The Trial Run: Chapter Eight

summary - Bradley Bradshaw has one goal as he finishes his junior year of college - get Makayla Cunningham to be his girlfriend. Because Makayla Cunningham is exactly the kind of girl a guy like Bradley Bradshaw deserves. There's just one problem, Makayla is adamant that Bradley is a bad boyfriend. If he wants to win her over, Bradley has to prove he can keep a girlfriend of Makayla's choosing for the entire summer. It's just his luck that girl is his little sister's best friend.

warnings - college au, frat boy Bradley (Bradley’s frat is completely fictional and in no way meant to reference any existing frats), language, descriptions of a panic attack, brief mention of throwing up, talks of parental death, Bradley is 22 and reader is 19, no use of y/n, Bradley is 6'6" because I said so

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word counts - 3.3k

the trial run masterlist

i LOVEEEE this series

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary a lot of things can happen before dinner. or, a snapshot into your life with steve, three daughters and a big secret. [3.1k]

warnings kid!fic, steve!centric / steve’s pov, dad!steve, mom!reader, afab!reader (reader is the birth mom of their three kids), fluff, a ridiculous amount of kisses and hugs, steve trying to figure out why you’re so tired and tense, pregnancy reveal, pregnant!reader, happy tears, a joke about lice (sorry), this was requested kind of here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

"Can we have popsicles?" Avery asks. 

Steve looks down from where he's making dinner to find his three daughters. Avery, the oldest, stands at the front of their triangle with her puppy dog eyes already wide and shimmering. She's taller every time he looks at her lately. Constantly growing.

He wipes his hands on a hand towel. "Ave, dinner will be ready soon." 

"Please?" asks Beth, the second oldest. 

Beth, or more affectionately Bethie, stands at Ave's left. She's young enough to miss some words when speaking but old enough to hold very interesting conversation. She's also the Daddy's girl of the lot, and he almost cracks when she brings her two hands together pleadingly. 

Steve doesn't even want to look at Dove because he knows she'll melt his reluctance instantly. Being the baby, she has a lot of power. She calls the majority of the shots these days. She's a little bit wobbly on her feet as she approaches, freshly turned two years old and the cutest thing Steve has ever seen. 

"What do you think, Dove? You want a popsicle?" he asks, always encouraging her to speak. It's nearly unnecessary considering how often her sisters speak to her. 

"Yes," Dove says quickly, pushing past her sisters to cling to his leg. She's usually a total mommy's girl. Her affection all but seals the deal.

He scoops her up with a smile. "Well…" 

"Mom says it's okay," Avery adds. 

"Yeah?" He grins at them. "If your mom says it's okay then you can definitely have popsicles." 

Happy MAMMA MIA! day to those who celebrate

Don’t Let Go

Rating: PG-13

Steve Harrington, dressed in a striped polo and the garish green Family Video vest, didn’t so much as bat an eye as you approached the counter.

There was no greeting, no forced customer service voice or Harrington charm - or lack thereof, as of late. Instead, he delivered a deadpan, “Someone else rented The Evil Dead,” as he continued stacking return tapes. “You really should just buy it at this point.”

The scent of his cologne, something woody that had always made your head a little dizzy - always blurred the sharp edges of your biting jabs and warmed the ice in your chest -  enveloped you as you leaned against the counter. The surface was sticky beneath your elbows, as it always seemed to be, but you ignored it and grinned at him, cloyingly sweet.

Keep reading

this is so cute and yes steve harrington loves hall and oates.

[steve rogers x fem!reader]

summary: you’re set to marry a man you’re not sure you even like, but the person going to all the appointments with you is your life-long best friend.

words: 3.5k

a/n: I got inspired for this watching Toscana on Netflix! the whole idea of helping someone with their wedding while you pine for them… one of my fav tropes. this is my first time writing for steve 👀. enjoy!!

—

He’s attended every appointment with you–choosing flowers, cake tastings, all four caterers (since your mother wasn’t convinced that your idea of a food truck would properly serve a hundred guests, it was thanks to Steve’s meticulous notes that she finally came around… hundreds of dollars saved, too)--and never once complained. 

Your friendship started with playing hide-and-go-seek around your neighborhood the first day your family moved in next door. Steve has been game for whatever you asked since. Friends in a way which makes ‘best’ feel insufficient, and far more fierce about vouching for you than your own brothers ever were. Steve’s a part of you.

The alterations place tried to chase him away for your dress fitting, but you needed his opinion! ‘It’s bad luck’–who cares? Your girlfriends had gushed over your dress when you first tried it, to a degree that you couldn’t remember if it suited you until you were standing there in the damn thing six months later, staring at yourself in the mirror. Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. He just leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, and smiled. 

His gentle demeanor has grounded you the entire wedding planning process, so when your mother signs you up for a ballroom dance class… he’s affable. He’s unbothered. Of course he’ll go, of course he’ll wait, of course he’ll be your partner when the attendees are unevenly matched, of course he’s good at it, too.

But he isn’t your fiancé, and that’s why you’re fucked. 

oh my god i loved this so much

slipping through my fingers (frank castle)

summary: frank castle has a lot of pride - maybe too much to admit just how in love with you he is

(fem! reader - i am so sorry for using specific pronouns in this, it's just the way i ended up writing it but pls know all my other fics are g.n if u would like to check them out!)

warnings: so much language, mentions of injury, frank being frank, blood, usual canon typical violence

- jazz xx

Matt Murdock liked to tell his friends that you'd met at work.

Work being that you were both vigilantes who tended to accidentally rip the shit out of Hell's Kitchen.

Things then hadn't panned out the way you'd expected. And even what you'd thought was impossible had happened, it only continued. Life kept getting weirder and weirder, barely staying the same for weeks at a time.

This time two years ago, you see, Matt Murdock had been your everything. He was a complicated man; a contradictory one too. There wasn't anything specific in the Bible about putting on a devil suit and going out at night to beat the shit out of criminals, but he didn't like to think about that. Vigilantes probably hadn't existed in Biblical times, right? So there wasn't anything technically wrong them. That's what you had joked to him the first time you'd met on a roof-top exactly twenty six months ago. It had only taken a few more sarcastic jabs at his job, faith, and personality in general before he'd fallen head over heels for you.

With You, I'm Home

~10.2k words

Steve Rogers x Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: You never expected a snowstorm to leave you stranded in an IKEA overnight. You never expected one night to change the trajectory of your life so completely. You never expected him.

Warnings: Fluff, just the tiniest bit of Angst (mentions of Steve's mom passing), Steve speaking French, because that absolutely needs to be a warning. Did I mention Fluffffff??

a/n: I finally got my act together and finished this, lolll. I will admit, I've never actually been to an IKEA, but I watched two 30-minute video tours on YouTube as research...and I still took a few liberties, but only for the sake of the narrative! I hope you guys like this, ahhh! 💖💖(inspired by the news story about the people in Denmark).

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

The voice knocked you out of your stupor, tearing your gaze away from the white haze that had consumed the parking lot outside, turning around to face whoever had spoken.

You were not expecting to turn around and find a literal angel behind you. He was obviously lost down here with you mere mortals, his wings undoubtedly tucked neatly into the black pea coat he had on, the blue and yellow tote bag hanging from his hand filled with whatever earthly trifles he had picked up on his downward trip. Apparently, he had picked up some colorful language, too.