#but this is the kind of party that my parents throw for their adult friends and I've inherited that

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @thereaperisabitch @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

[doitforbangchan]

Cross My Heart- Kim Hongjoong

Masterlist

did i spend my time writing this instead of working on Abanb? yes yes i did. But ive had brainrot for Joong and needed to get this out sooo..please enjoy :)

ps- this fic may be triggering for some so please see the warnings!

Brothers best friend! Hongjoong x reader (afab)

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, unprotected p in v, cream pies, dubcon/noncon, fingering, drinking, drink spiking, drunk reader, coercion, cursing, kissing, dom!hongjoong, inexperienced (not virgin)! Reader, pet names, crying, name calling, possesive! Hongjoong, Hongjoong is a bad person, and probably more. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.5k

Hongjoong looked good tonight. Too good. Sinfully good. He was wearing dark black jeans and an equally dark ripped tank that accentuated his slender waist perfectly. He sported his normal rings and chains, adding a few more for the occasion. Hongjoongs hair was platinum blonde- he seemed to have gotten it done within the last few months since you’ve seen him. If you had less self control you’d be drooling. 

For the last decade of your life you’ve had the biggest crush on Hongjoong. The way he carries himself always captivated you. From the swag in his walk to the charm in his smirk. He made you weak in the knees. Not to mention he was respectful and kind to everyone- especially to you. Though you would never dream of acting on your feelings for the man for one reason and one reason only.  

He was your brother's best friend. 

And your brother, Seonghwa, had made it very clear to you his best friend was off limits. 

You had expected him to be here. You knew he wouldn’t let Hwa down, especially when your brother was celebrating the biggest accomplishment of his life- his college graduation. Still; even though you knew he would be here in your home seeing him in person did nothing to slow the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. There was something so docile and charming about him that you couldn’t let go of. Maybe it was the way he leaned into you when he told you a secret. Or maybe it was the way he always made you feel included even when your brother didn’t want you around. 

The party was in full swing; your family home flooded with people all here to celebrate your brother. Some were people you knew, others were friends of your brother. Your parents were gracious enough to let him throw this ‘gathering’ while they were away for the weekend. You were both fully grown adults and they knew you could be trusted. 

From your spot across the room you could see your brother and Hongjoong playing beer pong. More like Joong playing beer pong while your brother swayed and missed every shot. It was only 11pm and your brother was already trashed, his pregaming taking more of a toll on him than he anticipated. 

You watched as a ball from the opponents sunk into the very last cup in their team, Hongjoog throwing his head back in frustration as the other team cheered for their victory. He must have sensed your eyes on him because suddenly he turned his head and made direct eye contact with you. He offered you a gentle smile and a small wave that you returned. Then he lifted the last solo cup of beer up as if cheersing you, and he tilted his head and downed the liquid. 

Pushing off the wall, you made your way into the kitchen to grab a drink. You didn’t plan on drinking tonight. You wanted to stay coherent so you could make sure nothing bad happened to your parents home, so you only grabbed a cup full of soda. 

Once you had your cup full you turned around from the counter but you were met with a hard surface. You almost lost balance but suddenly you were steadied by strong hands. 

“Careful there, Y/n. You almost dropped your drink.” 

You could feel your face burning as you looked to see the playful twinkle in the gorgeous eyes of Hongjoong. “Oh, t-thank you Joong.” Fuck you can’t belive you stuttered. You’ve known this guy for almost half your life, get a fucking grip. 

“No problem.” He let you go and you felt your breath return to you. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.” He didn’t have a drink in his hand so he reached around you and grabbed a bottle of tequila and a sprite. 

“I’ve been good, just working a lot to pay off my school debt. Ya know, same ole same ole.” You shrugged and sipped your drink.

He nodded, “Yeah me too. Things at the studio have kept me pretty busy.” Hongjoong graduated a year ago and immediately got a job in music production. He was so young and already living his dream. You admired him for it. You watched as he poured himself a shot and poured a second one. “You like tequila?” 

You shook your head, “Normally yes, but not tonight. Thank you though.” 

He gave you a pouty lip “Aw come on, not even one to celebrate?” He was already pushing it towards you as he lifted his own. 

You tilted your head side to side in contemplation before giving in with a small nod. “Ok, only one.” He used his fingers to cross his heart dramatically which made you giggle. He gave you that charming smile of his while he handed you your shot. You clinked shot glasses and both of you downed the liquor. 

You cringed as you felt the burn of the alcohol go down your throat, and you immediately had to chase it down with a sip of your soda. You mentally cursed whoever bought this cheap tequila (knowing it was you). 

Hongjoong patted your shoulder as you put your glass back down, laughing in jest at your disgusted face. “Yeah it’s pretty terrible.”  You were a known lightweight and you could feel the effects of the liquor already but you held yourself together well. Or so you thought. 

Faintly from the living room you could hear your favorite song playing. You gasped in realization, your tipsy brain getting excited. “My song is on!” 

Hongjoong chuckled and reached for your hand. “Let’s go then.” 

You ignored the fluttering in your stomach when he grabbed your hand, and looked at him confused. “Go where?” 

“To dance? This is your favorite song, isn’t it?” He said it like it was the most basic answer in the world, still giving you that playful yet dashing smile of his. 

“Oh.. I don’t know…” Your mind immediately went to your brother and how upset he would be if he found you dancing with Joong. You went to pull your hand back but he held on gently. “Hwa might be upset..” 

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Doll, I don’t think he’s in his right mind to be upset about anything.” He nodded towards where he could see Seonghwa leaning against the wall, attempting to flirt with a pretty girl he graduated with.  “Plus it’s just a dance. Nothing nefarious.” 

You found yourself slowly nodding in agreement, one little dance couldn’t hurt. Right? 

“Alright, just one.” You held up a single finger. He crossed his heart once again, then laced your fingers together.

You went to walk away but he stopped you. “Don’t forget your drink. You don’t want some weirdo spiking it or something.” You nodded as you grabbed your cup then allowed him to pull you into the living room. 

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

One dance turned into two, then three. You don’t know why but you could feel your inhibitions leave you the more you danced and by the time you finished your drink. By dance number three you could tell something was up. You were abnormally drunk for only taking one shot. The pumping music and the crowds of partygoers only added to it. 

Hongjoong was being respectful, keeping his hands on your waist or your hands and spinning you around. He didn’t try to kiss you or hold you too tight even when you grabbed him to balance yourself  during the current slow song. 

“You doing alright, sweetheart?” He asked in a low tone, concern for you lacing his voice. 

“I don’ know wha’s wrong wif me..” Your words were slightly slurred. You could hear the drunkenness in your voice and it made you embarrassed. It was then it occurred to you the situation you still found yourself in. Pressed up against Hongjoong. Your crush- who was off limits. You pushed yourself away from him hastily, making him bristle when you almost fell. “I gotta go.” 

“Wait a sec, doll, what’s wron-” 

“What is goin on over here?” It was Seonghwa who interrupted Hongjoongs question. Somehow he had managed to drunkenly stagger into the living room without either of you knowing. He too leaned on Hongjoong for support. His hazy gaze settled on you, “Y/n are you ok?” 

You started to nod but it turned into you shaking your head ‘no’. “Hwa..” 

“I think she had a little too much to drink.” Hongjoong said, trying to hold both of you up but making it look effortless. 

Your brother hummed, narrowing his glossed over eyes at you. Then he sighed, “Looks like I’ll have to take care of her. Time for bed.” He went to grab your arm but he almost lost his balance, being more drunk than he appeared (which was already very drunk). Hongjoong didn’t miss the way Seonghwa muttered under his breath about you being a nuisance. 

You wanted to protest but Hongjoong cut you off. “I can take her up to her room. You should enjoy your party.” He pointed behind Hwa, “Plus there's a pretty little minx giving you eyes over there.” 

Seonghwa snapped his neck around to see the girl from earlier, giving him a wave of her fingers and a wink. He turned back to Hongjoong, “You’ll make sure she gets to bed?” Hongjoong made a cross over his heart. “Damn you really are my best friend. Thanks man, I owe you one.” And with that, the boy slinked off back to his new conquest. 

Hongjoong chuckled at the actions of his best friend, then turned his attention back to you. With no warning he scooped you up into his arms. You shrieked as you were suddenly lifted from the ground. “Waahhhhh!” 

“Calm down, doll. I’m taking you to bed.” He soothed you, walking through the crowds. He ignored the hoots and hollers people tossed at you both, only smirking in response. Joong stepped over a few wasted people who sat on the stairs. If you had your wits about you you would have swooned over how strong he is. 

Thankfully there was no one else trying to suck face- or worse- in your room, so he was able to set you down with no delay. You faintly recognized the minute sound of the lock on your door being turned, but you chalked it up to residuals from the music that blared downstairs. 

You relaxed into your sheets, happy to be back in your own comforting space. You shut your eyes and sighed. For a moment it was quiet and you had forgotten about the guest who was still in your room with you. 

That is, until you felt his lithe fingers trail up your thigh. Your eyes snapped open as you took in the scene in front of you. Hongjoong had somehow crawled onto your bed without you noticing and had taken his shirt off. 

“J-joong? Wha are you doing?” 

“Shhh, it’s alright, doll.” His usually soothing voice had a light bite to it that made you shiver and his eyes had a fire behind them you’ve never seen before. “M’ just taking care of you like I promised your brother I would.” His touches traveled even further up your thigh, getting closer to slipping under your skirt. 

“Joong I-I don’t think Hwa would like this..” You tried to protest and scoot up your bed but he put his weight down on you, holding you in place. His masculine cologne was making you even dizzier. 

By now his hand was on the cusp of touching your panties, the tip of his finger itching to get that centimeter closer to your core. 

“I’m not in Hwas bed, now am I?” He was almost condescending with the way he spoke to you. It was alarming as he had never once spoken to you like this before. “Aren’t you an adult? Or do you need your older brother's permission for everything?” 

“I don’t need his permission to do anything!” You protested, your voice coming out louder than intended. 

He snorted and sat up again, appearing disappointed. “Nah, I get it. I just thought you liked me, is all. I guess I was wrong.” He turned as if he was about to leave.

Your hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder before he could get off the bed. “No wait! I do like you Hongjoong! I like you so much!” 

He concealed his smirk with a sigh, “Doesn’t seem like it, doll. Seems to me you don’t want me, when all I wanna do is make you feel good.” His words reached deep into your drunken heart, making tears spring to your lashes. 

“No I do, I swear! Please Joongie, don’t be upset with me. M’ sorry!”You got out through your sniffles. You tried again to pull him back to you and thankfully he let you this time. “I do like you, I always have.” 

“Aww don’t cry sweetheart, you’re too pretty for tears.” He cooed and wiped the liquid from your cheeks. For some reason that made you cry even harder, your hold on him tightening even more. “ Gonna be good for me now, doll?” You nodded rapidly, wanting him to be happy with you again. “Thata girl.” 

After another wipe at your cheeks he used that same hand to tilt your face up to his, you held your breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes. With no more hesitation he crashed your lips together. It was not soft and delicate like you had imagined he would kiss. Instead his mouth was punishing- a dangerous mix of teeth and tongue. He bit at your lip harshly, making you whimper from the pain. 

His hand that was not on your face slithered back down to your center, where this time he touched your most intimate area, running over your panties and to your clit. The contact made you jump and gasp; you weren’t used to being touched this intimately. You weren’t a virgin, but your experience was lackinging for the most part.  And doing this right now with Hongjoong- your brother's best friend- made you feel filthy. But that fact also made you start to get wetter than you ever had before.

Your own hands wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to stop him, but he never slowed or stopped. “Joongie.. We can’t do this.. It’s wrong…”His rubbing on your clit got even more intense as you spoke, his frustration with you coming through, and the pleasure was beginning to become painful. “Ow, y-your hurting me.” 

He turned your head forcefully and ran the thick of his tongue along your cheek, making you shiver, until his lips reached your ear. With a breathy growl he chuckled in your ear. “If you behave and let me play then it won’t hurt. I can feel how wet you are through these flimsy panties, I know you like it. Dirty slut.” 

You yelped when he delivered a punishing smack to your core, “Hongjoong!” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Doll.” He started nipping and sucking at your neck and your grip on him tightened. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you drool like a dog over me whenever I come around. You always act so innocent and shy, as if you haven’t been eye fucking me for years, makes me so fucking hard.” 

You couldn’t even breathe let alone move, the lust and terror combined were making you stiff and compliant. You could not believe Hongjoong, the sweetest and kindest man you had ever met - the boy you were raised around- your Joongie; was doing this dastardly act to you. You couldn’t decide if you loved this side of him or hated it. 

There was a part of your brain that was happy to have any part of him you could get so you decided not to fight him anymore. His kisses and touches turned sweeter the more you relaxed, he hummed in satisfaction when your hands released his wrist. 

“There's my sweet girl. You know Joongie will take care of you, yeah?” His tone was smug and you knew he would have a smirk on his face. “I’ll make you feel so good. Cross my heart, doll.” He took your small nod as permission to continue. 

His nimble fingers went to the waistband of your thong and he roughly pulled it down and exposed your now dripping pussy to his view. With no warning he rammed a finger into your hole, making your back arch as he started pumping it in and out of you. “S-shit, Joongie!” 

“You like my fingers inside you? I know you do, your pussy is leaking all over my hand.” He slipped another finger in, now using two and curling the tips until he found the spongy spot inside of you. You moaned lewdly at the sensation, eyes wide in shock. “Oooo I think I found your g-spot. I bet no one has ever touched that special little spot huh sweetheart?” 

You shook your head rapidly, but your lack of verbal response caused him to tut at you then swiftly withdraw from your pussy and deliver another stinging slap to your folds. “N-no one but you Joongie! Only you!” 

He purred and sucked a devilish mark on your neck, “Mmm I like the sound of that. Only me. The way it should be.”

 Both your heart and your core fluttered as he said it. It gave you hope that just maybe he felt the same way about you that you felt for him. Little did you know he always had. 

 He sat up and pulled back from you completely, looking down at you with those demeaning eyes of his. He almost groaned out loud at how fucked out you already looked and he had barely touched you yet. Hongjoong had wanted you for years. He was usually a patient man, but after the years of watching you prance around in little skirts and seeing the ways other guys looked at you, his patience had worn thin. And since you were too caught up in the fact that he was your brother's best friend he knew he had to be the one to take initiative. Thank god you didn’t taste the copious amount of liquor in your drink cup earlier… 

“You’re so beautiful, baby, all spread out and glassy eyed. Mmm I could just eat you up.” He sucked on the fingers that had previously been in you, both of you whining at the lewd act. “Fuck, so tasty too. Gonna have to feast on this pussy, baby.” You clenched your thighs at the thought of him eating you out, making him chuckle darkly. “Seems like my little whore wants that. Too bad, that’ll have to be on the agenda for later. I need you now.” 

He deftly undid his belt which brought your attention to the bulge in the pants. As he pushed down the fabric of both his pants and underwear you were left in shock. 

Holy shit he was HUGE 

You weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit inside you. Apparently Hongjoong could see your trepidation because he smirked and held in a laugh at your wide eyes. “I’ll make it fit sweetheart, don’t worry.” 

When he leaned down over you, caging you in, is when the severity really hit you. Your hands went to his chest as you tried to push him off but he was stronger than you, using his weight to hold you down. “Wait, Joong I-” 

“I’m done waiting. You’ve been teasing me for years, I’m not gonna let you get away with it again. Hold still.” He all but snarled at you as he lined up his tip to your weeping entrance. He ignored your further pleas for him to wait, dragging the thick tip of his member through your slick before he slowly pushed into you. 

You wailed as you felt him impale you. “NNNGGGHHH!” Your arms threw themselves over Hongjoongs shoulders and your nails embedded in his skin so harshly he knew he would have marks for days to come. 

“Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?” He sounded so desperate already, his need getting the better of him.”You gotta relax for me babe, you might snap my dick off.” 

Thankfully he gave you a moment to adjust; he knew he was big and he truly didn’t want to hurt you. You took deep breaths and tried to relax. You could feel your walls pulsing around the thick intrusion. Hongjoong was slathering your neck with sloppy kisses in an attempt to distract you from the discomfort. It was the sweetness you craved from him and you could feel yourself loosening up. 

Soon enough your body was pliable enough for him to move. “Good girl.” He praised as he started to move, his hips gyrating to create friction that made both of you moan. You practically purred at his praise and your pelvis subconsciously bucked up into his. “Mm you like when I call you my good girl, don’t you?” He licked at the skin under your ear and nipped there. 

You nodded and tried to answer but the full feeling of him was making it hard for your brain to catch up. “Mhmm” 

He smiled against you and then fully lifted his pelvis until the tip was barely inside, then shoved himself in all at once, bottoming out in one fail swoop. Your eyes screwed shut and your legs automatically wrapped around his waist in an attempt to hold him too you. Though, your efforts were in vain and Hongjoong began to pound into you over and over. 

The glide of him inside of you was otherworldly. This was both the best experience of your life and the worst. On one hand you were so happy to have the man of your dreams here in your bed, making you feel such intense pleasure. On the other hand… 

Something felt so wrong. 

More like something about him felt wrong. The Hongjoong you knew had never been so dominating - demanding- or abrasive. It was thrilling to say the least. 

“You look so good under me, you dirty whore.” 

You whined at the name, feeling ashamed at the gush of arousal that came from you at his malicious words. “M’ your whore Joongie. Only yours.” 

There was a hiccup in his movements then he was back on beat but this time with even more force. “I like the sound of that. My whore. This pussy is alllll for me, isn’t it?” You nodded and squeezed his shoulders. “No other man will ever touch this perfect pussy ever again. I’ll ruin you enough that no one will even think about touching what’s mine.” 

“Yours! M’ yours!” 

He chuckled and let one of his hands snake down to wear your bodies met, “You are mine. And I take care of things that belong to me.” His agile fingers found your clit with ease and he started to rub the nub with quick, lively movements. 

Your back arched further, pushing your still clothed chest into his bare one. “F-fuck.” You were getting so close, your tipsy state made your high build quicker than ever before; though it could also have something to do with the exact man causing your pleasure. “Joongie..” 

The man could feel you clench down on him and he knew that was a sign you were about to cum. “Go ahead and cum for me. Let me see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock.” 

With his permission you let go. You cried loudly as you crashed over the precipice, your head thrown back and your thighs shaking in ecstasy. Thank god the music was still blaring downstairs or every person in this house would have heard you. 

He groaned at the sight of you trembling and crying below him and felt that he wasn’t going to be far behind. Joong leaned back on his haunches and yanked your hips up onto his lap all while never exiting your center. He wanted to feel you clench like that again; he knew it would throw him right over the edge. 

Before you even finished quivering he took his other hand that wasn’t on your clit, and shoved two of his fingers inside you along with his cock. Now you have truly never felt so damn full in your life. It was almost too much for you to handle. He also sped up the messaging on your clit, the combination sending you jolting into another orgasm. 

“HONGJOONG OH MY GOD” You screamed as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt hit you like a freight train. You could hear a splashing sound and a sudden flooding of wetness all over your inner thighs. 

“Holy shit, you’re fucking squirting! Fuck, that is so fucking hot.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, with a final hard thrust that felt like it hit your cervix he finally came inside of you. His hot cum coated your inner walls- it was so hot you compared it to getting a brand. Perhaps in his own twisted way that’s what he had done. Branded you as his. 

He let himself fall back onto you as he crashed his lips into your own; both wet with drool. When he pulled away from you, you were both panting. Hongjoong wiped away the remaining tears from your face, stroking your cheeks and looking down at you with the most loving look anyone has ever given you. Your heart was melting and you leaned up and gave him another sweet peck on his lips. 

He accepted your kiss then gave you a few of his own, first on your lips then all over your face, making you giggle. 

He sighed wistfully and flopped down beside you, pulling you up into his arms. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You hummed, curling yourself into him. “I’m so happy you're finally mine.” He pressed another kiss to your head. You both could still feel and hear the vibrations from the loud party. You vaguely wondered if anyone had any clue of the debauchery that had taken place up here. Then another quick thought ran through your head and it made your heart stop.

Hongjoong hadn’t used a condom… 

And you were not on birth control. 

Hongjoongs wandering fingers found your overly sensitive center once again and he deftly pushed the leaking cum back into you. 

“And I always treat what's mine the way they deserve. Cross my heart.”

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[heartsofminds]

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 

God, this girl is so dramatic. 

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 

Fuck. Why do I always do this? 

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 

Some things just aren’t meant to be. 

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 

“You what?” 

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 

“You did what?” 

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 4)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Being Arrested

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: Stella is now four years old and Rafe gets to celebrate that first milestone with her.

Masterlist

Four years old. His little girl is four years old and Rafe finally gets to be there for one of Stella’s special days. He was quick to say yes when Y/N asked him to help plan the birthday party. She can swear he is more excited about the celebration than Stella as he pitches big and wild ideas. By the time May 17th comes around, she is able to talk him down from hiring someone to bring in safari animals to a Halloween-themed party with family members and daycare friends. With his excitement, the party also brings in the nerves of meeting Y/N’s family. He knows she told them the truth about him, but she said she explained how much he has changed for Stella. So he is a little on edge about what they are going to think about him and vows to himself to be on his best behaviour. 

Rafe finds himself setting up cauldrons filled with candies on a fold-out table in a black cat costume. Witch Y/N comes out to the backyard with a black cat-shaped piñata and a wooden broom. “If I was really being a bad boy, then you could’ve just told me. You don’t need to beat it out of me,” he jokes. Y/N giggles, heading over to the tree, “I don’t think any amount of spanking could turn you good.” His cheeks redden and he walks over to help her tie the piñata string around the tree branch when he notices her struggle. 

His breath falls on the back of his neck and his chest is flushed against her back. It takes everything in her not to take a peek at his abs that are on display thanks to his shirt lifting up. She looks up to watch him dangle the cardboard cat. He finishes up and looks down at her. They smile once their eyes meet. The moment is interrupted by Benedict coming outside with Stella in his arms. Her older brother notices their body language, “I hope we aren’t interrupting anything.”  “Mommy, Uncle Benny said he and me can throw paint at his walls tomorrow. Can I go, please?” Stella begs, not noticing the position her parents are in. Y/N and Rafe pull apart. Rafe holds his hand out to shake, “I’m Rafe, Stella’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.” Benedict shifts Stella to one arm and takes Rafe’s hand. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N’s older brother, Benedict.” Rafe isn’t too sure what to say next, but luckily Y/N is able to break the silence. “Benny, can you help Rafe finish setting up? I have to get Stells changed into her costume,” she directs, leaving Rafe and Benedict alone with Stella’s pleas to go over to her uncle’s house tomorrow fading in the distance.

Unlucky for him, she says exactly what he doesn’t want her to, but he nods anyway. Rafe and Benedict keep working on the decorations. A few minutes later, a man, a woman and a teenager come out back; they all look like Y/N in various ways. The woman exclaims, “I can’t believe my grandbaby is already four.” The trio notices Rafe and freezes. Benedict is the one to rescue him, “Mom, Dad, Josh. This is Rafe, Stella’s dad.” Her mother and father give an unpleased look at him and he feels his heart deflate. He paints a smile on his face and holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N, Mr. Y/L/N, and Joshua,” he introduces, shaking all their hands. When her parents don’t say he can call them by their first names, he feels he didn’t make a good impression on them. 

Joshua gives him a smile that helps give him some hope, “It’s good to meet you. Stella has told me some great things about you.” At least, Y/N’s brothers seem to be okay with him. Y/N returns before the conversation can continue and everyone finishes putting up the decorations. 

——

The party is just beginning. Stella is running around the backyard with her friends while the adults talk to each other. None of the parents want to talk to Rafe because all they know is he was Stella’s absentee father up until recently and none of them are keen to learn more about him. Benedict is busy playing with the kids and Josh is talking to some of the parents. “Hi, sorry we are a little late. The ferry wasn’t on time,” Rose apologizes, placing a gift on the presents table. Wheezie and Sarah follow her actions and they all go looking for Stella. She spots the three Camerons arriving, running toward them. “Grammie, Auntie Wheezie, Auntie Sarah,” she screams. The little girl throws herself into the Cameron women's arms, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. 

Ever since Stella met her grandmother and aunts, she has been hooked on being exactly like them. She wants to be as determined as Rose, as kind to the environment as Sarah and as funny as Wheezie. While watching the scene, Y/N heads over to her parents. “You guys need to start talking to Rafe. I can see you guys are making him nervous,” she demands, giving them the disapproving mother look she mastered thanks to Stella. Her father gives her a questioning look, “How can we let him into our lives when we don’t know if he is here to stay? When we don’t know if he is going to break your and Stella’s hearts?” She understands her parents' fear. They were so supportive of her pregnancy and continuing school. They knew how much she struggled with the decision not to tell Rafe because of the rumours of who he was and with being a single mother in general. And it’s understandable that they don’t want to go through that all over again. However, Y/N has seen the effort Rafe has put into changing and her parents need to give him a chance to prove that to them. “Yes, he may have needed to get sober before he met Stella. But he worked hard to do so and I’m proud of him. Watch how great he is with Stella. It will show you how great of a father he is,” she promises. 

They take their daughter’s word into consideration and watch as Rafe approaches his step-mom, sisters and daughter. Stella jumps into her father’s arms, “Daddy, can I open my present from you, please? It looks so pretty.” Rafe hates to tell her no, but he knows what Y/N would want him to say. “Little witch, if it was just me and you today, then of course you can,” he begins to explain. “But we are at your birthday party and it would be rude to open just one gift at the beginning. Before we played the games, had dinner and cut the cake. I promise when Mommy says it is time to open presents, you can open my gift first.” The little girl takes a second to consider what her dad said. She nods her head and runs off to play with her friends. 

Y/N’s parents are impressed by how Rafe handled the situation. They can’t deny he was great with their granddaughter and decide they should apologize for how they were treating him. They approach him with a timid smile. “Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N, is there anything I can help you with?” he asks, looking excited because he may or may not have overheard their conversation with Y/N. Mallory gives an apologetic look, “Please, call us Mallory and Winston. We are here to say sorry for how we’ve been treating you. We couldn’t see that you changed before. You really are amazing with Stella.” “You are and we’d like to get to know you more in a more suitable environment. How about you come over for dinner tomorrow?” Winston offers. Rafe is overjoyed with their sudden change, “I would love that. If it is not too much trouble for you guys, then I would love to make your family dinner at my place in the Outer Banks.” “Winston and I would love that.” 

——

Stella sits with her presents surrounding her. Her excitement to open them all warms everyone’s hearts. “Which one do you want to open first, Baby?” Y/N inquiries, looking at all the bigger boxes Stella will probably want to open. Stella picks a more medium-sized box, “This one is Daddy’s. He said I can open it first.” She looks at her mother to confirm she is allowed to open the gift and immediately rips the dark purple paper apart when she gets the confirmation. The paper beneath shows a lavender cardboard box closed with packing tape. She struggles with pulling the flaps of the box open and looks up at her dad with pleading eyes. “Please, Daddy, help me open it.” Rafe jogs over to his little witch and pulls it open for her. 

He wraps his arms around her waist to lift her up, so she can see into the box. She pulls the tissue paper out of the box and pulls out the fluffy black stuffed cat. Her squeal is deafening, but her eyes widen at the pretty Taurus constellation necklace the cat is wearing as a collar. Each star is a small diamond. Y/N’s eyes bulge at the sight as well, knowing the necklace is expensive. She wants to demand that he takes it back, but she doesn’t want to ruin this bonding moment between the father and daughter. “Daddy, can you put it on for me, please?” she questions, holding it up to him. He gives her a kiss on the temple, “Of course. I want you to remember how much I love you every time you wear it. And know that whenever I look up to the stars, I’m thinking about you, little witch.” 

——

“Thank you so much for watching her. Benny got into a little trouble and uhh… he definitely isn’t in a place that I should take Stells. And my parents can’t get him because they are doing some college tours with Joshua,” Y/N thanks, getting ready to leave. She looks over her shoulder to see Rafe holding Stella in his arms, “Are you guys going to be okay? I know that this is the first time you are going to be watching her.” “We are going to be great! I promise I got this and if I need you, then I got your number,” Rafe guarantees, looking at Stella for backup. She gives him a grin, “Yeah. Now, go help Uncle Benny so I can spend time with Daddy.” Y/N shakes her head at her daughter chasing her out of her own house. “Okay, I’m going. Bye, I love you,” Y/N says, running out of the door. Rafe stops himself from returning her words when Stella cries out, “I love you too, Mommy.” He remembers that Y/N doesn’t love him, she loves her daughter. 

Once Y/N is out of sight, he closes the door and looks at his daughter. “So what do you want to do, little witch?” She gives it a thought before answering, “Let’s make popcorn and then watch a movie!” Rafe laughs at her excitement and brings them to the kitchen. He places her on the counter, so he can go looking for the popcorn. Y/N doesn’t have microwave popcorn, instead, she has just the kernels in a glass jar. He looks around for a popcorn machine, but it goes unfound. “Where does Mommy keep the popcorn machine?” he inquires, opening up a different cabinet to check. Stella gives him an inquisitive look, “Popcorn machine? Mommy makes it on the stove.” This makes Rafe pause because he has never made popcorn on the stove. “Do we really need popcorn? We can have chips instead,” he suggests. She shakes her tiny head, “We always have popcorn when we watch a movie.” “Okay, but you are going to have to help Daddy,” he gives in, taking the kernel jar and bringing her closer to the stove. He gets a pot, holding it up to his daughter, “Is this big enough?” 

“Yes, that’s the one Mommy uses. She uses the oil in that bottle and uses the blue spoon to put some oil in the pan.” Under her guidance, Rafe gets the olive oil and finds the blue spoon, which is a tablespoon measuring cup. He has to sneak a look at a recipe on his phone to check how many tablespoons of oils he needs, so Stella doesn’t think she is doing a bad job at explaining to him. She continues to instruct him on how to make it and when it starts popping he jumps a little. Stella giggles at her father’s fear, “Daddy, you got scared!” He exaggerates his surprise to keep her laughing. “I did. Can you cuddle Daddy to make him less scared?” he begs, moving closer so she can wrap her arms around his neck.

The popcorn finishes popping and he lets her put as much white cheddar topping as she wants. Rafe goes to examine their DVD collection and an unmarked box catches his attention. He pulls it off of the shelf, opening it up to reveal: The Love I Used To Have, starring Y/N Y/L/N. His mouth turns into a grin and he holds the box up to his daughter. “Do you want to watch this? Your mommy is in it,” he suggests to the toddler. Her excitement shines through and she jumps up and down while clapping. “Yes, yes. I want to see Mommy in a movie.” They get settled on the couch with her nestled under his arm. Stella pops some of the popcorn into his mouth and he has to stop himself from cringing at the amount of white cheddar in his mouth. “Hmm, this is really good, little witch. Good job,” he praises, giving her a smile. She grins at his words and eats some herself. He turns on the movie and they begin to watch.

The title of the short film fades onto the screen, disappearing to reveal the close-up of an eye crying. Rafe instantly recognizes it. How could he not when the image of those eyes rolling while he goes down on her is what haunts his dreams? Y/N’s eyes blink and the shot changes to a wide shot of her at a cemetery. “That’s Mommy,” Stella identifies with her finger pointed toward the screen. He kisses her head, “It is.” 

As the short film progresses, Rafe is blown away by Y/N’s acting talents. She is able to evoke the feeling of loss from him so easily and he truly feels like he is experiencing falling in love with her co-star and then losing her. He may not have lost Y/N in the same way as her character, but the emotion she displays makes it easy for him to match his loss with hers. It makes him want to ask her if she did have someone she loves die and if that is the feeling she is tapping into for this project. The movie comes to an end and he brushes his tears away to hide them from Stella. “Mommy is good at acting,” she whispers, looking up at her father, who can only nod in agreement. 

——

The rest of the afternoon turned into a Halloweentown marathon and halfway through movie number three, they had to pause for a second to wait for the food they ordered. Stella is held in his arms, playing with the gold chain around her father’s neck. “Daddy,” she catches his attention. He hums to show that he is listening. “Do you love me?” Rafe’s eyes stop looking out the open door to look at her, “Of course I love you.”

“Forever?”

“Little witch, I love you forever and always.”

The elation in her eyes makes him happy and she rests her head on his chest with a sigh, “I love you forever and always too.” 

——

Y/N comes home to find Stella asleep in Rafe’s hold while his focus is completely on the TV. He is so invested in Return to Halloweentown that he doesn’t notice Y/N walk in. “How is Marnie going to get herself out of this pickle?” he whispers to himself. Y/N joins him on the couch, “Don’t worry, she will.” Rafe, for the second time today, jumps out of his seat, but a little softer with Stella in his arms. “I did not see you come in. Is Benedict okay?” he leans in to ask so as to not wake up the sleeping girl. 

“Yeah, he got off with a warning this time. The police just wanted someone to pick him up so he wouldn't do it again. The paperwork was a nightmare though.”

“That’s bureaucracy, Buttercup. Let me just help you get her to bed and I’ll head out.”

Rafe lifts himself off the couch and at the movement, Stella wakes up. “Mommy, you’re home,” she mutters in a tired voice. Y/N smoothes the girl’s muddy hair down, “I am, Baby. Why don’t we go to bed and say goodbye to Daddy?” Stella hasn’t forgotten her plan to help her father out with her mother and decides this is the perfect time to put it into motion. “But I want Daddy to sleep over. Mommy, it’s so late,” she draws out the last vowel. Y/N gives her a tight-lipped shake of the head, “I know, but Daddy has to go home, Stells.”

 “NO! I want Daddy to stay.”

“Stella Rachel Y/L/N. I said Daddy can’t. Now, go get ready for bed.”

Stella disobeys her mother and continues to cry her head off. Y/N starts biting her nails, trying to think of how to handle this situation. Rafe can see how tired Y/N is and wants to help. “I can sleep over if you want. I don’t mind taking the couch,” he offers. At her father’s words, Stella’s cries continued, “No, I want Daddy to sleep with me in Mommy’s room with Mommy.” He doesn’t know how to help Y/N with that. Y/N is too tired to argue at this point and gives in to her daughter’s wants, “Okay, he can stay with us.” Stella’s screams immediately stop. She gets off of the couch and goes to get ready for bed. “Did I just get tricked by my four-year-old?” Y/N ponders, turning toward Rafe. He gives her a shrug, “If it makes you feel better, I thought she was having a real tantrum.”

——

Y/N and Rafe stare at each other awkwardly from over Stella’s head. She had insisted that she sleep sandwiched between the pair and that they hugged each other while they slept. Rafe never thought he would be in Y/N’s bed; he doesn’t really know what to make of it, but he isn’t complaining. “I’m sorry she threw a tantrum and now you have to sleep here,” Y/N murmurs, smoothing down Stella’s hair. He gives her a smile, “It’s okay. I have nowhere to be tomorrow. Plus, I like being here for our daughter.” “That’s great. I know she loves it when you are here,” she confesses. His eyes find the ones that were on the TV screen a few hours ago, “How come you never tried to get your big break at acting? I know you couldn’t move out to LA or New York because of the diner, but you could’ve still sent out self-tapes.” “It wouldn’t have been practical with Stella. I needed a steady income and acting couldn’t provide me with the stability I needed for her,” she explains, fidgeting with her nails under the blanket. 

“But you are such a good actress. It is your dream.”

“It was my dream, Rafe. But I was going to have a baby and she became my priority.”

Rafe wishes that he could’ve been there when Stella was born, then maybe Y/N wouldn’t have had to leave her dream behind. He promises to himself that he will help bring stability to his little family so that Y/N can chase after what she genuinely wants in life. He goes to express that feeling but finds Y/N’s eyes closed. Her soft snores are an indication he isn’t going to get an answer. “I love you both. Forever and always,” he vows, kissing them both on the cheek. 

——

The next morning, Rafe is the first to wake up and he decides to make breakfast for his girls. He wants to help alleviate some of Y/N’s stress because that’s what one does for the people one loves. It may be a little early to say he loves her, but just being with her makes him happy and he has never felt his way before. He should ask her out on a date. Stella and Y/N find Rafe cooking waffles for everyone. Their little girl goes running to him and wraps herself in his legs. “Good morning, Daddy! Can I have some waffles too, please?” He moves away from the waffle maker, kneeling to return her hug, “Of course, little witch. I’m making food for everyone. Why don’t you go sit at the table? There is some bacon already there. This is the last waffle that I need to make.” “Okay. Thank you, Daddy! Forever and always,” she yells. She runs back to the table and Y/N gives him a confused look. “Forever and always? What does she mean by that?” she probes, coming closer to him. He looks over at her with a smile, “She asked me yesterday if I loved her. And I said forever and always. I guess that’s how she is saying I love you now.”

“Oh, that’s cute. You didn’t have to make breakfast, Button. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Buttercup. This may not be my house, but Stella is my responsibility too. Making sure she is fed is a part of my duties.”

The family eats breakfast in harmony with each other like they have always been together since Stella was born. She would do adorable things that would warm her parents’ hearts and they would do piney things that would give her hope. Y/N is washing the dishes while Rafe and Stella hang out at the table. “Daddy, you should ask Mommy out on a date,” Stella advises in a hushed tone. His eyebrow darts at his daughter’s words, “And what do you know about dates, little witch?” 

“Mommy and I watch lots of Hallmark movies. You look at each other like they do in the movies.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, and you smile whenever you see her. And try to touch her hand.” 

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Little does she know that her dad has already thought about it and is planning on doing it once her hearing ears are out of the room. 

——

Stella is in the bathroom, pooping as she announced to her parents. This leaves Y/N and Rafe alone in the living room waiting to see if she is going to need any help. Rafe finds the chain of his watch, playing with the link of the golden band, “I was thinking… maybe we could go mini golfing sometime and then we could go to dinner.” “Oh, that’d be great. Stella loves mini golfing. She says it’s like a tiny world perfect for kids,” she informs, giving him a smile.

“Actually, I was thinking it could be a date.” 

Her smile falls and Rafe feels as though his world stopped turning. “Rafe, I like you. I really do, but I don’t think we should date,” she breaks his heart with those words. “Some people suggest that you shouldn’t date when you are just getting sober. It’s not that I don’t believe you will stay sober. It’s that I think it would be better to focus on your sobriety and Stella.” He quickly nods his head, wanting to move past this awkward moment, “Right, I understand.” “Yeah, you are such a great dad to Stella and I really appreciate the effort you put into being with her. I hope you know that.” Their daughter’s call for help with wiping her butt causes Y/N to leave him alone in the room. He knows what she said makes sense and he probably shouldn’t jump head-first into another new commitment. But it still doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach at her no. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya

[munsonfamilyband]

I love nothing more than all the adults just deciding to adopt Steve - add to that the moms all adoring Eddie and you have my favorite shit. (TW mentions of child abuse)

You would think Claudia Henderson was the first mother to fall for Steve Harrington’s charm but it isn’t. It isn’t even Karen Wheeler, who met him while he was dating Nancy. No, it’s Joyce Byers. She met Steve when he was young, still in elementary school, and he had come into Melvald’s to get groceries when his parents had left him home alone. After seeing him come in multiple times without a parent in sight she started slowly taking care of him; she knew that she couldn’t push herself into his life, he was clearly uncomfortable with talking about his home life. Over time she was able to sneak food into his bags of purchases and then she would gift him “hand-me-downs” from “Jonathan” in the winter so he wouldn’t freeze.

Hopper was next. Steve was in 8th grade by the time they met. Steve had been friends with Tommy Hagan for a few years by then, but Tommy had finally convinced him to throw a party and the party very quickly got out of hand. Hop was called to the Harrington house for a noise complaint and he broke up the party. He did notice that Steve got visibly uncomfortable when he said he had to call his parents but procedure was procedure. He threw out procedure when a few days later he saw Steve in town with a black eye and a bruise around his wrist. From then on out he would always answer calls to the Harrington’s and he never called his parents again, he would stick around and make sure Steve was okay and had medicine for the hangover he was sure to have. He couldn’t do much, wouldn’t do much with the pain of Sarah still so raw, but he did what he could.

Karen Wheeler came next, endlessly endeared to Steve when he showed up to take Nancy on a date. Ted hated him, and she could agree that Steve appears self centered but she witnessed small moments that made her realize he wasn’t completely who he tried to appear to be. She would notice him flinch minutely when Ted snapped at the kids, or the well covered bruises when she heard his parents were in town. He was also kind and doting to Nancy which made her like him more. Karen was sad when she heard they broke up but Steve never stopped coming around, just this time he was there for Mike instead.

Claudia Henderson was suspicious of Steve at first. Her Dusty was different than other kids, she never had the money to get him seen by a professional and get a name for what was so different in his brain, but she knew that children were mean to him for it - she hated that he was bullied because he was such a wonderful kid with so much brain it made her head spin. Steve was 5 years older and had a reputation around town but the first time Dustin invited him over for dinner was the day she decided that she had two sons. Steve was polite and kind, he brought flowers to thank her for letting him stay and eat her food, and he and Dustin bickered but Steve so clearly cared about her son. Then Steve showed up at her house with a bloody nose and a split lip and a distinctly hand shaped mark on his cheek and asked to spend the night and he was solidified as one of her kids forever, even if he and Dustin stop being as close as they are.

The Sinclair’s don’t know Steve as well, but they hear about him constantly, first from Lucas and then from Lucas AND Erica. They figure if Erica likes him then he’s an okay kid, and he’s never been anything but kind when they have met him.

Wayne Munson is the last to meet Steve, and it takes him the longest to warm up to Steve. He had spent years listening to Eddie complain about people like Steve, and even Steve himself, so when he started showing up at his trailer all the time, Wayne was suspicious to say the least. Eddie kept telling him that he wasn’t who he was in high school, he even went on a tangent at one point about how Steve was just trying to survive the only way he knew how, but Wayne didn’t buy it; he knew Steve’s parents, and he figured that Steve had to be like them. Even when he saw how kind Steve was to Eddie, to the kids, to that Robin girl he’s always with, he still didn’t trust him. Funny enough, the moment that changed that for him wasn’t in his trailer, where Steve practically lived by then. No, it was at Family Video. Wayne had stopped by to get a movie for he and Eddie while Eddie was at work, and he didn’t see anyone at the desk when he walked in but he heard voices in the back room that he recognized as the Robin girl and Steve. She was clearly upset with him for something but it took him a moment to gather what.

“You can’t hide this stuff from us- from me! You and me, Steve, we do not hide things.”

“I know, Rob, I just- I didn’t want to burden anyone, okay? You weren’t supposed to find out, especially like this- ow, be gentle! My nose was broken a week ago, you could clean it softly, you know.”

“I am so mad at you right now, Steve, do not push me. You’ve been living out of your car for the past week-“ Wayne was definitely surprised at this point because he knows that the Harrington’s have a big house, “-and your dad gave you a concussion. What is this, number 5?”

“Okay, fine, yeah that part was stupid. I should have said something about the concussion. But what was I supposed to do? I don’t even know who told them about me and Eddie-“ He and Eddie? What about them, that they’re friends? It made sense in some way, to Wayne at least, that the Harrington’s would be upset about their son hanging out with Eddie but living in his car seems extreme. “-and the things he was saying…. I couldn’t listen to it, I had to say something. Even if it meant that I got kicked out and disowned.”

“Have you even told Eddie?”

“Absolutely not, he would blame himself and then offer to let me stay and I know Wayne barely tolerates me - not that I blame him, but it still sucks, I want him to like me. Me and Eddie… I feel like forever with him and if Wayne doesn’t even like me now, how would he respond to finding out the rest of it?” Everything seemed to click together for Wayne and he heard a sniff from the backroom like someone was trying not to cry. He himself felt like crying, because this boy had clearly been through a lot and someone had apparently outed him to his parents who beat him and kicked him out. Before Wayne could even recover from that bombshell the backroom door was swinging open and he was making eye contact with Steve Harrington. “Wayne-! I didn’t-Hi, uh, how long have you been in the store?”

“Long enough. Come by the trailer tonight and we’ll figure out where your stuff can go. You should probably call Ed though and let him know.” Wayne nodded his head and started to leave, very uncomfortable with the tension in the store, but he stopped to say one last thing as he was leaving. “As long as you and my boy take care of each other, you and I are gonna get along fine.”

Steve ended up moving into the trailer that night and Wayne gained a new perspective on him. They began watching sports together and he got to see the love his nephew had for Steve and vice versa clearly.

For Eddie, Joyce was also the first (she seemed to just collect sad kids). He had moved to Hawkins to live with Wayne only a few weeks before and he wandered into Melvald’s for some snacks. His hair was just starting to grow again and it was all sitting awkwardly on top of his head, his curls making strange shapes. Joyce took one look at him and was brought back to how Steve had looked all those years ago, how she and her kids were before Lonnie left, and she decided to step in again. She started by giving him some tips for his hair and then, just like with Steve, she started sneaking him little things over time. When she came back from California after Vecna they met again and she was so glad to see him, so happy that he seemed to fit in his own skin.

Claudia came next, unsurprisingly. The loud music and the distinct skunk-like odor that stuck to him (Claudia wasn’t stupid, she knew what that was) made her nervous. But after having known Steve for a couple years by then, she knew better than to judge from appearances and she was correct. Eddie was like another brother for Dustin, but while Steve complimented Dustin’s quirks and nerdy interests, Eddie shared them all and they seemed to feed off of each other’s energy. He was energetic and kind to her Dusty, and that is all she could ask for him to have in life.

The Sinclairs came to like Eddie after that, mostly for the same reasons that they liked Steve, but also because they had been told that Eddie nearly died to protect their kids.

Karen Wheeler always struggled being around Eddie despite how nice he was to her and to her kids - he reminded her of a mistake she once almost made with another boy who liked his music loud and angry. She did appreciate how Eddie managed to calm Mike’s angry outbursts, he pushed Nancy out of her comfort zone, he even let Holly braid his hair a couple times. Her favorite thing about him was how happy he made Steve (her soft spot for Steve hadn’t faded with time and seeing him so happy was a joy).

Hopper was the last to warm up to Eddie, not for lack of trying. Hopper knew that he should be more understanding, but since he had become a father again his paternal instincts had gotten worse. He hadn’t even realized that he saw Steve like that until Joyce made a comment about Steve and Eddie being close and he felt something oddly similar to what he experienced with Mike and El. He knew about Steve’s history with abandonment and alcohol and drugs, he also knew about Eddie’s tendency to run and his “job” in the woods. Hopper tried to remember that Joyce knew the kid, had said that he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but his instincts were telling him that Eddie was a bad influence. That didn’t change completely until he found out that Steve had apparently been kicked out because someone told his parents that he was dating Eddie and he had been living in his car for a week. He then found out that as soon as they found out, the Munsons had taken Steve in without hesitation - and Eddie had even slashed a couple tires at the Harrington house (Hopper pretended that he didn’t know that because he refused to press charges on the Harrington’s behalf). Hearing that Eddie had taken care of Steve when Hop hadn’t even known he needed it settled his nerves and put Eddie into his heart.

[arogaba]

The Gemstone Legacy Challenge

It's been a very long time since I last did a challenge, and in the days leading up to my new computer I decided to come up with some ideas for a future legacy challenge to more or less christen this bad boy. This is a 10 generation legacy with a fairly heavy focus on different family dynamics within certain generations.

Tag: 'gemstone legacy challenge' or @ me!

Rules:

✔ There are none! Have fun and follow the generational rules as you see fit!

Generation 1: Rose Quartz

‘You were raised as an only child by a single parent. It was a happy yet lonely life but you always wanted more: you wanted a large, hectic home, a loving spouse, and kids of your own. A surprise inheritance finally gives you that opportunity, and you move from the big city to a small country home, with all the room to grow that you could want!’

Recommended colour: light pink Recommended traits: nurturing, good, family-oriented, natural cook

Move to a small house on a large lot (50x50 or 60x60 is recommended!). This will be your primary legacy home throughout this challenge.

Begin working in the culinary career

Meet the one not long after moving to town. You quickly start dating and soon find yourself expecting your first child.

Get married after you have two children

After you have your third child, you decide to become a stay-at-home parent - you can continue to add to the household funds through various hobbies if you wish!

Have a total of five kids and one must be adopted!

Generation 2: Lapis Lazuli

‘You grew up in a loud, hectic family home. Whilst you didn't hate it, you always preferred the quiet, keeping your head down to focus on schoolwork and eventually your career. As a young adult, you throw yourself into the law enforcement career, but eventually realise that is not your true passion and decide to follow your dreams as your parent did many years ago.’

Recommended colour: dark blue and/or light blue Recommended traits: workaholic, genius, supernatural sceptic, loner

Finish high school with an ‘A’

Be a part of an after-school club in high school

Optional: Graduate as valedictorian

Join the law enforcement career after graduation

Meet your future partner (can be a work colleague)

Optional: Get married

Have at least two children 

After reaching level 5 of your career or becoming an adult, you decide to change your life and quit to become a ghost hunter

Separate or divorce from your partner but remain on good terms

Generation 3: Ruby

‘You came from a rather unusual family. Your grandparents married young and remained devoted all their lives; your parents divorced as adults, dividing your family. Like your grandparents, you want to find your soulmate, but unfortunately despite having a kind and loving heart, it does not come easy to you. After several failed relationships, you question if you will ever find the one, or whether your parents' failed love has doomed you.’

Recommended colour: red Recommended traits: flirty, irresistible, hopeless romantic, friendly, schmoozer

Have at least seven friends

Work a part-time job as a teenager before becoming a nectar maker as a young adult

Travel at least once to Champs Les Sims

Have three failed relationships before finding the one

Have two children

Throw or attend a party at least once a week

Generation 4: Onyx

‘You grew up in a happy, loving family, but you were always a little different. A quiet, shy thing, you preferred your solitude and books, instead of interacting with others or participating in parties like the rest of your family. As you grow older, the differences between you and the rest of your family cause a wedge to form, and you long to find someone who understands you. A chance encounter with an occult opens up a whole new world to you.’

Recommended colour: black and/or dark grey Recommended traits: bookworm, shy, grumpy, supernatural fan

Be close with your family as a child but start to grow apart as a teenager

Become enemies with your sibling

Become a writer

Meet your future partner at a park

They must be either a vampire or a witch

After two dates, allow yourself to be turned or become a witch

Move into an old, mysterious mansion (up to you as to how this looks!)

Have children

Generation 5: Bloodstone

‘You were born as an occult. Regardless of your opinion on the matter, you were raised to be the best vampire or witch you could be, not to be ashamed of who you were, nor to hide from others. Will you follow what's in your blood or fight to change your destiny?’

Recommended colour: dark green and red Recommended traits: genius, charismatic, virtuoso

Note: This generation can be played in two ways!

Vers. 1

Do not cure yourself and do not buy a cure

If a witch, you will become an alchemist and try to become a zombie master

If a vampire, you will become a fortune teller (scam branch) and will try to turn the town

Get married (partner must be a witch or vampire like yourself)

Have one child

Vers. 2

Do not cure yourself but try to find the cure or make it yourself 

If a witch, follow the alchemy artisan LTW

If a vampire, join the music career (symphonic branch)

If playing as a witch, you can only use positive spells/charms and potions

If playing as a vampire, you cannot drink from anyone (save for your partner, if you wish) and must feed yourself by plasmafruit

Get married (partner must be a witch or vampire like yourself)

Have one child

Make or purchase the cure for your condition, but do not use it on yourself 

Generation 6: Pearl

‘Your parent may or may not have been able to cure themselves, but you will not fail. You hear of a cure being advertised at the local laboratory. It seems too good to be true but you take a chance and are rewarded for your efforts. Congratulations, you are now a human. A new life reveals itself in front of you and you can live as you see fit. You've always been a compassionate soul and decide to join the medical career to help and heal others.’

Recommended colour: white or pale grey Recommended traits: socially awkward, genius, workaholic, heavy sleeper, nurturing

Become human (use either the cure from your parent, or go to the science lab)

Join the medical career

Master the logic skill

Move back to the old legacy home

Never get married, you may date and have a partner, but you cannot marry them

Have your first and only child as an adult

Move the other parent of your child into the family (up to you whether you live as a couple or not)

Generation 7: Citrine

‘You have a rather unconventional family and an upbringing that's different from most. You love your parents but find their lives too neat and too clinical. With or without their approval, you decide to become a performer, it's less stable than their careers but it brings you joy, and perhaps you can bring others joy along the way too!'

Recommended colour: pale orange, yellow, and/or white Recommended traits: charismatic, natural born performer, friendly

Join one of the ‘performer’ careers as a YA (in this case it is counting as singer, magician, or acrobat)

Master at least one instrument

Have ten friends

Have children with at least two different sims

Get married 

Become a celebrity 

Generation 8: Moss Agate

‘As a child, you loved living the high life thanks to your famous parent. However, as you grew older, you began to resent that lifestyle, hating the paparazzi and the lack of privacy. People always speculated you might follow in their footsteps, but as a teenager you discover your green thumb, before taking a leap and deciding to live as a farmer as an adult.’

Recommended colour: pale green, dark green, and/or white Recommended traits: green thumb, animal lover, gatherer

As a child, focus on either painting or the violin skill, before dropping it in high school

Start building your gardening skill in high school

After graduating, make a sudden purchase of a farm

Work as a ‘farmer’ with most of your income coming from selling your produce

Own a large pet (dog, cat, or horse)

Optional: raise said pet from their youngest lifestage

Get married 

Have kids

Generation 9: Aquamarine

‘Born on a farm, you understood  and appreciated the value of hard work from a young age. Despite your love for your home, you have other dreams, and from a young age have a passion for swimming. As an adult, you decide to become a lifeguard, spending time by the water, and saving lives at the same time.’

Recommended colour: pale turquoise Recommended traits: loves to swim, angler, athletic, disciplined

Join the lifeguard career as a YA

Master the athletic and fishing skills

Meet a mermaid

Get married

Have two kids

Generation 10: Moonstone 

‘You were always a little different from the rest of your family. An eccentric dreamer amongst a family of grounded rationalists. You love painting and exploring the mysteries of the world. One night, a chance encounter with a mysterious sim turns you into an occult, and suddenly your life is flipped upside down.’

Recommended colour: pastel colours and white Recommended traits: eccentric, good, childish, artistic

Become a painter or a sculptor as a YA

Master painting, sculpting, and writing

Meet either a fairy or werewolf at night and become one

After becoming a fairy or werewolf, change your lifetime wish to either: leader of the pack (if a werewolf), or greener gardens/magic makeover (if a fairy)

Optional: travel and live in the future 

Optional: get married and have kids

[writingquestionsanswered]

I have a small question where I would like to hear your opinion on. My MC died in her original world and was reborn into a new one. So she died at 27 and started back again at 2 years old from the body she took over. She is mentally at the original age. So my hiccup is that the story take place when she is 25 in the new world and I'm having a bit of a hard time figuring out how to have her carry herself. Theoretically, she is mentally in her 50's but 25 physically. How should I go on to write her personality? I don't want to say I want her to "act old", but what are some things that might be different between a 25 year old and a 50 year old and how could I best make her more mature? Should I make her more immature in the beginning (pre-death) So that change could be put in place?

Character is Mentally Older Due to Reincarnation

Here's the problem... there are two things needed in order for someone to mature: physical development and emotional development through experience. If your character died at 27, not only is that about the time that brains stop physically developing anyway, she also does not go through any further emotional development through experience.

Even if she is "mentally 27" when she is transported to the body of the two-year old, and even if we say her mental age somehow overrides the physical capabilities of a two-year-old brain, the kinds of experiences she's having over the 23 years in her second body aren't the kinds of experiences that are going to add significantly to her emotional experience. These are all things she has already experienced and learned in her first life. As a 2 to 25-year-old, she's not gaining a lot of experience in things like career, marriage, parenting, layoffs, career changes, divorce, single parenting, dating after divorce, caring for aging parents, etc. Instead, she's experiencing some of the things (again) that are natural for 2 to 25-year-olds to experience, like going to school, making friends, trying to get good grades, social drama, first kiss, first love, learning to drive, first job, graduation, going to college, first-time independence, getting to vote, serious relationships and serious break-ups, perhaps even getting married and having a kid or two, though not getting very far into that.

So, my point is, your character has to live the life of a 25 to 50-year-old in order to gain the experience and maturity of a 25 to 50-year-old brain.

BUT... having said that, I am speaking to you as a person who has lived the life of a 25 to 50-year-old, and I don't feel mentally different from who I was when I was 25. Maybe a little, but not significantly. I have certainly experienced a lot of things during those 25 years, but I still like a lot of the same things, still do a lot of the same things, still think and feel a lot of the same things. I still wear clothes (sweaters, jackets, and coats, mostly) I wore when I was 25. I still watch a lot of the same TV shows and movies, and like a lot of the same music. But also... I'm sitting over here singing to songs that are popular on the radio, watching TV shows that are popular with the 15 to 30 crowd, and comfortably conversing with family members who are in their teens and 20s.

So, a part of it, too, is that once you get past a certain age (mid-20s, really, when the brain stops developing), there's not always this catastrophic difference between who a person is at 25 and who they are at 50 or 70. I mean, there can be... there are definitely those adults who turn into weird adulty robots who feel like they can only drink wine, eat salmon, play golf, and throw wine and cheese parties, but not everyone is like that. Most people aren't. You'll get into your fifties and laugh that you thought you'd be so significantly different from 25-year-old you. :)

Another issue to consider is this: if your character is a 27-year-old trapped in a 2-year-old's body, does that make her like Stewie Griffin, except that's the way she actually sounds to everyone around her. Do you have a two-year-old sitting in the baby seat in the shopping cart at Target, looking at her "new" mother and literally saying out loud, "Oh, Diane... please tell me you're not thinking about buying that. You know how gluten wrecks your stomach. Put it back and get the gluten free one, would you?" Or, do you have a 27-year-old woman who has to pretend to be a two-year-old, and has to sit there making baby talk and saying things like, "Ma-ma... can get cookie? Pwweeeease?" It's really awkward, to be honest, and I can't imagine how mentally taxing, frustrating, and demeaning it would be for your character.

So... what to do? There are two options that I can see, but keep an eye on the reblogs in case anyone else has a suggestion:

1 - Compartmentalize her adult consciousness from her two-year-old consciousness until she's maybe ten or twelve. So, almost like she's a prisoner inside the body of a child, but she doesn't know what it's thinking and can't control what it says or does. Like they're two independent beings and she's just along for the ride, silently commentating and even trying to get through to the kid to little or no avail. Maybe sometimes, if she mentally screams loud enough, she pops into the child's consciousness as a subconscious thought. Then, for whatever reason, as the child ages, her voice gets through more and more, and she gains control of what the child says and does little by little, until finally she has fully become the child when it's maybe 12 or 15 or whatever age you think makes sense. So, that might look something like this:

Childhood: I'm dressed in my--rather, Bella's--favorite Bluey shirt and a pair of shorts. The birthday party is at an indoor play area called Bounce, and I can almost feel Bella's excitement as she drops her gift off at the table and runs to join the other kids on a giant trampoline. They didn't really have places like this when I was a kid--the first time, I mean. My next door neighbors--the Andersons--they had a trampoline in their backyard, the kind with the net cage around it, but my parents wouldn't let me jump on it except during neighborhood parties when there were lots of parents watching. At least I... Bella... will sleep well tonight.

Teens: "Hey, Bella!" Maxine said as I joined her at the lockers. "Are you going to Brant's party tomorrow night?" Ugh, Brant's party. I had forgotten about that. What an absolute turd. He reminds me too much of this guy Jared I dated briefly in college, in my first life. I'm obviously not going to tell Maxine that. "Nah," I say at last. "I don't like that guy enough to go to his party." "Why don't you like him? I think he's cool!" "Oh, he just reminds me of someone I used to know. Wanna head to lunch?"

2 - Give the adult consciousness a bit of amnesia and have her start to remember things over time. In this sense, there would still be some compartmentalization early on as far as being a separate consciousness from the child's, but in this sense she would be less like an adult imprisoned in a child's body, along for the ride and commenting from the peanut gallery, and more like a faint awareness that is more distant, but becomes more aware and close as time goes on. That might look something like this:

Child: Bella is wears her favorite Bluey shirt to the birthday party. She is such a happy, friendly child. The other kids welcome her with smiles and open arms as she joins them on the trampoline. I wonder if I went to parties like this in my first life?

Teen: Bella's friend--my friend--Maxine greets me as I join her by the lockers. "Are you going to Brant's party tonight?" My stomach sours at the thought of that guy, though I don't know why. Perhaps I knew someone like him in my past life. The name Jared suddenly pops into my head, and I briefly wonder what this guy did to past life me that I carried dislike for him into my second life. Not wanting to get into all that, I make an excuse about having to help my mom wallpaper the guest room. "See you on Sunday, though, so we can study for the test?" "Yeah, see you then," Maxine says, closing her locker. She smiles, but I can tell she's a little salty. She knows social gatherings exhaust me, though. Sometimes I wish I could tell her why--that I've been through all of this before, not even that long ago. But she wouldn't understand.

So, in either case, you're not really worrying too much about the nuances of maturity, but rather a general "adult" perspective as it relates to this child whose body it's inhabiting.

Anyway, I hope that helps! Edited to add: see a related question here.

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

You’re writing is so good, just had to get that out of the way.

I’d love to see an x reader with Johnny where the reader goes with him back to Knoxville to his childhood home

Down Home Christmas

Y/N doesn’t know what to expect when Johnny asks her to go with him to visit his folks for the holidays, but she has a Christmas she’ll never forget!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

1.6k Words

Warnings: Drinking, kissing, shit, play fighting

An: Thank you so much for the request and happy holidays if you celebrate!!!! So sorry for the wait but I thought this would make an amazing holiday special :) I’m sure we’ve all had experiences with family holiday parties, and this in part is inspired by my own whacky extended family! One of my friends suggested that I look to the film Four Christmases (2008) for an idea of what Johnny’s family may be like, so I’m sure you can see some of the inspiration there XD Anyway, thank you for the request and please keep them coming!

As you walked up to the front door from where your taxi dropped you off, the snow was painted rainbow colors from the bright Christmas lights strung about the house as powder crunched under your feet. Breathing puffs of hot air on your hands, you cursed yourself for not wearing gloves as you rang the doorbell. Oh, but it was all worth it when you saw Johnny running to the door like he was a kid on Christmas morning, all smiles. Throwing the screen door hard enough to nearly break it, he practically tackled you into the snow when he hugged you, burying you in the warmth of his arms, “Y/N, honey! M’so great to see you!”

He showed you inside the house- tiny, but god, was it packed. The place radiated this human warmth, the air swimming with smells of festive spices that made you practically drool. Holding your frigid hand in his, Johnny led you to the kitchen where those wonderful smells were coming from. As you squeezed past the people clustered in the front hall, Johnny gave you the rundown on a few notable characters you wiggled past, “Oh! That’s Aunt Dotty- her girl does pageants, Earl over there’s gotta taxidermy gig on the side, and Maureen’s the proud mom’a those five little maniacs out back playin’ with the ax.”

As the two of you stopped in the doorway, you ogled the heavenly spread of food on the table as your boyfriend called to a woman who stood at the stove, “Hey, mama!” She turned around and Johnny nudged you towards her a little, sounding so proud as he showed you off excitedly, “This is Y/N!” She turned away from the pots and her face just lit up, walking over to you and giving you one of those heart melting mom hugs, “Oh, my PJ’s finally gotta girl! I’m so happy’t meet you, sweetheart!” You were initially a little supprised- you weren't used to this kind of touchy-feely southern hospitality, but strangely enough, it didn't feel weird. It was actually pretty nice. Pulling back, she smiled teasingly as she noticed that look in your eyes, “What’s the matter? You're lookin’ like you haven't eaten all day!”

“That’s not it- I’ve just never seen that much food before. It’s just…wow.” The most your family ever did was maybe a turkey, nothing like the banquet this miracle woman had prepared. Johnny could’ve sworn he saw you drool a little. He chuckled, charmed at how enamored you seemed by something so basic to him, a grin spreading across his face as he handed you a plate, “C’mon, fill up, girlie!”

There were people sitting just about everywhere in the living room. Little kids clustered on the beige carpet around the Christmas tree with toy cars and dolls, parents and grandparents all had seats on the floral upholstered furniture talking sports or politics or whatever, leaving you and the adult children to fit in wherever you could. You and Johnny shared the seat in front of the oak piano at one end of the room with a couple other people sitting on the closed lid of the piano itself, all drinking and sharing stories together like a scene right out of one of those hallmark movies, only maybe a little less conventional.

“So that’s why m’cousin Dusty’s not allowed to show off his ‘talent’ at family gatherings anymore.” Johnny chuckled, taking a bite of his sweet potato casserole as the room buzzed with laughter. It was a wonder how he could make even the grossest subjects hilarious. Even you couldn’t keep from cracking up, placing your plate on the coffee table, “Hey, speaking of, d’ya know where the bathroom is?” Standing up, Johnny gestured for you to follow him, stepping carefully around people.

He led you down a dim hallway stopping in front of a wall when his eye caught something, “Hey, check this out.” Johnny took a picture off of a nail on the wall and handed it to you. Through the darkness, you could make out most of the general features. It was your boyfriend and he looked pretty young in the photo, maybe around high school age, but god, it was awful. “You actually had a mullet?” He broke out into snickers and you quickly followed as he tried to stabilize himself against the wall, his voice shaking from laughter, “I mean, business in the front, party in the back- It was nineteen eighty nine!” Once one of you caught your breath, your eyes would inevitably drift down to that damn photo and you would succumb yet again, the two of you laughing there until you had tears running down your faces.

Aunt Lynn excitedly passed you a tray of horderves- Ritz crackers with spray cheese on top- as you sat back down, “Oh, honey! You’re just in time!” Confused, you looked up to your boyfriend when he stood up with this little glin of anticipation in his eye as the people sitting in the center of the room cleared out, pushing away furniture to form a circle. A freckle faced kid at your feet took a cracker himself, making weird eye contact with you as he licked the cheese right off. Pushing aside all speculation, you shoved your cracker into your mouth. Not half bad.

Johnny stood with his stance wide and low at one end of the circle, starting up some friendly trash talk, “Hey, how’d your last tour go, Rodge?” Johnny’s cousin Rodger, the one that was a country musician, glared at him from the opposite side, “Yeah? Why don’t we talk about that last movie y’did?” Your boyfriend’s eye twitched and in an instant he was on him and the two started fighting like animals. Johnny had his hands around the other man’s neck as he swung his long legs up to try and pin him but his weight wasn’t enough leverage to take Rodger down. The whole room roared as a scene straight out of a backyard wrestling tape played out when Johnny was slammed onto the carpet, landing on his back hard enough to knock the wind out of him. On the side, someone started a count and Rodger leaned back, grinning as he held him down, “I think you lost your edge, Holl’awood.” Just as quickly, your boyfriend gasped, catching his breath with an exhausted smile. He slipped to one side and lunged forward with gritted teeth, throwing him into a headlock, “No way! You’re goin’ down, hoss.”

They went at it for maybe ten minutes and even you couldn’t help yourself from getting caught up in all the excitement, cheering and whooping with the rest of his family. “Ah! Uncle! Uncle!” Panting, Johnny tapped the ground next to him as a plea for mercy. You should’ve known- your boyfriend had a physique comparable to Gumby. Rodge pulled away with a smirk on his face, giving him a playful shove, “Always knew y’were a pussy, cuz. Love ya.” It was an oddly sweet moment between the two of them, even as Johnny sat up, coughing a little with a faint smile on his face as he got in one last jab, “Beatin’ me don’t mean shit. S’like beating a girl!”

And the night went on, with just as much laughing and drinking and bad behavior, but once midnight rolled around, people started peeling off. Johnny spent the later part of the evening clinging to your side, surprisingly sappy as he begged you to stay a while longer, “D’aww, c’mon…just one night won’t hurt.” Maybe you were more tipsy than you thought, judging from how nice that idea sounded. Sipping your rum punch- the one you got out of the big bowl with the ice ring of fruit- you giggled, laying your head on his shoulder,“I can’t…I gotta be at work t’morow!” You never knew your boyfriend to be a sentimental drunk but maybe coming home flipped some switch in him. Either that or you.

Johnny followed you like a lost dog as you got up to get your coat on, squeezing past the people trickling out the door, “But’cha gotta promise to call me, okay?” The headlights on the taxi you called shined bright in the darkness as it sat parked outside. You slipped your shoes on, “I promise!” As you were about to leave, someone stopped you in the doorway with a tap on your shoulder. It was of Johnny’s cousins. He grinned, pointing upward at the sprig of mistletoe hung above you, “Hey, mistletoe. You know what that means!”

“Yeah.” Your boyfriend chuckled, shoving him out of the way. Johnny looked down at you lovingly, wrapping his arms around you, his voice low as he nearly whispered an inch from your face, “I know exactly what that means.” Pulling you close, he dipped you, giving you a kiss like a soldier who just came back after the war. You didn’t even notice the cold that nipped at your skin as the onlookers inside whooped and hollered at the spectacle Johnny was putting on, kissing you with fervor, only pulling away an inch or two to catch his breath, the warm air between you turning into little puffs of white smoke as it began to snow.

[rom-e-o]

Imagine one of little pups or Sundrops finding out about their father's past and perhaps even their mother's (at least, the uncharitable , gossipy interpretations of their pasts) before their parents got the chance to explain it to them. They're still young, probably just double digits, maybe not quite that even, and are maybe running around a holiday party the Scrooge's are throwing. Maybe this is a slightly more business associate filled party, and the little ones overhear some badmouthing about their parents from some more pompous and snooty attendees.

Or maybe some of the associates' children playing with them make some comments.

"My dad says your dad is a heartless monster who steals and hides away money like a rat bastard."

"That's not true! The only thing my dad ever stole is my mum's heart. He doesn't steal money!"

"Sure he did. My dad says there was even a time when all of London feared your dad because if they didn't give him the money he wanted from them he'd take everything else they had instead."

"That's a lie!"

"No it isn't. My dad said so, and my dad's right about everything."

"My dad isn't a heartless monster!"

"Sure he is."

"No, he isn't! My dad helps people! He builds things to help people in need and gives money to people who need it! And he loves me and my mama!"

"He doesn't love your mum, he just uses her to keep his bed warm--that's what my mum says. She says your mum is nothing but a Yankee whore and needed a place to stay and someone to take care of her, so she spread her legs for your dad."

"You're lying! You're lying! You don't know my mum and dad! You're just a big, stupid bully who doesn't know anything! And your mum and dad are just big, stupid bullies too!"

Cue child-sized brouhaha.

Oh deaaaar. It was only a matter of time before that gossip that the couples deal with from the paparazzi reaches the kids as a result of trickle down from their parents.

And, of course, it all comes to a head at a Christmas party that these ‘friends’ were invited to for merriment and to celebrate the holiday season.

And the poor Pups and Sundrops. It’s a delicate conversation, and there is LOTS of nuance. All four adults have PASTS, filled with some very difficult traumas and things that kids, teens, and young adults alike (hell, all adults) struggle to cope with. They’re not quite old enough for it, but of course, people talk … and their kids talk.

Let’s face it, these kids are probably miserable as jealous of the the Scrooge brothers and their families as their parents are. They see the wealth, the galas, the cars the fathers drive and the clothes they all wear. Hell, the party is a showcase of their big pocketbooks (in a fun and elegant way for guests, not as a vulgar display). They don’t understand how much they give to charity, not do they care.

The Pups and Sundrops, however, SEE all the work and charity their parents do.

“You’re just jealous!” they yell.

“Jealous of your whore mum and your crooked dad? Ha!”

As the kids fight, it draws the attention of the other partygoers. People start to whisper and gossip, watching (and not intervening). Once the kids start hitting each other is around the time the parents get wind and rush over.

The other children’s parents run in and try to make excuses out of it to Wolf/Adonis, while Bess/Connie hold their child.

“Sweetheart-“

“They were LYING, mum/mama! They said all these terrible things! They called you and papa terrible names, a-and I hit them! Because they were lying! Lying, lying!”

“Shhh, shhhhh, it’s okay, honey.”

Later on, after the hubbub calms down, I imagine there is … quite the conversation. First, about not hitting. Secondly, bout their father and mother’s past. I don’t think either couple would go into full detail about EVERYTHING (that’s a 18+conversation) but they do thrive them the overview.

“For a long time, I … was not a kind man, my child. It’s true.”

“I-It’s true? B-But it can’t be!”

“I’ve worked very hard to try and make up for my mistakes, but you cannot run from your past. I was not a very nice man for many years - I worked people to the bone, and hounded people for the money they owed. I need you to know, my child, that I regret those days with all my heart. I take accountability for those times, but I assure you, I am not the man I was, and I continue to strive to be better.”

“…(sniff) A-And mum/mama, you’re… you didn’t just marry papa for money, right?”

“No, darling. I fell in love with your father’s wonderful heart. I saw all the money he gives to charities, and that made me admire him even more.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Darling, we appreciate you defending us, but please…never endanger yourself for us. We love you too much, okay? Your safety is more important than the opinions of some (whispers) stupid bullies, okay?”

“Hehe. O-Okay.” 🥹💕

[joealwyndefenseattorney]

Allow me to enter the "adult conversation". I want to answer to that anon aswell.

why didn't he show up for taylor when she needed support?

what do you even mean? As in public or private? Cause privately you don't know anything and if she stayed with him for years clearly he was doing something right. If you mean in public, first of all how do you know Taylor needed support and how do you know when she needed it? Did you expect him to drop everything and go to every single event of hers? Which is kind of hard given that she's constantly doing things and he has a job unlike what you all think. And he did supported her by the way they way

Why was he resentful of her success?

who told you he was resentful of anything? The voices in your head?

Why didn't he go with her to several awards shows? Including the Grammys!

which awards shows exactly are you referring to? Because the usual examples swifties give were on dates he was working. Funny you should mention the Grammys cause he was in the backstage of the 2022 Grammys, when even the relationship was mostly likely dead. If you mean the 2021 Grammys, he was filming. There was a pandemic and travel restrictions. Even if he could have gone, he would have to stay in quarantine before and after obviously messing up the filming schedule

Why did he party in her house whilst ignoring her all the time?

I'm sick of this party story you all got from out of nowhere. And apparently somehow even for the scope he ignored her at said party. First of all, they were living together on that house, as much as you think otherwise it wasn't her house. It was their house, as partners of years who already lived together anyway. He was not a high school kid having to ask for permission from his parents to throw a party. So if he did use the house to throw a party, it's not this outrageous thing you make it out to be. Let me remind you Taylor met and was friend with his co-stars aswell.

Why did he want her to not be as famous as she is now while Travis is very open to it?

Again, who told you he didn't want her to be famous? And I'm guessing you must be a teenager because asking why one person is ok with something someone else isn't is screaming I don't have life experiences. Think about it, if you like tomatoes does that mean everyone likes tomatoes? Ofc not, because we all have different tastes. So why does Travis loves fame and Joe doesn't? Obviously because they are two different people. And quite clearly not only Travis is ok with Taylor's fame, he also loves it and wants to be famous too.

Taylor wanted to be loved out loud but joe always seemed embarrassed by her.

if Taylor wants to be loved out loud good for her, but not everyone does and not everyone has the same love language. If she wanted that, that bad then she should have left Joe earlier cause he shouldn't change who he is to please her. They were together for years, she had plenty of time to realize he couldn't give what she wanted.

And if you mean he was embarassed as in I'm trying to do my job and promote it and people want to know about my personal life instead... that's just you thinking he should have given you content

Why didn't he answer what his fave taylor song was?

Again, because the interviews were about his job not personal life. Because he didn't want to, which is more than enough reason. Because you are not entitled to know about it anyway lol also that question was made back in 2018 when they were very much still very closed off. Maybe after folkore they would have had more luck. The only person entitled to know was Taylor and I'm sure she did so

Why did it always seem like he hated us, the fans?

As he should???? You are all fucking annoying and vile. And if he didn't hate you before, after how you all treated him over the last year he has more than reasons to. If you want the serious answer, he wasn't obliged to love any of you. He wasn't in a relationship with any of you. Get that in your skull. The person he loved was Taylor and that was the person he was in a relationship with. The reason you like Travis is because he's bootlicking you, but I assure you that's not the normal thing. Anyone normal doesn't care to appease and try her gf's fans to like you. The most he should do is respect you and not treat you badly and Joe always followed that. But ofc he didn't care beyond that. Why should he?

Why did he interact with several of his female co stars but locked her away in the basement of his heart?

not the basement. Like stop with this quoting her lyrics as a form of criticism. It's cringe as hell. Also he interacted with his co-stars (regardless of gender) yeah. Did you want him to just ignore them??? In which planet do you live?

Or literally not see she was depressed as he left her behind at home (caging her) while he went to the bar?

Not caging her. Stop you're ridiculous. Taylor wasn't chained at home. If she wanted to go out no one would stop her. Stop being ridiculous ffs. What bar are you even talking about? Is this about the black dog song which not only is post breakup but not even about him? And guess what, by Taylor's own words he was also depressed. So you can also ask yourself, why should he have empathy for her depression when he was depressed and she talks about it like a burden?

[artdcnaldson]

your post about the college experience kind of hit me because i feel like i had no college experience. went for three years, lived at home and i wasn't allowed to attend social events or go out after dark or with friends my parents didn't know. as a result i feel pretty behind my peers now as an adult in all ways :/

I went to community for 2 years, lived at home, didn’t date, my friends all moved away and lost touch. Went to big university during covid, so no in person classes until my last semesters. I had like 1 friend who I would hang out with, never dated bc at that point I was so far behind just thinking about dating felt like impossible and I’d get so nauseous I would throw up.

I’m in the same boat. It feels like I’m still working to check boxes most people check by fifteen, like I’m a decade late, you know?

I also have very fuzzy memories of being in college. I don’t remember most things about my experience bc I was on such a high dose SSRI that I can’t remember how I met people or what my classes were or what I did day to day. I kind of just was a zombie.

Anyways we visited my brother today to go drop off more things and finish moving him in and he’s already got so many friends and he’s doing fun stuff and it’s hard not to feel jealous but like it’s not his fault that he’s doing things right it’s my fault for never leaving my comfort zone.

Sorry for the rant hehe I promise I’ll write something fun or smutty or smth to make up for my pity party

[emjee]

forgive me if this is an unwelcome suggestion, just delete if so—but if it's an option for you regionally & healthwise the best way i've found to meet people i actually want to get to know has been contra dance events? i'm of a similar age to you & new to a bigger city right now. and while the events i've gone to do skew towards adults who could be my parents there is a strong contingent of cool 20s-40s folks i'm hopeful about befriending.

i never got the chance to go when i lived in a smaller town in a red state but i know there WERE contra events there too & that some really cool people i'd tangentially known in high school were regular attendees. & it's one of the types of non-bar-centric social events that i've most reliably found in online friends' locations too, however big a city they live in.

i haven't had the capacity to throw myself in headfirst since moving, but am hoping to because the group of people here seems to also be into the more board games/pickling parties/biking and rollerskating/crafting style events than Going To The Bar as a main way of hanging out, and from what i very distantly knew of the community where i used to live they didn't have 1:1 events & interests but it was a crowd of a similar speed.

if it's something that would match for the kind of social connection you're looking for i hope there are events with cool people in your area, & i hope if this all was off the mark that it at least didn't make your day less pleasant. 💛

This is a very kind suggestion and I appreciate it. It’s exactly the sort of thing I enjoy and I’ve looked it up and the closest meetups aren’t in my part of the state :/ I’m running into this problem a lot—even the sorts of things I did when I was in college have been taken out at the knees by the pandemic and people just aren’t meeting up to do them anymore (Sacred Harp I miss yooooou). I live in a city that’s arguably the love of my life but I’m trying to figure out how to get it to love me back.

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Inspired by some posts I've seen on my dash recently that had me THINKING... So imagine with me for a moment

Callahan is actually Phillip Callahan Harrington. Just. Picture it for a second...

He's born 8 1/2 months after [what's his name] Harrington marries his highschool sweetheart right out of highschool in a beautiful but kind of rushed ceremony. They immediately jet off on some months long honeymoon trip across Europe then stop in New York to visit the extended Harrington clan and come back to Hawkins with a bouncing baby boy. It is a well known secret that obviously [have they named her yet] Harrington nee [Idk, Callahan? To explain Phil's middle name] was pregnant when they got married and they tried to hide it but that's the sort of thing you just can't hide in a small town.

Life goes on and Adultering Asshole Harrington has a near miss with a young secretary so Mrs. Socialite Save Face Harrington decides they should have another baby. Especially since their first son was not living up to Harrington expectations. So they have Steve. Phil isn't sure about the baby they bring home just after Christmas (Or Halloween? Not sure which I like better tbh) but Mom says babies make families happy so maybe mom and dad will argue less.

They don't. Phil tries to protect his baby brother best he can but there's only so much he can do when the kid refuses to see what pieces of shit their parents are. As soon as he turns 18 he does what he needs to join the police force because his father seemed to hate that he could never buy the Hawkins police department and Phillip wants that. He wants to be able to tell his father no and know that the man just has to accept it.

He stays in touch with Steve who asks why his name tag by his badge says Callahan (his middle name) and he tells his baby brother that he wants as little to do with their folks as possible. Life goes on and Jim Hopper comes back to town in '79 just as his folks basically leave for good. He's 23 and Steve is just turned 13 and he does what he can to help the kid, stays over most weekdays only heading to his small apartment when Steve has groups of friends over or the two brothers just need some space from each other. By the time Steve is a Junior (about 16/17) Phil is only staying over when Steve asks or if the chief and Powell are on his case about the parties his kid brother, "King Steve" as they've heard some of the youth calling him, keeps throwing and the only way he knows to make sure Steve doesn't host a rager is if the kid knows he's in the house.

Then Will Byers goes missing shortly followed by the Holland girl. Nancy Wheeler confesses the two girls were at a small 'party' at the Harrington place and Phil isn't able to intercept Flo before she calls his folks, he calls Steve to warn him their parents might be making a visit once the secretary forwards Flo's message about Steve's peripheral involvement in the case

[i-heart-yellowstone]

11 - One Without the Other

Part 12

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

What do y’all want to see next in this story??? More moments between Alissa and Kayce? More moments with Alissa and Ryan??? Have Alissa have more interaction with her own family / more with the other Dutton’s???

Riding up on horseback to the barn I had taken a break from tending to the cattle needing to check on my daughter. Slowing my horse down to a trot I tilted my head in confusion seeing Beth’s vehicle sitting in the driveway which was uncommon on this ranch. Putting my horse inside the barn I dismounted going up on the porch steps to find her waiting for me. “Bethany Dutton, what are you doin’ out here on our property?”

“There’s a threat coming for our families. I was hoping to come and talk to your parents about this.” She explained with one leg crossed over the other one.

The front door opened and both my parents came outside clearly seeing she was here. My father sat down in the big rocking chair with my mother sitting on the swing with me. “What are you doing out here, Bethany?” He asked her using her full name rather then her short name.

She sternly looked at my parents. “I’m here to warn you about a threat to my family who will soon be coming for your land sooner rather than later.”

“What kind of threat?” My mom asked her.

Beth didn't sugarcode it. “A fucking airport and casino that goes through my father’s land and will likely connect across yours. Where all of this land is gone forever and becomes just like where the new people here come from. They'll turn this land into those populated cities of shit.”

“How do we start stopping this attack?”

The only Dutton daughter brushed her hair out of her face. “I have been thinking it in my head lately and I've only had one solution. You or Kayce would need to become the new Livestock Commission when my father goes to step down. Kelsea is coming back into town and I know you and her were close until the night of her party.”

“That could certainly be doable. Alissa-” My father called my name seeing me force myself up and into the house slamming it without a single word uttered from me. I couldn't even hear his name recently.

Kelsea Northwest was the mayor's daughter before he resigned ten years later. She was everything the town's daughter should be, until she was around her friends. Then we all knew her as the party queen of Montana. Walking through the woods Kayce and I came upon a burning campfire that was sat up.

“Kayce! Lissa!” A familiar voice broke through the crowd of people with a bright set of blonde hair, tackled us into a bear hug once reaching us. “I'm glad you guys could make it. The dudes are messing with the fire and the girls are playing beer pong.”

“Sounds Good - woah uh bye Kace.” She tugged me forward away from him.

Kayce chuckled shaking his head at one of our friends. “You stealing my girlfriend already?”

“I'll bring her back, Dutton…eventually.” Kelsea snorted out a laugh.

Kelsea, me and a few of our other girlfriends chose to play beer bong that was set up by the fire. I was waiting for my turn getting caught off guard by my friend’s question. “So are you and Kayce thinking about getting married soon?”

“What!” I coughed out some of the drink I had drank from my red solo cup.

Kelsea flipped some of her hair out of her face. “Oh come on Alissa. Everybody can see the chemistry between you two. Plus I’ve never seen either of you without the other not far behind.”

“I really like him, I do. But-“

She throws her hands up in the air. “But what marry the Dutton already?”

“We’re only sixteen , Kelesa. We don’t have to rush and become adults and marry unless he gets me pregnant. I really like him and we’re in a good place right now. I don’t see the need to rush that.”

The mayor’s daughter squeezed my shoulder. “I have high hopes you’ll soon be a Dutton.” I grabbed her hand dragging her back in over to the game ending that conversation.

It had been a little while where I decided to go search for my boyfriend since we hadn’t really spent time together tonight. I walked around the area with a flashlight and a drink in my hand searching for my boyfriend in the dark. Stopping in my tracks I heard a noise in the bushes where I peaked over the plant gasping covering my eyes with my hand. “Oh my god! Kayce.”

“L-Lissa?” He lifted his head up laying with a native American girl, both of them completely naked and laid underneath their jackets.

Throwing the red solo cup full of beer at the pair I stomped off that night. “Go to hell!” That was the night he had gotten her pregnant and started all this nonsense ten years later.

Kayce had finished with his work for the day knowing he couldn't give his best friend anymore space. He needed to tell her how sorry he was. He needed to tell her that he knew he had screwed up. Helping take care of Monica hadn't been fun for him. He only really cared about making Tate happy. He pulled the truck to a stop at the Lambert house getting out of the vehicle heading up the front porch. “Maybe we should start doing this in the barn. Surely we can't hide from your family forever.”

“Ryan?” Kayce bared his teeth not expecting to hear his father's ranch hand inside the house.

Alissa came around by the window where I ducked down thinking she saw me waiting a minute before I slowly peaked my head back through the window. “We don’t have to hide in the barn. Plus I thought we were doing this with no strings attached meaning you have nothing to be afraid of, especially getting caught.”

“Oh my god.” He cursed low under his breath getting sick when he saw her kiss him causing him to run back to the truck and head back on our side of the fence line, hitting his hands angrily on the steering wheel knowing he’d screwed up as a husband now.

[stonesparrow]

Early Riser Ch. 3

My Senku-Wakes-Up-Early AU where Senku wakes up 10 years after the petrification.

Chapter 2

By the time they manage to get to the bank where Yuzuriha’s dad works, she’s made a very compelling argument for reviving him, if only because he can, yknow. Actually drive.

Senku concedes the point with only some minimal protests about how he’s totally improving on the driving front, and notes the fact that it probably would be a good idea to have at least one adult in their party since the farmers in northern Kanto probably won’t take three fifteen-year-olds very seriously, potentially jeopardizing the overall mission.

Yuzuriha says she’d be okay with reviving only her dad since she knows their revival fluid supplies are limited, but Senku shrugs and says it’d be better for their psychological well being to bring her mom along too. Plus more bodies is still more bodies, especially since even with Taiju lugging around a bunch of stuff is getting to be a bit tiring. He pretends not to see how Yuzuriha obviously deflates in relief and gratitude when he mentions this.

And so Ogawa Makoto is the fifth person to wake up in this strange new world.

Yuzuriha throws her arms around her dad as soon as he starts breathing again, and he blinks down at them curiously as he hugs her back.

“You know, I suspected the three of you might have something up your sleeves when everything went dark,” he remarks nonchalantly as he takes in the petrified bank workers and customers. “So, any particular reason you woke me up?”

“You’re weirdly relaxed about all this,” Senku remarks, eyebrow raised. Mr. Ogawa has always been a pretty chill guy (a good thing, considering the shenanigans his daughter and her friends get up to), but being so nonchalant about waking up in the post-apocalypse feels like a bit of a stretch. 

He shrugs. “Eh, I’m just well practiced in compartmentalizing my emotions, the fear and panic is pretty well locked up in here.” He taps his forehead. “The other tellers say it’s almost creepy how relaxed I seem in stressful situations.”

“He once stopped a bank robbery by just talking calmly at the thief until they got so unnerved they left,” Yuzuriha says.

“You know this does kind of explain why Yuzuriha didn’t even flinch when she told off those bullies back in fifth grade,” Taiju remarks.

When they tell him about the car situation, the only thing Mr. Ogawa says about it is that he’s genuinely surprised it took this long for Senku to try driving without a license.

With that handy little insight into the trio’s parents’ view of how chaotic they are, Mr. Ogawa drives them to Yuzuriha’s house and they add Ogawa Hikari to the party.

While Yuzuriha definitely got her nerves of steel from her dad, Senku’s pretty sure she got her intense work ethic from her mom. The first thing Mrs. Ogawa does when waking up other than greeting her husband and daughter is to immediately take inventory of all their supplies and suggest they raid the nearest camping equipment store without a hint of hesitation.

“We should go wake up the Okis too,” she says before anyone can say they were already planning on checking on Taiju’s house. “Mrs. Oki has that old hunting rifle that might be of use.”

When they all just stare at her, she frowns. “Well we can’t rely entirely on canned meat, you know, and without steady protein we’ll start to get weaker. Plus I’m concerned about the wild predators we’ll encounter in the north. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have to worry about bears who aren’t used to seeing humans around anymore.”

It’s a good point, and after loading up all of Yuzuriha’s crafting things they quickly head over to Taiju’s place to pick up his grandparents. 

Oki Kazuhiro immediately bursts into happy tears and embraces all three teenagers at once, saying he was so scared when everything went dark even if he knew Senku and Yuzuriha would take care of “our little Taiju.”

His wife Chie smacks him lightly on the shoulder and tells him off for being such a worrywart before sternly telling the teens that just because they’re saving the world doesn’t mean they’ll be off the hook for any past or future “incidents,” especially since they’ve done more breaking and entering in the last few days than they’ve ever had before.

They find a larger vehicle to carry the party of now seven people to the nearest camping store, and Senku helps Mrs. Oki repair her hunting rifle as she complains about how her license is definitely expired by now.

Mr. Oki manages to somehow Tetris all of their supplies into the new van they borrowed and can remember exactly where he put everything, which is great because Senku’s plan was more or less “throw it all in and deal with it later.” 

Then after ensuring that they have extra batteries on hand, they head north. 

It only takes a few hours to get there, but somehow Senku finds himself nodding off, both him and Yuzuriha resting their heads on Taiju’s shoulders. Before he fully falls asleep though, he hears snippets of whispered conversation from the adults.

“Looks like they’re getting sleepy, huh?”

“I can only imagine. Why do they feel the need to put so much pressure on themselves, you think? They’re just kids.”

“Just kids, you say. About the three hellions that nearly blew up their school gymnasium?”

“Now Oki-san, they did promise never to do that again.”

“She has a point though. They may be young, but they’re not really…ordinary, are they? Even Yuzuriha says she feels like the other girls think she’s weird.” 

“So it might be that they don’t really trust anyone else but each other when it comes to special situations. Why else would Senku-kun wake them up before any adults?”

“Well I’m glad he at least trusts us. I think that boy tries to act too grown up sometimes. And with his father gone—“

“Shhh, let’s not talk about that right now. We have to focus on the plan, alright? No use worrying about something we have no knowledge of.”

“But it’s a real concern. There’s no way Byakuya-san is—“

“We don’t know that. Maybe the astronauts were able to come down to Earth on their own, you know? Some sort of escape pod scenario or whatever.”

“But if he—“

“We can’t. We can’t just talk about him like that. Not in front of the kids. Not in front of Senku. That hope…we all need that right now. You know?”

“…I see. But you didn’t let me finish.”

“Alright?”

“I was saying, that if the worst case scenario happens…then we all have to share the responsibility of taking care of Senku-kun from now on. I’m sure he’ll act like he’s fine on his own, and we can let him think that, but he’s been an Oki as much as he is an Ishigami since Taiju chose him all those years ago, and that’s never going to change.”

“…Well of course. I thought it was a given that we’d do that.”

“I know Yuzuriha would give us hell otherwise.”

“Hmph. Good.”

“Awww Chie, you’re such a sweetie inside aren’t you?”

“Shut up. The kids are sleeping.”

Senku feels someone placing a quilt over him, Taiju, and Yuzuriha, and the softness of the fabric and the rhythm of the van rumbling along finally pulls him into sleep. 

[manda-kat]

(OC AITA DISCLAIMER! This is one of the blorbos I made in my brain!)

AITA for getting my brother arrested?

My brother (19M) and I (??M) have been roommates since we moved out of our parent's house. (Aside from a brief period where I was at school) I'd like to say we're really close and we basically do everything together.

I'm more of an introvert and it takes a lot for someone to get close to me. I'm mostly fine hanging out just me and him. He on the other hand is really social and it turns out while I was at school he made a huge group of friends.

I was super happy for him at first until he started hanging out with them constantly. After I came back home I expected to have some one-on-one time, but it was like every night he wanted to go out with his friends. He'd always invite me, but it's hard for me to join a pre-established group like that and I don't really like any of them.

He didn't listen to any of my complaints so I tried to let it go. He's an adult, he can have friends. Then I met his girlfriend. She came across as pretty cool at first, but as they kept dating it became clear that she was a political extremist who wanted to overthrow the government.

I'm not a big fan of the government, but I know it's pretty stupid to throw those kinds of ideas around if you can't back them up. My brother bought her ideas easily and soon their entire friend group had gone from wild parties to conspiratorital meetings at midnight, discussing their plans to undermine the government.

I was actually welcomed into their 'rebel' group, probably just because there was no way he would be able to hide it from me. This meant I got all the details of their meetings and I knew they weren't just sharing opinions. They were making plans.

My brother shared their finished plan with me and it was not only illegal, but also incredibly dangerous. It would obviously lead to everyone dying.

To keep my brother safe, I reported the group to the police. They were all arrested. (aside from a few who got away and the one guy I strangled) My brother's girlfriend is furious and blames me for her situation. I just wanted to keep them safe, but the old saying 'snitches get stitches' comes to mind. Would it have been better to let them try their stupid plan?