#snarky cross stitch

[liminalpebble]

A snarky little wip by me, based on this legendary interaction.

[katiekutthroat]

Cute just cute

https://katiekutthroat.etsy.com

[smasterilli-patterns]

Freddie Mercury is the greatest musician of all time and his songs are great and still relevant. It was he who inspired me to create this cross stitch design.

Pattern by Smasterilli on Inspire Uplift

[peppermintcandiesshop]

Any sillys up for cute embroidered wall art

If your walls are bare and looking for some art to warm them 

Or are you looking for pants or onesies for a child in your life maybe even some dish towels or  makeup bags?!

Well look no further!!

My mom has many pretty HANDMADE embroideries you can do with what ever you please <3

https://www.etsy.com/shop/UpperCrustLife?ref=shop-header-name&listing_id=1437479894&page=1#items

https://www.ebay.com/str/brezoffinc

All items pictured are made by my mom

The backs are sewn and most come with the hoops or frames

[leaf-me-alone-to-live]

New pattern just dropped! I can't wait to make this one for my own kitchen :D

[solbaby7]

While the Cats are Away, the Mice will Play

warnings: some swearing, dirty dancing, it’s mostly just fluff (reader isn’t meant to look like the gif—she’s just there bc she matches the vibes) jealous batboys

summary: you and Mor have a goal to get Nesta out the house and make her have fun—the boys crash the party to watch.

——

“No.”

“Come on, Nesta,” You beg, pushing past the creaky old door to her apartment. The air inside smelled stale, as if she hadn’t opened a window since the day she’d moved in and judging by the overflowing dishes piling in the sink, that had been pretty neglected as well. “You’re wasting away in here and I won’t watch it anymore. Just come out with us. One night.”

“One night?”

“Just one.”

Her arms cross over her chest, steely glare unwavering as she mulled over the offer. “And you’ll leave me alone?”

“Probably not, but I won’t start bothering you to come back out again for at least a week.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s so deafening that you nearly take a step back, fully intending to give up and leave her to brood but something flickered in those blue-grey eyes, a brow raising and caution laces her tone when she asked, “Where exactly are you trying to take me?”

“Just a bar that Mor and I found,” You start, dangling the only bait you were certain that she’d take and you pray that with her new fae hearing that she can’t make out the frantic pounding of your heart, innocent excitement welling deep within your chest. “They move all the tables out after nightfall and it turns into a dance floor. Please, it’ll be fun.”

“Just us?” The underlying question is evident. Will Cassian be there?

“Me, you and Mor.”

Nesta lets out a scoff, hands smacking at her sides as she flicks at the grey material of her dress. The ends were a little worn, a few stains splotched here and there and if you looked close enough there was definitely a hole on the left shoulder but you refrained from pointing it out. Instead, you smile timidly as if luring an injured animal towards you, promising food and water and safety if they just trusted you for a second. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Your hand clamps around her wrist before she can protest, tugging her behind you and slamming the creaky front door behind you before urging her forward. “I’ve got plenty of clothes that you can wear—I’ll even do your hair if you want.”

If your hand wasn’t around her wrist, you’d have thought Nesta wasn’t even there judging by her silence but you didn’t dare stop, guiding her through the streets until you could see Mor and her golden locks blowing in the breeze, her gaze fixed on a chip in her nail varnish. “I didn’t think she’d do it.”

“You owe me three gold coins—I got her to come and she didn’t throw a single thing at me.”

Nesta’s sharp gaze bounced between you both, mouth pursed as she prepared to say some snarky comment intended to hit below the belt; to push you away and find her too dark and twisty to bother with and maybe even leave her alone to rot. “You bet on me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Mor stepped forward, burgundy red cloth cinching at her waist with a golden ring. “I was the one who had to stitch up Cassian after his last visit—sue us for preparing for the worst.” She doesn’t give Nesta enough time to answer, her palm flat against yours and Nesta’s shoulder and within seconds you were winnowed back to the Night Court.

You ignore Ferye’s raised brows when you walk past the sitting room with Nesta in tow, rambling about different outfits and jewelry to match her eyes. You pray she doesn’t say anything, certain that a conversation with her sister will surely pull her out of the partying mood and you make sure to pick up the pace when you see the Cursebreaker peek out the doorway with Elaine in tow. “I’ll get a bath going.” You feel Nesta go tense, her fingers curling around your wrist subconsciously before you can leave and immediately you nod. “Or a shower? So you can stand? I can even leave the door open so it doesn’t feel too stuffy.”

Her brows raise, surprise spreading across breathtaking features and after what felt like hours of staring she answers. “As long as you leave the door open.”

You’re quick to gather fresh towels and a washing rag, offering a plethora of scented soaps before Nesta snatched up the one with lemon slices fused inside. You wait outside the door, back pressed to the wall until you hear her enter the shower with a sigh. A minute passes, two and once you’re sure she was okay you disappear off to the closet picking up a silky pair of pants before deciding against it—Nesta always looked the most uncomfortable when forced into her fighting leathers, hands always fumbling with the fabric as if it just wouldn’t sit right.

Your fingers trace over an assortment of hanging dresses, some soft like velvet while others were a little itchy but the patterned lace always looked pretty when worn correctly. “I like that one,” Nesta says from behind you, hair wrapped in a thick towel, her dirtied dress bunched in her hands but she doesn’t stop staring at a soft blue dress tucked in the corner, tight at the top, long at the bottom with the entire back exposed and lined with pretty pale pearls. It’s not exactly meant for a night out but it was most similar to something she would’ve worn back then—before the Cauldron, before when Feyre had just been an Archeron and not the Cursebreaker.

“That one it is.” You trade dresses and disappear off to find some jewelry and a pair of shoes you’re sure might fit if you loosen the straps a little. Nesta takes her time and you use that go get ready yourself, shooing off Rhys when he tried to slip into the room just for a peek. “No. It’s a girls night—no boys allowed.”

Rhysand’s hands are tucked in his pockets, shoulder leaned against the wall with one glossy shoe stubbed between the doorway. “That’s a dumb rule.”

“Baby, I really need to finish getting ready.”

He nods. “I can help, we can figure out something else for you to wear.”

You glance down at your outfit—Mor had picked it out herself. It was black with long sleeves that hooked at the thumb with a swooping neckline. The corset like middle cinched you in just tight enough to add a little shape before smoothing out near the skirt. One deep slit was cut on the left side, broadcasting leg all the way to the crease of your hip. “What’s wrong with what I have now?”

“Nothing pretty girl, I simply just want to help you find the rest of it.”

Your eyes roll on their own accord, hand pressing into his hard chest to push him back before slamming the door back into place—double checking that it was locked for good measure. “You want a drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey,” You drawl out, eyes scanning over the bar cart Rhys kept tucked near the desk. “—and wine. Very, very old and expensive wine.”

Nesta emerged from the closet, her cheeks still a little too gaunt and the shadows under her eyes would need more than makeup in the long run but for once Nesta looked content, gaze tracking her own figure in the mirror. “I’ve been poor for a long time,” She muttered, peering up at you through the reflection, a hint of a smile forming. “I’d say it’s only fair we break into the good shit.”

And with that, you popped the cork free.

Three generous glasses later and you’d finally stopped laughing long enough to finish Nesta’s hair and makeup, arms interlocked as you bounded down the stairs, heels clacking against the glossy floors. “Mor, let’s go!”

Nesta breaks out into a grin with Elaine emerged, a plate full of cookies in her grasp and three have been snatched away before Elaine can even comprehend Nesta—dressed up, smiling and eating and not wasting away in that dingy apartment. “Save me some of those for when we come back.”

Elaine leaned into Ferye, watching Nesta winnow away with you and Mor with small smiles and teary eyes; too elated to notice Rhysand lurking in the shadows, violet eyes sharp as he searched the spot the girls previously stood. “Did they tell you where they were going?”

“I, honestly, was too afraid to ask.” Ferye rested a hand on her hip, eyes low with amusement as Rhys paced the room, a hand rustling through onyx locks. “Look, if you’re so worried, why not just ask Azriel or Cassian to tag along to make sure they’re okay?”

She regrets the words the second she says them, a lightbulb seeming to go off in the High Lords head before he’s stalking down the hall, muttering a soft, ‘good idea’ under his breath as he passed. Down the hall second door on the right, Rhys bounded through, both people he was looking for in the same spot.

Cassian turned from where he sat, a blade in hand as he sharpened its sides. “You good?”

“We’re leaving. Right now.”

Azriel doesn’t show any surprise at the blunt command but his shoulders straighten out at attention, shadows lurking around them. “What’s wrong?”

Rhys doesn’t even have to look at them when he says. “They’re at a bar and Mor was in charge of dressing them.”

Cassian frowned. “Them?”

“Yeah,” He nods, growing impatient. “She’s with Nesta and Mor.”

A brief silence before the sword he was cleaning sheathed back into place and when he stood, Azriel was beside him. “Let’s go.”

——

“What is this?” Nesta questioned wearily, steely eyes crossing slightly as she held up the glass filled to the brim with an alarmingly green substance.

“Don’t ask, just take it back and don’t throw up.” You and Mor tap your glasses against the tabletop before clinking against one another, waiting expectantly for Nesta before knocking it back.

Her face screws up the second it’s down, a balled up fist pressed firmly to her lips before finally releasing a deep breath. “That was disgusting.” A hand settled over her stomach, waving the barkeep over for a glass of water. “Why does it still burn?”

Mor stands from the stool with ease, an inebriated smile tugging at her mouth. “Come dance to take your mind off it—it’ll help.”

Nesta shakes her head in defiance and you let out a soft sigh, reaching out your hand to follow Mor but you never look away from the Archeron sister. You make sure put a little extra oomph into your dancing, bright smiles and bouncing curls and jewelry that clanked when the upbeat music shifted to something sexier.

You stalk towards her like a predator searching for their prey, gaze seductive but playful as you reach out for her. “Just one night Nesta, you agreed.”

Her eyes roll when she smacked her hand into yours with a sigh, heels clicking against the floor as she followed you back to where Mor was. You make a point to give her a bit of distance, dancing to yourself and getting lost in the music hoping that it radiated low expectations—willing a calm aura to wash over her in attempts to get her to just let loose.

And surprisingly, after a second, it worked.

Nesta’s dress flowed as she allowed her hips to sway in tandem with the beat, head bopping casually to the side before full on copying your motions. Where you raking up your body, she mirrored it, hips swaying and hair flying around her cheeks.

The three of you linger about, dancing alone, dancing together, grabbing more drinks before all that can be felt is the overflowing confidence that ensued with liquid courage. You grin mischievously at Nesta, all too aware of the eyes that can’t seem to tear away from your trio. “Watch this.” You glide through the crowd, hips swishing from side to side, one leg peeking out with each stride until you found Mor.

It’s second nature when she slides up to sit on the stage, feet dangling as you danced beneath her, hands teasing up your figure, painted nails teasing at her legs and the men that swarmed were positively ravenous.

Still, none of them ever touched. Never stepped too close.

Maybe they’d heard of Mor and how she’d conquered in her great battles.

Maybe they’d heard about Nesta and how Hybern had created her from scratch and the surplus of power she’d snatched back because of it.

The thought doesn’t linger and soon Nesta is close behind, following suit with moves of her own, a foaming beer she didn’t buy clutched in her grasp. “You think they’re watching us?”

You scoff, all too aware of the High Lord hiding in the corner with Cassian and Azriel, thick shadows mostly concealing them but you’d never miss that scent—of a strong male and his dark power and that damn night-blooming jasmine soap he insisted on using. “I’d put money on it they’ve been watching us since we stepped through the front door.”

Nesta lets out a laugh, cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly from all the dancing. “Thanks for getting me out of the house.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

[aroworlds]

This Aro Week, I've made cross-stitched card designs perfect for gifting to your favourite slightly-snarky aromantic.

The free tutorial includes patterns, card and fabric dimensions and a materials run-down as well as instructions on attaching an aida swatch to cardstock and other border techniques.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

benny & y/n : the wedding (part 7)

It was a sunny Wednesday morning. Kind of early for Benny and definitely way too early for Johnny and the entirety of the group. Tired faces and hands covering their mouths from impolite yawning, eyes glancing at the ticking clock. Sighs filled the cool air as the guests gave each other knowing looks.

Kathy stormed into the garden, her breaths not in synch. “Any moment, you guys.”, she announced and marched back into your house.

Johnny shook his head and elbowed Benny. “Think she changed her mind?”, his tone was teasing, but the blonde man actually considered his words. What if you had changed your mind?

“I’m even wearing my nice jacket.”, Cal commented, showing off his outfit - no sight of stitches or grease. 

Corky rolled his eyes at him and raised an eyebrow at him. “Only the lord knows what would’ve happened if you weren’t wearing your nice jacket.”, their bickering went back and forth, a nice distraction from Benny’s stormy mind. 

His lips twitched at the sight of his friends invested in a minor issue. Benny closed his eyes for a moment and let out a low breath, his hands in front of him, desperately trying to disguise his queasiness.

Johnny nudged his side once again, this time keeping the snarky remarks to himself. “Don’t you worry, kid. She’ll be out any minute. You know how ladies are. Taking their sweet time with makeup and shoes and—“

Muffins.

“Sorry! These took forever to bake!”, your sweet voice was the only thing he could make out as well as the incredible sweet smell of the muffins. Benny’s eyes finally moved on you, his heartbeat increasing by the second. A knee-length, white dress adorned your body and long, bouncy curls framed your face. He predicted a little pink lipstick on your lips - you had the tray in your hands and the muffin tower covered your face.

The guys moved forward to grab one of the sweets, but Kathy swatted them away with a glare. “Help her set the tray on the table, you moron.”, their gazes immediately lowered in embarrassment as a few others laughed along. The tray was safely set on the table and you were able to finally breathe out in satisfaction.

With your hands on your hips, you admired your creation as a smile graced your lips. A tapping on your shoulder made you flinch a little. You turned your head to the side and caught a glimpse of Kathy.

“Hey crazy.”, she smiled a little and you automatically reciprocated.

“It turned out well, didn’t it?”, you asked, your words sounding dreamy. Kathy laughed and threw a glance at Benny who was nervously looking your way.

“Y/N, you know you’re about to get married, right? And that your future husband is a mess of nerves and anxiety over there?”

Your smile dropped at Kathy’s words and your eyes immediately shifted on Benny, whose own gaze moved away from you.

“Oh crap, I almost forgot.”, you hastily looked around for your flower bouquet, another wave of laughter escaping Kathy. She eyed the flowers on the table and handed them to you.

“You ready to do this?”, Kathy’s tone was comforting as she wrapped her arm around your body. You let out a deep breath and nodded, your gaze darting on Benny, who was now talking to Johnny.

“Yeah, I am.”, a shaky smile appeared on your lips at the giddy thought of soon becoming Mrs Cross. I’m gonna marry that man. My forever person.

“Who’s gonna walk you down the aisle?”, Kathy’s observation made you blink quickly and your lips part. You were at loss of words. Nothing about the union of you and Benny was traditional - no floor length dress, no wedding cake, no tuxedos and nobody to walk you down the aisle.

“I don’t have a family anymore, Kathy.”, your words were slow, but they held no remorse or sorrow. You had accepted that fact a long time ago. For you did have a family, but moving from your hometown felt like a slap in their face.

Kathy’s gaze softened at your tone, but she had an idea. She looked at Johnny from over her shoulder and then wrapped an arm around you. “Let’s give the bride a proper entrance, yeah?”, you could only offer here a confused look as you were led back to your house.

“She’s going back inside again.”, Benny noted, his eyes fixated on you. “Why is she going back to the house again?”

Johnny didn’t know what was happening either so there was no concrete way to comfort his friend. “She brought the cake, kid. Now the homemade buffet for the guests?”, he tried to joke a little and as he was about to add another comment, he made eye contact with Kathy. She curled her finger at him, indicating him to follow her.

His brows shot to his forehead in confusion, but he reluctantly followed her instructions. Benny looked at him in question - not only did his bride leave him, but his best man was making a run for it too.

“Gotta help bring the food to the table, kid. I’ll be back.”, Benny simply nodded at the distraught tone his friend used. He shook his head as second thoughts started clouding his mind and looked down.

“Just so you know, Benny is losing his mind over there.”, were Johnny’s first words to Kathy. The bride nowhere in sight. “What the hell is going on? Tell me she ain’t thinking of running away.”

Kathy shook her head. “Y/N doesn’t have nobody to walk her down the aisle.”, Johnny’s foot stopped tapping as the reality of the situation settled in.

He nodded, looking down. “So… Me? She’d want me to walk her down the aisle?”

The woman nodded. “Well, that was my suggestion anyways. You ask her first.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to ask her? You’re outta your mind.”, he said hastily. “Besides… What if she says no?”, Kathy fought back a smile at his insecurity and then shook her head.

“She thinks the world of you, Johnny, trust me.”, Kathy promised with a reassuring smile. “She already said yes on marrying Benny - I think you’re in the clear.”

Johnny spared her another glance and rubbed his cheek. Ever since you were admitted home from the hospital, Benny had been extra caring and (don’t tell Benny) even embraced the softer, more sensitive side of himself. Johnny liked that. He was glad you were there for his friend, and getting to know you on a more personal level, he was glad you were in his life too.

“Hey kid.”, you glanced over your shoulder at the familiar voice.

“Hi Johnny.”, you mumbled, fiddling with the lace of your dress. “I think Benny is waiting for you out there.”

But the man smiled a little and simply offered you his arm. “How about you and I take a little walk?”

You looked up, your lips parting in surprise. “Really?”

Johnny laughed. “Really.”, he confirmed. “Though we have to get going. Not only is my hair turning grey, but your future husband’s might too if we keep stalling.”

You let out a chuckle and secretly imagined your Benny with strands of grey here and there. You couldn’t wait to see that. So you took Johnny’s arm and smiled widely at him.

The door opened again, earning a reaction from Benny, who was soon going to be made a saint for waiting as patiently as he did. But oh, it was worth it. You in that pretty dress and tears in your eyes as you were walking towards him.

Johnny winked at the groom and almost jealously tightened his arm around your hand. The guys were staring in awe, almost unable to believe it was finally happening - and that Johnny was the one chosen to walk you down the aisle.

Once you were standing in front of Benny, Johnny took you by surprise by kissing your forehead in a loving way. “Go get him, kid.”, he mumbled in your ear and shot you a smile, moving to stand as Benny’s best man.

You were only able to smile as you shook your head a little. Benny grasped your hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Hey baby.”, he said quietly, making you look up. You smiled and bit your lip at his words.

“Hi.”, you mumbled with a big smile. Danny had already started with the officiation, but you couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying — too many thoughts were crossing your mind. And noticing Benny’s blues so focused on yours, you predicted that he wasn’t listening to what Danny had to say either.

Every now and then, you felt the familiar squeeze from his touch, almost reminding you that all of this was real and that you were really doing this.

“— do you Benjamin Cross take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”, Benny’s eyes never left yours as his lips parted to let go of the long-awaited answer.

“I do.”

A squeal died in your throat as the giddiness took over you now. You just couldn’t wait.

“And now, do you Y/N Y/L/N take Benjamin Cross to be your lawfully wedded—“

“I do!”

Laughter was heard from the few guests, Kathy covered her mouth as a chuckle escaped her lips as well. Danny shook his head with a smile.

“I now pronounce that you are husband and wife. You may kiss—“

Benny couldn’t wait any longer and pulled you closer to him, his hands leaving yours to grasp your cheeks as he finally kissed you.

They lived happily ever after.

THE END.

A/N: oh, what a ride! I'm so happy about this chapter & the ending of the little series. as always, let me know what you thought and if you have any ideas of what I could be writing next, please comment 💋

bless you for taking your time to read this 🤍

MASTERLIST

austin butler digital 2025 calendar

Taglist: @leonesimp @cwallace02sblog @alexa4040 @notaceventura @wonderland2425 @thefastclownprince @ughdontbeboring

[eggcats]

Radiostatic fic, where when Vox is watching the hotel prepare for the Extermination and is like “they're going to FIGHT?!” he (internally) freaks out and decides to use the opportunity to try to get a deal out of the princess of hell himself. After all, he has the tech to fight - Angelic Security - it'd be remiss of him to not offer it to the princess and raise his status over that old timey prick!

–

“Vox, you of all people know that Angelic Security shit is a scam. Get your ass back in the chair.”

“Nonsense, Velvette! It's simply…untested. And what better way to beta test its worth than by using it against a direct assault from heaven?”

“If you die, I'm taking your room.”

–

So he goes over to the hotel to offer his help.

(Vaggie tries to stab him when he asks for a deal in exchange, and he doesn't know why he's so desperate to help, so he decides to offer it free of charge).

Alastor tries to veto it entirely, citing how all of his technology is both flashy and useless, but he's outvoted by Charlie. (She doesn't trust Vox, nor does she believe in his tech, but she's not in any position to not accept help where she can get it - at worst, she figures it doesn't work and Vox abandons them).

Alastor and him ignore one another to the best of their abilities - they're both too busy (and stressed) to even really bother with their normal hostilities. The most they do are just a few snarky lines whenever they cross paths, but overall it's fine. (Vox will absolutely not admit to himself that it's kind of nice to not be at each other's throats, for once. They've even had to work together once or twice).

So now Vox is struggling to help the hotel with the oncoming assault, and convinces himself that he'll be long gone before any real danger arrives - he's only here on the off chance they survive to up the status of the Vees. (Totally no other reason).

Except. He doesn't leave the night before, and surprises even himself by showing up ready for the fight.

And the fight actually seems to be going really well! (Vox refuses to acknowledge being impressed by Alastor’s shield, even to himself).

But then. Not too long after the shield breaks, Adam appears. And Vox doesn't understand why he feels like his heart has stopped for the second time. He does his best to ignore it, but then Adam effortlessly kills Pentious and all he can think about is the same thing happening to Alastor.

(He can't die like that loser, I'm the only one allowed to kill him! There's no way that pretentious angelic prick took him down!)

When Lucifer finally arrives to take down Adam, Vox disappears. He will find Alastor, because no one but him is allowed to kill him. He refuses.

Vox finds where Alastor was injured, but with him not being there Vox knows there's only one place he'd go - his radio tower. And he's right! He finds Alastor, alive! (Vox does not admit, even to himself, the blatant relief that goes through him).

Alastor does his best to defend himself, assuming that Vox is there to end him. However, Alastor is barely functioning and despite his best efforts, Vox isn't deterred.

–

“I'm here to help you, asshole! Let me see that injury so we can fix it, and then we can try to kill each other!”

–

Vox refuses to take no for an answer, and does stitch up Alastor's injury. (Vox cannot believe Alastor even survived it).

He succeeds in closing his wound, and ends up looking like he's lost a fight to a badger - covered in scratch and bite wounds. Vox complains about it the entire time, but he's secretly relieved Alastor is alive enough to not take his help lying down.

Anyway, after his help, Alastor finally gets himself ready to return to the hotel. (When he first stands up, he falters and tries to catch himself with his staff - obviously it fails with it broken - and Vox catches him instead. They refuse to look at each other as Vox helps Alastor leave his radio tower and walk back to the hotel).

It's not until Alastor asks Vox how long before he can expect to be on the news that Vox realizes he has no intention of letting anyone know that Alastor is injured. (Alastor obviously doesn't believe him, but Vox does keep quiet about it. He doesn't even tell Charlie when Alastor does his best to keep it from her, as well).

It's not until they arrive with the brand new hotel, Lucifer being present, and everyone recovering after the failed Extermination, that Vox realizes he intends on staying at the hotel, even without his original excuse.

(He needs to make sure Alastor recovers, after all).

[wordy-little-witch]

Brainrot is kicking in, work has me by the throat, I am so tired

Enter: self indulgent sillies

Shanks and Buggy both were kidnapped very often as children - be it by Marines, enemy pirates, Whitebeard on occasion, random ass guys targeting two unattended children, whatever.

They both have gotten so desensitized to it that they don't even get scared anymore. It becomes more "I'm not held here with you, you're stuck here with ME" type of situation.

Buggy is sassy, snarky, rude and sarcastic. Shanks pops in now and again with some completely out of pocket shit that sends Buggy into hysterics. Think that scene from Helluva Boss with Blitzø and Moxxie being kidnapped.

This complete lack of care extends well into their adulthood - Shanks because it's honestly kind of funny that someone had the audacity to try him, Buggy because sarcasm and sass is his defense mechanism.

Enter: Cross Guild.

Marines try an infiltration mission to Cross Guild, but they severely underestimated the organization. Mihawk was off island at the time, so they thought that the biggest powerhouse who could identify them via observation haki was gone. Buggy notices immediately both because his haki is oversensitive and he's gotten scarily good at reading body language. Crocodile, when informed, proposes they give the squadron what they want with interest.

A series of unfortunate events lead to Buggy and some of the crew shackled and in the plaza. Buggy's got seastone cuffs on wrists and feet both, and has failed to mention the mini transponder in his hair piece. The Marines made the mistake of cuffing him behind his back, thinking it would limit his knife skills. They don't know that Buggy's anxiety and paranoia has lead to him having a secret pin in his boots specifically to pick locks.

Buggy then proceeds to roast the men with all he's got while he works.

The others present are both confused and fighting laughter as the commanding officer gets more and more pissed off before he finally backhands Buggy dark enough to split his lip. Then a hand clutches his throat, lifting him slightly. Buggy splutters. The marine grins, a nasty thing, demands Buggy apologizes, complaining about the blood on his white sleeve. Buggy tries to speak and can't from the lack of air.

"Oh," the officer coos, "what is it? Finally going to beg forgiveness?" He loosens his grip just enough for Buggy to get some air, lowers enough for the other to go on tiptoes to get a strangled breath. Buggy cracks an eye open, a smile blooming on his face.

"H-Harder, daddy~"

The Marine drops him in disgust.

No matter what they try, Buggy has a come back. Crocodile is listening in, and Mihawk, upon arriving back, has joined him to avoid the navy presence. They're both a bit stunned, a little intrigued, and mayhap rethinking some preconceived notions of the clown.

Especially when there's sound over the transponder snail, a little clink, thump, a shout, and something wet.

"Well," Buggy's voice carries over. "Who's next? Come on, I haven't got all day, you already made me miss two appointments, you dull Neanderthals."

There's a sound like a sword being drawn, a war cry, and Buggy chuckles. "Ohh. You're stupid, huh? That's okay, Buggy likey dumby~"

Turns out even in seastone cuffs, even in twice as much as a typical pirate or criminal wears, Buggy is more than capable of taking out a squadron. He uses his surroundings to his advantage, fighting dirty and taunting them playfully, much to the admiration of the other's present. One cuff is off his wrist, but three more are still on him, cutting off his powers. He still manages to not get cut until the near end.

Even then, it's because one of the stragglers tried attacking his chained subordinates. Buggy gets a cut to the cheek, mild and harmless, maybe needing stitches, but he's furious. "No no no," he grits out, "You're playing with me right now." A stolen sword sinks into an opening with ease. Buggy leans in close. "Don't you ever fucking touch my children. Understand?"

No response. Buggy shifts the sword. There's a scream.

"Understand?"

"Y-yes..."

"Yes what?"

"Y-yes... s-sir."

Buggy snorts. "I was looking for your majesty." Then he yanks the blad up and out, leaving the body to slump to the ground. He turns to the few remaining. "Well?"

Buggy handles it on his own, the followers are even MORE fanatic, and Crocodile and Mihawk are facing a sudden and unexpected paradigm shift while watching Buggy happily eat a bowl of ice cream, kicking his feet happily and simply vibing like it's a typical Tuesday afternoon.

[katiekutthroat]

This too shall pass

https://katiekutthroat.etsy.com

[secretaccountlol]

Love and bonnets.

BLACK READER X PETER PARKER.

+18 SMUT!!!

No summary this time just gotta read it yourself :3

Word count: 3898!

TW? : uhm hair?? Uh the L word?! (Love) this is a pretty sweet fic so..also typos I’m sorry!

Author note:..hey ..soo.. did yeah miss me? Lol. Okay yes I’m sorry that haven’t uploaded in…like 3 months. This was originally was made in FEBRUARY.. for black history month and Valentine’s Day..(lmao yes Ik)

So sorry, also if your wondering on your request I’m sorry and I haven’t forgotten about you!!! I have this thing where I need to finish one story first, so since I was stuck on this one.. i never could start the other ones. Anyways enjoy.

Your mouth emits a low groan as the god rays blind your eyes, as you sit up stretching tight limbs.

You rub your neck as you look down, “goddamnit!” You pick your bonnet off your bedsheets, you kick your covers off in a rage making quick steps to the bathroom mirror

You pout seeing your hair thrown around your head like you were attacked by a windstorm. Looks like it’s another hat day, knocking at the bathroom door makes you jump.

“Hey, you done in there?”

“I’m naked!”

“No. you’re not, your lotion is still on your counter and I know you like to moisturize right after the shower. So open up, pleaseeeee? I gotta pee!” Before he could knock again you swung the door open, Peter’s shocked face turns into an inquisitive one.

“Your-“

“Don’t-“

“Didn’t y-“

“Yes,” you bum shoulders as you barge through the small doorway of your shared bathroom.

“But you-“

“If you mention it you’re anti-black!” You pause your feet, swiveling back to face him, “Also- don’t look in my room, it’s creepy!” Your arms cross as you speak, quickly turning around, not awaiting an answer.

“Your door was wide open! I didn’t look on purpose! A-and I’m not creepy…” you hold your laughter as you hear Peter mutter, “I'm not creepy” again as he shuts the door. You hum to yourself as you scan over each hat in your room, picking up each one as you put it against your forehead.

“I think it’s better to try them on, then put them against your forehead.” Peter’s voice sends a shiver of embarrassment as you turn to him, your mouth open to speak,

“Here, try this.” Your eyes are covered for a moment, Peter shifts the beanie to restore your eyesight you stare at his grinning face before turning to face your mirror.

The beanie fits your head perfectly, snarky blue embroidered webs were splashed on it, with the cutest spidey head logo winking back at you, and holy shit,

silk lining inside?!

“Pete, this hat is absolutely…” Your hands reach up to brush your fingertips against the embroidery making sure you weren’t imagining the intricate stitches.

“What? Is it not comfortable? I ca-“

“ Absolutely, adorable! Is it mine to keep?” Your eyes shift to his face which is bathed in blush, a simple nod acts as your answer.

You giggle as you pick clothes to go with your new hat using your bed as a display, your head tilts to look at Peter who has returned to his rightful place on the doorframe.

“Lookin’ for something, hm?” Your hands play with the fabric of your clothes as you speak.

“Oh? I give you free shit and you wanna kick me out?” Peter’s head rested on the doorframe tilted as he smirked, he really didn’t know how handsome he was, did he? You bit your lip.

“Nooo! I’m not kicking you out and you know it, Pete.” You roll your eyes before turning towards him taking slow steps. “But I do have to change and I like you Pete but not enough to let you see me naked, not yet .” Your tongue peaked out behind your teeth as you spoke,

Your hands rest on the door as you slowly inch it closer and closer to Peter’s body, he doesn’t finch opting to stare at you instead, eyes scanning you head to toe. “Are you imagining me naked?” Your eyebrows raised as Peter’s eyes flicker to your lips then to your eyes.

“No..” Peter’s voice wasn’t very convincing, you scoff pushing him out of your door frame, “I’ll be out in a minute.” You shut the door in his face.

-

“Singles night is a go!” You burst into the room, a new outfit on your body. Peter’s head lolling back to look at you, “Cute outfit but it’s definitely not night, at least not yet.” You frown taking a seat next to him.

“No need to be such a Debby downer, just a name.”

“Mm, yeah a name that only makes partial sense” Peter hands you a bottled drink, you block it with your hand.

“Beer? No thanks-“

“Mm, not beer. Fruity liquor, what do you take me as? A frat boy?” Peter’s hand hit his chest fingers splayed

In a fake offense.

You giggle, taking the bottle from his other hand, Peter pops the cap off for you.

“Why aren’t you taking a fine lady out for Val Day, Petey? Definitely hot enough to get some.” You bump shoulders with him.

He hums before answering, his soft eyes falling onto yours, “I’d just..rather spend it with you.” You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

“Pete.. if you keep talkin’ like that I might take it the wrong way.” Take a sip of your drink, checking the label, 4.25% so it’s not the alcohol talking.

“What if I want you to take it the wrong way?” Peter’s eyes hung low as he inched closer, your hands clamping on his mouth as you shifted towards him as well.

“This is a very cruel prank for you to play, Mr.Parker.” Your words were just above a whisper as you moved your hand away, sticking out your tongue returning to your previous position.

“Wasn’t a prank..” Peter takes a sip of his drink as he turns away from you, also returning to his lax position.

“Anyways, weren’t we supposed to go somewhere today? Hence my need for the cutest hat ever !” Your head tilted to him as you looked up at your hat, god this hat was just so stellar.

“Mm, consider this a pregame I set the reservations

later today.” Peter’s voice was warm and smooth, like whiskey.

“Shit, reservations? I’m not dressed for a fancy place, oh no I gotta go change no-“

“No- you don’t, it’s not a fancy place. I just wanted to make sure we get a seat cus you know, day of love and all” Peter laughed, easing your nerves.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You fake hit him, he dodged a smirk playing on his lips.

“ I didn’t! You scared yourself like that!” His hands shot up in a defensive stand, you scowl.

“Ya yeah laugh it up..”

A comfortable silence falls between you and him, you shift trying to get comfortable again, feeling a bit cramped from sitting up straight. Peter lets out a soft sigh, patting his lap. You oblige his request, your hat shifts off your head, Peter gently pulls the rest off your head. You open your mouth to protest but before you can his hands start to massage your scalp, your eyes close as you let out a groan.

“Dude, that feels amazing..” you hummed snuggling closer to Pete’s torso as he scratched.

Your mind wanders as you drift off to sleep.

“Wash day? Like for clothes?” His eyebrows knitted together as he racked his brains for answers. “No, for my hair.” You paid him no mind as you grabbed all your hair products, plus a towel.

“Why a whole day? Can you not just wash in the shower and go?” Peter followed you into the kitchen he spoke watching you line up the bottles of hair products. Turning on the water, checking its temperature, and moving the dial to your liking.

“Cus, It's easier to wash it here and takes a long time. Plus, it’s what my mom always did. Of course, those days are over and now I have to wash my hair.. no spa treatment for me. “ you pout, wash days were a favorite growing up. Minus the pain of detangling, you loved the scalp massage, and the greasing of your scalp, just thinking about it made you miss home.

“I can do it for you.” Your eyes shot to Peter suspiciously.

“Do what for me?”

“I could wash your hair for you, I don’t mind.”

“Peter..-“

“Seriously! Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I'm a very quick learner, plus.. I uhm.. really like your hair. “

You smile softly at Peter’s confession, “You like my hair?” Peter gives you an exaggerated nod, “I like how soft it is.. and how shiny it gets.. I just- really interested in it? I hope that’s not weird.” He puts his hands up before scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s not! I’m just surprised you noticed.”

“I always ..notice you..”

You bit your lip, “Uhm, well. Here I’ll show you what to do.”

You never thought you’d enjoy walking someone else through the process of doing your hair. It was actually relaxing too, Peter’s hands were way gentler than your mom's so that helped too.

Since that day you would occasionally catch him watching videos about black hair, or reading an article on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Hey, can I try something?” Peter breaks out randomly as you both sit in the common space.

“Depends? What’s up buttercup?”

“Well, uhm. So, I’ve been doing some research.”

“Ooh, research? On?”

“Well, your hair.. and I-..wanted to try to do a different style.. if you’d let me..?” Peter’s voice squeaked, you watched as he physically cringed, you giggled at his dismay.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun.”

“Seriously??” Peter’s bright eyes stared at you with wonder.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

Thus began the weekly hair appointments with Peter the stylist. He tried anything and everything natural, Bantu knots, box braids, cornrows, and twists! Nothing was too much for him.

“Why can’t I do your hair for our dat-uh..hang out for Valentine’s Day?” Peter’s arms were folded as he pouted, standing between the doorway trapping you.

“Mm, because you’ve been spoiling too much! I practically don’t remember how to do my own hair. Plus, I want my hair to be a surprise and add to the excitement!” You grin.

“You’re plenty exciting on your own for me.”

“Whatever- now move!” You push through him.

“Hey..”

You groan, your eyes squinting.

“Hey, wake up-“

You whine as someone shakes you gently, your eyes flutter open to Peter’s brown hair and soft eyes.

“Hey, sleepy head.”

Your subdued smile playing on your lips, “Mornin”

Your hand reaches up, caressing his cheek. Your smile splits into a grin as he leans to your touch.

“I got something to show you.” His hand lays over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I gotta get up to get it.”

“Mm- nooo,” you frown.

“I know but I’ll be quick, promise”

“Okaay” you lift, watching Peter walk to his room. You draw your knees close to your chest as you wait for Peter to return.

Your eyes light up when you see a small box with a bow tied neatly around it in Peter’s hands.

“It’s- it’s not much so”

“I don’t care! A gift is a gift, the only thing is you’ve given me two things today and I haven’t even gotten you one thing..” you sulked as he sat in front of you.

“No worries, I didn’t want you to anyways.” His hands extend the box out to you, your fingers graze him as you take it, and goosebumps formed on your arm from the light touch. He sits on the floor in front of you closely watching your reaction.

Your hands shake slightly as you undo the ribbon, opening the box carefully.

A piece of fabric was neatly folded in the box, your curiosity grows as you pick it out of the box, unfolding it gingerly.

A bonnet. He’d gotten you a bonnet, you turn in your hands a few times.

A bonnet with hearts on it-

Wait-

A bonnet that had the cutest collages of you and him printed on the hearts, your fingers trace over both of your smiling faces.

You turn the bonnet in your hands, noticing more little details. Your birthday and name sewn on the side in your favorite color, an adjustable satin strap to keep your bonnet from slipping, and to top it all off the same cute Spider-Man logo that was on your beanie he gave you earlier.

“Peter..”

“You like it?” He grinned.

“Awe I love it!!” You crash on top of him, squeezing the life out of him as you squeal.

“I don’t know who you commissioned but jeez you must have paid a shit ton for such awesome craftsmanship!”

“Actually..I sewed it myself.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “Are you serious, Pete?”

He nods as heat rises to his cheeks, “ I wanted it-.. to be special, custom. So I ..made it myself.” His eyes glanced away from you bashfully, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. You lift his chin, your fingers stroking his jaw, “Thank you so much, this.. means a lot .” Your voice was just above a whisper.

His eyes lock onto yours, his hands on your waist. For the first time, you're keenly aware of how your bodies are touching. Your legs basically wrapped around his waist, your crotch painfully closed to his, your chest pressing lightly against his.

“Can I show a bit of my appreciation?” You feel like you’ve been running a marathon, breathless as you spoke.

“Yeah..yeah I’d like that..” Peter’s eyes flickered to your lips then back to your eyes half-lidded.

Your lips graze his before you both take the plunge. Soft lips collide, your hands travel up to his hair tracing circles.

A satisfying pop rings through both of your ears as you separate, your forehead bumps against him as you stare into each other's eyes.

“I got something to show you, wanna see?” You mimic his words from earlier.

“Yeah,” he mimics you back.

“But I gotta.. get up to show you” You bit your lip, grinning at your little joke.

“Nooo” Peter laughs, pulling you closer.

“It’s either that or you carry me to my room, silly”

Peter shrugs, “okay”

“I’m jokin-“

Peter’s nose bumps yours as he lifts you, your hands are clutching his shirt in an instant, “Peter-!”

“What? You said to carry you..”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Let alone be strong enough!”

“Please you’re like a paper towel in my hands” he kisses your nose, “These muscles aren’t for nothing.”

“What muscles?” You stick out your tongue, giggling.

“Hey! I can still drop you, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I know you won’t.” You press a quick kiss to his cheeks as he gently lets go of your legs.

“What did you wanna show me?”

You grin, skipping over to your bed.

“This.”

“This?” Peter cocks an eyebrow.

“Know what this is?”

“I do.”

You sit down on your bed, “it’s a bed.”

“It is indeed.”

“Mm, do you know what we do on beds?”

“Sleep?”

You motion for him to come closer to you, he obliges by nestling himself between your legs, he towers over you making you crane your neck upwards. Normally this would be terrifying but with him. He looked like an Angel with the lights shining behind him.

“They also have sex.” You bat your eyelashes, you can make out the outline of his face as you speak but not his expression.

“Do you want..to do that?”

“Do what, Pete?”

“D-..do you want to have sex..?”

“Mm, Peter you’re so forward!” You teased, your hands toyed with his belt.

“May I?”

“Please” his voice cracked, desperate for your touch, for you.

Your soft hands undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans letting gravity help you pull the pants to the floor. Your hands trace his boner through his underwear, palm the head, squeezing softly earning a soft groan. Your hands travel to his waistband, tugging it down slowly like a prize being revealed.

You pump once, Peter's hips jerk forward “Your hands a-are so soft..- sorry.

“No worries, Peter, I enjoy knowing you like my hands. I wonder how much you’ll like my mouth?” You line up your mouth to the tip of his cock, planting a kiss.

“Wait-“ Pete’s hands wrap around yours, “I’m afraid I’ll -..cum if you go any further....-“

“Oh? That sensitive..?” Your eyes flutter, head tilting in question.

Peter's hand covers his mouth as he glances away from you, “On-only because it’s you..and I don't want to be the only one naked..-if that’s okay with you of course.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, “I’m okay with that..”

You shift up the bed to make room for him, Peter’s leg finds a place between your thighs planting soft lips against yours. Hands trickling down to your breast, “Can I?” His eyes were like saucers as he stared into your eyes as you nodded yes.

He lifts your shirt gently, pulling it over your head. His hands grasp your waist giving you a gentle squeeze before helping you wiggle out of your pants. His hands hover over your bra, “Are you okay?” You run your fingers through his hair breaking his trace.

“I..I’m okay, you’re just beautiful.” Peter’s hand soft cups your breast as he stares at you, your lips let his name slip through.

His thumbs slide into your underwear, pulling back and snapping your waistband making you both giggle.

“Whatcha doing down there?”

“Taking my time with someone I love..” He bites his lips, with those big brown eyes that you adore.

You guide his hands back to your underwear, letting them grip your sides, “Well, that someone wants you to fuck them.. so I insist you continue.”

“Well if you insist..”

His fingers hook onto your underwear sliding them down your legs, you giggle as you kick them off once they get to your ankles.

“I swear I just saw your dick grow a few inches…”

“Mm, probably because I’m lookin’ at the most beautiful person in the world.” Peter’s hands prop himself over you as you up at him, stealing a kiss from his smiling lips.

Your hands trace down his chest as Peter leans in for more kisses, his lips move to leave delicately placing nibbles down your neck and collarbone. Nibbles turn into hickies as his mouth gets closer to your breast, his hands fondle your left breast before kissing the nipple of your right breast.

“You’re so warm and soft..” Peter mumbles, flicking your nipples with his tongue.

“It’s probably cocoa butter..” you bite your lip as you stare at him,

“Is that why you taste so great too?” Peter grins kissing your tits again before letting his tongue drag all the way down to pussy.

“Is that.. a chocolate joke, p-peter.”

“Nope, but feel free to grill me about it later.” Peter’s hands slide down to your hips, forcing your hips up slightly to meet his mouth.

He presses a kiss against your clit, sending pleasure through your body.

“Pete-“

“Shh- I got you.” His thumb gently presses against your pearl as his tongue dragged down, his eyes low as his tongue wiggled its way into your hole.

“Ohh, Pete..!” your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at the soft locks of curls.

Peter hums in approval, tongue probing deeper into your folds, his hand slides to your pussy, his thumb strokes your clit with a warm touch.

His palm pressed against your stomach softly to keep you from bucking up as he eats you out.

Your fingers yank at his hair as he strokes your pearl faster, earning a gasp from Peter, his eyes connecting with yours, a small smile playing on his lips as he makes his way back up to your face, fingers still playing with your clit.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Fuck, yes.. I- need you inside of me..” You press a kiss at the corner of his mouth, tasting a bit of yourself on your lips.

Peter smiles as he dips down to capture your lips, as hips lined up with yours, replacing his hand with his dick letting it press against you.

“Condom?”

“Bedside drawer.”

Peter pulls out a condom from your stash, flashing it toward you while grinning.

“Naughty..”

You bite your lip in response, “Wouldn’t you rather me be prepared? “

“Yeah, otherwise I’d be running like a madman to my room to find one.” Peter’s brown hair flopped around as he spoke, hovering over you before pressing his lips against yours.

You hum as you feel his cock pressing against your hole, he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks his cock into you.

Muffled moans are exchanged as your tongues clashed with each other.

“You feel amazing.” Peter’s lips nipped at his neck as he thrust slowly, “This okay?” He flashed his baby brown eyes at you.

“Y-Yea I’m okay, you’re just.. a little big.” A whimper slips through as you speak, “Shit, Peter..you’re filling me so- so well....” you squirm, squeezing down on his cock eliciting a muffled moan from his lips.

“Holy shit- that felt amazing please do that again, squeeze me again.” His hips thrust forward, your head throws back, squeezing him simultaneously in response.

“Peter..!” Your hands rake down his chest as he fucked you into the plush bed.

“Fuck, s-say my name again, please- I need I-it.” He grip your hips in a bruising he slams into you, you hummed his name out in chants as he pumped in and out of you.

“You’re so beautiful” his left hand slip up into your hair massaging the roots as his lips graced your skin, his thumb stroking circles into your skin, “Peter- I’m- “

Your back arched from his continuous touches, his hand pressed on your belly making your head loll back in pleasure.

“Oh god- shitshitshit. Right there-!Sosos good- “ your mouth drooled as his pace quickened, “I’m comin’-“

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. I’m- “

Peter’s hands grip your waist as lifting your ass off the bed, ” I’m- gonna cum..!”

“I-I’ve wanted to do this for so so long-“

Your body goes limp as he fucks you through your high, “I love you- fuck I love you so much..!” Peter’s cock swells inside of you uttering more confessions as he cums, until his pace dwindles into small nudges.

His nimble fingers trace your hips before, reaching to engulf you in a tight embrace.

“That..was really really good.”

“It was..”

You both pause, it’s a comfortable silence.

“Did you mean ..that? When you said you loved me?”

Peter’s head which was in the crook of your neck moves to hover just above yours.

“Of course, I meant that.” His hands caressed your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I really do love you, if.. that’s okay?” He rubs the back of his neck, looking away slightly.

“Of course, that’s okay, Peter. Cus I..love you too.”

You could feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, as Peter’s eyes connected to yours in surprise.

“You do?”

“I do.”

His lips are instantly on yours sucking away your breath, you both pull back when you hear his phone make little chimes.

“I swear if it’s a spam call-“ his lips never stop kissing yours as he speaks, making you giggle.

“Sh- that’s the alert for our reservation!!”

“Wait- what?”

Both of you shoot up immediately, hopping on various clothing.

“Are we even gonna make it on time?”

Peter pauses for a second, “Mm, maybe if we swing there..?” His voice cracks a bit, making your lips split into a grin.

“I’m feelin’ adventurous today, why not?”

[poplarste]

uhhhhhh that tiktok (thanks @peter-pantomime, hope you don’t mind the tag) that points out that Eddie coulda zipped up his leather jacket and tac vest combo and maybe not been eaten by bats, but it’s Eddie saying “Steve? [significant pause] Make him pay” and Steve taking a step forward to zip up his jacket and saying something cheesy

...upon reflection i didn’t think i was actually going to sit here and write this all in one go but lo and behold i’m supposed to be working on an article shhhh

further update: this is now on ao3 Something crosses Steve’s face when Eddie points out that he and Dustin are nooooooot heroes, but Eddie ignores it in favor of indulging himself, just for a second, watching the set of the three heroes’ shoulders as they move toward Creel House.

“Hey, Steve?” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, some unchained impulse to at least let Steve know Eddie respects the fuck out of him now, just in case they both die.

The real heroes turn back, waiting.

“Make him pay.”

Steve retreads those last few steps, back over to Eddie and Dustin, claps a hand to Eddie’s leather-clad shoulder, the sound of it drowned out by sickening red thunder. He leaves his hand there, too, and Eddie’s confusion is only silenced by the thudding of his heart when Steve’s free hand comes up to his chest.

He tugs at the teeth of Eddie’s War Zone vest, real live actual tactical armor to replace the battle vest that Steve’s still got over his fresh War Zone shirt and under his fresh War Zone jacket, for reasons Eddie doesn’t have the brain power to contemplate. It doesn’t seem at all like him -- they’ve been all tense and snarky at each other (and Eddie supposes he gets why) since he’d pinned Steve to that boathouse wall and held glass to his throat. That felt like a lifetime ago, though. They’d been different people then, or at least, Eddie thought maybe he had been.

“You should zip up,” he tells Eddie, like he’s actually saying something else. “You’ll catch your death.”

Eddie does not catch his death, though the blood under Dustin’s fingernails from keeping pressure on his neck loudly proclaims just how close they came. He knows it’s just luck that he didn’t bleed out anyway -- a couple inches toward his chin and he’d be just as mangled as the poor, brave vest Robin had insisted on confiscating for cremation later -- but now that the anesthetic has worn off and the fever has gone and the fresh stitches in his face and neck start to itch like a lot, actually, it occurs to him that if Steve Harrington hadn’t taken that one moment of absolute character-breaking insanity, Eddie’d have been ripped apart. Bled out, there on the rocky ground of the Upside Down, probably all over Dustin since the little shit had come after him anyway.

Fucking kid. Eddie loves him so goddamn much.

But back to Steve, and his incomprehensibly tender moment in the middle of the apocalypse.

Once they were all patched up and cleared and definitely not rabid, thank you Robin, they’d been released. Free to go. Nary an NDA in sight, just a withering look from Agent Stinson and an edict to just “please, for the love of God lay low until we sort this out.”

Cool, as far as Eddie’s concerned. He’s too busy not scratching at his stitches and reeling over Steve inadvertently saving his life. Eventually, he can’t resist the urge. The line rings and he fidgets with the cord.

“Robin,” says the voice after the ringing ends, no greeting at all. “For the last time, I’m not rabid, none of the blood tests showed any scary Upside Down shit, everything is --”

“Steve.”

Steve stops on the other end. Which is fair, really, since Eddie’s literally never called him on anything that’s not a walkie talkie before, and that was mostly incidental. “Eddie. What’s going on, man?”

The edge in his voice is subtle, enough to dismiss and make the question either casual or an alarm bell, but Eddie doesn’t miss it. He just gets to the point, and Steve-on-the-other-end can do with it what he will. Eddie’s not his mom. But Wayne raised him right even if the rest of Hawkins doesn’t think so, so he’s gotta say something. “You know you saved my life, right? The jacket thing. Down in... Before we split the party.”

“What?”

“You told me to zip up my jacket, and the vest,” Eddie insists. “I’d have been chewed up like a cheap dog bone if you hadn’t. I just. Thanks, man.”

Steve’s quiet on his end of the line. At first, Eddie thinks maybe he’s just stunned that The Freak has any manners, but as the silence stretches on, he begins to wonder if actually the line’s been cut or something.

“Steve? Buddy? Steeeeeeeve,” he croons into the phone. “You OD on pain meds over there or something?” Steve, having been significantly more chewed up and run around on it far longer than Eddie, had been stuck in the hospital for several days with a high-grade fever, after all was said and done and Vecna was burnt up to a crisp. None of it had seemed particularly Upside-Down-y, just regular exhaustion, dehydration, and good old rampant infection, but once he’d been released, Eddie had it on good authority that he was a champ about taking antibiotics and an absolute nightmare about taking the pain pills they’d given him for all of the…everything on his back, arms, and sides.

There’s a strangled noise from down the phone line, and Eddie wonders if the phone actually is fucked. Before he can ask, though –

“Guess I did, huh?” Steve’s voice is soft. “Don’t mention it.”

Eddie scoffs a little, playful but casual. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to think about it much, either.” Steve actually does let out a chuckle at that, and Eddie grins, since there’s no chance of anyone seeing and calling him on it. What, then, is the harm? It’s just a little hero crush. “Hey, I’ll let you go, man. See you around, when Buckley lets you rejoin society.”

Steve groans just a little at that. “Yeah. Robin.”

“Robin,” Eddie agrees. “Later, Steve.”

And then Steve’s voice is all soft again, like it was when Eddie thanked him, like it was when he told Eddie to zip up his vest, and now – “Yeah. Later, Eddie.” There’s a lingering silence on the line, like Steve’s waiting in case Eddie has more to say.

Eddie hangs up first, and resolutely doesn’t think about it.

Who doesn’t get crushes on heroes, anyway.

[ardentprose]

The Perfect Moment

A/N: Foggy Nelson in a Christmas sweater is the true reason I wrote this.

Type: Foggy Nelson x Reader; fluff; comfort; Christmas time

Length: 5.5k~ | 25 min.

Warnings: suggestive sexual thoughts; cursing; female reader

Feel free to message me if a warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: You have it all planned out. The perfect place, the perfect time, the perfect words. But someone else has their own agenda for how things will go down.

The faucet squeaks with a turn of the handle. Shaking your hands in the sink, you swipe your face with the leftover moisture, before grabbing the hand towel. Leveling with your reflection for a moment, you heave a sigh and flick the bathroom light off as you exit.

As you step back into your bedroom, the muffled swoosh of the front door and the faint jingle of keys signify the return of your husband. You move to the closet, chuckling as you hear Foggy singing to himself down the hall.

When Foggy finally appears in the doorway, he finds you draping different options of shirts across your bedspread with a critical eye.

"Whaddya think?" In lieu of a greeting, Foggy pinches a large navy sweater up to his shoulders, allowing you to take in the detailed portrait stitched on the front.

Your eyes flit first over embroidered Christmas lights around the neckline and bordering the trim. Then, they narrow at the off-centered Santa Claus driving a sleigh, his head tipped back and his round cheeks cherry red.

You tilt your head.

In one glove, Santa holds the reins to the twelve famous reindeer who are all crammed onto the sweater, their stitched eyes wide and slighty frantic looking. Santa's other hand holds up a large stein of beer proudly above his head. Half-hearted snowflakes dot the empty remainder of the sweater, peppering the sleeves as well.

You raise an eyebrow at the ugliest Christmas sweater you've ever seen.

"If there's a contest, you're definitely going to win." You settle on your response, watching Foggy's proud grin transform into a snarky, scrunched up retort.

"Joke's on you. This one's yours." He tosses the atrocious sweater at you, causing you to drop the v-neck in your hands just in time to catch it with your face.

You huff, pulling the suprisingly soft material down and giving Foggy your best attempt at a glare.

He grins and crosses the bedroom to greet you properly. Pulling you in by the waist and pecking your lips twice, the second kiss always lingers as he draws back, refamiliarizing his tongue with your taste.

You hum, meeting his fond eyes with a smile despite yourself. The way this man was impossible to stay annoyed with, was irritating in itself. But of course, you rarely were given a legitimate reason to be angry with your romantic and incorrigibly corny husband who thought his life endeavor was to make you laugh until milk came out your nose.

Foggy reveals his other arm, holding up a second sweater, significantly more red, between your proximity. 

"Don't worry, mine is worse."

"Is it? Lemme see." You challenge, but he dodges your attempt and holds the balled up sweater above his head.

"Just trust me!" He uses his height to his advantage, and with his free hand shoves you away while laughing at your attempt to grab the Rudolph-red sweater.

"Why on earth would I do that, Nelson?" You grab his wrist with your left arm, then jump at him, only succeeding in knocking him back a few feet. His arms drop to your waist instinctively, ready to break your fall if you go down with him.

Foggy manages to catch himself, and with you now trapped in his full embrace, he ducks his head towards you, brushing noses.

"Because I'm your husband, Mrs. Nelson."

"Mmhm. That excuse wouldn't hold up in court."

"Sure it would." He steals a kiss.

You grab his chin and steal another before allowing him to break from you.

Foggy brushes past to his side of the closet, protecting the sweater against his side. You allow him to pass, but your gaze tracks his movements like a subconscious ritual to appreciate today's chosen court attire.

The deep raven suit he wore today accentuates the expanse of his shoulders and complements his figure well. It leaves little to the imagination where the image of a powerful, cut-throat lawyer is concerned. It's exhilarating and slightly intimidating when you remember your husband's job is to dominate the courtroom with graceful intelligence and a silver tongue. You've seen him in court a handful of times and are glad you have been spared being on the receiving end of his ruthless wit. At times you even struggle to reconcile the two images, one of the fierce lawyer who will shred the opposition's argument in the pursuit of justice, and your husband, who insists on cuddling under one blanket and gets teary every time the heroes prove victorious in a movie he's seen no less than a dozen times.

It's especially hard to picture such a stern figure when Foggy texts you in the middle of the day that he's coming home with the perfect Christmas sweaters for tonight's family party and insists you will wear them with him or suffer his "wrath". (Wrath here, meaning Foggy will refuse to hug or kiss you for a good hour, before he himself forgets and leans in for a kiss, then gets confused why you burst out laughing).

Foggy crouches down to pull open a low drawer and snatches up some jeans. He tosses them on the bed, then proceeds to shed his jacket first with practiced care, hanging it up in the closet. His gold wedding band flashes under the bedroom light as he loosens his tie with harsh tugs before pulling it from his exposed collar. Next, he unbuttons his cufflinks to roll up the sleeves and unclasps the gold anniversary watch on his wrist.

Such mundane actions, yet your eyes are riveted to every movement. Damn, your husband was hot.

"Honey." Foggy's tone alerts you to the fact he must have already been talking for awhile. Finding his gaze already on you, and the smirk rising beneath it, confirms your guess.

Honestly, you didn't care if he teased you for how often you got worked up whenever he went to court dressed in his finest attire. He certainly didn't mind either, reaping the benefits just as well.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat and hope the desire fades with it. In a few hours you would be in a room full of his family members. The last thing on your mind should be what you'd like to do to this Nelson in particular. You stare at your laid out options on the bed, if only to disguise the side-eyeing of his large hands now unbuckling the leather belt at his waist.

Foggy snorts, but doesn't call you out on your shameless ogling. "I asked if you had any trouble with the casserole?"

"Oh, no." You shake the events of today back into the forefront of your mind. "Yeah, I didn't have any trouble with it. The recipe Aunt Susan gave was pretty straightforward."

You quirk your lips to the side, biting on them slightly. "Hopefully it's good, though. I've never made it before."

"I'm sure it tastes amazing. You're more than capable of bringing a man to his knees with the meals you've cooked before."

You snort, now facing your husband again as he tugs up the pair of jeans.

"You do that when we order takeout. So that doesn't count."

Foggy grabs the the allegedly "uglier" sweater and pulls it over his face. His arms lift above his head as they blindly search for the sleeves and his happy trail down his stomach is revealed from the upward motion. With his vision obscured beneath layers of festive red, you ogle him shamelessly, only turning back to choosing some black leggings for your outfit when his head pops up.

"I stand by my statement, because it's true." He says. You lift a quizzical brow at him, doing your best to feign innocence. However, the need is useless and your retort is forgotten when you see his sweater is indeed much worse.

If one could imagine a party full of drunk elves tearing down Santa's workshop while toys on tables are ablaze, and Mrs. Santa throws copious amounts of "snow" onto the elves, they would be halfway there to how horrible the image truly was. To think someone spent hours stitching such a scene by hand was diabolical.

"You weren't kidding."

"No, I wasn't." Foggy raises a brow at you, knowing he was right all along. He brushes past your figure, smacking your ass lightly on his way past.

"C'mon, I'll go try it now and it'll blow me away."

"Yeah, okay." You roll your eyes at his enthusiasm over a mere casserole.

With the addition of the sweater covering up whatever shirt you choose, you grab the nearest one, a pink v-neck, and change into the deep blue Christmas sweater. You find your favorite winter leggings, thick but not constricting. The sweater is large enough to swallow your arms and fall to your thighs.

You exhale, relieved, then glance up and find Foggy in the doorway, his expression soft as he waits for you. If heart eyes could be personified, it would be defined soley by the way Foggy looks at you.

Your cheeks prickle beneath the unadulterated affection in his eyes, so you move forward, exiting the bedroom before either of you start something that would make you very late to the annual Nelson family Christmas party.

Foggy releases a long, drawn-out moan that escalates in pitch. His head tilts back, eyes shut tight as he savors the bite melting in his mouth.

When he comes back to reality, straightening his posture and opening his eyes, he finds you trying your best to judge him for his theatrics, but failing miserably to hide your amused smile held between your teeth.

"Honey." He puts the fork in the sink, then grabs your face in both hands and smashes his mouth to yours.

You exclaim into his mouth, but accept his enthusiastic kiss of approval.

"Sweetheart, this is perfect. It tastes just like Aunt Susan's." Foggy eyes the dish before opening up the utensil drawer and grabbing a new fork to scoop up another bite.

He hums, shaking his head.

"Dare I say," he whispers lowly, "It may be better than Aunt Susan's." He jabs a finger at you, swallowing the last of his bite.

"But under no circumstances will you ever tell her I said that. Unless you want to see your husband served on a silver platter with Christmas dinner."

You taste the remnants of the dish from his kiss and though you never tried the actual meal despite cooking it yourself, you trust his judgement, biased husband that he is.

"I'll take your secret to the grave." You swear, breaking into giggles as Foggy grabs you, peppering your face with kisses for the hell of it.

"Alright. Let's go before I change my mind and keep this casserole to myself. We gotta train to catch."

The rocking of the subway train is rhythmic, broken only by sporadic jerks and bumps that send you knocking into Foggy's chest. Your eyes watch the stations blur past the windows, until your vision starts to swim and you switch to people watching instead. But with each stop, more and more travelers shove their way into the car, shouting on phones, talking and laughing with friends, or coughing and sneezing from the brutal winter above ground. Your eyes dart up to Foggy's face, his absent gaze straight ahead as you feel more than hear the faint hum of a Christmas carol vibrating from his chest. You frown as the train jerks forward again. The harsh lights of the traincar flicker and buzz. The doors open and in flood more commuters, but this time, an acrid smell best left unidentified hits you like a brick wall. You huff, harshly gritting your teeth.

You swallow carefully, though the train doesn't help as it jerks forward again at an unforgiving speed, bouncing over the tracks with the weight of a full car of people. Your gloved fingers fall on Foggy's thick winter trenchcoat. Biting your lip in consternation, you finally manage to undo the top five buttons, down to his stomach.

Slinking your arms under his armpits, within the confines of his jacket you press your nose into the center of Foggy's chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar musk and sweet apple cologne he wore for the party. The material of his sweater scratches your nose but you only step closer, until your body is pressed against his. You squeeze his waist with your arms. Foggy's grip remains on the handle above your heads while his other hand holds the insulated tote that carries the casserole. He drops a kiss onto the top of your head and shuffles one of his boots slightly between your stance.

As close as you can be, you close your eyes and take deep slow breaths into Foggy's chest, feeling the vibrations of your favorite Christmas carol when he resumes his humming.

"Franklin!" No less than ten people, similar not only in facial features but enthusiasm to your husband, chorus their welcome once Foggy pries open the door to Nelson's Meats.

"Patty! Theo! Ma! Aunt Susan! Un- ah, forget it. There's like a hundred of you." Foggy calls back, arms wide open as his family members rush forward to envelope him into the fold.

By no means are you left behind. Now a resident Nelson for two years, the relatives are just as eager to see you. A line forms as each member hugs you tight, grips you by the shoulders and asks questions varying from "How the hell are ya?" "How's the old ball and chain, heh?" "Franklin is behaving himself, right dear?" "You look so damn beautiful, sweetheart. How the hell did Franklin convince you to choose him?" "Is Franklin treating you right? Cuz if not, I know a guy..."

You wave off Uncle Sean with a laugh. "Yes, yes. He's good. He's perfect." You beam as the elderly man purses his lips in disbelief, before breaking into his own smile and a wink.

"Welcome back, sweetheart! I missed you at brunch this past Sunday." Anna greets you at last, leaning in to hug you with a kiss to the cheek.

"Hello, Anna." You smile, always amazed at how you earned the affection, and slight favoritism, of Foggy's mother. You remember being terrified of her when you first met, but now, you truly feel at home and the most comfortable by her side at these events.

"I'm sorry again I couldn't make it." Anna huffs, waving your apology away like a bad smell.

"Don't apologize, dear! I'm sure you caught that nasty stomach bug going around. Half the family got it the week before last. I'm just glad you're feeling better." She squeezes your arms. "How's work? How's that project you were busy with? Is that asshat of a boss still giving you a hard time? You know, Foggy could probably do something about that, being a big fancy lawyer and all."

You chuckle. "I'm sure he would if he could. He's even offered to step in a few times. But I'm okay, really. The project is almost finished and then things won't be so tense at work." You explain, easing Anna's worried frown bit by bit.

"Alright, dear. I'll take your word for it. But don't wear yourself out!" She gives your shoulders a good, firm shake. You nod, blinking away the dizzying effect it has on your vision.

You turn your head, looking for your husband, and find him already across the room, engaged in an animated, hand-waving, rambunctious conversation with his dad, brother, and two male cousins.

You love the image of Foggy in his natural environment, perfectly at ease amongst family. His personality, sometimes too much for the outside world, is met with the same energy within the shop's walls. He gestures with the hand not holding a drink and pulls exaggerated faces as he tells a story, no doubt about a court case. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes alight, and his long blond hair is slowly losing the gelled hold it had from his work day, strands of it falling between his bright eyes and brushing his rosy cheeks. Theo tugs on a handful of hair brushing Foggy's shoulder with some comment you vaguely make out to be 'Who is copying whose hair style?'.

A hand presses into your shoulder and you turn back around to find Anna, Aunt Susan and Rachel, another inducted Nelson by marriage only a few months ago, standing before you. Anna holds out a cup, which you accept.

"Try the eggnog. Rachel made it from scratch!" She boasts. Rachel nods her affirmation. You lift the cup to your lips.

"It has a slight kick to it. My family usually adds double the rum." Rachel warns.

You freeze. Then, before they notice your hesitation, you tilt the cup upwards. As soon as the thick substance touches your lips you feign a swallow. You lower the cup, allowing them to see the evidence on your lips before licking it away. Even that small amount, you taste the spice of the drink and hum your genuine appreciation.

"It is good." You praise. Anna's eyes flicker from your hand gripping the cup to your face.

"Well drink up, then! There's plenty of it to go around." Anna turns abruptly, catching mischief from the corner of her eye.

"Aiden! Don't touch that table, young man!" She shakes her head, charging after the three year old who waits until she's close before dashing off with a croissant in hand.

"How was the casserole? I hope it was easy to follow." Aunt Susan asks, turning your attention back to her.

You reassure her it was and the conversation flows from there, spreading organically from member to member of the family. You make your way around the room, greeting everyone and catching up, all the while nursing your eggnogg at your chest.

You eye the trashcan in the corner, then look around the room for any sign of Rachel or Anna.

In your search, you find Foggy again, still talking with the same people, although now one or two more have joined the exchange of work stories. Foggy is actively engaged in whatever woes of work his cousin Pete, is sharing when Lucy, a four-year-old, runs into Foggy's frame and latches onto his leg.

She starts calling for her uncle's attention, but Foggy doesn't respond, nodding along to Pete's story. You watch as Foggy lays a hand over Lucy's head, smoothing back her hair a few times. At the first break in conversation, he stoops down with the enthusiasm of seeing a long lost friend, no sign of annoyance at her interruption to be found.

"Yes, sweatpea! How can your favorite Uncle Foggy help you?" A string of protests from the men around him cause Foggy to scoop up the giggling girl and take a significant step away.

She grabs his cheek, pulling his head into her. He offers his ear, leaning into her grasp so she can "whisper" what she wants. Foggy's eyes go wide, he gasps, and bounces the girl in his arms.

"You can absolutely say hi to your aunt! Should we find her?" Foggy drops his voice to a dramatic whisper. "I'll give you a hint. Look for the most beautiful woman in the room."

Cheek to cheek, their faces scan the room, features alarmingly similar. You're already blushing when their eyes find your face. Foggy makes a show of waving you over and you huff, self-conscious under the eyes of the awaiting group, but happily weave through the room to their side.

Lucy shouts for you in glee when you arrive, diving from Foggy's arms to yours. You catch her, laughing and forgetting your shyness as the little girl begins to catch you up on all her play time escapades.

When you get a chance to speak, you shift her to lower her down. She begins to protest, but you place her down regardless. You hold her hand instead, crouching down to her eye level. Still holding the cup, you offer your eggnog to Foggy.

"Rachel made this. You should try it." You say. Foggy accepts it without question, sipping it heartily and nodding.

"Nice kick to it." He hums and downs the rest of it.

You exhale, relieved to have not wasted the drink and turn back to the little girl with a sweet smile to continue her story.

"Then what happened, princess?"

Dinner is called within the hour and everyone gathered in the too small butcher shop begins to work in sync. Some members grab the crockpots and dishes off the tables while others shift the tables into the center of the room. In minutes, four long tables are lined end to end down the center of the shop and fold out chairs are dragged up along each side. The food is replaced on top and everyone finds a seat, marveling at the buffet of food and thanking those who made it.

Foggy's hand rests on your thigh beneath the table, the other hand holding his fork which half the time is used for it's intended purpose, the other half of the time used to point accusingly at someone misrepresenting him in a childhood tale.

You take careful bites of your food, happy to finally be seated. The packed shop, with the generated heat of dozens of bodies in winter clothing and unintentional bumping into one another, made sweat begin to prickle beneath the neckline of your already heavy sweater. Although you loved the enthusiasm and energy of the Nelsons, sometimes it felt like you were all packed like sardines within this tiny storefront.

Now that everyone was a little more organized and seated at the table, it didn't feel quite as overwhelming. Even still, sweat continues to spread under your armpits and bead at your temples. Your head slightly throbs with the multiple passionate voices competing in volume to be heard the loudest. Your stomach rumbles, the lack of sustenance throughout the day starting to take effect.

You take another bite of mashed potatoes. Your stomach twists and it's all you can do to swallow. You grab your cup of water, chugging it down to the halfway point.

Conversation continues to flow around you, Foggy's own hand squeezing your thigh absentmindedly whenever he starts to get excited.

You inhale. Exhale. Your eyes dart over the table's spread, searching for something lighter than the meat and potatoes on your plate to eat, despite having barely touched either.

Instead you find Anna's gaze already on you and suppress a jump. You drop your head down and make a show of stabbing some ham, asparagus and corn onto your fork and taking the massive bite.

Even as the flavors sting your tongue and you force your lips to close around the fork, you know you've made a mistake. Anna is no longer watching you, but it's too late to spit out your food. That would be rude, and you didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea.

You curl your toes in your shoes, press your fingernails into your palms, and swallow.

You count through gritted teeth.

One, two, three...

"Let's get the dish of the night out here!" Foggy's father exclaims.

The table erupts into praises as Anna half-heartedly waves away the attention as she moves her chair back to stand.

"Alright, alright. Nobody needs to lose their shit." Her eyes twinkle when the kids gasp at the curse word and giggles break out among them.

In seconds, she returns with a glorious roast of turkey draped in a maple glaze, sprigs and dried fruit. The pungent aroma of sizzling meat and decadant sweetness drifts over the table. It smells delicious, to a degree, until the smell continues to grow stronger and stronger. Past the point of appetizing and bulldozing straight to nauseating.

Unfortunately, it's the nail in your coffin.

Your eyes grow wide. Your stomach lurches. Bile climbs up your throat. You shove back your chair and sprint from the table, booking it into the bathroom.

You slide to your knees on the cold tile, and lift the lid just in time to throw up into the toilet. You gag, tossing up the little you ate at dinner.

Outside you don't hear a sound. That can't be good. The Nelsons are notoriously loud, but right now, you can't hear a single thing. Hearing not even a whisper sends embarrassment flooding your system.

Tears burn your eyeline as you retch again, nearly dunking your head into the toilet with the violent motion. You sit back, gasping for air and choking back the urge to burst into tears.

The door swings open. You don't bother turning around, knowing who it is as you throw up again.

Foggy falls to his knees beside you, pressing the toilet lid back for you and rubbing your back with the other hand. You dry heave a few more painful times before your body is satisfied and the cycle ends.

Collapsing back, your vision swims and your temples pound. Foggy reaches past you to flush the toilet, then cradles your shaking form in his arms.

"M'sorry." Your hoarse whisper draws your husband's brows deeper.

"Baby." He shakes his head, pulling some toilet paper off the roll. He turns your face gingerly towards him and dabs at your mouth. Your eyes drop to where your knees are touching, shame staining your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Foggy asks.

He doesn't criticize, he doesn't ask why, he only wants to know if you're alright. The sweet sentiment finally breaks you and you burst into tears.

"I....I didn't want to....I had it all planned...to tell you..." You sniffle. Foggy has already drawn you into his arms ever closer and only pulls back centimeters to hear your mumbling.

"Tell me what, sunshine?"

You draw a shaky breath and look up at him with the biggest, saddest expression he's ever seen. Your lower lip juts out, trembling, and he would find it adorable if you weren't so distraught and he wasn't on the verge of panicking himself.

Foggy chooses to calm you down first, cupping your cheeks and swiping the tears that fall from your red eyes.

You grab his wrists for dear life and take a shuddering, steadying breath.

You meet his eyes again and the smallest hint of a smile flickers over your mouth.

"You're going to be a father."

Foggy's thumbs stop. You feel the tendons in his hands constrict. His expression of distraught concern freezes. His eyes stare into yours, unmoving.

You stop breathing then, too.

Tears well up first, until they build up in his eyes and spill down his face, splashing onto your fingers. Foggy smiles with trembling lips, as shaky as his voice when he speaks.

"Fuck....we are....you're...I mean-"

You exhale and nod slowly between his palms. You can feel the warm metal of his wedding band pressing into your cheek as his hands hold you tighter. Foggy's expression grows delirious, his smile larger than his astonished eyes.

"I'm pregnant." You confirm.

A sob breaks from his lips. He dives in and presses his forehead to yours. Foggy closes his eyes, another cry escaping him before he takes a steadying breath.

He lifts his head, sniffling, and kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. He kisses your lips over and over and over, until you gently push him away, smiling ruefully.

Foggy pauses. "What?"

"I just..." You shrug. "I had created an entire plan to surprise you. I didn't expect to tell you on the bathroom floor of a butcher shop."

He snickers until it tumbles into outright laughter. Foggy stands first and then helps you stand as well, an arm gingerly around your waist and already so protective of your body with this newfound information.

"I know." You lament. "It's stupid. It's just you deserve a grand...surprise... I don't know."

"Baby, sweetheart, darling." Foggy turns you to face him. He presses a firm kiss to your forehead, wipes away the remnants of any tears on your cheeks, and grabs your hand. Raising your fingers to his lips, he kisses your wedding band, eyes on you ever so poignant.

"You are the love of my life. You could have told me behind a damn dumpster in some backstreet alleyway for all I care. I love you, so fucking much, but I don't give a shit about what I deserve. I don't deserve anything." He shakes his head, hair flying into his face with vigor. You automatically reach forward to brush it out of his face. It only spurs him on more.

"I don't deserve you, my beautiful wife, who thinks it's not enough that you are creating our child, but for some reason needs to tell me in some special way, as if the news itself isn't magical already?" He rants.

You sigh, biting your lip. "I know. I said it was stupid."

"It just proves how much you love me. Which again, I'm baffled by." Foggy's eyes fall to your stomach and an awestruck expression glazes over his eyes before he smirks, looking up at you with a twinkle in his eye.

"Think of it this way. They had a serious case of FOMO. We're at the biggest Nelson gathering of the year and our little one wanted to be included in all the festivities."

Foggy watches triumphant as a silly grin finally breaks your somber expression. A hand falls to your stomach.

"They are a Nelson, after all. Makes sense they couldn't keep themselves quiet for long." You snort. Foggy scoffs, but can't help leaning in for another doting kiss.

He pulls you towards the door, hand falling onto the handle and looks over his shoulder at you.

"So are we telling the audience out there? Because, don't panic, but it kind of looked like the sight of my mom's dish alone disgusted you."

You groan. "I knew it would come across like that. No, of course we can tell them. I don't want Anna to hate me."

"Trust me, you're her favorite in-law." Foggy reassures, leaving no time to process the confession as he swings open the door.

The party has gone back to full swing, respectfully not drawing attention to your absence until Foggy steps forward, raising his hand.

"Nelsons!" He shouts. For once, every single Nelson in the room quiets and turns in their seat, eyes now on the two of you. You swallow, pressing into Foggy's side with a bashful smile.

"I just wanted to reassure you guys everything is fine. Although, the newest Nelson might have some strong opinions on Ma's roast."

Foggy grins, basking in the precious seconds of silence it takes to dawn on everyone. Anna, who you are watching anxiously, and who was frowning in confusion, is the first to light up, screeching so loud she scares those sitting nearest her.

"Oh! Franklin! Is it true! I can't believe it!" She scurries around the long table in record time, running straight into you with a hug that unintentionally knocks Foggy to the side. She releases you, tears already in her eyes when you nod. She turns to her son and cups his face.

"Oh Franklin, you're gonna be the best damn father that baby has ever had." She sobs. Foggy's elation collapses into renewed tears of joy and you step back to let mother and son comfort one another.

By now the room has caught on, with cousins explaining to older folk who can't hear as well, and older siblings explaining to the kids there was gonna be a new Nelson next Christmas. Needless to say, the entire room erupts into cheers. The scraping of chairs accompany applause as the Nelson clan floods towards you and Foggy to congratulate you two with hugs and kisses. And of course, not so covert jokes at Foggy's "well done putting the work in", along with playful, but serious threats "that he better not let his big time lawyering gig take him away from his wife and baby."

Foggy shakes his head, his own expression screwed up tight in digust at the thought of it.

He draws you in against his side. "She's gonna be sick of me by the end of this."

"Probably." You tease, earning a round of laughter and a pinch from Foggy. You placate him, turning his chin to plant a bold kiss on his mouth. The hoots and hollers escalate as Foggy matches your energy, then exceeds it by dipping you low and kissing you until the kids start calling out how gross it is and the phones start coming out to snap pictures.

It wasn't how you pictured the grand reveal going, but how rare it is for life's precious moments to go as planned. And really, the unexpected reality often holds more love, laughter, and memories than you could ever imagine. Yes, the laughter, the cheers, the teasing, the attention, the warmth is all still overwhelming, in truth. But now? Knowing you are surrounded by the biggest support system one could ask for, and the world's most adoring husband and soon-to-be father, it's the best feeling in the world.

[thegoldheartlocketandkey-blog]

911 Spoilers Season 3: You’ve been warned. 😅

Episode 1

I took these notes back in the middle of January and forgot how much more detailed these notes were compared to Season 2. The first episode of this season was 5 1/2 pages long in my journal alone. There was an obvious attempt at making the notes more cohesive and legible but that quickly went down the drain. I'll show you the first page of course. Kindly ignore any obvious spelling and grammar issues you may see. The notes will still be transcribed below.

I also think I took so many notes because I knew what was coming in the first three episodes. I think I'm going to make this post about Episode 1 a stand alone post and post Episode 2 and 3 together because It'll definitely be too long of a post with all three together.

Episode 1: Kids Today

1.) Highspeed Chase

The 118 minus Buck are preparing to stop the car. Eddie is Sitting across from Hen and Chim alone.

Eddie grabs the axe and is working with Bobby to get the kid out of the car.

Eddie is the one to figure at why the car would not brake. He hands the father a "souvenir".

Eddie is lowkey snarky and sassy in the most adorable way possible.

2.) Buck is in a burning building trying to save an unconscious woman, but in reality was actually completing a firefighter test and saving a mannquin.

Preformed so well that he established a new record.

The instructor states " Most guys take the Stairs" in reference to Buck jumping thru a vent in the floor (More evidence of Buck's Suicidal tendencies)

Welcomed back as a Firefighter.

3.) Surprise Party at Athena and Bobby's Place

Eddie walking around with a tray preparing the party.

Buck and Maddie walking in with Athena. Buck being surprised by everyone. (Genuinely unsure if he was actually surprised or because the reaction was too grand. I like to think he was expecting the surprise.)

Eddie having one one of the more grand surprise screams and big hand gestures in the group.

Chimney looking over at Eddie and then Buck while yelling surprise (This took a lot of pausing and rewinding to catch this very subtle moment).

Buck and Eddie hug. A nice big hug. Eddie holding Buck's waist. (We all know this infamous hug) Everyone just watching them hug for a moment.

Buck and Eddie talking outside when Christopher walks towards Buck. Buck crouches down to Chris' level, while Eddie watches. Chris hands Buck a hand drawn card that states he's an awesome firefighter.

Montage of Buck thanking guests and cake

Buck talking to Hen and Karen about their fertility treatment. Karen correcting Buck about calling the sperm donor a baby daddy. (Only pointing this out because of the cursed story line we get in season 6. My least favorite storyline for Buck, but I'll talk about that when I share my notes for season 6.)

Buck watching Maddie and Chimney be all lovey dovey and jokingly suggesting marriage.

Bobby approaching Buck about officially being back when he begins to rub his chest and thank Bobby for being there. (Really establishing a father son moment).

Buck starting to aggressively cough and the cough becoming more and more violent. The camera cutting to Eddie, where he instantly disengages from his conversation and has a worried look. Everyone around becomes worried. Buck coughs up blood and collapses.

3.) Buck is in the hospital diagnosed with blood clots. He reveals that he ignored signs of discomfort because he pulled a muscle while training. He doesn't think it is a big deal, while Maddie is pissed.

"You could have died!" "But I didn't"

Buck not remembering what happened when he passed out.

Buck overly concerned about the mess he made at Athena's (We learn this from a text sent to Bobby)

Bobby becomes hyper aware and concerned over Buck pushing himself too hard.

4.) Nursing Home

Eddie crossed arms and silently judging the man with a rash.

Eddie is gesturing to Chim to look at the man's junk. He's so casually funny it is all in his mannerisms.

The way the editors stitched up this scene is so funny. One second Eddie is stern with his arms crossed silently judging, goes to being visibly shocked, back to stern, than utterly disgusted, and back to stern.

Eddie educates everyone about the increase risk of STI's in the elderly while guiding patient into the hall with Chimney. Still has judgy eyes.

Eddie being amused in the background by all possible people affected by the STI.

I use to volunteer at a nursing home when I was in highschool and old people are freaks. Met a man with two girlfriends at the facility. He was definitely bragging when telling me the story about how more relaxed old people get with sexual health. I am now realizing that this was a weird story and I'm obviously over sharing.

5.) Buck calling Bobby letting him know he's being discharged by the hospital.

Buck wanting to go back to work right away. Bobby telling him that he can't go back to work yet. He's no longer clear to return.

Buck becoming more and more upset with the conversation and voicing that his identity is being a firefighter and basically admitting that he believes his life is worthless if he's not a firefighter.

Bobby talking to the entire 118 about how upset Buck is. There is a mix of Buck needs more time to process and he needs to process faster cause he is stuck.

Eddie shares how his father would tell him to brush it off and move forward even when the situation was difficult.

Hen points out that Buck's life is the firehouse.

Bobby states " Buck has us, even though he might not believe that right now." while staring at Eddie, Eddie stares back.

6.) Missing Mother Rescue- Eddie discussing the woman who obviously stole a baby and harmed the mother is pretty catty in tone.

7.) Eddie forcibly wakes up Buck and gets him out of bed.

"Your life is not over because your not a firefighter."

Christopher is waiting down stairs in the living room for Buck. Complete surprise to Buck, he's slightly taken off guard by him being there. Eddie walking over to Chris with a slight grin. He knows he was trying to be slick.

"He's hanging out with his Buck today!"

As Eddie leaves, Buck is upset, but seemly appreciates and knows the stunt Eddie just pulled. Not entirely upset because he does enjoy spending time with Chris.

I love this scene so much! First it implies that Eddies has a key to Bucks apartment. Eddie knew that Buck wouldn't refuse to hangout with Christopher. Chris and Buck seemly having their own individual relationship.

Buck takes Chris to the pier. We get a montage of them having fun on rides, eating cotton candy, photos, carnival games.

Buck truly enjoying himself with Chris, but gets FOMO when he sees an emergency at the pier and firefighters are responding.

Chris looking out to the ocean while Buck tightly grips the back of Chris' shirt.

Having a deep conversation about finding a careers he enjoys when he grows up and that he truly enjoys it. Christopher understanding that this conversation is directed toward him but not about him. He reassures Buck by stating, " You're going to be alright kid."

Everyone watches the ocean practically vanish and form in to a huge wave.

Fear/Panic on Buck's Face.