

“She totally can, dude,” said a sea turtle from the pool. 

“Nino?” Asked Chat Noir. 

“Cha dude, what do you think? Pretty fitting for me, huh?” 

“Are you okay?”

“Totally. All the little dudes are too.” He gestured to the fish in the pool. 

“Emma turned the kid and his dad who started the argument into starfish.” Said a sea-snake. “They’re on her arms. So be careful when you attack.”

“Luka?”

“Yep.”  

“Where’s my mom and dad?” 

“Over here!” Called a walrus. There was a crab next to him, waving a claw. “We’re fine, honey. Just save Emma!” 

“Next question,” Said Ladybug, wielding her yo-yo angrily. “Where’s Gabriel?”

Chat Noir rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s focus on saving Emma, and then we’ll find him.” 

She sighed. “You’re right, as always, kitty. However, I think we might need some help with this akuma.” She opened her yo-yo and reached inside, pulling out two octagonal boxes. Then she turned to Hugo and Louis. “I hoped to give you your presents later, and hoped you wouldn’t ever have to use them. But desperate times come desperate measures.” 

Hugo and Louis smiled at each other, with excitement. 

“Louis, my wise, observant, and cunning child, this is the Miraculous of the Snake. With it, you can turn back time an infinite amount of times in a five minute duration. You will use it for the greater good.”

“Sweet.” 

“And Hugo, my brave, bold, and exuberant child, this is the Miraculous of the Turtle. With it, you can create an impenetrable shield. You will use it for the greater good.”

“Yes!” 

“Louis, to transform, simply say ’Sass, Scales Slither.’ And Hugo, your phrase is ‘Wayzz, Shell On’.”

“Sass, Scales Slither!”

“Wayzz, Shell On!” 

A flash of green and teal, and the boys were turned into superheroes. They high fived each other. 

“The Reptile Boyz are back in town!” Hugo cheered. 

“Really? ‘Boyz’ with a ‘Z’?” Chat Noir asked flatly.

“It’s cool, old man!” Said Louis. 

“Alright team, let’s focus,” Ladybug said, a bit too fondly for the situation at hand. She took out her yo-yo, and looked for intel. There was a special report live from Nadja Chamack. 

“—Mermaidia is the first Akuma in 20 years! It was thought that Hawkmoth had retired, but it seems he has one ace left up his sleeve. The akuma was last spotted at the Luxembourg park! Hopefully, Ladybug and Chat Noir are on their way! Again, this is a real akuma, so it is advised to stay indoors and away from water!” 

“She’s at the park! Let’s go!” 

—

This wasn’t nearly as scary as Emma thought it would be. In fact, she was having a lot of fun. Hawkmoth did advise her that she would be influenced by her anger, but that really didn’t seem to bother her. It was really fun to turn people into sea creatures. 

Though, she did feel really guilty when she hit people that were crying in fear. 

But that’s what her parents were here for! To undo all this! It was fine! 

“I am Mermaidia! And Ladybug and Chat Noir are your only chance for salvation!” 

“Now now Emma,” Chat Noir spoke from behind. “Go easy on us. We’re a little wet behind the ears.” 

Emma had to stomp down the urge to run and hug her father, and instead declared. “There you are, Ladybug and Chat Noir! Ready to do battle?” 

Ladybug simply crossed her arms. “If you don’t give up your akuma, you’re grounded.” 

Mermaidia stomped her foot. “You can’t ground me if you can’t catch me!” And she leapt into the fountain. 

“She’s escaping!” Cried Hugo. 

“Quick, fan out! Look for sources of water, and call as soon as you get sight of her!” 

—

This was not Hugo or Louis’ first time using a Miraculous. Every once in a while, Marinette and Adrien would allow the children to pick one out to try, and then they’d have a family game of tag out on the Paris rooftops. The rules were to stay safe, and to not allow the media to take pictures. And at the first sign of danger, they were supposed to go home and let Mom and Dad handle it. 

So the boys were familiar with their powers, but boy, they were not ready for the anxiety of an Akuma attack. 

They may have been older, but Emma was still the reigning champion of tag. 

“Find anything?” Louis asked, crossing his brother. 

“Not a scale,” said Hugo. “Have you activated your Second Chance yet?” 

“No, but I will the second we find her. Then if she escapes, we can just reverse time.” 

“Smart.” Then, Hugo’s eyes caught on something in the river. “Huh?”

“What?”

“How often do you think whales go down the Seine?” 

“Uh…never?” 

“There she is! She’s on top of it!” Hugo activated his distress beacon on his shield, making sure to keep up with Emma, but also stay out of sight. 

“We have to play this carefully. She can literally jump into the water and disappear at any second.” 

“Not if there’s no water to disappear into,” said Chat Noir, appearing from nowhere. 

Hugo resisted a scream. “D-Chat! You’re too sneaky!”

“I’ve been doing this a while, kiddo. Ladybug’s not here yet?” 

“No, what’s the plan?”

“I have half a plan…”

“Then it’s a good thing I have half of one too!” Said Ladybug, finally joining them. “After you sent your signal, I called the French Waterway Commission and had them close the lock she’s on.” 

“What did what the what?” Hugo asked. 

“The river is made up of locks,” explained Louis, “chambers that fill and empty with water so boats can travel. The ground isn’t level, and the water level changes.” 

“So Ladybug basically had them dam up the section Emma’s on right now,” said Chat.

“But she can still travel through water, so once she reaches the dam, she’ll just abandon ship, er, whale.” Hugo observed. “So then what?”

“Then we put my plan into action,” Chat cracked his knuckles, and stealthily made his way to the river bank. 

Louis and Hugo watched in fascination as Chat called his Cataclysm and touched the water. In a boiling wave, it rolled quickly past Emma, evaporating as it went. It didn’t even have time to settle, just went up in a cloud of steam. 

The whale that Emma was on run ashore, and she came to a halt. “What?”

“Nowhere to run now, little girl!” Ladybug called. 

Mermaidia jumped from the back of the whale and landed in the sand. It wasn’t even damp. Chat had literally evaporated all the water in that section of the river. 

“Second Chance!” Louis activated his bracelet. And just in time too, as Mermaidia shot a beam at Ladybug, and turned her into a dolphin. “Second Chance!”   

Time restarted, and Louis shouted. “Ladybug, dive!” 

Ladybug dove out of the way, missing the three shots Mermaidia took. 

“I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re my mother!” Emma shouted. “So let’s show Paris what a real superhero looks like, hmm?” 

“Oh you are so grounded when this is over, little lady!” She dodged another blast, and called for her Lucky Charm. 

Hugo called for Shelter while she glanced around, looking for the purpose of the tennis racket her Miraculous had bestowed upon her.

Then it dawned on her. 

A grounding wasn’t enough for her naughty child. Oh no. This called for the big guns.

The second Hugo’s Shelter faded, she shot out her yo-yo, catching Emma around the arms, and yanked her to lay across her leg. Hugo and Louis peeled the captive starfish off, while Chat took the trident. All the while Mermaidia wriggled around, fighting against the yo-yo string. 

“No akuma in the trident, my lady.” Chat Noir shrugged. 

“Oh, I’ll get it out of her.” Ladybug raised the tennis racket. “Where’s the akuma at, Emma?” 

“This is cheating!” 

“Okay, you asked for it.” And Ladybug brought the tennis racket down on her bottom, once, twice, three times before Emma cried out. “Okay okay! It’s in my bracelet! Stop! Stop!”

Chat broke the bracelet, freeing the butterfly, as Ladybug set her crying daughter down in the sand. 

She caught and purified the butterfly, and removed everyone from the bank of the river before casting her cure. 

Emma Dupain-Cheng returned, pouting, and still rubbing her behind. “I was just trying to help…” 

“Where’s your Grandfather?” 

“He’s in a conference room at the hotel. But don’t be mad at him, please…” 

Before Ladybug could yell more, Isaac and his father approached her. “Uh, Ladybug?” 

“Yes?”

“Look, I wanted to—we wanted to apologize. Thank you for rescuing us, and I’m sorry. I guess I had forgotten what it was like having akumas around. You still stopped Hawkmoth, right? Well…until today…” 

“Hawkmoth is a friend of ours now,” Ladybug clarified. “He’s paid for his crimes, but today has shown that he hasn’t quite learned the right way to deal with problems. I believe he was well intentioned, but we will be having words.” 

Isaac’s father nudged his son. “You want to say anything?” 

Isaac shyly looked at the family and admitted, “thank you for inviting to the party. No one invites me to things.” 

“Yeah, well, work on your boundary issues, and maybe it’ll happen more often,” said Louis. 

“If you guys want to head back to the hotel, I think there’s still time for cake!” Said Chat, with optimism. 

—

After the Miraculous cure restored the party, everyone gathered again and lunch was served. 

But, the Dupain-Chengs were in the conference room. Marinette and Adrien frowned at their youngest and Gabriel. 

“Now, son--” Gabriel began. 

“What were you thinking?” Adrien interrupted. 

“I was thinking that Paris needed a little reminder of all the hard work you guys did.” 

“Yeah, cool,” sniped Marinette. “Except now they think you’re out of retirement, and that’s a huge reminder that we didn’t stop you!” 

Gabriel took the brooch off. “Then here. Make it official. Tell them that this akuma was my swan-song and I made it to surrender.” 

Marinette took the brooch regardless, and put it in her bag. “I don’t know what I’ll say to the media. They’ll want to know who you are, and if you’re going to prison…and akumatizing your own granddaughter?” 

“I told him I was okay with it!” Said Emma. “I knew what I was getting into. It’s not that big of a deal!” 

“Not that big of a deal!?” 

There was a knock on the door, as Hugo and Louis peeked their heads in. “There you are, Grandfather!” 

“Hi boys,” he smiled at them, softly. 

The twins pushed passed their parents to stand in front of him, arms crossed, just like Marinette and Adrien. 

“What you did was terrible,” Said Louis. 

“So awful,” echoed Hugo. 

“You could have permanently hurt or traumatized people.” 

“Done thousands of dollars of property damage.” 

Gabriel sighed. “I know…I just—“ But he was cut off as the boys wrapped him up in a tight hug. “What?”

“Thanks for the coolest present ever!” 

“Yeah! Mom gave us our Miraculous, but the chance to use them on a real akuma!?” 

“Hey!” Shouted Emma. “I was the akuma! No thanks for me!?”

They gave her a noogie. “Thanks twerp.” 

“You’re a twerp!” 

Marinette and Gabriel met eyes. He gave a sheepish shrug. “I know I’m bad. But I deeply love my family.” 

She then gave up trying to be angry. “Alright fine. I admit it. It was fun to fight an akuma again. But it’s over now!” 

Adrien shook his head fondly. “Thanks for meddling dad.” 

“Your welcome, son.” 

“I want cake!” Hugo shouted. 

“Cake time!” 

“Yay cake!” 

“No cake for Emma. Only broccoli.” Marinette clarified. “You were naughty.” 

“Aw man!!” 

--

AND THAT’S THE END! 

Oh my word this story got AWAY from me! It was only supposed to be maybe 20 chapters when I first started on it? But here we are, a year and a half later, and over 200,000 words! I kinda can’t believe I’m done! 

Anyways, thank you all for sticking around through all the heartache. I appreciated every single review and like. And one parting question: What was your favorite part?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Daniel Michaelson: The Party

Anonymous said:                                                                            Junior executive of the company purposefully setting off Danny to see what happens! Mwahahahaha

This was requested and I put it together! I can’t remember who asked me for this any longer, though. Who was it? IDENTIFY YOURSELF so I can tag you!

CW: Implied/referenced past noncon and violence, forced drinking, Trevor Corey is a dick to a trauma victim, PTSD/trauma flashback, emotional abuse (at the end)

Tagging my people: @special-spicy-chicken, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook

Timeline: Just before The Lucky Ones

“Do you remember me?”

Danny blinks, startled by the loudness of the voice so close by him. His grip tightens on the glass in his hand - rum, St. Germain, lemon juice, and sugar. Little edible sugar violet that had floated on top at first, but Danny ate that. Ryan hadn’t said a word about him drinking flower drinks again, only ordered himself his usual rum and coke and slipped back to the party with a wink.

Danny shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t belong here anymore, with these people - he never did. But Mom and Dad wanted him here, wanted to make a show of family unity.

Like there’d ever been any.

Still, they’d had dinner catered and paid for a bartender and Danny had put on the suit that used to be tailored and now was loose everywhere but his shoulders, even though he’d put some weight back on since he came home. Nate wasn’t here, though - the whole thing about him being at this party was that if Danny agreed to show up and wear his suit and be the dutiful returned long-lost son, they’d give him more money for Nate to go to speech therapy, too, to try and shake the stammer or at least control it.

It was the only way Nate would agree to think about trying to teach again, and Danny would do anything to help Nate start back on building a foundation.

So here he is, at a company party in his parents’ house, trying not to feel his skin crawl with the memory of the way Corrine had kept a hand on his back while reintroducing him to people who hadn’t seen him since a year before he went missing.

Danny had come in and carefully ignored the framed photos in the entryway, family photos, photos of Danny and Ryan as children, the blown-up photos from the People article about his adoption. Michaelson Logging CEO Finds New Purpose With Growing Brood: ‘Family is Really the Most Important Thing in the World’.

Danny had never met the aunt whose startlingly public meltdown and disappearance had been the reason he was adopted. Neither had Ryan - Kells Michaelson, Patrick’s younger sister, might as well have vanished off the face of the earth, although she still sent Christmas cards with no return address.

Wait.

Did he just remember that?

Danny felt a hint of a proud smile on his face, before the hard-edged voice interrupted him again. 

“Hey, are you even listening to me? I’m talking to you. You really are a fucking space cadet now, huh?” The voice is a little annoyed, ragged at the edges, and Danny turns to look at who spoke to him and freezes.

Pale blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, a flash of white teeth in a smile above a perfectly tailored suit.

(don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, puppy)

No

(you haven’t been very good for me, have you?)

No no no

(even if I did let you go, I could be anywhere, at any time, you’d never be free)

No, please no

(don’t you ever fucking forget that you’re mine)

In the time it takes for his eyes to widen and his heart to start hammering inside his chest, he realizes it’s not Abraham at all. Abraham Denner is in prison, he thinks, reminds himself, chants inside his head like an incantation. It’s not him, not at all. Younger, his own age, with darker honeyed blonde hair and the eyes are a much deeper, darker blue. Nothing moves beneath the waters.

His skin’s pale, but it’s no paler than Danny’s, less freckled, still perfectly human. The man’s face isn’t eerily pretty like Abraham’s, but has a stronger jaw, a narrower mouth. At first he can’t remember who it is, but then his eyes light on the white teeth and Danny’s brain kicks up dust and supplies the white teeth are veneers, they cost Johnson Corey a pretty penny and were a birthday present for Trevor’s seventeenth birthday.

Trevor. That’s who it is, Trevor Corey.

Trevor Corey has hated Daniel Michaelson his whole fucking life, for reasons Danny never understood, and he’s staring right at him, now.

“T-Trevor,” Danny manages, his voice a little hesitant, shaking a little harder than he intends. Trevor’s smile widens at the recognition, and he holds up his own glass - just two fingers of whiskey, neat - and Danny’s hand moves without him, clinking the glasses together.

Cheers, now what the fuck do you want?

(don’t be rude, puppy)

I’m sorry, I’ll be good

“You do remember me. They said your memory’s fucked all to hell from the blows to the head.” Trevor looks away from him, down the hall and through the doorway at the crowd in the great big dining room. Most of the executives are in the far corner talking animatedly about something that just happened in Japan, while the executive kids (Trevor and Danny being the oldest, the other two dozen or so filtering down year by year to the youngest, little Nathalie - how do I remember all of this but I forgot that I owned a laptop before Abraham found me?) are scattered around the room chatting.

Ryan’s nowhere to be seen - studiously avoiding a group of people that he keeps reminding Danny are his ex’s family and Danny doesn’t remember a single one of them - and Danny feels a curl of nervous fear up his spine.

Alone alone alone.

Ryan’s just going to go outside for a second and be right back, Danny reminds himself. He’ll be right back for you, don’t move from this spot. You used to know this house but you don’t know anything now, you’ll get lost in the hallways by yourself.

Don’t move from this spot.

Stay, puppy.

(that’s my good boy, you’re so good at ‘stay’ now, aren’t you? oh, but see the pretty bruises on your knees)

“I have some, um, my, uh… Dr. Rosa thinks it’s trauma-based memory repression, not, um… not from the concussions,” Danny mutters, more into his drink than to Trevor. “They come back sometimes. Better now.”

He had a dim sense that he’d known his own birthdate for a few hours this morning, the way you just knew things like that. It was gone now - but he thought it would probably come back. Maybe.

If it didn’t, Ryan and Nate would just keep reminding him.

He’d be… whatever the next age was soon enough. Maybe he’d remember that one.

“Glad to hear it,” Trevor replies. He’s close to Danny, too close, and Danny tries to take a quick step back only for his back to bump into the wall, next to one of the large houseplants Corrine kept pretty much everywhere, the ferns and green leaves that grew glossy and dark and silky for her.

Danny had always managed to kill any houseplant he tried to keep alive, even the aloe - oh my god, I remembered the aloe plant.

“So what are you up to these days?” Trevor’s voice, impossibly, is even closer, and Danny swallows hard as the shorter man leans in. His shoulders are hunching, he can’t seem to stop them, and before long they’re nearly the same height. Danny clutches his drink like a life raft.

“I’m, um. I’m at home a lot,” Danny manages. He should tell Trevor to fuck off but he can’t, he’s not that Danny any longer. “I go to, um, to therapy and practice… going out. Sometimes. Trevor, can you, um, can you back up a little bit?”

His voice cracks a little on the question and he sees a light in Trevor’s eyes that he knows all too well. A burst of interest and fascination, and it’s not tempered by concern, not at all.

The scars on Danny’s face suddenly burn as if they’re brand new, like Abraham is shoving the muzzle onto his face right now, while he stands in the corner in a hallway in his own childhood home and Trevor Corey is way too close.

“Do you not like people to stand too close to you, Michaelson?” Trevor’s eyebrows raise, and he leans in even further, taking a sip from his own glass. Danny’s eyes dance to the side and then back, but he’s blocked off by Corrine’s plant, the people in the dining room probably can’t even see him, just Trevor, closer and closer.

Too close.

Too close too close too close

(do you get to choose, puppy? do you get to choose who touches you, ever again?)

“No,” Danny whispers, and the word feels foreign and forbidden on his tongue, coming out of his mouth. He’s not allowed to say no, ever again - but he is allowed to say no, they talked about this in therapy and Nate and Ryan tell him all the time. “No, I, um, I don’t like people to get very close to me now-”

“Why is that?” Trevor raises an eyebrow, and there’s a smirk playing across his face. Danny wants to punch him, to beat the shit out of that stupid smug fucking face he’s had to put up with his entire life - but Red is too scared and Red is sometimes louder than Danny.

“He, uh, he got… he got in my face a lot. I just. Trevor, back off, okay?” He starts out strong, he thinks, but then his voice wavers and breaks again, and he tries to curl his spine, make himself smaller. He could just walk away. He could - just stand up and walk the fuck away. He grew up in this house, even if he can’t remember it any longer, even if the layout is hiding down inside his head with all the things the past four years buried.

He can walk away from this.

But Danny’s legs won’t move, and when Trevor sets his drink down on a nearby little table covered in framed photos of Corrine, Patrick, and Ryan, Danny doesn’t do anything but watch, hear the soft thunk of the glass on the wood, and stare as Trevor turns back to him.

“I heard you flipped your shit at Starbucks a couple weeks ago,” Trevor says conversationally, and leans his hand on the wall, boxing Danny in totally between the plant and Trevor. The condensation coming off of Danny’s drink makes his fingers cold and slippery and he grips the glass as tightly as he can. “Friend of mine was there and told me all about it. Said some girls took pictures of your face.”

Danny’s breath catches and he stares at something over Trevor’s shoulder, feeling the cold slowly wash down from the top of his head, trickling through him, slipping under his skin and into his veins, all the way down to is feet.

“They said you ran to the bathroom with your brother and that friend of yours right on your heels. I have to admit - I’m so interested in what happened in that bathroom, especially since apparently the barista blocked the whole fucking hallway off to keep everyone out. Then, you come out a few minutes later - led out to the car by your friend like a little kid who threw a tantrum - and your brother tips the store a hundred dollar bill. What’d you do, Danny-man?”

I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after I realized they were looking at me, looking at my scars.

“I hate that fucking nickname.” He manages to get the words out, but they’re small, barely a whisper. The room is getting colder around him. There’s a wisp of fingers through his hair, a murmured (who’s being such a good boy today?) and Danny makes himself take a breath.

Inhale.

My name is Daniel Michaelson.

“You know what, I want to know-”

Hold for five.

“-was it taking the pictures that got you all flustered, or that they were of your fucked-up face?”

His breath stops, caught in his throat, and he can’t remember how the rest of it goes. All he can remember is and I’m the puppy and I want to be good.

Danny’s eyes drift, focus on the wall opposite him, where he can see a photo of himself, a sophomore in college at Ryan’s high school graduation. His hair was cut shorter then, and he’d tried to calm the waves and you could almost see how stiff his hair was with product.

“I don’t, um, I don’t like people looking at my face,” He mumbled, looking at himself, younger, half-smiling at the camera in a deep black T-shirt and jeans, an arm around Ryan who is smiling next to him in his cap and gown, holding his diploma up in the air like a trophy.

I went to a concert later that night. I got so stoned I could barely think, hooked up with somebody. I didn’t know, I didn’t know that I only had a couple of years left. No one told me.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t, either, if I looked like that.”

Danny felt Trevor’s hands close over his around the glass in his hand. “What are you, um-… Trev, you hate me,” Danny whispers, his throat is going to close and he can feel it, can feel the bite of the leather around his neck, the way the little tag bumps against his collarbone sometimes, glinting RED in the sunlight in the clearing…

“Yeah,” Trevor says softly. “And I’ve always wanted to see snobby stuck-up fucking Daniel fucking Michaelson brought down a peg or two without his little brother to nose his way into shit that’s none of his business.”

“Trevor, you have to move, I really need you to, um, to give me space, to stop touching me-”

“No.” Trevor leans in just a little further, his mouth nearly against Danny’s ear. No one can see him behind his mother’s stupid fucking houseplants. No one’s in this hallway. He can hear them talking, just down the hall, but he can’t get enough voice to ask for help.

Ryan, Mrs. Verona… Dad… Mom, even, just somebody, please

(do you get to decide what happens to this body now?)

No, Abraham, no, you decide, you decide what happens now, it’s yours

(who does this body belong to?)

Yours, Abraham, it’s your body, you can make it do whatever you want

Danny’s fingers try to let go of the glass, but Trevor’s are closed too tightly over them and when the rim is tilted up to his lips, Danny opens his mouth and lets Trevor pour the sweet cocktail straight down his throat.

He manages to swallow nearly all of it but some runs down the corner of his mouth, down to his throat, cold liquid warming to his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ, look at you,” Trevor breathes against his cheek, into his ear. Danny’s heart races, too fast, it can’t beat this fast or Abraham will know, he’ll get mad, he’ll get so mad and then he’ll be in trouble, he’ll be punished. “You’re such a fucking mess now, Michaelson. You used to tell me to fuck off every time you saw me and now you just stand here like a pretty little doll. Did he fuck you up in those woods, Danny-man? That’s what our guy in the courtroom said. The Coreys had someone there every day to see what your dad didn’t want us to know about, but we found out, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Danny says softly, because that’s a rule. Always answer Abraham’s questions. Abraham always knows when you’re lying.  

“Guess we know why Patrick Michaelson stopped talking about his sons inheriting the company and he only talks about the one now, even though Danny came back from the dead, huh?”

My name is Red.

(I’ll call you anything I want, puppy)

Trevor laughs, tipping the very last drops of Danny’s drink into his mouth. He takes them, he’s good, and Abraham likes to make him drink this way. Danny finds some dim part of him wondering what he’s put in the drink this time, and hopes it’s the stuff that makes him feel good first.

There’s a chuckle - it’s not quite right, it doesn’t shake through him the same way. “We found out that that Denner fucker went up there on the stand and he told everybody how good you are now…”

(don’t you want to be good for me, Red?)

Blue eyes turn to colorless ice in his mind. He sees the monster underneath.

He looks up into Abraham’s eyes. “I am good,” Danny replies, automatically, hearing the edge of a whine in his voice. “I want to be good.”

When Abraham picks the glass of brown liquor up from a small table behind him where it was sitting next to a houseplant, puts Danny’s empty glass down next to it, his eyes follow the movements but he doesn’t move.

It’s not his body, any longer, and Abraham will tell him what to do.

“Drink,” Abraham says, and Danny leans his head forward, moves his mouth to rest at the rim of the glass, and it’s bourbon - it’s bourbon Abraham wants him to drink now. Warmth in his shoulders, burning in his throat. He’ll get to feel good, first, this time.

It’s not so bad, then.

“Oh, you’re fucking gone, now,” Abraham says with delight. There’s still something wrong, something off, but Danny can’t figure out what and his brain moves like mush. He’s struggling under the weight of obedience - he shouldn’t think. He can’t think. If he thinks, he’ll break a rule. Instead, he drinks the rest of the bourbon sip by sip, and feels the world go warm around its edges, while Abraham watches the flush rise in his face, covering over the scars until they nearly look pale in comparison. “Hey, what’ll you do, like this? Shit, I gotta tell someone, I’ve waited my whole fucking life to see your bullshit torn down like this…”

Abraham pulls out his phone - it’s not the one Danny remembers, the black case with the bumpy ridges. This one is camouflage-patterned and something in him knows that’s not right, that’s not what Abraham’s phone looks like. He takes a picture of Danny’s wide blue eyes, dazed and fogged over and frightened, with the glass still pressed against his bottom lip, with the last little bits of brown liquor on his tongue.

“Now that photo I’ll keep close to home,” Abraham says. “That’s for my collection. I wonder if I could find some of the ones they talked about in court, they said that shit put them on the internet… Whatever. Let’s see what else I can get you to do.” He sets the glass back down on the table, empty now, and Danny feels the two drinks, back to back, settling into his veins, fogging the world around him.

“Anything,” Danny says. He knows how this one goes, what feeding him drinks means. He puts his wrists together and holds them up in front of himself at chest level. Sometimes if he guesses what Abraham wants to do, if he’s right, he gets hurt less for being good that way, too. “I, I can do anything you want, Abraham. I want to be good for you.”

“Oh, shit.” Abraham goes still, staring at him. “Is that what this is? You think I’m him now? Oh man. This is even better than I-”

“Trevor Corey, what are you doing with my son?”

Her voice. Danny hears the sudden snap of disappointed irritation and feels his brain click back into place, dropping his hands back down to his sides. Trevor steps back and away from him - not Abraham, it was Trevor the whole time, it was never Abraham - and Danny swallows hard as he sees his mother standing in the hallway, arms crossed, in her black cocktail dress and pearls.

For just a second, he thinks his mother’s eyes are glowing.

And purple.

“Mrs. Michaelson.” Trevor smooths down his suit along the front, clears his throat, standing nervously. “I was just talking to Danny-”

“You were bothering him. Go rejoin your father in the dining room.” When Trevor hesitates, some part of him bristling at being spoken to like a child when he is a grown man, Corrine’s eyes narrow. Not glowing at all. “I said go, Trevor.”

“Mrs. Michaelson, I was only-”

“I know what you were doing to him. I saw you take a photo of his face, and I saw what you did with your drink. You will not push my son any further tonight or you will find yourself regretting every moment from your birth until this second. I’ve changed your diapers, you know. Don’t think you intimidate me for one single solitary moment. Go find Johnson and hope to God I decide not to tell him what I just caught you at.”

When she points down the hall, Trevor shoots a glare full of hate at Danny, but he goes.

Only when he’s gone does Corrine turn her eyes back to her son, who stares back at her wide-eyed, uncertain, feeling suddenly weighed-down and exhausted. “Are you all right, Danny?”

Danny swallows, hard - he can still feel the liquor, the buzz in the back of his mind, making it all feel a little bit smooth and strange. Slowly, he nods, stepping away from the wall, crossing his arms in front of himself and hunching over just a little. “I’m okay,” He says, softly, voice a little shaky. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“Did he hurt you?” Corrine looks him over brusquely, brushes at his shoulder, ignoring the way he shudders a little at the sudden touch. “Do you need to lie down?”

“N-No. I’m, um, I’m fine. Can I… do you know where Ryan is?”

She stops mid-motion, picking a bit of lint off his sleeve. Her eyes go to his - the odd honey-colored amber eyes that she and Ryan had in common. Why had he thought they were purple? Was that part of his flashback somehow? “He went up to his room, dear. I think he got a call from, well, you know who.”

“Oh. His ex called?”

“Yes, well, I assume, since he didn’t want me to overhear it.” Corrine steps back to look at him again, and something in the hard lines of her face gentles, just a bit. “Oh, Danny. What are we going to do about all of this, hm?”

Danny’s eyes drop to the floor. He feels fourteen, not… however old he is now. Twenty-something, at least. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’ve been better. I don’t know what happened. I’ll try harder.”

“Hush. That wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Corrine’s hand pats the side of his face, and Danny is so good, he doesn’t even flinch. “Go upstairs and find your brother. I’ll let Dad know you’ll be heading home in the next few minutes once Ryan is done with his phone call, how does that sound? We’ll keep this between us. No one tells anyone, understood?”

“Sure, I, I won’t tell anybody-”

“Don’t tell your brother.” Corrine’s voice drops into seriousness and Danny blinks at her confused. “I know you two tell each other everything - you’ve always been inseparable - but he’ll only kick up a mess if he finds out Trevor acted that way. And we don’t need that sort of hostility at the company, do we? Over a little misunderstanding?”

“A… a what?”

“Trevor just didn’t understand what he was doing, did he?”

“M-Mom, he fed me my drink, he-”

“He’s always had a thing for you. Clearly he drank too much tonight and made a mistake, that’s all. Go find your brother and don’t tell him anything.” When Danny hesitates, Corrine sighs. “Right. I forgot. Go upstairs, Ryan’s room is the third one on the right. Yours is the fourth. I need to get back to the party. Will you be all right, Danny?”

“Um. Yeah, Mom. I’ll be, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” She pats him on the back, and he digs his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from pulling away. “Thank you, darling. You’re so different now that you’ve come back to us… It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Danny asks, because he doesn’t really remember who he used to be, before.

“You went through all of that horror… and you came back sweeter. People will always surprise you.” Corrine shrugs and waves him away, turning herself to head back for the dining room.

Danny stands staring after her for a long time before he looks around himself, down the hall, and tries to remember where the stairs are.

Like hell he won’t tell Ryan.

He’ll go upstairs and tell Ryan everything.

Assuming he still remembers any of it by the time he figures out how to get upstairs.

[thefifthsister-notactive]

Under The Stars

Kate’s Birthday Fic

After a morning spent with their daughter, Lily and Castle tending to her every need, he’d announced he was whisking her off for grown up time for a few hours and they’d left Lily with Alexis. She suspected they were up to something but she was content to let them have their fun.

When they rolled up to the Angelica theatre she grinned at him. He pulled two tickets from his pocket and handed them to her.

“Star Trek II: Wrath of Khan!” Castle told her, grinning at the excitement in her eyes.

“I love this movie,” Kate smiled.

“I know,” Castle held out an arm and she wrapped herself around it, following him into the cinema. She was a sci-fi geek and he was so thankful that this re-release had coincided with her birthday. They were both huge fans of this film but Kate could quote it better than he could. She was grinning like their daughter did when she was getting a treat. 

They took their seats and he wrapped an arm around her. “I always loved this movie. The first time I ever saw it was with my Grandfather. He used to show me Star Trek reruns and we’d run around the garden pretending it we were exploring another planet. You really do remind me of him.” She curled into Castle’s side, sharing popcorn and milk duds, laughing at all the sarcastic remarks Bones and Kirk made, smirking at the fight scenes and tearing up at the heart wrenching conclusion. When the credits rolled she turned to her husband and drew him in for a kiss. “Thank you. I’ve never it on the big screen. Well, not one you don't hang in the Loft.”

“Me neither.” Castle gave her another peck and helped her with her coat. “We’ve got to stop off on the way home to pick up your other present then we'll head back for dinner with the girls and our parents,” he informed her as he led the way back out onto the New York street. 

She regarded him with suspicion. He’d already given her her birthday present at breakfast with Lily, or so she had thought. A beautiful locket with a photo of Lily and the ultrasound of the twins in it that was hanging around her neck. “Okay,” she said, checking her cellphone for messages. “Dad text me to say he was on his way over.”

“We won’t be long,” he assured her. Taking her hand, he started to walk down the street with her. It was a nice day out. Not too cold, she had a little more energy and she was feeling happy to be out with her man. He was clearly trying to spoil her and she was content to let him.

“Castle, this is the planetarium.” She was confused when he turned to enter the building. "Why are we here?" She followed him in and tried to ask him more questions about what they were doing there but he avoided an answer and then someone was greeting them and ushering them towards the auditorium. 

“Castle? Rick?”

“I organised our own private viewing,” He told her as he led her into the room, the 180° dome screen was on and projecting the night sky. She looked up at it, amazed. She hadn’t been here since she was a kid and she didn’t remember it ever being so stunning.

“Oh, Rick…” 

“There’s more… just don’t hurt me,” he joked and watched her head snap down as her focus came back to him. 

“Surprise!” 

She was amazed to see the empty room suddenly filled with her family and friends as they appeared from the door they'd just entered through. Lily and Alexis held up a banner that read ‘happy birthdays across it, Jim helping Lily hold it at the same height as her sister. Martha and Lanie released balloons around the room and Ryan, Espo, Jenny, Sarah-Grace and Nick carried in an arm full of presents.

“Happy burfday Mommy!” Lily grinned. 

“Happy birthday Kate,” Castle said from her side. She smiled. Everyone she loved most in the world was standing in front of her, under the starry sky. A surprise party. He’d finally gotten her back.

“Mommy?” Lily looked worried. “Mommy sad?”

Oh, she was crying. She was so amazed right now and she hadn’t realised that tears had started.

“Oh not at all, little flower. Mommy is happy. Very happy,” Kate told her as she walked towards her daughter and Dad, holding out her arms to take Lily and cuddled her.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you everyone. This is amazing.”

“Happy birthday Katie,” Jim wrapped his arm around his girls and let his daughter compose herself a little. He gave her a squeeze and she dropped Lily down to her feet and watched her start to chase a balloon across the room.

Martha gave her a hug and then she turned to Alexis and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you,” she told her stepdaughter, knowing she’d helped Rick pull this off. 

She was hugged by her friends then, her boys wishing her well and Lanie and Jenny fawning over how good they thought she was looking, glowing is what they said. Sarah-Grace and Nick had hugs and kisses for Aunt Kate and then Rick was back at her side with an arm around her waist as he led her to a table that was laid out with catering dishes and plates to the side of the seating area. 

“Dinner?” 

“Under the stars,” Rick smiled. “We ordered from your favourite chinese place. Jim and Mother met the delivery guy here and the girls set up the table and decorations.”

“Mommy, me and Wex paint you picture!” Lily told her pointing at the banner that Alexis had now hung with the aid of Ryan and Espo.  

“You did all this? How did you even get this place for the night?”

“I know a guy." Castle shrugged. Of course. "It was actually Lily’s idea."

Kate regarded him, an eyebrow raised. Her daughter was smart, too smart, but this had Richard Castle all over it.

Castle lifted Lily and the two grinned at each other, identical, the grin they wore when they were ganging up on her. “We put our heads together. We hatched a plan, didn’t we sweetpea?” Lily nodded. “What could we give Mommy to show her how much we love her. And how much do we love Mommy?”

“To da moo and back!” Lily replied. Castle pointed up and she could see the moon. 

Kate laughed, could feel the tears threatening again and wrapped the two loves of her life in her arms, pressing kisses against her daughters cheeks and reaching up to kiss her husband. “I love you both so much.”

"Alexis has a friend that works here." Castle admitted.

"So, Alexis knows a guy?" She teased, thrilled at the cringe she got from him.

“Let’s eat before dinner gets cold,” Jim suggested. He took Lily from Rick and gave him and Kate a moment. 

“Thank you.”

“Always.” Castle kissed her, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the table.

She sat and smiled when her Dad lifted Lily into the seat next to her, sitting in the seat on the other side of his granddaughter. Rick took the seat at the head of the table next to her and she watched as everyone else sat around the table. She watched as the feast was dished out, Martha offering chicken and fries to Lily, Nick and Sarah-Grace while she watched Ryan and Espo both dive for the orange chicken only to have Lanie beat them. Alexis and Rick made sure everyone had drinks as Jim cut up Lily's food and Kate watched it all unfold. 

Sarah-Grace and Nick talked animatedly about the scenes of space playing out around their heads and Kate had to smirk at the look of awe on her little girls face, reminding her to eat her dinner when she was too distracted and eventually Jim took over helping his granddaughter with her meal. She looked on as Espo and Ryan bickered over who’d eaten more of the orange chicken than the other until Jenny told them they were worse than the kids sometimes, telling Kate she hoped the twins would be better behaved, a sentiment Kate found amusing. She loved listening to Alexis explain the constellations and the planetary bodies, watching the stars swirl by and everyone taking it in as they ate this delicious meal together. Martha told stories of plays performed in Central Park under the stars, the magic of the outdoors on a summer night and words of Shakespeare to warm the soul. When she launched into tales of romance under the stars and Castle almost choked on his kung po chicken, Kate consoled him while Alexis changed the subject and Jim took the time to say a few words. 

"Rick is the master of words but on this special occasion, he’s agreed to defer to me.” Jim said as he got to his feet.  “Katie, I’m so happy to be here celebrating this birthday with you. The day you were born is one of the greatest days of my life and for the past forty years you have made me so proud. You have given me so much love, so many memories, so much frustration, stress, late nights, many, many grey hairs." He teased. "Your mother and I, all we ever wanted was to see you happy and grow up to take the world by storm. Though the road hasn’t always been easy, for either of us, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done, everything you've accomplished and all the good you've done. You are an amazing woman, an amazing daughter, wife, mother. You gave me a family again, a beautiful granddaughter and more grandkids on the way. The love you have for them is the love I, and your Mom, have for you. Happy birthday. I love you. We all love you.”

Everyone echoed the sentiments and Kate gave her Dad a hug. “Your Mom would be so proud of you,” he told her. She held him a little tighter.

She turned to take her seat again and found Martha rolling in her birthday cake. Castle rose, to wrap his arms around her waist, Jim lifted Lily into his arms and they led everyone in a chorus of happy birthday and Kate was once again struck by an incredible wave of love she felt for this family they’d built.

 Dinner gave way to a little music and Kate opening her presents. She watched as Ryan and Castle pretended to have lightsabre duels with Nick and Sarah-Grace. Lily was content dancing with her Gram and sister to the music. Espo and Dad who were discussing baseball and every so often she would chime in but she mostly chatted with Lanie and Jenny, exchanging pregnancy tips and occasionally stepping in when the galaxy battle got a little out of hand. 

Castle took over from his mother and scooped Lily into his arms, snagging Alexis too and twirling her with one arm as the other swayed Lily. Lanie wanted to dance and Jim offered to be her partner, causing Kate to laugh as she told her best friend to “watch those hands, young lady.” 

Jim managed a dance with Kate, Lily and Alexis, before kissing his girls goodnight and offering to share a cab with Alexis and Martha. The Ryans wrangled their kids with the help of Lanie and Espo and so the Castle family were left to their own devices.

Lily wanted to be cuddled and Kate was content to sit with her little girl and stare up as the stars. Together they watched as the Universe unfolded before their eyes and Kate whispered stories of space crafts and astronauts and how when she was younger Grandpa would take her out on the porch at the cabin and look up at the stars. Maybe when the twins were old enough they'd be able to do that with her kids.

She was distracted by Castle, watching him come back to join them after making sure their family got in cabs, arms full.

“What are you doing?” 

“Making us a nest. We’re gonna do a little stargazing before we take the munchkin home to bed. I’ve got pillows and blankets and I promise to help you up after.’ He got everything set up on the floor the way he wanted, came and took Lily from her and helped Kate get comfortable before dropping down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and Lily cuddling in between them. They lay together and watched the cosmos.

“See the moon, Lil?” Kate pointed and Lily reached her arm up too. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Lily was getting sleepy and Castle gently ran his fingers through her hair, as Lily looked up at her with eyes so much like her mothers before dropping her head down to Kate's chest and curling into her. “Moo and back?”

“Yes, little flower. We love you all the way to the moon and back. Thank you for my special day.” Kate whispered as she watched her daughter's eyes flutter and shut. 

Kate snuggled closer to Castle, turning her head to drop kisses along his jaw. “Thank you. Today has been…”

“Out of this world?” Rick joked.

Kate rolled her eyes. “You blew my mind Castle.” “Told you I’d get you back. I only ever want to give you the moon and stars, Kate.”

Kate kissed him. “Thank you.” “Always.” 

AN/ Apologies for this being SO late. I had this all planned out for her birthday but life got in the way, I got sick, my Mum was in the hospital. Hope it was worth the wait. Happy birthday Beckett.

[xiaq]

Sneak peek for next week’s WDWG chapter:

Moonrise finds them in the loft with the hay doors open: cool fall air, just a hint of bite to it, encouraging goosebumps on the still-damp patches of their skin. Draco is laid on his back in another one of Harry’s too-big t-shirts, limbs akimbo on the mattress. His head is pointed toward the open doors, one elbow over his eyes. His wet hair is making a dark spot on Harry’s sheets.

Harry is sat in the open door frame, one leg tucked up to his chest, one dangling over the edge outside, a mug of tea propped on his bent knee. There are still a few Whippoorwills calling softly to each other as darkness and quiet, hand-in-hand, blanket the rolling landscape of farmland—the black silhouette of the potions barn backgrounded by an ombre blue that turns to star-spangled ink in the endless expanse of sky above them.

Harry thinks that if he ever goes back to London it will feel far too small.

“What are muggle hospitals like?” Malfoy asks, apropos of nothing.

Harry shrugs, realizes he can’t see that, and says, “I wouldn’t know.”

Malfoy rolls onto his belly, shoving hair out of his face, weight on his elbows.

“Why not? Weren’t you raised by muggles?”

“I was, yeah. But I never went to the hospital. I went to the GP a few times to get the jabs I needed for school. But nothing else.”

“Did you never get sick? Or injured?”

“Oh, loads of times. But my Aunt and Uncle…”

He stops. Considers his audience. Starts again.

“Well. I got better, each time. So I suppose I didn’t need to go, anyway.”

Malfoy doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are wide and silver and a little too knowing in the low light.

“Did you ever break a bone before Hogwarts?” Malfoy asks. “I did. My arm. I stole my cousin’s broom when I was six and crashed directly into the caterer’s tent. It was my—oh, great aunt, I believe?—it was her fifth or sixth wedding. The ceremony had to be delayed because I was the ring bearer and it took half an hour to get my arm sorted. I don’t know why everyone was so vexed, no one was hurt apart from me and I only slightly dented the cake. It still tasted fine.”

Harry chokes on a laugh, imagining it: a tiny, pointy Malfoy on a runaway broom—likely in equally tiny, formal robes.

“So?” Malfoy prompts, and Harry remembers the story started with a question.

“Ah. Yeah. Few times, I think.”

He remembers an assortment of painful nights that turned into surprised mornings. Looking back, there were a few instances where the Dursleys likely would have had to take him to the hospital within a day or two, had his magic not, apparently, decided to intervene, but there was one time in particular—

“When I was nine, I broke my leg, I think.” He kicks the leg in question against the siding of the barn—still warm from a day spent absorbing the sun.

“My uncle was on a business trip and my Aunt had gone over to the neighbor’s to borrow something or other. My cousin always took advantage of those moments and I knew I was in for it if he could find me once she left. So I hid in the attic, only I couldn’t tell from the attic when she came back, and it was dark and I couldn’t see to get back out again.”

Malfoy blinks at him. It might be encouragement; it might be boredom.

Harry continues:

“So as I was trying to crawl back out, I accidentally fell between two of the joists and went straight through the kitchen ceiling.”

“I don’t understand,” Malfoy interrupts. “Joists? Did it not have a floor?”

“Oh. No, it wasn’t a finished attic. Just insulated. So the only thing between me and the kitchen was sheetrock.”

“Ah,” he looks like he still, maybe, doesn’t understand.

“So anyway, I came crashing down while my aunt was starting dinner and—yeah, the leg hurt when I landed, but her face. And the way she screamed. It was completely worth how angry they were over the hole in the ceiling.”

Malfoy doesn’t respond and Harry feels the grin on his face slip awkwardly into a grimace.

“Anyway. I was fine the next day, so. I guess my magic took care of things if it was broken.”

“You were nine,” Malfoy says. “And your Aunt was more concerned about the kitchen ceiling than your broken leg?”

“I mean. It was a pretty big hole. And I ruined dinner on the stove. What with the plaster everywhere.”

“That’s not—“

Malfoy’s eyes have gone narrow and Harry is suddenly regretting the whole conversation. He turns his attention back to his tea that’s gone cold. He nudges it warmer until hot steam curls up from the surface like a beckoning finger. He breathes it in but doesn’t drink.

“Why were you hiding from your cousin?” Malfoy asks.

“Ah,” a safer topic. “He didn’t like me much,” Harry says. “You two would have probably got on.”

Malfoy goes silent again and when Harry glances up he looks pale.

Well. Paler.

“Did your cousin hurt you?” Malfoy asks.

“I mean. Nothing terrible. I was just small and weird and an easy target. You know how kids are.”

“I,” Malfoy says. He wets his lips.

“I’d like to apologize. For anything I ever did that hurt you. I know I was a bit of a bully at times and there were certainly some aspects of my character that were due to a flawed upbringing and hardly my fault but I do regret—well. I have regrets. So. My apologies.”

There’s an urgency in Malfoy’s tone, under the stilted formality, that Harry doesn’t understand.

He considers the sharp ball of Malfoy’s right shoulder, bone pressed tight to white skin, where the stretched collar of Harry’s shirt has fallen to mid-bicep. He thinks about the faded scars on Malfoy’s chest that he’d seen only for a brief moment as they pulled off their wet clothes outside.  

“I have regrets too,” Harry says, setting aside his mug. “And I’m—you were a right tosser at times but. I’m sorry. For the—” he gestures toward Malfoy’s chest. “I didn’t know what it would do.”

Malfoy looks blank.

“What?”

“In the bathroom. The spell I used. I didn’t know it would do that.”

“You used—how could you not know?”

“It was written in the margin of my potions book. It just said ‘for enemies’ and you were about to crucio me, so you fit the bill—”

“Because you’d just barged into the bathroom where I was crying and decided to be an utter arsehole to me!”

“And I feel bad about that now—wait. Why were you crying in the bathroom?”

He asks before he has the sense not to, but Malfoy just curls his lip and waves a hand.

“Oh, take your pick, Potter. The Dark Lord was living in my home along with an assortment of werewolves that took up tormenting me for sport. And my mother’s survival—it was clearly explained to me— depended upon my killing the headmaster of my school, which I’d been completely unable to do. Not for lack of opportunity, but because I didn’t want to kill him. But I also—my mother was—well. The point is, I was having a rather bad day. Week. Year, really.”

Oh.

Neither of them seems to know what to say after that, but they seem equally unable to look away from each other.

“I’m starting to think I made some incorrect assumptions about you,” Harry says finally.

Malfoy exhales.

“It’s possible I did the same.”

He says it soft. Maybe a little contrite.

“We both had rather shit childhoods, didn’t we?”

It startles a laugh out of Harry.

“I dunno,” Harry says. “Sounds like yours wasn’t bad at first. Broom theft and still getting to eat cake afterward? Only cake I ever had was what I snuck from the bin at night. You know my first ever birthday cake was from Hagrid when I turned eleven?”

“Jesus, Potter,” Malfoy mutters. “Alright, you win.”

Harry laughs, standing, and closes the hay doors, chaffing his hands over his bare arms. He summons two Weasley sweaters and tosses the slightly less-garish one to Malfoy.

“What are some things you wish you’d done?” Harry asks, pulling the nubby fabric over his head. “I mean. Are there things you feel like you missed out on?”

“What with my family pledging their allegiance to a storybook villain and my teenage years being lost to tyrannical madness?”

“Yeah, that.”

Malfoy sits up, strangely non-combative about donning a chunky, clearly hand-made, jumper with a giant H on it.

“All sorts,” he says, absently flopping the too-long cuffs of the sweater back and forth over his fingers. “I couldn’t ever have friends visit during holidays because there were always death eaters around having meetings. I wasn’t allowed to befriend half-bloods or muggle-borns. Didn’t have half the time I would have liked to work on coursework—not that I’m a swot or anything.”

Harry stifles a laugh at the hasty correction. “Course not.”

Malfoy looks at him suspiciously but continues: “I didn’t have the time or energy for the Slytherin common room parties or getting into trouble—well, normal trouble, like sneaking out to skinny dip in the lake or playing games of never have I ever with smuggled firewhisky. No dating. No awkward fumblings in the astronomy tower or trips to Hogsmeade with a…paramour.” He shrugs, maybe a little pink. “All sorts,” he repeats. “You?”

“I’d liked to have a pet, I think. Birthday parties. Sleepovers. Maybe played some school sports. I went to the zoo once—I wish I could have gone to more places like that. Aquariums. Museums. And at Hogwarts— Same as you, I suspect. With the parties and things. And I wish there was a way I could have spent my summer holidays at Hogwarts, as well. So I didn’t ever have to go back to my Aunt and Uncle’s.”

It occurs to him that he’s talking to Malfoy. That maybe he shouldn’t be sharing quite so much, except Malfoy has rolled back onto his belly again, his chin braced on one hand that is still completely ensconced in a knobby grey sleeve, looking up at Harry attentively.

“Strange they don’t have some sort of concession for that—especially for muggle-borns,” Draco says. “Seems like an oversight.”

He doesn’t say it with malice or judgment, just honest curiosity.

“I wonder why they don’t.”

“Hermione likely knows.”

“Probably,” he allows, the last syllable swallowed up in a yawn.

It’s early still, barely eight, but Harry is tired and he knows that Malfoy is likely exhausted as well after the last 24 hours. Especially since he hasn’t taken any of his evening potions.

Harry should go downstairs.

He should make himself a bed on the couch and tidy up the kitchen and maybe watch some TV before going to sleep.

But something anxious and pacing in his chest doesn’t want to leave Malfoy alone. Not while he’s weak and vulnerable and wearing Harry’s clothes.

Harry sighs and starts undressing.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Malfoy says, and then, a moment later, “Oh no. Don’t you dare. These sheets are clean and I’ll not have dog hair all over my—oh, honestly.”

Malfoy stops talking about the same time that Harry realizes he’s shoved his nose into Malfoy’s neck. He isn’t sure why, exactly, he’s shoved his nose into Malfoy’s neck, except that Malfoy smells rather good there—right in the soft space between throat and jaw and, as a wolf, he is strangely unbothered about violating Malfoy’s personal space.

He pulls back, remembering that Malfoy likely has a history of traumatic experiences involving wolves violating his personal space, but Draco’s heart rate is perfectly fine and he is muttering threats under his breath but he’s also shoving up his sleeves so he can scratch Harry’s ears.

So that’s fine, then.

Harry bullies him under the covers and then tucks himself against Draco’s side, chin on his ribs, feeling very pleased with himself.

“This isn’t going to become a thing,” Draco murmurs, doing something with his fingers that neither of them will ever admit is petting. “I just want you to be aware of that.”

[unfolded73]

Fiancés (1/1) -schitt’s creek ff

The fourth in the Labels series. David and Patrick visit the Brewers during their engagement. Also ended up being a sort of reaction fic to 6x08, at least partially. (ao3)

WARNING: This fic references a homophobic relative of Patrick's, and explores Patrick's fears about members of his extended family not accepting him. Also it explores some of the mistakes that Marcy may have made in the past, even though she's fully accepting now. In my headcanon, Patrick's reluctance to come out to his family had a reason.

Rated Teen, 3823 words. Previous fics in this Labels series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners

Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02, 6x04, 6x06, 6x07, 6x13, 6x14

__________________________________

Fiancé, n. a man engaged to be married

~

He’d tried to prepare himself, but really nothing could have prepared Patrick for the incongruity of David Rose standing in the middle of the living room he’d grown up in, examining the pictures on the mantel with a crooked smile.

David was in an outfit that, for him, was toned down — a white sweatshirt and a simple pair of black jeans. Patrick wondered if his fiancé was consciously trying to round off his edges in front of Patrick’s family. After all, the last item of clothing he’d seen David buy off the internet was a skirt that looked like someone had partially disassembled a pair of jeans and called it a day, so in comparison, this ensemble was positively dull. It made Patrick sad, if that’s what was in David’s head. He didn’t want David to feel like he had to hide who he was. He wanted David to be as comfortable with the Brewers as he was at home.

Not that Patrick was feeling especially comfortable either. At least his skin was back to its normal pallid colour after the engagement picture debacle the previous week, but the whole thing had left him feeling a little off. On top of that, he and David had agreed to this weekend trip under duress. Patrick had a lot of family, some of whom wouldn’t be able to make it to the wedding, so Patrick’s parents had convinced them to squeeze in a weekend trip in spite of all the other things they were juggling: visits to caterers and florists and taking care of the store, plus they had the joint bachelor party that Stevie was planning for them coming up soon. It was a lot.

Not to mention, Patrick’s one request for the weekend — that a few members of the family do an escape room together, a recent family tradition that Patrick really adored — had been nixed by his parents because they couldn’t include everyone. He’d complained to Stevie about it until she got fed up and left the store while he was mid-rant.

So here they were, and in a few hours the entire extended Brewer clan would be congregated in the backyard, scarfing down hot dogs and judging his choice of a life partner.

“You were very cute,” David said, pointing to a picture of Patrick at around seven years old. “Look at those curls.”

“Yeah, my hair still does that if I let it grow too long,” Patrick said, joining him next to the fireplace.

David looked at the top of his head. “I’d like to see that. I bet it would be devastatingly sexy if you let it grow out a little bit.”

“It’s not, trust me.”

David pressed his lips together, visibly holding in his argument. “Okay.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Okay? You’re not going to insist I grow it out before the wedding?”

“No,” David said, reaching out and petting Patrick’s hair a few times. “I was going to wait until after we’re married and then insist on it.”

“Hmm.” Patrick closed his eyes, David’s touch soothing as always. They’d driven all day yesterday, arriving at Patrick’s parents’ house too late to do more than say their hellos before collapsing into exhausted sleep in the guest bedroom, the room that used to be his. It was only upon waking that Patrick had given some thought to the teenage boy he’d been, and what he’d think to see Patrick now, in bed with a man in his childhood bedroom. He’d curled around David under the thick blankets and for several minutes just savored the fact that he was allowed to have this: a family who loved him and a man who wanted to share his life.

“Boys? Breakfast is ready!” his mother called, and David’s eyes lit up.

While they were eating, David and Marcy talked wedding details, and Patrick couldn’t help but remember similar conversations between his mother and Rachel. At least this time, listening to these discussions wasn’t giving him an anxiety stomach ache.

Patrick’s phone chimed, and he pulled it out to see a text from Stevie with a link to the spreadsheet where they were tracking RSVPs for the wedding. while you’re there can u get a final y/n from the rest of ur relatives? her accompanying message read. Patrick clicked to open the Google sheets app on his phone, scrolling through to see which names still didn’t have a reply marked.

“Hey, Mom? It looks like we haven’t gotten a reply for the wedding from Aunt Chrissy,” Patrick said.

His mother’s eyes widened a little, and then she looked down at his kitchen table. “Oh, I… I don’t think she’s feeling well enough to travel.”

Patrick frowned. “What do you mean, well enough? Is she sick?” It wouldn’t be the first time one of his relatives got seriously ill and his mother didn’t tell him right away. When he’d been at college, he’d gone days without being told that his grandfather was in hospice. To this day, he wondered how long his parents would have gone without telling him if one of his cousins hadn’t mentioned it in an email. Would they have kept it a secret through his death, and beyond, so that Patrick would have come home for Christmas and asked about granddad, with no idea that he was dead?

“Oh! No, she’s… um…” Marcy was looking anywhere but at Patrick. “She just can’t make it.”

“Will she be at the party today?” he asked, frowning at his mother’s demeanor.

“No. She won’t be here today,” Clint said, and there was something dark in his voice. Patrick sensed David tense up at his side.

“I mean, we didn’t even get an RSVP card from her, and she used to send me a birthday card every year without fail. It’s not like…” And then it dawned on him, and his stomach plummeted to the floor. He felt like an idiot. “This is about about me being gay, isn’t it?”

Marcy gave him a pained expression, and that was all he needed to know the truth.

Patrick picked up his breakfast plate and stood, his chair scraping the floor and making Marcy jump.

“The thing is,” Marcy said, “she’s gotten even more religious as she’s gotten older, and—”

“Uh huh.” He didn’t want to talk about this. “It’s fine.”

“Honey—” David started.

“It’s not fine. Believe me, we had a very heated discussion with her,” Marcy said.

The last thing Patrick wanted to think about was his mom defending him to her sister in a ‘heated discussion,’ but he couldn’t help picking at it a little more, like a scab before it had healed. “What did she say when she got the wedding invitation?” he asked, facing the sink. David came over and put a hand on his back, a hovering presence at his side.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since before your invitations went out,” Marcy said.

Patrick spun around and gaped at his mother. “You haven’t spoken.” He could remember them talking on the phone constantly when he was a little boy, his mother with the house cordless phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she cooked, and then later, the little flip phone with the pull-out antenna that was his mom’s first cell phone. She talked to Chrissy all the time, and his father used to gently rib her about it. Marcy and Chrissy, two sisters only a year apart in age who had grown up thick as thieves in a house with two brothers.

“If she isn’t going to accept my son and his partner, then I can’t have a relationship with her,” Marcy said, suddenly fierce, a mother bear protecting her cub. “It’s as simple as that.”

“What did she say about us?” he asked, and he didn’t want to know, except he desperately did want to know what could have made his mother so angry.

She shook her head. “Just some ugly things. I don’t want to say any more about it.”

Ugly things, Patrick thought. He could imagine the gist of it. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Clint said.

“Nothing,” his mother confirmed.

Clint slapped his own knees and stood up from the table, an obvious ploy to pull the ripcord on this conversation. “I’m going to start getting things set up out back. David, can you give me a hand?”

David grimaced, looking to Patrick to see what he needed. “Go ahead,” Patrick said. “I’m fine.” David squeezed his arm, his eyes filled with worry and sympathy. “I’m fine,” Patrick assured him.

“Are you sure?” David asked, visibly torn between being a model son-in-law and doing as Clint asked, and staying by Patrick’s side.

“I’m sure.” Patrick forced a smile. “I know you want some input into the whole backyard barbecue aesthetic.”

“Okay.” David hesitated another second, then kissed his cheek and followed Clint outside.

At a loss for what else to do, Patrick started washing the breakfast dishes, but his mind was like a dog with a bone. This was exactly what he’d feared, what had kept him from coming out to his family for so long. He wasn’t that close with his aunt, but she and his mother had been two peas in a pod. Was it really possible that they’d diverged so completely in their thinking? Or was his mother just doing a really good job of pretending she accepted him and David together?

When he turned around and grabbed his mother’s plate, she took hold of his arm. “Patrick, you know we support you a hundred percent, right?”

“Yeah.” But something made him add, “I mean, I’m sure a part of you wishes that I’d stayed in town and married a nice girl and had a couple of kids.”

The hurt look in his mother’s eyes stabbed him in the heart. “Of course we don’t wish that. It’s your happiness that matters.”

Patrick knew he should drop it. He knew it. His engagement party was today; now was not the time to air out the effect of his upbringing on his sexuality. But it was like now that he’d cracked the door open, or maybe now that his Aunt Chrissy had cracked the door open, everything was going to spill out and he had no power to stop it.

“Do you remember my friend Karen from high school?” Patrick asked, looking at the plate in his hand without really seeing it.

“I… your lab partner in biology?” Marcy asked.

“Yeah. She came out as bisexual that year, and when I told you that her parents were giving her a hard time about it, do you remember what you said?”

Marcy’s eyes were wide. “What did I say?”

“You said, ‘surely it would be easier for her just to date boys.’”

His mother opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“I never forgot it,” Patrick said. He remembered questioning his sexuality at one point in college and then deciding it would be easier not to go down that road. That road led somewhere difficult.

“Sweetheart—”

“And look, you said plenty of tolerant things too. You watched Will & Grace, and you shook your head disapprovingly at hatred from others. But there was always a layer of what-a-shame, isn’t-that-sad… I don’t know, tragedy to it. Like being gay was an unfortunate disease that needed our support. Like it was cancer.”

Marcy looked positively stricken. “Patrick, I didn’t feel that way. Why would you think I felt that way?”

“Because you never said anything to make me think otherwise.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I never meant… Patrick, I’m so sorry. If I indicated any sadness about someone being gay, it was just because the world was such a hard place for gay people. But things have changed. I’ve changed.”

“I know.” He set the plate back on the table and rubbed his hands over his face. “God, I didn’t mean to stir all of this up now.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat, hoping David and his father wouldn’t come back inside to find them here like this.

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Marcy said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I know we made mistakes, that we didn’t give you the space to be who you are, and I’ve spent so many nights lying awake thinking about that—”

“I don’t want that. And I don’t want you to sever your relationship with your sister on my behalf. You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, sweetheart. Chrissy knows she’s welcome to reopen communication with me if she accepts my son for who he is.” She plucked up a napkin from the napkin holder in the center of the table, dabbing at her eyes. “Until then, I can’t have her in my life.” She took a deep breath. “Now,” she said, clapping her hands as if to dismiss their heavy conversation, “let’s get this kitchen cleaned up. I’ve got a million things to do to get ready for the party.”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

~~~

When he was sufficiently motivated, David Rose was quite capable of turning on the charm, Patrick thought, watching him presiding over a table of Patrick’s cousins.

He was already aware of that, of course. David was impolite when he didn’t care what people thought of him, but Patrick had seen this version of David emerge before, particularly with vendors. He imagined this must’ve been what David was like when he ran an art gallery in New York, full of sparkling conversation. Everyone seemed to adore David, but it bothered him that it was this fake version of David they adored, not the one Patrick knew.

Picking up his tongs, Patrick opened the grill and nudged all the sausages to flip over.

“Hey, Pat,” his cousin Dennis said, bumping his shoulder. “Want another beer?”

Draining the bottle he’d been holding, Patrick tossed it into a recycling bin. “Sure.”

He watched Dennis pull two bottles from a cooler and open them. Patrick and Dennis were the same age, same grade in school, played on the same hockey team growing up. There was a time when Dennis was the closest friend Patrick had. He felt a sudden pang of regret that he’d let the family gossip tree and a couple of Instagram posts do the job of coming out to the rest of his family, even to Dennis. It had just been too exhausting, after finally telling his parents, to think about having to do it all over again with everyone else. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake, at least in the case of his former best friend.

Dennis handed him one of the bottles and then clinked their bottles together. “Working the grill at your own party, huh?”

“Dad needed a break,” Patrick explained.

“How are you doing? You look good, man.”

Patrick glanced down at himself, at his ordinary jeans and t-shirt, wondering what Dennis was seeing. Well, perhaps he was in a tighter t-shirt than he used to wear, now that he thought about it. And he knew he was in the best shape of his life — David’s appreciation of his arms was a powerful motivator. Patrick adjusted the ballcap on his head. “Thanks. You too.”

“You still playing hockey?” Dennis asked.

“Yeah, there’s a league I play in,” Patrick said. “And baseball too.”

“Oh, cool. That’s cool.”

An awkward silence settled, and Patrick couldn’t help but notice that Dennis hadn’t congratulated him, or mentioned David at all. Maybe Dennis also wasn’t okay with who he was, and was just being polite and trying his best to ignore it. Maybe Dennis was looking at Patrick’s cosmopolitan, effeminate fiancé with his demonstrative hand movements, and thinking how tragic it all was. Their poor little Pat, being regularly sodomized. Patrick wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking that there weren’t other bigots among his aunts and uncles and cousins. That there wasn’t judgement hiding behind their polite smiles.

“You know, if you’d told me when we were kids that you were gay,” Dennis said, “I would’ve been in your corner.” Patrick’s eyes snapped to his cousin, and he was awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “I hope you know that.”

The hulking homophobic creature Patrick had been conjuring in his mind dissipated into smoke. “Dennis, I didn’t know I was gay when we were kids. It was a… much more recent discovery.”

Dennis looked relieved. “Oh. Okay, I was kind of imagining you suffering in silence all that time. I felt really bad about it, man.”

“I mean, I guess I was suffering, but I couldn’t have articulated why.” He opened the grill and stuck a probe thermometer in one of the sausages, then started putting them on a clean platter.

“Yeah.” He put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re happy now.”

Patrick smiled his first genuine smile all day. “Thanks. I really am.”

“I mean, you should be. Your fiancé is… how’d you pull a guy that hot, Pat? He’s way out of your league.”

“Okay,” Patrick grumbled, taking the platter over to the food table. “He’s not that far out of my league.”

~~~

“Your family is very nice,” David said as he returned from the bathroom, his face freshly scrubbed and moisturized, his coziest pajamas on.

Patrick looked up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring down at his hands, and he offered David a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Hey, are you okay?” David sat down at his side, and then wrinkled his nose. “You probably should go shower the charcoal smell off.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna…” Patrick took a shaky breath. His heart was racing for some reason. He couldn’t understand why. And why he couldn’t seem to haul enough air into his lungs. “I’m…” He heaved another breath, and a weird noise came out of his mouth along with it. Almost like a sob. “I…”

“Oh, honey,” David said, and Patrick felt his large, comforting hands on his shoulders, smoothing down his arms, his back. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Patrick managed, a tear splashing onto his jeans. Then another. “I don’t… I don’t cry.”

“No, I think we’ve established that I’m the crier in this relationship,” David said, his hands pulling Patrick into his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just…” Patrick heaved another breath, shaky. “It’s all of it, the stress of the wedding planning and this trip… I’m just tired. I’m really tired. And the thing with my aunt, and it made me wonder… who else in the family thinks… thinks I’m…” More tears were falling, running down his cheeks and soaking into David’s sleep shirt.

“I don’t know the answer to that, but I know that I met a lot of people today who adore you and are genuinely happy for you.” David was rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And also, fuck your aunt.”

Patrick hiccuped out a small laugh. “Yeah.”

They sat there for a while, David rocking him and rubbing his back and it was so good, it was exactly what he needed, to have someone to lean on, to shoulder all of this because he just couldn’t fucking carry it all anymore.

“My mom and her sister aren’t speaking, and it’s because of me. Because of what I am,” Patrick whispered. His darkest thought. If he couldn’t say it to David, then he couldn’t say it to anyone.

“But you know that’s not your fault. It’s hers.”

“I know that intellectually, but deep down it still feels like… it feels like my fault.”

“Yeah, you should have just worked harder to not be gay,” David said.

“I know. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid. It’s human to feel that way. You just have to keep telling yourself that you are who you are and that anyone who doesn’t like it can fuck off.”

“I’m not used to feeling this way. At home, it feels good, being gay. Like I know who I am, and that I can… I can be proud.” Patrick’s stomach twisted, uncertain if he should say the next part. “I think it’s why the spray tan thing bothered me so much. It made me feel like you weren’t…” Patrick sighed and pulled out of David’s arms.

“Honey—”

“Like you weren’t proud to be marrying me. That you wanted me to be someone I’m not.”

“Patrick.” David’s face was stricken. “You think I’m not proud to be marrying you?”

“I mean, my cousin Dennis did say you’re way out of my league,” Patrick said with a smile, trying to lighten things up with a joke.

“Patrick. I couldn’t be more proud to be marrying you. Look at you! You’re so fucking smart and talented at literally everything and you’re just stupid hot—”

“Okay, David.”

“I literally tripped over my own feet the other day because I was distracted by your arms, and… and you sing and play multiple instruments, and sports—”

“You don’t care about sports.”

“I don’t, but I love that you’re good at them. You’re the one that’s out of my league. Patrick. I want to shove you in the faces of everyone who ever thought I wasn’t good enough.” David’s eyes turned glassy, and he blinked rapidly. “I want to say, look, if this amazing man thinks I’m worthy of spending his life with, then I’m… then I’m not nothing.”

“David. You’re not—”

“I couldn’t be more proud that you want to marry me.” A tear slid down David’s cheek.

Patrick leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. “Me too.” David put his arms around Patrick’s neck, and Patrick dragged his lips over to kiss his favorite spot on David’s neck before sinking more deeply into the hug.

After an amount of time that Patrick couldn’t quantify, they finally pulled apart. Patrick picked up David’s left hand, his fingers running over the gold rings.

“I figured planning a wedding with you would be better than planning one with Rachel and it is, but there are parts of it that are still stressful.”

David laughed. “Yes.”

“It’ll be a relief to just get to the part where we’re married already.”

David pulled his hand back. “You aren’t… looking forward to the wedding?”

“No, I am. I mean, not the stressful mad dash of it, not the logistics. Not whatever disaster we can’t predict that’s going to throw everything into chaos.” He took David’s hand again and looked up and smiled at the grimace on David’s face. “But standing up there and putting a ring on your finger? Saying our vows to each other? That part I’m looking forward to. And do you know why?”

“Why?”

Patrick squeezed David’s hand in his own. “Because I’m proud.”

[leigh-kelly]

If the Fates Allow: Part 2/13

Thirteen part Christmas fic loosely based on Life As We Know It. After Santana and Brittany’s best friends die, leaving their two kids behind, the ex-girlfriends are forced to move in together and raise their godchildren. Part 1

January:

Christmas was horrible. There was no other way for Santana to describe it. Ava cried the whole day because she really thought Santa might grant her wish, and then JJ had a fever. That was pretty much how the whole first month of raising two kids went, with crying and unexplained illnesses and Brittany and Santana tiptoeing around each other in the house because neither of them really remembered how to live with each other. True to what they’d said to each other on the first night in the house, Santana managed to get her boss to agree to her working from home for two days and Brittany found a job teaching dance at a small studio only a few miles from the house. Because of both of their efforts to avoid each other as much as possible, even living in the same house, they rarely saw each other and Santana was content with that. Being around Brittany made her heart hurt and her head hurt so they subconsciously took alternate shifts with dinner and bedtime, making it easier on both of them.

But JJ’s birthday was upon them and they’d agreed when they ran into each other in the living room one night that they would work together to throw him a party. John and Cassidy had always made a really big deal about Ava’s birthdays and a month and a half earlier, Santana would have figured that she’d spend the whole day avoiding Brittany at JJ’s party. But, since everything had changed, she sat down with Brittany and decided on food and cake and agreed to allow the horrible clown that Brittany had found to be the entertainment. They both figured it would be good for Ava to see that everything was normal and they sent out the invitations, knowing that the day was going to be full of emotion.

“Did you pick up the cake?” Brittany, holding JJ on her hip, asked Santana when she came into the house with a bundle of balloons from the party store.

“It’s in my car. Did you talk to the catering company?”

“They’ll be here at one. Ava doesn’t want to come out of her room.”

“Let me get the cake and then I’ll talk to her.”

“I don’t know why she listens to you and not me.” Brittany sighed.

“She likes me better, obviously.”

Santana went and got the cake and then looked at all of the decorating Brittany had done. It was starting to snow outside and Santana was concerned that maybe their guests wouldn’t show up. Part of her felt like there was something to prove by having this party, like they would be letting everyone know that they hadn’t let John and Cass down. Both of their parents were coming, all of the friends that were invited to every party they’d ever thrown but there was a gigantic hole in the house, before anyone even arrived. Santana couldn’t help the ache in her heart, she couldn’t help but think of how much she was wishing she’d spend the day avoiding Brittany with her friends still alive, how she would give anything for the awkwardness if she could just have them back.

Looking at Brittany holding JJ and washing the breakfast dishes, Santana inhaled deeply. As much as she hated to admit it, she still had feelings for that woman. Their breakup had been awful, Brittany had accused Santana of cheating on her one night when they’d been arguing about nothing and as much as it wasn’t true, Santana refused to dignify it with a response. Instead, she just packed her stuff and moved out of their apartment, staying with John and Cassidy for two weeks until she could find a place of her own. They never talked about it, not after. Santana actively avoided anything to do with the confrontation about their breakup and she never so much as called Brittany after they were done. Their last real interaction before they’d been forced to live together again was a huge fight and part of Santana wondered if Brittany still believed she’d actually cheat on her. It hurt her so much to think that someone she loved more than anyone else in the world would have actually believed that about her and sometimes when she looked at Brittany, she felt all of that old anger bubbling up. But she couldn’t think about that at the moment, not when she had Ava to deal with, not when they were only a few hours away from having a house full of guests.

“Ava.” Santana knocked on the door, then opened it. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to go to JJ’s dumb party.” Ava pouted, sitting in the center of her bed with her hands crossed over her chest. “Aunt Brittany says I have to wear the dress Mommy bought me and I don’t want to.”

“I think Aunt Brittany might understand that you don’t want to wear that.”

“Mommy bought all of my clothes and I don’t like any of them anymore.”

“I get that.” Santana nodded, sitting down on the bed beside her. “Seeing things that remind me of your Mommy and Daddy make me sad too.”

“Why don’t you like Aunt Brittany?” Ava asked, looking up at Santana with big dark eyes.

“I don’t not like Aunt Brittany.”

“You’re lying and we’re not supposed to lie. I know you don’t like her because when she comes near you, you get all shrinky.”

“It’s complicated, Ava. Aunt Brittany used to be my girlfriend, when you were too little to remember. That’s why your Mommy and Daddy asked us to take care of you and JJ.”

“Did you kiss and stuff?” Ava wrinkled her nose.

“We did kiss and stuff.”

“That’s gross, but it would be better than you getting shrinky and Aunt Brittany making that face she makes at you.”

“She makes faces at me?”

“Uh huh, like the kind Mommy made when I didn’t eat my vegetables.”

“I’ll try to be better about being shrinky, and maybe Aunt Brittany can be better about making faces.”

“Can I get a new dress?”

“If you get a new dress, does that mean you’ll come down for JJ’s party?”

“If it’s a really sparkly dress, uh huh.”

“Then okay, we’ll go get you a new dress.”

Santana came down the stairs with Ava following her and Brittany had set JJ in his high chair while she put away the dishes. Ava looked at the balloons and smiled, the first real smile Santana had seen her give since she’d moved into the house and it made her think that this party was really the right thing to do. Brittany raised an eyebrow at Ava, seeing that she was still in her pajamas, but Santana shook her head.

“Ava and I are going to the store to get her a new party dress.” Santana informed her.

“She can’t go out in her pajamas, Santana.”

“It’s a special day, so I think it’s okay.”

“Santana.” Brittany pulled her to the side, making Santana jolt at the first real contact she’d had with the other woman in two years. “You can’t always cave on everything she wants.”

“Her parents died six weeks ago.” Santana whispered. “If wearing clothes that Cass bought for her makes her sad, then I’m going to cave.”

“You’re constantly making me look like the bad guy.”

“Then quit being the bad guy.”

“Aunt Santana! You’re getting shrinky and Aunt Brittany is making the face!”

“What is she talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Santana rolled her eyes. “We’ll be back.”

Santana got Ava into her coat and boots and they went out to the store, Brittany casting disapproving glances at Santana until she was out the door. Because Santana recognized that the clothing thing was really bothering Ava, she bought her a whole array of new clothes, including the party dress, and by the time they got back to the house, there were only twenty-minutes left before the guests were set to arrive.

Luckily, the party went off without a hitch and Santana took hundreds of pictures of Ava and JJ surrounded by the people who loved them. When everyone was gone and the kids were settled into bed, Santana went down and started cleaning up. A half hour later, Brittany came down fresh from the shower and she started stacking used plates and cups to throw in the big trash bag Santana had taken out. For several minutes, they made a point not to speak to each other, but then Santana swallowed hard and found Brittany in the living room wiping down the coffee table. She didn’t really want to approach her, but after talking to Ava, she knew that she had no choice.

“We need to talk.” Santana informed Brittany.

“Yeah, we do.”

“If you’re going to yell at me about taking Ava to the store in her pajamas, then I take it back, we don’t need to talk.”

“Did you know that I read four parenting books in the first week I was here? I found them on Cass’ bookshelf and I figured that the only way to raise her kids the way she would have raised them was to read the books she read. You and I both know that she didn’t let them get away with things like that.”

“I’m not Cass.” Santana shook her head. “And I think, given the circumstances, she would have given Ava a little leeway. She didn’t want to wear the party dress because Cass bought it for her. She’s been suffering wearing clothes that remind her of her mom. I wasn’t going to force her to keep doing it after she confided in me.”

“So you went out and bought her a bunch of new clothes without even talking to me. If we’re going to do this together, we need to make decisions together.”

“I can’t make decisions with you if you’re always going to look at me like you hate me.”

“When have I ever looked at you like I hated you?” Brittany tossed a pile into the garbage bag and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Um, apparently all the time. Ava asked me why you and I don’t like each other because I shrink around you and you make faces at me.”

“It’s hard for me to be around you.” Brittany admitted quietly. “Harder than I imagined.”

“You think it’s easy for me?”

“No one said it was easy for you, Santana, but you’re the one who walked out.”

“You think I just walked out because I wanted to? You as good as pushed me out the door, Brittany.”

“This is why I don’t want to talk about the past. We’re never going to agree about what happened and it all just hurts too much.”

“You accused me of cheating on you.” Santana huffed. “What do you think I was going to do? Sit around while the person I loved accused me of that?”

“You never denied it.”

“Well I’m denying it now. All you did was prove that you didn’t care enough about me to think that I’d do that to you.”

“Then why were you acting like you were?”

“You’re the one who made it one of our rules that we don’t talk about the past. I’m not getting into this with you. Our relationship was dead and buried a long time ago. All I want to do now is get along with you enough that we can do what Cass and John asked us to do, and I don’t want Ava thinking that we hate each other.”

“Fine.” Brittany sighed. “I’ll try not to make faces at you, even when you do things that I disagree with, like let the kids have ice cream for dinner.”

“And I’ll try not to do things without talking to you first. Like it or not, we have to be a team right now.”

“You’re right.” Brittany nodded. “We did it once, we can do it again.”

[39isabop-blog]

Freddie and Jim’s Daughter

Okay, so this is just a short imaginative fanfiction I’ve whipped up. Freddie and Jim’s daughter is turning eighteen, so Freddie has decided to throw a huge party for her.

Word Count: 1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My dads went all-out for my eighteenth birthday, but I only wanted a small affair. After all, it’s hard not for a rock star to go all-out, even if Papa tried to tell him to tone it down. I’ve always been more introverted. I’m not a performer and I dread being the center of attention. I insisted that just my family and band family be there, but of course, Dad snuck in a few extra people. And by a few extra, I mean approximately 50.

Pink balloons filled the back garden of Garden Lodge, our home. Aunt Mary spent all day directing florists and caterers on behalf of Dad. Papa personally grew the bouquets that laid on each of the tables.

I went inside to change before the guests arrive. Before I was adopted, my room belonged to Dad’s cat Delilah. He still calls it Delilah’s room sometimes. Aunt Kash and I had gone shopping on Bond Street the week before and Dad insisted that we come back with no less than ten dresses, so I have something for whatever I’m in the mood for.

I choose a black sequined dress and put on some flats. I have never been one for heels. I go to my bathroom and smudge on some eyeliner and brush out my hair a last time. Understated but good, I think to myself.

“Mabel! Guests have arrived!” Dad calls in a sing-song voice up the stairs.

“Coming!” I yell back. I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror and decide that I’m decent enough for people to see me.

I dash down the stairs and to the front door, nearly punting a cat and knocking over a Japanese vase in the process. “There’s my girl!” Dad says, pulling me into a bear hug.

There’s a knock at the door and I open it. “Happy birthday!” Uncle John throws his arms out to hug me. His wife Veronica stands behind him bearing an uncomfortably large gift.

I grin and run into his arms. “Big deal, turning eighteen! How’s my favorite niece?” John asks.

“Good, good! Come in!” I shoo him inside.

John and Veronica make their way to the garden and Uncle Roger comes in behind them with Uncle Brian and Aunt Anita.

“There’s trouble!” Roger says, kissing me on each cheek.

“Not compared to you at eighteen,” Brian says, slapping Roger on the back.

“Nah, Freddie and Jim would never have a problem child. She’s perfect,” Roger winks.

“How are your studies? Have you decided on what you’re going to do at university?” Brian asks.

“Music, most likely. But I’m also interested in English literature, so we’ll see,” I smile.

“I expect no less than a doctorate from you, no matter how long it takes” Brian grins, wagging his finger.

“Okay, Uncle Bri.”

I make my way to the back garden. Dad has outdone himself this year. Arches made of pink balloons line the walls, a string quartet is playing, and waiters are circling with trays of mimosas. Though I was initially against extravagance, it’s nice to know that someone loves you enough to pull out all the stops.

That’s the way Dad has always been. He likes to show his affection in the grandest way possible, either through his music or gifts or parties. Papa’s similar, but his gestures don’t have the same grandeur. He is more likely to leave little notes, hidden for you to find, or cook your favorite meal. Either way, I know my dads love me and that’s all that matters.

All the guests finally fill in the garden. Dad dramatically swings open the doors and announces, “Let them eat cake!” I notice Papa blushing and smiling behind him.

Waiters carry in a large sheet cake with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MABEL JER HUTTON” written in blue icing. I knew instantly that it must have been Papa to order the cake; he loves calling me by my full name (“It’s beautiful, like you,” he tells me).

Dad waltzes through the guests to a piano that has been wheeled out. He sits at the bench and pats the seat beside him. I sit next to him and we both begin to play the scale exercises I always use to warm up. “Ready?” he asks.

“Ready, Dad,” I reply with a nod.

We lapse into an elaborate four-handed version of “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mabel Hutton, happy birthday to you!” all the guests sing. I notice Uncle Roger taking the highest octave he can.

Dad and I both stand up and take a bow, with all the guests applauding. I have to admit, it does feel rewarding to have an audience. Papa begins to cut the cake and pass out slices. Dad wheels me over to the mountain of presents.

“Open ours first!” Uncle John shouts.

I tear into the present and instantly squeal. It’s a poster of David Bowie signed by him. “She’s his biggest fan, and probably his only one,” Dad jokes.

I lightly punch Dad in the arm. Next, I open Uncle Brian and Aunt Anita’s gift. It’s a plush badger toy, nearly identical to the one he gave me when Dad and Papa brought me home for the first time. “What did you name the first one?” Uncle Bri asks.

“I called him Baggie, because I couldn’t say ‘badger,’” I say, “Thank you so much!” I hug them both.

Finally, Uncle Roger hands me a gift bag stuffed with tissue paper. I pull out the paper and feel something soft inside. I pull it out and shriek, “IT’S THE HAT!”

“I thought you should have the ugly old thing,” Roger laughs.

I turn the hat around in my hands. It’s a slouchy patchwork of colored stripes with an embroidered brim. I had seen internet posts dedicated to this hat. Dad has old photo albums and Roger wore the hat frequently in photographs Uncle Brian took. “Freddie used to mock me mercilessly for that hat, so what’s better revenge than for his daughter to have it?”

I laugh and put the hat on and hug Uncle Roger. “Thank you all so much, I’ve had an amazing birthday.”

“We love you!” my family says in unison back.

[pseudonymfox]

Life as we know it (2)

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: As your best friends passed away due an car accident You and Sebastian Stan become the God Parents and Caregivers of the little Baby.

This Part: Time has passed, Allison and Peter became Sophie and now it’s her first birthday and you meet someone in your shop...

Warnings: slowburn

A/N: Tags are at the end. The name Sophie is actually from the movie, didn’t choose it and I don’t change it bc is kinda funny for me :D

(Y/N) - your name, (Y/L/N) - Your last name

Masterlist  -  Series Masterlist

<<Previous Part

The time flew by and you saw Sebastian or Seb from now and then at Allison and Peter’s house, much to your dislike but you couldn’t change it either. You are the best friend of Allison and he was the best friend from Peter, there wasn’t much you could do than avoiding him. Somehow he managed to get in your way all the time and destroy your plans in his own way. He probably hates you as much as you do but that didn’t stop him, he just kept going with being an idiot. The first time you saw him again after their wedding was on the Christmas party from Allison where they also announced that she was pregnant which you were super happy with. You love kids and you would try your very best to be some kind of aunt to the little girl. Anyway on the party you brought a friend with you, his name was Steve and you just agreed to go out with you because he was being a nice guy and you thought that one date couldn’t hurt and Seb decided on this festive day to follow you around the house with a mistletoe.

He must loves it to make you uncomfortable all the time. At least you tried to have solid relationships he just brought each time a different girl with him or flirted around with girls. Time flew by again, the little baby girl was born and is named Sophie and now her first birthday stood before. Allison asked you nicely to make a few cupcakes, the birthday cake and some finger food. You even did the wedding cake for her so why not helping her out with that. Right now Sebastian and Peter are outside with Sophie to set up a few tables while you and Allison discussed a few things inside. You took the cupcakes out of the boxes while she already told you about Sophie’s doctor who could be single just because she didn’t saw a ring on his finger.

“Allison no! We already talked about this. Please I have my own ways ok?“ you said cutting her off.

“I just don’t want you end up alone (Y/N)..“ she replied and shrugged with her shoulders.

“But you want me ending up with Seb? or what about the guy who ended up being gay after our first date?or..-“ you wanted to continue the list but she already stopped you.

“Ok!ok..I got it.“ she hold her hands up in surrender.

“Let’s just stay like this, you continue making beautiful babies like Sophie and I continue making the delicious food for you.“ you winked in her direction while you took a few last details on Sophie’s birthday cake. After you put your food on a few plates, Seb and Peter came back with Sophie who recently puked Sebastian in his face. He cleaned his shirt and face at the sink while you hold Sophie for a while.

“Don’t worry Sophie your are not the first and last girl who puked in his face.“ you said while bounced he lightly in your lap.

“Haha very funny. Sophie can learn a lot more from me than from you.“ he said and dried his face.

“What? You are like an adult baby. She could learn more from a toaster.“ He just rolled his eyes.

Together you made a little speech about Sophie and shortly after came the babysitter from Sophie. They just named her the baby whisperer all the time because they insisted that she just has to take Sophie into her arms and she would stop crying and she was anyway invited to the Party. Her real name was Amy and she was a teenage girl and after she took Sophie with her to change her into a new pair of clothes you asked Allison about her.

“Really? She is the Baby whisperer?“ you asked nodding into the direction the young girl leaved the room.

“Yup seriously and if she would be older I would think that she could steal me my husband“ she mumbled back while Peter laughed and gave her a peck on her lips.

“Could you step away Seb? You smell like Baby puke.“ you said over your shoulder to him and continued watching Allison and Peter being a cute married couple. They are something like soulmates for you, they had their up and downs but at the end they couldn’t live without eachother.

“Oh really?“ he chuckled and came from behind you to hug you but you were faster to get away from him and giggled while he still tried to chase after you.Soon after the first neighbours, friends and family members filled the house. You managed to fill the food again from time to time until someone behind you which you recognized as one of the neighbours asked you something.

“Sorry Miss? Are you the caterer?“ she spoke from the couch while you noticed how the other women around her stared at you.

“Yes I am..and the best friend of Allison” you said while she patted you over to her to take a seat besides the women and her baby. They all joked a little around and complimented you about the food you made. You didn’t really like them because they are these typical housewives. They are all very nice but still a little too much for you. Later you learned that the woman's name was Deedee with her husband Scott. They all continued to ask you out about your life and which you guessed just to make nasty remarks later about it.

“Yes I am single“ you answered the next question while you tried to eat a few snacks. All of the women around just stared at you and mostly already judged you in their head.

“Well don’t worry..at least you make really good food“ she laughed sarcastically.

You just nodded and smiled at the ladies around you. At least they stopped asking about your life. You mentally praised for some kind of help and that came rather quickly because you were all called to gather around the table to sing Happy Birthday to Sophie while Allison came around the corner of the room with the cake in her hands. Peter filmed how the little girl smiled and giggled at her mother who blew the candles out. They did that from now and then to save the memories for them, Allison told you.

“Come on guys let’s take a photo with the godparents!“ Peter called as everyone stopped clapping and cheering. You and Seb stood on each side of the Sophie as the photo was taken. The day went by and after you helped to clean everything up you made your way towards your own home and literally fall in your bed and into a deep sleep. The next day you had to work again which you were wether thankful for. Over the last years you managed to open a little Shop with a little help. Everything was working out well for you there right know, you tried to expand the shop a little bit but that didn’t slowed you down, the customer kept strolling in everyday and under them was a handsome stranger who came by everyday for the last month and each time he ordered the same bacon sandwich with a black coffee and today you already saw him from outside walking to your door while you quickly got to the cash register. Normally someone else would do this for you but you wanted him to notice you and that was most likely the only way to get to know him in some kind of way.

“Let me guess. Black coffee and bacon sandwich?“ you smiled straight to him.

“Am I that obvious?“ he smiled and blushed a little bit which you found really cute. He had brown eyes, dark blond hair and is really handsome and likeable.

”Well I saw you for over the last month each day“ before you could even think about what to say you already did and cursed yourself mentally. Now he thinks I am his stalker, great (Y/N) you thought. At least he chuckled a little bit.

“How come you don’t wear a name tag like the others?“ he asked while he scratched the back of his neck.

“My name is (Y/N).” you smiled while you did his coffee and sandwich.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Sam“ he shook you hand over the counter. You gave him the little bag and he gave you the cash with a little tip and a card with his number on. You opened your mouth to say something but he was already at the door and winked one last time at you. After work you decided to take bubble bath and maybe even call Dr. Sam Nelson to ask him out. You looked for a few minutes at the card and struggled a little with yourself but now or never you decided. When would get a chance like that again and you clearly didn’t want end up alone. He didn’t pick up so you tought about leaving him a message.

“Hello? This is (Y/N) uhm- from the shop. You ordered a black coffee and a bacon sandwich. I hope you can remember because it would be-“ the sound of the beep disturbed your little speech.

“-sorry someone else is calling. Just call me back if you have time.“ you ended the call with him and took the waiting call.

“Hello?“ you asked.

“Am I speaking with (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?-“ a male voice asked you and continued.

“This is the New york police department. Allison and Peter Novak had you and Sebastian Stan as emergency contact in their phone list. We have to ask you to come here Miss (Y/L/N).“

Next Part >>

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xoxo Sophie

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