#single-mom Emma

[yujateaandpi]

Sneak peek at The Ballad of Emma May. This will be a Fiddleford-focused comic releasing between Chapters 1 and 2 of Thirty More Years!

[monkayy]

[always-a-joyful-note]

The thing about Link Click is that if you think you have escaped the way Emma continues to haunt the narrative, no you have not

[hide-your-bugs-away]

The best day of my life, not gonna lie 🥹💙🎹✨️

[thatcatangelwriter]

I have many nelson family thoughts like why did we never dwell on them more. I mean without them we wouldn't have the show at all

[smiletimeisrunningout]

someone should give me threads with characters who are close to Emma dealing with her being too much of a self-sacrificing hero with no sense of danger, because she WOULD actually be more careful if guilted into it confronted about how much she's making them worry

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

There are really people out there who have never been around some asshole straight guy who talked about killing cats that weren’t yours or threatened to kill your own. Like, seriously? You’ve never had to fight to keep your ass from trying to fight a guy over that, IN PERSON?!

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts Pt III - S.H

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Single!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Summary - A winter dance recital prompts you and Steve to spend a little more time together outside of the school.

AN - here they are again! the crowd favs it seems. thank you all so much again for the love on previous parts, i’m so excited for everyone to see where the story is headed and what these two losers get up to next. ~ emma <3

Outside the door labeled with a plaque that reads ‘Mr. Harrington’ in neat font, you can just barely make out the faint hum of a distantly familiar song. The door is slightly ajar but you still give a soft knock before entering to announce your arrival.

“Mommy!” Abbey shouts as she barrels towards you; whatever activity she was previously occupied with long forgotten.

“Hi, bug!” You greet through a quiet grunt as you hoist her up. “How was your day?”

Steve had taken to tutoring Abbey after class most days. He had originally offered under the guise that she was falling behind some of the other kids, and while that may be true, you suspect that he really offered because he noticed how guilty you’d been recently for being late picking Abbey up from school. Your job has been keeping you past three, despite having told them repeatedly that you have to clock out by two. You can’t afford to lose said job– rendering you both effectively homeless– and embarrassingly enough, Steve knows this.

“Good!” she wriggles out of your arms, not too partial for physical affection these days, “I was showing Mr. H my dance for the recital!”

“Is that so?” You ask, amused.

“Yes, but Mr. H is not very good at dancing–” she makes a pitiful face that she unsuccessfully hides from Steve.

“--Hey!” Steve laughs, “I think I’m pretty good!” Trying to sound confident but faltering, it elicits a boisterous laugh from you.

“Show us your moves then, Harrington,”

“Fine,” he huffs defiantly and hilariously contorts himself into what he thinks is a correct position for a pirouette. He balances on one foot– the other one tucked clumsily into his knee– and brings his arms up and over his head like one of those spinning jewelry box ballerinas.

“No, that’s really good. You should keep going,” you try to trap your giggling between your teeth, but Abbey doesn’t spare him such mercy, as she is literally doubled over in a fit of laughter watching him.

“Jerks!” He stops his sorry excuse for a twirl long enough to take in the sight of Abbey, who’s still cackling so much she doesn’t even notice he’s done with this antics. A knowing, affectionate glance is shared between you two at the sight of her.

“Whaddya think, Ab? Am I ready for the big stage?” He motions towards himself flamboyantly– striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Not sensing his sarcasm, she exclaims, “No!” incredulously through her gasping, trying to catch her breath. You imagine this isn’t the first instance of this happening today.

“I guess I’ll leave the dancing up to you then, huh?”

Suddenly, her expression erupts with a look of joy that only comes from a great epiphany,

“Can you come to my recital?!”

–

“Mommy that hurts!” Abbey whines from where she’s seated on the bathroom counter.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Trying to tame her unruly curls into a slicked and gelled ballerina bun was proving to be more challenging than you originally thought. Her dance teacher's instructions were very clear, however– the hair must be in a bun, accompanied by the most ridiculous amount of blush you’ve ever seen on a child, so that she doesn’t look pale under the stage lights.

One entire bottle of hair gel and several broken hair ties later, the updo is as neat as you can possibly manage, “Alright, girl, you’re all set. Let’s go get your costume on, yeah?”

She nods as you assist her off the counter and onto the tiled bathroom floor. She books it to her room and you follow suit, but when you look in her closet where you could’ve sworn you left her costume– it's nowhere to be seen.

“Abbey… where’s your costume?” You ask through a tight lipped smile, suspecting you know exactly what happened to it.

“I don’t know…” she answers mousily.

“Were you using it to play dress-up?”

She breaks instantly– her guilty conscience making it impossible for her to lie to you for very long, “Yes but!--”

“--Abbey!”

“I put it right back where I found it!”

You take a deep, grounding breath before you truly start to overreact, “Well obviously not, Ab. Just help me look for it, okay?”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, you’re sweating and on your hands and knees tearing through your daughter’s closet; the mess you’re making is a problem for your future self. Every item of clothing starts to look exactly the same– just an amalgamation of pink and glitter and blinding sequins.

“I found it, mommy!” Abbey yells triumphantly from the hallway as she sprints into her room– beaming and holding the tutu like it's a gold medal.

“Yes!” You gasp with relief and haphazardly crawl in her direction, suddenly thankful that no one else can witness you in such a state, “Hurry, let’s put it on.”

You slip the sparkly red and green costume on her as quickly as possible without damaging the bun you just spent at least an hour on. She does a little twirl, grinning ear to ear, “I feel like a princess!” She exclaims.

In the car, you struggle to buckle her seatbelt over her frilly tutu. After a little finessing, you figure it’ll be fine for the drive up the road to the local high school where the recital is being hosted in their auditorium.

–

In the lobby, you’re looking as disheveled as you feel. Abbey held one of your arms, and in the other you carried a small duffle bag full of extra hair products and a spare set of tights. She’s bouncing with nerves beside you, and asking you for at least the fifth time in ten minutes, ‘Where’s Mr. H?’

“I’m sure he’s here, Ab, we just have to find him,” you reassure her again, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you scan the room for a perfectly manicured head of chestnut colored hair.

And as if he’s got some powerful sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed, you spot him timidly entering the double doors, dodging stray children and looking a little out of place. He holds a small bouquet of red roses that match the shade of his cheeks and nose– tinted red from the biting chill of early December winds.

“Steve!” You call from where you and Abbey stand near the makeshift dressing rooms– waving frantically to get his attention for your daughter's sake just as much as your own, “Over here!”

A look of recognition and then relief passes over his features when he identifies where his name is being called from, and slowly but surely starts to make his way over to you both. If he was just smiling before, he was positively beaming when he caught the sight of Abbey for the first time. His strides increase in length to catch up to you faster.

“Abbey! Look at you!” He compliments, and suddenly she’s all bashful. The man she looks up to almost as much as her own mother is here to see her perform for the first time, with a bouquet of flowers and an unrelenting grin plastered on his face. The sight does nothing to extinguish the steadily growing fire that’s made a home in the pit of your chest the past four months.

She shyly eyes the flowers in his hands– the bouquet almost the length of her own torso, “I brought these for you,” he extends them out for her and she accepts them timidly, swaying on her feet like she can’t stand to be still, “Thank you,” she all but whispers.

“Of course,” he squeezes her little hand as he straightens back to his full height. He directs his attention to you, “How are you? Did everything go alright?” Now you’re sure you look as frazzled as you feel.

“We had a mishap or two, but nothing we can’t handle. Right, Ab?” She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention– too busy observing the older kids as they mingle in front of the auditorium with their friends, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you give him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, “when does the show start?”

Checking your watch, you reply, “Just a few minutes. I’m going to drop her off backstage, stay here.” He gives a two finger salute and you recapture Abbey’s focus enough to guide her down the hall where dozens of other dancers in identical costumes were congregating.

You kneel down to her eye level, “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing,” gently pinching her blushing cheek for emphasis, “Mr. H and I will be right up front, okay?”

She nods once, “Okay, momma,”

“I love you, Ab,” you give her one last squeeze before sending her off, albeit begrudgingly. You know she’s in good hands with the instructors, but lately it seems like the universe keeps finding new ways to shove in your face just how quickly she’s growing up.

When you relocate Steve, he’s standing exactly where you left him.

“You ready?” He asks as you approach.

“Mhm,” you nod and smile in response, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. Being around him with Abbey is one thing, but without her as a buffer, you find yourself getting increasingly jittery.

An usher hands Steve a program for the recital, which he promptly passes to you before thanking the woman. You can feel his right hand just barely hovering over your lower back with a featherlight pressure to guide you through the swarms of families attempting to enter the auditorium. You don’t think it’s even a conscious act, but the touch makes your heart– for lack of a better phrase– drop into your ass. You come to the stark realization that to the untrained eye, you must resemble two doting parents here to watch their child perform.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” He asks, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Oh–uhm,” trying and failing to speak around the dry muscle that sits in your mouth like lead, “Row C, I think,”

When you reach your assigned seats, he waits for you to go ahead of him, holding his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first’, just like he did that day on the bus. It makes you swoon just as much now as it did then. The auditorium feels sweltering.

“Hey,” he places a clammy hand on your knee when he notices you zoning again, “You okay?” Oh my God get it together, you think.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just,” you pull at the neckline of your wool sweater, “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Long morning?” He asks with an empathetic wince.

“You could say that,” you chuckle breathlessly, “With her? Every morning is a long morning,”

“You can say that again,” he shares in your laughter, “keeps me on my toes, alright.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” you sigh introspectively, “some days I feel like she couldn’t be less like me even if she tried.”

“I beg to differ,” The way he smiles at you sets you on fire from the inside out, but the lights dim– signifying the beginning of the show– before you get the chance to ask him what he meant. It’s only then that he removes his palm from your leg, and you immediately miss the weight of it resting there.

The Nutcracker theme plays over the loudspeaker as a group of ten or so little girls perform a haphazardly put together ballet number. Almost all of them are doing something different, but with huge, toothy smiles on their faces nonetheless. Originally, putting Abbey in dance served as a way to tire her out before bedtime and give yourself a measly hour of alone time, but seeing how much effort she’s put into practicing and how much joy she takes in performing cements your decision to keep her in class.

She performs wonderfully, just as you suspected she would. Always your little perfectionist. You may be biased, but you thought she was the most elegant and beautiful little girl on that stage.

When the company takes their bows, you and Steve both shoot up at the same time to give a standing ovation. Everyone else stays seated, which would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so filled to the brim with pride for your daughter. There was simply no room in your body for any other emotion.

“Yay, Ab!”

“Let’s go, Abbey!”

You both shout simultaneously, clapping your hands ecstatically.

–

Back in the lobby, your arms are overflowing with Abbey’s things from the dressing room along with the flowers Steve brought her.

“Did you see me?!” She asks expectantly, as if you could’ve seen anyone else up there except for her.

“Of course we did!” Steve assures her quickly, “For a second I thought I was watching the real Nutcracker,”

She blushes wildly, “Really?” If you didn’t know better, you thought you could’ve seen stars reflecting in her pupils.

“Totally! You were the best one up there,” he takes his forefinger and mimics drawing an ‘X’ shape over the left side of his chest, “Cross my heart.”

Abbey tugs on the hem of your sweater you were starting to become too warm in again, “Can we still go get milkshakes?” she asks. You had forgotten all about her stage fright induced breakdown two days ago, during which you promised to get her a treat if she went through with performing.

Checking the time, you saw it was already well past eight o’clock– but what would one late bedtime hurt?

“Sure, that sounds yummy. Say goodbye to Mr. H, then we’ll go,” she barrels into his legs at full speed– her signature– and wraps her arms tightly around his knees.

“Bye, Abbey, I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his legs and made her way back to her designated spot next to you.

 “Goodbye, Steve, thanks for coming.” You give a small wave accompanied by a tender smile.

“Thanks for having me.” He said, returning the gesture.

Feeling a little reluctant yourself, just as Steve was crossing the threshold of the double doors, you called,

“Hey, Steve?”

He turned back at the sound of your voice, looking at you over his shoulder just enough for you to admire the straight slope of his nose and the twin moles on his cheek. He was giving you that warm, anticipative smile you were beginning to grow particularly fond of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you–uhm,” Don’t get nervous now, “Would you want to join us?”

–

At Benny’s, Abbey insists on sharing a booth with Steve while you sit opposite of them on an uncomfortable, sticky vinyl chair. Steve orders a basket of fries to share and shakes for the table. Strawberry for Abbey, and chocolate for the adults.

At one point, Abbey lifts the straw from the old fashioned shake glass and attempts to spoon the whipped cream into her mouth, consequently dripping the frozen treat all over the front of her sweatshirt. You try not to fuss, even though you’re plagued with the fear that you won't be able to get the stain out of her brand new hoodie. Such is having a five-year-old, you suppose.

Steve was quick to grab the napkins at the far end of the table, surprising you with his reflexes– like he knew the mishap would occur before it actually did. 

As he’s dabbing Abbey’s shirt dry, she studies his hand and asks, “Why don’t you have a wife Mr. H?”

“Abbey!--” You scold through a poorly concealed laugh. Steve barks out a shocked huff of laughter himself.

“How do you know I don’t have a wife?” He asks, looking a little dumbfounded at the suddenly intrusive line of questioning, but amused nonetheless.

“Well, mommy used to wear a ring for daddy, but you don’t wear a ring.” She observes, “Aren’t grownups supposed to be married?”

“Ab–” You grow quickly embarrassed by your child’s lack of a filter and social cues. Again, such is having a five-year-old.

“No, that’s okay,” Steve chuckles, only slightly reassuring you, “I guess I–” he contemplates, choosing his words carefully, “I just haven’t met anyone I want to marry yet,” the only thing giving you solace is the knowledge that he probably deals with children asking him much, much more embarrassing questions, all day long.

“Oh,” Abbey says, doing some of her own contemplation, “that’s okay, Mr. H,” she comforts, like a little therapist, patting his back twice before refocusing her attention back on her milkshake.

You send Steve a look across the table, trying your hardest to convey ‘I’m so sorry my child says the shit she says, forgive me?’ with just your expression. He seems to understand what you’re attempting to get across, because he simply shakes his head and smiles like he’s trying to tell you ‘I spend everyday with her, I get it. Don’t worry about it.’

You spend the next half hour or so swapping your funniest workplace stories with each other.

“So then, we’re in the middle of a quiz right? This kid, he just–” he motions with his hands near his mouth, “projectile vomits all over the desk and the kid sitting in front of him,”

“Oh…” you wince with second-hand disgust, “that’s brutal,”

“I know!” he laughs, “I literally had to evacuate the entire classroom,”

“I feel like I remember Abbey telling me about that, actually,”

At the mention of her, he glances to his side, “Speaking of,” he chuckles.

You follow his eyes to find Abbey slumped over into Steve’s side– completely dead to the world. You can tell she’s asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Steve carefully fishes a twenty dollar bill out of his jeans pocket– careful not to disturb her– and places it on the table underneath a sweaty glass that at one point contained a diet coke.

“Oh, no you don’t have to–” you say, reaching for the bill when he delicately grabs your wrist to stop you from trying to shove it back towards him. His palms are much softer than you anticipated, and the sudden movement of his arm sends a wave of his scent straight up your nose– nearly suffocating you. What a lovely way to go, you think.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to,” he reassures you as he pushes your hand he’s still holding back in your direction. You oblige him, only because you don’t have the energy for a chivalry competition. You make a promise to yourself that if you’re ever fortunate enough to do this with him again, that you’ll foot the bill.

When you try to gently shake Abbey awake, he stops you again, “I got it,” he says, as he hoists Abbey up and carries her bridal style out of the diner and to your little sedan; you wish the waitress a good night as you exit. It’s a dark night outside, no moon or stars to be observed. The navy velvet of the sky is completely blanketed by heavy clouds. It’ll probably snow soon.

You open the rear passenger side door for Steve as he sets Abbey in her seat and fumbles a little bit with the seat belt mechanism. As he’s ducking back out, he rises just a second too early and rams his head on the top of the car with a harsh ‘THWACK!’  You try to stifle a surprised laugh behind the back of your hand as he groans and shuts the door as softly as he can.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” You take a step closer to him as he scratches at the back of his usually perfectly coiffed locks, having lost its usual volume.

“Don’t laugh!” He playfully scolds.

“You’re laughing!” you quickly retort.

“Because you’re laughing!”

Once you’ve calmed a bit– reduced to just quiet giggling– you ask, “Can I look?” With that, he turns to give you a better look at the back of his head.

From this angle, you can unabashedly blush and grin at him and not have to worry about him seeing you. You relish in it for as long as possible, as well as the excuse to touch him, even for a moment.

“How do I look, doc? Am I gonna make it?” He says with a faux grim tone to his voice.

“Well, I’m just the receptionist– but you’re not bleeding, no cracks or contusions, either. I think you’ll be alright,”

You grin when he turns back around to face you again, this time with less space separating you, accounting for how closely you were inspecting his head. You stay like that for a moment too long, giving you just enough time to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations lacking in the sky above you, and how his lashes kiss at the corner of his eyes.

He harshly clears his throat– a nervous habit, you’ve noticed– and looks down at the pavement where you stand, inches from each other.

“I’d better let you get her home, it’s getting late,”

“No yeah– definitely uhm…” you struggle to find your words again, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, “Oh, I uh– I wanted to give you this,” from out of his coat pocket, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you. It must’ve been in his pocket for at least a few hours, maybe even a few days– the ink smudged like he’d been nervously fidgeting with it before he gave it to you.

It was his phone number.

“You know, in case you ever–” he clears his throat again, “in case you ever need anything, or there’s an emergency, or something…” he trails off at the end of his thought like he’s completely regretting the gesture and already trying to figure out a way to back track, but before he can get the chance, you embrace him in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, slightly muffled by the hood of his coat, “I really appreciate everything you do for Abbey,”

He doesn’t mention how he gave the number of his landline to you in case you ever needed anything, he just takes the win for what it is. You have his phone number, and you’re hugging him. The perfect floral scent of your shampoo and whatever perfume you’re wearing flood his senses, and he immediately misses your touch when you pull away.

“Mommy?” Abbey croaks tiredly from the backseat, “Are we going home?”

“Yes, baby, one second,” you smile apologetically at Steve for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “I’m gonna get her to bed.”

“Of course, go,” he says as he ushers you around to the driver's side door. As much as he craves to, he doesn’t open it for you. Maybe another time, he thinks.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say before you pull the door closed.

“Goodnight, drive safe,” he aims his sights for the backseat, “Goodnight, Ab. You did awesome today,”

“Bye, Mr. H,” she waves, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of being everyone’s favorite five-year-old all day.

Steve waits until you’ve pulled out of the parking lot, hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets, before walking to his own car across the parking lot.

–

About halfway home and in between bouts of nodding off, Abbey asks quietly from the backseat, “Can Mr. H be like daddy?”

Startled and slightly confused by the nature of her question, you lock eyes with her through the rearview mirror, “What?”

Even though you fully heard her the first time, she reiterates, “I mean like, because we don’t have a daddy anymore,” she pauses– thinking, “maybe he could come live with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t always work like that, you know?” It breaks your heart to break hers.

“But–” she pouts in that adorable way that she does when she’s trying to lure you into giving her something she wants. Though this time, you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “He said he doesn’t have a wife!”

You can tell she’s too tired to have a productive discussion about this, and frankly– you have not a single idea of how to approach this subject, “Tell you what– how about we talk about it tomorrow when you wake up, yeah?” You try to reason, but secretly hoping she’s too drowsy to remember this conversation in the morning.

Mid-yawn she responds, “Okay…” clearly losing her battle with the hypnotic hum of the engine lulling her softly back to sleep.

–

At well past eleven o’clock, you find yourself sinking into the cushions of your thrifted sofa, staring at the faded piece of paper with Steve’s phone number scrawled on it so hard you thought it might burst into flames and disintegrate.

The drone of black and white reruns playing on the television was your only reprieve from the rushing spiral of your rumination, as you fought the urge to call Steve and ask what counted as ‘an emergency or…something.’

You wondered, against your better judgement, what you’d be interrupting if you gave into your temptation. You wonder if he, too, is lying restless somewhere in his house just like you were– if he has someone there to keep him company, and maybe you’d gotten this all wrong. You wonder if his walls are filled to the brim with photos of his life before Maine, and what brought him here in the first place. You wonder if he sleeps with the fan on or off.

You wonder if you should even be feeling this way at all.

But somewhere, in a mostly empty house on Ashburton street, Steve is staring at the white expanse of his popcorn ceiling of his bedroom pondering identical thoughts about you.

divider by @/saradika-graphics @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @tv-girllover07 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[flightlessribbons]

I take every single opportunity to project my sensory issues/neurodivergence on every character with perpetual headphones- Nino included.

Some headcanons about the main 5 and their persona changes under the cut!

Each protag has something that changes when they're in either one of their personas.

The main two's are obvious and fairly cloae to canon but the other three are a little bit different since they pertain a lot to this AU'S headcanons.

- Marinette's biggest is her confidence and decision making that doesnt always come through in her civilian form.

-Adrien's is his carefree attitude and agency that he doesn't have in his everyday life.

The more headcanony ones:

- Alya is always mediating between her older sister, parents, and little siblings. With her older sister and dad butting heads a lot, and the twins being the pranksters they are, Alya's patient and calm front to the situations helps keep everything under control. Constantly emotionally aware and trying to monitor everyone's moods, but doesn't abuse the influence she has in her family. D O E S however manipulate the FUCK out of her enemies when transformed. Makes the trickster part of her miraculous proud.

Also does gentle parent her teammates when there's a dispute. Only Carapace has noticed.

- Chloe in this AU is like Jane Austen's "Emma": constantly helping her dad keep things in order. Has been the one honestly running the hotel business since she was 10, at least in every aspect but on paper. She sees her dad and his bouts of depression, and tries her best to ease his workload at home at least. She's not perfect, but she's trying. As class president, she tries to please everyone and lead with a firm, but fair, hand. In comparison to the busy mayor's daughter who's tried her best to clean up her image and ebb her temper, Queen Bee is a harsh critic. Chloe feels her emotions much more freely when transformed, and is the most willing of her teammates to do the dirty work that needs to get done.

- Nino's grew up entertaining his brother while their mom would work late, taking on a more upbeat attitude longer than he would actually be comfortable with. This behavior moved into school too, where he got into habit of pushing his social battery past what it should while trying to make everyone comfortable. Doesn't mask as much with the class and his main friend group, and always puts his headphones on as a "do not disturb sign" that everyone in class respects. Carapace is the complete opposite. Since there's no need for a social buffer between the heroes and Carapace was the last to join and was welcomed warmly- Nino stays mute/speaking when necessary and has his gear help buffer his senses. Incredibly observant since he's not draining himself, and is the best defense and tank the team could ask for.

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Car Accidents

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 600 ish?

Warnings: car accidents, injuries, dad!simon, mom!reader, ambulances

Summary: When your eldest daughter's life is threatened, what will Simon do?

Simon liked James. He treated Emma well. He was polite. He came from a good single mother and he was kind. 

The boy was like him. 

A teenage boy stood at Simon’s door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. Emma had run down to answer the door the moment the doorbell rang. Simon had himself leaning against the stairs to make himself seem bigger. Even though he’s huge. 

“James!” Emma throws her arms around him. Simon tenses. You head over to the door, greeting the young boy.

That's when Simon realises the flowers in his hands for you, not Emma. He softens. James introduces himself, shaking his hand. Simon smiles, “Nice t’ meet ya. Keep ‘er safe. Be home by 10.”

***

Simon woke to his phone, not on silent, playing his basic ringtone. He groans, praying it didn’t wake you. When he feels your hand shove him, he knows it did. He reaches over, seeing James’ name on his screen. He picks it up, “What do ya want at this time of night?”

“Mr. Riley?”

“Kid, I’ve told ya. ‘S Simon.”

“Umm…I…Emma and I were at the movies and we were on our way to get ice cream, but this drunk driver hit us and totalled my car and Emma’s not waking up and I’m stuck in the car and-”

“Kid, kid, slow down. Where are ya?”

“50th ave…”

“Did ya call 911?”

“Yes…before I called you.”

“Okay, stay there. Try no’ to move. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…please hurry…”

Simon hangs up, getting out of bed. Your hand pulls him back into bed. “What happened?”

“Dove and James got into an accident. I’m gone go take care of them,” he presses a kiss to your cheek before heading into the closet. 

“Wait, what? I’m coming with you!”

“No, lovie, you stay here, ‘kay?”

“I”m coming. That’s my daughter too.”

“Lovie…”

“Simon.”

“Fine, get ya clothes on.”

***

Simon pulls over, recognizing one of the cars in the wreck. James’. 

The boy sits leaning against it, his head in his hands. You run over, taking him into your arms. “Are you okay? Where’s Em? Is she okay?”

“She woke up a few minutes ago. The ambulance is checking on her. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Riley.”

“Kid, ya got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Simon says, still looking around to spot Emma.

“I shouldn’t have taken her out so late…”

“KId, listen to me, it’s not ya fault.”

“But-”

“It’s not. Now, what ambulance did they take Dove to?”

James points to the one where she is. Simon walks towards the truck while you take James’ hand. “Did you call your mom?”

“No, she’d kill me if she had to leave work for something this dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re hurt.” 

“She won’t come anyways.” 

“He can come home with us. Spend the night with Dove,” Simon interrupts, hearing the conversation you two were having. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smile at Simon. He heads over to Emma, where she holds an icepack to her head. Her eyes spot her father and she lights up, falling towards him and into his arms. 

James stands behind Simon, a guilty look on his face. “Em?”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” Emma sighs. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m fine. I promise.” 

Simon caresses her head, holding her tightly against him. “‘ts nobodys faul’. We’re gone go home. Both o’ ya gonna be fine.”

James looks down at his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Ri-Simon…”

Simon smiles internally. 

He won’t ever admit it but he has 3 sons now.

[lovegalor333]

Warm December

part three of paigemas

paige bueckers x reader

paige surprises you by staying in storrs for christmas so you’re not alone

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you. It came with a lot of bad memories since your mom died and home was the last place you wanted to be so the decision to stay in Storrs was an easy one. Your family were unbothered and didn’t have much to say when you broke the news. Your stepmom said she would save money not having to buy you gifts and your dad just grunted down the phone. A few years ago, this would have probably made you cry but you were used to your parents attitude now and you were grateful you went to college so far away from home.

It was December 21st and you had waved your roommates goodbye, cars full with wrapped presents and snacks you had packed for them. They both drove off in the falling snow, with Christmas music blasting from their speakers. Both girls tried to get you to go home with them, insisting their families would be happy to have an extra guest at their table but you weren’t one to impose and besides, you had a long list of books you wanted to read. The thought of bunkering down in your cosy apartment, spiced candles lit, a mug of hot tea in your hand and getting lost in a romance novel appealed to you more than you’d like to admit.

Before meeting your girlfriend, you lived vicariously through the relationships you read about. Fantasising about a love like Elizabeth Bennets and Mr Darcys. After being single your whole life, you were starting to believe that maybe love like that was entirely fictional and then along came Paige. Six foot tall, blonde, blue eyes and pure muscle. You and Paige had the most typical friends to lovers timeline. Having met through mutual friends, you quickly bonded over your Midwest roots and you both found yourselves wanting to spend more and more time together. You were both wildly oblivious to each other’s pining and it took one too many shots and a very calculated game of spin the bottle (thanks Azzi) for you to finally realise that you were on the same page.

Speaking of your girlfriend, she had also travelled home today. You said goodbye with tears in your eyes and one final kiss. “I’ll FaceTime you everyday.” Paige had said, “I want to know what happens at the end of Emma.” Paige loved listening to you talk about your current read, she insisted she cared about the storyline but with the way she looked at you, eyes soft and a small smile on her lips, you knew you could say absolutely anything and she’d listen intently.

The evening was drawing in and you had turned off all the big lights, your apartment lit by fairy lights and candles alone. The Christmas tree in the corner of the room glowed warmly making the space feel like a cosy grotto. The whole place smelled like cinnamon and with your Christmas playlist softly emitting from your Alexa, it softened the blow that you’d be alone at this time of year.

A knock on your apartment door broke through your thoughts and you imagined it was your Post Mates order so you carefully placed your book mark inbetween the pages you were currently reading and went to answer the door. Your door step was empty, nothing or nobody was there and you furrowed your brow in confusion and peeked your head around the door to see who knocked.

It took you a few seconds to process what you saw, “Paige! What are you doing here?” You gasp, seeing your girlfriend, body pressed against the wall, a huge cheesy grin on her face and a red santa hat perched on her head, “Surprise, my love.”

“You’re meant to be on a plane right now!” You say as she pulls you into a hug. Paiges hugs were hands down your favourite thing in this whole world. The way her arms snaked around your waist and squeezed you tight, the way her head nuzzled into your neck as she pressed light kisses to your skin. Your nostrils were filled with her scent, a scent you had prepared yourself to not smell for a few weeks and you breathed in deeply taking in as much of it as you could.

“I’m meant to be right here.” Paige says walking back into your apartment with one arm still wrapped around your waist.

“What are you talking about? I thought you were going back to Minnesota.”

“I was. And then I thought about it. Go there where I’ll just get grilled by my family about shit I cannot be bothered to explain or stay here. With you. Where we can be with each other all day and night. Where I can make you tea while you read and you can cook while…I watch because God knows I’ll burn the place down.” Paige tucks your hair behind your ear and her eyes skim over your face, “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone did you?” She asks, her thumb gently stroking your cheek.

“I don’t know. Kinda. But it’s normal, everyone goes home. I wouldn’t have minded.” You mumble looking into Paiges eyes. You wouldn’t have resented Paige for going home for the holidays, it wasn’t her fault your family didn’t know how to act. “You know I love you, right? Like a lot. And Christmas is about being with the people you love. Now come and sit on Santas lap and tell me what’s on your list.” Paige smirked as she pulled you to the couch, positioning you on her lap.

You giggled as Paige did her best Santa impression. Voice deep and gravelly, “Have you been a good girl this year?” You nod playing into her game, “Very good.”

Paige raised a brow, breaking character, her usual accent back, “Good girls arch their back, ass up?” You gasped, lightly slapping her arm, “Paige! Santa would not say that!”

“Oh my bad- Ho ho ho! What’s on your Christmas list?” She regained composure, putting on her Santa voice once again, holding her stomach as she ho’d, really getting into character.

“Didn’t make a list. Everything I need is all right here.” You smile, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your girlfriends lips. “I love you, Paige.” “I love you too.”

The rest of your night was spent cuddled into Paige on your couch. The Christmas lights around your dim apartment twinkled silently as you watched your favourite festive movie - The Holiday. Paige traced delicate shapes into your back and every now and then you would catch her staring at you. The light from the television illuminating her perfect features. She would press soft kisses to your head when a romantic scene played and when you found yourself sniffling as the young characters on screen laid in their fort and spoke about their mom who had passed away, Paige slipped her hand into yours and squeezed it tightly.

The holiday season was a weird and complicated time for you but like always Paige was there to make it less weird and less complicated and for that, you could only let a tear slip out of your eye. Grateful for the girl next to you and her deep, unapologetic love.

two posts in an hour so im back on track 🙂‍↕️ happy christmas eve eve baddies 💋

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @sierrale8ne @avvwritesstufff @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

[surftrips]

Maybe you could do single dad jj maybank he’s in college and has to do a project with the reader and has to bring the baby with them and they bond and start to hang out a lot then they start to date also maybe she’s a single mom I feel like that would be like a unique thing

thank you so much for this request! i hope you don't mind that i switched it up a bit (and got carried away lol) but reader is the single mom here and her and jj have known each other their whole lives :)

when you know, you know

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: y/n needs a babysitter and jj is the only person available.

word count: 3.5k

"Okay, I understand. Thanks, anyway," you sighed, running your hands through your hair and hanging up the phone. Your babysitter had just canceled on you, and the timing could not have been worse. 

You had been planning this night for months. Between your classes, a part-time job, and taking care of your 2-year-old Margo, it was nearly impossible to schedule anything. But you desperately needed a night out and your friend Emma had so kindly offered to set you up on a blind date. 

You scrolled through your contacts list, looking for anyone that was sober on a Friday night, a seemingly impossible task. Glancing at the time, you realized that you only had an hour left to find a babysitter and get ready. 

As panic set in, you received a text from the P4L groupchat. 

JJ: Wtw tonight?

Not now JJ, you thought. 

Y/N: Trying to find a babysitter, mine just canceled :/

Kie: Oh no, Y/N!! I'm so sorry :(

Cleo: Sorry babes, I totally wouldd but I already lost count of how many drnks I've had 2nite xxx

JJ: Wait, you guys went out already?

Sarah: JJ, we told you it's a girls night.

JJ: In that case, Y/N, I'll watch Margo! 

Absolutely not, was your first thought. JJ Maybank was probably the last person you wanted to take care of your child, he was practically one himself. 

Besides, since you had Margo, he was always acting weird around you. Before, you two would hang out all the time, but now he only saw you if there was another person there as a buffer. He hardly visited or called, but you were so preoccupied with raising a baby on your own that you hadn't had a chance to talk to him about it. 

In the beginning, people assumed it was his baby you were pregnant with, but you never crossed that line because your friendship meant the world to each other. He was the first person you told when you found out you were going to be a mother, and you remember how excited he was for you. It was hard to believe how distant he had become, and you wondered why he had volunteered himself tonight. 

You assessed the situation: you hadn't gone out in nearly two years, and who knew when the next opportunity would be? You sighed, hardly believing the words you were about to type on your phone. 

Y/N: Ok. How soon can you be here? 

Y/N: You better be sober, JJ. 

You turned your phone off before the others could protest, knowing that half of them were drunk anyway. 

"Uncle JJ is going to come over and watch you tonight, okay? Mommy is going to be gone for just a few hours," you said to your daughter, picking her up and placing her in your eye line so you could do your makeup.

"Jay Jay?" she repeated. 

"Yes, honey," you smiled, trying to reassure her, or yourself. Out of all the pogues, Kiara and Sarah babysat Margo the most. She had probably only met JJ a handful of times and you worried about how well she would do with him alone. 

As if he could read your mind, your phone began ringing and you looked over to see his face on your screen.

"JJ, please don't tell me you're canceling too."

"What? Oh, no, it's not that. I was just wondering if you needed me to bring anything for Margo?" 

"Oh," you relaxed. "Hmmm, I think we have everything we need here. But thank you for asking, JJ."

"Of course," you could hear him smiling on the other line. "You know, thanks for letting me watch Margo. I've been meaning to visit her more." 

"JJ, you know you're weren't my first choice," you teased. "But yeah, of course. Thanks, I owe you." 

You hung up the phone, thoughts from earlier creeping back into your mind. You always assumed that the baby scared JJ away, but sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more going on. 

However, now was not the time for you to be thinking about this, considering that you now had 30 minutes left until your date showed up and you had yet to pick out a dress.

"Hmmmm, let's see. Any suggestions, Margo?" you asked your daughter, combing through your closet for something appropriate. You settled on a short black dress with a boat neck, and black knee high boots to go along with it. 

"What do we think, sweetie?" you smiled at Margo.

"Pretty!" she clapped her small hands together. 

"Why, thank you, baby. Come on, let's go see if Uncle JJ is here yet," you picked her up and checked your phone for any notifications. 

Blind Date: Be there in 5! :)

Crap, you thought. Where is JJ? 

You shot back a confirmation for your date and looked out the window for any sign of JJ. You weren't sure if he was biking over or he had borrowed the Twinkie, but there was no sign of anyone outside. 

Growing anxious, you gathered Margo's favorite toys and books into the living room and tidied up your apartment to pass the time. 

Exactly 5 minutes later, the doorbell rang. You smoothed down your dress and checked your hair in the mirror one last time. Putting on your best smile, you went to open the door. 

"Hi–" you started. "Oh, it's you." 

"Come on, that's what I get for dropping everything and saving your ass?" JJ responded. 

"Sorry, weren't you the one with no plans on a Friday?" 

"You know, I can just turn around right now-" 

"Stop!" you pleaded. "Okay, sorry, I've been anxious about this all day and I just want to get back to Margo as fast as I can." 

"Relax, Y/N. I'm here now," he took in your appearance. "You look great, by the way." 

The last time he saw you remotely dressed up like this was prom night. 

You couldn't help but blush, looking around for Margo to hide your face. "Margo, look who it is!" 

"Jay Jay!" she babbled. 

"Oh my god, she knows my name!" JJ replied, looking a little perplexed. 

"You know what, I'm surprised too considering she's only met you, like, four times," you said. 

"Alright, you're no fun," he looked at you as you traded your daughter over to his arms. "Miss Margo and I here are going to have the time of our lives. Aren't we?" 

He tickled her, causing her to giggle. She seemed so comfortable in his arms, you wondered why you were ever worried in the first place. 

"Thanks again for doing this, I know we haven't talked in a while-" you started. 

"So, where's the lucky guy?" he interrupted you. 

"Uhh," you looked over at the clock. "He said he would be here by now." 

"Late to the first date? That's a red flag, Y/N." 

"As if you're not a walking red flag, JJ. What did you get here on? Your bike?"

"Hey! I refurbished that bike all on my own! It takes a lot of skill to do that."

Just then, the doorbell rang. You rushed to open the door, a smile plastered on your face again. 

"Hey! You must be Emma's friend! I'm Tom." he greeted you with a hug and a bouquet of flowers. "I'm sorry for being late, I went to get these flowers for you and was distracted by the girl scouts selling cookies outside. I had to support them, you know?" 

"Oh, no worries! Yes, how can you say no to them?" you laughed softly. You took the flowers from him and went to place them on the table closest to you, beckoning him to come in.

"Tom, this is one of my friends, JJ. He's babysitting my daughter, Margo, while we're gone," you said.

"Ah! What a pleasure," Tom went over to shake JJ's hand and politely wave at your daughter. "I promise not to keep your mom out too late tonight." 

"That's right, need her back before midnight," JJ remarked.

You playfully pushed him in response, grabbing your keys. "Alright, you have my number so please call me if you need anything. Bye Margo, mommy loves you!" 

With that, you and Tom headed outside and into his car. 

On the drive over to the restaurant, you learned that Tom was a psychologist, he liked to cook, and reality TV shows were his guilty pleasure. At the restaurant, which was a higher-end place near the water, he pulled out your chair for you. 

"I hope this place is okay, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked so I thought somewhere nicer would be safe," he said. 

"Oh, this is perfect. Don't even worry about it," you smiled. "I haven't had a proper night out in so long, I wouldn't have minded if you took me to a burger joint." 

He laughed, "Margo is adorable, by the way. How old is she?"

"She's 2," you said. Then, feeling the need to clarify, "I had her when I was 20, at the beginning of my junior year in college."

"I see, how was that? How did you manage classes?" You were surprised at his demeanor, half-expecting him to judge you or run in the opposite direction any second now, but his inquisition was genuine.

"Well, I could still go to classes during the first trimester, but it got more difficult after that so I took a leave of absence. I'm taking night classes now because I work in the mornings." 

"Oh nice, what degree are you going for?"

"English, I want to be a teacher," you explained.

"My mom was a teacher," he smiled. "What age do you want to teach?"

"Oh no way! I want to teach elementary school kids. Everyone always tells me how hard it will be, but raising Margo... I don't love anything more than that." 

"That's really sweet, are you close with your family?"

You paused, trying to figure out how to answer the question. "Depends on who you consider my family, I guess," you laughed awkwardly. "I'm not close with my parents, but my friends? Those are the most important people in my life." 

He smiled, "I understand. I'm glad you have a support system, being a single mother can be hard." 

"Yeah, I'm super grateful. Actually, my babysitter for tonight canceled last-minute and JJ came to the rescue. I don't know what I would've done without him." 

Tom's smile faltered for an unnoticeable second. "How long have you known him for?"

"JJ? My whole life, probably. I can't imagine a time when he wasn't by my side. He was there for me throughout my entire pregnancy, but after..." you trailed off.

"After...?"

"Afterwards," you hesitated, not wanting to bad-mouth your friend. "I guess he started to distance himself more, I think Margo scared him away honestly."

"You think it was Margo and nothing else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean," he sighed. "Do you think there could be any other reason why he would be so supportive of you before and not after you had Margo?" 

"I-I'm not sure. I haven't had much time to think about it, I guess."

"You want my opinion?" Tom asked. You searched his face for any sign of spitefulness, but came up empty. 

"I saw the way he looked at you and Margo, earlier. That boy is not scared of either of you. In fact, all I saw was love. Did you ever think he’s grappling with those feelings?” 

"His feelings? For me?" It was not the first time you thought about it, but it was the first time you heard it verbalized. 

"Yes, I know I sound crazy, but seriously, Y/N, what other reason could there be to explain his behavior?"

You racked your brain for all the possible explanations. Tom had a point, if JJ had feelings for you at some point in your friendship, or still does, he might feel the need to distance himself to protect you. 

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I told you, I'm a psychologist. I notice these things," he smiled.

"Is this how all of your first dates go?" you laughed.

"Not all of them, but I’ll admit, a few are like this. But tell me, am I wrong to assume there was something more going on between you two before you got pregnant?"

You sighed, "No, you're not wrong. Our feelings for each other were a truth that neither of us wanted to confront. We were young, we didn't want to be tied down, it was college. But he was always there, by my side, through everything. Of course, I loved him." 

"Well, there you go. There's your answer." 

Tom dropped you off around midnight. You assured him that there was no need to walk you to your door, you both knew that you needed to have a conversation with JJ.

"Thank you again for tonight, we seriously need to meet up again," you said, before shutting your door.

"Absolutely, I'll give you the address to my office," he joked.

You turned the key into your door as quietly as possible, in case JJ was also asleep with Margo. Inside, the lights were off and you pulled out your phone flashlight to search for him. 

You went into Margo's room first, seeing that she was fast asleep in her crib. "Hi baby," you whispered. "Where's Uncle JJ?" 

After making sure she was tucked in properly, you turned to go into your bedroom. Sure enough, there was JJ, fast asleep in your bed. 

You couldn't help but smile, recalling memories from high school when you two would have sleepovers. Being sure to keep quiet, you changed into your pajamas and got ready for bed.

Trying your best to not wake up JJ, you pulled open the blanket on your side of the bed and slipped in next to him. 

"Goodnight, JJ," you whispered. 

—

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes in the kitchen. For a second, you weren't sure you were even in your apartment, remembering that you live alone with Margo and surely, you weren't asleep long enough for her to know her way around the kitchen.

But then you remembered that JJ was babysitting last night and had fallen asleep in your bed before you got home. 

After a long stretch, you got up and went into the kitchen.

"There she is, good morning pretty," JJ smiled at you. 

"Morning... When did you learn how to cook?" you questioned.

"What do you mean? I've always known how to make pancakes."

"Okay, that is just a straight up lie. In high school you would have chips for breakfast."

JJ put his hand to his chest, taking mock offense. "If you must know, I started teaching myself how to cook last year when I moved off-campus." 

"Wow, I must say, I am impressed, Mr. Maybank."

"Please, that's my father. You can call me JJ," he said, causing you both to laugh. 

Were his eyes always this blue? You thought, as you admired his features in the morning light. 

After a moment, you broke the silence. "Uh- I better go check on Margo. How was she last night, by the way?"

"Oh, amazing. Best kid ever." 

"Really? She didn't give you a hard time at all?"

"Nope, must have remembered me from when she was in the womb."

You smiled, turning around to your daughter's room.

Sure enough, Margo was sleeping like the baby she was. You checked the clock, she wouldn't be up for at least another hour.

"Margo's still in one piece?" JJ asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"Yes, somehow,” you mused. 

"Good, want to try these pancakes now?"

"Yes, please, I'm starving," you sat down across from JJ.

"Starving? Your date didn't feed you last night?"

"Very funny, if you want to know about my date, you can just ask." 

"Okay, how was your date?" he relented. 

"He's a psychologist." 

"Cool, anything else?" JJ looked slightly confused. 

"He was very normal and nice," you added.

“I would hope so.”

“Yes, and he likes to cook too.”

“That’s great, how was the date itself?”

“Oh the date itself…” you trailed off. 

"Y/N, why are you acting weird?"

"Weird? Me? I'm just telling you about my date." 

"You're talking about him like he's your therapist."

"Well, in a way, it was like a therapy session."

"So the date went bad?"

"No, it was really nice." 

JJ looked around the kitchen, "Did I accidentally put something in the pancake batter to make you act like this or...?" 

"These are great, by the way," you said, pointing to the pancakes with your fork.

"Thanks, but can we get back to the date?" 

"Oh, yeah, well, basically," you started. 

"Y/N." JJ was rarely ever serious, but he was starting to look concerned with you. 

"Okay, fine. It started off really well, we got to know each other. Then, he was asking about Margo and my family, and I told him about my parents, you know. Then he asked about you, and I told him I've known you forever, but after Margo, you started distancing yourself and we haven't seen or talked to each other in a while, and then-" you rambled. 

"Then what?"

"And then, he told me, or rather he made me realize, that maybe we need to address the feelings we may or may not have had for each other before I got pregnant," you finished in a rush.

JJ was silent, you weren't sure if the expression on his face was scared or bemused. 

"JJ, please say something." 

"Was that all?"

"More or less."

He sighed, "Y/N, I think one of the reasons why our friendship worked so well was because we both knew that at any moment, we could pursue something more, but we didn't. We both knew that doing that would ruin our friendship, something we've had for nearly twenty years. I thought college was going to be four years of partying and distractions, but instead, I had to face reality”

“Distractions?”

“Everyone that wasn’t you was a distraction, in case that wasn’t clear.”

“Uh, no. It wasn't, actually. JJ, you kept telling me you were trying to meet ‘the one!’” 

“Well, I was lying! Okay? You were always the one for me. I just didn’t feel like I was the one for you. So I was stupid and I decided we would be better off as friends, but when you got pregnant…” 

“When I got pregnant…?”

“When you told me about Margo, I panicked. I knew you were strong enough to do this on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to. I told myself that I was going to be there for you every step of the way, and I was, until you gave birth. I saw Margo for the first time, and I-I’m sorry. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Do what, JJ? You know I never needed you to be her father.” 

“I know, I know. I saw her and I couldn’t imagine hurting her. I didn’t want her to know me, because to know me is to be disappointed by me,” he sighed.

“JJ,” you stood up now to wrap your arms around him. “Are you kidding me? I was never, never disappointed by you. I was just worried, babe, that’s all. You stopped talking to me after that.” 

JJ allowed himself to fall into your arms. “I’m sorry, it just felt like too much at the time. I loved- love you and Margo so much, that I didn’t know what to do with all of it. So I thought it was best to give you some space, until I was better.”

You chuckled, “Is that why you taught yourself how to cook?”

“Stop, I was actually starving and had no choice.”

“And are you better now?”

“When I heard you were going on a date, do you want to know what I thought?”

“What?”

“I thought, I let her go again. I let you go a million times in college, and here I am, letting you go again.” 

When you didn’t say anything, he continued, “You’re the one for me, Y/N. I came over here tonight to show you that. I’m ready for whatever this is going to be, whatever this friendship evolves into. I spent too much time denying the truth, and I think you have too.” 

There were not enough words to describe how you were feeling, so you leaned in to kiss your best friend. JJ held your face with such gentleness, you wondered if this was all in your imagination. 

Eventually, you pulled away. “I’m done lying, to myself and to each other. This is real, yes?” you asked.

“Yes, I love you, really.”

“I love you too, Maybank.” 

You leaned in for a second time, but not before you heard the familiar cries of Margo in the other room. 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he smiled with that boyish grin of his that you loved so much. That you have always loved. 

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Gravity Falls Headcanons

[maybe acceptable to change]

Dipper Pines

Has autism

Has chewelry for when he’s in deep thought, which is better than chewing his pens

Is an ally

Gets glasses

Has gained two more friends around his age, Twig Westwood and Lorelei ‘Lorie’ Flussmann

Has scarring from the summer of 2012

Has participated in marching band

Plans to pursue journalism

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

Mabel Pines

Is pan

Has ADHD

Doesn’t have a single fashion ‘style’, opting to change it frequently (ex. She’s goth one day and bohemian the next day and retro the next day)

Has started using hair chalk to go with her outfits

Will have her braces removed, but start wearing a retainer

Has a knack for alchemy and magic and is currently under the tutelage of a witch

Continues with her Guide to Life videos and becomes a popular WebTuber

She does commissions for her handmade bracelets and necklaces and anything knitting/crocheting related

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

Stan Pines

Probably the most ‘normal’ of the Pines twins

Is bisexual

Has claustrophobia

Is dyslexic

Suffers from depression and PTSD

Is the better cook compared to Ford

Would reclaim his mullet while out at sea

Needs a moment to let his mind settle after waking up, a side effect of the memory gun

Is fluent in Spanish, and passively understand French and Portuguese (but can’t speak fluently)

He used be part of a biker gang, the same one with Jimmy Snakes

With Ford’s permission, he gave Soos the entire Shack, house and all

With money from selling treasure, Stan has Dan build a new cabin house for the family

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

Ford Pines

AuDHD

Major Insomniac

An AroAce Nonbinary Man!

Suffers from c-PTSD, depression, and great guilt

Does have a feral side to him

Has a fear of snakes, but loves cats (imagine him meeting a tatzelwurm)

Eerily quiet while asleep

Grows out his hair to his shoulder blades. Initially has plans to cut it, but Mabel likes this long.

Has a cybernetic spine; its what caused his eyes to turn from brown to blue; there are other changes.

He probably has other implants, though one is a translator

He doesn’t like being touched, especially around his wrists and neck

Used to be fairly chubby until his fallout with Bill, which caused him to lose weight because of stress. Becomes malnourished while dimension hopping. Still currently recovering.

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

Soos Ramirez

Becomes a let’s player on his days off, his WebTube channel is called ‘Let’sDoodIt!’. Melody would occasionally appear in it.

Soos, along with Melody and his Abuelita, has moved into the Shack

For the Stans’ 59th birthday, Soos had gifted Stan his adoption papers and Stan, without missing a beat, signs it

Has a lot of weird dreams, one of them of him and Stan being frogs and the latter owning a wax museum

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

Wendy Corduroy

Her trapper hat used to belong to her mother

Got super depressed over her mom disappearing

Has a new friend named Seiko Habutai, who would eventually become her girlfriend

Bisexual

Joins Ford as his assistant when able

Owns a bat-ax, built by McGucket

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

Fiddleford McGucket

Has recovered a lot: Wears a brace to fix his posture, takes it off for showers and sleep, received dental implants (still has his golden tooth), his hair has grown back and regained some color (gray but still), but unfortunately had to get his beard and mustache shaved off (it was a mess! You know the man did not wash that thing!)

Uses a cane with a fritz handle

Is reconnecting with his ex-wife, Emma May

Still has his former raccoon wife, but as a pet, June

Has started his own electronics company, McGucket & Son’s Lab

Would occasionally have minor relapses before returning to his senses on his own

Have started watching anime, courtesy of Soos, and alot of them inspired some of his creations

Has future apprentices in Candy Chiu and a Molly Westwood

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

Pacifica Northwest

Is in her ‘rebellious’ phase, according to her parents

Starts hanging out with Candy and Grenda

Still keeps in touch with Archibald’s spirit, who has followed the Northwests to their new house

Plans to golf professionally, but likes to play casually, especially with Mabel

Also has an affinity for magic and has the same witch teacher as Mabel

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

Robbie Valentino

Continues to pursue his band career

Has a new best friend in an anthropomorphic wolf named Yue, who joins his band

Is more annoyed with his parents’ during funerals (thanks, Jacky ^^)

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

Gideon Gleeful

Was always an intelligent kid

Would skip a couple of grades upon finishing elementary school

He knows the full extent of Ford’s torture, who promised him not to say a word

Hates dancing and will decline when offered

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

Bill Cipher (post-Theraprism; if he manages to get released)

Would gain a cat-like appearance once he could reincarnate

Would somehow be put under the custody of the Pines family

Has lost most of his powers, can now only levitate himself and enter dreams

More subdue and standoffish, but still has his sick sense of humor and trickster attitude

Became somewhat of a tsundere

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

Miscellaneous

People did move out Gravity Falls because of the trauma caused by Weirdmageddon

The ‘Never Mind All That’ Act was abolished three months after creation

There is a ‘Midnight Market’, where the Abnormal creatures have a flea market in town square in the middle of the night

During spooky events, such as Halloween and Summerween, and ‘nerd’ conventions, abnormal species are able to freely show themselves to ‘normies’

Manotaurs has started to work for the Corduroys

[peachhoneii]

We need more content about Tate reacting to post-finale Fiddauthor. Because as much as we love them, that cannot be easy for Tate. His dad abandoned the family for Ford. He neglected the family to support Ford. His subsequent addiction was collateral damage from Ford’s negligence and pride. Fiddleford prioritized Ford over his wife and son and in later years, he still chooses Ford.

Fiddleford chose this life. He chose to follow Ford, and when he could’ve left, he chose a weak man’s way out rather than simply leaving the town or stopping Ford. Hirsch himself said Fidds’ biggest weakness is weakness. He chose to damage his brain to escape the horrors of the present.

Tate isn’t a bad guy. He’s far too stoic to make a ruckus in a scenario where Ford and Fidds reconcile romantically. He cherishes his dad too because why else he’d go all the way to Gravity Falls? But to have Ford and Fidds in a romantic relationship after the shitstorm they left in their wake aka Tate’s family is insulting.

It makes the family drama all the more interesting when you write it down. Tate loves his mom. Emma May did the best she could alone. People sleep on the fact she was effectively a single mother while her husband abandoned her for his not-boyfriend din Oregon. It was the early 80s. While he loves his dad too and wants him to be happy, seeing him be happy with a man responsible for so much pain in their family stings a little. McGucket wouldn’t risk Tate like that, not this time.

How do you reconcile with that? How do you not feel angry about it? Fan content rarely touches on this aspect of the ship, if ever, and I wish they did bc I’m too lazy to try. Because there's no way I can see this relationship lasting if Ford and Fiddleford don't confront that aspect.

In Journal 3, Ford says, "We also talked about our family members -- and how his hand turned their backs on him when he lost his mind." Bruh. Sure, Ford immediately encourages Fiddleford to seek them out to make amends, but this isn't a case of them "turning their backs on him." He built a murder bot when his wife understandably divorced him, and Ford, Fiddleford left them first. He abandoned them for you.

Be for real, Stanford Filbrick Pines.

[thelastairsimblr]

Family Pack #4

I’m happy to share some sims with you all today! In this post, you’ll find 9 households (35 sims total), each with their own stories and biographies. All of these sims have additional Everyday outfits, skills, bonus traits, Likes and Dislikes, Turn Ons and Turn Offs, sexual orientations, pronouns, family dynamics, and Lifestyles. You can find them all on the gallery under my Origin ID: TheLastAirSimmer or in the tray files linked under the cut! As always, feel free to tag me if you end up using them.

Abreu

A respected food critic, Maria’s opinion is highly valued by all as the towns’ baked good connoisseur. Her husband Joaquin, a renowned pianist, is no exception; he worships the ground she walks on. Together, they project their creative outlooks onto their sons. Santiago, the eldest and a romantic, has the full support of his parents and wants to become a professional wedding photographer. Even though young Rémy feels he didn’t inherit his parents’ imagination, he still wants to make them proud.

Monaghan

As young parents, Stefan and Marianne sacrificed a lot. Stefan became a cop to support his family, but still gets caught up trying to relive his youth. Marianne longs for the day that she can quit her job at the local diner and become a singer. Both are worried that their burnout of a son Zack sets a bad example for the other boys. Soren just wants to play videogames all day while Tatum and Aria constantly argue. Meanwhile, poor attention seeking Hunter is at risk of falling through the cracks.

Larson

Quite the jazz singer in his day, Clive is desperate to find ways to stay relevant in the ever-changing music scene. Fiona, longing for the authentic soul who serenaded her years ago, knows she can inspire him again; she’s stood by him through a lot. But until then, you can find the melancholy art critic drinking to yesteryear at the bar. Jade dropped out of college to pursue a career in social media (much to Fiona’s discontent) while Candice is following the artistic path her parents paved.

Hollifield

As a teen, Whitney’s future looked bright. But she forfeited a lot of opportunities to pursue a whirlwind romance with a boy who had a dangerous edge. They were happy for a time, but it didn’t last and the only thing she kept from that relationship was her daughter Emma. She now works a lowly job in fast food while taking classes at Britechester, hoping to find a career in social media. Her days are busier as a working single mom, but Emma keeps herself entertained by befriending her neighbors.

Catton

Following the loss of her son to avoidable circumstances, Dottie found herself in the care of his two children. Filled with regret for not doing more for her son, the college professor watches the kids like a hawk! She’s keen on using her connections to better their lives. Temperamental Owen does well to make her proud with his grades, but he has an artsy side that he only shares with those closest to him. His little sister Bonnie would rather spend time making friends than studying though.

Qian

After founding a groundbreaking app, Shirong found a place among the company of the rich and powerful. His charming wife Meifing, quite the schmoozer at elite parties, is constantly looking for funding for her next big venture (while also being the go-to-girl for all the neighborhood gossip). Nuo chose to move home after grad school to save money, but is ready to leave and start her own law firm. Her younger brother Haoyu adds to her restlessness by barraging her with his antics.

Sullivan

Atticus’ dad Clifford, a retired veteran, supported his sons’ musical dreams fully, having raised him alone after his wife died. While roaming the world, Atticus met Elisa; a fashion guru with a fiery disposition. The pair had three children and Clifford moved in to help with the newborn. Like her dad, Lydia also wants to be an artist (whether if it’s for her love for acting or a desire to be in the spotlight remains to be seen) while Malicia, afraid of being unseen, finds relief in her friends.

Kingsley-Ramirez

Jaime and Paxton met/moved in together before they could actually get to know each other, both having been new to the city at the time with zero connections. They found themselves compatible not only as roommates, but eventually boyfriends as well! Jaime always puts others before himself; it shows in the passion he has for social justice causes he advocates for. Meanwhile, Pax works a parttime job at a small coffee shop, but is intent on putting himself through school to become a veterinarian.

Tanaka-Murdock

Nigel and Shannon met at Foxbury and developed feelings for each other during study sessions. Though Nigel was the only one to graduate, he admires Shannon for making the decision that was right for her. He enjoys being the breadwinner while Shannon follows her artistic instincts, though he wishes he had his wife’s free spirit. Shannon is quite hard on herself and works tirelessly until she makes something she’s proud of while their son Kason, while a quick learner, really just wants to play.

[bethanydelleman]

To be frank, I find the introvert/extrovert discourse online insane and completely ridiculous. People will fight to the death about if a character, Elizabeth Bennet, is an introvert or an extrovert, and people: they are opposites. If I/E aren't easy to tell apart for a main character of a novel, the categories are meaningless. But then oddly, considering that no one can tell I/E apart, extroverts are also some weird totally different species from introverts.

But Elizabeth Bennet is an extrovert and checks every single extrovert box and the reasons real internet people keep giving that she isn't are bonkers:

She takes solitary walks. I have some crazy news for you, extroverts can walk. I, a certified extrovert, take solitary walks nearly every day because I have a dog, whom I adopted knowing I would take her on these walks. It's shocking I know; I don't even die of loneliness at all! Consider for a moment that Elizabeth Bennet spends all day surrounded by four sisters and a very talkative mom, not surprising she takes walks alone occasionally. You'll also notice that she does invite her sisters along most of the time.

She reads. More shocking news: extroverts can read. Some of them read a lot. You know enjoying being around other people doesn't exclude reading. In fact, in the Regency you could even read aloud as a group activity! That is something we see in the novel. And Elizabeth also puts down her book when she finds a conversation more interesting.

She processes issues internally. That is not her preference, she likes to talk it out with Jane. When she's leaving Hunsford, Elizabeth is desperate to finally talk with Jane about all the crazy stuff that has happened to her, but she is forced to conceal a good deal of it because it's about Jane. She can't discuss Darcy with the Gardiners because his proposal is a secret, but she is eager to talk about the Lydia thing and learn her uncle's opinion. Also, extroverts are fully capable of processing internally, because again, not a different species.

She has trouble talking/feels awkward after the second proposal. Who wouldn't be awkward? Do people honestly think extroverts never feel awkward??? Not even when they love a guy that they verbally destroyed a few months ago? Not even during a confession of love? We uh... do. We get awkward too. In fact, sometimes when an extrovert talks rapidly, they are trying to talk their way out of an awkward situation. I have to work myself up to making phone calls.

Anyway, it drives me totally up the wall. Elizabeth Bennet is an extrovert, she thrives around people. Both end couples, Jane & Charles and Elizabeth & Darcy, are introvert/extrovert pairings, which is fun. If you want an introverted heroine, Jane Austen wrote five of them and they are all excellent: Elinor Dashwood, Marianne Dashwood, Fanny Price, Jane Bennet, and Anne Elliot. Catherine Morland, Emma Woodhouse, and Lady Susan round out the extroverts. It's awesome that Austen had such range in heroines.