Steve Rogers Finally Gets Drunk.

Baby blurb of reader and Eddie where reader sleeps with her teddy when she has anxiety and it’s all soft and fluffy lol. Yes I have just turned 20 and still sleep with my teddy and I am not ashamed 😤💖

i love him 😭 so much 😭

A hand on your forehead. 

You blink awake. It takes you a second to realise what you're seeing. Eddie, your boyfriend, handsome and frowning across from you.

"Are you okay?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep.

"Me?" he asks. He turns his hand. His knuckles skip over your cheek, down to under your chin where he rubs a small line, back and forth. "You're sleeping with Mr. Bear?" 

"Oh…" That's the soft weight on your chest. 

Eddie kneels beside your bed. Where his right hand is soothing at your chin, the left strokes over Mr. Bear's worn tummy. 

You feel instantly embarrassed, the kind of shame that makes your face white hot. 

"Are you doing okay, sweet thing?" he asks. The sweet thing isn't strictly sincere. He says it with a smile, like he's hoping you'll laugh. 

You try your best. "I'm okay." 

"Yeah?" 

His touch is so soft. Feather-light. The kiss of a butterfly's wing to your chin. His eyes are distracted by somewhere on your cheek and his mouth is still worried. Pulled down at the corners. 

"Move over?" he asks eventually. 

You nod obligingly and shuffle aside. Eddie shakes out of his jacket and climbs into bed next to you, your shoulders kissing, your eyes on the ceiling. 

"You can tell me anything," he says. His voice is gruff like he's a little abashed to say it, but sincere. 

You sigh. "I know." 

Eddie hums before taking Mr. Bear into careful hands, waving one of Mr. Bear's small arms at you. "Do you tell him what's wrong?" he asks, holding your bear in front of his mouth. 

"Sometimes." 

Eddie brings Mr. Bear's mouth to his ear. "Oh," he says thoughtfully. "Gotcha." 

You roll your eyes as Eddie sets the stuffie back over your chest, positioning him to be comfortable. 

"What did he tell you?" you ask, curious.

Eddie glares at you theatrically. "Is nothing sacred?" 

"He's my bear." 

"And you won't award him any privacy? You cruel woman." 

You huff, equally theatrical, and let your head loll back to the ceiling. Eddie cups your neck, his hand hot to your skin. He tilts your head towards him again very slowly. 

You break character when he presses his nose to yours, laughing under your breath as he says, "Let me be your confidante, babe. I'm as good a listener as that dude and twice as cuddly." 

"Twice," you laugh. 

"I have better hair." 

You reach out to stroke his dark curls. He really does.

This Town | Oslo

He Needs the Calories

It's just silly Steve Rogers fluff based on my favorite joke this holiday...

Summary: Steve has his own tradition the night before the Fourth.

Entirely, utterly stupid, and I don't care because it made me smile. Enjoy! WC ~1k

"What the hell is all this?" you screech at Steve, finding an eleventh gallon bag of cookies tucked in a basket at the bottom of the pantry. "Why do you have a metric ton of...what? Sugar cookies? Cutouts, snickerdoodles, thumbprints? My god, what are you doing? Running your own bake sale?"

Steve's eyes shift guiltily from where you stand to the fridge and back.

You drop the bag of peanut butter chocolate chip treats and step backward to open the french doors.

"What's in here, Steve?"

"Nothing," he rushes.

"What's in the fridge, Steve?!"

He jumps to push the door shut before you can peak in. "It's not a big deal, ok? You don't wanna see."

This is starting to feel like the end of the movie Seven. What's in the cold box?! What's in the box, man?

Steve might be clearly ashamed and hoping you give up, but he uses no force to stop you. His bright blue eyes simply plead for your understanding.

Crammed into the tallest shelf are five--count 'em, five giant pitchers of...milk.

It's not store containers though; they're the type you make your own drinks in.

"Wha...."

You look at Steve, confused.

"It's a joke," he starts to explain.

"Are you taking a milk bath for your supple skin?" you snip.

"No. In the compound," Steve tsks back. "You know, like Santa. Ha-ha, leave out milk and cookies for the patron saint of Independence Day, ha-ha...or whatever."

He looks at his feet.

"So they give you the milk and cookies on the Third."

"I--uh--I wait until the compound closes and people go home, and then I collect the stuff from all the little break rooms and waiting areas. Employees' children come in to specifically to set up the plates."

He rolls his hands around as if that settles things.

"It's cute."

"So you bag up hundreds of cookies from fifty rooms in the building, pour glass after glass of milk into pitchers, and then hoard them like the freaking Cookie Monster in the apartment...You know you don't have to consume all of this, right?"

Steve balks at the mere suggestion. He's appalled.

How. Dare.

"What? I'm not gonna throw them away. That's such a waste! The kids would be so disappointed."

"Then you share them, Steve. You put them somewhere the adults can help you finish them off. You do not eat twenty-five pounds of butter and sugar and flour in one single day."

He shrugs, defiant in his plucking of one full gallon bag back from the pantry and reaching past you for a pitcher.

"I'll run a little extra," he mutters with a pouting lip. "I need the calories."

That's the last, laughable thing the big guy says before shutting himself in a room, snacks in hand.

Well, you think, it's oddly fitting that the patron saint of America is a glutton.

A/N: Look. I warned you it was stupid. I also warned you that I did not care BWAHAHAHA

Happy Birthday, Steebie 😘

🍪🥛🍪

Derek Hale x Female Reader

Title- Stiles' Little Sister

Description- Derek comforts reader after she had a hard day at school. Just fluff, that's all this is

Word count- 1630

Y/N is pulled from sleep at the feeling of a gentle hand rubbing up and down her back, nails lightly scratching a path over her shirt. A smile graces her face when she looks up to see her boyfriend of eight months crouching down next to her bed. "Hi, Derbear." She whispers through a sleepy smile.

"Hi, babygirl. You looked so cute sleeping, I didn't want to wake you." Derek says with a blinding smile. Y/N is quick to bury her face back into her pillow, blushing at Derek's words. Derek huffs out a laugh as he climbs into the bed with the younger girl. "How was school?" He asks, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her head. Y/N merely shrugs her shoulder, resting her head on the werewolf's chest. "Did something happen?" He worries. 

Y/N sighs, letting the feel of Derek running his nails down her shirt-covered back calm her before she says anything. "Nothing happened, per se," She mutters, drawing patterned on Derek's chest. "It's just the teachers, and students, and stuff." She finally says after a moment of silence.

"Did somebody say something to you?" Derek questions, still running his hand up and down the girl's back in an attempt to keep her grounded and in the moment.

The room is quiet for a few minutes as Y/N gathers her thoughts, deciding how she wants to talk the problem out with her boyfriend. "It's just, that ever since our relationship became public, everyone treats me differently. Like, kids talk about me behind their backs. Granted, they don't know I can hear what they're saying, werewolf hearing and everything but that doesn't matter! The teachers treat me differently too. They don't call on me when I know the answer, and they know, I know it! And they call on me when I don't know the answer and embarrass me in front of the whole class. Hearing what everyone is saying about us behind our backs is what hurts the most." Y/N vents, squeezing her hands into fists when her claws slowly start to come out. Taking a deep breath, she continues. "I hear them say I'm only with you for the money or the sex. I'm not only with you for either but don't get me wrong, the sex is great, but it's not the only reason I'm with you! Or the money! I don't care about the money! I promise Der." Y/N says, tears quickly brimming her eyes.

"Hey, hey, calm down babygirl. I know you're not with me for either, though I would have to agree, the sex is pretty good," Derek says with a cheeky smile, making Y/N huff out a laugh. "What else are they saying?" He questions quietly.

"They say that you're blackmailing or threatening me to be with you, calling you a pervert for being with someone so much younger than you. Eight years isn't that much! Mom and Dad were nine years apart! Dad wouldn't have let us be together if he saw something wrong with it" Y/N exclaims.

Sure, the Sheriff didn't see any problems with the couple being together, but Stiles sure saw a problem.

Y/N and Derek were too wrapped up in each other to hear the sound of the loft door being opened and closed, or the sound of footsteps coming toward them until it was too late. Stiles' scream of horror when he looked at the couple is what brought them out of the intense makeout session. Y/N hurriedly throws herself off of Derek's lap, covering herself with the comforter, and looking around the floor for her jeans and shirt she had thrown off in her haste to climb onto Derek's lap.

"Stiles! Do you not know how to knock?" Derek growls, pulling his jeans on over his boxers.

"I didn't think I had to knock! I would have if I'd known you were sucking my baby sister's face off! Dude, you're like, ten years older than her! Dad is gonna flip when he finds out, Y/N!" Stiles yells.

"He's only eight years older, and Dad already knows! I wouldn't be dating Derek if Dad didn't know. Now will you please leave so I can get dressed? I would rather my boyfriend be the only person to see me in my underwear!" Y/N yells at her older brother, sending the other boy scurrying out of the room and down the stairs. Y/N sighs, flopping down onto the bed, and covering her face with her hands.

"At least we still had our underwear on. It could have been so much worse, babydoll," Derek says as he hovers over her. He pries her hands from her face, giving her a gentle smile when she glares at him. "Look on the bright side, now when I sneak in your window at night, we don't have to be as quiet, since he knows. Granted, I'm not gonna make you scream, that's only for me to hear." Derek says, nipping at the younger girl's neck, making her squeal.

"You better get off my sister and get down here, Derek Hale!" Stiles yells from the living room of the loft. Derek growls softly, his eyes flashing Alpha red, Y/N's flashing yellow in return as she giggles at her boyfriend and Alpha.

"We're coming, keep your pants on, Stilinski!" Derek yells back, getting up from the bed to finish buttoning his jeans and find a shirt. He throws Y/N's discarded clothes at her, flashing his eyes at her one last time as he says, "We're not done here. When he leaves, I'm going to finish what I started." Y/N squeaks, moving to quickly put her clothes on, in a bid to get her brother out of the loft quicker. Derek chuckles, watching his girlfriend rush down the stairs while she's still fixing her shirt.

"Stiles has a reason to have a problem with our relationship, but no one else does! I just don't understand why anyone else cares." Y/N says, sniffling softly, all the steam from her rant quickly leaving her.

"Y/N, can you look at me please?" Derek gently asks, pulling his girlfriend's face to his. "I don't care what anyone else thinks of us. This relationship is between you and me. No one else. No one else has any say in our relationship. I'm dating you, not them. If I wanted their opinion, I would ask them, but I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, they can all go eat Wolfsbane. I only care what you think, because I love you, and only you."  Derek says softly, smiling when Y/N's eyes widen.

"You love me?" She asks. In the eight months they had been dating, those three words hadn't come up yet. Y/N had wanted Derek to say it when he felt like it, not when he thought she would want to hear it, so she let him be the first to say it.

"I do. I love you more than anything in this world, which is why I don't care what anyone else says about us. Only you."

"I love you too, more than anything, Derek. You're the best thing to happen to me in a long time." Y/N says. Her eyes flash gold, Derek's answering in red. The couple sit for several minutes in content silence, until Y/N says, "My mom would have loved you."

Derek's face breaks into a huge smile when he replies. "I know my family would love you too. Almost as much as I love you. But not nearly as much." He says, pulling the girl on top of him. Y/N softly rubs her nose over Derek's neck, scenting him gently. She lets the smell of her Alpha lull her to sleep, Derek following not long after.

~*~

The sound of the dismissal bell rings throughout the parking lot, as students file out of the doors. Derek waits, leaning up against his Camero, watching for Y/N's bouncing bun on the top of her head to come out of the door. When he finally lays eyes on her, she's talking to a girl with purple hair, but is quick to bid her goodbye when she sees Derek waiting for her. She takes off like a shot to him, her backpack bouncing against her back as she rapidly makes her way to him.

Derek braces for impact when she gets close to him, opening his arms for her to run into. The Alpha werewolf encircles her shoulders with his arms when she makes contact with him, her arms wrapping around his middle. "Hi, baby. I missed you today." Derek says into her hair, where he places a kiss. "How was your day?" He asks when she pulls away.

She gives him a radiant smile, puckering her lips in invitation for a kiss, which Derek is quick to grant with a huff of laughter. "It was really good. Since you've started picking me up at the end of the day and you bring me lunch, people have stopped talking about us as much. The teachers are nicer too. I think they're scared of you. It's great!" Y/N chirps happily.

Derek laughs gently at the younger werewolf, sliding his hands down her back to rest of her jeans-clad butt. "I'm glad. Now, let's get home, I've been dying to have you under me all day, and I don't plan on wasting any more time in making that happen. Get in the car, babydoll." Derek all but growls in Y/N's ear, opening to door for her. Y/N makes a sound between a squeal and moan when Derek slaps her butt as she's getting into the Camero, making Derek laugh as he rounds the front of the car to get into the driver's side, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot hastily.

Just Eddie Munson swearing for almost 2 minutes 😌

Eddie in his tux, that wild hair and eyes a-glowing while he slow dances to your first song at your wedding. He sings the lyrics to you in a whisper and never let's his eyes leave yours. He did it. He graduated, found the love of his life and married you. He is on cloud nine as he dips you, bringing you back up for a sweet, slow kiss.

It doesn't matter that it's a small wedding, all that matters if Eddie has you and only you. Forever.

Steve: I'm worried about Bucky, he thinks really low of himself.

Y/N: And that's why God created me.

Sam: A crazy person that's obsessed with him?

Y/N:

Y/N: I think the word is passionate.

🍂 walk through the orange leaves — blurbs with autumn-themed prompts.

sitting by a bonfire w stevie bc i can just tell already how cute and fluff you’ll make it 🫶🏽

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

pairings ; steve harrington x female!reader 

warnings ; female!reader, established relationship, pet names, lumax, steve being a caring and cosy boyfriend, r is tired, cursing, eddie being loud.

word count ; 918

additional notes ; bubba sav, this is dedicated to you <33 you're the best

the radiating warmth of not only the bonfire in front but the length of steve’s chest pressed against your back is enough to send you into a hazy slumber. if it weren’t for his constant moving as he watched everyone.

your head tucked under your boyfriend’s chin, steve’s arms gently encased your frame and had been for the past hour. the small get together at eddie’s ended with only a few of you left. nancy had drove most of the kids home, max staying as she only lived a trailer across and lucas was stuck to her side; steve opting to drive him back later.

eddie was using his hands atop his knees to make some careless noise amongst conversation with robin whilst steve watched fondly as lucas and max bicker, including him every so often with a ‘steve, tell her,’ or ‘stay outta this, steve, don’t listen to this doofus.’

steve couldn’t get involved, too wrapped up in the ambience of your sleepy nature against him. your breath fanned his neck and your hands clutched his jacket tightly, humming every so often when you stirred from threatened sleep.

“fuck you, honest to god, y/n! back me up here!” hands which previously coursed up and down your back with a sickeningly sweet graze freeze when steve glared at eddie munson from his spot. the kids from beside him follow his gaze when steve tries his best to whisper shout, “shut up, holy crap what ever happened to indoor voices with you lot, huh?”

“i know you weren’t the best in school, steve, but it’s basic common sense to know we’re outside right now.”

his glare moves to robin, ready to make another remark when your nose nudges against his jaw with another hum escaping you, stirring to lay your front against his while hands flatten against his chest which is currently alight with love. causing his throat to close and to shut up entirely.

“i’m not asleep, stevie. still here.” your hands move when steve’s chest vibrates with a chuckle, your words saying one thing but your expression saying a hell of the lot more.

your eyes are half-lidded, filled with a sleepiness, your cheeks look oh-so-soft and steve resists the urge to run the back of his finger over so gently like he’d break you. plus the light from the fire doesn’t help how he feels, not when the warm glow makes you look so much sweeter.

“y/n! queen or the beatles?” eddie’s voice interjects and steve leans down to press a long kiss to your head, lips murmuring against yours in the process, “sorry, baby.” you giggle lazily, hugging yourself closer to your boyfriend, knees bending so you essentially look like a koala clung to a tree.

“queen.”

a rapid beat fills your eardrums as eddie slaps his knees to the chorus of ‘we will rock you’ before standing up and leaning towards robin’s face, “told you! nobody beats freddie mercury, man. nobody!”. eddie looks over to you, face hidden in steve’s frame but eddie still speaks, not caring if it’s not really heard, “this is why you’re my favourite, y/n.”

“y/n’s clearly delirious, isn’t thinking straight,” robin starts.

“yeah, she’s like half asleep,” max continues.

you hardly listen to them, the fall air crisp against your back but steve’s quick to keep you warm. the scent of his woody cologne filling your nostrils and working like a charm to make you feel more woozy and tired, entirely safe in his arms.

“y/n deserves extra marshmallows,” eddie announces in retaliation while leaning down to grip the large bag they shared by the fire earlier to throw it in your direction. steve raises his arm to catch the plastic before discarding it to his side while responding, “y/n deserves some well-needed rest.”

you murmur incoherently against steve’s chest and he runs his hand over your head while whispering, “it’s okay, baby. i’ll get you home to bed.” little did steve know you were far more content at the back of eddie’s garden, lame bonfire while pressed against your boyfriend.

“just stay here?” eddie says as if it’s the simplest thing and steve feels you push against his hand, eyes open once again trying to lift yourself up as you start to disagree, “no, no, no. stevie, we can’t.”

everyone watches you ramble tiredly, steve kissing your forehead while his arms wrapped around your lower back comfortingly, “okay, baby—” but you continue as he speaks back, “we can’t stay, gotta drive lucas to basketball practice first thing tomorrow. gotta go home.”

“you’re right,” steve starts, everyone else confused while steve only smiles at you in complete adoration as you both attempt to move from your comfortable position. steve turns to max and lucas, spinning his finger as a signal to ‘wrap things up,’ “c’mon, lucas. let’s get you home, bud.”

everyone makes a move, lucas nervously leaning in to kiss max’s cheek while steve helps swing his jacket over your shoulder before tucking your tired state under his arm. “robin, need a lift?” asks steve, allowing you a few extra peaceful moments to feel the warm fire against your body.

“think i’m staying here.”

“let’s go, bub,” your squeezed while steve kisses your cheek, his affection only making you feel more tired and light-headed, in the best way while you're guided from the warm fire and instead promised to be cuddled to sleep in the comfort of your bed, your boyfriend right by your side like always.

⤸

taglist form . the library . all blurbs

steve harrington; masterlist . blurbs

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: at london comic con, naptime for joe’s son interferes with joe’s panel. luckily, joe has a fix for the situation. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad!joseph quinn x um!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff fluff fluff ab dad joe bc lcc is giving so much kid content it’s driving me wild, joe’s son’s name is anthony 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: listen, @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown and i have this longstanding au going where you and joe have a son and i NEEDED to write it, especially with all the pictures of babies and kids that we’re getting this weekend :)

By now, everyone on Twitter knew that Joe had brought you and his son to London Comic Con. You and Joe had been spotted entering the convention center on Saturday, tiny 4-year old Anthony in tow, and everyone was waiting for some sort of content with the three of you. Joe didn’t share too much about Anthony online, only the spare picture to his new Instagram every so often, updating his eight million followers on Anthony’s antics, but little Anthony was known and beloved. 

So far, the day had gone well. You stood off to the side and entertained Anthony as Joe took pictures with fans, stopping during every break to get the snuggles and kisses in— Anthony required many Daddy snuggles and kisses, and every twenty minutes, two minutes were allotted for Joe to kiss Anthony’s head, inquire about what he was watching (the answer was always Bluey), and promise more time in the future. You hated how hectic the convention was and how quickly-paced it was, but that was the nature of the event. It was fun to watch your husband interact with all of his fans, and some even spotted you and sent waves and coos towards you and Anthony. 

Eventually, time for Joe’s lunch break came, and he held Anthony in his lap as they both ate their sandwiches that you had made (the upside of a con in London meant no hotel rooms, and your boys got to sleep in their own beds), peanut butter dotted on Anthony’s little mouth as he babbled away at Joe. “So big, Dada!” he exclaimed, stretching his hands wide. 

“Yeah, lots of people, aren’t there?” Joe chuckled, smoothing down Anthony’s thin curls. Anthony resembled Joe to a tee, some baby photos that Joe’s mother had showed you a dead ringer for your son, and Anthony’s big brown eyes widened as he nodded. 

“And they’re all here to see you,” you told him, and Joe scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think they’re here to see you.” 

“Me?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my fans love you,” Joe told you. “Everybody today has told me to say hello to you and Anthony. And some people asked about Wes too, actually.” 

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss Joe’s cheek, and your husband blushed under your lips. “I’m so proud of you, Joey,” you told him softly. “You’ve worked so hard for so long, and now… It’s all happening.” 

“And I get to do it with you,” Joe said with a watery smile, and he looked down at Anthony in his lap, still watching Bluey on your phone. “Both of you.” He ruffled up Anthony’s hair and smoothed them down again, an anxious habit that he had picked up recently, and Anthony looked up from your phone and smiled a big, toothy grin at his father. 

“It’s almost naptime,” you said, looking down at your watch, and both of your boys whined and grumbled in protest. Anthony usually didn’t make a fuss over naptime and gladly settled in bed with his blankie and fell asleep for at least an hour, but you knew that the energy and excitement from the con would interrupt his schedule. You had anticipated this, and you pouted as you tugged your son up into your arms. “I know, baby, I know,” you told him. “But you’ll get all sleepy and cranky later if you don’t nap.” 

“B-But Dada!” Anthony said, and he wriggled in your arms, reaching out for Joe. You willingly transferred your son into his father’s arms, and Joe kissed Anthony’s wiggly little head as Anthony added, “Wanna stay with ‘ou, Dada.” 

“I want you to stay with me too,” Joe said, his bottom lip pouting out. “But you need to nap, and I have stuff I’ve gotta do.”

“What?” Anthony asked. 

“Well, I have a panel in a few minutes,” Joe told Anthony. “People ask me all sorts of things, and I answer them. It’s usually very fun. But I can’t bring you, bud.” 

“I mean…” you started slowly. “You could. Just hold him in your lap and let him sleep while you answer the questions. If you want, that is. Or I can just take him back home to nap and we can come get you at the end of the day.” 

“I can hold him,” Joe said, rubbing Anthony’s back. “We’re just gonna cuddle while you nap, aren’t we?”

“Cuddle?” Anthony asked, and Joe nodded. “Okay. Blankie?” 

You nodded carefully and slung off your backpack, opening it and searching through all of your stuff, Joe’s phone and wallet and keys and snacks and all of Anthony’s various accessories, and you finally extracted his fluffy blue blankie. It certainly had been fluffy at one point but, after four years, the fluff had been matted down and it was a little off-color, no matter how many times you washed it. But it was Anthony’s favorite blankie, the only one he slept with, and Anthony cuddled it up to his chest instantly as soon as he got it in his hands. “Thank you, Mummy,” Anthony mumbled, nestling his head under Joe’s chin, and your heart skipped. 

“Of course, baby,” you told him. “Are my boys ready for the panel?” 

“Anthony’s first panel,” Joe chuckled. “We’re ready.” 

Joe carried Anthony (and his blankie) to the stage, smiling and waving at fans as he passed them, and he seemed calm and cool. It was only once you got backstage, in the wings of the stage, that he started to seem nervous. “Is this a bad idea?” Joe asked. Anthony had his head rested on Joe’s shoulder, his brown eyes flagging with after-lunch sleepiness, and he yawned and cuddled up closer into Joe’s chest. “I-I mean, is it unprofessional?” 

“He’s your son, darling,” you told him, adjusting Joe’s jacket to lay right and settling his curls right. “Everyone will understand. And anyway, it’s super cute, and nobody will care if it's unprofessional if it’s cute.” 

Joe nodded, and he rubbed Anthony’s back as his name was announced by the moderator, and you watched Joe walk out onstage, holding his microphone in one hand as he held Anthony in his arms. Instantly, the auditorium was met with coos and aws and cheers, and Joe waved at everyone before he sat down on the small sofa that was provided for him. He mumbled something to Anthony and kissed his head, and your son turned to look at everyone. He waved for a moment, just long enough for everyone to cheer back at him, and he turned back and buried himself in Joe’s chest. 

The crowd died down, and Joe brought the microphone to his mouth. “It’s naptime,” he said, his voice echoing around the room, and he added, “We’ve got our blankie, I think Ant’s gonna suck his thumb, and he’ll be asleep in no time. But I’m excited, let’s begin.” 

Everything Anthony did was met with applause and aws, every moment and wiggle and cuddle into Joe’s warm chest. Joe answered every question with poise and humility, laughing when someone said to say hi to Wes, and Anthony mumbled something that was half-caught by the mic. “Unca Wes?” he mumbled, and Joe frowned, shaking his head. 

“No, no, Uncle Wes isn’t here right now,” he said softly. “But we can see him when we’re done here... It cracks me up that you guys know who Wes is.” 

True to his word, Anthony popped his thumb in his mouth and was asleep within twenty minutes, and Joe noticed it. “Oh, bless him,” he said. “And we’re asleep here. If we’re very quiet… maybe he’ll stay asleep…” Joe paused for a second and kissed Anthony’s head, and the boy didn’t stir, and Joe said, “Yeah, and he’s knocked out. He can sleep through anything at this point. He gets that from me.” Joe laughed a little, making sure that Anthony stayed asleep, and he said, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

That happened often. Joe would be too distracted watching Anthony sleep and have to have the question asked again, and he flushed and mumbled, “I’m sorry, you guys, he’s just… Parents will understand, he’s only this little for so long. Sorry, I’m sorry, what was the question again?” 

Finally, the time for the end of the panel came, and the last question took Joe a second to respond: “What are you most proud of in your life?” 

“Well,” he started. “I’m proud of myself for a lot, if I can say that without coming off as a douchebag. But my own accomplishments pale in comparison to my wife, she… She’s amazing. I’m constantly in awe of her and all that she’s done for me, all of the late nights she spends with our son while I work, supporting me and loving me and… But this little guy. He blows my mind every day. Even as he’s sitting here, napping, he’s so much more than I ever could have imagined my son to be. I never anticipated being a father, and now I am, and even though it’s been four years, I’m still not used to him and I don’t think I ever will be. He is so smart and beautiful and… Yeah. I’m proud of Anthony. He’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

You smiled and, as soon as Joe came offstage, you pulled him into a kiss. You felt Joe’s hands twitch underneath Anthony, obviously wanting to embrace you as he kissed you, and you pulled Anthony into your arms to allow Joe to hold you tenderly as he kissed your lips. He sighed into the kiss and touched his forehead to yours, and he mumbled, “I love you so much. Thank you for sticking around.” 

“Of course,” you told him. “I love you too, darling.” 

“I wonder if my mum can take Ant tonight,” Joe mumbled, pulling you back into another kiss. “I need some time with you.” 

“You have more con tomorrow,” you said. “Is tonight good for that?” 

“Any night is a good night for that,” Joe chuckled, and you smiled at his naughty cheek. “I think it’s time Ant has a little sister.” 

“You think so?” you asked. “Whatever you say, Mr. Quinn.” 

“And I do say, Mrs. Quinn,” Joe said. “Let me call Mum and see if she can take the little monster. He was so good for me, he just slept the whole time.” 

“He’s not a monster,” you said with a smile, bouncing Anthony as he yawned and started to wake up. His thumb was popped in his mouth and you carefully pulled it out, and Anthony whined and sucked the corner of his blankie into his mouth. “He’s the most special little boy in the world.”

“He sure is,” Joe said, and his big eyes were full of love as he looked at the two of you, his wife and son. “The best boy ever.” 

It's been what? 2 weeks since I talked about Joe being stalked here in Italy and now i find myself to post again about it

YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THE MAN ALONE

Was it worth pushing him to end his vacation sooner because your stupid need to take a picture with him?

I won't be surprised if he decide to cancel his appearance in Toronto or to not interact with his fans anymore