#my dad used to call me Wednesday as a kid. i used to think he was exaggerating because i always loved Wednesday

[lena-thinks-too-much]

Got tagged by @baambastic for WIP Wednesday

The rules are to post an excerpt from your most recent WIP and then tag a bunch of people. So here's a little something from the next chapter of The Best Laid Plans of Robins:

Jay breaks the silence first, cracking the lid on the pot to give the stew a quick stir. “By the way,” he says, his tone shifting to something lighter, “if you’re planning to use that knife for anything else, maybe wipe the carrot gunk off first. Unless you’re into cross-contamination.” Tim rolls his eyes, reaching for a rag. “I think I’ll live.” “Sure,” Jay shoots back, smirking. “Until you don’t. Food poisoning is a silent killer, kid.” Tim huffs a laugh despite himself, wiping down the knife. It’s weird how quickly Jay can flip the mood. It’s even weirder how natural it feels when he does. “I’m guessing you’ve survived worse,” Tim says, watching as Jay grabs a spice jar and shakes some into the pot with practiced ease. Jay flashes a grin over his shoulder. “You’d be right. I’ve seen people taken out by a bad shrimp cocktail. Food safety’s serious business.” Tim raises an eyebrow. “That’s… oddly specific.” “Life’s oddly specific,” Jay says with a shrug, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Tim shakes his head, snorting as he finishes wiping down the cutting board. Objectively, Jay is a weird person. He’s this towering ex-mercenary—or whatever his backstory actually is. Jay refuses to share, but the few anecdotes he’s let slip are straight-up insane. And yet here he is, standing in Drake Manor, making stew, and lecturing about food safety like he’s a suburban dad. Or the FDA. Could be either really. It’s undeniably bizarre. “You’re thinking too hard,” Jay says, snapping Tim out of his thoughts. Tim blinks. “What?” Jay points a wooden spoon at him with a knowing smirk “You’ve got that look. The one that screams, ‘I’m solving twenty problems in my head and pretending I don’t have feelings.’” Tim scowls. That’s a really pointed description that sounds uncomfortably like Bruce. Tim internally cringes at the thought. “I do not have a look.” “Kid, you have the look,” Jay counters, leaning casually against the counter. “It’s practically your resting face. I’m surprised your teachers don’t call you out for it.” Tim hesitates for just a beat too long, and Jay’s smirk sharpens. “Not that you’d know anything about teachers calling you out, right?” Jay adds with just the right amount of edge to keep Tim on guard. Tim shakes his head and tries to shake off the weird feeling. “You’re ridiculous.” “And you’re dodging,” Jay says, clearly enjoying this. Tim suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, but there’s something about Jay’s banter that feels less like an intrusion and more like something... normal. He shifts his focus back to the cutting board that he’s wiping down. “So, what are we calling this stew?” Jay grins, catching the deflection but letting it slide. “Classic Jay Peters Mystery Stew,” he announces with a flourish. “Guaranteed to taste like something—or your money back.” Tim snorts. “Comforting.” “Relax, it’s good,” Jay says, grabbing two bowls. “Unless you’re allergic to awesome, in which case, we’ve got bigger problems.”

@gothamite-rambler @timdrakewhump @yjcorefourenjoyer @derp-a-la-sheep @violent138

Thanks for tagging me!

[timeisacephalopod]

On one hand I would love to watch Wednesday, but I've watched reviews and even before that the trailers for it told me it was Addams Family themed Riverdale and that's exactly what the reviews said too 🥹🥹🥹

[fathomlessgaze]

bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.  

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient. 

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily. 

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor. 

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago. 

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,” he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.” 

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw. 

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child. 

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face. 

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.” 

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth. 

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl. 

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?” 

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way. 

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer. 

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?” 

“would you like to do paperwork with me?” 

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!” 

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?” 

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.” 

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age. 

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know. 

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.” 

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.” 

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his. 

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.  

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness. 

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!” 

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?” 

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father. 

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek. 

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips. 

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?” 

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim. 

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace. 

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?” 

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers. 

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?” 

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles. 

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?” 

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first. 

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!” 

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband. 

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.” 

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes. 

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

[iammattswife]

20 year olds playing with kids toys (Matt’s daughter joins)

-

DadMatt DadMatt DadMatt !!!

I haven't written in so fucking long please excuse how terrible this is.

-

Also I named the daughter Kiara cus I like the name and wanna name my kid that, was literally so close to naming his wife after me.

-

“This is the Fairy-Corn Princess Surprise, I didn’t think we needed this. This was one of the last things we grabbed but Matt thought we needed it because it has over 35 princess surprises inside” Nick states as he puts the egg-shaped toy down on the counter, prepared to start opening up their first toy.

“Well, I also thought Kiara would like it- she’s been obsessed with fairies recently, figured why not get it for the video then give it to her”

As they’re opening the egg, commenting on the unicorn inside Matt notices something on the instructions paper, excitedly, he gasps. “You can wear the wings!” he exclaims

“Okay hold on this is important- How do you get the wings off!?”

“This is about to get real. Hold on I’m getting Kiara”

“Sweetheart!” Matt can be heard in the background of the camera, calling out for his daughter as he’s walking towards the living room where his 3-year-old daughter is sitting on the carpet having a tea party with her mom, Ella (her soft, adorable, stuffed bear) and Ivy (the family’s cat).

“Hey cutie I have something for you” Kiara jolted up, excitedly, her dad always had the best gifts. She jumped up into his arms, him catching her with ease, used to her liking to be held. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and her face in his neck as he softly rubbed her back with his right hand, holding her up with his left.

He turned around going back to the kitchen but before getting in front of the camera he softly asked, “Are you okay with being in the video baby?” she nodded, excited for what her dad had for her. “You sure? I need words, princess, if you don’t want to be in it, I can show you after we’re done. There’s no pressure I want you to be comfortable”

“I’m sure daddy” she nodded her head to him. “I’m always comfortable with you” she added, making his heart melt and his smile widen, his eyes gleaming with content. “I’m glad baby, want nothing more but for you to be happy and comfortable” he says, kissing her head as he walks towards the counter where his brothers are waiting for him.

Usually, Matt and his brothers would film their Wednesday video earlier in the morning so Kiara would be in preschool at the time. However, she recently fell victim to the flu which resulted in her parents keeping her home for a few days. It was now getting later in the night and Kiara had gotten out of the bathtub a few hours ago, While she was getting dressed in her favourite pyjama set- long sleeve pink top with “princess” written on it with a cute sparkly crown and pants with the same design on the right leg, she had made both her mama and dada promise to have a sleepover in her room that night- as she always does when she’s sick.

Matt was not going to break that promise. So, although it was late, and an hour past the girls' bedtime, they let her stay awake until they finished filming.

“Hey pretty girl” Chris says to Kiara looking at her in Matt’s arms as he sits back down next to him, putting Kiara on his lap. “FAIRY WINGS!” Kiara exclaims, her eyes widening as she looks on the counter quickly snatching them as if a robber was going to come for them.

“Jesus Christ girl no one’s stealing them from you” Nick states as Matt laughs at his daughter’s excitement and possessiveness over the wings.

“You want me to put them on you?”

“Yes! Please I want to be a princess fairy” She quickly replies, dragging out the words. “Alright come on”

Matt grabs her from her hips and sets her up on the counter, her fuzzy socks keeping her warm from the cold. She turns around facing her dad ready for him to put the wings on her, so she could be a real princess fairy, with real fairy wings.

“Arms up” Matt tells her as he sees his wife leaning on the entry to the kitchen, watching her favourite people in amusement.

Kiara quickly puts her arms up causing her shirt to slide up with her- “you’re getting taller baby we need to get you big girl pyjamas” Matt says as he puts her shirt back down knowing the weirdos that are on the internet.

He’s careful with his words, most people would say “bigger” but he did not want his daughter to overthink his wording, even if she was only an innocent 3-year-old unaware of society’s criticism on “bigger” people.

“No I like these want to wear em’ foever’ and ever” she replies, absolutely shocked by the idea of getting rid of her super special perfect princess pyjamas

“We could get you similar ones baby just a size up since you’re growing up- you’ve had those for over a year baby you’re getting older” Matt says as he ties the string of the fairy wings around his daughter's chest, already planning the new pyjamas he’s going to get her.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to tie behind her, isn’t it?”

“Nick it’s wings dude”

“Yeah dude”

They all chuckle at Kiara’s agreement with her uncle Chris.

Matt ties a bow with the strings. “Is that good? Not too tight right?”  He asks not wanting the pressure tied around her to hurt his baby girl.

Kiara grabs the stuffed unicorn from the counter hugging it tightly around her chest as she jumps back onto her dad's lap. “Wait Kia here” her mama says handing her the tiara and wand, going to stand behind Matt with her arms on his shoulders “Thankyou mommy, now I’m a true princess fairy” she gleams happily.

“Wait who did we get?” Matt says looking over the paper that came with the toy as he leans back into his wife while another arm is wrapped around his daughter, making sure she doesn’t fall off his lap. 

“That’s Ruby”

“That’s clearly Ruby, Matt”

“Is it Ruby?” he says as he looks at the unicorn in his daughter's grip.

“Oh then they want you to collect them all so it’s a scam”

“There’s more? I want them all! Can I have more please?” Kiara asks hopefully giving her dad those eyes that he can never say no to. “I don’t think we can get them all sweetheart, there's too many but we can get another one next time we go to Target” Matt’s wife replies before he manages to, knowing he would’ve said yes and bought her thousands of dollars’ worth of these toys if she didn’t step in.

-

As the boys look over the next toy Kiara plays around with Ivy in the kitchen, getting bored from the lack of princess toys and wings. She can still hear her dad and uncles talking and looking over toys, when another toy comes up and her dad says, “Oh you got to turn her on” they all erupt in laughter.

She looks up, confused about what’s so funny about turning on a toy so you can play with it. “I meant like on the bottom dude, the actual power button- you guys are sick” Matt says as the laughter calms down, Kiara, confused, asks her dad “What other way would you turn her on?”

“Oh sweetie I think your dad knows plenty of ways to turn a woman on especially your mum” Chris gets slapped in the back of his head. “Don’t say that Chris” Matt says in shock, not wanting to explain to his daughter what they’re talking about. “Why?” Kiara asks, still confused.

“See Kiara when two people love each other very much” Chris starts only to be stopped by Matt once again. “Like my mommy and daddy?” she questions, Chris is unable to answer as Matt’s hands are over his mouth, blocking out his words.

“Exactly like your mommy and daddy”

“Nick!” Matt exclaims in shock.

“I’m confused” Kiara states looking at them annoyed.

“Don’t worry about it baby, Uncle Chris and Uncle Nick are being stupid as usual, ignore them” Matt replies hoping she’ll let it go.

“Do you turn mommy on?” She wonders trying to get to the bottom of this. Loud laughter erupts from the girls’ uncles. “Uhm- well you know when me and mommy kiss?” Matt says to her, trying to get around it without having to lie or keep something from his daughter, after all, it’s a normal thing. As she nods, he continues “Well- It has to do with that, okay? It’s only done when two people are in love and married” Matt is obviously aware that two people do not have to be in love or married to kiss or "turn eachother on" but he didnt want his baby knowing that.

“Oh okay” Kiara replies, pleased with the answer of knowing more about love.

She’s always loved love, especially when it has to do with her parents, she loves knowing they are in love, she loves watching them kiss, laugh and hold each other. She believes she got lucky to have parents so in love.

“Pretend this is my second kid, okay? You guys are uncles again and Kiara has a sibling” Matt says as he starts feeding the toy lamb its bottle.

He starts having déjà vu of when Kiara still drank out of the bottle, he misses those times but is so happy to see her grow up.

He starts to picture himself feeding their second kid, knowing the “pretend” would soon be real as the married couple found out the night before that they’re 6 weeks pregnant and expecting their second. He was so excited and couldn’t wait to start telling people he was going to have another baby, especially couldn’t wait to tell Kiara she was getting a baby sister- or brother, but he secretly wished it would be another girl.

-

As Matt is playing around with the Barbie doll he and his brothers opened he feels a tug on his pant leg, he looks down and sees his daughter who previously left to go potty back in the kitchen, he notices she has taken off her tiara and tried to tie her hair up, she always had issues with turning the hair tie, but she’s trying hard to learn to do her hair and he’s proud of that. “Yeah baby?” He asked her as he looked down at her as his brothers continued to play with the doll.

“Can you put my hair up please” she mumbles, getting tired.

“Yeah, baby of course” He lifts her, setting her down on his lap

“What do you want sweetie? Ponytail?” He asks her as he starts gently leading her curly hair back and grabbing it all together, untying some strands that got stuck on her fairy wings.

“Can you do a braid please”

“Yep” He replies, gently stroking his hand over her head as he kisses the back of her head, starting to separate the hair pieces for the braid.

He can notice she’s getting tired, it’s well past her bedtime now but what worries him is when he hears a sniffle “Are you okay sweetheart?” he asks in worry that she’s crying as he finishes up the braid. She wipes her nose with her long sleeve “Yeah daddy, just have to blow my nose” Matt sighs in relief, knowing she’s not upset just sick.

He grabs a hair tie from his wrist where he always keeps extras in case she or his wife needs one.

He ties the end of her hair, makeing sure to keep the braid secure.

He grabs a small packet of tissues that he stored in his pants in case she needed to blow, knowing how annoying a runny nose could be, he opens one up for her and holds it in front of her nose as she blows on it, he scrunches it up and puts it away on the counter to throw away later.

Matt continues with the video keeping Kiara snuggled up on his lap as she too starts to play with the Barbie dolls.

-

Kiara is now softly held in her mom’s arms as she walks back into the kitchen, “Hey you guys almost done? She doesn’t want to sleep without you there Matt”

He looks up, eyes gleaming as he sees his two favourite girls walk in the room “Yeah we’re practically done just have to do the outro” Nick replies as Matt leans closer to his girls, pretending to knock on both of their heads with the toy hammer, making both of them giggle.

“Daddy is like Bob the builder with the belt” Kiara states, laughing at her dad.

“Oh yeah?” Matt replies, starting to tickle her which causes her to laugh and her mom to giggle at them.

Matt grabs her out of her mama's arms and tightly hugs her close to him, grabbing his wife’s hand and pulling her into the hug as well.

“Family hug” he exclaims giggly, as he kisses his daughter's head, then his wife, and pretends to kiss his wife's belly knowing he can’t do that without striking suspicion.

“Also, just in case you guys are wondering we’re not throwing all of this away, my mom’s going to donate it to some little kids she knows” Nick tells the camera.

“Kids in need” Matt adds.

“Except unicorn and wings” Kiara chimes in.

They all laugh at her eagerness for the unicorn and its wings, “Except for the unicorn and its wings, Kiara wants to keep them” Nick adds to his previous statement.

“I want to keep everything, but I can share” The girl adds.

“So kids will have fun with these toys” Nick starts to continue talking directly to the camera but Kiara interrupts.

“Can we give the kids my old toys too? And the ones I don’t play with? I think some of them would like my toys”

“I think some kids will love your toys sweetie” Her mom adds, proud of her daughter for wanting to donate,

“Yeah Kia that’s great”

“That’s so sweet of you Kiara I’m sure they’ll appreciate it”

Matt gleams brightly at his daughter “I’m glad you want to donate Kiara that’s really good” He says proudly

“You’re so sweet and kind” he kisses her cheek.

“Sweetest girl in the world” her mama continues, kissing her other cheek.

Matt leans closer to his wife, pressing a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Did that turn mommy on?" She asks referring to their previous conversation.

Lond laughter erupts from all of the boys.

"What!?" Matt's wife exclaims confused as they all continue laughing

-

“Okay, we’ll see you guys next Friday!”

“Bye!” Kiara says as she continues to drag out the word, waving goodbye to the camera.

-

Comments:

Fan1: OMG KIARA!!! MISSED SEEING HER IN VIDEOS

Fan2: came for the triplets, stayed for kiara

Fan3: MATTS SUCH A GOOD DAD?? AND HE KNOWS HOW TO BRAID???

Fan4: the way he holds her and is so gentle with her 😭😭😭 wish i had a dad

Fan5: the facr that he made sure zhe was okay being on camera is so so cute and adorable and hot and sexy

^iammattswife: so real for that comment

Fan6: Need more kiara content please

Fan7: THE TURNING HER ON JOKES LMAOSOO

Fan8: Kiara is so sweet u can tell shes being raised right

-

Tags: @cindylcuwho @keerahsturn

[queenie-ofthe-void]

🪱🧠Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

Tagged by @wheneverfeasible 💜 I'm a week late but I got there. This is also me tagging you back!

~~~

I'm thinking about Steve Harrington growing up hating everyone.

His dad is cruel, so he hates him.

His mom tells him men are dogs. Men are pigs. Men will do or say anything to get what they want. So he hates her.

The boys at school are cruel like his dad, just like his mom warned him, so he hates them.

He starts high school. He's tall, with big eyes, thick hair, and cute lips. Girls were nice to him, he thought they were friends. But they only did what they did and said what they said to crawl under him and wield him like a trophy. So he hates them.

Hates them less when he's buried inside them. Hates them more when they leave the same night.

He's a man now, just like his dad. So he hates himself.

Carol's the same as other girls, but different. She leaves but comes back sometimes. Hangs around. She meets Tommy, and Steve likes Tommy. But they're mean to Nancy, and Nancy's the only thing Steve loves. So he hates them too.

He hates Billy. Hates him as much as he hates his father. Billy's easy to hate.

Nancy thinks he's bullshit. He tries to hate her, but it's hard.

The kids... he can't find a reason to hate them. They're loud and obnoxious and snappy, but they like him. They always come around. They call him out when he's bitchy, and he likes that. He chases after them, drives them around. Shoots hoops with Lucas, let's Max teach him how to skateboard, does most of the heavy lifting for Dustin's experiments.

There's no way he can hate them.

And that's when he realizes how fucking draining it is to hate that many people. He's exhausted. So he decides to stop.

Robin wants him to hate her. She's desperate for it because that would make everything so much easier. He doesn't hate her. And she finds she can't hate him in return.

Eddie's the first person he meets who likes him. Doesn't want anything from him, isn't using him, doesn't hate him, doesn't just see him as a protector or babysitter or a good fuck or a failure or an idiot. Eddie likes him for him, exactly the way he is.

It's easy to love Eddie.

@runninriot @carolperkinsexgirlfriend @sadisticaltarts @devondespresso @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

@strangersteddierthings

[rosyhoneydew]

🍎 + bucktommy

yay I love this one! Thank you for the prompt, Lorri 🫶!

🍎 apple & pumpkin picking / future spec | Bucktommy | G | 1,249

Buck only barely manages to get the door open before Jee nearly launches herself out of his arms and into Tommy.

“‘mmy!”

Tommy lets out a small ‘uff’ sound and reflexively reaches out to grab Jee, smiling big as his brain catches up to the last 10 seconds.

“Hey kiddo!”

“I made a turtle!” she says. She’s still got little bits of clay stuck to her fingers.

“Wow! You wanna show me?” Tommy asks, setting her on the floor as she nods and wiggles to be put down.

Buck huffs a little laugh at the way she half-runs half-toddles into the living room to grab her clay sculpture. Then he leans over to kiss his boyfriend hello.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry, babe, I meant to text you but the morning got away from us.”

“Everything good with Chim and Maddie?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine, just some last-minute court meeting for Mara. I think Hen’s there too,” he explains.

He’s not sure how these things usually go, but it seems a bit like all these lawyers and social workers are expecting them to drop everything the second they’re needed. It feels a little like Chim and Hen are always on call, that way.

“Rain check on the movie?”

“Of course,” Tommy says, moving to rest his hand on Buck’s lower back before he ducks down to see the monstrosity Jee’s clay turtle has morphed into. He ooh’s and ahh’s over it for a minute, asking her questions about the colors before turning back to look at Buck. “You two have big plans today?”

“Working our way through the arts and crafts mom and dad packed, for now.”

Tommy hums. “There’s an orchard up in Thousand Oaks, how would you two feel about some apple picking? I think they have a petting zoo up there too.”

“I think we could do with some fresh air,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised. Tommy loves Jee, but Buck hadn’t really expected him to stick around and co-babysit all day, much less drive them out anywhere.

Tommy turns to Jee, then. “What do you say, Jee? Want to go pick out some apples to bring back for mom and dad?”

“Yeah!” she shouts, dropping the turtle to the floor where it smooshes.

It’s quick work getting everybody packed up and loaded into Tommy’s car. Jee’s snug in her car seat, and she’s busy with some kind of interactive board book but still demands to hear the Encanto soundtrack for the whole ride. Tommy surprises him by knowing most of the words already. Saw it with my nephews when it came out, he explains when he catches Buck smiling at him.

The orchard isn’t too far from Buck’s place but it’s L.A. so it takes them just under an hour to find the farm and grab a parking spot.

It’s not too busy today. One advantage of the odd hours of the job is being free on random Wednesdays to go to some of the more popular spots.

There’s a quick stop at the entrance to get their bags and directions and then they wander into the rows of trees. Jee starts picking right away, grabbing any apples within her reach and plopping about half into her bag, the rest falling to the ground before Buck gently tells her to only pick the ones she’s sure she really wants.

He’s on the hunt for some baking apples himself, so they meander into the Braeburn rows.

“I want that one!” Jee calls, pointing at a branch about a foot over Tommy’s head.

“This one?” Tommy asks, pointing.

“I wanna pick!”

Tommy just chuckles a little. “Okay,” he says, and lifts Jee up onto his hip before asking, “you alright with going on my shoulders?”

Jee nods, eyes focused on her apple.

Tommy lifts her up, plopping her onto his shoulders and laughing a little when her hands instinctively go to the top of his head and press down for balance.

Buck is absolutely taken with the sight. He’d be laughing too at the way Tommy’s face is smushed under her tiny hands if it weren’t for his own eyes getting rounder and a little wetter and his cheeks flushing. Tommy looks over at him for a second, locking eyes like he’s about to say kids, huh? but then he sees Buck’s face and he just smiles bigger.

Jee shakes the tree a bit with the force of pulling the apple off and promptly bites into it.

“You get it?” Tommy asks.

Jee takes another bite.

“Alright let’s hop down,” Buck jumps in before Jee tries to stay up there all afternoon.

Tommy bends to the ground and helps her off his shoulders.

They wander for a while longer. Buck decides on Cortlands instead after Tommy offers him a bite of a particularly sweet one that he picked. He manages to get his bag filled up enough that he’s confident he’ll have plenty for baking an apple cake with later before Jee gets bored with the picking and walking and runs over to the tiny, farm petting zoo.

They only have a few goats and chickens, but she has a good time feeding them little pieces of cake cones, giggling when their mouths tickle her fingers.

Buck and Tommy watch her for a bit, chatting idly. Tommy’s hand found his as they left the picking area and they haven’t let go since. Like this, Buck finds it all too easy to think about what their future could look like. Taking kids to the orchard. Making plans to visit the pumpkin patch in a few weeks so they can teach them how to make a Jack-O-Lantern. It just feels easy - inevitable almost - and it makes a wave of contradictory calm and excitement wash over Buck. He can’t wait for that.

Jee starts to look ready for a nap after not too long, so they gather everything back into the car and make their way home. She’s asleep before they even hit the 101.

The rest of the day into the early evening passes in a blur of nutmeg and batter and can we watch Coco, please?

It’s nearly 6 by the time Chim and Maddie stop over in a flurry of Sorry, sorry, we didn’t realize it would be such a long day!

They come in for a slice of cake and share the news from the day. Things are finally smoothing out for Hen and Karen and it makes them all breathe a little easier.

Maddie reiterates their apologies, mostly to Tommy, at being a wrench in their plans. Tommy just smiles and assures them I love kids, Jee is great! Buck, for his part, has no idea how to tell Maddie how nice of a day it was without sounding like some kind of lovestruck lunatic who wanted to propose to his boyfriend right there in the middle of the Granny Smiths; so he mostly nods along.

They say goodbye after they’ve finished eating. Tommy hands over the bag of miscellaneous apples that Jee carefully curated, and she gives both of their legs a big hug goodnight.

When they close the door a cozy quiet fills the apartment, and Buck leans against the frame for a minute, looking at Tommy.

Tommy smiles back at him, reaching up to fiddle with the hair behind Buck’s ear.

“Good day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Buck leans in for the kiss and mutters against his lips, “good day.”

send an emoji + pairing for a fall ficlet!🍂

[eveningalchemist]

Black Sails ended in 2017. Vine died in 2017.

Coincidence?? I think NOT!!!

[Video Description: a compilation of clips from Black Sails, with the audio replaced by Vines. transitions are a ship, the Walrus, exploding. a full description of each Vine is written beneath the cut. end ID]

I think we're gonna be friends kazoo kid vine over Silver and Flint in the we might be friends by then scene.

Screaming kid good morning vine over Joshua trying to jump scare Gates.

Don't fuck with me vine over Jack Rackham fighting for his first prize with another pirate captain.

The fuck this shit I'm out song over Silver watching Flint beat Singleton to death. Silver jumps overboard after.

The when will you learn vine over Max shouting at Eleanor during their break-up scene.

The yeet vine over Flint tossing Richard Guthrie's wig off the boat.

The free your mind vine over Vane's speech before he fights the logging camp leader. Fast-forward though the fight to Vane getting his face kicked in.

Sail! vine over a beautiful opening shot of the Walrus. A crew member shouts. Cut to the Walrus being blasted apart with cannon-fire.

Today I will be playing Mozart vine over Miranda about to play on her clavichord before being interrupted by Flint collapsing at her door.

Kitty! I want to sing you a song vine over various scenes of Randall and Betsy, the ship cat.

Do you ever want to talk about your emotions vine over Gates chastising Flint outside in Nassau, cut with Billy interrupting.

Gimme your fucking money vine over Eleanor arguing with a pirate crew, followed by Vane throwing Ned Lowe across his cabin, cutting to his warning sign that reads, I angered Charles Vane

Saw you hanging out with Katelyn yesterday vine over Billy confronting Dufresne about his betrayal, with pirates reacting in the background.

I am the sand guardian vine over Flint and Silver on the beach after the Walrus is wrecked, cutting to Dufresne walking away from them.

It is Wednesday my dudes vine over the island's Puritan priest practicing his sermon in a field looking distressed, overlaid with the scene of Miranda seducing him.

Barbecue sauce on my tittles vine over the scene of Gates and Flint drinking during the storm, with Gates giving a solemn speech. Cutting to Flint laughing drunkenly.

Welcome to Chili's vine over Anne going to Max's room, interrupted by Jack appearing while they are in bed.

Harry what's for dindin vine over a crew member walking up to Silver while he's giving his goings-on report. He punches Silver in the gut and Flint makes an 'oh' face.

Bop-It! vine over quick cut scenes of Jack, Anne, and Vane, including various fuck-you jack moments.

Welcome to my meet or greet vine over Colonel Rhett of Charlestown welcoming Flint into the city, unfriendly.

Dad look, it's the good kush! vine over Vane rolling a cigar, cutting to Blackbeard standing in his tent looking tired.

It's an avocado vine over Woodes Rogers receiving Eleanor's embroidery attempt.

Do you have any ice? vine over Thomas Hamilton explaining his plan to pardon the pirates to Flint, who looks baffled.

Somebody left an ice cube on the ground vine over Silver walking into Nassau's tavern to call-out the pirates for taking pardons. He hits Dufresne with a mug.

Get on top of the fridge vine over Flint yelling at Billy during the storm. Cut to Billy clinging onto a yard as the ship nearly capsizes.

Look at this graph vine over Silver trying to use navigation instruments and explaining them to Madi. Madi looks increasingly concerned.

Road work ahead? vine over Jack in Roger's carriage as they are approached by pirates on horseback. The carriage crashes.

You should get the orange soda vine over Eleanor and Max talking in her office after Eleanor's return from London. Eleanor is the orange soda woman and Rogers is the waiter.

Two bros chillin' in the hot tub vine over quick cuts of scenes of Silver and Flint, including sitting on the beach after the doldrums, staring at each other across a gap, and Madi in between them giving Silver a pointed look.

Release all of those sounds that are trapped in your mind vine over Vane talking to Eleanor while he's in prison. Cut to Eleanor screaming in the corner.

The fuck is in the air vine over Jack arriving in Boston and complaining about the snow.

I love you, bitch, vine over Vane getting punched by Eleanor, then getting a noose slipping around his neck as she watches.

It's finals week vine over Silver scenes across all seasons, from pleading his innocence in season 1, to getting his leg removed, to trying to save Muldoon from drowning, and then pulling a gun on Flint in the final episode.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 12

Welcome to act 2. These are going to be a rough set of chapters for Steve. I hate to do it, but I've got to get him low, to have Eddie build him back up.

If you've been following along to WIP Wednesday, you'll know (or at least suspect) that I'm nearing the end of act 2 and the return of Eddie.

Then I'm not sure how much longer it's going to be. It could be a couple of chapters. But it might be several.

Here we have Jeff teasing Steve and Eddie. Steve decides to spend all his money on movies and popcorn, and at last a wild Birdie appears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

It took a month before Clint Harrington gave up on his crusade to chase his son out of town. That didn’t make Steve safe, per se, just safer. But he took what little comfort in that that he could.

The kids were jealous of the Sunbird, Mike finally admitting that yes, some mysterious benefactor had come in and swept Steve off his feet. He was a kept man.

Steve squirmed at the term. He was going to start looking for work. Just as soon as the dust settled. There was no point in looking when Clint Harrington was just going to come in and throw his weight around get him fired again.

Mike just rolled his eyes when he explained it to the kids, but Max was of the idea to milk for as much as it was worth.

“Seriously, Steve,” Max huffed, “if I could live in a hotel and swim whenever I wanted and order as much food as I wanted, I’d never want to leave.”

He scoffed. “That’s because you’re like ten and actually have friends your age or did you all forget that my dad chased all my friends off?”

“Ooh,” Lucas said clicking his tongue and shaking his head, “yeah, man. That’s rough. And it doesn’t help that this place has one movie theater, an arcade, and a handful of specialty shops none of which scream fun times for teenagers.”

“Yeah,” Will said from the couch, “Jonathan has been complaining about it all summer. There’s Bloomington or Indy, but considering you don’t know which direction your parents went, you’re pretty much stuck in Hell.”

Steve waved his hand at Will. “See? Will gets it.”

So all the kids got their heads together will Claudia and Joyce and tried to plot out something for Steve to do so that he wouldn’t have be staring at the same set of walls every day, no matter how gorgeous those walls happened to be.

Which is how Steve became cinaphile. He started just picking random movies to see at random times of the day during the week. His favorite time to go was Tuesday afternoons before the middle school got out. Not enough time for high school students to evade the place, but later than the moms taking their small children as a way to beat the summer heat.

It also allowed him to find new genres he liked and through all this Eddie stayed his constant phone companion. He loved listening to Steve talk about the plot and how hot the actors were. It was fun.

Steve was also starting to make friends with the rest of the band. He found out who the other person that picked up before thinking it was his phone that was ringing.

“Hey, is Eddie around?” Steve had asked, calling the mobile phone.

“He just stepped out for a minute but he’ll be right back,” the person said. “I’m Jeff by the way, I’m the one that picked up before.”

“Oh hello!” Steve said in surprise. “You’re the other guitarist, right?”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah that’s me. Thanks for not saying ‘the black one’ by the way.”

“Happens a lot?” he asked with a grimace.

“All the time,” Jeff deadpanned. “All the god damned time.”

“That must be shitty,” Steve commiserated. “I guess it’s not quite the same as saying the blond one or the tall one.”

“Yeaaaahhh, no,” Jeff said. “The other two are neutral attributes while being black carries a certain disdain to it.”

“One of the families I used to babysit before this all went to hell,” Steve said, “was a black family and I didn’t realize all the little shit they go through each day. All the snide remarks and sneering glances all the for the crime of existing in the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed. “Oh wait, your lover boy is back. Hey Ed, it’s Steve.”

“Little Canary!” Eddie said excitedly upon being given the phone. “Jeff didn’t spill any of my secrets did he?”

Steve heard Jeff laugh in the background. “I didn’t know there were secrets he kept... I’m going to have to pump him for information next time.”

‘No, no, no,” Eddie whined. “Not allowed! Shoo Jeffy. Mine! Shoo!”

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve giggled. “You can tell all your secrets yourself the next time you’re in Hawkins.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“You’re just a gooey marshmallow, aren’t you?” Steve said with a giggle. “A perfectly roasted marshmallow. Hard on the outside, but all melty and gooey on the inside. Sweet and sticky.”

Eddie burst out laughing. “You really had me going there until the sticky part. Yeah, baby. I’ll be your marshmallow and you’ll be my little Canary.”

“Yeah, Eds,” Steve said, “I’d really like that.”

They talked for a little bit longer before Eddie hummed.

“Steve we have to talk about the last month of the tour,” he said seriously.

Steve’s blood froze in his veins. Eddie rarely called him ‘Steve’. It was a petname like baby, sweetheart, or honey, or little Canary, or maybe even Stevie. But never Steve. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“We’re going to be in Canada,” Eddie continued. “I’ll still be able to call, but only from hotel rooms. I don’t get good service there.”

The ice in his veins turned to lead in his stomach. “So while you’re on the road, you won’t be able to call me?” he asked, his voice small.

“Oh, little Canary,” Eddie said sympathetically. “I’ll try to call from payphones when we stop for gas, but yeah. It’ll be pretty sporadic. But I’ve gotten Chrissy to promise that she’ll take good care you.”

“She still doesn’t like, you know,” Steve said, “she thinks I’m distracting you from doing your job.”

“Which is fucking ridiculous,” Eddie assured him. “I shake my ass on stage and sing and play my heart out. I never skimp on that, and never walk out one meet and greets with the fans. It’s her job to worry, but it’s not your problem. It’s mine. Plus I have my little elf in play who will be plying you with as many little bird gifts I can find.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at that. He had gotten in addition to the necklace that he only took off to shower, a couple of graphic t-shirts with canaries on them. A keychain as well as one with his name on it. Three little ceramic canaries and a glass one. All brought in by Eddie’s little elf.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

“Well, I’ve got to go, babe,” Eddie murmured, “I’ll talk to later. The change won’t happen right away, but I’ll tell you when the date gets closer, okay?”

“Roger that,” Steve said with a sigh of relief. Then they hung up and he flopped on the sofa like a fainting Victorian maiden. In a couple of weeks, he would go back to being as lonely as fuck.

He didn’t even know who the little elf was or why they never showed themselves. All though, knowing Eddie, it was probably just because he thought it was cute. Which it was. It was also a little on the creepy side. He had gotten to know the porters, bellboys, and cleaning staff very well, so he didn’t mind them coming in while he was out or even in the shower.

But a mysterious person whom he knew nothing about? Yeah that was a problem. He didn’t know if they were male or female, how old they were, were they friendly or just doing their job.

To say it drove Steve nuts would be an understatement.

It had been six weeks since his dad chucked him out for making out with Tommy on the sofa and all that time he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard or any of their friends. It was just then his luck ran out.

He had accidentally spilled almost his whole bottle of shampoo and had to go and get more. He spoke briefly to Joyce and chatted with her about Will and how Jonathan was adjusting to being newly graduated and turned around to run directly into someone.

“Shit!” Steve hissed as the basket he was carrying slammed into his stomach. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked up, right into the green eyes and freckled face of Tommy Hagan.

“Steve!”

“Hey, Tommy,” Steve said with a fake smile. “How have you been?” The unasked question of ‘why did you leave me?’ hung in the air between them.

Tommy reached up and rubbed the material of Steve’s shirt between his finger and thumb. “That’s some pretty fancy new getup you’ve got there. Where you get the money for such nice things?”

Steve took a step back and crossed his arms. “I’m surviving. Like I always do.” He hated how he was already put on the defensive.

“Mhmm...” Tommy purred. “Pretty little slut like you, I bet you’ve got yourself a sugar daddy you’ve spread your legs for.”

Dread immediately pooled in Steve’s stomach. That wasn’t what Eddie was? Was he?

He smacked Tommy’s hand away. “Jealous that someone is fucking me better than you ever could? Maybe I have someone paying my bills or maybe I just have a trust fund. I’ll never tell you jack shit.”

The thing was is that he probably did have a trust fund. He just wouldn’t get it until he turned twenty-one. He had two years of running on empty he would have to do first. At least he had until Eddie came home anyway.

“No,” Tommy agreed, “you were always more of a screamer than a talker.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “At least I didn’t run like a bitch when my parents walked in on us fucking. You find another dick to ride or did you go back to Carol like the coward you are?”

Tommy scowled. “You keep her name out your dirty mouth, Stevie boy. You don’t want to see what will happen if you don’t.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a snort, “you’ll go running back to Daddy to protect you, like always do. Now pardon me, I have better things to do.” His eyes flicked over Tommy’s body. “If you hadn’t been the only option, I wouldn’t have picked you.”

He pushed passed him, bumping their shoulders together as he did.

He quickly bought what he needed and about as much junk food as he could get hands on. Joyce looked as though she wanted to ask if he was okay, so picked a different line to go though, hurrying out to his car. He looked around to make sure Tommy wasn’t waiting for him, but he didn’t see his car.

He drove back to the hotel, ready for a junk food night in front of the TV. He ordered room service and turned on the shower to wash off the slimy feeling of the interaction with Tommy. He had removed his shirt when he realized he had left the shampoo out there.

He opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Because there putting a couple of boxes on the end table was a girl with choppy blonde hair and boxy clothes. She was definitely not staff.

“So you’re my elf.”

~

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Chapter 1:

“Mom” Megumi said, knocking me out of my own thoughts.

“Are you okay?” 

That question was a hard one to answer. Leave it to Megumi to read me like the back of a book. We are currently on the way home after you picked him up from Jujutsu High. His last class ended at 4 and unfortunately you  didn’t make it to pick him up until 4:30. You got stuck in traffic after having a long argument with his father. If you were counting you  would say that it’s the 10th argument you have had with him this week and it’s only Wednesday

Releasing a quiet sigh you put on the same mask you always wear for Megumi.

“Yea I’m okay, how was class today?” you quickly reply, giving him your biggest smile while nudging his arm from the driver's seat. Since he recently turned 14 years old you have allowed him to sit in the passenger seat from time to time. Mostly when you pick him up from school so the other students don’t find some reason to pick on him. Megumi isn’t the most social so you do everything in your power to not be that embarrassing mom that refuses to let their kid grow up. If it was up to you he would be 14 years old forever.

 “Good..” he answered hesitantly like he had more to say. You can see him chewing on the string of his hoodie, something you know he does when he's nervous. 

“Anything else?” you question hoping he will give you a hint as to what he's thinking about. You never push but right now you are worried it’s something serious. 

“I have a tournament on Friday at 6pm.” Megumi muttered quietly.

You let out a sigh in relief that it isn’t bad news. He had you worried there for a second. Megumi has been in martial arts since he was 12 years old. You were hesitant to let him join at first but realized that you did feel better with the thought of him being able to defend himself. He fell in love with the sport and since then you have been his number one supporter attending all his events and taking him to all his practices. 

“You remember what we talked about right mom,,..I just need to know if you are serious because I am?” suddenly you begin to feel uneasy. You hadn't forgotten but maybe you just pushed it down so you wouldn’t have to think about it. You and him had an agreement, both of you frustrated with the treatment they were receiving from his father.

It wasn’t an easy decision and you have been putting it off for over 4 years now. That was until it started affecting Megumi's mental health a few years ago. Megumi was diagnosed with acute depression and was placed on small doses of medication to help with his anxiety. While he got the help he needed from a psychologist you still haven’t done your part and you knew what needed to be done.

“If he doesn’t come we have to move on.” Megumi whispered and you could feel him looking at you from the passenger seat.

Flashback

You can remember the day clearly. The day you were set to be wed to Toji Fushiguro.  When you got the call from your parents it was October 20th and you were walking into work. That morning you recall the leaves were falling from the trees at an extreme pace as the wind picked up rapidly around you.

Entering the office you were met by numerous stares and hushed whispers. You couldn’t make out many of the words but you remember hearing “married” and “Fushiguro”. You remember thinking to yourself that Fushiguro was the last name of the mafia leaders that your dad just represented in court. Your firm had managed to secure this case and it was an important one to a lot of important people. This was a case that went on for a year and lucky your firm was able to win. You didn’t think your parents would be alive right now if they failed. Even so you had no idea why everyone was looking at you.

Your questions were answered as soon as you walked into your fathers office. You were met with not only your parents but 2 middle aged men in suits along with a small boy that couldn’t be older than 12. 

You recognized the men as Toji Fushiguro and his father who you could recall having the last name Zenin. You only recognise them because they were a part of the many mafia leaders on trial that got off. You were aware of Toji having a son, who you assumed was the small boy standing next to him. 

Toji was nice to look, 6'2 but his height wasn't what you were focused on at the moment. It was his almost perfect face.

“Excuse me dad, you called me into your office, did you need something?.” you cut to the chase feeling uncomfortable standing in the room. You felt as though you were interrupting an important conversation and didn’t understand why your dad would call you into his office early in the morning. 

“Yes, gentlemen this is my lovely daughter I was telling you about” my dads voice boomed in the room as he guided me to sit in an open chair facing Toji. You could already tell by your fathers  voice he was coming up with some terrible idea. You were used to him trying to be flashy and show off to his colleagues and clients so you figured this time was no different. 

“Does she know about the agreement?” Toji said with a look not fazed by my fathers antics. 

“What agreement?” I said slightly, raising my voice looking to my father for an answer. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Toji shaking his head and his father looking unamused.

“Watch your mouth.” my father started his explanation. “You are to be wed to Toji, we have entered an arrangement with the Fushiguro/Zenin mafia. In exchange for winning the case his son would give us the honor of marrying my only daughter. We also will be greatly compensated for entering the family.” 

If you had a bottle of water you would drink it just to spit it out.

“Like hell I am” you said laughing while sitting in the chair holding your stomach from laughing so hard. What did he think this was some fucked up mafia romance novel. You knew your father was crazy but not this crazy. 

It took you a minute to recover from that mini laugh session. Tears of laughter were falling from your face. You felt a tap when you recovered that caused you to look up. You were met by the small boy in front of you holding out a water bottle. 

“My mom used to give me water when I would cry” he said in a quiet tone. 

“Thank you… what’s your name?” you said, taking the water from his hands gently. He looked very timed and you felt as though you didn't want to frighten him. 

“Megumi” he whispered while moving to stand back beside his dad. 

“Daughter, I'm serious. You are 20 years old and never had a boyfriend. You had your choice to marry wealthy. Our family could benefit substantially from this ordeal, plus you will also be greatly compensated.” my dad said with a stern voice. I used to be scared when he would use that tone of voice. You went to interject and curse him out but his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“I’m not giving you a choice here, the papers have already been signed”

What does he mean the papers have already been signed. The last time you remember signing anything was several days ago when he asked you to sign an agreement paper for him….

“You said that paperwork was so I can take lead on the next case” you said feeling deceived and knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up of your father seeing your true potential. 

“Technically you will still be lead on the next case” your father said chuckling to himself. 

At this point you were left speechless. You didn’t know what to do. 

You thought of crying, thought of yelling, hell you even thought of throwing something in the room. You looked around at your surroundings but stopped when you landed on Megumi's face. 

He looked terrified. Why did he look terrified?

It hit you as soon as the question popped in your brain. He was terrified of you. Megumi was scared of how you would react and for some reason you didn’t want him to be scared of you. 

Taking a deep breath you addressed the room at once. Your tone of voice cold and stern.

“When?”

Flashback Over

Since that day you and Megumi have been joint at the hip. You got married to Toji 6 years ago and the marriage has been one of the hardest things you have gone through in your 26 years of life. 

You were wed by the end of the week after having that meeting in your fathers office. The wedding was a large wedding with over 300 guests that you didn’t know. At the time you didn’t know just how wealthy the Fushiguro/Zenin mafia was but you found out that day. The venue was decorated beautifully and the itinerary was laid out nicely even though you had no say in any of the schedule or the  decorations. You were practically treated as a guest at your own wedding. 

The Zenin’s provided you with a money compensation that you have kept saved away and have only spent on Megumi’s education. You enrolled him in the finest institution to make up for the fact that he had to deal with this fucked up situation. 

Now that you think back on everything it happened so fast and life has passed you by quickly. You were still married to Toji and living in his two bedroom apartment with Megumi. Toji managed to blow through his money gambling resulting in you guys downsizing in the last few years. You offered to pay for a better living arrangement but he declined your offer. He said he preferred smaller living. 

Not that it mattered because he doesn’t return home most of the time and if he does it’s late at night. Even though Toji’s family has money and you were both compensated for the arrangement he continuously blames you and Megumi for him not being able to ‘work’. You know what he means when he says ‘work’ and you suspect that he is already taking up odd jobs which has resulted in more arguments this week. 

Focusing back to the present you realize that you have arrived home. The lights are on so you assume Toji is still inside and you just hope he has calmed down from the argument earlier.

You and Megumi get out of the car to head inside. Picking up trash in the front of the entrance as you make your way up to the 4th floor. 

You just hope for peace for the rest of the night.

✿❀○❀✿

You don’t know why you stay.

Entering the apartment you aren’t shocked anymore by the scene in front of you. The living room table and the kitchen island you just cleaned the morning before was dirty. You only left out a few hours ago so it only took less than 4 hours for Toji to create the mess. Magazines and beer bottles on the table and carry out food containers left on the kitchen island. In the corner of the living room table was a gun along with a knife and several cigarette packs. At least he had the nerve to use an ashtray for the cigarettes. Sighing loudly you tell Megumi to head to his room noticing that the boy is already moving to head that way. Just like you, he is used to a routine whenever Toji is home. 

Your body moved like it was on autopilot. You quickly looked under the cabinet for trash bags to dispose of the empty items that he left along with the magazines. Toji reads them when he's here but you notice he never takes them when he leaves. They always end up staying on the table unless you throw them out. 

The gun and the knife were another story. You accidently threw out a small knife one time by accident when you were cleaning and Toji made it his mission to remind you of it constantly that night. He was mad and in the end it resulted in you and Megumi having to get a hotel for the night to get away from the constant yelling.

“What is wrong with me?” you question yourself outloud. You should have left a long time ago and when you found out the contract expired a few weeks ago you promised Megumi that you would take him with you. You hadn’t known that the marriage contract you ‘signed’ was only good for 5 years. So while you were still married to Toji the mafia argument that binds you guys together was no longer valid. You could get a divorce finally but when it comes to the custody of  Megumi that's a different story. 

Toji knew you were planning to divorce him. He actually pre-signed the papers last week stating that he would be gone before everything was even finalized. You were nervous to even bring up the conversation of taking custody of Megumi. Would he even care?

Focusing back to the living room you stare at the clean space. Everything was clean and clear except for the gun and knife. You didn’t know what to do as you didn’t want to touch the items. You were out of gloves since the last time you had to clean blood off of a towel Toji left on the couch. 

Not wanting to leave it there, you realized you had no choice but to wake up Toji. 

Walking to the master bedroom you turned on the hall light before peaking into the bedroom. “Toji” you said weakly hoping he wouldn’t hear you. 

“I’m not sleep”

“And if I was that weak ass whisper of my name wouldn’t have woke me up.”

You roll your eyes pushing open the door to enter. Your eyes adjust to the dim light and you are met with Toji laying on his back scrolling on his phone. The thick black cover is only pulled over his mid sections and his shirt is thrown on the floor next to the bed along with his slippers he occasionally wears indoors. His abs are on full display and his black hair has grown out, making his bed hair look messier. Even though you and him don’t get along, you have eyes, he looks like a finely made roman statue. 

“Can you please get the gun and knife off the table so I can go lay down peacefully?” you said trying your hardest to be nice for the sake of Megumi in the other room.

“Why can’t you just move it?” he replied, smirking while leaning up on his elbows causing the blanket to slip off his lap. 

“My eyes are up here ma.” he continued smirking at your obvious display of checking him out. He knows he looks good which doesn’t help.

“Cut the shit, I don’t know what you have used those for. Just move them so Megumi doesn’t see them.” you gave up on being nice. Toji makes it so difficult for you to remain calm. 

“Megumi this Megumi that, a little gun isn’t gonna scare him he grew up around it.” stated Toji laying back down on the bed. 

“Please Toji.” you sighed out walking further in the room. He looked over from his phone getting a better look of you. You could see his eyes taking in your black and red sundress you rushed to throw on earlier while you were rushing out. He must have thought of something because next thing you know he’s sitting back up.

“Where were you going to lay down?” he asked, looking me over. 

“The other room.” you answered. Even though he already knew the answer. Anytime Toji was present you choose to sleep in Megumi's rooms on an air mattress you guys kept for times like this. It was easier so that you could actually get some rest. 

“I’ll make you a deal. Come lay with me and I'll move the gun.”

“Fine” you gave in too quickly like you always end up doing. That's how you find yourself laid out on the bed with a half naked Toji above you. 

Toji started leaving kisses down your neck moving slowly. He loves to tease. It's been so long since you have hooked up with each other. You were sure Toji finds company in other people but you on the other hand don’t have the time or energy to venture out. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Get out of your head ma,.. think later” Toji muttered while taking your left breast into his mouth. He moved further down your body leaving several marks, he always leaves marks. By now you are whining and tugging on his head trying to move him further down to where you need him.

“Toji stop teasing.” you beg resulting in him biting hard on your right thigh. Drawing a sharp hiss out of your throat. 

“Was that an order babe?” Toji said, looking up from in between my thighs. He’s in that kind of mood today. You could tell it was going to be a long night. 

“No.” you say, turning your head into the pillow next to you while he adjusts your legs over his broad shoulders. A stutter left you at the movement. 

“Look at me” he said. Turning back and looking down you were met with a sight that always makes you weak. Toji had such an intense look on his face his eyes shined with a look of hunger. His once brown eyes looked to be black. He turned back to the task at hand knowing that your eyes wouldn’t leave him.

He left a couple more kisses and marks on your thighs and legs before burying his face into the middle of your legs. Your legs shook as he swiped his tongue over your clit before moving to fuck you with his tongue. His nose is now grazing your clit as he tongue fucks you. 

“F-fuck, please” you practically scream. You would be fucking into his face if it wasn’t for the fact that your legs were over his shoulders. 

Toji always ate you out as if he was starving. His mouth and tongue never missed anywhere grazing over all the sensitive parts of your pussy.You felt like you were floating every single time. It was always messy because he loved to take his time. He loved to make a mess of you. 

“Please, please–” you were holding his hair at point, being careful not to tug. You know if you did he would stop and you didn’t want that. You were practically crying which you knew was one of Toji’s favorite things. 

“Please what doll?” he said looking into your eyes, mouth wet and you can see his tongue licking at his bottom lip getting more of a taste of you. 

“Can I cum please Toji?” you asked as you could feel a couple of tears fall onto your check. By now he has been eating you out for over 30 minutes and you have given up on acting like you didn’t need him inside you.

“Hmm,,.not yet only after you have been good to me” Toji said, moving up from the position he was in. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Get on your knees doll.” he ordered. You could barely feel your legs as you got off the bed and kneeled between his legs. You hadn’t moved quick enough for Toji because you felt his hand firmly gripping your hair tugging you closer to him. 

“Suck me” Toji said, looking down at you. He hadn’t removed his sweatpants yet but you know what he wanted. 

You placed your lips on the outline of his dick. Sucking and licking at the cotton as if it wasn’t in the way. He groaned several times lightly pulling at your hair while grinding into your face. While he was patient with you when it came to his pleasure, that was a different story. 

Toji stood up pulling his sweatpants down while still keeping a firm grip on your hair.

“Ahh, wait-” you were cut off by him practically shoving himself down your throat. You were extremely wet now and knew you had to be leaking onto the floor. He was choking you on his cock which caused more tears to stream down your face. 

His hips moved pushing him deeper in your throat while his hands worked to control your head. You could feel the tip of his dick in the back of your throat. 

Toji was well endowed and if it wasn’t for you being with him sexually for the last 6 years you knew there was no way you would be able to take him this deep. He knew this and reminded you from time to time that he has ‘trained your throat’ for him. 

The sounds in the room were deep groans from Toji and moans from you that could be heard only when he slipped out of your throat. You could tell by his movement that Toji was close. Groaning his hips jerked and he slipped back, tapping his wet cock against your tongue. 

“Fu- Swallow it” he stuttered in between his higher pitched groans. He was moaning at this point. Surely enough he emptied in your mouth without giving you a chance to take a breath until he was done. 

As you went to swallow you were yanked to stand on your legs by your throat. He had a firm grasp on your throat that almost caused me to choke. He pulled me in front of him so you only had to glance up some to see his face. 

“Now swallow” he said, his hand not leaving your throat wanting to feel you swallow his load. You swallowed looking him straight in the eyes as you did. Your eyes were still teary and your legs were weak as you stood in front of him. That seemed to not be enough for him. 

“Open” he said in almost a whisper tone. Grazing his hand against your lips he looked as if he was holding himself back to not lose control. His eyes remained black and his expression didn’t give away what he was going to do. 

Toji gently grabbed your face with his other hand while you opened your mouth, remembering to keep eye contact. He leaned down and spit directly in your mouth. Hand still around your throat as you swallowed his spit. His spit tasted like cigarettes and you can smell the beer strong from his mouth. 

‘Smack’ his hand lightly smacked your face while he spit in your mouth again. The slap wasn’t hard but it still made a sound that echoed in the room. 

“I told you to stop thinking doll, it’s okay i’ll help you relax” Toji said walking you backwards until you fell on the bed with him on top of you. 

“Do you want me to make you cum?” he said, teasing his fingers at my entrance. 

“Please, y-you promised.” you sobbed at this point needing him inside you. You felt wet and empty and knew that the only way you would get relief is if he was inside you. 

“Promised?” he chuckled, slipping two fingers inside of you. He never starts with one knowing you will open right up for him. 

“Hmm.” he hums. 

“I don’t remember making that promise.” Toji moved on to tease your clit while his two fingers continued pumping into you at a slow rate. You were moaning into your hand while you were almost riding his fingers at this point. If he stops you, you might die.  

“I’m tired, maybe we should stop for the night doll.” he said, not looking tired at all. You knew he was testing you to see what kind of reaction he could get out of you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but you needed to cum. 

You moved from under him pushing him on his back so you were now on top of him. Your legs were still shaking but you moved on and you were on your knees hovered over him. 

Reaching behind, you grip his cock lining him up with your entrance. You let out a gasp as his throbbing member entered you. You forgot that Toji doesn’t need much of a recovery after cumming, his second rounds always last longer. You might have taken on more than you can handle. 

“I found the papers you had in the bedside drawer” he said, giving you one of his flashy smiles while he leaned back with his hands behind his head.

What papers? The only thing you had in the drawer was…. Oh shit

You freeze up, not moving scared of his reaction.

“Don’t stop now doll” Toji grabbed my waist moving my body up and down slowly on his cock. 

“If you do a good job i’ll sign them for you” he casually said watching your boobs move up and down because of his actions.

“You promise?” you choked out feeling tears threatening to escape your eyes. He gave you a look like he was searching for what to say. His black eyes looked like their regular  brown color as he sat up so you two were face to face. 

“I promise.” Toji whispered into your lips kissing you for the first time tonight. You can’t recall the last time you guys kissed. This kiss was passionate and you were right about his breath smelling like beer but now you were fully tasting it. You weren’t used to this kind of emotion from Toji. You didn’t even compete for dominance just wanting to feel him close to you. 

The room was filled with moans and cries as you rode him into oblivion. Motivated by him signing the papers but you were also feeling an urgent need to make this memorable. Something was telling you that this was the last time that you would be able to feel him.

 You couldn’t tell who came first but you felt it as Toji filled you up. You thanked  yourself for starting birth control recently. 

When you caught your breath you moved to clean yourself up leaving Toji in the room. You took a shower in the bathroom using hot water to relax your muscles. After washing you glanced at yourself in the mirror. 

“Jesus.” you knew Toji left plenty of marks but you looked like you had been mauled. 

Leaving the bathroom after changing into one of your night gowns you were stopped in your tracks. Toji was now lying under the covers curled up on the right side of the bed. The lamp was on by the desk and while you walked over to turn it off you noticed papers and a pen sitting on the table. 

Picking it up you realized he had actually signed it. Toji signed the custody papers giving you full custody of Megumi. 

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sob. At this point you didn’t know if you were crying tears of joy or sadness. While you were losing a marriage you were gaining something more important. You couldn’t help but to have feelings for Toji after all these years and the thought of leaving scared you as he was the only thing you have known for the last few years. Starting over was scary but you knew you needed to. 

Turning to leave the room you were stopped by a hand on your arm.

“Don’t go. Lay with me, one last time.” looking down you were met by the face of the man you married 6 years ago.

tag: @beetusbritt❤ divider by @cafekitsune art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use) art credit 2: twitter: ayushnz_ ❀follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

-kenzie & des

[honestsycrets]

omggg I would love to request a "are you really so oblivious?" with Miguel

❛ summary | you're not picking up on any of the signs Miguel is throwing. he's is desperate enough to ask your pupil pavitr for help.

❛ sy's notes | as requested! i will post dad!miguel drabble on wednesday.

❛ sy's tags | pupil pavitr, pavitr being a helpful bug, some anger, some violence, mostly just minor angst and some cuteness.

“She's pretty, no?" Pavitr sings, "You could just assssk her. ”

Miguel doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn't know why he's still trying after the trainwreck that was February. He also doesn’t know why the kid insists that 'help' is bombing his dates just to whisper in his ear. Dates that he feels are dates but you don’t know are dates.

That's what happens when you want a woman who hasn't dated in years.

It’s not enough that he’s stuffed himself into clothes that he doesn’t like, like the black button-up that is a size too small, because that’s the largest size he could find. He leaves a button or two exposed because as Pavitr says, you love to comment on how soft he looks with just a little skin. He has to be soft, too.

As if being soft was ever a good thing for Miguel. It never failed. He gets soft, his life goes complete and utter shit. You’re nibbling a hunk of roti between your thumb and index finger, grinning behind your fingers. You might have heard it, but like many things, you’re not connecting the dots. You never connect the fucking dots.

“Hm, new girlfriend, Pav?”

“Me?” he peeped, his grin ear to ear. “No! Bhaiya has his eye on a girl. A pretty girl.”

The loud cafe was full of beautiful women with thick bangles, kohl-lined eyes, and playful smiles. They spoke about all kinds of things: family life, relationships, friendships, and school. Of every woman here, he finds himself aching to know what goes on behind your eyes, almost troubled with what Pavitr was saying.

“Mi Miguel?” you tilt your head, a set of your gilded earrings clinking as you moved. Pavitr suggested you dress up on purpose-- Despite the power that courses through his upper body, Miguel feels weak. "Not my Miguel."

My Miguel-- Mi Miguel, both sound gorgeous when they come your lips. He could get used to it.

“See, she said ‘mi’, that’s your chance,” he’s whispering in Miguel’s ear. He pinches his brow, rolling the skin between his fingertips. Whatever chance Pavitr thinks he has is slipping away. Miguel can’t be bothered to stop it. This kid can't possibly know how you feel.

“You have to be talking about someone else. All those Spiders in HQ and yet Miguel never goes after them, not one. Mira-- Pav. On San Valentín Miguel gave me flowers, rosas. Of all the girls!”

Fuck. Pav blinked, his gaze following Miguel in his seat. He doesn’t address his humiliation, just lets you chew on it. He closes his eyes, wishing that he could forget that awkward day. It was pathetic, the way he called you into his lab, a bundle of roses in his arms. Just for a kiss on the cheek that proceeded to torment him the rest of the month. Aw, how cute, Miggy.

All that... just to be called cute.

"Maybe he likes you! Did you get him anything?" Pav is trying here, but you’re not picking up on anything that he’s laying down. You laughed it off, awkward as you were.

“Me? No, Miguel-- he doesn't like me,” you clean your hands and lean in your chair. Your sultry eyes fall on Miguel, bidding him to lower his hand from his eyes. He catches your gaze as you ask, "Do you, Miggy?"

"No. You're making assumptions."

Your eyes scan Miguel over, searching for some sort of fault in Miguel's face. Solemn, playing as amused. You don't find any in his hard gaze. You come to the antithesis of what he meant, assuming that he was talking to Pavitr rather than you. Your gaze hardens, shutting him out from the depths of your emotions. Then, your mood turns. It's not like you.

“See? The day Miguel finds a woman is the day I'll find a man." You reach for your tea, lips churning in a frown. " Pero, since he has someone, I should start looking in Nueva York, hm?”

Pavitr grimaces.

“Damn it!” Miguel bites out. His hand slams on the flimsy table, snapping it in two. Your tea spills over your gold dress as Pavitr and you lurch to stabilize it. It didn’t help that there were countless sets of warm eyes boring at Miguel as he stormed through the tiny entrance of the shop to avoid more damage to the poor owner’s store.

Why did he try? He was entirely sick of it. Sick of trying to show how much damn work he was doing to get you to understand how he felt. Pavitr had not helped at all. If anything, he made it worse. At least before-- you weren't looking for someone. When you were alone, just with him, it could be the two of you. No one else mattered. Miguel regrets stomaching his pride just to ask the boy for help. What was he thinking-- asking a teenager about adult issues?

“Miggy!”

He hears your voice but dips into the busy crowd. He sticking out like a sore thumb with his excessive muscle tone and your quick steps, quicker with your spider abilities. If you were anyone else, he would have cut you out of his life. Instead, he’s just a bug stuck in your spider web.

You snatched his watch-clad wrist, whirling him around. He can’t fight your touch, he longs for it, craves it more than he’s craved anything in the past few months. You shove him into a shadowy alleyway. His back connects with the wall, head shifting to the sea of saris and rich color. He isn’t looking at you.

“Miguel O’Hara, look at me.”

“Go find that man you want so much,” he bit out, the words scratching out of his throat as if they had barbs.

“¿Qué? Miguel, you’re-- dios mío. Why are you acting so angry? You didn't want me!”

“Of course, I want you! But you are-- are you really so oblivious?” he shouted, his fist connecting with the wall beside him, A crater forms around his massive hand, shaking loose dust from the building. "Nothing I do is enough."

"Stop," you grasp his hand, bringing them to your hand for a slight kiss. His heart rips into his chest, suddenly unable to tear his eye away from the red stain of lipstick over his knuckles. His irritation cools like cold water meeting a roiling boil, tracking how you shift his large palm to your cheek.

“Perdóname. I thought--” you find yourself mumbling, “You… How could you like me?”

He watches your hand fall away from his, maintaining a hold on your cheek. Even now, he finds you beautiful, soaked in chai all over your gilded gown. He knows why you can’t understand. Since he’s known you, you rarely had a man pursue you because as a girlfriend. Aside from your shapely body, you were the sort of woman men didn’t usually pursue. He knows you don’t like his shouting, it shows in the way your eyes dart to the pebbles under his boots. He tapers down his tone.

“I just do.” He sets a small kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping around to collar your nape. Your fingers turn over his tawny exposed chest, almost shyly so. You could bring him to his knees touching him like that, a gentleness that he’s only longed for since he first fell for you. You’re so close-- yet, nothing is solidified. It could slip away. “¿Y tú?”

“I-- I do, I do too.”

Your cheeks flush. Moreso when he spots Pavitr peeking around the corner, gazing at his thumb stroking your cheek with the most aggravating smile ruptured across his face. Miguel releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, his tone becoming sharp, nearly heartless in the way he says them.

“Soooo, do you... need any more help, Bhaiya?”

“I think we can take it from here, Pav. Thank you for helping me.”

Helping you? Miguel snaps down to look at you. You gaze back into Miguel’s confused eyes with the warmth that he needs at that moment. Pavitr’s picking-- about asking you out, teasing him when you said you’d find someone else-- suddenly makes complete sense. Pav slides away, grinning like the idiot Miguel feels he is.

“What do you mean-- Helping you?”

“Well,” you smiled. “Miggy. He’s my kid. You couldn’t have really thought he’d help you.”

“No. Apparently not."

[passivenovember]

thinking about the first time Billy has cherry pie and the lengths he'll travel to have it again.

--

Fresh Cherries (part one)

--

Because it's December, Neil makes concessions.

Billy isn't allowed to do whatever he wants, never that, but his leash isn't vice-like. There's some give as he tests his boundaries when there's snow on the ground. Billy isn't sure why, but he isn't about to ruin a good thing.

But. Steve calls on a Wednesday night and says, "Come over."

Billy has to chew and swallow the automated response he's used to giving. It's a school night, Neil'd kill me, and feels like he just got dusted with sugar and put in the oven. Says, "Sure. Let me ask my dad."

"Just sneak out," Steve tells him.

Billy checks the alarm clock on his bedside table. "It's seven thirty."

"So?"

"So, it's not sneaking out hours."

"You're such a stick in the mud," Steve says.

"I'm not, I just--" don't feel like getting my teeth knocked in. Billy picks at the threads in his duvet cover. Counts to three. "I want to be a good influence on you, Harrington."

Steve squaks. Some bright, quaffed bird. "I'm a year older than you!"

"Only 'cause you got held back in the third grade," Billy says. He flops over onto his belly, bringing the phone with him as he tries not to get wrapped up in the chord when Steve laughs.

"This is what I get for telling you all my deepest darkest shit," Steve rustles on the other end of the line and Billy imagines him in bed, or laying on the couch. Maybe flat on the carpet, near the fireplace, shirtless and eating chocolate covered strawberries--

"C'mon," Steve says gently, "Be a bad influence, come hang out with me."

"My dad--"

"Just sneak out, Malibu."

Billy grunts, not wanting to tell the truth, kind of into how Steve's growing more and more whiny as the scene presses on. "I dunno."

"C'mon, it's not hard. I sneak out all the time. Out of my house and into my car and in through your window--"

"--That's different. Your parents don't give a shit where you are."

"You're right. Who cares, though? I'd still sneak out to see you even if they had a bell permanently installed around my neck."

Billy's heart feels like raw cookie dough, sticking to the ribs around him as he bakes and proves under some bright, shining, plastic feeling. "Are they home this week?"

"Nope," Steve says, and the P explodes over the phone line. Wipes out half the city in his excitement. "Mom bought a ton of shit to get me through 'till the twenty-eighth, so we can--"

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

"I always spend Christmas alone," Steve says. Quiet sits heavy, like a filed of snow, between them. Stretching out in every direction. "It's not a big deal. We celebrate Christmas in November."

"With Thanksgiving?"

"Nah, right at the start of November."

"Alongside Halloween?" Billy spats, sitting upright on the mattress. It jostles underneath him. He feels like a raft lost in some huge, freezing, disorienting sea.

He tries to get his barring's, tries to sink his heel into Steve's answering laugh but its hollow like a dead tree, "One year Santa was my dad, dressed as the Cowardly Lion." Steve says.

Billy tries to imagine it. He puts the hard, chilled seed of Steve's childhood near his molars and chews on it for a while, trying to envision the light refracted from all the ways childhood has to bend and contort to suit a kid's parents.

"I never believed in Santa," He says. An offering. Sadness for sadness, or something, like I see you.

Steve hums, and that horrible field of ice and snow between them melts, just like it always does. "Come over," He says, not as hollow as before. Blooming.

Billy puts his shoes on.

--

The Harringtons live in some demented alternate reality where Christmas in December is all for show. Their house has been decorated since the last time Billy was here in Saturday.

He knocks and stares down at Santa, the looming silver-screen image from his childhood, dressed in a floral button down, board shorts and flip flops. Somehow feels colder. When Steve opens the door, he points at it.

"My mom's theme this year is Blue Hawaii." Steve says.

Billy stumbles over the threshold, teeth chattering to shards in his skull. "That's not a Christmas Movie."

"Yeah, but it turns out, Santa can be anything. He's kinda like a chameleon."

"Santa isn't Elvis."

"He could be," Steve says.

Billy shrugs out of his jacket, handing it off, like always. Steve holds it close to his chest, watching with amusement as Billy takes in the foyer. Toes out of his snow-covered boots. "It's like a tiki bar made of pine trees instead of sweet grass."

Steve nods, still clutching the jacket.

His eyes are red.

Billy squints at him, padding closer. "Are you high?"

Steve giggles, bright like a fresh log in the fire.

Billy scrubs a hand across his face, trying to hide the way it makes him go up in Steve's flame. "You're such a dork."

"What? I thought we could--"

"I only have a few hours," Billy tells him gently, trying not to get lost in the sleepy, apple-red flush across Steve's perfect nose. "My dad'll--"

"Just tell him I'm left on my own for Christmas. Maybe he'll feel sorry for me and let you stay the night."

"How do you think I got him to agree to an 11:30 curfew?"

Steve blinks at him and then explodes into glowing, glaring joy. "Are you shitting me?"

"Nope, I'm all yours 'till 11:30."

Steve flushes again, clutching Billy's jacket closer to his chest. "But it's a school night--"

"Guess my old man took pitty on you. Such a lonely boy in his Elvis-themed mansion on the hill, it's kinda pathetic," Billy says, "In a cute way."

"It's not Elvis," Steve says, still grinning, "It's Blue Hawaii."

"Still cute," Billy shrugs, feeling hot all over. Feeling proud of himself. He nearly combusts when Steve moves into his space, eyes nearly going cross to focus on the bridge of Steve's nose.

Billy holds his breath.

He waits for Steve to say something, feeling that huge filed stretch out between them, but it's not snow-covered now.

It's thawing. It's burning up.

Steve wets his lips.

"Uh," Billy says intelligently, looking down when the sleeve of his jacket tugs at him, still viced in Steve's hold. "You can put that in the closet," Billy tells him, caught on the strech of skin over Steve's knuckles. "If you want."

"I don't," Steve tells him.

Billy looks up, eyes crossing again.

Steve winks. "You're warm," He says but Billy feels it, more than anything else.

--

The smell of marijuana and pine is overwhelming, searing through the air after the first shared joint.

Billy rolls his neck and asks if they can crack a window. Steve blinks at him, sealing the second joint with spit. "You trying to get caught, or something?"

"Caught?" Billy asks, trying to force his shoulders to relax. "But. I thought--"

"--The neighbors are nosy 'round these parts." Steve says. He tucks his rolling tray under the coffee table, and Billy watches with droopy red eyes the way his lips close around the butt of the thing.

Steve's lips are perfect.

If Billy was an artist he'd fill sketchbooks with watercolor renditions of that cupid's bow. His fingers would permanently stain with lapping waves of purple-pink, etching the warmth of breath into his nail beds so that the faucet would never run clear of this boy.

He could get lost in those lips. That hair--

Steve hands him the joint and Billy takes it, focusing on the cherry so he won't get lost in Steve's eyes, too, because he's looking. Always.

Billy tries not to drown in it and fails when Steve says, "Y'know. Your eyes are kinda like Blue Hawaii."

"Again with Elvis?" Billy rolls them, handing the joint back. "You're the one who stole his wig."

"My hair is not a wig, fuck you."

"Coulda fooled me."

Steve holds smoke in his lungs, exhaling it toward the popcorn ceiling as he says, "Your eyes are blue."

Billy snorts, laying with his back on the carpet.

"They're the bluest things I've ever seen," Steve says, ashing the joint. "And I've tried to find something bluer. Around town. I even went to the library to look for something in an atlas when Indiana disappointed me, like maybe the ocean is bluer and clearer in the Caribbean, or something, but no."

Billy's heart thumps, nailing his ribs to the floor underneath.

He counts the joints in the popcorn overhead. He feels Steve looking at him, feels himself burning from the inside.

"You're just the most detailed asshole who's ever lived," Steve says, softly.

Billy could sink into it. "Thanks."

Silence falls, again. It's comfortable. Billy stretches, a little bit, twisting until his spine cracks, until he feels like he could pass out from how relaxed he is.

Steve hands him the joint.

Billy shakes his head.

"Why not?" Steve asks.

"I'm laying down," Billy tells the ceiling, "I feel like if I smoke anymore my lungs will give out, or maybe I'll float through the ceiling and disappear."

Steve exhales more smoke. "And right before Christmas, too."

Billy sits crisscross on the carpet, watching Steve puff, inhale, puff, inhale. "You're really not stressed about being home by yourself for six days?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"I like having the house to myself," Steve tells him, "Besides, I feel like if I have to spend any more time with my parents this year I'm going to sink right through the floor." Teasing. An echo of Billy's childhood fear of ascending into the ozone.

Billy pokes him with his foot, flushed.

Steve finishes the joint and slides closer. Their knees touch. "What kind of Christmases did you have when you were growing up?"

Billy shrugs. "I'm sill growing up."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, just. I dunno," Billy gets lost in Steve's eyes, a little. Classic beauty. "It was the Coca-Cola Santa kind?"

Steve laughs at him, and then his palms are warm on Billy's knee caps. "The kind with Bing Crosby and miniature towns on the dining room table?"

Billy's mom loved to collect those goddamn things. Neil smashed them all when she ran away and killed herself.

He nods, relishing the weight of Steve's fingertips.

Steve fiddles with the hole in Billy's jeans. "What kind of food did you have?"

"Pizza," Billy says.

Steve blinks at him, lost. "That's not very Coca-Cola of the Hargrove's."

"My mom didn't like to cook."

"Funny," Steve says, combing through the tussle of hair on Billy's kneecap, "Mine doesn't either."

Billy aches to knit their fingers together until they meld, forming the kind of sweater you dig out from the back of your closet year after year, echoing on the stiff frigid breeze until it's tattered and falling apart.

Steve looks at him, smiling. "Do you want some pie?"

--

Steve guts and skins the freezer until it's empty. A carcass picked clean.

Mrs. Harrington must have spent her entire bonus at Melvalds on Christmas dinner, enough to feed four Steve Harrington's and all the people who are desperately in love with him.

Billy tries not to think about them and watches from the counter face, his sock feet thumping gently against the cabinet as Steve pulls dish after dish from a cloud of white exhaust, plopping containers onto the island. "Green bean casserole," Steve says, "Pumpkin pie, pecan, apple, blueberry--"

"--You're supposed to eat all of this?"

"You're gonna help me."

"I don't like green bean casserole," Billy says, yelping when Steve feigns death and collapses into the counter. "Jesus Christ--"

"I'm midwestern, that's a cardinal sin to me."

"Dope makes you dramatic, pretty boy."

"You hate midwestern people."

"Yeah," Billy says, giggling.

"You hate me."

"Shut up," Billy slips off the counter and onto his feet, examining every frozen item while Steve repacks.

"Which pie sounds good?"

"I dunno," Billy says, eyeing the blueberry with suspicion, "Don't we have to wait for them to thaw before we throw them in the oven?"

"I don't think so," Steve says, "I've already tried the cherry and that baked fine."

"I've never had it before."

Steve blinks at him, shocked. "How have you never had cherry pie?"

"My dad doesn't like cherries," Billy admits.

"Just because your dad doesn't like cherries--"

"--Look, my mom wasn't on great terms with the oven, and nobody else is going to waste time cooking shit my dad won't eat," Billy snaps. Feeling red-hot all of a sudden. Angry in a way he hasn't been in a long time for being reminded that other people's dads are shitty in the normal way.

Not like Neil.

Steve either doesn't notice or chooses not to take it personally.

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a half-eaten cherry pie, picking at its cling-wrap until Billy can see the cherries where the glitter between layers of perfectly brown crust. Bloody little eyes staring up at him like dead fish.

"You can have the rest."

"The rest?" Billy demands, "But what if I don't like it?"

"Not possible," Steve tells him. He opens the microwave and attempts to shove the pie tray in, yelping when Billy snatches it out of thin air. "What--"

"--Aluminum will catch fire in the microwave." Billy snaps. He tries to find it annoying, but Steve just blinks those big, soft eyes at him and the anger washes away. "Get me a plate, bambi boy," He says.

Steve watches Billy plate the pie, giggling as his nose wrinkles in disgust over its dripping red innards. "This is so gross," Billy says.

"You won't think so, once you try it."

Billy walks it to the microwave, carefully pinching the edges of the plate between his palms. "I can't think of a single other instance where that has been true."

He turns the dial. Forty seconds.

Steve's watching him, face illuminated in the golden hum of the microwave.

"What?" Billy demands.

"Nothing," Steve says, leaning against the counter top, "I just can't believe I'm gonna be here when your life is changed forever."

Billy snorts, stalking to the drawer where the Harringtons keep their silver. "Still dramatic, pretty boy."

"Why do you always say that?" Steve wonders.

Billy freezes in place. Two forks in hand. He peers across the island at Steve, heart thrumming loudly. "Why do I always say what?"

"Pretty boy," Steve clarifies.

It hangs between them. The microwave hums, the longest forty seconds of Billy's life. "I," He says intelligently, "It's just. True."

"What is?"

"You're. Pretty," Billy says. And it's like having teeth pulled.

The microwave beeps.

Steve turns away, yanking the pie from its incubation, "Shit," He says, wiggling his fingers. "Plate's hot as hell."

Billy stands there watching him. Breathing. Dying.

Steve looks at him. "Well, do you wanna try it?" Billy nods. Doesn't move. Steve laughs at him. "Come here."

Billy goes easily, like a lap dog being called to perch. He and his forks stare down at the pie with caution, stomach churning at the congealed mess before him.

Steve grabs one of the forks from Billy and cuts the point off, blowing on it until its warm enough to eat. Steve pops it into his mouth, brown eyes falling closed. "Mmmm," He says, like someone would with a spooked and disgusted baby, "It's good."

Billy shakes his head.

"You're so dramatic," Steve says, cutting another huge chunk for Billy. He holds it in the air between them, eyebrows raised. "Trust me."

Billy stares at it. "Why's mine so big?"

"I want you to get the full range of flavor."

"But--"

Steve shoves the fork into Billy's mouth, swiftly depositing the little cherry eyeballs onto Billy's tongue. He coughs and sputters, lips curling around the fork as Steve yanks it away. "Chew," Steve says.

Billy does.

Like it's the first time he's ever done it, clumsy and a little rushed and very, very distracted by the way Steve's watching him.

"Swallow," Steve says softly, barely there.

Billy does. There's something on his face. On his lips.

"What do you think?" Steve asks, staring at them.

Billy resists the urge to lick it away, "Sucked," He says, expecting Steve to laugh, but.

Something rests between them, not growing or stretching or changing shape, but it's there. It suffocates.

Steve looks at him, somehow closer than he was before. "Sorry, pretty boy," He says.

Billy's heart stops. "Why would you say that?"

"It's true. You're pretty," Steve says, watching the red on Billy's lips burn brighter. "You've got a little something on your face." Billy lifts a hand, mouth falling open when Steve grabs his wrist. "Can I," Steve says, soft as summer rain, "Can I kiss you, Billy?"

Billy doesn't move as Steve licks into his mouth, Cherry washing away under the rough, sweet drag of intention.

--

THIS IS PART ONE!!!! OF A TWO-PARTER!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I get around to part two <3

[tkachuktkaching]

Some of the Matthew Quotes from his recent Interview

Fresh off eliminating the Tampa Bay Lightning in the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Panthers forward Matthew Tkachuk joined The Pat McAfee Show on ESPN to talk all things puck on Wednesday.

Still in amazement of Tkachuk’s toughness to play with a broken sternum during last year’s Stanley Cup Final, McAfee and his energetic band of co-hosts started the show talking about playing through pain.

“In the Stanley Cup Playoffs all bets are off and you do whatever you can to play,”

“He was fired up to see us beat Tampa the other day,” (talking of his dad)

“Growing up having him as a voice, as a role model, my brother and I were not forced to play hockey, but we had everything around us to help us grow into it and love the game. We had him around every day to ask about anything, help coach us, teach us, but I’d say the biggest thing that allowed my brother and I to make it to this level was each other. Having that unbelievably close relationship, being each other’s best friends, biggest supporters, and competitors as well.”

“One thing that I’m super grateful that my parents did, and my mom deserves so much credit because she was mainly the one getting up at 5 a.m. to take us to the 6 a.m. practices while my dad was on the road, was that we were never allowed to play hockey 24/7, 365 days like some of these kids do now,” said Tkachuk. “My parents were all about playing every sport you can. I think that’s what allowed me to not get burnt out and my love for the game kept growing and growing more.”

“Don’t touch Bob and there won’t be any problems,” When asked about Tampa Bay and the two goalie interference calls against the Lightning in Game 5.

“We are really excited to get a few days of rest and get rejuvenated, but it’s the playoffs and you just want to be out there playing,”

“Some of the best parts of playoffs are just hanging out with the boys in the lounges on the road and watching other games throughout the league.”

With three first-round matchups still ongoing, Tkachuk spoke on how hard it is to close things out.

“The fourth game in a playoff series is always the hardest to win because no matter what you are in the series, the other team is so desperate playing for their lives you have to find a way to match that or exceed that,” said Tkachuk.

Something that can help with closing out a series is playing in front of a home crowd.

“It’s a tough question because last year in playoffs are team was lights out on the road and it didn’t matter where we played,”

“When playing in Florida, we have such great fans and the building is so loud, I think home ice is important for us, having the extra potential game seven at home, you always want to have that at home. I think our fans are so loud and we’ve made this rink here in Florida a tough place to play, so I think home ice is important for our team, it’s an extra layer you can add to the series. I think we have great fans, so it’s important for us.”

Among the recent sellout crowds at Amerant Bank Arena, Miami Dolphins Jalen Ramsey and Jaylen Waddle have come out to support and hype up the crowd with the banging of the pre-game drum.

Knowing Waddle was there, Tkachuk told the show he was planning on a big goal celebration in salute of the fellow local superstar.

“If I scored I was going to do the ‘Waddle’ because he was there,” said Tkachuk. “He’s my favorite football player.”

While it didn’t happen that game, McAfee called for Tkachuk to bring in the dance celebration next time he lights the lamp.

[jebewonmorelike]

Young and Rich, Tall and Just Ask Me Out Already

wc: 2.1k pronouns: n/a; none used warnings: none really? maybe the tiniest bit of angst... fluff... and i used the word d*ck once, my bad also you can pretend they're in college or high school, doesn't really matter summary: prepschool!ricky/richboy!ricky just can't get scholarshipkid!reader to go out with him no matter how many helicopters he lands in the school courtyard ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ guys... whoah... rich-boy-with-a-soft-side ricky just kind of hits different? i must say i outdid myself with this one so please, please, please enjoy :)

Ricky has been trying to convince you to go on a date with him for two weeks now.

The first time he asked you was after Chemistry one afternoon. You had been assigned as lab partners at the beginning of the semester and shared a desk during class every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 1:10 to 2:40 P.M.

At first, you'd found it kind of difficult to relate to Ricky. His dad was a CEO at some big tech company and he didn't really let anyone forget it. Always flaunting his designer watch with the newest phone model in hand, entire classes full of students couldn't help but fall for him as he draped his Louis Vuitton jacket casually over one shoulder.

But you were just "the scholarship kid". A humble upbringing and a borderline genius IQ, attending this prep academy was an opportunity you and your family could never have turned down.

Working on labs with Ricky wasn't difficult-- mainly because he let you do all the work while he listened to music and played on his phone. But if you were being honest, you didn't really mind. You enjoyed working on the labs at your own (fast) pace and you didn't have to worry about a lab partner messing up your data.

You never disliked Ricky. But you also could never really figure out what to say to him when he talked so expensive and acted so expensive...

And looked so expensive.

But after a few weeks of silent lab work together (and a handful of flunked quizzes returned to Ricky's desk), the tall blonde suddenly turned to you with his latest graded test in hand.

"What did you get?" He asked, eyes peering over to try to get a glimpse at your paper.

"Oh, um..." You placed it flat on the table.

His eyes widened in surprise. "105? Again!?"

"What do you mean 'again'? How do you know that?" You questioned, looking back at him suspiciously.

He completely ignored your question. "There wasn't even a bonus question on this one! Where did the extra points come from?"

"The mini-essay I submitted last night on chemical kinetics."

He stared at you for a moment. "You're kind of weird, you know that?"

You nodded. "I guess you would think that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questioned, dark eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you want me to help you or not? I would think calling me weird wouldn't really help persuade me," you quipped, snatching his test from his hand and reading the grade circled in red pen: 63.

"Hey! Don't--," he protested, trying to steal the paper back to no avail as you slid it into your bag and zipped it closed. "I didn't even ask you for help yet."

"You were obviously going to. You've barely said one word to me in four weeks, so. I'm pretty sure you weren't just making friendly conversation."

Ricky blinked back at you silently for a moment. "It's not like you've said anything to me either."

"I'll look over your test to see what you need to improve on. Do you have the rest of the quizzes from this month with you?" You asked quickly, standing up from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder as the bell rang.

"Uh, no I don't," he admitted, not making any move to get up now that class had ended.

"Okay, well--."

"But I'll bring them tonight. To the library," he interrupted.

You stood there silently, not really sure what to say.

"Be there at 9," he said definitively, a grin suddenly spreading across his face as he stood up, grabbed his bag, and started walking towards the door.

"You--... Do you think I don't have a life or something? I... What if I had plans!?"

"You did not have plans," he said with a laugh. Just before he walked out the door, he turned over his shoulder to add, "But now you do. With me."

~

It was like that, how you started tutoring Ricky late nights at the library. You met after 9 P.M. the days that you had class together, going over the material you'd covered that afternoon. He was a surprisingly passable student and you started to wonder if failing his classes was somehow intentional. He started offering to help you with lab work as the weeks went on, messing up detrimentally only a handful of times but you did appreciate his effort if nothing else.

Your tutoring was definitely helping; Ricky's quizzes came back now with passing grades that had even once reached the height of a 91. But what you didn't want Ricky to know was that he was helping you, too.

He had been right that day: you hadn't had any plans that night. And you rarely did. It was hard to fit in with the other students at your school when they had all led such different lives than you. You could have never guessed in a million years that Ricky would eventually become something like your friend.

Ricky made you laugh. He sharpened your pencils for you. He brought you snacks you liked. He'd let you borrow his Nintendo Switch for the day, as long as you promised to give it back to him in class. You hated to admit it, but a few weeks into your tutoring sessions and there was much less studying going on than was originally intended.

And another thing you hated (not really) to admit: you liked Ricky.

Sure, he could be a little overconfident. A little braggadocios. A little too reliant on his daddy's money.

But late at night in the library, you both grew tired together and the sleep deprivation gave way to a much more vulnerable Ricky. He'd tell you about his family, his childhood, his favorite things, his troubles, his dreams... and he'd listen carefully to you when you shared yours, too.

One time, after sharing a surprisingly upsetting childhood memory involving his father, you could see Ricky's eyes start to water. He tried to brush it off, adjusting his watch as the walls of the persona began to build back up in defense. But before you could stop yourself, your hand had reached across the table and landed on top of his.

He stared at it for awhile before looking up to meet your eyes. "Thanks," he said quietly, swallowing with uncertainty.

You removed your hand and placed it back in your lap. "Sorry," you replied awkwardly.

"No, no, you're cute," he said quickly, a hand flying to cover his mouth when he saw the expression on your face and realized what he had said. "I--I--... I meant 'cool'. Like... Like I meant to say 'you're cool', as in, like, 'don't worry about it'."

His babbling just made you smile. "Freudian slip?"

"Exactly," he agreed hastily. "Wait, no!"

"Too late, no take backs," you blurt, flipping your textbook to the next page to continue with your notes. Your heart absolutely raced inside your chest when you heard Ricky lightly breathe out a laugh before following your lead and resuming his note-taking.

~

Ricky certainly had a public image he wanted to portray, but whenever he gave you a glimpse underneath the facade... that was when you couldn't help but fall.

So when he asked you out for the first time, sun shining as you walked together from Chemistry to the student lounge on a Friday afternoon, your stomach absolutely flipped with excitement.

"I'm gonna take you to dinner," Ricky said, hand combing through his blonde, coiffed hair.

"Like--... Like on a date?" You clarified, looking up at him to try to read his expression. But much to your dismay, he was looking straight ahead, not at you.

"Yeah," he responded flippantly, hands finding his pockets. "There's this new place that opened downtown that's, like, mega exclusive. Figured you can't say no to that."

"No."

"Exactly... Wait, what?" Ricky stopped in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"No thanks," you repeated. Looking at him now, you could tell exactly who was standing in front of you. No matter how much you liked Ricky, you didn't want to go on a date with this persona of his.

You wanted to go on a date with Ricky.

"Oh..." He replied, shock written all over his face. He swallowed hard and you swore you could see his cheeks start to redden with embarrassment.

"I really like you, Ricky," you clarified with a smile as you watched his eyebrows shoot up at the confession. "But no thank you."

You didn't wait around to field any possible questions. Turning on your heels, you headed off in the direction of your dorm leaving Ricky absolutely dumbfounded in the campus courtyard.

The next time he asked you out, it was in the hallway before class the following Monday. He handed you a small, light blue gift box, his eyes looking everywhere except at you.

You suppressed a smile, opening the box to find a dainty, rose gold bangle with the signature Tiffany T-shaped cuff ends. After having a mini heart attack over how much the bracelet in your hands must've cost, you took a deep breath to maintain your composure.

"I can't accept this," you managed, though you had to admit you were a bit sad to refuse it (and to refuse him a second time).

Ricky stared back at you, absolutely astonished. "Why... Why not?"

"I really like you, Ricky," you confessed again. "But I'll have to say no thank you."

As your professor called for everyone to take their seats, you hurried inside the classroom and left Ricky to trail in behind you completely stunned once more.

~

Ricky has asked you out about eight more times since that day. Each time, the simple question is skirted around and instead replaced with more and more elaborate and expensive gestures.

Now, it's 9:30 on a Friday night and you're typing away on your laptop, working on a paper that isn't due until the end of the semester when Ricky bursts through the doors of the library and darts straight towards your usual table.

"Are you seeing someone else?" He blurts out, catching his breath as he stands in front of you waiting for an answer. His hair falls boyishly across his forehead and he's dressed in a a hoodie and black joggers. You get the impression he had rushed here suddenly without any preparation and he looks so stupid cute.

"No," you reply, chewing on your cheeks to keep from smiling.

"Are you interested in men?"

"Unfortunately."

"You keep saying you like me and then you refuse to go out with me. Do you like me?" He asks, a little too loud for a library, but you're both lucky there's no one else that would be studying on a Friday night.

"I do," you confirm, watching as his eyes grow a bit more pleading as he wrestles with his own confusion.

"Then... Please... Will you please go out with me? I like spending time with you so much. I like talking to you so much. I really, really like you, (Y/N). Will you please just give me a chance?"

"Of course," you answer immediately.

"Yeah, I get it, I get--." Ricky's eyes suddenly light up as he realizes what you said. "REALLY?"

You nod, biting your lip in a satisfied smile and throwing your laptop into your backpack. "Let's go right now!"

He blinks quickly, following you as you stand up and walk towards the door. "Right now? But you--."

"Ricky, I don't really have any time to waste. I've been waiting for you to ask me out for two weeks now! Can you blame me for being a bit eager?"

"What... what do you mean? I've asked you out, like, a dozen times," he says as you step outside into the cool evening air, grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks.

You smile up at him. "No, you haven't."

"Yes, I--," he starts to protest, but you cut him off.

"You've told me you're taking me to an exclusive restaurant. You've bought me designer jewelry. You've given me an autographed poster from WayV. You've hired the Vienna Philharmonic to play at the student lounge. You've landed a helicopter in the middle of the courtyard..."

You watch as realization begins to wash over his face. His mouth hangs open a bit as he processes his numerous missteps. Then, a hand finds its way to the back of his neck as he smiles at you sheepishly. "Oh."

"So I've been waiting very patiently, you see."

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a smile, and then more solemnly he adds, "And I'm really sorry for being a total dick."

"Well, you're in luck. The only way to make it up to me is to get late night pancakes with me. And it just so happens, that I am incredibly hungry right now," you say, taking his hand and starting to pull him in the direction of the parking lot.

Ricky laces your fingers together as he falls in step with you. "Oh! I know the best place for pancakes, it's--."

You clear your throat and he stops his thought in its tracks.

"The diner?" He asks, looking to you for approval.

You nod, giggling back at him. "The diner."

[stellarspecter]

stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar

1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)

so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics

“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…” 

The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord. 

“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the — good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.

She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.

Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.

“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.

After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”

He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.

“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”

“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.

Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.

“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”

“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour? 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”

Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something? 

He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.

Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”

Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”

“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”

Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”

Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.

“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?” 

Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment. 

“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.

“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile. 

“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.” 

Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”

“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music. 

“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest. 

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”

“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.

Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”

Steve nods. “Yep.”

“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”

He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.

They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.

“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.

Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”

Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”

Dustin groans. “Come on.”

“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”

With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.

When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him. 

“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”

“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.

“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”

It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”

Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again. 

He’ll be counting every single one.

[voxofthevoid]

Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #7—and showing no signs of stopping. It doesn't help that my writing pace has been relatively slow and scattered last month and this one, so I'm covering less of the narrative in a month than I used to. We'll see if November is more chill.

The fic is now 53k, and I've just started Chapter 09. The story is only approaching the halfway mark, and Gojou has yet to show up—next chapter or the one after though!

This week's entry features Tōji and Yuuji, with a little bit of sleeping!Megumi. It's my first time actually writing Tōji, and I gotta say, it's fun. Didn't mean for him to come across...like that, but well. It fits.

Enjoy?

“Fushiguro! Fushiguro, open up! Fushiguro—” Yuuji’s fists meet empty air instead of solid wood, and he pitches forward, right into a slab of rock—that yields ever so slightly, more suffocating than bruising. “Mmmph?”

“Pinkie,” drawls a distinctive voice. “You lost down there or just having fun?”

Yuuji detaches himself from Fushiguro Tōji’s overly generous chest, staring up and blinking till the world makes a little more sense. A narrow-eyed stare greets him. The scarred corner of that mouth is quirked up, but it’s not clear if it’s a smirk or a frown or some biting combination of both.

“Sorry,” Yuuji gasps, a few seconds too late to salvage his dignity. He backs up too, almost tripping down the front steps in his hurry to get away from Fushiguro’s dad’s sheer bulk. “Didn’t mean to—sorry for the ruckus, it’s just—Fushiguro?”

A dark eyebrow rises sharply. “That sure is me.”

“No, I mean—not you, Fushiguro-san, I meant—”

“I know who you want, kid,” Fushiguro’s dad says, stepping back from the door and turning away, leaving it open in what’s the closest to permission Yuuji’s ever gotten from this man. He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “What’s the fuss anyway? You two have a little lover’s spat?”

“…We’re not dating, Fushiguro-san.”

“Fucker’s spat then.”

Yuuji breathes in and breathes out the urge to slam his head into the closest wall. “We’re not…doing that either.”

“Kids these days.” He scoffs. “Too damn slow about everything.”

Yuuji opens his mouth and closes it without saying a single word. He’s pretty sure the guy’s just fucking with him. Or fucking with Fushiguro, more like. He’s the one who always gets all red-faced and worked up when his dad starts on this. Yuuji usually finds it funny, at least after he got over the initial burst of panic-infused confusion at someone like this man thinking he was trying to woo his son, but today, he’s—

“Is Fushiguro home? I mean, Megumi—” Yuuji makes a face, the name tasting wrong on his tongue—not overly familiar, no, just not allowed.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Fushiguro’s dad tells him, with a rumble in his throat that’s a little too mean to be just amusement. “Just call me Tōji, it’s fine. Family names ain’t all that anyway. But kid, you’ll be grey in the grave before that stuffy brat gives you permission to use his pretty little name. You just gotta take what you want from the likes of him.”

“I—” He’s got no idea what to say to that. He’s not sure he wants to learn. “Is he here?”

Fushiguro’s dad—Tōji, which is weird but somehow not as weird as saying Megumi—drops heavily onto the touch, picking up the remote and gesturing upward with it. “In his room.”

“Oh. He wasn’t picking up his phone.”

“So you decided to, what, run here?” Tōji slants him a sideways glance, scanning Yuuji from head to toe, and he looks immeasurably bored with everything and anything, but Yuuji still feels skewered through, suddenly hyperaware of the clothes sticking to his skin with sweat and the hair plastered to his forehead. It’s not the running that turned him into a sweat factory, but the real reason is worse. “Needy much?”

“No, I…” There’s a wild urge to really explain—everything Yuuji saw, everything he didn’t. But he clings to what’s left of his sense and chokes it down. “I was just worried.”

Tōji looks away with a rough huff of breath, shaking his head while flipping through channels. “Sure. He’s sleeping, not rejecting you or whatever overdramatic bullshit you built up in your horny teenage head.”

“Sleeping?” Yuuji asks, looking at the dusty clock hanging on the wall even though he’s got a damn good idea what hour it is. “It’s three in the afternoon. Fushiguro hates napping.”

“Does he?” Tōji asks disinterestedly. “Go wake him up then.”

“I can do that?”

“Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not going to hold your dick for you. Just don’t get too frisky. The little shit sleeps with a knife.”

Tōji sounds such an unsettling mixture of irritated and impressed that Yuuji backs away toward the stairs in sheer self-defense, turning around halfway and speedwalking the rest of the distance, bounding up the stairs with a lot less care than he usually takes, and he’s at Fushiguro’s door in seconds, grabbing the knob and pushing it open before he can think it through—or think at all.

The door opens soundlessly, revealing the familiar confines of Fushiguro’s room.

There’s a boy-sized lump on the bed, buried under a thick duvet. The window’s open, but the curtains have been pulled shut, drenching the room in dark blue light. They billow out as if greeting Yuuji, settling slowly back down as the breeze dies out.

Fushiguro doesn’t stir.

Yuuji creeps closer, all his urgency pulling back under his skin to writhe there. No matter what Tōji said, Yuuji doesn’t really want to wake Fushiguro. He just has to see him.

He just needs to make sure he’s okay.

Yuuji stops in the middle of the room, still a few steps away from the bed. He’s close enough to see Fushiguro’s face and even the shape of his body under the covers. He looks…fine. Healthy, unharmed. He’s breathing deeply, and his face looks different than it usually does, but that’s always the case when he’s asleep, all those stubborn frowns and furrows falling away to turn its lines into something softer and sweeter.

And there’s no real expression on Fushiguro’s face right now, but it’s almost funny how this lack of expression is so different from the inhuman blankness that bore into Yuuji from those church pews. Fushiguro’s eyes are closed right now, but Yuuji knows in his bones that, if he pried those eyes open, it’d be blue-green fire that glares out at him, not that horrible darkness.

His legs almost buckle as pure relief floods him.

Yuuji backs away instead, anything but steady. He’s still careful to be quiet, even when he finds the half-open door without looking away from Fushiguro and steps back out of the room.

He can’t bring himself to close the door and deny himself the view of Fushiguro’s sleeping body.

That’s creepy, right? Not as bad as whatever Tōji thinks Yuuji plans to do to his son, but that’s a low bar. He shouldn’t be standing around staring at his sleeping friend, even from a distance.

It’s just—

Yuuji doesn’t remember.

The last time Yuuji saw Fushiguro, it was at the church, and Sukuna was holding them both—Yuuji in his arms, Fushiguro under his fucked-up spell. And that’s the last thing Yuuji remembers of the church. Standing there with Sukuna while his worldview shattered into splinters, each one drawing blood. He thinks the hands around his neck tightened, but he doesn’t remember suffocating.

Only darkness—and then light, the sun streaming in through his own bedroom windows.

He’d wanted it to be a dream so badly.

But he knew it wasn’t, even before the bruises made themselves known.

He lost hours. Nanami wasn’t in the house, but there was breakfast cold on the table. Yuuji didn’t take a single bite, but he’ll apologize for that later. At least Nanami wasn’t around to hear Yuuji curse that church and the monster there, his voice and his panic growing louder with every text and call that went unanswered, and he didn’t see Yuuji tear out of that house like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Maybe it’s a miracle Tōji let him inside at all. Kugisaki’s grandma sure wouldn’t have.

But Fushiguro’s here. He looks like himself. He’s…not safe, probably, but he’s whole and alive. And that tight, thorny knot in the center of Yuuji’s chest won’t really fade until he talks to Fushiguro and makes sure it’s really his friend, all inside, but he doesn’t want to wake him up for that.

In case it’s vacant black eyes that flash open to greet him, in case—

No. That won’t happen. Yuuji won’t let it happen, even if he has to march back to that church and tear Fushiguro out of Sukuna’s belly himself.

He finally closes the door, staggering back to slump against the opposite wall. His heart is somewhere in his throat, not pounding away so much as clogging his airways. Every breath tastes like congealed blood.

It’s no phantom flavor.

Yuuji can feel it in his own blood—the rot, waiting.

Is that what Sukuna did to Fushiguro? Pry open his mouth, pour in the filth.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 8

Hello! Thanks to WIP Wednesday I managed to finish a chapter of each of the stories so things are moving right a long with this story and the others. With any luck, I'll have Secret Tunnel (game show AU) finished by the time the weekend is over with. Fingers crossed.

In this Steve goes on a bit of a roller coaster of emotion. Also a bit of naughtiness in the middle, so 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Steve put together the package he had be planning after he ate his burger. It was no chili burger from Benny’s but it was really good. It had caramelized onions with a thousand island dressing on the bun which was some kind of fancy bread.

Now the fries, that was something to rave about. They were seasoned and deep fried. He had eaten almost all of them before he even touched the burger.

Then once he was done with the package, he went down to the front desk for them to mail it off. Now he was at loose ends again. He could go back up to his room, but he really didn’t want to.

It had only been three days since he got kicked out and he was bored. So he looked around the lobby for inspiration. Then he spotted a discarded newspaper. Probably someone who wanted to read the financial stuff and found their stocks had tanked.

That was what his dad did every day. He didn’t understand it anyway. You were paying for nothing. Even when things were really good, you didn’t want to sell your shares because things might get better. But if the stock drops than you’ve lost money. It was gambling in the worst sort of way.

But he picked it up and began flipping through the pages, looking for the movie listings. When he found them he looked through the ads to see if there was anything good. Which there wasn’t.

With a sigh, Steve put the paper down. He chewed on his nails for a moment or two. Then he snapped his fingers. He’ll call Dustin. See if the kids wanted to go to the arcade. He had money to burn, so why not let the kids go nuts for a couple of hours.

He looked at his watch and then winced. Oops! Maybe that would be better for tomorrow as it was way later than he thought. But he could call Eddie.

That brought an instant smile to face and he dashed back upstairs. He walked into the room just as the phone began ringing. His smile turned into a grin as he walked across the room. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello!”

“You sound happy, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “You have a good day?”

Steve laughed and kicked his feet. “Much better now that I’m talking to you. I sent off your surprise and it should get to you by the time you get to LA.”

“Aww, baby,” Eddie said. “I can’t wait.” He paused for a moment. “I wanted to apologize to you about Chrissy. She was fucking rude to you and I chewed her out for it.”

Steve blinked for a moment. What now? He was used to people being rude and dismissive to him. No one ever apologized for that. “You did?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said sternly. “I did. She thought that this little arrangement of ours was going to be temporary, but when I told her I had paid for the room for six months, she was very upset. She told me I couldn’t just throw money around like that. That’s when I told her about my little presents for you. Then she really hit the fan.”

“Oh,” he murmured. “I don’t want to cause you trouble with your management, but I–I don’t have anywhere else to go. My dad is still out there trying to make my life difficult.” His bottom lip began to shake.

“But don’t worry a thing, pretty bird,” Eddie cooed. “I got her sorted out and now she understands how important this is for me and somehow my impassioned speech managed to sway my bandmates too. I don’t think they knew how bad things had gotten for you.”

“What–what did you tell them?” Steve asked softly, his voice beginning to break.

“Nothing that they didn’t already know,” Eddie soothed. “I just made it as dire as possible so that they got the message loud and clear.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. That–that he could handle. Because as much as he wanted to shrug this off and pretend he didn’t need or want help, the truth was that he did need Eddie’s help and if getting that help meant getting all of Corroded Coffin on board and their manager, too then that’s what Steve would have to accept that.

“I really appreciate this,” he murmured. “I knew my dad was going to make trouble. I just didn’t think he’d go this far. To make sure I didn’t have anything but my car and my clothes.”

“I know, little Canary,” Eddie said, “just put your trust in me and I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay, Eddie,” Steve breathed. “I owe you so much and I don’t know how I can pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, I’m just happy to be able to help you.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes as tears began to well. He was just so overwhelmed from the kindness of a stranger that he was about to start bawling right there on the phone. A hiccuping sob escaped his lips and then it was like the floodgates had opened. He just sobbed and sobbed. No one had ever been this kind to him before.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I wish I could be there to hold you. So this will just have to do.” And then he started singing softly. It was gentle and slow and spoke of having a safe place to land.

Slowly his sobs slackened and he gave a final hiccup. “That was beautiful. Did you write it?”

“Sure did,” Eddie said proudly. “First song I ever wrote in fact. Wrote it the night the court awarded permanent custody of me to my Uncle Wayne. I knew from that moment on that my dad couldn’t come back and hurt me again.”

Steve rolled over onto his belly with a sigh. “That must have felt so good. Having someone you trusted to step up and take care of you.”

“He’s a good man,” Eddie agreed warmly. “And this is me paying that kindness forward to you, little Canary.”

Steve let out a small shuddering breath, letting the knot in his chest loosen. “So tell me about your concert tonight,” he said. “Where were you playing again?”

Eddie made a small huff of laughter. “We were in Texas tonight...”

Steve let Eddie’s warm voice wash over him.

“You feeling sleepy, my little Canary?” Eddie murmured after awhile.

He let out a little sleepy snuffle. “No.”

Eddie chuckled. “If you say so sweetheart.” And he continued to talk until the snuffles became a soft sonorous snore.

“Good night, Stevie.”

~

Steve woke up to the dial tone in his ear again. He moaned as he rolled over on his back and ran his fingers through his hair.

He needed to stop falling asleep to the musician’s voice. It was really becoming a problem. It always made him wake up hard as a fucking rock. He picked up the phone and put back in its cradle. He flopped back on the bed. He lifted the covered to glare at his aching erection.

He palmed his cock in an attempt to get it go to down. But instead it made it worse. He pushed down harder, but his own roughness made him moan. He could feel the outline of cock as it throbbed against his hip.

He hadn’t gone this long without at least rubbing himself off since he was a stupid freshman. He knew he should wait until he was in the shower, but the walk would be so fucking painful. Steve threw off the covers and then shoved the front of his shorts down to free his cock. He then slowly unbuttoned his sleep shirt. Rubbing his nipples and stroking his chest to get himself really riled up.

If he was going to this, he was going to wring out as pleasure out of this as he possibly could. He lifted his hips and slid the shorts off as slow as he could.

He brought his hands back up his legs, his thighs spreading as his palms cupped his cock. It was leaking at the tip and he dragged his thumb over his slit, smearing it across the glans. He moaned again. This time louder. That felt so good. He did it again, going the other direction. Slow and rough.

He imagined Eddie watching him. Directing his every move. How hard he should pull. How rough he should get.

The way he came hard and long was a testament to Eddie’s raw sexual power, and Steve’s vivid imagination. He grabbed a couple of tissues from the tissue box next to the bed and cleaned himself up the best he could.

Then he shucked off the top and waddled into the shower, tossing the tissues on his way.

~

It was a little bit before noon by the time Steve got to call Dustin.

“Steve!” Dustin greeted warmly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“What are you dorks up to today?” he asked bluntly.

“I don’t know,” Dustin whined. “I don’t think we really have any plans. At least not together.”

“Call up the goon squad and find out,” Steve said. “And then call me back.”

Steve could feel the kid’s skepticism through the phoneline as he thought about it. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call you back.”

Just before he hung up, Dustin bit out. “We call ourselves The Party, Steve. Not the goon squad.”

“You call yourselves the party Steve?” he murmured. “That’s so sweet of you–”

There was a click and a dial tone. Steve grinned at the receiver before putting it down on the cradle. He threw open his wardrobe and started shifting through his new clothes. He was going somewhere with a lot of kids and soda and greasy pizza, so nothing too fancy.

Not finding anything fit the bill, he went through his drawers. He decided on a nice pair of jeans and a dark blue tanktop with a black short sleeved button up over the top. He fixed his hair in the mirror and then pulled on his old sneakers. He didn’t want to get any of his new shoes sticky.

He had run his fingers through his hair one more time when the phone rang.

“Hello!” he greeted.

“Well, hello to you too little Canary,” the warm velvet voice sounded through phone. “You sound happy today.”

Steve’s gut felt like warm chocolate had pooled there. “Hi-ya, Eddie.”

“I was just calling to tell you that I’ll be out of rang cell phone wise and so you won’t be able to call me until I get to Arizona tomorrow.”

“Awww...” Steve huffed. “Way to make me sad.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie purred. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, so that I didn’t think I was avoiding you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks for that.”

“Have a good day, okay?” Eddie said.

“I’ll try!” Steve chirped back.

He barely hung up the phone before it rang again, his hand never leaving the receiver. “Hey.”

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “I tried to call you but your line was busy!”

Steve let out a long slow sigh. “Other people do call me, Dusty. Like the guy who’s paying for all this?”

Dustin huffed. “Well if you would just tell me who he is, maybe I would be more forgiving...”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Dusty,” Steve bit out. “I don’t want it getting back to my dad who it is. And before you tell me you’ll never tell. You’ll say something when you think no one is around and someone will hear you. Until my dad gives up his little Crusade, I ain’t tell you shit.”

“Come on, Steve...” Dustin begged.

“I was going to take everyone to the arcade today but if you’re going to keep hounding me about it, maybe I won’t.”

The line went silent.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Dustin murmured. “I just want to make sure he’s a good guy and not taking advantage you.”

Steve let out a breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes tightly. “He isn’t even in Hawkins right now and I don’t know when he’ll be back, okay?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay.”

Then he held the phone away from his ear.

Wait for it.

Wait…for…it.

“You want to take everyone to the arcade?!” Dustin screamed.

“Sure do, bud,” Steve said once it was safe to do so.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Dustin screeched. “When? What time are you come over? Details please!”

Steve worked out all the details and sorted out rides. When they finally hang up, Steve positively beaming.

Eddie was paying forward the kindness his uncle gave to him to Steve. And Steve was paying it forward to his kids. And that left a warm feeling in his chest like nothing else could.

~

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts