#Salt and vinegar chips and called it a day

[3raccoonstryingtorobabank]

y’all I’ve been playing chapter 4 and- (spoilers IG)

Crowley gave MC a phone to contact him for emergencies and then just proceeded to turn his phone off??? While they’re basically being held against their will in Scarabia???

reason number infinity of why I’d make a shitty MC is id be putting magic toaster in bathtub way before this 😭😭😭

[waitimcomingtoo]

Rumor Has It

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: chaos ensues when Peter suspects you may be pregnant

Masterlist

“Do we have any salt and vinegar chips?” You asked as you rummaged through the kitchen pantry.

“No, because those are disgusting.” Rhodey replied without looking up from his newspaper.

“Actually, they’re delicious.” You insisted. “Clearly someone agrees because they’re all gone. I need something bitter. Do we have any pickles?”

“I think we have some left over from Cap’s birthday blowout. I’ll help you look.” Peter got up from his seat at the kitchen table and went over to help you look.

“I’ll look too. I need some cheese balls.” Sam patted his stomach and went over to the pantry. What he found inside was a nearly empty bag of cheese balls waiting for him. Sam slowly held up the bag to everyone sitting at the kitchen table so that they could see it.

“Who ate all the balls?” He said calmly.

“It wasn’t me.” You answered.

“Not me. I don’t eat that crap.” Bucky scoffed.

“What do you call that then?” Tony asked and pointed to the pop tart in Buckys hand.

“Well it’s strawberry flavored, isn’t it? That’s a fruit.” Bucky replied.

“You’re a fruit.” Tony mumbled.

“Come on. Fess up.” Sam urged. “Who finished all the balls?”

“Not me.” Peter answered while everyone else stayed silent.

“Well it was fookin’ one of yus.” Sam snapped and threw the bag to the ground.

“Don’t look at me.” Tony held up his hands in defense. “I haven’t eaten cheeseballs since the 80s. That was also the last time I tried crack. Unrelated.”

“Someone needs to tell me who ate all the balls or there’s about to be an Avengers level threat in this kitchen.” Sam warned.

“I did it. I ate all the balls.” Carol confessed and stood up from the table.

“And just put back an empty bag? Don’t you think the rest of us would’ve liked some balls?” Sam asked as he slowly walked towards her.

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I didn’t care.”

“Maybe you should care. I was looking forward all week to those nice, crunchy balls.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” Carol replied and narrowed her eyes.

“Why did we all decide to drop “cheese” and just say balls?” Peter raised his hand to ask.

“If you finished the balls, you should have replaced them with more balls.” Sam told her.

“I’ve been busy.” Carol shrugged him off.

“Doing what?” Sam scoffed. “Eating all the snacks and not replacing them?”

“Why’d you ask if you already knew?” Carol asked sarcastically, making Sam grow madder.

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll kill you harder.” Carol warned back.

“Guys. No fighting in the kitchen.” Tony quipped. “It makes the fruit go bad faster.”

“He’s right. The bad vibes make the banana go brown instantly.” You insisted. Carol looked down at the empty bag of cheese balls and sighed.

“I’m sorry I ate all the balls.” She said sincerely. “I’m on my period right now and I honestly don’t even remember doing it.”

“Fine. You get off the hook this time. But only because I don’t understand how periods work.” Sam said with the same sincerity.

“I can go get some more balls now at the store.” Carol offered. “I need ibuprofen anyway. My cramps are killing me.”

“Hey, sparkles, can you get me some cough stuff while you’re there? My throat is acting up.” Tony said and rubbed his sore throat.

“Why are you always sick?” Sam asked him.

“Your immune system gets weaker as you get older. This cold could very well be his last.” Peter pointed out.

“Thanks.” Tony replied sarcastically through a cough. Carol left for the store and you looked down at the cheese ball bag in confusion.

“What’s today?” You asked Peter.

“The 25th.” He replied. “Don’t ask me what day of the week though. I’ve never known.”

“Hm.” You frowned and put your hand on your stomach.

“What’s wrong?”

“My period was supposed to come on the 10th. I wonder why it’s so late.” You shrugged.

“Weird.” Peter shrugged as well and didn’t think anything of it.

“I guess these will have to do. As entertaining as this was, I’ll be in my room.” You said as you grabbed a bag of tortilla chips, kissed Peters cheek, and left the kitchen. Sam turned to Peter with an amused look on his face, making Peter frown in confusion.

“Uh oh.” Sam chuckled.

“What oh?” Peter asked.

“Nothing. Just don’t ask me to babysit.”

“Babysit who?”

“Your kid.” Sam said simply.

“What kid?”

“The one your girlfriend is pregnant with.” Sam said like it was obvious.

“What?” Peter laughed. “She’s not pregnant.”

“Did we just see the same thing? Her periods late and had weird food cravings? She’s definitely pregnant.” Sam insisted.

“He’s right. Only a pregnant person would willingly eat salt and vinegar chips.” Rhodey said from the table.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no way she’s pregnant.” Peter laughed it off but felt his stomach start to turn with anxiety.

“Oh. My bad. I didn’t realize there was no way.” Sam snorted and looked Peter up and down. It took Peter a minute to realize what Sam was implying and he quickly shut that down.

“Now hold on a minute. Best believe I’m in my baby’s room every night leaving her adequately satisfied. I’m saying there’s no way she could be pregnant because we use protection. And because I have lighting quick reflexes.”

Tony threw a a buttered bagel at Peter from the kitchen table and it stuck to his chest. Peter looked down at the bagel before looking at Tony in shock.

“Why would you do that?” Peter asked.

“The question you should be asking is didn’t your tingle tell you I was gonna do that? Maybe your reflexes aren’t as quick as you thought.” Tony shrugged and went back to his breakfast. Peter peeled the bagel off and tossed it in the trash before looking at Sam.

“Do you really think she’s pregnant?” He whispered.

“I don’t know. Do you?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. Do you?” Peter asked back.

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah. That’s a really good idea. Let me ask my girlfriend if she’s pregnant. That definitely won’t effect her self esteem in any way or make her mad at me at all.”

“You’re right.” Sam agreed. “You have to sleuth.”

“Or I could just wait until she feels ready to share the news.” Peter pointed out.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “You gotta go sleuth.”

And so, Peter left the kitchen to sleuth. He went to your room and pushed your door open to find you.

“Hey, honey bee.” Peter greeted you as he walked into your room. You were standing in front of your floor length mirror with your shirt pulled up a little.

“Do you think I’ve gained weight?” You asked as you examined your reflection.

“Uh….” Peter looked behind him for help getting out of this question. He ended up turning in a full circle twice and got dizzy.

“Peter?” You asked and rolled your shirt down.

“Ummmmm.” He stalled and pretended to take sudden interest in the things on your dresser. He knew girls had a record of asking things and wanting certain answers and he was almost positive that this was one of those questions. Your question had also watered the seed that Sam had just planted in Peters head about you possibly being pregnant. Peter knew he needed to avoid answering this question before you got suspicious that he might know something.

“Did you say something?” He asked you.

“I asked you a question.” You laughed at his obvious attempt at avoiding the question.

“You did? I must’ve miss that.” He played dumb.

“Just be honest with me. Do you think I’ve gained weight?” You repeated.

“I don’t understand the question, sorry.”

“It’s a simple yes or no question.”

“I’m confused. Are you asking me?” Peter forced a confused laugh and pointed to himself.

“Yes, you. You’re the only one in here. Do you think I’ve gained weight? Be honest.” You asked and looked back at your mirror again to see your side profile.

“In what regard?”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “Just answer the question. I’m not gonna be mad. It’s not the end of the world to gain weight. I just want to know if you’ve noticed it.”

“I’ve never noticed anything. Ever.” Peter replied.

“Right. Thank you.” You chuckled and walked over to him to wrap your arms around his neck. He kissed you hello and momentarily forgot about what Sam had suggested.

“Why do you ask?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I was just getting dressed and I realized I used to put this belt on this hole but today I put it on the hole after that.” You shrugged and showed him your belt.

“Maybe it shrunk.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I grew.” You shrugged.

“You look beautiful either way.” Peter said sincerely. “Whether you got bigger or not. You’re still the only girl I want to holla at.”

“I think so too. Thanks.” You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder to hug him. Peter wrapped you in his arms and sighed happily and you gently rocked back and forth.

“You’re welcome.” He answered. For a second, he wasn’t panicking about the possibility of a baby. Instead, he felt excited to start a family with the person he loved most.

Later in the afternoon, you and Peter strolled into the kitchen to get some snacks. Tony and Sam were making lunch while Carol restocked the snack cabinet.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s your cough syrup.” Carol said and gave the cough medicine to Tony.

“Thanks. My throat is killing me.” Tony sighed and cracked open the bottle.

“Here. We have measuring cups in the-“ You started to say as Tony took a long swig of the syrup.

“Or chug it. Okay.” You nodded while Peter stifled a laugh.

“Ugh. They can’t figure out how to make this taste any better?” Tony grimaced and wiped his mouth.

“I’ll make you some tea to wash it down.” You offered and filled the kettle with water.

“Thanks, kid.” Tony smiled. “I love when my annual man flu lines up with when you’re home from school. You’re so good at taking care of people.”

“Thanks for saying that. I don’t know what it is but I really like taking care of people when they’re sick. It makes me feel like a mom.” You said as you poured the hot water over a tea bag. Peter started choking on the water he was drinking while Sam gulped.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom.” Carol told you. “You’re so giving.”

“Aw, thank you. I hope so.” You smiled and patted your stomach twice. Peter and Sam exchanged a look with equal panic on their faces. Sam grabbed Peters arms and pulled him aside.

“Did she just pat her stomach?” Sam whispered.

“No way. This can’t be happening. You can’t be right. You’re never right!” Peter whispered back as he started to panic.

“Maybe this time, I was!” Sam whispered harshly.

“She can’t be pregnant. There’s no way. She would’ve told me.”

“She is telling you.” Sam insisted. “She’s dropping hints like crazy.”

“Oh my God. Why’d you have to put this idea in my head? I’m freaking out, man.”

“So am I. You think I want a spider baby crawling up the walls and shit like it’s the exorcist?”

“Technically the exorcist is the guy who gets rid of the demon. He doesn’t crawl up the walls. The possessed person does that. Well, I guess depending on the demon.”

“Jesus Christ. This kid is about to be so god damn annoying.” Sam sighed.

“You know what? No. She’s not pregnant.” Peter decided and walked away.

“Are you sure about that?” Sam called after him as he went back into the kitchen. When Peter got there, you were mixing honey into Tony’s tea while helping him with something on his phone. Peter watched you patiently teaching Tony and smiled to himself. He once again felt that maybe it would be okay if Sam was right. If you were pregnant, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It was unexpected and jarring, but not impossible for Peter to handle as long as he had you.

The pregnancy rumor that existed between only Peter and Sam died down for the next few days. It wasn’t until a rainy Sunday that Peter thought about it again. You were watching a movie in the living room with some of the team when Natasha came in.

“Carol and I were gonna go train. You wanna join?” Natasha asked you.

“I would but my lower back is killing me. I think I slept weird.” You said and cracked your neck. Peter felt his face heat up when you said this, and Sam caught it too.

“Did you hear that? Her back hurts. Because of the baby!” Sam whispered to Peter.

“That’s not why. Didn’t you hear her? She said she slept weird.” Peter whispered back.

“Duh, she slept weird because of the baby!” Sam whispered again. Peter waved him off but couldn’t help but wonder if he was right.

“I could crack it for you.” Natasha offered.

“Could you? Thank.” You got off the couch and went over to Natasha. She wrapped her strong arms around you and was about to squeeze when Peter jumped off the couch.

“Not so fast.” He said and pulled you away from Natasha.

“What’s the matter?” You wondered. Peter was dumbstruck for a second when he realized he couldn’t say he didn’t want Natasha to crack your back incase her giant muscles squished the little baby in your tummy.

“I just don’t think it’s safe to be cracking her back if you don’t know what you’re doing. You could hurt someone.” Peter tried to explain but didn’t sound convincing.

“I’m not gonna hurt her. I’ve cracked her back plenty of times.” Natasha insisted and pulled you back towards her.

“Okay. Just be careful. Baby on board.” He mumbled the last part quickly.

“What was that?” You asked him.

“Nothing. What did you say?” Peter asked you to throw you off.

“I didn’t say anything. Weirdo.” You laughed at his odd behavior and let Natasha crack your back. Peter held his breath until you were safely out of her arms.

“Oh thank God.” He sighed. “We survived that. Cool.”

“Did you not think we would?” You laughed in confusion.

“I don’t know how to answer that question.” Peter answered honestly.

“You are being so odd lately. More than usual, you know that?” You chuckled as you pulled him back towards the couch.

“That’s just my boyish charm.” Peter laughed weakly and settled back onto the couch. He pulled you into his side and told himself that your back could be hurting for any number of reasons and didn’t necessarily mean you were pregnant. You watched the movie for a little bit until Peter felt you shift and wince a little.

“Are you okay?” He asked you.

“Yeah. My boobs are just sore.” You said and adjusted your bra uncomfortably.

“Why? Did you sprain them?”

“Um, no.” You chuckled. “I don’t even think you can sprain them. I must be PMSing.”

“Oh, thank God.” Peter said too enthusiastically. “Your period came?”

“No. Why do you seem so excited about it?” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him. Peter gulped and avoided eye contact with you.

“Excited? I’m not excited. Your men’s trail cycle doesn’t evoke any emotions within me. But if you don’t mind me asking, how are you PMSing without the P?”

“I’m pretty sure the P stands for “pre”. But you still get the symptoms sometimes even if you’re not on your period.”

“Interesting, interesting. Follow up question, are you usually this off kilter?”

“You mean irregular?” You laughed. “No. I haven’t been late in years.”

“Hm. Weird.” Peter forced a laugh and tried to focus on the movie while his mind raced.

“You’re telling me. My boobs hurt like a bitch.” You whined and pulled the blanket up to your chin.

“Ahem, I could help with that, m’lady.” Peter smirked and held up both his hands. You looked at him for a long time with a disgusted expression before turning back to the movie.

“I want pretzels.” You said.

“Coming right up.” Peter jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen. Sam saw him leave and got up to go after him.

“How’s it going?” He asked Peter once they were alone in the kitchen.

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed. “She hasn’t told me anything yet.”

“Is she showing any other signs?”

“She said she thinks she gained weight but I can’t really tell. I don’t think about that stuff. I just see her and I’m like “oh my god it’s a girl”. Have you noticed anything else?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but I saw her rip the wrong banana from the bunch and broke down crying.” Sam admitted.

“Oh no. Is craving bananas a symptom of pregnancy?”

“No, idiot. Mood swings are. For your future child’s sake, I really hope she isn’t actually pregnant. No one deserves this dumb of a father.”

“I know.” Peter whined. “What do I do? I’m freaking out.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you soon. And if she doesn’t, you’ll find out anyway. It’s kinda hard to hide a pregnancy after a few months. Just relax, man.”

“Okay. You’re right.” Peter agreed. “I’m not gonna freak out until I know there’s something to worry about. Now excuse me while I pee out this apple juice.”

Peter walked away from Sam and went into the bathroom. After peeing, he blew his nose and went to throw it out when he saw something strange in the trash. He frowned and pulled it out before feeling all the color drain from his face.

“Oh no.” He said gravely. In his hand was a pregnancy test with two red lines.

“Positive? What? Are you sure?” Peter whispered harshly and shook the test. The lines stayed the same and Peter felt his stomach drop. All those moments of thinking everything would be okay seemed so far away now. Now that it was real and not just an idea, Peter felt overwhelmed. You were really pregnant and he really didn’t know what to do. He felt his heart start to race and he fell against the door with the test in his hand. You heard Peter thud against the door and went to go investigate.

“Peter? Are you okay in there?” You asked as you knocked against the door.

“Go away! I’m pooping!” Peter screamed as he ran the test under hot water to try to change the answer.

“Why is that always your response?” You sighed and walked away. Peter waited until you were gone before sneaking out of the bathroom. He went to go find Sam and yanked him into another room.

“Dude. It’s true. She’s pregnant.” Peter said and handed Sam the test.

“Oh shit. Are you sure?” Sam asked and shook the test.

“I already tried that. It’s true. She’s pregnant.” Peters mouth went dry as he said it out loud. It felt even more real now and he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Dude. This is serious. Aren’t you guys in like middle school?”

“We’re both in college. But still. I’m not ready to be a dad. I can’t even take care of myself. Look at this rash.” Peter whined and lifted his shirt to show Sam the red ring around his armpit.

“Oh my God. What the hell is that?” Sam grimaced and raised his hands to protect himself from Peters rash.

“A rash. Like I said.” Peter said flatly. “I think I’m allergic to my deodorant.”

“So use a different one.”

“But I like how this one smells. It’s called Flannel, see?” Peter said and got closer to Sam with his arm raised.

“Get your armpitt out of my face before I make it where you can’t have anymore kids.” Sam warned and Peter put his shirt down.

“What am I supposed to do?” He whined. “Mr. Stark is gonna kill me. And then May is gonna kill me. And then Y/n’s parents. I’m gonna die three times. Three times!”

“Yeah. No, I agree. You’re definitely fucked.” Sam agreed.

“What? That’s not helping!”

“I’m sorry dude, but how am I supposed to help you in this situation?”

“I don’t know. Tell me it’s all gonna be okay?”

“Is it? You’re not out of college yet and neither is she. Neither of you have jobs that can support a child. And it’s not like you live together either. Where would the baby even stay? Your crappy apartment? Or here at this tower full of nuclear weapons and glass windows that aren’t baby proof?”

“I didn’t even think of those things.” Peter realized and started to panic all over again.

“Clearly you don’t think at all. How did this even happen?”

“From sex.” Peter whispered and covered his mouth.

“I know that.” Sam rolled his eyes. “But don’t you guys use protection?”

“Of course. Always. Wrap it before you tap it. On god.”

“Well is she on the pill?”

“What pill?”

“You know. The pill.”

“Tylenol?” Peter asked.

“Oh my God. This poor baby.” Sam groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“What am I gonna do Sam? I’m not ready to be a father. I only had one until I was 9. What if the kid turns ten? I don’t have any examples of being a father past age 9. What am I gonna do?” Peter whined and shook Sam by the shoulders.

“She could get an abortion?” Sam suggested.

“Maybe but that’s not up to me. If she wants to keep this baby, we’re keeping the baby.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. Have you ever babysat?”

“Just Ned’s tomagotchi. And it died. Like, immediately.”

“Well lucky for you, Y/n is gonna make a great mom. You’ve seen how caring she is. She takes care of all of us when we get sick. And she gets weirdly excited to do it too. If you so much as sneeze around her she runs to get you a thermometer and a blanket. And she knows all the passwords for streaming services.”

“You’re right. She’s got this. I can learn from her.” Peter said and started to calm down.

“Are you gonna tell her you know?”

“No. She deserves to tell me in her own way on her own time.” Peter decided.

“I think that’s smart. In the meantime, you should probably hit the books. There seems to be a lot you don’t know.”

“You’re right.” Peter realized. “I need to know what to expect when I’m expecting.”

“Can I be honest?” Sam asked.

“Sure.”

“I kinda thought that between the two of you, you’d be the one to carry the baby. Not her.” Sam told him.

“No, I get that.” Peter nodded in agreement.

That night, Peter opened his laptop and started to research everything he could on pregnancy.

“I’m gonna the father the shit out of this kid.” He whispered to himself before diving into his research. By the time the sun came up, his eyes were red and glazed over. His hands were cramping from all the typing and his back was stiff beyond repair. He had spent the night reading every article he could find and took extensive notes. He shut his laptop when he heard birds outside and padded out of his room. When he walked into the kitchen, he saw you about to take a bite of a bagel with lox.

“No!” Peter screamed and shot a web at your bagel. He yanked it away from you and threw it at the cabinet, where it stuck. Everyone turned to look at Peter and he felt his face heat up.

“What the hell was that?” You laughed in surprise.

“You can’t be eating that in your condition.” Peter blurted.

“What condition is that?” You asked and Peter realized he had said too much.

“Um, dating a boy who thinks fish is gross?” He smiled weakly.

“It’s just lox. Try it. I think you’ll like it.” You said and started to make another bagel. He realized that if he ate the rest of the lox, you couldn’t eat any. He had read in his research that uncooked fish was not safe for pregnant women to eat but it seemed like you didn’t know that yet. Keeping it away from you without telling you what he knew was his best bet.

“Okay. Yeah.” Peter reluctantly agreed and sat next to you at the table. You handed him your bagel with the fish on top and he gagged a little. Peter the opened his mouth and shoved the entire bagel inside. He chewed it slowly and gagged every so often.

“You ate the whole thing.” You said in disbelief over what you had just witnessed.

“Uh huh.” Peter said with a full mouth.

“Did you like it?” You laughed and wiped some cream cheese off his mouth.

“Yeah. Yummy.” Peter said weakly. He turned his head a little and gagged loud enough for you to hear.

“Peter, if you don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“I love it.” He lied and kept chewing. He slowly swallowed the massive bite and made a face as it went down.

“Do you want to throw up?” You asked him.

“Yes please.” He nodded. You brought Peter to the bathroom and held his messy hair back as he threw up into the toilet. Once it was all out, he rested against the wall. He caught sight of the garbage can, the very one ye had found your pregnancy test in.

“Soon, this will be me helping you throw up.” He said.

“What?”

“What?” Peter said quickly when he realized what he had said.

“Are you feeling okay?” You laughed and checked his forehead.

“Are you?” He genuinely asked, wanting to know if you were experiencing morning sickness yet.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Peter lied. You found his behavior strange but decided not to question it further. You knew Peter well enough to know that this was just how he behaved sometimes. You brought him back to the kitchen and made him some tea for his tummy as Peter watch d carefully from his seat. He felt himself relax for the first time since finding the test. Now that he had some some research and remembered how good you were at taking care of people, he felt more confident in your combined skills as parents.

That feeling was confidence was shaken later that day when Peter went into your room to find you. He pushed open your bathroom door and found you sectioning your hair into parts with the faucet running. Beside the sink was your hair straightener. Peter gasped dramatically and yanked the plug out of the wall before shutting off the water.

“Are you crazy? What the are you doing?” He asked as he took the straighter out of your hands.

“Doing my hair? Is that okay?” You laughed in confusion and reached for the straitened.

“You can’t be using this when the waters running. What if you drop it into the sink and get electrocuted?” Peter said as he held the straightener up.

“I’m not sure it works like that. I think it the sink would have to be full of water.”

“Oh. Well I don’t know how hair straighteners work, okay? I’m not God.”

“Peter, you’re being ridiculous. More than usual. Let me straighten my hair. I have to go out tonight.” You whined and took the straitener from him.

“Go out where?”

“It’s Kate’s birthday. We’re gonna go to karaoke and then go to a bar.” You explained as your ran a section of hair through your straightener.

“A bar?!” Peter nearly screamed.

“Yes, oh my God.” You laughed at his outburst. “What’s with you today?”

“What’s with me? What’s with you? You know you’re not supposed to drink when you’re…” Peter trailed off and you looked at him in confusion.

“When I’m what?”

“When you’re on medication.” He said quickly. “Obviously that’s what I was going to say. I saw you take Tylenol before. You’re not supposed to mix alcohol and medicine.”

“That was just for my back pain. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go out tonight.” Peter whined and wrapped his arms around you. You stopped doing your hair and turned around in his arms to face him.

“Why not?” You wondered.

“Because…” Peter trailed off as he desperately tried to think of something. He only knew one thing that would be sure to get you to stay.

“Because I’m not feeling so good.” He lied and faked a cough.

“Oh no. You’re sick?” You gasped and felt his forehead.

“Yeah. So sick. Tony must’ve given me whatever he has. I feel horrible.” Peter whined and clutched his stomach.

“But Tony’s throat was bothering him. Does your stomach too?” You asked when you saw what Peter was doing. Peter realized he was faking the wrong illness and nodded.

“Oh yeah. My throat and my stomach hurts. And I think I’m getting a fever too. And my toe fell off.” He laid it on thick to get you to stay.

“Aw. Poor baby.” You pouted and pulled him into your arms.

“Baby?” Peter whispered in fear.

“I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll tell Kate I can’t make it.” You smiled sweetly as you cupped his face. Peter felt bad for lying to you but he couldn’t let you go out drinking if you were pregnant.

“Thanks, honey bee. You’re the best.” He smiled back. You took his hand and brought him to his room to tuck him into bed. Peter felt guilty all over again when you went to go make him some soup. He was feeling perfectly fine so your efforts were for nothing. You came back and fed him the soup, making him feel even worse about lying.

“I feel like Peeta in the cave.” Peter joked as you held the spook to his lips.

“Ugh, dirty Peeta in the cave is so hot. I would’ve won the games with the things I’d do to that man on camera. I’ll tell you that.”

“Wait, what?” Peter sat up and looked at you.

“How about some tea?” You smiled sweetly as you changed the subject.

“Can we circle back to what you just said about-“

“I’ll go make some.” You cut him off as you left his room. You came back soon with a hot mug of tea for Peter. He was already sweating under the blankets you tucked him into and the hot soup, so tea was the last thing he wanted. But he felt that that’s what he deserved for lying to you.

“Oh, no. You’re so sweaty. You must be getting a fever.” You frowned once Peter had finished his tea.

“Oh no. Must be.” Peter laughed weakly and discreetly fanned his face.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You said and climbed into Peters lap. You started to kiss his neck and he went into high alert mode.

“What are you doing?” He asked and gently moved you back.

“Kissing you?”

“With a suggestive undertone.” He replied, sounding accusatory.

“Is that a problem?” You laughed and bent down to kiss his neck again. He pulled you off and looked at you in disbelief.

“You want to have sex? The very thing that caused this?”

“Huh? Caused what?” You asked.

“The pregnancy.” He said like it was obvious. Peter slapped his hand over his mouth as you tilted your head in confusion.

“Wait, what? What pregnancy?”

“Your pregnancy.”

“My pregnancy?” You asked as you sat back on your knees. Peter sat up as well and pushed the blankets off himself.

“I’m sorry. But I know.” Peter admitted with a sigh.

“Know what?” You laughed in confusion.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, honey bee. I already know about the pregnancy.” Peter said as he took your hands.

“Wait, I’m confused. Who’s pregnant?” You asked him.

“You are.” He said simply.

“I’m pregnant?” You asked and pointed to yourself.

“Yes. You’re pregnant.”

“Me?” You asked and looked behind you for who else he might be talking to.

“Yes, you.” He urged and shook your hands.

“Hold on. Who told you I was pregnant?” You laughed at how serious he was.

“You did.” Peter said like it was obvious.

“Me?” You questioned and pointed to yourself again.

“You’re the only one in the room right now.”

“Peter, I never said I was pregnant. I think I would remember saying something like that.”

“That’s because you didn’t say it with words. You’ve just been dropping hints like crazy. The sore back, the eating of salt and vinegar chips-“

“Those are-“

“No they’re not.” He cut you off before you could defend them.

You stared at Peter as you tried to gage if he was being serious or not. He stared back at you as he tried to figure out if you were upset or relieved that he knew.

“Also I found this positive pregnancy test in the trash.” He said as he pulled the test out of his pocket. You took the test from him and looked at it for a long time. Peters heart raced as he waited for your reaction. Finally, you flipped the test over and showed him what it said on the back.

“This is a strep throat test.” You said calmly.

“What?!” Peter shrieked and took the test back. Sure enough, the back said “rapid strep throat test” in raised letters.

“Tony has strep throat. You knew this.”

“This looks exactly like a pregnancy test.” Peter defended as he showed you the test again.

“Peter, this looks nothing like a pregnancy test. Do you know what a pregnancy test looks like?”

“Apparently not.” Peter scoffed. You stared at him for a minute before cracking up laughing.

“You really thought I was pregnant? That’s why you didn’t let me eat fish or straighten my hair? And tried to stop Natasha from cracking my back? Which I still don’t see the correlation, by the way.”

“I didn’t want you or the baby to be in harms way. What if the straighter shocked you and the baby came out like the Flash? What if it just ran right out of your womb? Or what if Natasha squeezed you so hard and the baby popped out like a rocket?”

“You know shocking little about pregnancy.”

“I know. But as nervous as I was, I was also kinda excited.” Peter admitted. “I know you’re the person I’m gonna be with forever. It would be nice to have a little one that was a combination of the both of us.”

“And one day, we will have one.” You assured him. “And hopefully, they’ll inherit my intelligence over yours.”

“I hope so too.” Peter chuckled. You leaned down to kiss him and he felt himself fully relax for the first time in days.

“I hope you know that if we do have a kid one day, you’re carrying it. I’m not getting fat.” You told him once you pulled away.

“I don’t know if that’s medically possibly yet. Not for cis men, anyway.“

“We’ll find a way.” You shrugged. “We can ask Bruce. You can be like a seahorse! Or Cosmo from the Fairly Oddparents.”

“I’d do it for you, honey.”

“I know you would. That’s why I know you’re my forver person too.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. Peter pulled you into his lap and slipped his hand behind your head to deepen the kiss.

“So, now that we know you’re not pregnant…” Peter trailed off and played with the buttons on your shirt. You caught on to what he was suggesting and laughed as you pushed his face away.

“Not a chance.”

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@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade-blog @boogywoogywoogy @ciarahollands

[sapphire-writes]

Running On Sunshine (hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 3 || masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: You haven't spoken to Aemond. Tensions rise between the two of you and come to a head at the arrival of a disruptive patient.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: NSFW mdni medical terminology, use of needles, discussion around addiction (specifically alcohol, rehab, recovery), fighting, blood, punching, explicit sex (p in v) fingering, oral (fem receiving), creampie, praise, dirty talk, spanking, language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is! long-awaited, thank you for being so patient as my brain jumps around 😂 hope you enjoy it!!

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

It’s been a few days since your ultimatum with Aemond. 

No texts. 

No calls. 

You pass each other in the halls and avoid eye contact, brushing past him close enough that if you extended your little finger you’d be sure to brush against the back of his hand.

You weren’t going to chase him. 

You’d told him what you wanted. Told him you’d wanted him. And he had stayed silent. If that was the end of you and him, so be it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you inside. Watching him day in and day out walking through the halls of Citadel General in those stupid blue scrubs that he somehow wore like he was strutting down a runway not the hallway of a hospital. 

It didn’t help that observations often included surgeries he was a part of. Aemond was a model resident, often asked to assist the attendants. And he was hard to miss, always wearing his signature scrub cap with little dragons peppered all over it, mid-flight. You’d catch him glancing up at the viewing gallery, peering up over his mask every now and then. You never caught his eye, he was much too quick for that. 

“Switch with me,” you’d begged that afternoon after Baratheon had informed you of the plan to observe Dr. Cole’s surgery. There was no way Aemond wouldn't be there, Dr. Cole had chosen him as an obvious favorite. 

You’d been catching up on notes with Cory for the past ten minutes, the pair of you both trying to shove food in your mouths before your pagers inevitably went off. 

Labs. Observation. Notes. Scut work.

The never-ending revolving schedule of your internship. 

Cory reaches into her bag of salt and vinegar chips, clicking her mouse furiously, her brows pinched together in concentration. 

“I can’t,” she says through a mouthful, “Besides, you’ve already done this lab. If I don’t get these hours by the end of the week I’m about to take Jace’s place as Baratheon’s least favorite.”

You groan in frustration, letting your head rest against the keyboard of your computer. Nettles pops her head into the room, frowning at you both, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cory shrugs and you turn your head to face Nettles. 

Beep beep!

Cory groans, checking her pager, “Shit, I gotta go,” she says, crushing her chip bag and logging out of the computer before heading out of the room, “Sorry again, Y/N!”

You mumble something along the lines of don’t worry about it just as she disappears from sight. Nettles raises her eyebrows.

“McDreamy?” she asks, and you continue to pout, “Damn. Dick is so good we should change his name to McDick.”

“You suck,” you tell her, but you can’t stop your smile, “Definitely not your best work.”

“McOrgasm? I’m still thinking of one that truly encompasses the distress he’s causing you. Dr. Cum?” she makes a face, “Okay ew. Definitely not Dr. Cum.”

You groan, putting your face in your hands, “What am I going to do?”

Nettles walks towards you, slapping the back of your head. You lift your head, mouth open in shock, palming the place she slapped.

“Hey! I was recently concussed!”

“And apparently it scrambled your brains more than we thought!” she snaps, “See what you’re not going to do is spend your days moping over Dr. Sexy. I don’t care how good his dick was. You are a doctor. You are an insanely smart woman and you are in your internship.”

Nettles lowers herself to your height, taking your hands in hers. 

“He is very dreamy,” she says, her brown eyes empathetic, “But this is your time to shine. Not his. He’s not this important.”

It hurts---gods does it hurt---but she’s right. And you know it. You’ve been through situations like this before. You’ve gotten through things like this, and worse. Smiling at Nettles you squeeze her hands.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” she says, smiling, “Always here for a reality check. You’re the sun, babe.”

You smile back at her, “I’m the sun.”

“Damn right,” she says, chuckling, “How’s Cece doing?”

“She was discharged this morning,” you tell her, beaming with pride, “Just finished her last round of antibiotics and her labs are clear. I’m working on her note now.”

Nettles plops down in Cory’s seat, reaching into the chip bag she left behind. Her hand comes out empty and she frowns. 

Jace opens the door, looking rather sweaty and discombobulated. He’s been running around the most, trying to get on Barartheon’s good side. 

“Hey,” he says, out of breath, “Can you guys help me in the pit?”

“No can do,” Nettles says, “We’ve got observation soon.”

You nod agreeing, but become curious noticing Jace’s panicked expression.

“Why what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just…five minutes,” Jace says, “Please, I need someone. And I can’t find Sara and Cory--I just need someone, please.”

You turn to Nettles.

“The pit?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you, “Really?”

“Tell Baratheon I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her, “Besides, maybe it’s a good case.”

“Girl,” Nettles says, sighing and shaking her head.

“I just really need your help,” Jace says, leading you through the emergency room, weaving between nurses and patients, “It’s just that…I mean I didn’t know the other day but now…”

“Didn’t know what?” you ask as he stops outside a curtain.

“-- he’s back again and family members--,” Jace says, brown eyes wide, “We’re not supposed to work on family members.”

Your eyebrows concave together in confusion when suddenly the curtain pulls back. A man is lying in the hospital bed, a halo of platinum hair cascading onto the pillow he lays on. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, a lazy grin appearing on his face as he gives you a once-over.

“Nephew,” he sing-songs, giggling, “You brought me a present!”

Jace sighs, pulling the curtain from his grasp. Wait a minute. Nephew? Your eyes scan the giggling man as Jace snaps something at him. The silvery hair, the violet eyes. Seven hells.

How many Targaryens are there?

“Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Jace says, forcing a smile and turning to his uncle, “You’re kidding.”

His uncle shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “I’ve never told a joke in my life. She’s pretty Jacey, well done.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, at the way his eyes cascade down your body. You’ve never felt more exposed in simple scrubs. 

“Stop calling me that,” Jace snaps, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Jacey boy,” he croons, “Thought Baela had taken your balls when she dumped your ass--”

“Funnier every time I see you, Aegon,” Jace interrupts, closing the curtain once more. 

Aegon’s mouth drops open in surprise before he’s hidden from sight. You raise an eyebrow at Jace, folding your arms across your chest. 

“He’s harmless,” Jace assures you, “Please, please just help get him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s sort of difficult when we don’t know what’s wrong--”

“I know what’s wrong.”

You frown, raising an eyebrow at him, “You know?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking drunk. He’s always drunk. Just give him a banana bag, let him sober up, and get him out of here,” Jace instructs.

“How do you know he’s drunk?”

“Considering the fact he hasn’t been sober since I was eight years old, it’s not hard to guess,” Jace tells you, “He’s been to more rehab programs than I can count. Trust me on this.”

“I’m still going to have to do some labs,” you tell him, not willing to go against protocol.

“That’s fine, do what you have to do just…keep him out of the way,” Jace pleads, eyes widening as though he’d just remembered something very important, “And don’t let Aemond know he’s here.”

Your gut tightens at the mention of Aemond.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. It’s better for everyone if no one knows Aegon is here,” Jace finishes, “Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you do,” you confirm, and then Jace hurries out of sight, eager to escape the pit.

The curtain opens once more and you turn, meeting the curious gaze of Aegon Targaryen. You try to stop the scowl that threatens to overtake your face as he grins widely, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Ow!”

“Will you hold still!”

“You’re killing me!”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“It hurts!”

“It won’t hurt if you stay still, Aegon!”

Aegon throws his opposite arm over his eyes as you attempt to find a vein for the third time. He’s too squirmy, too anxious that as soon as the needle pierces his ivory skin he’s flinching away and howling. 

“I’ve seen children do better than you,” you grumble, and he gasps in feigned shock.

“They let you torture children?”

“Hush!” you insist, and to your relief, he’s able to stay still as you start the IV, “There you go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Aegon peaks over his arm, glancing down at the tubes as you assemble them properly, making sure the drip is even. He frowns as you release the tourniquet. 

“I bruise like a peach,” he mumbles.

“Sounds like you need more iron in your diet,” you tell him, walking to the other side of his bed. You need to take his blood pressure and begin wrapping the band around his arm. 

“Can I have something for the pain?” he asks.

“No, you may not.”

“Not even Tylenol?”

“No.”

“Hells,” he mumbles, “You should know, I enjoy it when women are mean to me, it turns it on.”

“Of course it does.”

“Mhmm. I eat that shit up.”

You’ve been trying not to look at his face for too long. If you look at Aegon, you’ll start thinking about Aemond. 

You’ve been trying very hard not to think about Aemond.

They don’t really look alike, despite the matching hair and eye color. Though he’s sitting down you can tell Aegon has none of Aemond’s height. He’s soft whereas Aemond is sharp. Their mouths may be the most similar thing about them, both awarded beautifully pouty lips made to be kissed. 

“What’s on your mind, doc?” Aegon says, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I’m very perceptive,” Aegon insists, “Come on tell me. What is it? Doctor drama? Boyfriend drama?” Your face must give something away when he asks, because his eyes light up, “Boyfriend drama.”

It’s no use, you can feel your face heating up, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off.”

Your head snaps up at him, and you remove the blood pressure sleeve. Discarding it in favor of your stethoscope you place the end against his chest.

“Breathe in.”

“D’you have a girlfriend then?” he relentlessly continues.

“No.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Hells,” you mumble in frustration, trying to listen to his heartbeat. 

“Please tell me it isn’t my nephew,” Aegon says, making a face.

“What?” you answer, far too quickly, “No! Seven hells, Jace and I are friends! And I do not sleep with colleagues.”

“Everyone sleeps with colleagues,” Aegon argues, “How else do you meet people?”

“That working well for you?”

“Oh I don’t work,” he answers, “That’s boring.”

You choke back a laugh. The man truly is ridiculous.

“Alright then. Well, you’re all set once you’re done with your fluids we’ll check your vitals again and send you on your way,” you tell him, making a note in his chart, “I can have the nurses reach out to some detox programs if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I understand a bit of your history from what Jace shared. But you should know, recovery isn’t linear, and relapse is completely normal-”

“I haven’t relapsed.”

You blink. 

“Your BAC was 1.06,” you inform him, “That’s more than a little buzzed.”

“I haven’t had a drink since Nyra birthed her last gremlin,” he insists, not elaborating on who Nyra was, “I’m just like this.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He could be lying, you know that. Addiction is one hell of a disease. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring into his violet eyes. 

“Your blood--”

“Fuck the labs,” he groans, “They always come back like that. I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t drank anything. Believe me, I’d be much more obvious.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t be so far away,” he comments, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, “I don’t know why this happens. I think my body got so used to being fucked up, it just does it on its own now.”

“You’re being serious,” you comment, and he nods.

It goes against everything you’ve learned in med school, and in residency thus far. Your pager beeps and you glance at it. It’s Nettles. You’re supposed to be joining her soon. 

When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras. 

You chew your bottom lip. Aegon raises a brow, already looking better with the intake of fluids. 

Fuck it. 

You quickly page Nettles, and let her know you’re needed longer in the pit. Hopefully, Baratheon doesn’t kill you for this. 

We’re going with the zebras. 

“Okay so I’m going to send the sample to the lab and see what comes back,” you inform Aegon, “And if you’re being honest with me, we should have some answers for you.”

Aegon swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Why would I lie?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re sure if you do in his presence once more they’ll fall out of your skull. He gives you a cheeky grin as he notices your exasperation. 

“People lie all the time,” you tell him.

“To you?” Aegon asks, snatching your hand is his, “Never, princess.”

You hear Nettles suddenly, her voice flowing through the ER and your stomach turns. Surely, it's Dr. Baratheon coming to reprimand you for missing observation to spend time in the pit ‘trolling for surgeries.’ The curtain opens then, and to your horror, it’s Aemond who has discovered you rather than Dr. Baratheon. 

His eyes fall to your face first before he turns to Aegon. His gaze drops to your interlocked hands. Something washes over him, his expression cold and calculating. 

“Out,” he says, voice quiet as death. 

Aegon chuckles, but you can hear the nervousness he’s trying to hide. You can see it in the way he wets his lips, the way he pulls his hand from yours.

“Bro…”

“Out, now,” Aemond repeats, “Don’t make me drag you out in front of all these people.”

“Careful now,” Aegon says, standing, “you know how mummy feels about you getting your hands dirty--”

Aemond steps forward, hands fisting Aegon’s shirt and dragging him forward. Your eyes widen in shock and Nettles yelps as Aemond pushes past her, dragging Aegon with him. 

The display has gathered the attention of several nurses and patients as Aemond continues to drag him through the ambulance entrance and out the automatic doors. You and Nettles remain closely on their heels as they exit the hospital.

Aemond releases his hold, sending Aegon stumbling into the road. 

“Seven hells!” Nettles says, a shocked expression on her face. 

Aegon laughs maniacally, bending over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head several times, like a dog before looking up.

“Go home,” Aemond says, flexing his hand.

“Where’s that?”

“Wherever you’ve been staying I suppose,” Aemond quips.

Aegon is panting, staring at his brother.

“I’d like to see Helaena.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Helaena!” he yells at the sky, “She’s my sister, I know she wants to see me.”

“You’re not shaking her down for any more fucking money,” Aemond says, his voice louder this time, making you flinch, “Go home, Aegon.”

Aegon wets his lips, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours. 

“You’ll call me? With the results?” he asks, and Aemond snorts.

“Another STI screening?” Aemond snarks. 

Aegon’s tongue pokes his cheek, an angry smile on his face. 

“Gotta make sure I’m all clear before saddling up with a fit bird,” he taunts, eyes falling on you as he says it, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. 

Aemond lurches forward his hand connecting with Aegon’s cheek. Nettles and you both scream as Aemond jumps back, Aegon spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. He laughs again, smiling with bloody teeth. 

“Get him cleaned up and get him out of here,” Aemond instructs Nettles, before heading back inside and leaving the three of you standing there.

Aegon’s lip is split, along with a cut on his cheekbone. He spits again, wiping his face and nodding at you.

“No boyfriend eh?” he says, grinning. Your face flushes. 

“I wasn’t lying.”

His grin widens.

“One of us is,” he says, referencing your earlier conversation, “Guess we’ll find out who.”

Nettles approaches him, and he winces. She turns to you.

“You should go see if he’s okay,” she says, nodding to the doors. 

You run back inside leaving Nettles and Aegon, your eyes searching for Aemond. Hurrying to the nurses' station, they inform you which direction he took off in. A nervous sweat breaks out on the back of your neck as you hurry down the hallway. You spot him then, taller than everyone else, watching as he ducks into an on-call room. 

Quickening your pace you follow him inside. It’s quiet as you close the door, besides the sound of a noise machine echoing white noise in the dimly lit space. There are two beds in this room; truly the on-call rooms are in such sorry states. Small twin mattresses with paper-thin sheets and pillows that may as well be pieces of foam. 

Aemond sits on the bed to the left, his head resting in his hands. You close the blinds on the door, flipping the sign that says “Both Beds Occupied” along with flicking the lock. You don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed.

“Aemond,” you say softly. He doesn’t move. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody. 

Taking a step closer, you watch his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he’s taking. Anxiety churns in your stomach, and you take a step back, placing your hand on the handle of the door.

“I’ll just leave you--”

“Don’t,” Aemond speaks quietly for the first time, raising his head. His gaze softens, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Please don’t go.”

Your heart starts to race, but you nod, stepping back toward him. Sitting beside him the bed creaks; you cross your ankles and place your hands on the edge of the bed. Aemond rests his chin on his hands, arms propped on his knees. The pair of you sit in silence for several moments. It begins to rain outside, fat droplets of water beating against the window. 

“You should get that looked at,” you finally say, nodding at his hand. 

Aemond merely hums in response, flexing his fingers. 

“Seriously, you’re a surgeon,” you continue, “What are you thinking, throwing punches like that?”

Aemond glances at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Your brother.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, shaking his hand. It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully. He could have done some serious damage.

“I’m sorry. Jace told me…well I’m just sorry.”

“It’s alright. Someone has to treat him. I’m sorry if he was inappropriate to you.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “We don’t get to choose how patients behave.”

“Aegon can be a lot. Take it from someone who knows him rather well.”

“Noted.”

You sit in silence some more. The sky outside has begun to turn dark as clouds roll in, the sound of thunder audible in the distance. A storm is looming.

“I’ve missed you,” he says so softly you almost don’t catch it.

Your hands dig into the side of the bed, your heart pounding against your ribs making your chest feel painfully tight.

“Don’t-”

“Y/N..”

“Please Aemond,” you cut him off, eyes watery, “Please. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he insists, turning his head toward you, “It’s just…Y/N that day I didn’t give you an answer. And you deserve one. I like you. I like you so much. You’re an incredibly intelligent person, funny, adorable, and…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. 

“And what?”

“And that scares the shit out of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I wasn’t expecting you. When I moved here I just planned on keeping my head down and then….then there was you,” he looked away, his eyes lit up in wonder, “I saw you in that bar, and it was like the sun came out.” 

Your lips part, your stomach flutters pleasantly at his words, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. He glances at you shyly, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“And then I saw you here and you’re an intern, at the beginning of your residency I just….I mess things up. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Or with you.”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, “Okay.”

“But…I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you,” Aemond continues, the top of his cheeks turning pink, matching his ears, “You asked me if I’m in or out. I didn’t answer, and I should have. I’m all in.”

“Aemond…”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds, “If you…if you want to give this a try.”

You smile at him softly.

“It’s all I wanted from the start.”

Aemond smiles, leaning toward you and connecting his lips to yours. You sigh against his mouth, as his hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you from going anywhere. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly accepting the warm muscle into your mouth. 

Your hands bury themselves in his scrubs as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. His opposite hand reaches for your waist, sliding down to rest on the meat of your thigh. He rubs soothing circles there for a moment, before gripping you hard and pulling you on top of him. 

You straddle his waist as he scoots backward, pressing his back flat against the wall. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, tugging your blue scrub top over your head, before desperately chasing your lips once more. Shivering in the cool air, your nipples harden in your bra. You almost wish you’d worn something a little sexier, the plain black bra making you feel underdressed. 

Aemond eyes your tits like a madman as his skilled hands eagerly unclasp your bra, pulling it from your torso. 

“Should we be doing this--” you gasp, grinding against the hardness between his thighs. 

“Yes, yes we should,” he says, kissing you once more before pausing, his eyebrows knitting together, “Unless you don’t want..”

“No! I mean--fuck, yes, yes we should and I want to,” you whimper as his teeth graze against your neck, “But I mean, here…” Aemond continues his attention to your neck, his perfect mouth nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“No one’s coming,” he murmurs, “You locked the door, yes?”

You nod, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, groaning as you clench your fists, tugging at his hair.

He catches your lips once more and you arch your back, pressing yourself against him trying to get as close as humanly possible. Moaning against his mouth he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating against you. 

“Shh,” he croons, brushing some hair from your face, “You have to be quiet.” He nips your lower lip as he says it, smoothing his tongue along where he bit, “Something you have trouble with, I recall.”

Your cheeks warm at the memory of your first night together, the puddle he’d turned you into with such little effort. Lashes fluttering, you look up at him as he admires you.

“You’ll have to remind me,” you tease, earning a growl from him as he flips you onto your back beginning to pull your scrub pants from your body.

Eager to assist, you kick wildly trying to get the soft material off. Aemond catches your right calf in his large hand, trying to avoid being kicked.

“Careful,” he chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to your calf, helping you out of your scrubs, shoes, and underwear. 

“Sorry,” you manage to say through your giggles as he tosses the ball of clothes toward the opposite bed, “We’re a bit uneven now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grinning, Aemond pulls his scrub top from his body as thunder crashes outside. The sky has darkened considerably and lightning flashes, illuminating the room. Aemond’s hands travel up your calves, hooking against your knees as he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Better?”

Your eyes trace down his exposed front following the planes of his chest, the chiseled outline of his abdominal muscles. You swallow, feeling yourself clench as your gaze rests on the outline of his hard bulge.

Nodding, you take your lower lip between your teeth, dragging your gaze back to his face. Aemond’s breathing is heavy as he sits on his haunches, eyes raking down your naked body.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathes appreciatively, “Gods…” He lets one hand move up your body, fingers dancing against the skin of your waist, up the side of your ribs to your breast. He explores higher and higher until with a desperate whine you reach up pulling him toward you.

You could kiss him forever.

You want to kiss him forever. 

The hand that rests on your leg curls inward, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh before inching higher. Your breathing has started to turn to pants as Aemond lets one of his long fingers part through your silky folds, spreading your arousal. 

“Seven hells,” he groans, swirling his finger against your clit, “All this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, biting your lip and trembling against him already.

Aemond only smirks, that familiar look of confidence in his eye, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you tell him, as the tip of his finger sinks inside of you, “Fuck-- just for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing further inside of you, stretching you out on his forefinger. A second finger soon joins and he scissors the digits against your fluttering walls.

You’re trying to be quiet---really you are trying--- but it feels too good. He’s too precise with his movements, too insistent on bullying that sensitive rough patch that causes your eyes to roll back in your head. “Aemond…I can’t--”

“Shhh baby, I know, it feels too good to be quiet, huh?” he says, voice full of mock sympathy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum really quick, let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod furiously, a choked moan escaping you as Aemond presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Moving away from you, he keeps up his relentless pace with his fingers as he slides onto his stomach on the bed. Your eyes widen as Aemond glances up at you from between your legs, a cheeky smile on his handsome face. 

“Aem----oh fuck!” your concern is short-lived as Aemond presses his mouth against you.

His tongue traces lazy circles over your clit, groaning, “Hells, I missed this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles, taking the sensitive button between his lips and suctioning around it. 

Throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arches, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. The rain continues to pour outside, the drumming against the window matching that of your racing heart. 

“Oh yeah, I know that’s so good, huh?” Aemond mumbles between licks of your clit, his free hand snaking upwards to grope at your breasts, “Fuck you look so pretty…all whiny and desperate.”

He curls his fingers as he says it, massaging the tender spot inside of you causing your pussy to spasm against his fingers. His tongue traces nonsensical patterns around your clit, his lips sucking and releasing causing lewd wet noises to echo through the room.

“Next time,” he murmurs a quiet promise, “Next time, when I’ve got lots of time…we’ll see how long I can keep you like this.” His fingers pinch your right nipple, tweaking it harshly.

Your belly tenses, muscles constricting against his fingers as he returns his sweet torture on your clit, and you finish with a muffled sob as you turn your head, pressing your mouth against your shoulder. Aemond murmurs soft praises, talking you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through your teeth as he slowly pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, bringing them to his mouth. 

You watch, wide-eyed as he sucks the lengthy digits, moaning at the taste of you.

“Turn around baby,” he says, sitting up, “Put your face in the pillow.”

Shakily, you turn on your hands and knees, before letting yourself fall to your forearms. Aemond slides his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine, spreading your cheeks wide. 

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, slapping your cheeks, causing you to yelp, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re an ass man?” you tease, looking back over your shoulder.

“I’m a ‘you’ man,” he argues, grabbing his length and sliding it against your folds, “Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” The fat head of his cock pokes at your entrance.

“Please,” you breathe as he starts to slide in. Aemond pauses, groaning slightly.

“Fuck baby, you can’t say that all sweet right now,” he growls, “We don’t have time.”

“Please, put it in,” you whimper, cheek pressed against the pillow, drool forming a wet patch under your cheek.

Aemond’s hand cracks down on your ass once more, “Be a good girl you little brat.”

You whimper, your begging ceasing as he slides fully inside your tight, wet heat. The stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to his thick cock. Your walls tense around him, pulsating around his thick length as he bottoms out. Rocking backward, he slides nearly all the way out before thrusting back in. 

Electricity bursts through your veins, pleasure crackling through your limbs like the lightning outside of the window. The force of his thrusts sends your face deep into the pillow, muffling the sharp cries of pleasure you emit. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, it feels too fucking good, the head of his cock rubbing ceaselessly against your g-spot as he ruts against you; he’s grunting softly, muttering praises all the while, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as your knees slide down, legs shaking so bad you’re unable to keep them upright, “It’s okay baby, just relax I got you.”

Your legs bend against the mattress, thighs splayed, hip flexors burning with the deep stretch it awards you. Aemond never relents, just continues to slap his hips against the softness of your ass, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

“Aemond,” you moan, “Fuck it feels--”

“Yeah?” he groans, “How’s it feel baby?”

“S-s’good, Aem, fuck, it’s so good,” you whimper, hands fisting the sheets, the bed shaking with every harsh thrust. 

The bed grinds against your sensitive nipples and clit sending sparks of pleasure burning through you.

“Gonna make this pussy feel so good,” he says, leaning some of his weight on top of you, his face next to yours, “Gonna take you home after our shifts, you’d like that, yeah?” His arms hold him up, propped on either side of your head. 

“Yes, fuck please,” you agree, turning your face, and feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Gonna have you ride my face,” he promises, dragging his nose between your shoulder blades, “Wanna make that pussy feel so good, till you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck Aemond,” you shiver with delight at his filthy words, at the promise of a repeat of the first night you’d been together. A promise of more. 

“Missed you too much,” he murmurs against your shoulder, sending warmth pooling in your belly, “Need you close to me.”

“I missed you,” you whimper, “Fuck, need you so bad.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, nearly whimpering himself, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, feel so good clenching around my cock.”

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head slightly, and glancing back through hooded eyes.

Aemond maneuvers himself, leaning to capture your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss as he continues to pound into you. 

“Fuck….c’mon baby, one more time,” Aemond encourages as heat winds a tight coil of pleasure in your belly, “Can’t have my baby only cumming once, now can I? Come on, that’s a good girl.”

The pitch of your cries increases and you slam your face against the pillow to muffle your strangled cry as your whole body tense, pussy constricting like a vice around his cock as you come. It’s intense, it burns with a brutal passion that paints stars behind your eyelids. 

Aemond’s thrusts become sloppier and with a few more slaps of his hips, you feel his cock pulsate inside of you and the warmth release of his cum filling you up. You turn your cheek from the pillow, your body tingling with the remnants of your orgasm as you suck in a breath. Gently, Aemond pulls out of you, peppering kisses down the length of your spine as he does so. 

You hum happily as he slides out, placing his hands under your thighs and maneuvering you out of the frog-like position you were previously in. Your hip flexors ache, but it’s a good pain--well worth being fucked into the mattress. Aemond turns you on your back, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“Hey there,” he says softly. The room is quiet, the rain has stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever walk right again,” you tell him with a content sigh, “but that aside, I’d say I’m more than alright.”

Aemond chuckles, thumb smoothing your cheekbone, making you lean into his gentle touch. 

“Hold on,” he murmurs, standing up, walking to the adjacent bathroom, and flicking on the light. 

You watch him walk away, admiring his ass. He’s got a rather nice one. You hear him turn the water on and a moment later he returns with a washcloth. Not trusting yourself to stand, you simply spread your legs and let him clean up the remains of your combined releases. Your hips jerk as he carefully brushes against your swollen clit causing him to release a breathy laugh.

Beep beep!

The noise snaps you both out of your post-coital bliss bubble and you hurry to find your clothes. Aemond reaches for his pager, desperate to get his scrubs on. 

Beep beep!

It’s your pager this time. Shit, Baratheon must be pissed. 

Both of you scramble, switching scrub tops as Aemond accidentally tries to put on yours, causing you to erupt into a fit of laughter that is only stopped when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a heated kiss. 

“Stop, stop,” you beg, pushing against his hard chest, “Shit we have to go.”

“One more--”

“You’re insatiable--”

“Oh I’ll show you insatiable,” he says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, “You just wait until tonight.”

Your cheeks burn as you yank on your bottoms, fixing your hair. Sex hair is not an option, not when Baratheon will be up in arms about your disappearance. Glancing at your pager, you read what it says before clipping it to your waist. 

“Okay, I gotta go,” you tell him, shoving your feet into your sneakers.

“Meet me in the lobby? When you’re done?” he asks, unable to hide his smile as you walk to the door on trembling legs.

“Okay,” you tell him, leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And we could get dinner?” 

“Anything you want,” he says, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, “Anything” another kiss, “At” and another one, “all.”

You hum happily, placing your hand over his, your entire body warming with his affection.

“I’ll see you then,” you tell him, unwillingly pulling away and unlocking the door.

You leave first, Aemond leaving a few moments later. Watching as he fixes the collar of his scrubs, you find yourself beaming. Aemond turns, catching your eye before turning down the hall, a small smile playing on his lips.

Gods, this is going to be a long shift.

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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[enkvyu]

HIII I HEARD UR TAKING REQUESTS!!! (I think if not jus ignore this) bf headcanons with geto plzzzz :( hes just a silly lil guy (I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OH MY GOD) anwzzz have a gud day :33

getou as your bf headcannons

thanks for the request anon, i hope you have a good day too !! btw ure so real he is just a lil guy ☹️ he isn’t defined by his actions (what murder?) he’s just a babygirl ! i wrote this for teen getou but then i thought might as well do a few thoughts on adult getou. i hope this is okay!

teen getou

you confessed first and getou laughed it off, thinking you just wanted to copy his homework. but when he saw you slowly turn red, he realised that this was the real deal. super awkward confession and you tease him about it all the time, professing your love to him every time you need something from him just so he can recall the embarrassment he caused on that day

in the beginning of your relationship, he really wanted you to wear his clothes and have it be a causal thing. but because he's nervous, and because shoko and gojo are bad influences, he decides the only way for you to comfortably ask for his shirts and jumpers was to wear yours first. gojo assures him you'll find it funny and realise that boundaries such as "yours" and "mine" will be blurred this point forward. taking his friends' advice, getou shimmies into your jujutsu uniform and knocks on your dorm door, posing to make you laugh. it's only when he sees the disbelief on your face that he regains his senses

the type to be looking at you no matter what he’s doing. you’re telling him about your day and he’s drinking water? he’s looking at you over the rim of the glass. you get called in class to answer a question you weren't paying attention to? getou is already looking at you, mouthing the (incorrect) answer. you’re comparing hand sizes? look up and you’ll find him looking at you instead of your interlocked fingers. it’s natural that he’s the first to notice when things are wrong, and the first to tease you

the type to smile when he gets angry and make a face that says "what (kind of nonsense) are you talking about?" he deflects a lot in arguments and never yells, but his low voice is honestly scarier

no sense of personal space whatsoever (blame gojo) so if you want to make a move on him, you have to be very direct. it's a double-edged sword because he'll be teaching you boxing and cover your hand with his to reposition your posture, and only you will think something of it. but at the same time, you can simply wrap your arms around his neck, lean in, and he'll break out in a cold sweat and a blush. he's simple in that way

a girl's kind of guy. he'll hand you a cushion or a plushie if you sit down wearing a skirt or a dress and if there isn't any, he'll wordlessly take off his jacket and hand it to you. always has a spare hairband around his wrist but he doesn't tell you that he also uses it to close off open chip bags when he can't finish them in one sitting. sometimes you do wonder why it smells like salt and vinegar

will take something of yours just so you can ask him for help. if it's raining, he'll take your umbrella so the two of you can walk home under his. of course, he'll be the one walking on the outer edge of the path

getou's a gym rat. wakes up chugs a protein shake (doesn't use a blender, shaking it super hard is enough). usually focuses on arms and abdomen and loves to show off whether it's through boxing or doing push ups with you on his back. objectively, he's really fit but there's something about him walking around his dorm shirtless just to catch a glimpse of himself being Buff that's annoying

thinks he can charm his way out of any situation (he can). he was praised a lot as a kid for being pretty and kind which led him to slipping out of situations he didn't want to be in just by smiling. he thinks the same thing can work on you (usually it does)

late night missions means sleep deprivation for class the next morning, and you carry the bulk of it after three consecutive missions. the next morning, even yaga winces at the heavy bags under your eyes. of course, it’s your boyfriend who’s by your side first. he does most of the talking that day and doesn't say anything when you doze off mid-sentence. he even angles his body so your head can comfortably rest on his shoulder and doesn’t say (much) anything when he sees you drooling. you notice that throughout the day, his hand is always hovering your back

extra — adult getou:

has the habit of talking to you like you're a stray kitten sometimes. there's a benevolent smile on his face and his words are soft, coaxing you out gently as if you were buzzing to flee. it's something he developed after raising nanako and mimiko, but it works just as well on you, too

he still does the same "what the fuck?" smile when he gets angry, but there's a sinister edge to it now, like he's waiting to see how far you can push it before he does something about it

an absolutely terrible chef. perhaps it's because his tastebuds has been destroyed by his technique and cigarettes, but everything he makes is either too salty, too bland, too spicy or everything in between. his culinary skills are fine, and his presentation is frankly award winning but take one bite and you're rushed to the hospital. usually, the two of you just go out for dinner or order uber eats

likes the sensation of someone playing with his hair. whether it's getting you to dry his hair after he gets out of the shower, or allowing himself to be a mannequin to your sudden desire at being a hair stylist, he's satisfied

still likes walking around shirtless or in a shirt that is half open (just take it off at that point) but at least this time, you also get a view. his confidence in his body has skyrocketed, and now it's one of the main thing he uses to get a reaction out of you. if you call him out for it, he'll just :3 "what do you mean?"

[cranberrymoons]

tis the season

prompt: platonic stobin (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 581 rated: t tags: road trip, bickering, fluff, and one (1) daddy joke 💀

welcome to Day 17 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

“If you’d just –”

“I told you, I didn’t –”

“It’s not my fault you –”

“Listen, Buckley, I’m –”

“Guys,” Steve says, cutting through their bickering. His hands are tight on the steering wheel, and he can feel his shoulders bunching up around his ears, and they’ve been trapped in this car for god knows how fucking long, and he just – “Cool it.”

Robin huffs, flopping back in her seat. “Sorry, Dad.”

Eddie does too, turning around from where he’d been twisted fully in the passenger seat to argue with her about whose fault it was that they ran out of car snacks a half hour ago. (It was Steve’s actually; he finished the pretzels when no one was looking, but he’s not about to rat himself out and face down the combined force of their snack wrath.)

“I’d call you Dad too,” Eddie says. “But that usually goes the other way around for us, doesn’t it?”

Robin makes a disgusted sound, and Steve catches a glimpse of her outraged face as she surges forward to punch Eddie on the shoulder.

“Okay, just –” Steve reaches behind himself, batting at Robin halfheartedly, cheeks going warm as he glares at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. “Chill. There’s a truck stop –” He squints at an approaching sign. “A mile ahead. Just hold out for literally one minute, and then you can have all the snacks you can carry.”

Robin huffs, and Eddie grumbles under his breath, and they both lean against opposite windows like a couple of sullen teenagers, but Steve manages to get them safely off the road and to the gas station without further incident, which he counts as a win. 

“We both know it was you, by the way,” Eddie tells him once they’re inside, wandering down a long aisle of chips, shoulders bumping under the glaring fluorescents of the convenience store. “Snack monster.”

Steve smiles, letting out a little laugh. He turns to Eddie, toe to toe in front of the salt and vinegar chips. 

“You don’t actually know it was me,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t prove it.”

“Are you kidding? I was present at the scene of the crime.” He leans closer, and Steve sways toward him, but Eddie just grabs a bag of Doritos from the shelf behind him and retreats. He shakes them in Steve’s direction. “These are going under lock and key, by the way.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

“Dude.” 

Eddie’s grin flashes at him as he starts back down the aisle in the direction they came. Steve follows, and they find Robin near the register, examining a rack of Santa hats with possibly too much intensity. 

“Buckley,” Eddie says. He tosses her a bag of Combos, which she catches in two fumbling hands. “Dude. What’re you doing?’

“Trying to decide which of these Christmas-themed trucker hats I’m going to buy,” she says. She plucks one off the rack and shoves it on her head, turning to face them. “Thoughts?”

It has an embroidered torso with ornaments for boobs, and it says Tits the Season in script. Steve nods very seriously, clutching a fresh bag of pretzels. 

“It’s perfect for you,” he says, and he’s only joking a little bit. “Matches your eyes.”

“Good,” she says. She takes it off her head and shoves it into his chest. “You can buy it for me, since you’re the one who ate all the fucking snacks.”

[also on ao3]

[incorrectbatfam]

Hey, I hope you're doing fine!

So, I've noticed that there is barely anything on Bruce and Barbara, so can we maybe get some Bruce and Barbara headcanons? (I'm talking about them as uncle/niece or pseudo dad/daughter or second father figure/kinda-daughter. The relationship Bruce Timm tried to shove down our throats does not exist).

Barbara offhandedly mentioned finding Benadryl Cucumberpatch attractive and the next day Bruce bought her five Sherlock posters

They watch black-and-white movies with period-accurate snacks, like mushroom toast for a 1930s mystery or French onion dip for a 60s thriller

They have a desk golf course and go 1v1 when they're bored or tired of work. One time Barbara flicked a golf ball into Bruce's ear by mistake

For Barbara's senior prom, Bruce and Alfred helped her tailor her dress to allow for a quick costume change if something happened

She invited both her own dad and Bruce to a father-daughter dance. Duty called at the last minute, so Bruce hurriedly took down a bank robbery before showing up to the dance as Batman. That's how the rumor starts that Barbara is Nightwing

Bruce gave both Dick and Barbara the shovel talk at the same time after he crashed their first date

She rehearses all her job interviews with Bruce

No one else in the batfam likes salt and vinegar chips except Bruce. Barbara, in fact, hates them with a passion. Still, when Bruce pisses her off, she puts on a brave face and licks all the seasoning off the chips let her be a little feral as a treat

Barbara took a pottery class. Instead of buying her supplies, Bruce gave her the leftovers from fights with Clayface. She made them matching mugs

Bruce kept apologizing about her disability so much that she wrote a letter she forgave him, framed it, and put it on his desk so he won't forget

She has a fish tank on her desk with rehabilitated fishes rescued from Gotham Harbor. They're slightly mutated and Bruce wants to run tests, but he can't get within ten feet without her threatening him with a pencil

He jokingly bought her bat-themed string lights when she went off to college. She still has them in her room

They found a popcorn machine at a crime scene and fixed it up a little too well

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, lots of shameless teasing by reader, slight exhibitionism, allusions to sex, teeniest tiniest smidge of perv! Steve

A/N: Inspired by the only scene of Cool Hand Luke I've seen. And that one short scene from Elvira: Mistress of the Dark. Just wanted to write something fun and a lil bit silly.

"C'mon sugar, chop chop - 's not gonna clean itself", he sing songs from the driver's seat of the BMW where he's been toying with the radio, scratchy static fading into a chorus of Scorpions' No one like you when he tunes into a station that suits his liking.

On a regular day a quip like that would have had you pinching one of his triceps, twisting the skin until he crumbled to his knees with a litany of pleas and apologies tumbling past his lips. But today was different because you both knew he was exempted from any retaliation. And boy, was he enjoying it.

Steve had been like this all morning, painfully smug, grin stretched Cheshire cat wide ever since you'd come over to make good on the card game you'd lost the night before.

It began as a casual game of poker over a few beers to make the lazy evening more interesting. You never played for much. The white chips were always worth 25 cents, the reds 50 cents and the greens were a dollar but he had you perking up when he suggested sweetening the pot that night.

"Oh yeah? what do you have in mind?", you'd asked this with subdued interest, munching down another mouthful of sea salt and vinegar chips, half expecting him to float the idea of strip poker as influenced by your viewing of The Wanderers earlier that night.

It wasn't unlike Steve to suggest something like that after he's had a few drinks and it wasn't unlike you to happily go along with whatever he's proposed after you've had a few drinks of your own. The two of you made quite a pair that way.

The last time it was skinny dipping down at Lovers Lake. A shared bottle of Gin bore the blame for the idea but by some miracle of intervention (or was it interruption?) Jim Hopper happened to be cruising by to put a stop to it before things could go any further. Nothing like the fuzz rolling up on you in your underwear to dampen the mood.

But last evening didn't take that kind of a turn and you didn't have to sit there cursing yourself for not having the foresight to wear sexier underwear for very long.

This time you laid blame on the beers and that one swig of sickeningly saccharine Pineapple Schnapps left over from a party the week before for impacting your judgement, agreeing to raise the stakes to include the winner getting to delegate their weekend chores to the loser.

Steve went all in, chips tossed into the middle of his mother's new and perfectly lacquered walnut table, too buzzed and wound up in the competitive tension in the room to worry about accidentally scuffing it.

You considered your cards for a few short seconds, poker face perfectly unreadable. A full house, Queens over Jacks sat burning hot in your hands, making you call, pushing your chips over into the pile with more care than Steve had shown his own.

For a moment, you thought you had it and he let you think as much, his pink lips drooping into a frown with his head bowed, hand carding through his hair to mimic defeat when you slid your cards over.

But the thrill of not having to spend half the day mowing your lawn and weeding the garden was extinguished after three glorious seconds. He placed his cards down quietly though when you read them, the impact felt more like a gavel coming down, sentencing you to a day of doing his bidding.

Four of a kind. Kings.

Shit.

The Schnapps and the beer picked that moment to start sparring in your belly, adding to the bitter flavor of defeat washing over your tongue like an oil spill.

And then came that smirk which hasn't left his lips since. "I'll see you in my driveway tomorrow bright and early, sunshine", he winked at you in that way that had you torn between wanting to flip his mother's stupid table and climbing over it to kiss her stupid smarmy son.

And now here you were, greeted by the same insufferable smirk as you trudged up to his driveway on a Saturday morning to wash his car, hangover thankfully averted and with a fresh outlook on the situation since sobering up. He doesn't know it yet but you're not as sore about the loss as you seem.

Strangely, you had Steve's porno collection to thank for that.

You figured him to be kind of guy who preferred a dirty VHS over the classic skin mag especially now that he had an employee discount to abuse but a few months ago you'd found out that you'd guessed wrong.

You hadn't let on about the time you went looking to borrow a pair of spare socks one nippy evening from one of his drawers and found a busty, definitely not a licensed nurse despite the uniform, smoldering back at you instead.

Unearthing the magazine from beneath the pile of tube socks it'd been partially shoved under, you quietly acquainted yourself with the ladies of Genesis Magazine's Girls/Girls Fall 1987 issue. Recalling one page that had been dog eared, you learned the nurse had friends who liked to get naked and soaked when it came time to hose down their cherry red Chevy Camaro.

Suddenly, having you out in the sweltering heat, working up a sweat and scrubbing down his beamer while he watched didn't seem like innocent happenstance anymore. In fact the whole thing made you feel a little inspired.

So you thought to yourself, why not have a little fun?

Granted, you weren't planning on losing your top and straddling the hood like the redhead on page seven. Not in Steve's white picket fence neighborhood of all places, but you did still have something less than savory in mind.

He didn't even suspect anything when you asked to go change into something more comfortable to hose down his precious car, your jeans already feeling more than a little uncomfortable since you'd left your house in this heat.

Another perfectly cloudless azure sky hung over the neighborhood. Too sunny and muggy and at that hour of the morning where everyone else was still inside. Some slept in because it was Saturday while others slept off their Friday night. Those who were awake were already in their pools or in the kitchen, cracking ice cubes out of trays into big, dewy glasses of lemonade, intermittently sipping and holding the chilly glass up to soothe their sweaty temples.

If the heat bothered Steve he didn't show it, one hand resting on the steering wheel, fingers tapping along to the radio awaiting your return. He'd been looking forward to this all night since his winning hand and nothing could sour his anticipation now.

But he couldn't have anticipated what he saw when he catches sight of you through the rear view mirror, his fingers fumbling, losing his composure quicker than if he'd slipped on ice.

You strolled out like something ripped out of one of his wet dreams, shoes swapped for flip flops, snug denim cut offs replacing your jeans, white tee instead of the teal blue you'd shown up in and hips swaying.

His mouth was agape as you walked up to him. "What are you up to?", he spoke in a voice thick with suspicion, stare heavy and darting all over you like there was too much or you on display and not nearly enough at the same time.

"I'm washing your car like you we agreed. Changed your mind?", you challenged him with a hand on your hip, eyes narrowed into a look as sharp as a knife's edge, daring him to question you again.

"No..."

"Alright then", you eased into a smile, more roguish than your usual chaste, bumping your hip against the driver's side door which up until now had been ajar, closing Steve inside. He lets you do this, something about the new clothes coupled with your 'don't fuck with me' vibe making him feel strangely obedient.

Everything you needed was already left out for you. A bucket, a half full bottle of car wash soap, a sponge and the hose nearby.

You start with the hose first, making sure to bend over to pick it up rather than crouch beside it as you turned it on, legs straight, back arched nice and pretty, ass popped out. You didn't spend that extra fifteen minutes stretching at home for nothing!

It's vastly different from all the other times he's stared at your ass. Used to doing it in sneaky glances in the past, Steve can hardly believe the obvious way you flaunt yourself for him now, afraid if you keep it up he might fog up the windshield all on his own.

Running water spouts out the hose and you're not the least bit careful with how you aim the stream into the bucket to fill it up, splashing your thighs and forearms, the sun making your wet skin glow glossy under its rays.

Number 8 on Billboard's top ten singles of the month starts to play on the radio but it goes unheard by Steve over the sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears, watching you wrap your fingers around the thick, cylindrical bottle and squeezing it to squirt soap into the bucket.

It's all so calculated and deliberately dirty, even though you try to play it off all innocent. You even plaster on a faux look of surprise when you stand too close to the BMW to rinse it, water splashing back onto your clothes, denim turning dark, white tee turning transparent...

Steve nearly chokes on the saliva pooling in his mouth when he notices that you're not wearing a bra. No swimsuit or even a bikini on underneath. He tears his eyes away long enough to quickly survey the neighborhood and when he doesn't find any of his neighbors in sight he fixes them back on you.

He should stop you, right?

He shouldn't just sit there and watch, right?

It wouldn't be correct to let you parade yourself in front of him like this...

Right?

Turning off the hose, you grasp the sponge and dunk it into the soapy water, pulling it out all sopping and heavy to wring it out over the bucket, purposely holding it close to your chest so the excess water can cascade down your front.

Nothing could have stolen his attention away from the way your tits jiggle in your soaking, skin tight tee as you lean over and put some elbow grease into running the sponge over the hood of his car in soapy circles. Peeking up through your lashes you catch the way his cheeks blend from a subtle mauve to a pretty fuchsia from behind the windshield, deciding you'd like to get a closer look.

He thinks he might flatline when you saunter closer and lean over the side of the hood. Reaching as far as you can to sponge the windshield, you're certain the poor boy's probably straining against his zipper by now as your wet tits press up against the glass.

It's so obvious and indecent. And fun. Getting to dangle yourself in front of Steve like this so unabashedly out here in the open, sticking a pin in that irritating, albeit harmless, cocksure attitude he'd shown you at the start, watching it deflate with a wicked smile.

It was the sweetest torture, watching your body clad in soaked clothes, skin glistening, the contours of your breasts and nipples so evident now that you might as well be topless.

"Can't fucking take this anymore", you hear him mutter when he reaches his limit and exits the car, hand finding your waist to spin you around. He uses the other to snatch the soapy sponge out of your fingers and toss it out of sight, letting it land with a wet plop on the driveway.

"I'm taking you inside", he groans when you lean into him, wet tits pressing against his chest, turning the front of his blue polo a dark navy, thigh grazing his bulge.

"Why?" you ask all coy, not ready to retire the innocent act without batting your lashes at him first, your lips only a breath apart from his.

"Because I don't think they'd let me live here anymore if they came outside and found me bending you over the hood, darling", he replies, a second before his lips come down on yours.

[bellysoupset]

ok max request

i know you said he has a pretty sensitive stomach that gets irritated by a lot of things, so what about him overindulging on something that usually sits well, only for him to start feeling sick after (i also really enjoy burps 😳😳)

Here you go anon! Burpy Max with an upset stomach!

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

"Okay, I want all of you gremlins sitting down right now!" Max exclaimed, jokingly glaring at the one kid still standing, "that includes you, Elliot. Sit your ass down."

The eight year old boy blushed and hurried to sit down and Max rolled his eyes, just as he saw Vince walking to the bus, with a kid draped all over him.

"Bus rules," Max raised a hand to start listing, "everyone wears a seat belt, no standing when the bus is moving. This includes when it just stopped in a red light. No sticking your heads out of the windows-" honestly, he hated the fact the windows weren't sealed shut, that always gave him anxiety after watching Hereditary - "no eating smelly things in the bus. If anyone feels sick, please call me up before you barf everywhere and I'll go get you so we can work this out. Ah, and use your inside voices, will you?"

He was pretty sure only 5% of what he had just said filtered through the kids. In truth, Max's favorite age to teach was teenagers, who actually listened, just opted for not doing what he asked sometimes. All he had to do was convince the older kids he was someone worth of listening, while the younger ones... They simply, plainly, didn't hear a word he said.

"Alright," Max sighed, turning around as Vince entered the bus, "nice of you to join us, Monacelli."

"We had an emergency pee break," Vince ignored him, not bothered in the least as he buckled in the six year old that was clinging to him, "you finished with the rules?"

"Yeah, we can go."

"Alright."

They were going on a field trip for the next town's science museum. It wasn't a long trip, only about 1 hour to get there, then they'd have a tour and a lunch break and come back before sunset. Still, these type of trips always made Max uneasy because so many things could go wrong surrounded by tiny, curious kids.

He settled down on his seat in the front, next to Monacelli. The other teacher was wearing a short sleeved polo, straining against his chest, and a baseball cap on top of his mop of black curls.

"You want anything?" Vince asked, not raising his eyes from his phone. Max sneaked a glance at the screen. The man was checking football scores, that made sense. He looked the type.

"No, just bored out of my mind," Max shrugged, glancing past his shoulder as the bus started to move and there was a general squeal, the volume increasing considerably. Field trips were never quiet.

Vince shrugged, ignored him and Max sat correctly in his seat, grabbing a bag of chips in his backpack. He stuffed a handful in his mouth, before tipping the bag in Monacelli's direction to wordlessly ask if he wanted any.

"Pass, thanks," Vince said, "still not feeling a 100% after the stomach bug from hell that you gave me."

Max snorted, rolling his eyes, "it's been ten days, get over it."

"Like you got over it?" The other man needled him and Max wrinkled his nose. In truth the flu had taken him out of commission for 4 whole days and when he finally managed to come back to the school, he had to take on some extra hours since Vince was down for the count.

And that was not even touching the fact he had to win his seniors all over again. Thankfully the bug had been harsh enough and he had a cemented enough position that he didn't become an immediate meme among the students, but that didn't mean they were cool with him again.

Max sulked, sliding down his seat a little more and continuing to eat. The chips were bland, because he wouldn't risk trying salt&vinegar during a field trip, since those always upset his stomach, and soon enough he finished up the whole bag, muffling a burp against his fist and crumpling the plastic.

Next to him, he watched as Vince took a sandwich from his bag and bit on it. Of course it was in homemade bread and huge. Max glared at the sandwich for such a long time, that Vince frowned and held it up for him.

"You want a bite? Or are you gonna hold me upside down by the ankles for my lunch money?"

Fuck this guy entirely, Max thought, scoffing, "I never did that."

"No, you just shoved me so hard from the monkey bars that I broke my arm," Vince rolled his eyes, "and for no reason too."

"I'm sure I had some reason," Max mumbled under his breath, even though he knew he really didn't. Twelve year old him had been a demon, smack right in the middle of his parents divorce and trying to get everyone's attention through whatever means he could.

Vince rolled his eyes, taking another bite and getting up from his seat to check on the kids.

The other teacher sighed, sliding further down his seat and crossing his arms to his chest, pissed off. He really didn't like remembering how much of a prick he once was, it burned a hole in his stomach.

Talking about his stomach... He could feel it pressing against his jeans, bloating up. He was the king of bloating, easily looking pregnant over any meal, but really? Over bland chips?

Another airy burp forced up and he blew it out under his breath, massaging his chest and cursing softly. It was like his body was adamant on humiliating him in front of Monacelli.

"We're probably almost there already," Vince said, startling Max, and causing him to sit up correctly. The other man slid in the small space between the front of the bus and Max' legs, so he could sit on the empty seat near the window, "no kid is carsick, we should count our stars."

"Uhm," Max nodded, scratching at his beard nervously and muffling yet another burp. He fidgeted on his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, "so why did you come back to Doveport? People don't come back here."

Vince shrugged, making a silly face to a kid who was watching them from another seat, then keeping the lighthearted smile on as he answered, "my family is here. I wanted to be closer to them. Besides, I like the town."

Insufferable.

"You like the town?" Max scoffed, then another burp snuck up, this one louder and bringing with it a hiccup that shook his whole body. Vince raised his eyebrows.

"You good?" he asked, not waiting for an answer to continue, "yeah, I like the people, I like the fact its peaceful."

"I'm-HIC!" The blonde let out a loud groan when another hicc-urp interrupted him, loud enough the kids sitting across the hallway from them started to giggle, "shit."

"Language," Vince said, seemingly out of habit, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "did you eat too much for your tummy, Daniels?"

Maybe he had a reason to break this guy's arm, Max thought darkly, glaring at him, "I'm fine," he stressed, wrapping an arm around his stomach and huffing as yet another hiccup shook him, "fu-duuuck."

He heard Vince chuckle at the switch of the insult, then a huge hand came to rest on his back, "maybe get up? It might help."

It wouldn't, Max already knew. Once he got the hiccup-burps, he was done for and it was really only a matter of time before his belly started churning and maybe nausea joined the mix later on. Still, just to get away from Vince, he got up and walked the hallway using the seats on each side of him as support to keep from wooblying.

Vaguely he thought they were setting up a terrible example, telling the kids to stay put and then walking all over.

He counted the children, just to have something to do, and then paused as the bus shook and his stomach flipped, going from unsettled to upset and sour. Max squinted, removing a hand from the seat in order to plant it on his belly and groaning as he could feel the bloat pushing against his t-shirt.

"Mr. Daniels?" a kid asked, confused as of why he had stopped right next to their seat. It was a little girl, with long box braids and dark skin, big brown eyes, "is your tummy sick?"

God.

"I'm fine, Jess," he forced a smile at the kid, winking at her, "what are you drawing there?"

"The dinosaurs!" Jess perked up, holding her coloring page. It was a bit messy, but overall he thought it was pretty nice. A T-rex in the middle of the woods. They wouldn't be seeing any t-rexes today, but oh well.

"That's so cool," he grinned, crouching down and immediately regretting it when the movement caused another burp to rush up, this one followed by three hiccups in quick succession that he could do nothing about. Jess started to giggle at him and Max' cheeks turned red. He swallowed some air, forcing up a thick, low burp against his fist and she wrinkled her nose.

"Eeewww..." The little girl whined and he blushed even more, his whole face ablaze.

"Sorry, sorry-" he grabbed one of her crayons, "I think your t-rex is missing a hat. It's sunny outside, is it not?"

Happily diverted, the kid turned to her drawing and studied it, "maybe sunblock," she decided, "or a cap like Mr. Mo's?"

Who the fuck was Mr. Mo?

It took Max a second to realize the girl couldn't pronounce Monacelli and had settled for the second best thing. He snorted, "yeah, give him a baseball cap-"

"Her," Jess glared at him, "It's a girl t-rex, like in the movies."

"Ah... Yeah, then give her a cap," he squeezed the little girl's shoulder, then got up once more, the movement causing the bag of chips in his belly to churn a little harder and the push up a wet burp that he muffled with a hand. This one he could just taste the potatoes.

"Fuck," Max sighed, falling back on his seat up in the front and folding in half, pressing his forehead to the front wall that separated the common area of the bus from the driver's.

"What's up?" Vince looked up from his phone once more. Now he was texting someone.

"I think I'm gonna barf," Max groaned, keeping his voice low, "how much until we stop?"

"About twenty minutes," Vince dug through the cooler that was at his feet, with water bottles, juice boxes, bags, snack bars - "here," he handed him a water bottle, "are you carsick or did you really eat too much with just a measly bag of chips?"

"My gut is a bit of a bitch," Max sighed, closing his eyes, "temperamental as fuck. I thought I was in the clear with the bland chips, but..." he trailed off, making his point by muffling a sickly little burp against his hand and shuddering when vomit splashed the back of his throat. He swallowed in, "fuck my entire fucking life."

"Stop fucking swearing," Vince whispered to him, "you're gonna startle the kids. Twenty minutes, alright? Just take deep breaths and stop leaning forward like that, you're not helping yourself."

"You're such a snotty know-it-all," Max glared at him, as Vince planted a hand on his chest and pushed him against the seats, "what's up? You're a med school reject?"

Vince frowned, "you're such a prick. Are you hellbent on puking in front of every class you teach?"

Max' ears burned and he looked away from the man, taking a large gulp of water, "you're never gonna let that go?"

"Not for another month at least," Vince huffed and then pushed the window next to him wide open.

The rush of chill air helped a lot, but Max was not about to congratulate Vince for doing the barest minimum. He breathed out slowly through his mouth, sneaking a hand under his t-shirt and pressing on his belly. It was warm to the touch and gurgling non stop.

"How much more?"

"Nineteen minutes," Vince said and he could hear the man's amusement at his plight. Max groaned, staring at the ceiling as yet another hiccup hit him and made his ribs ache, his whole chest squeeze.

The water had been a mistake, as it rocketed up his throat, forcing him to gulp down.

"I really don't wanna be sick in front of them," Max whispered, allowing a glimpse of vulnerability to the other teacher. He knew at least with that Vince could sympathize, "just- Do something? Please."

There was a pause, then Vince squeezed his knee in an amiable way and pushed Max's legs out of the way as he got up once more. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright kids, each one of you know the bus song?" he exclaimed, his voice all cheery and Max groaned, scooting so he could occupy Vince's now empty seat next to the window and shoving his head out, so he could breathe.

Now with the noisy bus, he could burp openly, and a string of belches pushed up, intercalated with hiccups, rattling in his chest. He let out a groan and spat the saliva pooling in his mouth, but the burps helped, a little, the ache in his gut.

He lowered his head to the windowsill, listening as Vince continued to sing. They had ruined the peace and quiet and the bus was chaos, but at least Max knew not a soul was paying attention to him, as he let out a moan and squeezed his tummy, urging it to settle down.

Eventually the bus came to stop and Max removed his head from the window, wiping the cold sweat that was clinging to his upper lip and catching Vince's eye as the man shepherded the kids into a queue in front of the museum.

"Thanks," he whispered, passing him by once they were all outside, "uhm- You can handle them for another fifteen? I'm gonna go hurl, but then I can take 'em."

Vince's eyebrows jumped up, a sudden, startled chuckle slipping past his lips. He nodded, "Uh yeah- yeah, sure, go ahead-" then his attention slipped away as one of the boys tried to run ahead, "Elliot give me your hand!"

[livingincolorsagain]

for @fiprobably’s prompt: Non-AU: Sam and Bucky going shopping for groceries. Except Sam is away and on video call with Bucky, who is the one actually doing the shopping. Them arguing back and forth because why can't Bucky just find that specific orange juice brand Sam likes and how can Sam want to get snacks that high in calories they're supposed to be snacks not protein bars and Bucky is so goddamn insistent on the canned peaches and Sam isn't having any of it there is literally fresh peaches over there—

Bucky doesn’t like grocery shopping. He hates it, actually. He would rather do the laundry, or the dishes. He loves doing work in the backyard, or cleaning up the garage. Anything but the groceries.

That’s why it was mostly Sam’s job. Sam doesn’t mind it, Bucky is certain he actually likes it. He writes down a list and plays his shopping playlist—because Sam has a playlist for everything—and he pauses his music to make small talk with everyone and gets a lot of free samples and freshly baked goods for it.

But Sam has been running a fever since he came back from his latest mission a few days ago, and despite the fact that he keeps saying he’s fine and he can do it, he actually can’t stay awake for more than a few hours at a time, and even going to the bathroom is an effort, so leaving the house is out of question.

Bucky can’t really hold off grocery shopping any longer. The fridge is starting to look kind of sad, and the pantry is running low on everything, and if Sam was to actually leave the bed and check the kitchen he would side-eye Bucky to hell, because Bucky, you’re a Wilson now and no Wilson household should look like that.

So, after he gives Sam his pills and checks his temperature one last time, Bucky puts his best pair of sweatpants, Sam’s old sweatshirt and his bravest face on, and makes the short drive to the grocery store.

It’s a random Wednesday morning, so the parking lot isn’t full. Bucky grabs a cart and pulls out the list. He’s barely inside the store when his phone starts vibrating. He pulls it out of his pocket, frowning with worry when he sees it’s Sam video-calling him.

“Everything’s okay?”

Sam’s face is half buried in the pillow, his one visible eye barely open, and when he says, “I’m making sure you’re getting the right stuff,” his voice is croaked and small.

Bucky snorts even as his heart twists fondly.

Sam makes a small noise of protest. “You always get the wrong orange juice.”

“It happened once.”

“And it was awful.”

“They were out of the brand you like, and it was years ago, can you let it go?”

“It’s burned into my brain.”

Bucky lowers the phone as he bites back a smile. “Jesus, fine.”

So, that’s how it goes. Sam supervises as Bucky goes from one aisle to another, arguing about every single item Bucky chooses, because no, Bucky, that’s the worst kind of beans and get the whole wheat spaghetti instead and wait, I can’t see, go back. No, that's too far. Go back a little. A bit down. Y’know what? Just take a picture and send it to me.

Bucky can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t forget the snacks,” Sam says, yawning. Alpine moews in the background. “Bring Alpine some snacks too.”

“She already has a lot of snacks.”

Sam lifts his head a little off the pillow and turns it away from the camera to what Bucky assumes is Alpine napping on Bucky’s side of the bed. “Daddy says no snacks for you, baby.”

Bucky sputters. “I didn’t say— fine!”

Sam smiles, burying his face back into the fluffy pillow. “That’s what I thought.”

Bucky shakes his head, but he can’t stop smiling, because Sam’s eyes are drooping and he’s fighting it. “Go take your nap, I’m almost done anyway.”

Sam stubbornly opens his eyes wider. “No.”

“I only have the snacks and cat litter left, there’s no way I’m gonna mess that up.”

“But—“

“Sam.”

“Fine,” Sam says. “Love you.”

Bucky’s smile grows. “Love you, too.”

“Salt and vinegar chips.”

“I know, Sam.”

“Just making sure.”

“I’m hanging up.”

He hears Sam laughing just as the call cuts off.

check out this post if you wanna send me a prompt!

[pie-of-flames]

Ringo's Fish 'N' Chips Recipe

From Mary Frampton & Friends Rock & Roll Recipes, 1980.

There are two closely adhered-to customs in Ye Merry Olde England—both Guy Fawkes Night and New Year's Eve are spent at Ringo's! It's quite probable that I won't see his guests until the same time, same place next year but they're guaranteed to turn up for these two highly important occasions. Guy Fawkes Night is the children's special treat, but the age of the "children" is extremely flexible! Ringo presides over a gigantic bonfire and a fabulous display of fireworks. An enormous party follows which becomes a competition to see whether the kids can outlast the "grown-ups." The kids usually win, of course! New Year's Eve is very special, even more so for a northerner from Liverpool. Certain customs must be respected to bring good luck to the household for the coming year. Everyone piles out of the house, holds hands in a circle, and sings "Auld Lang Syne." Then there follows kissing with gay abandon. Then Ringo, as the host, stands at the front door and welcomes each guest back into the house. Everyone carries a piece of coal and a piece of bread, handing them to Ringo on the way indoors. This is a sign that the house will be blessed with enough fuel and food for the coming year. After that, anything goes! Most of the time, Ringo is resident in Los Angeles. So it will be interesting to see what happens on those two special days in the future. I have a feeling that everyone will turn up as usual. Old habits die hard.

Ring's talent as an actor emerged during the filming of the various epics starring the Fab Four. Although excellent in their own way, none of the films were exactly "heavyweights," and although Ringo has had parts in several films since, I would still love to see him pay a role he can really get his teeth into. He obviously has a lot of untapped talent in that sphere. He's still one of the best drummers in the world and loves to help his mates out on their various gigs. An example of this was his appearance at the Band's Last Waltz Concert. Another was years ago. Ringo and Maureen (they were still married then) came over to dinner and I managed to cook something without onions or garlic, neither of which Ringo eats. After dinner, we all went upstairs to the living room and Peter [Frampton] sat down with his acoustic guitar and played a song for Ringo and Maureen called "The Lodger." Ringo loved it and said he'd be delighted to play on the track if Peter recorded it. He did, and he did! It came out on Peter's first solo album, Wind of Change. What a long time ago that was. We've all gone our separate ways but I'm relying on Ringo's twice-yearly dates for us all to get together again.

RINGO'S FISH 'N' CHIPS

INGREDIENTS

Fish Chips

METHOD

Get in your car, or walk, whichever the case may be. Travel to your local fish and chips shop and ask for cod and chips. Add salt and vinegar to taste. Eat with fingers for best results—I do! 'Bye.

—Ringo Starr

[evanspresso]

otp questions: evan and y/n edition

a/n: I didn't proof read this so if you found a typo... nOooOo you didn't... 🪄 🪄🪄

2. who sleeps in and who is the early bird?

She groans against the fluffed pillows as he pokes at her side causing her to jilt in response. His soft chuckle makes her sleepy haze relinquish some animosity she has against him, because she loves that sound.

Yes, he's waken her up in the early hours of the day, but she turns onto her side as she watches her boyfriend wiggle his thick eyebrows at her.

He holds the wonky mug he made for her when they went on their pottery date last week.

"Morning, baby" he hums.

12. which of the two rolls their eyes the most often?

"I just cannot stand when people say that. I feel like they're talking down to me or something." she says, flying her hands up in attempt to make his understand her annoyance.

Evan presses his lips together, nodding and humming along to her every word causing y/n to narrow her gaze at her boyfriend as she watches him make lunch at the kitchen counter.

"But, I also love when you put the mayonnaise on top of the sandwich instead of inside" she says, challenging his listening capabilities. "you know?"

"mhm" he hums as he slices her sandwich in half.

Evan reaches for bag of jalapeño chips and pours some onto her plate before reaching for the salt and vinegar bag. Y/n simply cannot eat a sandwich without both chip choices.

"Wait, what-" he blinks, holding the bag of chips mid tilt.

y/n rolls her eyes so dramatically that Evan pouts as he watches her small frame tremble with the laughter she lets out, bouncing off of the kitchen walls, making her boyfriends cheeks turn ruby red.

22. who gets more easily embarrassed?

she stood in front of the full length mirror in the hallway of his newly renovated Soho apartment. She couldn't help but stop dead In her tracks when she walked past it.

It was date night and they had planned on meeting at his before heading out. Y/n hadn't seen him yet. letting herself in she didn't see the harm in checking herself out once again before approaching him.

She had bought a new skirt and wanted it to look perfect before showing him. Y/n patted down the length letting her fingers trail down and pull the material down, noticing that it had ridden up her thighs more than she wanted.

"There you are, I was about to call you!" she heard his voice before she saw him leaning against the wall.

"Sorry, I didn't realize how quiet I closed the door." she giggled.

Evan shook his head at her 'sorry' and stepped closer to his girlfriend. He hummed happily, placing his hands against her cheeks and pulled her closer into his chest. Y/n smiled sweetly as she felt his lips fan against her hair and rest atop her forehead.

"This skirt is telling me we should just stay in." he nearly whispered.

Y/n's eyes widened up at her boyfriend and she yelped as she felt his hands roam down her body and rest dangerously low against her hips.

"No way. This skirt is screaming to be out in the village!" she blushed.

"That won't be the only screaming tonight." he teased causing y/n to groan and hide her face into his chest causing him to let out a loud and contagious laugh.

"Don't be a weirdo or I'll call you old!" she said causing him to let out a playful gasp.

32. who is the first to apologize?

The couple sit in silence as cars zoom all around them while he makes his way down the highway. His focus is on the road as she twiddles her thumbs and bites her lip to keep her from saying something stupid.

Y/n peaks over at Evan and frown as she notices how tight he is clenching the steering wheel and how tight his jaw is clenched. He has a bad habit of jaw clenching and she knows how much it will bother him and give him a headache later.

"Evan?" she says just loud enough to hear over the traffic.

He hums in response, not looking at her as he keeps his eyes glued to the road. "Careful with your jaw, okay?"

Evan glances at her with a look of confusing before opening his mouth and wincing, feeling immediate relief. "oh." he sighs. "Thanks" he adds.

Y/n smiles and rests her head back against the head rest. "I didn't mean it like that. You know I would never think that of you" she finally says.

Evan purses his lips but doesn't say a word.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean for what I said to come across that way." she presses.

Evan twitches slightly, his eyes breaking focus and turns to give her a quick, meaningful glance. "I know baby. I'm sorry too." he sighs, placing his hand on her knee.

42. who has the most self-control?

Y/n can barley hear her own thoughts as she walks hand in hand with him down the carpet. She can hear the clinks of the cameras and the buzz of people shouting and laughing all around her.

She shakes with every step that he leads her with and she trembles at the thought of seeing one of his affluent ex- partners. Y/n takes a deep breath after they make a quick halt and there in the midst of it all, she peers up at him.

His eyes search her features with the softness of his love causing the movements around them to suddenly disappear as he squeezes her hands him his large one's and gives her that million dollar smile she adores.

"You are doing so good, baby. Almost at the end." he cheers.

But, in the end, she would walk a million more miles in these heels for him if he asked her to.

52. Who whines the most when they get sick?

Her coughing fit ends when he places the cup of fresh tea on the coffee table. He looks down at her with worry as she shivers, removing her hand out of the warm cacoon her fuzzy blanket provided.

"I hate this." she whines.

"I know" he frowns.

"I hate this with a burning passion! You don't even know!"

Evan holds back a smile and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, I know!' he said mimicking her whiney tone.

62. who's more likely to buy some stupid NFT just before it looks cool? (btw I have no idea what an NFT is?? is it artwork?)

Y/n bursts through the door with the piece behind her back causing Evan to raise his brown up at her while he takes a sip of his coffee.

He looks at her questionably as she strides over to him and pulls out the artwork that she had hiding behind her back for the minuet it took her to slide her shoes off and walk over to him.

"What's up with you?" he asked bemused.

"Only the coolest thing to ever exist! I mean look at this." she says proudly, holding the frame out in front of her so that Evan could take a good look at what she was presenting to him.

His deadpanned glance caused her to roll her eyes and he shook his head and groaned. "That is complete shit, y/n. Please tell me you're joking!" he laughs.

Y/n glares at him and huffs out as she swiftly turns away from him and makes her way towards his office. "I'm hanging it up in here so you'll alway remember what an amazing and loving girlfriend I am for getting you something so cool and interesting."

Evan scoffs, "That's only because you don't have room for it in your apartment!"

[kate-inhaler-1975]

Apple Cider 🍎 🍂 // Matty Healy

A/N: A very VERY late Promptober No.2....I'm sorry 😭.

CW: Slight mature language and some hints of sexual activity, but you'd have to practically shut your eyes to see it xx

WC: 2,179 words

🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁

Amy would be lying if she said she enjoyed the concert. She truly didn't enjoy it as much as she would have if she had never met Matty, especially if he never gave her his phone number.

"AMS! COME ON, LIGHTEN UP! THIS IS YOUR FAVOURITE SONG!" Eve screamed as she grabbed Amy by the shoulders, shaking her vigorously to the beat of Amy's favourite song, Sex.

While Eve practically frolicked around the back of the pit, Amy stood still, bopping her head slightly while being completely transfixed by him.

His curls freely bounced as he shook his head back and forth, the plain white t-shirt hugging his small frame perfectly. He was hot, but also very pretty to her. Beautiful even.

She never heard back from him. She texted the number hours later. She even rang it in desperation to hear him call her love again.

But she got nothing in return. Not even an "Sorry, I'm busy, can't talk right now.". Nothing, she got nothing.

So, while Eve had the time of her life foaming at the mouth over Ross, Amy just felt deflated the entire night.

When the concert was over, and everyone left the Arena in massive groups, some people staying back because they didn't want to even begin comprehending that the night was over, Amy begged Eve if they could stay for just ten more minutes.

"Evie, please. I'm begging you. What if he gets someone to come get me, or he rings me back and then -"

"Ams, please. Let's just go. If he wants to text you back, he will, but let's not hang around here because we will get kicked out if we don't get a move on." Eve gripped onto Amy's right hand, sending her a sympathetic glance when she noticed how disappointed her best friend was.

Amy knew her best friend was right. If he wanted to, he would. He probably already forgot about her, and if that was the case, she doesn't really blame him.

Amy was just some baker with a large enough following in Ireland on social media and getting on with her normal day to day life. Where Matty is a rockstar having number one albums and touring the world, and probably needing or wanting a significant other that was on his level or close enough to it.

"Come on, let's go have a few drinks and get some food. I don't know about you, but I'm fucking hanging for a bag of chips with a shit load of salt and vinegar." Eve completely swerved from the subject of Matty as she pulled Amy by her elbow, linking arms with her as they walked back out into the cold and wet Dublin night.

"I just don't understand why he would even give me his number in the first place if he isn't going to bother dropping me even a short and simple text. What a dick!" Amy whined in dismay.

"Please, Amy Elizabeth Mitchell, I fucking beg of you. Stop talking about hi-."

"Wait! Shut the fuck up for a minute. I think someone's ringing me." Amy's eyes went wide as she searched for her phone that was buzzing in her small green handbag.

Her heart stopped beating for a split second when his name flashed up on the screen, her mind considering letting it ring out to return the favour of him, not answering her text or call.

"If you don't answer it, I will." Eve grabbed the phone out of Amy's hand. One slip of her thumb, and she would've answered the call.

"Hey! Stop! Give me that." With a forceful grab of the phone and accidentally jerking Eve forward with it, Amy retrieved her phone.

"Be normal!" Eve called out as Amy walked to a quieter area outside of the Arena.

"Hello?" She spoke in fake confusion. Pretending like she had no clue who was ringing her.

"Hiya, Amy. It's me, Matty. You doing alright, love?"

There it was. Love. Her new favourite word.

"Ahhh, hello! Me and Eve are just after walking out of the Arena. You guys were fucking amazing!" She looked down at her feet, trying to hide the giddy smile that was appearing across her face.

She felt like a teenager experiencing her first boyfriend.

"You didn't look like you had that much fun." He chuckled. He could see her from the stage because he was actively searching for her.

He looked as far into the seated part of the crowd as he could, but there was no sign of her. So then he turned to the standing area, quickly taking a good look at as many people as he could when the house lights came on at one point by his request.

And there she was, hair curled and perfectly framing her face with a black corset top and a large leather jacket, her tight black leather skirt with fishnets and heeled black leather boots.

She was a goddess.

She was mesmerising.

She was so mesmerising to him that he messed up the lyrics to It's Not Living (If It's Not With You).

"Wait, you could see me?" She gasped in embarrassment and shock, feeling so ashamed for standing there like a statue in a crowd full of feral fans (which she was once upon a time).

"As soon as I spotted you, I couldn't stop looking at you. That mate of yours seemed to have the time of her life, though."

"Don't tell her I said this, but I think she's slightly obsessed with that bassist of yours."

Oh, Eve would kill her if she found out she said such a thing to Matty.

"Well, listen, Ross is a man of his own. Everyone loves Ross."

"She definitely loves Ross. I can tell you that for love nor money."

The two of them giggled and chuckled like teens down the phone. Anyone who would listen to their conversation would think that they were totally in love and in the honeymoon stage.

"Amy, I hope it's not too late, but I'm staying in The Shelbourne Hotel on....is it Grafton Street?"

"No, St. Stephens Green. Close enough, though."

"Ah well. Anyways, would you like to have a drink with me at the hotel bar? If you want, you can bring Eve along with you, if that makes you feel more comfortable?"

For Amy, there was only one simple answer to that.

Yes.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Are you sure you'll be okay. You won't have a massive fangirl moment if he kisses you, and then you end up fainting or something like that?" Eve questioned one last time as she gave Amy a cuddle outside the beautiful 5-star hotel.

"I can promise you he won't kiss me. That'd be stupid of him."

"It would be stupid of him to NOT kiss you! Look at you! You are the sexiest and probably most fashionable woman to roam the streets of Dublin tonight! Now, go get your arse in their and make eighteen year old Amy proud."

Eve gave Amy a cheeky tap on her bum as she walked away from her. Leaving Amy nearly breaking out in a rash at the thought of anyone catching her best friend smacking her butt.

The doorman opened the left side of the door for her, giving her a polite smile and wishing her a goodnight.

Amy could only smile back at him and pray in her head that it would be a good night.

Amy had stayed in The Shelbourne Hotel before after getting asked to an event of some sort. She loved it, and it's interior, oh and of course it's history.

She adored history.

It was like something out of a romantic movie.

Meeting the handsome man in a fancy hotel bar, and if you add the rockstar part, it's even more unbelievable and movie like.

The bar, called No.27, was filled with casual elegance. The cocktails nearly sparkled in their glory while the neatly poured and precise pints seemed to be served with style.

Even though the pint of Guinness that the man sitting on one of the navy leather bar stools was drinking looked mouth wateringly appetising, the thing that shined and showed class the most was Matty.

He sat alone at the rectangular and heightened black marble table beside one of four large windows that faced the front of the hotel. His fingers messing with the condensation on the glass of his own pint of Guinness.

The kind woman at the front of house directed Amy to Matty when she pointed at him, the two of them walking towards him instantly catching his eye and snapping him out of his daydream that was about her.

"Hi." He smiled as he got off his chair, placing a hand on her shoulder as he leaned in to give her a kiss on both of her frost bitten cheeks.

"Hiya!" She spoke in a cheerful tone, returning the favour by giving him a gentle kiss on his left cheek.

"Here, let me get that for you." He quickly moved to pull the chair across from him out for Amy to sit on. His mind ran through all the steps he could possibly think of that made him seem like a true gentleman so he could impress her.

"Thank you very much. God, it's a cold one out there, isn't it?" Amy shivered as she took off her jacket. Rubbing her hands together aggressively, praying that the friction would bring heat back into them.

"It really is! Thankfully, it's nice and toasty in here. Oh, and I'm really sorry about earlier. I know it took me a while to reply, and I wasn't ignoring you or anything. I was just really busy getting ready for the show and-"

"Matty, please don't apologise. If anything, I should be apologising for coming off a bit needy. If, and only if you'd really like to make it up to me, you can buy me a pint of cider. Maybe even two." She hinted cheekily. Her eyes glistened with excitement and happiness.

"Cider? Why cider? I would take you more as a cosmopolitan kind of girl, but a cider drinker? No way." Matty teased, lightly kicking her foot under the table.

"Well, don't make assumptions about someone you know nothing about."

"Well, if I get to know you, then I won't have to make any assumptions. Will I, gorgeous?"

Matty lightly brushed her hand from across the table, sending her a quick teasing smile before heading up to the bar to order her a pint of her favourite cider.

The topics of conversation between the two of them were endless. Each of them learned about each others lives, their equal amount of love for music and literature, and Matty was fixated on her love for baking and how passionate she was about it.

He was completely drawn to the way she'd sit up straighter when she spoke about her job, or spoke about how her grandmother used to make apple tart every Sunday for dessert, or how it's basically therapy for her and she feels content and free of everyone and everything when she's in the kitchen.

"Actually, now that you've mentioned the whole baking on social media thing. I have a confession." Matty's cheeks ballooned slightly as he held in a laugh while thinking about George's excitement when the two of them finally found Amy's instagram and tiktok account.

"Oh god, go on. Spit it out." Amy cringed and tensed up in fear as to what he might say.

"George and Charli, his girlfriend, are fucking obsessed with your baking videos. He had a proper fangirl moment when he found out who you were."

"Wait! George Daniel and Charli XCX know who the fuck I am!?" Amy nearly spat out her cider all over Matty, her jaw dropping at what he'd just said.

"I'm being serious! The two of them were on the phone absolutely delighted with life. They're gonna love you when they meet you."

"When they meet me? Who said they'd ever meet me, Healy?" Amy held eye contact with him as she took another sip of her cider with a smirk on her face.

Her heart fluttering and an area further down south fluttering at his words.

"I guess I was just being a man and assuming that you'd like to keep in contact. Sorry about that." Matty stumbled on his words while trying to back track what he'd said. He was worried that maybe what he thought was a date wasn't anywhere near a date in her own head.

If only he could read her mind.

"You assumed correctly, Matty. I'd love to stay in contact with you more than anything. Might be a bit difficult, but I think that we should give it a go. See what happens, you know?" Her cheeks flushed as she felt a wave of confidence wash over her, leaning over the table to interlock their hands together.

Matty's calloused thumbs automatically tracing circles over her knuckles.

"How about I order us both another cider, and maybe we could take it up to my room. Just an idea, though." He spoke lowly as he himself leaned closer to her, their faces now only inches apart.

"You know what. I'll cheers to that idea, Healy."

[weridpersonhelp]

Casa Bonita 3

Description: Y/n friends are worried about her, and still worried about her gift ending up getting Kyle another gift! buy after Cartman ruins his birthday Y/n gives the boy a little Suprise to make him feel better.

Warning: bad spelling, not been proof read, swearing, shit talking, fluff sweet ending

________________________________________________

"Y/n you sure you're, okay?" Craig asks walking me to my locker, it's been 4 days now since butters has disappeared. I was more worrying mess, every day after school looking by the places he would normally be. hoping he would somehow turn up out of thin air.

"Yeah, I'll be fine craig you don't have to walk me everywhere. I can walk by myself." I say grabbing some things from my locker.

"Hey honey!" I hear Tweek crock voice shout as he hugs Craig, just seeing them makes me smile.

"Hey Y/n, you are doing alright?" He asks. me.

"Yeah, don't worry about me Tweek! does your family have any knew coffee flavours? " I ask him we continue to walk to class as he talks about the new coffees. we stop at my class.

"Okay where going to head to class see you at lunch.?"

"Sure, thing bye loser!" I say flipping him off he flips me off back as a goodbye and I enter class.

"Hey Y/n, what's up?" Wendy asks sitting next to me in butters normal seat.

"Oh, hey Wendy, alright, I guess. what about you?"

"Could be better, the student council is killing me honestly!" she chuckles I smile and nod along.

"I couldn't imagine being president, how do you do it?"

"Magic honestly! are you sure you’re okay Y/n?" Wendy asks again, I give her a small smile.

"I'm fine don't worry, a little worried about butter is all. Oh! I need your advice!" "is this still on the present Y/n? i though you would have given it too him already?" "yeah but he cancelled Casa Bonita when we found out butters was missing. I asked stan and Kenny what they go him and my gift kind a seems lousy compared to theirs."

"Y/n Have some confidents! the scarf is beautiful! it matches his outfit, it's his favioute colours, It's softer than any scarf I have ever seen! don't worry about how much money you spent on it. in all honesty Kyle's not going to care!"

"Yeah, thanks Wendy I needed some sense knocked into me!

"any time girlfriend!"

______________________________________________

"Hey Tolken! trade you my sweet and tangy chips for your salt and vinegar?"

"Hell yeah! I hate that stuff; how do you even eat it?" he asks me.

"How do you hate it is the real question." I say as we trade chips, Craig was holding tweak's hand as they began to eat their foods.

"H-hey Y/n s-s-something came in the m-mail for you." Jimmy says I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Deez nuts" we all laugh at Jimmy deez nut joke.

"Tweek would you rather eat a human sized bean, or a bean sized human?" I ask Tweek shoving my packet of chips towards him craig takes one.

"Oh GOD! is it a coffee bean?"

"it's whatever bean you want it to be."

"O-okay! I'd rather eat a bean.!"

"Nah dude, I'd rather eat a human the size of a bean" Tolken says.

"What?! YOU'D RATHER BE A CANNABALE!" Tweek shouts.

"m-m-me too I-'m not eating a h-human s-s-s-sized bean!" Jimmy agrees with Tolken which starts a whole argument. I look to my cousin flipping him off he does the same finishing off a popper of his.

"Here I'll put it in the bin, anyone got any rubbish?" I ask the group of boys. they all thank me and give me their rubbish I walk up to the bin putting it all in the right one's when I hear someone call for me.

"Hey Y/n"

"Oh, hey Kyle how are you?"

"I'm good I just wanted to ask how you did on your test?"

"Not so good, I barely passed I don't know how you do it honestly!"

" Don't worry! I only got an 83, not my best." I chuckle at his attempt to relate. to me.

"Oh my god! Kyle got below 90?! has the world ended?!" I make fun of him he glares at me a little before playfully rolling his eyes and he walks me back to the table.

"You know if you really need it, we could study together?"

"That would be awesome I just-" "Y/N GET BACK HERE JIMMY SEEING HOW MANY GRAPES HE CAN FIT IN HIS MOUTH!" Tolken yells out.

"WHAT SWEET ONE SECOND MATE! I'd love just text me the details bye-" "But I don't have your number..."

_____________________________________________________

Y/n had caved into her anxiety and brought Kyle something along with the scarf she made. It was a book of Minecraft the new game that Stan got. him.

"THIS IS THE GAME I WANTED! THANKS STAN!" Kyle rejoices at his friend's gift, Y/n felt her chest get heavier knowing after Kenny she was next. her palms where sweaty, chest is heavy, mum spa-

Y/n was actually so scared she was shaking, the two presents in hands. stan looks to her with worry.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, everything fine."

"Why are you nervous to give him the scarf?"

"Wait how did you-" "Thanks Kenny! this is super nice!"

"No problem!" it was now Y/n turn, it was time to know to pick which gift to give him.

"Here Kyle! I don't know if you will like it-" She hands him the bigger gift, the book. stan notices this, his draw drops slightly. why didn't she give him the scarf?

"Oh, a book on the game, cool thanks Y/n!" Kyle says, Y/n wasn't making eye contact with him though looking down at her feet.

"Alright kids let's get going!"

"YAY CASA BONITA CASA BONITA!" Cartman sings as they all walk to the car. But stan stick behind Y/n.

"Why didn't you give it to him he would have loved that way more than that book!" stan say as they get in the car.

"Hey that books to help him build stuff and how to kill stuff in the game! and because who am I kidding the scarfs lame!"

"No, it's not! Kyle would love it. it's a great gift! and you're going to give it to him when we get to Casa Bonita!"

"Yes sir!" your solute him, he gives you a small smile and you give him one back.

"You're going to love Casa Bonita stan! Y/n! there's this part where you can dress up in old western clothes. and get your photo taken in a fake jail!"

"Really?" stan asks the boy.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool." Kyle says cartman waves him. off

" "pretty cool"? so um, should we go to black Bart's cave first. or watch the puppet show? I think we should go through Black Bart's cave first because we're goanna want to do it seven or eight times."

"I think we should do what Kyle wants?"

"Yeah, it is Kyles birthday" stan says.

"What fuck Kyle!" the car goes silent at this, Y/n knew something was up Cartman didn't care about Kyle he just wanted to go to Casa Bonita. and after this is done, he'll go back to bullying him.

"HAHA JUST KIDDING BIRTHDAY JOKE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOO YOU-" soon enough everyone goes along with Cartmans singing, Y/n looks down at her scarf and sighs while singing along with them.

after a couple minutes we make it to Casa Bonita, it was a giant pink place like structure Making Y/n jaw drop, it was very big a pretty cool building.

"WAIT UP ERIC WE NEED TO STICK TOGETHER!" Sheila calls out, Y/n look to stan then at Kyle as she tugs on his suit a little catching his attention.

"Y/n you excited?!" Kyle asks me..

"Umm actually I wanted to um-" "wait boys! and girl I'm getting a call.

Hello?

yes.

"Oh, THATS GREAT BOYS THEY FOUND BUTTERS! HE'S OKAY!" Y/n jaw drops and the biggest smile was on her face at this news, she let out an intense sigh of relief and a small smile came to her face.

"I knew he would turn up.!"

"Oh sweet!"

"I'm glad he's okay."

"What did you want to say Y/n?"

"well-" "Yes eric carman is with us why? oh really!" Sheila face turns sour we they all looked at cartman.

"What?"

"Yes, I will certainly let him know. thank you. Well, it seems that eric here is responsible for butters missing. because he wanted to go to Casa Bonita!" Sheila explains.

"What."

"You Are fucking cunt." Y/n mutters

"Eric the south park police are already on their way here. to have a little talk with you!" Sheila scolds the boy.

"But... Casa Bonita"

"I should have known better. You never cared about my birthday at all!"

"but stand back!" Cartman grabs Kyle holding him hostage.

"Cartman stop it."

"I am going to casa Bonita!"

"It's too late Fat-ass they'll be here in less than a minute."

"I swear to whatever god you believe in that I will beat your fat fucking lazy cunt of an ass up!" Y/n shouts pounding her fist with her hand, Cartman throws Kyle to the ground Y/n and Kenny quickly going to his side to help him up and like that you all give in chase to the boy, all around the place. when the police finally get him, Kyle could only sigh. we went back to the main entrance and got our table and sat down, we got back to celebrating Kyles birthday though something seemed off, Kyle was quiet and seem sad about the whole thing.

" Are you alright Kyle?" "Yes, it's just. I should of know better than to trust that fat-ass!"

"I'm sorry that Cartman ruined your birthday, Kyle."

"it's fine it's not your fault." Kyle says leaning on one hand, Stan nudges my shoulder and looks to my pocket and Kyle.

"Well, Kyle I hope you're okay with one more Suprise for the day."

"Huh?"

"Happy birthday Kyle." Y/n places a small rectangular box Infront of the boy, its ribbon was green the box was black.

"Y/n You didn't have too"

"Just open it already!" Kenny complains, Kyle does what his friend says and slowly opens the box to reveal stipes of orange and green. he picks the thing up only for it to dangle down. it was a scarf.

"I made it myself and made sure not to add the little puffy things you said that where annoying you with your other one. The material very soft as well you see-" "can you help me put it on?" Y/n smiles and helps Wrape the scarf around him helping him put it on, I could hear Kenny and stand giggling like little girls in the background.

"Thanks... I love it."

"wooow did you make that yourself, you're a very crafty girl Y/n."

"thank you ma'am!"

"let's dig in!'

"yeah!"

I could already feel the I told you so everyone will be screaming when I got home, but we enjoyed the rest of the night, eating so much Mexican food along with cake we all passed out.

"I swear to go if these two don't get together soon-" stan says on the car ride home, Kyle and Y/n laying on each other dead asleep.

"For real."

____________________________________

okay I'm done if you want head cannons or like an actually proper series then just ask fr.

tags @naeyonie @luujjvi @leedesu

[cevansbrat0007]

https://youtu.be/-KDS_NuXYHI

This is how I’d imagine Andy and jr ngl

Summary: Don't ever ask Andy about his business...

Warnings: Fluff, Girl!Dad Andy, Shady A.J., Cursing, Shenanigans, Brief Talk of Murder, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

You're heading into the kitchen in search of an afternoon snack when you almost collide with your son, A.J. At thirteen-years-old, he's already a good head taller than your 5"2 frame. The boy was growing like a weed – with no signs of slowing down. At this rate he was going to be taller than Andy by the time he hit sixteen. 

“Woah!” He , grabbing your arm in an attempt to steady you. “You really gotta start watching how you take those corners, Mom. I really thought you were about to run me over.”

“Sorry, honey. I was on a mission – need something yummy to tide me over until dinner. Preferably something crunchy.” You tell him before shaking off his hold so that you can wrap an arm around his shoulders. “We got anything good in here?”

“Probably not. RoRo ate the last of the potato chips last night.” He answers as he follows you back into the kitchen towards the pantry.

Well, that was disappointing. You’d kind of had your heart set on some salt and vinegar kettle chips. “That’s alright.” Sighing, you begin to rifle through the cupboards. 

Maybe you’d munch on a few sourdough pretzel bites instead. 

“Looking for the pretzels?” 

“Uh huh.” You turn to stare at him over your shoulder. “Why? Don’t tell me those are gone too?”

“Yep.” He confirms. “Dad and KitCat polished ‘em off a couple days ago.”

“Seriously?” You grunt. “But everyone knows that the ones with the honey mustard seasonings are my favorite! And they still ate them?” 

Wasn’t family supposed to love you enough not to eat your shit? Wasn’t that, like, a cardinal rule or something?

“Mom…I really hate to break it to you, but…” A.J. leans over to rest his forearms on the island, his expressive hazel eyes dancing with mischief. “We’re living with a bunch of heathens. And at this point, I really think they’re beyond help. They’re way too far gone.”

Now that makes you laugh.

“You’re probably just saying that because they didn’t offer you any.” You’re still chuckling as you decide to try your luck with some hummus and carrots you’d stashed in the back of the fridge.

“They were incredibly rude. Katrina flat out told me that hoped she offended my “delicate sensibilities”.” He grumbles with a snort. “And then she got mad when I asked her how many cats she planned on living with when she moved out after college.”

“Bet she didn’t like that one very much.” You mutter as you decide against the carrots in favor of some garlic pita bread. 

“She didn’t. Even called me a few choice names that I’d rather not repeat. Mostly because I can’t pronounce them. And I refuse to look them up.” He sniffs, turning up his nose in mock outrage. “I told her that if she wants to insult her baby brother, then she needs to do it like a normal person.” 

“Right…I’ll, uh, ask your sister to stop using the dictionary to insult you the next time I see her.” You dip a chunk of pita into your hummus before popping it in your mouth. Shit was good.

“Thank you! She’s worse than BiBi now.” 

A.J. tries to steal a piece of your snack, only to pout when you slap his hand away. You boy was seriously starting to resemble Andy more and more these days, from their facial expressions to their shared mannerisms. Sometimes it was downright scary.

“You’re welcome, darling.” You’re about to shovel another bite of food into your mouth when a thought strikes you. “Mm! Speaking of Bianca, I thought she said her boyfriend was gonna stop by."

"He did." He grunts with a shrug.

That’s…odd. You think. You hadn’t heard the door while you were upstairs. And even though you’d been laying down, it wasn’t like you’d been sleeping or anything.  

"What? When?" You cough as you choke down a piece of bread. 

“Eh, probably about thirty minutes ago.” Comes your son’s noncommittal response. “I caught him before he could ring the bell."

And now you were doubly confused. Because A.J. never really seemed to care about the boys his sisters brought around. In fact, he mostly ignored them unless they brought food or wanted to talk about video games. Otherwise, he just stared at them without blinking until his foe got too uncomfortable.

"Good thing you were by the door, I guess.” You motion for him to hand you a bottle of water sitting on the edge of the counter so that you can wash down your snack. “But where is he now?"

Another shrug. And then he looks off in the direction of the yard. 

“Dad took him out back. Might’ve said something about wanting to show him the new shed."

“But A.J., sweetheart, we’ve had that shed for over a year now.” Okay, you were officially confused. What wasn’t he telling you? And where was BiBi’s boyfriend?

“It’s new to Eddie.” He looks back at you with unrepentant eyes before striding over to the refrigerator to grab himself a couple of black cherry sodas.  

“Could’ve sworn his name was Everett, but –” You force yourself to stop and think about what your son just said. “Wait a minute! Why the hell did your father take him back there?” You quickly reach for a paper towel to wipe your hands. 

This was not good. 

“Honestly, mom…” A.J. pauses to crack open his drink. “It's best if you don't know. Dad says plausible deniability is always the way to go in these kinds of situations.” He takes a deep pull from the can before letting out a small burp. “Sorry.”

Your feelings of concern were slowly morphing into panic. 

"W-what situation? What happened with your Dad and Everett?" You look and sound as if you’re prepared to shake somebody, which prompts him to take several steps away from you. Your son was smart enough to know to keep himself out of snatching distance. 

“A word to the wise, mother. Never ask us about our business." With that, he spins on his heel prepared to walk away. “This conversation never happened."

Of course Andy picks that particular moment to join both you and your boy in the kitchen, draping a heavy arm atop his shoulder. By all appearances, he looks like he’s been busy toiling in the yard. And he’s rocking the dirty smudges to prove it.  

“Andrew – what is going on?" Your wide eyes flit back and forth between your husband and son, waiting for one of them to break. “And where is Everett?” 

“I tried to tell her, Dad.” Your son murmurs. Without missing a beat, A.J. hands his father the other unopened can of soda, which he graciously accepts. 

“I know, son. And it’s nothing, sweetheart. BiBi’s friend, Elliott, just stopped by to tell us that he’s gonna have to miss our barbecue on the seventeenth. Something about choosing to study abroad in Russia. Nice kid. Sent him along with well wishes to his family and prayers for a safe flight.” He offers you a one armed shrug coupled with an all-too innocent grin, letting you know that he’s over this entire conversation.

“But why would you –?” Shit. “I thought he was gonna spend the summer working for his Uncle in Salem? What did you do to him?” 

Just how much damage control were you going to have to do here?

Andy clears his throat as he sips his soda. “Listen to the boy.” He gives A.J.’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “And please, my love, don’t ever ask us about our business.”

“But I thought…” You look away for a second, squinting at your sock covered feet while you collect your thoughts and puzzle this out. “Why would you –?” 

You turn back to them, only to discover that they’re long gone. Groaning, you fetch some tylenol from a nearby cabinet and toss it back. And then you go off to find your shoes. 

Time to check the backyard. 

As long as that poor young man wasn’t somewhere buried in your garden, you’d leave your Barber Boys to their freaking business. But until then, well…

Your family might as well start calling you Nancy fucking Drew.

END

[andvys]

Can you write some tattoo kiss Cheer! headcanons? Like the ones you wrote with Steve and Eds, but with things that she likes? Pleaseee? 🥺🩷 (Obviously if you want to!)

-🩷

OH yes! I love that!

She is a major bookworm, and has always been one. As a kid she would get herself a new book, her favorite snack and would spend her afternoons in the treehouse in her backyard reading whenever she wasn't with Steve.

She loved to bake but lost the joy in it when Steve left, so she started looking for new things that would bring her joy.

She loves shopping, especially with friends. And she will always splurge and spoil herself a little, no matter what store she walks into, she will always get herself something, whether it's a new nailpolish, new rings, make up or a new shirt, she always gets something for herself.

She loves movie nights and nights in, in general. She actually always preferred it more than going out.

She tried sketching but always hated they way it turned out so she preferred to peek at whatever Eddie was sketching (even though he always thought that she never saw or paid attention to him). But they oftentimes sat next to each other in class and she would admire his drawing skills.

She never knew what she wanted to become and always left her plans for the future open. She really wanted to go to college with Steve though.

She always wanted to wear heavy make up, leather jackets, darker clothes and style her hair differentely but never felt comfortable to do so until she met Eddie. (now she looks like a rockstars girlfriend hehe)

She seems very fragile and soft to others but there is more to her. So much more. There is a side of her that Steve doesn't even know. Oops.

She loves music. She could never live a day without music. When she's not blasting music through the house, then she's definitely wearing headphones and listening to The Smiths or The Cure, Depeche Mode etc. Now she also listens to Rock and Heavy Metal, thanks to Eddie.

She's accompanied Eddie to his campaigns before and the kids loved her -- Lucas dragged Max to one of the campaigns too, that's how Cheer and Max met and they hit it off right away.

Eddie jokinigly calls her his 'groupie', while his friends call her his 'girlfriend' something that both him and Cheer always blush at.

She always made mixtapes for Steve, now Eddie makes mixtapes for her :')

She never lost her joy in writing notes for the people she loves. Steve wasn't the only one who received notes from her. Chrissy and Heather always got some too. Robin did too, they would oftentimes pass silly notes back and forth during classes. And Eddie of course, she always leaves notes around the trailer for him to find.

She likes to braid Eddie's hair, he always lets her but tells her that she is the only one who's allowed to touch his hair.

The rings that Eddie gave to her a holy to her.

She misses Steve and the friendship that they used to have.

She calls Eddie her angel and he thinks she's joking, she's really not. He saved her <3

Oh. Her favorite snacks are M&M's and Doritos. She also loves to dip her french fries into vanilla milkshakes (@taintedcigs please don't hate my lovely cheer. she hates salt&vinegar chips just as much as you do, at least... so yay)

[blackbat05]

Changed Fortune

Adam Warlock x F!Reader (Modern AU)

Plot: You get your heart broken and find yourself reaching out to your closest friend who takes this opportunity to tell you what was on his mind all this while.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Cheers to Will’s special appearance on ‘The Bear’ as a chef for giving me ideas! Been obsessed with modern au lately. For @the-slumberparty monthly challenge! (Items: Sun Dress, Festival) Reblogs always appreciated!💜

Again.

Why do you always make the worst choices that involved negatively affecting your emotional well-being?

You had just dumped your boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend) after spotting him with a group of girls decked in high end clothing and a cake full of makeup on their faces pressing against him. He had seen you from afar and you find yourself in the middle of a rainy evening, attempting to get away from him.

Body on autopilot, you racked your brain for places to make your getaway. First, you needed a taxi. Praise the stars for once today as a yellow one rolls up the sidewalk. You don’t even bother hearing the rest of his pleas as you slammed the door, telling the driver to take off immediately.

“Where to Miss?” The driver, an elderly man with wispy white hair stares at you through the rear view sympathetically. You pause, trying to figure out the next step. Raindrops hitting the bonnet of the taxi, it was if everything clicked into place.

“The Warlock please.”

***

“There you go, one fish and chips with extra vinegar and salt.” Adam serves the dish to another regular customer who slaps a twenty on the counter.

“One day, you’re going to have to answer to Elsie why I’m out of the house every Thursday evening, rain or shine.” The man receives his change.

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that Bart. Elsie is a lovely woman but I wouldn’t want to be her enemy. She’s a real firecracker.”

Bart laughs. “That you are right.” He hobbles away, off to find a seat in the crowd. Adam chuckles, cleaning the silverware. A buzz on his thigh alerted Adam of a call. Carefully fishing his phone out with wet hands, he places it on his ear.

“Y/N?”

"Hey." You choked, trying to keep a lid on your emotions. "Sorry, I know you must be busy."

Adam frowns. "It's alright. The crowd's more or less settled in. Are you alright?" Despite talking over the phone, Adam's instincts are as sharp as a razor. Hearing the concern in his voice, you had to take a deep breath to not burst out crying in the taxi. No, you will not cry for a jerk. Instead, you asked. "Do you mind if I come over?"

"Yeah, of course. We got fish and chips today."

"Do you think you could throw in a beer as well?"

***

"That twit. No, what a bloody arsehole." Adam huffs in indignation. "You were too good for him Y/N."

A part of you thought that Adam was merely saying this to cheer you up, but his golden locks that were ruffled by the time you had finished telling him what happened and his blazing eyes that could kill the fish that you were having again told you otherwise.

"I appreciate you getting mad for me Adam, but I've decided that I don't want to think about that slimeball anymore."

Adam pauses whatever diabolical revenge plan he had in his mind and nods. "I'm glad. Which also reminds me of something." He goes behind the counter and extracts two tickets from the cashier much to your curiosity.

"I have two tickets to the world food festival happening at the end of the month." He beams. "I was intending to go with Peter, but he had an emergency back home. I was wondering if you could come with me but now this isn't a question."

Yet again, you were reminded how lucky to have Adam as a friend. He looks at you expectantly and you can't help but to liken him to a golden retriever eagerly waiting for their reward.

"Sure. I would love to."

You laugh as Adam does a little jig and fist pump. "Yes! Meet me here at six on Saturday?"

"You got it."

*** You tugged at the hem of your sundress unconsciously. What if it was too much? Should you go back and change? What would he think?

Before you could even reach the entrance, the door opens, revealing Adam in a brown sweater and jeans that made his golden locks stand out even more. He sees you from afar and for a moment you’re not sure if he’s put on pause.

“Y/N! You look… amazing.” He breaths out as you walked closer. You see his eyes staring at your outfit appreciatively and you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“Thank you. You look great as well.”

Adam grins, causing your stomach to do a few flips. “Shall we then? The festival is just a 10 min walk away.”

Walking along the pier was healing itself. You feel the cool breeze on your face and sighed happily.

“I’m glad that you came along with me.”

“So am I. You’re right, Adam. I needed this.” You tell him sincerely. As the two of you neared the festival, you could see various lights being mixed together from the different booths, providing harmonious chaos. The smell of food wafts through the air, reaching your stomach that had betrayed you by giving a loud growl.

“Oops.”

Adam chuckles, grabbing your hand gently. “Good to see that you’re up for some food.”

Adam sees that you have reverted back to your old self in that moment, eyes almost giving off a maniacal glint.

“Oh, I was born ready. Let’s feast!”

***

This was the best place to let your senses come alive. For you? It was the aromatic smells and tantalizing cuisines that each booth had to offer. While Adam makes mental notes on how he could incorporate various cuisines into his current menu, you were busy chomping away.

“You are impressive, and I mean that with the utmost respect.” Adam laughs as you gobble down an egg waffle from the Hong Kong booth. You shoot him a playful glare that only made him want to tease you more.

“Hey, I have needs.” You crumple the empty paper bag, throwing it into the bin, unaware of the crumbs at the side of your lip.

“You have something on your lips.” Adam points and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You try to follow where he was pointing at but didn’t seem to get the spot.

“Here,” Adam moves closer to you. “Let me.” He reaches for your lip, brushing the crumbs away with his thumb. The contact goes as quickly as it came and you’re left momentarily stunned. Adam doesn’t notice as he walks ahead of you, turning back when he realizes you aren’t following.

“Keep up! We still have more to go.”

You groan internally. You and your tendency to overthink things. Still, you can’t help but to think about Adam and his actions lately.

***

“This Lo Mein is out of this world!” You slurp on another noodle as Adam holds the box on his hand, going in for another taste. “I think you’re going to have to drag me back home later. Actually, you know what? I’m going to get one more box for supper.” You grin, heading back to the booth where the kind elderly woman was pleased to see you.

“Ah! Silly old me. I forgot to give you this!” The woman passes you a fortune cookie. “Something for the road.” She winks, shuffling away to attend to her other customers before you could even ask anything else. Curious, you decide to unwrap the cookie to read the contents inside. Instead of a usual quote, you see familiar handwriting. One that you saw on the written menu at The Warlock.

Y/N, I thought long and hard about writing this. I don’t want to loose our friendship, but I can’t stand to see you being under appreciated by others who don’t see your value and inner beauty. God, my hand’s trembling as I’m writing this but I’ll say it. I love you.

Your thumb lingers over the last three words and the noise from the festival has now been reduced to white noise in your head. All this while, he was right in front of you and you were too dumb not to see it. Cowardly, even.

You suddenly think about Adam’s actions and care towards you - not just when you broke up with that trash, but when you needed someone by your side. How he had closed the shop one time just to make sure you could recover from the nasty flu, brushing off your concerns about the lost business.

“It’s only one day, Y/N. You are more important.”

You clutch the paper in your hand, craning your neck to look for Adam in the crowd. The need to find him surges and you dart in and out of the crowd. You weren’t going to make the same mistake. You were going to give him your answer.

You were to engrossed with finding Adam that you find yourself being elbowed at the sides due to the crowd. Loosing your balance, you shut your eyes, preparing to be squashed by the potential foot traffic when a hand reaches out to grab you and pull you away from the throng of people.

Adam’s steely eyes stares into yours, making sure that you were not hurt. “Guess I should have reconsidered my mode of confession.”

The rumble in his voice steadies you and you immediately hug him tight. This throws him off slightly but he eases into it, bringing his arms around your waist.

“Yes,” you muffled into his chest. “I love you too.” You look up at him with affection. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I’m sorry I was so stupid to realize only now.” You’re about to ramble on when he brings your lips to his, giving you the most earth shattering kiss.

How you willed time to stop. He parts, looking down at you. Adam tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. Your answer was all I needed.”

A slight drizzle starts to spread across the festival and a moment of panic registers on Adam’s face at the sight of you in your dress. Not that you mind.

“Don’t worry, a little rain won’t hurt. In fact, it’s refreshing.” You hold his hand in yours. “You have space back at the restaurant? I think I may be staying for a while.”

Adam breaks into a grin. He locks his fingers with yours, pulling you towards him again.

“For you? You can stay as long as you like.”