#30 day shuffle challenge

[hartminnies-bibliophileblog]

Day 11 of the 30 day Blog Challenge:

Shooting stars - Bag Raiders

Hypocrates - Marina

There for you - Martin Garrix

Baby I'm yours - Breakbot, Irfane

Safe and Sound - Capital Cities

Feel it Still - Portugal the Man (This reminds me of Gojo Satoru for some reason)

Walking on a dream - Empire of the sun

Electric Feel - MGMT

Midnight City - M83

One More Time - Daft Punk (Legendary! I miss them)

Was there a song, anyone did not know of? Did you try listening to it? Do tell me in the comment section. :D

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Three

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Shit really just went down in this chapter. IM SORRY

Masterlist: Here

The months that followed were a blur of late nights, baby cries, and countless moments of learning how to be something neither of you had ever planned to be—parents. The house was constantly filled with the soft murmur of Willa’s coos, the sound of bottles being washed, and the endless shuffle of trying to make everything fit together.

It wasn’t easy. There were days when you thought you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and nights when you questioned if you were doing anything right at all. But there were moments, too—small victories, fleeting glimpses of joy—that kept you both going.

Moving in with Rafe had been the right decision, you told yourself. The practical side of it made sense, especially as the weeks went on. Rafe was still Rafe: intense, unpredictable, and sometimes impossible to read. But he was trying, and that was something.

Willa had come to see both of you as a constant in her life. She was thriving—growing fast, her chubby cheeks rounding out and her eyes lighting up when either of you walked into the room. You’d become an expert in diaper changes and feeding schedules, and though you hated to admit it, Rafe was actually pretty good with her. He had his moments where he was awkward, unsure, but when it came down to it, he was there. He would hold her when she cried, rock her when she wouldn’t sleep, and talk to her in that soft, almost tender voice you rarely heard from him anywhere else.

You had both fallen into a routine, the rhythm of everyday life settling in like a steady heartbeat. Willa would wake up around 6:30 AM, and by the time Rafe would stumble downstairs with a groggy groan, you’d already had coffee brewing and Willa settled on her blanket. The mornings were quiet—comfortable silence, filled with routine, until Willa started to fuss and everything shifted into motion.

You’d learned how to work together without much communication, both of you picking up on cues. One of you would get the bottle ready while the other soothed Willa, and when she finished, it was time for a nap.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you’d grown used to Rafe’s presence—his heavy footsteps down the hallway, the sound of his voice trying (and sometimes failing) to sing Willa back to sleep at 3 AM.

But there were challenges too. It wasn’t all sweet moments and baby giggles. There were the days where everything felt like it was too much, when you felt overwhelmed by the endless demands of raising a baby, of balancing the practicalities of your life with the unexpected responsibilities of parenting.

There were the mornings when you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all, when you were late for your shifts at the café, and you’d have to rush around to get everything in place. Rafe would always be there, trying to help, but still learning the ropes himself.

The first time you caught him on the phone with his aunt, asking how to properly wash a baby bottle, you had to stifle a laugh. It was the first time you realized that Rafe Cameron—wild, unpredictable Rafe—was just as clueless as you about this whole parenting thing. He might have grown up in a house full of servants, of wealth and privilege, but when it came to taking care of a tiny human, he was as green as they come.

But you didn’t hold it against him. You couldn’t.

The kitchen was where a lot of your moments happened—early mornings when you’d both stand side by side, quietly making coffee, or late nights when you’d settle Willa back into bed, whispering soft words of reassurance to each other. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was yours.

One night, as you both took a rare moment to sit on the couch after putting Willa to bed, you glanced at Rafe from the corner of your eye, noticing how he rubbed the back of his neck, a tired but satisfied look on his face. You couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips.

"She’s growing so fast," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I swear she was just a tiny little thing a few weeks ago."

Rafe hummed in agreement, glancing over at you with a small, almost wistful smile. "Yeah. And it feels like every time we get used to something, she changes again."

You nodded, leaning back against the couch. "It’s like we’re constantly playing catch-up."

"Yeah," he said, the word carrying more weight than usual. He ran a hand through his hair. "You ever think about what this is all gonna look like when she gets older? I mean, God, we’re just making it up as we go."

You chuckled, the sound light and almost freeing in the quiet room. "I think that’s kind of the point, right?" You paused, looking over at him, your expression softening. "I never thought I’d be here. With you. Raising a baby. But it doesn’t feel... impossible anymore."

Rafe glanced at you, a small flash of something unguarded in his eyes. "Yeah. Me neither." He paused, looking down at his hands before looking back up. "I guess we’re doing okay, huh?"

You didn’t have an answer at first. Instead, you just let your gaze soften. Maybe you hadn’t figured everything out yet. Maybe you still had a long way to go. But right now? Right now, in this moment, you were okay.

The door creaked from the hallway, and you both turned toward it, the sound of Willa stirring faintly through the door. Without a word, Rafe got up, stretching his arms before walking to the crib. You watched him for a moment, surprised at how natural it had become for him to step in like that.

You followed him, your steps quiet as you watched him gently pick Willa up, rocking her in his arms as he murmured something soft to her. You felt a flutter of something in your chest, a strange mix of relief and warmth.

“Got her?” you whispered, half-expecting him to protest.

He looked at you over his shoulder, his face soft, the exhaustion in his eyes mixing with something else—something more like contentment. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I got it.”

And in that moment, as you watched him rock Willa back to sleep with ease, you realized something: this—whatever this was—had become a part of you. Not the life you’d planned, but a life that felt strangely right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was a few days later, and a crisp morning greeted them when the crying started again. Willa had been particularly fussy the past few days—her sleep patterns erratic, her cries escalating to heart-wrenching wails that neither you nor Rafe could seem to soothe. You'd tried everything: feeding her, changing her, singing to her, rocking her to sleep—but nothing worked.

Rafe was pacing around the living room, his eyes scanning every corner of the room as if the solution to Willa’s crying was hidden under a piece of furniture or buried in a drawer. You sat on the couch, rubbing your eyes, already feeling the exhaustion of another sleepless night pressing in on you. You hadn’t been able to focus at work, and the lack of sleep made everything feel like a blur. But now, there was no ignoring it. The crying was louder, more insistent, and it was like a knife to your heart every time she screamed.

Rafe glanced at you, his frustration mounting. “We’ve tried everything,” he muttered, the words tinged with helplessness. "What else can we do?”

You shook your head, feeling that same helplessness clawing at you. “I don’t know... We’ve been through the list a hundred times.”

You both sat there for a moment, staring at the baby monitor as Willa's cries grew even more frantic. You were about to stand up, about to try the rocking chair again, when Rafe's voice broke through the tension.

“I might know something.”

You looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Rafe shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned against the wall. “Sarah used to do this when she was little. It’s crazy, but it worked every time. She had this blanket... a childhood blanket. I don’t know, it just always calmed her down.”

Your eyes widened as you processed his words. "Wait... Sarah had a blanket? Here?"

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. I think it's still in the attic. I’ll go get it.”

You watched as Rafe turned to leave, the sound of his boots echoing on the stairs. There was a strange, almost surreal feeling in the pit of your stomach as he disappeared from view. Sarah’s blanket. You hadn’t known about it—had no idea it was even still here, tucked away in the attic, a piece of her childhood still lingering in the house after everything that had happened.

A few moments later, Rafe returned, a slightly worn but soft-looking blanket in his hands. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the crib where Willa was still crying, her little face scrunched up in distress.

“Here goes nothing,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than to you.

He gently wrapped the blanket around Willa, smoothing it over her tiny body. It was faded in spots, the fabric soft with age, but it carried a strange comfort to it—a piece of Sarah that had been forgotten until now. You stood quietly, watching the scene unfold, unsure of what to expect.

And then, in what felt like an instant, Willa’s cries started to fade. Her tiny hands grasped at the blanket for a moment, and then she let out a soft sigh. Her body, tense from the crying, relaxed in Rafe’s arms, and her big brown eyes blinked up at him, almost like she was seeing him for the first time.

You could hardly believe it. The moment felt like magic.

Rafe, looking just as surprised as you, stood there for a moment, his hands still holding Willa as she cooed softly, her eyelids fluttering. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered. “It actually worked.”

You couldn’t move. The sight of Willa—now calm and almost content—was like a weight lifted from your chest. You had been so focused on solving this crisis, on trying to manage everything, that you hadn’t considered that something so simple, so deeply tied to the past, might be the key.

As Rafe gently placed Willa back in her crib, you stood still, unable to shake the strange sensation that had crept into your heart. Watching him with the blanket, watching him soothe Willa, a feeling washed over you—an unfamiliar tightness in your chest that was both comforting and unnerving. It was as if, in that moment, a piece of Sarah had crossed into your life in a way that felt too intimate. Too real.

Rafe glanced over at you, his face soft, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t think it would actually work,” he admitted quietly, still gazing at Willa, who was now sleeping soundly, wrapped in the faded childhood blanket.

You swallowed, trying to shake the sudden lump in your throat. “I didn’t know she had it,” you whispered, your voice quiet. “It’s... it’s kind of strange, isn’t it? To think that something so simple could bring her comfort.”

Rafe nodded, walking slowly back toward the living room as he sat down on the couch. He looked at you, his gaze slightly distant but full of that same raw honesty you’d come to expect from him. “Yeah, it’s weird. But it makes sense, right? Sarah had that damn thing with her everywhere. Maybe she passed it on to Willa somehow. Who knows? Maybe it’s something about the smell, or just the familiarity of it. But I guess that’s the thing with kids—they find comfort in things that we can’t even explain.”

You didn’t answer immediately. The room felt thick with something unspoken. There was a soft, melancholic weight in the air, and your chest ached. You hadn’t expected to feel this—this weird pull in your heart. The thought of Sarah, the reminder of her presence in this house, in your life, and now, with Willa... it was all too much to process.

You sat down beside Rafe, your body heavy with the unspoken thoughts crowding your mind. Neither of you said anything for a while. There wasn’t anything to say, really. But the silence between you two didn’t feel uncomfortable this time. It felt... shared.

Finally, after a few moments, you spoke, your voice soft but steady. “It’s... strange to think that Sarah’s still here. In some way. For Willa.” You looked at Rafe, trying to read his face, but his expression was guarded. “It’s like... she’s still looking out for her, even now.”

Rafe didn’t meet your gaze immediately. He just stared at the floor, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I hope so.”

You glanced down at Willa, her tiny form tucked into the blanket, her face peaceful now. The weight in your chest felt a little lighter. “I hope so, too.”

It wasn’t easy. None of this was. But at that moment, with Sarah's blanket wrapped around Willa, you both realized something—it wasn’t just about the past anymore. It was about the present. And the future.

You didn’t have all the answers, but maybe you didn’t need to. Maybe you just needed to trust that you were doing your best, that you were doing this for Willa, for Sarah, for each other. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The day had shifted into something quieter, something more grounded. The house felt a little warmer, a little fuller, with Sarah’s memory lingering in the most unexpected of ways.

And as you sat there next to Rafe, silently watching over Willa, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of peace—the first you’d felt in a while.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, the night had settled into a rare quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds in the otherwise still air. Willa had finally fallen asleep—her tiny body now wrapped snugly in her crib, her peaceful face illuminated by the moonlight that spilled through the window. You and Rafe were sitting in the living room, a bottle of wine between you both, the remnants of the evening slipping by in a slow, comfortable haze.

It wasn’t something either of you had planned, but tonight felt different. The weight of the past few months, the stress of adjusting to this new life together, had somehow slipped away after dinner. There was no rush to get up, no urgent task that needed to be done. The wine flowed freely, and for a brief moment, it felt like you were allowed to just breathe.

You poured the second glass of wine, the conversation light, a mix of joking about how neither of you had ever really handled a bottle opener right and how neither of you knew much about wine, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. The normal world felt far away, and this small moment of calm was something you both desperately needed.

“I swear,” Rafe said with a half-grin, swirling his glass and leaning back into the couch, “I think I might be a natural at this wine thing.”

You laughed, lifting your own glass to your lips. “Oh yeah? That’s what I was thinking too. A whole new world of sophistication has opened up for you.” You clinked your glass against him, the light chimes almost too loud in the silence.

There was a quiet ease to the night. The tension of the past few months, the uncertainty of your situation, seemed far away. You both talked about random things—life before Willa, stupid high school memories, the occasional dig at the ridiculousness of the Kooks’ high-society antics. And somehow, in this soft glow of laughter, you both began to forget the weight of your new reality.

But as the night wore on, something in the air between you shifted.

The conversation had died down, and now the silence felt heavier, different. You caught Rafe’s gaze as he looked at you over the rim of his glass, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the space between you seemed charged. It was almost as if, after everything, this moment was too... easy. Too comfortable.

You shifted on the couch, the wine starting to cloud your mind in the way it did when it wasn’t just about a drink anymore. Your heart beat a little faster, a strange heat blooming in your chest.

Rafe’s eyes never left you, and you could feel the sudden awareness of his presence—his usual confidence now laced with something more raw. You tried to brush it off, to laugh it away, but your throat felt tight.

“I think we might’ve had a little too much,” you said, your voice a little unsteady, more than you’d intended. You weren’t sure if it was the wine or the sudden tension or maybe something else entirely.

He nodded, his gaze now focused entirely on you. “Yeah, probably. But... you know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this. With someone.”

You felt the words sit heavy between you both, something unspoken hanging there, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes—something that mirrored what you had felt earlier, that strange warmth in your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could find the right words, Rafe shifted closer.

It was subtle, a slight movement, but it was enough to make your breath catch in your throat. And then, before you could stop yourself, before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was gentle, and slow, like neither of you wanted to let go. For a moment, it felt like everything had shifted, like time had paused and all that mattered was the contact, the connection, the warmth of his mouth against yours.

But as quickly as it started, it was over. The distance between you two was almost immediate, both of you pulling away with wide eyes and labored breaths.

You both sat there, frozen, the weight of what had just happened sinking in like a heavy stone.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your chest tight as your heart raced, “That... that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s face was flushed, his hands running through his hair nervously. He looked just as stunned as you felt. “Yeah. A big mistake,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with something like disbelief.

The air around you both thickened, heavy with the tension of what had just happened. Neither of you knew how to fix it, how to go back to the way things had been just minutes before, when everything felt... simple. When you both were just two people trying to figure things out.

“I—” You cut yourself off, unable to find the words. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say, what you were supposed to feel. The kiss had been... unexpected, yet somehow, it had felt too natural to ignore.

Rafe was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked on his hands, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “We can’t—this can’t happen again, [Y/N].” His words were final, but there was something underneath them—a hesitation, like he wasn’t entirely sure that was what he wanted to say. “I mean, we’re... we’re doing this for Willa, right? We can’t let this mess things up.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. You’re right.” But as you said the words, you felt a strange tug in your chest—something that didn’t align with the logic of what you knew was right. You didn’t know what to do with that feeling, how to even begin to unpack it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You and Rafe were guardians to Willa. That was it. It had to be that way. This... this wasn’t supposed to complicate things.

But the air between you both remained heavy. Every word that followed felt like an attempt to fill the silence, to erase the awkwardness, but nothing worked.

You sighed, your hands pressing against your eyes. “This is just so messed up. We’ve already got enough going on, and now...” you trailed off, unsure of what to even say next. You felt disoriented, your emotions tangled.

Rafe glanced over at you, his expression shifting from shock to something softer. “I don’t know what to say either. But... we need to focus on Willa. We’re doing this for her. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded again, trying to pull yourself together, but the air between you two was thick, and no amount of words could erase the kiss, the connection that had flickered between you both.

And in the quiet that followed, you realized something: things were already complicated. Whether you admitted it or not, the line between what was necessary and what felt right was already blurred. And neither of you knew how to unblur it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The days dragged on, each one more awkward than the last. After the kiss, Rafe had retreated into himself, throwing up walls so high you could barely see over them. He was colder now—shorter with his words, sharper with his tone. The rare moments of understanding and teamwork you’d managed to build in the past months seemed to vanish overnight.

It was suffocating.

You found yourself juggling too much at once: your shifts at the café, the endless demands of parenting, and now, the tension that lingered between you and Rafe like a storm cloud. You couldn’t escape it. Every glance, every clipped response from him was a reminder of the kiss—a reminder of how things had gone wrong and how neither of you knew how to fix it.

Willa was your only reprieve. Despite the chaos, she was growing brighter by the day. Her giggles were your anchor, her tiny hands reaching for yours a reminder of why you were enduring this storm. But even she wasn’t enough to distract you from the weight of everything else.

“Rafe, can you grab her bottle from the kitchen?” you called one afternoon, cradling Willa in your arms as she fussed.

He didn’t look up from his phone. “You’ve got two legs, don’t you?” he muttered, the words slicing through the air.

You froze, biting back the sting of his tone. “I’m holding her, Rafe,” you said as evenly as you could manage.

With an exaggerated sigh, he got up and stomped into the kitchen. The bottle landed on the coffee table a moment later, the sound of it hitting the wood sharper than it needed to be.

“Thanks,” you said, though your gratitude felt hollow. He didn’t respond, disappearing into his office without another word.

This was how it was now—barbed comments, cold silences, and the ever-present feeling that you were walking on eggshells.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

One evening, after another particularly tense exchange, you sat on the edge of your bed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The exhaustion was bone-deep. You felt like you were failing on all fronts—your job, your relationship with Rafe (if you could even call it that), and even Willa.

You couldn’t help but wonder how much longer this could go on. How long you could juggle everything without dropping one of the pieces.

But before you could dwell on it too long, there was a knock at the door.

Rafe stood there, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to apologize, maybe he was going to acknowledge how hard this had been for both of you.

Instead, he said, “We need to talk.”

You braced yourself. “About?”

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—nervousness, maybe, or anger. “Ward.”

Your stomach dropped. “What about him?”

Rafe stepped into the room, his posture tense. “He’s... he’s trying to get custody of Willa.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“He’s claiming we’re unfit,” Rafe said, his jaw tightening. “Says we don’t have the resources, that we’re too young. He’s filing a petition.”

Your heart raced as you tried to process the information. Ward Cameron, the man who had emotionally scarred his children, who had driven a wedge into their family with his manipulations, was trying to take Willa away?

“He can’t—he can’t do this,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “He’s not fit to take care of her! What about everything he did to you? To Sarah?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, a mixture of fear and fury flashing across his face. “None of that matters to him. He doesn’t care about her—he just wants control.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. You couldn’t lose Willa. Not to Ward. Not after everything you’d fought for, everything Sarah and John B. had wanted for her.

“What do we do?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rafe looked at you, and for the first time in weeks, the coldness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something raw and real. “We fight him,” he said firmly. “We don’t let him win.”

But as he said the words, the doubt in his voice betrayed him. Because deep down, you both knew that Ward Cameron wasn’t a man who fought fair. And the thought of what he might do to get his way sent a chill down your spine.

The battle for Willa had just begun, and it was about to shake everything you thought you knew.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hello! we are IGNORING that this is almost a whole year late to last year's steddiemas, and we are pretending that i am super awesome at writing things on time! (but i think this the first time i'm on time to a lex challenge lmao)

@steddiemas Day 30 - "I love seeing you flustered, it's cute." AND @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six -ber Month Challenge - "You got me this?"

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,875 | rated: M | on AO3: this year

Eddie’s hot on his heels as they swing through Steve’s bedroom door, the former pressing the latter back into it once closed and, surprisingly, doesn’t go for a kiss. Eddie presses close, slotting a thigh between Steve’s, then leans in, eyes closed, to gently drag his nose along the shape of Steve’s. 

Steve practically melts.

“Hey big boy,” Eddie whispers

Steve hums, pushing one leg just a bit higher between Eddie’s, feeling the not so insubstantial thickness there. “Hey yourself..” 

That pulls a laugh from Eddie, and he opens his eyes. The already dark chocolate of them seem darker in the low light coming from the bedside lamp Steve is suddenly glad he forgot to switch off earlier tonight.

They look at each other for a moment, each of them taking in the other. Then they break out in laughs, pulling together again with a sigh (from which of the two is unknown).

Lips locked and moving steadily together, Steve nudges Eddie back from the door.

Surprisingly, he moves easily, as if he’s not quite aware of moving. That is, until, just before Steve goes to push Eddie down onto his bed, Eddie spins them and pushes Steve back instead.

He shuffles backward up the mattress, awkwardly pulling the pillow up from under him while Eddie watches, amused.

“Good?” he asks when Steve finally leans back against the headboard.

Steve huffs a laugh, rolls his eyes, “Yeah Eddie, I’m good.”

“Good.” Eddie nods, then takes a step backward and launches himself onto Steve.

He lands, bony and uncoordinated, between Steve’s legs with an ‘Oof’.

Steve too, gets the breath knocked out from under him. “Was that really necessary?” he wheezes.

“Absolutely.” Eddie wheezes in return, “Now, where were we?” He starts to get his arms under himself, seeming to struggle pushing up off the squashy mattress.

“Before you tried to kill us both?”

He pushes into Steve further, his hips aligning properly this time, and draping his upper body over Steve’s. “Precisely.”

Eddie lowers his face to Steve’s again and all the sarcastic retorts are flushed from his brain.

After a few minutes and also no time at all, Eddie pulls back enough to change position.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” His lips are hot where they lazily push and drag along the skin where his jaw meets neck.

“Want you,” Steve manages in response, not quite the full response he’d be trying for.

He can feel Eddie’s smile against his skin. “Y’have me,”

“Want you to fuck me.”

The sound Eddie makes sounds as if it was punched out of him, but he manages to say “Can’t.” 

A rock thuds into Steve’s stomach. “Huh?”

“I mean,” another open-mouthed kiss is pressed to his neck, “We can't really go any farther,”

Eddie’s continued ministrations make it hard to think, but Steve manages a breathy “We can't?”

Lips leave the meat of his neck with a final wet kiss, then Eddie’s locking eyes with him again, “Not until we get some lube. I may be less experienced than you, Stevie, but I at least know that much.”

Steve blinks at him in surprise, thoughts swirling in his head and behind his lips about that revelation, but pushes it down, instead twisting for the bedside drawer. He finds what he’s looking for in only a couple practiced swipes. “Here.”

Eddie's jaw drops, grasping the bottle of lube in his palm “You just…have? This?

“Well, yeah.”

“Why??”

Steve shrugs, “I've kept it on hand ever since Carol, Tommy, and I would— you know what? It doesn't matter; now, you gonna ruin me with that monster of yours, or what?”

Eddie blinks at him this time, then shakes his head as if clearing away a thought.

”Sure sweetheart,” he kisses Steve again, “Though I’m kinda pissed I’m not gonna be the first one in that pretty ass of yours.”

Steve sucks Eddie’s lower lip into his mouth and bites at it as Eddie pulls back, “Tommy never— you’ll be the first.”

Eddie stares down at him, and Steve watches the color flood into his cheeks as his expression shifts from confusion to cockiness. “Well then,” he tosses the bottle up and catches it again with fervor, grinning almost giddily, “Your wish is my command; But first..” He leans back in and kisses him again, putting the bottle back onto the nightstand.

Steve laughs when Eddie pulls back to get at the other side of his neck. “You–hah– like kissing, Munson?”

“Like kissing you.” He mumbles against Steve’s adam’s apple, “Love seeing you flustered. It’s cute.” He leans up then, looking Steve in the face, “But don’t call me Munson when I’m about to go down on you.”

“You are?”

Eddie just grins and sits back, tugging at the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants.

-x-

Having worked through the previous night on Steve’s jacket, having worked over Steve all evening, Eddie’s beat (hah) by the time his and Steve’s breaths finally slow late that night. Even with the good chunk of hours he slept through that morning.

And now, as he lays boneless on Steve’s chest, he sleepily blinks out at the snowflakes filtering past Steve’s window.

He tracks the path of one clump from where it seemingly appears out of nowhere as it passes into the low light coming from the bedside lamp, all the way down to where it lands on the strip of the stuff accumulating on the sill.

Two, three more times he does this, finally stirring to look up at Steve.

His hair is a sweaty mess, drying plastered to his forehead, floating above the pillowcase with the static, sticking straight up into the air…

“Your hair’s a mess.”

Steve’s blissful expression crinkles up in laughter, he looks down at Eddie in return, eyes flicking all over his own face and hair, “Yours is worse.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Eddie hums, rests his chin on Steve’s chest, “We should probably take a shower before we fall asleep.”

Steve, whose eyes had stayed shut on his last blink, opens his eyes with an unconcerned hum. “Probably.”

Neither make any sort of move to get up for a few more minutes; Steve’s hand does, however, start to trace a figure eight onto the skin of Eddie’s back.

“Hmmmokay, okay, I seriously almost fell asleep that time.” Steve finally says, startling Eddie out of the doze he’d somehow fell into, “Let’s go, shower time.”

Slowly, sleepily, they shower; both their hands end up wandering over the other, Steve winning out on getting his hand around them both for one more tally for the night, and are back in bed, and clean, another five minutes later.

The next morning, they wake up slowly, stirring, then fully rising after a heated, morning breath riddled, makeout session.

“No, really Ed, we should— you should get going, isn’t Wayne going to be up soon?”

Not missing that slip, but choosing to ignore it for now, Eddie squints playfully up at Steve as he pushes up off the bed and towards his dresser, “You want me outta here that bad, Stevie? Got your other boyfriend coming over soon?”

Steve shakes his head, closing the drawer he’d been rifling through and turning back around to face him. “Yeah Ed, I’ve got a full roster of Christmas blowjobs to hand out today, so..” he makes a shoo-ing motion at him, then pulls his shirt on over his slept-with-it-wet bed head.

Eddie laughs, pushing up to sit in the center of the bed, “Would you like to come over for cinnamon rolls, Stevie?”

Steve waves him off immediately, “No, no, You have a good day with Wayne, Ed, but,” He shuffles over to his desk, reaches between it and his bedframe, and comes back with a small rectangular box, wrapped in a plaid paper that, if he tested it, Eddie was sure matched the pattern of the ribbon on the mantle. “You have to bring this to Wayne.”

Eddie takes a moment to revel in the fact that Steve got his uncle a Christmas present, that his boyfriend Steve got his uncle a Christmas present, he shakes his head, shuffling to the edge of the bed, “No can do, Stevie,” he says as he stands, “Munson rule, you bought it, you gift it.”

-x-

“We’re home!” Eddie yells as soon as the door is open, pulling Steve inside then letting his hand go to greet Wayne in the kitchen with a hug.

Steve takes the moment to put his box under the Munson’s tree in the corner, short and twinkling softly, a modest and lovingly wrapped pile of other gifts taunting him under the colored panels of Sunday comics.

The box is shoved behind the next biggest box, and he’s standing again before Wayne and Eddie have even released the other, “Merry Christmas old man, our rolls ready yet?”

“Y’know, I remind myself every day how much I love ya.” Eddie grins at his uncle, and Steve can’t decide if he picked up on the jab or not. “And yes, you ungrateful little shit, the rolls are almost done.”

His mustache remains curved up as he shakes his head fondly and turns back to the oven.

“Great! By the way, Steve’s here.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. How’s it goin’ Steve?”

“I’m great, thanks. Thanks for having me over, Eddie offered and said you wouldn’t mind…?”

Wayne looks up at him then, ducking to peer through the gap between the cabinets and counter of the peninsula. “Of course I don’t, boy, you crazy? It’s Christmas!”

“Stevie here said he ‘Didn’t want to intrude.’.” Eddie adds unhelpfully, sucking something off his finger.

“No intrusion here Steve, you know you’re always welc— Theodore Munson you keep your fingers outta that frosting!”

Steve snorts out an ugly laugh, “Theodore?”

Wayne looks between Eddie (still frozen with his finger in his mouth), and Steve, who finally feels like he can wander to the end of the counter. “You mean you’ve been goin’ on and on about this boy for months, years now, and he never knew your name’s Theodore?”

Wayne’s eyes are positively glowing with mischief. 

Eddie finally unfreezes, “Yeah, well, Steve’s middle name is Otis. Otis! Can you believe that?”

Steve only shrugs, unphased by this transgression (surely infuriatingly to Eddie), “I was named after my Grandpa.”

“No shit? So was Teddy.”

Steve barely contains his glee, “Oh cool, why didn’t you tell me, Teddy?”

“I hate you both so much.” Eddie grumbles, then stalks off down the hall.

“Awe, c’mon teddy, where’re you going?” Steve teases more, following Eddie to his room.

“I’m changing into my PJs, leave me alone!” he calls back.

Steve leans in the doorway and watches Eddie shed his vest and jacket, his shirt, all before he even goes to his dresser for a pair of sweats.

He tosses a pair of lounge pants at Steve, and continues to scowl as he sheds his jeans.

“You’re not mad for real, are you?”

“No,” he sighs, pulling up the sweats, “Just mourning the loss of my final secret.”

“Aww,” Steve coos teasingly, tossing his lended pants onto Eddie’s mattress and moving forward to cup Eddie’s face, “You gonna make it,” he pauses, “Teddy bear?”

Eddie, who had started to melt into the hold, scoffs, and pushes him off, but seemingly can’t help but laugh, “You’re the worst person in the whole world.”

“Yeah, well, you still love me.” Steve says, shrugging as he goes back for his lended comfy pants.

He’s done toeing off his shoes and is about to start unbuckling his belt when Eddie says, “Yeah, I think I do.”

It was said so quietly, and just as the timer in the kitchen goes off, so it takes Steve all the way until his belt, button, and fly are completely undone before he registers what Eddie had said..

And what he said. 

His hands drop from his jeans down to his sides. He turns to face Eddie again.

“You do?”

Eddie nods, and Steve’s jeans unceremoniously fall to his ankles.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to ugly laugh, though he clamps his hand over his mouth in glee to stop it.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, when Wayne’s voice calls down the hall and it breaks through his daze.

“Hands better be stayin’ above the waist down there!”

Eddie laughs again, Steve finally kicks his jeans off his feet. His face is broiling.

“Yeah Wayne, just changing!” Eddie calls back.

“Well hurry it up, rolls are all ready to go.”

“Be there in a sec.”

Steve finally finishes pulling on his new pants, tying them tight at the waist, “Wayne knows?” he whispers to Eddie.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, of course he does.” he waves off Steve’s worries and picks up his t-shirt, pulling it on over his head, “Now c’mon, I’m starving.”

“Hey, wait,” Steve catches him in the doorway and presses a kiss to his lips, “I love you too.”

-

Twenty minutes later, with their stomachs full and teeth aching, the three shuffle into the living room from the Munsons’ little table. 

“Alright’ who’s first?”

“Steve!” Eddie says at the same time Steve says “Eddie!”

Wayne only shrugs, “Sounds good to me, Ed, yours is that one covered in Garf, Steve, yours is that smaller rectangle one.”

Somehow, Eddie’s already got his half torn open by time he hands Steve his gift.

“Wayne, you didn’t have to–”

“Oh sick! I needed a new pair of these,” Eddie exclaims, pulling a bright white sneaker from the box in his lap, “Thanks Wayne!”

Newsprint crinkles as Eddie shifts the box around to grab the only remaining newspaper-wrapped box and tossing it to Wayne.

“Can’t say I never get you anything,”

Wayne tears into his package, and soon, is lifting out a fur-lined bomber hat. “This is great, thanks kiddo,” He clasps the earflaps over the leather crown of the head and tugs it on.

“Yeah, and it cost me a pretty penny,” Eddie teases, as he pulls the laces out of his new, identical to his well-worn ones by the door, shoes. “So you better wear it.”

“Whattya mean! I’m wearin’ it right now!”

Steve leaves them to their playful jabs, and starts tearing open the newspaper on his own gift.

He gets it open, and his eyes widen. He immediately flips over the wrappings unnecessarily, he can tell they are the funnies from here. 

He stares down at the box in his hands, and laughs. Eddie pauses in his re-lacing efforts to look up at the sound.

“Hope that means you like ‘em.” Wayne says, and, still grinning, Steve looks up at him. While he was stuck figuring out his present, it seems Eddie’s taken it upon himself to toss his balled newspaper wrappings and the paper wrappings from his shoebox into Wayne’s lap. “Now I know it’s new and all, but sue me for gettin’ sappy about you boys havin’ Christmases all on your own,” he shrugs, “Thought you’d want a couple’a traditional Munson mugs to startcha off.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the implication and, still smiling (and with his hands now free of the box of two matching mugs as Eddie had taken it from him to examine), Steve stands, grabs Wayne’s present, and passes it to him.

“You got me this?” Wayne asks incredulously, “You spoil me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Just open it.”

Wayne’s only torn off one corner when he bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asks, trying to see what’s under the paper.

“Now I know this is new and all,” Steve teases, putting on a horrible impression of Wayne’s half-lost accent, “But I thought you’d want some traditional Munson mugs.”

This only makes Wayne laugh harder, his recliner shakes with it.

“What? Someone tell me what’s going on!”

“Oh that’s hilarious,” Wayne wheezes, coming down from his fit with a few wayward giggles, and finishes tearing off the paper.. from an identical set of two Christmas-themed mugs he’d just gifted Steve.

Eddie starts to laugh, pulling both Steve and Wayne into another bout each, “Well, I guess we’ll never have a shortage of Christmas mugs.” Eddie says, taking the second box from Wayne’s armrest. “You better use them whenever we can’t make it back home for the holidays, old man.”

Steve’s stomach flips again at the thought of he and Eddie together this year and all the years to come.

“‘Course I will, you see any other Christmassy mugs hangin’ around here?” Waye says, gesturing around to his zillion other cups, “You just gotta use the other whenever you can.”

Wayne’s true to his word, always assuring them over the phone that he’s got his mug out whenever they get stuck up in Chicago, out in Los Angeles, complaining that “My sleigh is lookin’ a little worse for wear.” every time.

And when, only a couple handfuls of too few years later when Steve and Eddie pull out their set of three matching Christmas mugs the year after Wayne is gone, it makes them laugh before anything else.

“He’s got his, don’t worry Teddy.”

“I know he does,” Eddie murmurs, looking down at the mug in his hand, then snorts a laugh, “That sleigh’s toast by now.”

i'm laughing at the fact this started smutty and ended sad lmao

i found two boxes of these mugs from the 80s in oct last year and had always planned them to be written in as an accidental double gift between steve and wayne

also, you will pull Theodore "Eddie/Teddy" Munson from my cold dead hands

ALSO ALSO special shoutout to @steddiehasmywholeheart who has been reading this today and sending me notifs with a comment on each chap as they do that made me say 'you know what, i need to finish this. today. as a special surprise for them specifically.'

find me on ko-fi! ☕

[cmdrfupa]

“Perfect match.” Was all Shoko could say before she introduced you to Kento upon his return to the world of sorcery. It was always no marriage until he retired from his role and Nanami knew he should’ve kept his word. But you were a welcomed change to his always-exhausted mental and a challenge to his monotonous life. He just wishes he could pinpoint where it went wrong.

Hello! Refer here for information about this ongoing series! I appreciate you reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy ✨

REFORM

We're only a train ride away. Love you, and come to us anytime.- Iori

You read the attached card to the cotton percale duvet set Utahime and Shoko got you months ago. They never saw the light of day during your separate room trial. Nanami and you seemed to find yourself in the comfort of each other's arms against your therapist's better judgment every time.

The room echoed as you shuffled around, throwing the rest of your undergarments in your duffel. The new room smell had been gradually overtaken in the past few weeks by the orchid-scented soy wax candle you had treasured in your once-shared bedroom.

"It is important to maintain physical and emotional boundaries while you sort through your emotions."

Your brain was buzzing with your therapist's words as you rechecked the dresser's drawers for good measure. 

You were used to the house being cold, as you and Nanami agreed that anything above 68 degrees was inhumane. But the lack of furniture in the guest bedroom brought it to a bone-chilling cold. 

Air humidifier quietly hummed in the distant corner, the last bag of belongings on your shoulder as you walked down the hall one more time.

"Ken?" The living room showed no signs of him, and his keys were gone.

Was probably for the best he wasn’t there.

You left the note against a short glass on the wet bar in den. “Can’t say he didn’t see it if it’s sitting here.”

No argument. No tempting to keep you home.

You were gone.

  Divorce was going to be your demand until your mother said that was too harsh for a couple who hadn't tried counseling yet. Initially, you and Nanami decided on therapy and a few more date nights.

After the first two sessions, you both promised to make the pertinent changes to save your marriage. You almost had a bit of faith for a while as you made minor adjustments per your therapist's suggestion. But that never occurred from his end. 

You asked for a separation that would become legal once you figured out the following steps: living arrangements or possibly going back to your sorcerer clan and training whoever Gojo sent to you. Your options were not only limited but far more depressing than you realized. That night, Kento watched you move your belongings to the guest bedroom, giving up on making things right far too soon.

Living in the same home but being separated created a surreal and often uncomfortable atmosphere Nanami didn't expect. 

After six years of marriage, a sense of familiarity came with your daily routine—the smell of Chickory coffee brewing promptly at 6:30 as you hummed your gentle tunes, precisely putting on your makeup was his wake-up call. However, the feeling of being disconnected and distant became far more prominent when he reached over, and only a decorative pillow was in your place. Your hums were too far away to enjoy. Another rough morning. He sat on the side of the bed, gruffing as he scooted his feet into the slippers.

The sleep wore off as he walked towards the kitchen, the bright, smelling coffee filling his nostrils with each slothful step. As he hit the threshold, your familiar happy hum hit his ears. With your back to him, you stood there tasting your coffee, your robe hanging off your shoulders, your scarf wrapped to protect your hair loosely held on. "Mm. Just a little more creamer."

"Think of agreeing on scheduled times to use spaces like the kitchen. They can still make enough coffee for both of you if they like, but allow the other person time to make their coffee and leave the kitchen before you go to make yours."

The therapist gave the piss poor idea, and you ran with it. A stranger telling you what needs to be done regarding your marriage. And yet he did it because he wanted to make anything work with you, even if he genuinely thought it was a waste. You knew him; you knew everything about him. You'd known him at his worst and wanted marriage counseling to help pick apart something good from Kento's perspective.

He turned and stood in the hallway, putting himself directly in line with you. His heart ached, wishing he could steal a kiss and wrap himself around you the same way he had for years.

_____________________

The ticking clock filled your den's silence as you and Kento took a break from verbally jousting for the fourth time that week.

He'd come home after not calling you back much earlier in the day. You’d heard about a special grade curse roaming between the school and the local city hall he volunteered to see about. No communication, no sign of remorse.

"We've made strides." Kento slumped back into the chair, watching how your leg shook with each empty moment he created. "I'm home more; only every other Saturday is mandatory now, and we've been going to counseling. Is this not enough for you? Am I the only one expected to change?"

"We've gone to two sessions. Which the first you left early and the second you showed up in the last 15 minutes." Patience had run thin and the grace you were always willing to extend had worn. "You avoid discussing scheduling the next one even when its a good day for you. I have done everything but change my fucking first name for the sake of trying, Kento."

Kento swirled the bourbon absentmindedly. The conversation was going in circles yet again. "I have changed everything you've complained about. I asked what you needed from me as your husband, and you gave me nothing to work with other than you want to know how I'm feeling. Honey. I'm fucking tired is how I’m feeling and this isn’t helping. What's missing?"

You could only muster a laugh to keep the flood of tears from invading. "I feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything more than half the time, Ken. Like I only get parts of you while everyone else gets all of you. Do I not deserve that? What's changed? What are we doing?"

His rich eyes found yours for a quick moment. "We're doing what you've been begging me to do. We're talking now."

—————————

"Well fuck, you said that? No wonder she's staying with Utahime."

A bitter taste punched the back of Nanami's throat before he looked over in Gojo's direction. 

It had been four months since that night, and he'd made it everyone's problem since. More annoyed than usual at work, Nanami had a quicker temper towards all staff and was facing his hell going back to an empty house night after night.

  "Despite me being the hottest, most desired person you've known since high school-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish, Nanami." Gojo sipped his piña colada and licked his lips in the most bothersome manner possible. "Despite being gorgeous and desired, I am also very knowledgeable about relationships and everyone else's business."

From the end of the bar, Kento signaled for another whiskey sour.

"Alright. Tell me what you've perceived, six eyes."

Gojo sat up straight on the bar stool as if he had an audience to entertain. "Your wife often called me when she couldn't contact you. She called me asking if I'd heard from you when you would go on missions alone. I was giving her status updates on you. Why?"

Celebratory sounds filled the bar as the college students slammed another round of shots in the brightly lit booth in the corner. 

The ring on Kentos' finger suddenly felt five sizes too small.

"Utahime, of all people, called me when you weren't answering because she showed up scared shitless." boisterous cheers filled the space as someone named Jai chugged a pint down. 

"Your partner got on a 3 1/2 hour train ride to Kyoto when she didn't hear from you. When were you upset about seeing me at your house after midnight that night? I was there because I happily drove over 6 hours back and forth to get your wife."

"Enough, Gojo," the drinks seemed weaker as he downed this one in a single gulp before getting the barkeep's attention. "Another one, please."

Gojo knew he had a few more buttons to press before he could stop. "The day after her birthday, she called Shoko and started crying. Sobbing, really." slurping the last remnants of his colada, Gojo sighed heavily.

"Gojo." Nanami gripped the glass before him, muttering his name.

"Upset that you found something to nitpick before completely shutting her out. You're a real piece of work, you know."

Gojo had no time to move before Kento grabbed him by the collar.

"If I shove the stem of this glass through your ears, how far do you think it'll go?"

"Someone's touchy, Nami." The bar quieted by a few decibels as nearby patrons watched Nanami hold Gojo by his neck. "Those whiskey sours are starting to get to that blonde head of yours." Gojo's cheeky tone was like that of a toddler who had gotten someone in trouble.

Gojo cheesed as Kento let go of his collar.

Nanami downed the remainder of his drink, and the bartender wasted no time making his next one.

"Wanna talk now instead of making empty threats?" Gojo drank a sip of water before licking the sugary rim of his glass.

"I fucked up, Gojo." He was left with this: a late Saturday evening at a college bar, talking to Satoru about his failing marriage. Patting his breast pocket, Nanami seethed at the words written on the note you left him. "She said she doesn't recognize her Kento. That I'ma ghost of him or whatever."

Part of Gojo hated seeing Nanami sulking this way. Sure, they never saw eye to eye for years, but you were a common factor in their lives.

A positive one. And Nanami knew just as well as Gojo that they were the two men who knew you best.

You were hurting, but so was Nanami. And Gojo knew why.

"Nanami. Talk with your wife."

"We talked every damn day."

"No. You talk to her like she’s some intern you have a grudge against. It would help if you talked with her like a man who's afraid of losing his wife."

"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Nanami managed to squint, his vision officially tanking as Gojo became a slightly hazy figure of himself.

"Elle magazine talks about shitty husbands pretty frequently. I read it often and can confidently say you aren't alone in the shitty husband community."

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. You tossed around for 3 hours before getting up to sit out on the balcony, hoping the late-night breezes would calm you. The clouds broke sparingly, allowing the moon to peek through while you watched the stars try to shimmer through the thick blankets.

Four months of staying at Utahime's old home back in Kyoto led you to return to Tokyo because you knew putting off the divorce was doing more harm than good. You weren't running away. You just needed a break from seeing him in every hallway or advisory meeting.

With some help from Gojo, you hired a great lawyer who drew up the divorce papers within 12 hours, giving you a chance to serve them yourself when you stopped thinking about how the opportunity to do it would come up.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you shuffled back in, locking up until a recognizable tone struck your ears.

"It's your husband. Please open the door," A familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door.

"Please. Gojo told me you were back in town staying with Shoko." His words slurred as he pounded on the door. The neighbors were definitely not pleased to hear a drunken ruckus this late.

"I need to see you. I need you." A thud got you to move swiftly to the door, opening it to find Kento with his forehead against the wall next to it. "Thank fuck." He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed more than the earth.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive?" The warm air of the hallway rushed into the condo as you stood in the doorway.

He was like a lost puppy. Warm eyes low like he couldn't look at you without guilt eating him alive. "No. No no. Gojo got me a cab." You saw blood on his hand as he brought his phone to your face. "Can you tell him I made it safely?"

Gojo got him a cab. Here. You'd be talking to him about this stunt later.

"Ken, you're bleeding."

"It's just a small scratch. It'll be fine."

Come in, and I'll wake Shoko to look at it."

"She already hates me for being a shit husband to you." The gash in his palm wasn't urgent, but the amount of blood on his arms showed it still needed attention. He finally dared to look you in the eyes as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"Can you fucking stop and let me help?" You tried hiding your longing behind your voice's assertion, but that didn't escape him. He couldn't stop trying to push you further away. Distance, at this point, felt like the only solution.

"I'm fine. Stop." The firmness in his voice forced you to take half a step back.

This wasn't a buzz from a few drinks with Shoko after work; this was Kento hammered, which was hard to get to but possible.

This state of drunkenness only happened once, and it was after being released from the hospital post-Shibuya. You watched him drink himself to sleep for months, telling yourself everyone has a vice while trying to have understanding. But it became too much for you and everyone close. Nanami's drinking was getting unmanageable yet again.

You grabbed his uninjured hand and led him into the apartment. Inert moonlight streamed across the room, and the dimly lit recessed lights were your only lighting source. You placed him in front of the kitchen sink, letting the water run over the wound. "Stand here, don't move your hand from under the water, and don't talk."

He watched you march away to rustle through the guest bathroom cabinet before emerging with a first aid kit. Without uttering a word, you stood beside him, watching the pinkish-red water circle down the drain until it cleared.

Gently patting his hand dry with gauze before spraying saline solution around the wound, you broke the silence. "How did you cut your hand."

A deep breath that smelt of pure alcohol filled the gap between you. "Grabbed a broken glass at the bar." hiccuping, Kento pressed up against the counter. "Broke it after some guy said Gojo and I were a cute couple."

Surely, you misheard him. "What? You tried to stab him?"

Kento smirked as he watched your bewildered eyes. "I'm not one for stabbing. You know I'm more of a slashing type of man, baby."

It's like the wires in your mind got sewn together. The tired smile growing on your face soothed that itch Nanami had for weeks. "I suppose."

Nanami scanned your arms and shoulders as you remained in close contact with his left side. He knew your skin was just as soft as it was months ago. Supple and warm when he would run his knuckles across your thighs during his evening unwind. A dull pain from the cold feeling of tweezers in his hand brought him back. "Shit." grunting through the uncomfortable feeling.

Small glass fragments clanged into the dish as you dropped it. "None of the pieces got too deep into the wound."

As you finished cleaning the wound, a few drops of blood surfaced. You quickly grabbed another clean gauze, tenderly covering the wound before applying gentle pressure to Nanami's palm. His fingers instinctively gripped around your hand as if holding on to you would make sure you wouldn't vanish from his side.

The close proximity made your throat dry as you dried the wound again, patting it more than necessary to avoid his knowing gaze. "Almost done." You opened the sterile pad and placed it on his wound, holding it down while you tried unraveling the rolled bandage with the chin and hand combo.

He watched you intently, knowing that all he needed was for you to look at him. He was burning to see a sign that you still hadn't totally given up on him. Kento needed to know he had someone with his best interest at heart, even if he couldn't be vulnerable without being an intoxicated mess.

You carefully tore the bandage and expertly wrapped it around his hand before tying it off. "And there we go." Trying to prolong the cleanup only made the air heavy while Kento watched you closely. For every two steps you took, he took four to stay close to you. "Are you close enough?" the heat from his upper body radiated on your back as you wiped the counter down. "Unfortunately, no. I'd rather be under your skin and inside of you, but I'm trying to work on earning that privilege back." "Kento." "Yes, my love?" Any attempt at a casual facade was gone, unable to shake the emotions that threatened to consume you both. "You can take the guest bedroom, and I'll take the couch. It's too late for you to go anywhere." Kento closed in a few inches. "We could both sleep in the guest bed. Ample space, no?" The low lights in the kitchen cast a warm, intimate glow over the room, and you became keenly aware of the scent of whiskey and his Initio Phsychadelic Love cologne as you moved closer. "Nothing more than sleeping." "Nothing more than sleeping. What else would we do in bed?"

There would always be a chance of falling back into the same routine. Apologies, sex that silenced the blaring alarms in your mind, a week of cohabitating in peace before the cycle of low-effort communication and quiet dinners would resurface. But, you allowed the only intimacy you yearned for the last month.

His arms surround you like a tight-fitting sweater taking you in. His arms were your shelter, and your heartbeat motivated him to live. You'd settled into the queen-sized bed after both successfully fighting off very apparent sexual tension marinating between you both. His lips traveled across your chest. Faint kisses left on every available part of your skin as you combed through his light locks. "I want to go back to therapy. I promise I'll be open and try." The feeling of his stubble-covered chin rested on your sternum. Looking down to meet those glossy brown eyes that showed exhaustion and the early stages of sobering up.

"I want honesty. No half-ass truths while there, Kento." "No half-ass truths from me as long as you are transparent about your thoughts. You can't HR yourself out of sharing your raw thoughts." Sticking your pinky out, you waited for Kento to link his. No hesitation, he locked his pinky around yours.

"We'll make it work. I swear on my life.”

[luvneymar]

princess treatment pt.3? with mbappé, richarlison, and erling haaland? :)

# PRINCESS TREATMENT 3! — footballers! (final!)

— SUMMARY: you show off the princess treatment you get from your footballers boyfriends! (part 1) (part 2)

CONTENT: fluff, footballers being simps, light jealousy, sensual themes, just cute stuff overall!

PARINGS: earling haaland x fem!reader, richarlison x fem!reader, oliver giroud x fem!reader

NOTE: someone asked for giroud content so I combined it with this lol! any examples of this do not represent of the body type, race or ethnicity of the reader! tysm for reading! 💕

RICHARLISON DE ANDRADE — dollar bills!

Recently you saw a trend on TikTok where girls would hold their hands out to their boyfriends, friends, brothers or literally anybody to see what they would do.

Richarlison was currently playing video games with his friends on FaceTime but fortunately you placed your camera in the room before he went in & you’ve been recording ever since.

You were holding your phone camera in your hand as discreetly as possible to not alert your boyfriend about the challenge your trying on him. “Baby? are you in here?” You peaked into his gaming room spotting him on his chair as he shouted at Neymar for something in among us.

Hearing your voice his head whipped around and he opened his arms signalling you to come over, you shuffled over giving him a hug as his head was pressed onto your stomach & hands were wrapped around your ass.

Once you both pulled away your challenge had begun as you stuck out your palm standing there with a bright smile, at first he hadn’t noticed anything as he turned back to the computer screen.

Until you were standing there for a good 30 seconds & he spun his head around to look at you quickly before looking back at the screen, he took his hand off the mouse taking your hand flipping it over to the backside of your hand & giving it a kiss.

He turned back to the screen until he realized you were still standing there; cheeky smile on your face palm still stuck out in-front of you, he chuckled as he dug through his pants pulling out his wallet.

“Richarlison? Are you still there?” Neymar called at alerting him that the new round had started.

“Yeah I’m here hold on.” He replied back as he fished through his wallet grabbing a huge stack of cashing & placing it in your hand along with his black card. “Happy?” He asked looking up at your face which was filled with surprise.

You hadn’t expected him to give you this much money let alone any at all as you assumed he’d just take your hand & place it on his private parts. You scoffed happily curling your fingers over the stack. “Definitely, but what will I even do with this much money?”

“Whatever you’d like baby, it’s all yours.” He answered turning his head back to the screen & unmuting himself on face-time. You gave him a quick kiss pulling his face towards you before walking away checking your phone to see if the footage was recorded.

You edited the video a little before posting it captioning it with: “HE’S SO SWEET 😭😭” Seconds later likes, comments & replies came flooding in about how Richarlison was the perfect boyfriend.

OLIVER GIROUD — first class!

“You’re so excited baby have you never flown out of the country?” Oliver chuckled watching you practically fly out of the valet car that was escorting you to the airport tarmac.

Ever since you complained about how you haven’t gone on a vacation in a while that very day Oliver booked your dream vacation paying for unnecessary expenses like tour guides & other things; as-long as it made you happy he thought.

“I have! I’ve never been to the Mal Dives though.” You answered pulling his arm to get him out of the car, you both didn’t need to worry about your luggage since Oliver paid for it to be flown before-hand.

“I’m coming babe hold on, you’re gonna rip my arm off.” Oliver laughed as he stepped out of the car turning his head to look at what you were staring at all starry eyed.

“Look, it’s a private jet. Just for the two of us.” You rambled on about the jet standing in-front of you both, you were used to Oliver spending a fortune on you whether it was cars, jewellery or even 1000 roses but a whole jet was much different.

“I know, do you like it?” He asked as he placed his hands in his pockets leaning back and forth between his heels and his toes. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t like this.” You laughed in disbelief.

“I’m glad you like it, c’mon baby let’s board the plane before they leave without us.” Oliver took your hand into his as he directed you towards the plane, you greeted the flight attendant who was waiting for you at the entrance as she guiding you both to your seats.

Once you both were settled in your chairs chatting happily about your upcoming adventures a flight attendant had came around with a cart filled with expensive looking drinks & desserts. “Champagne or Club Soda?” She asked with a smile.

“Champagne please, babe what about you?” You turned to look at your boyfriend who was staring at the window as he unconsciously caressed your knuckles with his thumb, you squeezed your hand bringing his attention back to you.

“Hmm? Oh, I’ll have whatever your having.” He leaned into kiss you on your cheek before turning to stare out the window again continuing to stroke your knuckles, you smiled turning back to the attendant,“2 Champagnes please.”

As the flight attended walked away Oliver noticed that you had a particularly slummed look on your face, you were just jumping around in joy so seeing you down worried him.“Are you okay?”

“Yep! Just thinking of what we’re gonna do when we get there.” You sent your signature “i’m fine” smile his way continuing you tap your feet against the empty seat right in-front of you as you looked back down to face your feet.

“You look worried though.” He let go of your hand using his freed hand to pull your face towards his forcing you to face him, seeing his eyes filled with concern made you sigh before continuing, “Yeah it’s just, how much was this trip?”

His face soften hearing what you we’re concerned about, you both had fight’s about money in the past & about how Oliver spent way to much money on pointless things,“Oh, don’t worry about that baby.”

“I have too, you can’t go broke because you wanna please me. I’ll be fine with whatever you provide.” You admitted in a quiet voice turning your head to face the window across from your aisle. “With my profession I’ll go broke the day you go bald.”

“What if I go Bald tomorrow?” You wanted to laugh at his joke but it was quite hard knowing you really could go bald tomorrow & Oliver could become broke, after all nobody knows what could happen.

“You wouldn’t, what I’m trying to say is. I spend this money to make you smile, whether it’s a large purchase or small it’s for you. In this case; a private jet just for my princess.”

Hearing your boyfriend be so adamant about you spending his money & not thinking of you as a sugar baby or a gold digger relieved you greatly. Yes, you both were dating but you weren’t a mind reader, for all you know he could be planning to kill you.

“Alright then, on that note; I could get used to this. Fast.” You pushed your insecure thoughts to the side as you settled into your seat properly reclining the seat, feeling in all the luxuries to the max. He chuckled at your childishness as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder pulling you in.

“Get used to it baby, you’re stuck with me, my jet & my money forever.”

ERLING HAALAND — giant teddybear!

“I told you not to eat so many sweets before went on the ride, no wonder you almost threw up.” Your boyfriend reminded you as he leaned over helping you walk throughout the winter carnival without collapsing.

Seeing that his good friend Jude had gone recently to the Winter Wonderland you decided it be good for the both of you to go as well, until it wasn’t. It was either Erling was too tall for some of the rides or you chickened out just looking at it.

But seeing as you were low-key being a party pooper for your boyfriend who you basically forced to come to the attraction you decided to go onto the wildest ride there was available; bad, bad idea.

Erling had bought you almost every single foot item you looked at for to long filling your stomach much faster than you’d like, by the 4th taco you ate you were ready to unbutton your pants & burst.

“It was fun wasn’t it though?” You groaned out patting the shoulder of your boyfriend signalling him to slow down as you felt as if you were going to barf, he slowed down waiting for you to gain your composure.

Seeing as you took a little longer than usual he bent down pulling your body on his back giving you a piggyback ride, you on the other hand smirked into his back tucking your legs around his waist. “All apart of my plan.” You muttered into his neck taking in his scent.

“Did you say something?” Erling asked as he begun to walk passing by multiple food-stalls that just the smell of the food made you sick, you wrapped your arms around his neck & placed your head in the crook of his collarbone.

“Nope! Nothing! Don’t worry about it baby.” You whispered into his ear closing your eyes in the process, as Erling walked past multiple stalls you closed your eyes feeling peaceful almost falling asleep till you jolted up after feeling as if you were falling.

As you opened your eyes you looked around seeing that the entrance was just a few miles away, something also caught your eye; a stand with gigantic teddy bears. “Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, waiting for you to say what you needed.

“Can you win that for me before we leave?” You asked him patting his shoulder to get him to slow down so he didn’t walk right by the stand.“Win what?”

“The giant teddy bear.” You slid down his back and turned towards the stall pointing to the humongous teddy bears.

“You’re such a child, fine.” Erling walked towards the stand grabbing a few of the tennis balls on the desk as he backed away throwing them at the targets scoring on each one of them.

The man at the stall handed him a giant pink bear almost the size of you leaving Erling to walk back to you giant big bear in hand stupid grin on his face, you took the bear out of his hand giving it a big squeeze. “Thanks baby.”

“What should I name him?” You asked as you both continued to walked towards the exits hand in hand, hearing that Erling turned to you looking at you weirdly, “You name your teddy bears?”

“Of course! Since you won him for me I’ll name him, Erlie.” You smiled at him squeezing his hand, Erling chuckled at your ridiculous as he bent down to give you a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re too cute, but Erlie is a horrible nickname love. Makes him sound like an old man.”

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day one

“you’re my new pillow” 

Tommy glances over at Evan as he shifts on the couch, a small smirk playing on his face. 

“You know you didn’t have to go on that hike with us,” Tommy tells him softly, stretching his arm out across the back of the couch. He brushes his hand down the back of Evan’s skull, and Evan leans into it instinctively, letting out a soft sigh. 

“I wanted to go,” Evan replies, turning his head towards Tommy. His gaze drops to the Bernese mountain dog settled between them, her chin settled on Evan’s thigh. “Besides, I think she’s warming up to me.” 

Tommy chuckles, rubbing a hand over the dog’s torso, in which she responds to by slapping her tail against his leg. 

“Yeah, Zale’s never met a stranger she didn’t think we should become best friends with,” he replies. “Have you, baby girl?”

Her ears perk up, but otherwise she stays resting on Evan’s lap. He spends a few seconds scratching her head, but when Tommy looks over again a few minutes later in the midst of a commercial, he spots Evan’s head lolling again. 

“Zale,” he commands, followed by a whistle. She stands to a attention, and then hops off the couch before moving around to Tommy’s other side, laying down next to him. He smirks and pats her on the head a few times before picking up an abandoned cow ear from the floor and passing it to her. 

The entire interaction makes Evan look up. He inhales a long breath, blinking slowly a few times. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, trailing his eyes up Tommy’s body to his face. “Yesterday was rough.” 

Tommy nods, stroking his thumb back and forth on the back of Evan’s head. 

“Do you want to go lay down in bed,” Tommy offers. The pout that takes over Evan’s mouth makes it more than clear that he does not prefer that option. “Okay then. Do you want to cuddle?” 

Weary as he is, a sleepy grin slides across Evan’s face. Tommy rolls his eyes but lets out a soft chuckle. 

“Alright.” 

He shifts on the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows from the chair next to him to settle against the arm of the couch. Evan stands, stretching as he does, and watches as Tommy leans back on the couch so that he’s laying down. Once he’s settled, he reaches for Evan’s hand and gives a gentle tug. Evan stares at down at him for a beat with those adoring eyes before he slots a knee between Tommy’s legs. He tries to come down slowly, but Tommy grabs his bicep and yanks him down in a quick tug, knocking the air out of both of them a little bit. 

“Just get comfortable,” Tommy orders him, but in a caring tone. Evan shuffles a bit against him, settling a little further down so that his head is resting directly over Tommy’s heart on his chest. Once he’s done moving around, Tommy’s hand slides back into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Evan sighs softly, and Tommy can feel his breathing deepen as he fades somewhere between sleep and awake. 

“Better,” he asks when the romcom they’ve been watching comes back on. It’s When Harry Met Sally, which Evan insists is a personal favorite of his. Tommy still prefers Love Actually, but he can see the subtle similarities between the two films. 

“You’re my new pillow,” Evan mutters, nuzzling against Tommy’s chest for a beat before he settles again. “Who knew a toned chest could be this comfortable.” 

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head at Evan settled on top of him. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs back to him, lifting his head to press a kiss into Evan’s scalp. Evan sighs again, and Tommy returns his attention back to the tv, still absentmindedly moving his fingers over Evan’s head. 

He can feel when Evan finally falls asleep, completely sinking into him, one hand wrapped around Tommy’s shoulder on the inside of the couch as the other hangs towards the floor. Tommy reaches down and lifts it up, kisses Evan’s fingers before resting his hand on his chest. Evan snuffles in his sleep, flexes his fingers and then encases a fist around Tommy’s shirt. 

Still, if Evan finds him to be a pillow, Tommy is pretty sure there’s not a weighted blanket on the market that could match his boyfriend. The warmth and weight of Evan is enough to have him lulling down before long, satisfied to just relish in this moment, curled up on the couch with his beautiful boy on a Saturday afternoon. 

[theanimeroom]

how would kazutora survive nnn 👀

NSFW UNDER THE CUT || MINORS DNI

NOVEMBER 1ST, 2023 || 11:42AM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

i'm sorry, but this dude is a loser in the best possible way. kazutora hanemiya is someone with little to no self-control, and i think that is a fact everyone knows. he was always a needy person, especially when it came to his friends. he would go out of his way for their attention and praise, even if it meant resorting to less... ethical methods.

you already knew that kazutora would have a difficult time making it through the challenge, as he was your obsessive boy who could never seem to keep his hands off of you. you would have loved to say you at least thought he would make it past the first week, but you didn't even have that much faith in the man to make that promise (and be grateful that you didn't, you almost owed baji 20 bucks for that bet).

when you had suggested the idea at first, you had just wanted to see his reaction. you didn't think that the moment the words left your mouth, he would immediately agree without even considering the longevity of it.

"a month? that's not that bad. if my baby wants to do it, then what reason do I have to say no?" he chirped, the brightest and happiest smile on his face. initially, you were ready to remind him that a month was in fact 30 days and that he could barely survive 15 minutes without trying to put his dick in your mouth because he "couldn't hold it anymore". but then you quickly remembered that the man is a simp, and you should have known that the moment you expressed your want for something, there was no way he could deny you.

despite that, you both joined the challenge on the first day of november, hoping that the three rounds you had last night would be enough to hold you both over for the next 30 days.

the next morning you woke up with a small moan, eyes finally peeling themselves open enough to see the sun shining through your window, alerting you to finally wake up and drag yourself out of bed. you reached behind you as you did every morning, feeling the strands of kazutora's hair draping over his face. had he not hummed pleasantly at the feeling of your fingers in his hair, you would have assumed that the man was still sleeping, his arm wrapped around your waist tightening its grip.

"good morning kazu," you spoke softly, voice still a bit raspy from sleep. he responded with a couple taps on your tummy, something he always did when he was too sleepy to actually give a verbal response. you smiled softly, shuffling more under the covers as you cuddled against his chest. you shut your eyes again, letting yourself revel in a few more minutes of sleep before deciding to get ready for the day ahead of you. you lay in silence for all of 10 minutes before you felt a rough hand caressing your stomach again, the light touch making you jerk a bit as you held in a laugh. when he did it again you giggled, jerking your hips back as you ran away from his touch. "baby, that tickles."

"sorry..." he grumbled, voice rumbling so deep that you nearly felt it in your own chest. he moved his hand from your stomach and chose instead to run it down the length of your leg, stopping momentarily to grab the underside of your knee. "you're just so soft..."

when his sentence had finished your leg was being lifted, kazutora resting the limb on his own, which he'd so precariously placed between yours. you didn't think much of it until the skin of kazutora's thigh was being pushed into your mound, a heavy gasp escaping you as the pressure made your stomach turn.

"so soft," he said again, this time crystal clear as his hand continued to trace every inch of exposed skin on your body. you only truly reacted when his hand slipped into your shirt, trapping one of your breasts between his fingers. he fondled the mass, relishing in the way your body reacted to his ministrations. your hips ground against his thigh, the heat in your stomach spreading as the man pinched your nipple softly. "and pliant."

"kazu..." you warned, although it sounded more like a plea for more in his ears than anything else. "we can't."

the man behind you whined, only playing with your tits more feverously at your rejection. "why? don't we always have sex in the morning?"

his voice sounded borderline distraught as you tried to remove his hand from your shirt.

"we're doing the challenge, remember? we've barely even made it 12 hours," your words made the man pout. he knew that he agreed to the challenge rather quickly, but you wouldn't actually deny him like this, would you?

"but i want you..." he pouted, sleepy hands moving once again to roam around your body. he didn't miss the way your hips never stopped grinding against his thigh, his free hand that wasn't playing in your hair moving towards his own mouth to wet his fingers before slipping them into your night shorts. a quiet moan came out of your mouth as his fingers flicked at your clit, your hand that was playing in his hair pulling at the strands harshly. "don't you want me too, baby?"

you did. you truly did want the man and honestly, with your current conditions, you didn't think that it would be that bad of an idea. you'd barely even started this challenge, so how hard would it be to just say you never even attempted at all? maybe if you just let it go this one time...

your thoughts were cut short by the feeling of kazutora's fingers sliding into your cunt, knocking the air out of you as you felt the digits curl, pressing directly into your g-spot. a curse passed your lips and it was only a moment later that you felt kazutora press against the side of your face, forcing you to look directly at him. "all you have to do is say the word. you know I can't say no to you," he purred. his bright eyes caught your attention immediately, and it was then that you knew you could never say no to him, either.

"please, kazu," you didn't hesitate before asking him, the challenge be damned. you didn't fight him as he leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours softly, a small moan slipping from the man's mouth to your own.

"more, baby!" kazutora groaned as spent no time stuffing you full of his cock the moment you asked, although you were sure it was more for him than you. your breathing was labored as you tried to find something to steady yourself, your hoisted leg and kazu's rapid thrusts almost forcing you off of the bed. you were still propped on your side, your boyfriend being more than too lazy to change positions. "fuck, keep fucking me like that."

you didn't have the time or energy to explain to him that he was the one fucking you, but let the man run his mouth regardless. this was something that you were used to already, his cries and pleas for you to do more when he was the one effectively leaving you brain dead. your hands found purchase in the sheets, holding onto them for dear life while kazutora pressed his body against yours, the warmth only inspiring the man to go harder.

"s-slow down baby..." you pleaded, feeling your body jerk with every stroke of his cock against your g-spot, your wet cunt squeezing around him so beautifully. "you're gonna...b-break me like t-this."

"let me," he demanded, holding your body still as he fucked you mercilessly. "wanna see you completely broken for me."

his words left a lingering pulse in your heat, giving way to kazutora's begging and allowing him to fuck you the way that he wanted. at your compliance the man cursed to himself, burying his head in the crook of your neck. you cried out when you felt his teeth sinking into the skin connecting your collarbone to your shoulder, sucking on the area until there was a purple mark flourishing on the surface.

if he wanted you broken, he certainly was accomplishing his mission. you could barely breathe with the way he was fucking you, your stomach clenching and cunt pulsing as you felt your orgasm coming strong.

"fuck, i wanna come inside you. let me come inside you baby?" the man asked, hand grabbing the underside of your leg and holding it upright as it started to slip. when you wordlessly nodded your head, kazutora let out a deafening groan. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-"

you barely had a second to register his gratitude before your eyes were shooting open, wide and blurry as kazu forced himself as far as he could go inside of you. the warmth that followed was enough for your body to shudder, orgasm washing over you as you only saw a white cover of bliss envelope your vision.

kazutora didn't even bother pulling out as he finally released your leg, legging your body go completely limp against the sheets. your breathing was labored and heavy, barely able to speak as you turned your head to look at the man behind you.

"do you feel bet-" you didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence as you saw kazutora with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. you couldn't stop the scoff that escaped you, a loving smile adorning your face before you laid back down and covered your exposed body with the duvet.

you were so grateful that you never accepted that bet from baji.

dont plagarize! it's not nice <3

[col0rlord]

Pool table 🎱

Jake Seresin x reader!

Summary: You like playing pool? Someone you know does too. This challenge might be a win, win for you either way you play.

~🎱🍒🍺🐆~

It was a typical Thursday at the Hard Deck around 7:30ish. Maybe a little later. You placed the pool balls in the rack, with the 8 ball right in the middle. A little warm up before the crowd came shuffling in.

There were a few older men sitting at the bar nursing their drinks. Too busy talking to one another before it was too loud to even hear the balls clinking off each other. They seemed like they were catching up and talking about the latest news in their life.

Regulars you have seen before.

Never got their names, but they know yours from Penny yelling it across the bar for you to retrieve the drink you get every time. A blue moon glass bottle.

Taking the rack away from the balls and hitting the first shot straight to the middle watching as the balls landed in their placement like popping open confetti on January 1st when the clock hit midnight. Feeling the heat from the heater roll of your neck after taking your hair and putting it in a ponytail.

Not playing anyone just practicing the hits and warming up when someone does come up and ask to play.

Warming up the little tricks you had. Put on a show for the people. They liked it. Sitting on the table and shooting from behind your back was the crowd favorite. Skipping the ball over the other and getting it in was a good one too. When you put the two together there was always someone coming up to you asking how you did that in the first place.

Slowly the bar became more alive and you weren't even halfway done with your drink yet. Downing the rest before people came over to watch you and some random play for money or anything really.

Walking to the bar to get a refill Penny looked you up and down as she was wiping a glass with a white rag she then flipped on her shoulder to rest for later use. “Y/n, those moves are going to get you in trouble one of these days.” She said as she grabbed my glass bottle, throwing it away and opening another one for me.

Shrugging at the idea of a man throwing a fit over losing to you in a game of 8 ball. “Maybe we will make the big bucks tonight. People love to see me as they try and win. I’m just too good at this shit. Nights like this seem to be busier anyways, so I came tonight instead of tomorrow night,” You told her as she placed the drink in front of you winking as you grinning knowing you are right.

“Watch out Y/n. We got some Aviators walking in soon. Might have a bit of a challenge up for you there.” She spoke out as you were walking away back to the table to finish what was going on, on the spread of balls.

Later on, around 8:30 now, you had some guy walking up to you wanting to play. This poor guy came in almost every night trying to win against you. You even went a little easy on him a few times. Trying to offer help but he always turned it down saying he ‘Could win against you without a female's help.’

We moved past that as I kept winning, he never said anything else about it after those first 4 times of me winning.

“That's game Logan.” you said bent the table over looking at him through your lashes as you hit the 8 ball into the far right pocket all the way from the other corner. Smirking as you watch it roll into the pocket. Looking back at the older ladies smoking a cigarette as they all high-fived me. Taking a swig of my beer. Feeling the condensation roll down my hands and between my fingers.

He rolled his eyes and placed the pool cue on the end of the table and walked off. The cue rolled over the edge and onto the ground with a loud clanking sound, as it tottered from the tip to the end about 3 times. The noise ended abruptly. Whipping your head around fast to watch who stopped it. You see this tall man in an Aviator uniform. Brown hair and green eyes. Face was sharp and square. Tan, buff. easy to look at. I could go on and on

“Y/n Y/l/n. heard of the name but never met in person. Saw your picture on the wall back there. I’m Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Pleasure is mine.’” Reaching his hand out for me to take it after he moved the toothpick in his mouth. Looking at you with a wink and a smirk plastered on his face. You placed your hand in his. You both shook as a greeting.

“Lieutenant?” you asked him up and down taking in the uniform and how it fitted him. Then moved your head to the side to look at the other uniformed people behind him. One wore glasses. One with his arms crossed and a shaved head, and a lady with a slick back bun.

He chuckled and looked to the right of him at the table. Then right back at you letting go of my hand walking around the table. “Want to go a round or two?” He asked, walking to the table and placing the balls back in the rack. Moving the rack around staring right in your eyes.

“Are we playing for anything or are you just testing the waters first?” You asked, walking back to the table you placed your cue to lean against the table and grabbing the blue chalk. The ego needed to be checked on this one and you were the one that was sweating to do so. Leaning it back against the pool table to spread your hands out to lean over and watch his moves at the other end.

He chuckled again pulling out his wallet. You raised an eyebrow watching his moves and he walked over to the table right next to him. “Oh Y/l/n. how I was praying you would be here tonight. Just! So I could get this opportunity to play against you. 200.” He said bending his knees and squeezing his eyes shut at the word ‘just’ pulling out four 50 dollar bills and placing them down with a hard smack.

“But for me. All I am asking for is one date.” He said walking back to the other side of the table.

You looked up from the green fabric table and up at him, smirking. Tapping your foot as you thought about it. He wasn't ugly. Like you said, easy to look at. You rolled your lips together and walked over to him placing a hand on his shoulder and leaned closely into his ear so he could feel your breath on his neck. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“You’re on Lieutenant Seresin” You whispered into his neck. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as he swallowed hard. Then stepped back as he got ready to take his shot right down the middle.

[nikittytrait]

30 shuffle sims | CAS challenge

I saw @chaoticsimlish Chaos CAS Shuffle challenge and i really liked it. but instead of 5 songs to do 1 sim i wanted to shuffle my playlist and make a sim inspired by only one song. But doing it for 30 days, so 30 songs and 30 sims.

rules:

Take a playlist of your choosing oryour liked songs on your favorite music platform (i will be using Spotify) and shuffle it!

Use that song to make a sim based on the lyrics, vibes,the cover, even on the music video (if it has)

If you decide to post your sims, please tag me or use the tag #30shufflesims i would love to see your sims :))

[tanthamoretober]

Hello questies, writers and friendos. We’ve got a month of 30 little writing challenges you can play with through November - and a few reading ones as well.

These are super chill. You can do these through the month in any order you like, and you can interpret them all in any way you like. This is not about writing complete works - the aim is to do a little writing or reading or fandom interaction every day, and play with a few different scenarios to stretch some creative muscles.

If you want to make your own November calendar graphic to keep track of your progress, Canva has a bunch of free, editable and printable templates!

Have at it!

Write 1000 words in a day

Write 500 words in a day

Write 250 words in a day

Write 100 words in a day

Write 50 words in a day

Take a break today and don’t worry about productivity, make yourself a treat

Add 100 words to an older WIP (whatever ‘older’ means to you)

Add a paragraph to a WIP

Add a sentence to a WIP

Edit a page of your WIP

Re-read something you've written (bonus: share what you like about your work on tumblr/discord)

Re-read a favourite fic (bonus: notice something you enjoy about it and let the author know, or leave a ‘second kudos’ to show you’re re-reading) 

Catch up on a fic, or a chapter of something you’ve been meaning to catch up on (no matter how old)

Leave a nice comment on a fic (no matter how old)

Post something on AO3

Write something in a new place (take yourself to a park, a library, on a train, sitting on the bench with your feet in the sink, just mix it up!)

Write using different tools (try writing with pen and paper, or on a phone, or on a keyboard - just take a break from your usual medium)

Hit shuffle on your music and let the first song set the vibe

Write a snippet based on ONE of the following prompts: The knots were tight / Faster and faster and faster / The ache was only getting worse 

Write a snippet based on ONE of the following prompts: The rain was wet / The sun was blistering / The frost strangled everything 

Write a meet-cute (possibilities: at a comic convention, over a bee-sting, snowed in together, a bloody nose in a mosh pit, flirting in a coffee shop)

Write a deleted scene (from canon, from your own fic, or maybe even from a friend’s fic)

Re-write a scene from a different POV (from canon, from your own fic, or maybe even from a friend’s fic)

Focus on something you love best about Tanthamore

Write 200 words of dialogue

Write 200 words of prose

Write 200 words of anything your heart desires

Write in a different tense than your usual

You’ve been doing so well - have another break and let yourself lie fallow for a day

Meets it beats it: hit your previous days goal again or beat it (you can absolutely use this as an extra rest day)

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 10

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Panic/Anxiety Attack. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f). Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6k

Series List: Here!

Miss Track 9? Here!

Hi!!!! Once again I want to apologize for taking so long with this. I can't seem to ever stay awake to do anything. That being said, here it is! This is the last main chapter of our little lovebirds. There will be at least one, likely two bonus tracks coming soon though :) Also there's a smidge of Spanish in here from Pedro, but the translation is included in the end of the sentence. I took some Spanish classes back in the day but I don't speak it and had to use Google translate. So if it ISN'T right and you do speak Spanish, please let me know lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these little cuties on their first date. There's a lot, a lot, a lot of kissing in here (sorry...) and overall they're just grossly in love lol. Please let me know what you think, and if you've seriously read this far, I LOVE YOU! This is my first series, and honestly my first fic other than the one I wrote in my diary lmao. Like the reader, I am incredibly inexperienced so writing a relationship has been a bit of a challenge and half the time I don't believe the actual words I'm writing. But I really only started writing it as a way to write down my daydreams :) So to have support means the world to me, and hearing people comment/DM me saying how much they relate has meant so much and makes me feel a lot less alone, because ultimately, it doesn't matter how fictional it is, most of reader's feelings are my own. To anyone else in the same boat, I get you! Hang in there. I think there's a Pedro out there for us all. Someday. Anywho, pardon my ramble. Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. ❤

The next morning, you woke up and stretched your limbs, rolling over in your comfortable bed as the sunshine poured in through the window. At the shuffling of your body, Skipper groaned, wiggling a little in bed, nearly shoving you off the edge. You reached for your phone, blinking through your sleep a couple times before seeing a text from Pedro. “Good morning beautiful! I can't wait for our date today. I was thinking maybe we could start around 2:30 and spend the day together, if you'd like. But if that's too much, we can just make it a dinner date. Up to you which you would prefer. I understand either way. Love you ❤️”

He wants to spend the whole day with me!? And he sent me a good morning text and called me beautiful? Then signed it with a heart and love you?!!!! How did I get this man?

Your grin eclipsed your face, making you squint. If Mr. Grumpybutt weren't sharing the bed with you, you'd probably squeal and kick your feet. Tapping your phone screen, you typed out a reply. “Morning handsome ❤️ I would love nothing more than to spend the day with you. I love you too!” You sent the message before crawling out of bed gently, receiving a dirty look from Skip. 

“Alright Grump. Go back to bed. Geez,” you laughed. If looks could kill, you thought. He turned back on his side, letting out a grumble and sigh, resulting in a laugh from you. Acts like he pays rent and works 40 hours a week…

You took a relaxing shower, making sure to be all nice and fresh for your date with the man of your dreams. While brushing your teeth, you noticed he had replied. “Great, I can't wait. I'll be at your place at 2:30. :)”

“Can't wait to see you. What do you have planned? I'm wondering how to dress.”

“Wear whatever you feel good in, baby. I'm sure you'll look amazing. Probably something casual you can walk around comfortably in for the day. Maybe something a little dressier for the evening, but you don't need to carry it around. We will make a stop at your place before and you can change”

Wow he really has this planned out.

“What have you got planned, P? This sounds elaborate. You know you don't need to put in all that effort, I'm already yours ❤️”

“You deserve the world, my love.”

Dressed in a pair of leggings and a light sweater, you felt reasonably cute while still being comfortable for whatever activity Pedro had in mind. Plus, with the crisp November air, you would be nice and warm. You were just finishing tying your sneakers when your doorbell rang. 

You opened the door to find your handsome boyfriend standing on your step, a bouquet of red roses in his hand. “Mi amor,” he handed you the roses, kissing your cheek and hand. “Thank you Pedro,” your cheeks heated. “Come in,” you pulled his hand across the doorway towards the living room. Skipper pushed past you to investigate, causing Pedro to drop your hand.

“Well there he is! That handsome boy!” Skipper’s tail wagged and his butt wiggled as Pedro crouched to give ear scratches. “Oh, I love you too,” Pedro answered when Skip kissed his face frantically. A fit of giggles erupted from Pedro, making your heart swell with joy. He has the cutest laugh, and the fact that your dog is causing it was surreal. 

“You're just a beautiful boy! Aren't you?! Hermoso, igual que tu mamá,” he held Skipper’s face, kissing his nose. (Beautiful, just like your mama)

Your chest was filled with butterflies. Holy shit, he's charming. “Thank you, Pedro,” you said in a whisper, not even sure if he would hear. Turning his head from your dog, Pedro looked up at you, giving you a gentle smile; but the eye contact was quickly torn away when Skipper pressed a needy paw to Pedro's chest. Both of you now giggling, Pedro continued to pet Skipper, stopping to give him a hug and some more nose kisses.

“Alright. I gotta ask…” you prompted, causing Pedro to turn his head towards you again. “Are you just dating me to hang out with my dog?” You smirked.

Pedro turned back to Skipper, speaking in a low voice. “She's catching on to us buddy. We've been made.” You burst out laughing, Skipper looking over at you as if his plan really had been foiled.

Pedro gave a final pat on Skipper’s head before standing and walking over to you. “Nonsense,” he pecked a kiss to your lips. “I do love that sweet boy of yours,” he replied before turning his face to whisper in your ear. “But I'm absolutely enamored with you, Mamacita.” The hair on your neck stood as a chill rushed down your spine. You bit your lower lip, and he stared back into your eyes, leaning in for a passionate kiss. 

“You look beautiful,” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You look rather handsome, yourself,” you replied. His hair was brushed back and to the side, his curls neatly swept and threatening to break free around his face. You wondered whether he asked for help to make his hair look extra nice for your date or if he styled it himself.

Running your fingertips over his patched salt and pepper beard, your hands found the small heart shaped patches near his chin. You brushed your thumb over his jaw before leaning in to press a kiss on the bare skin, causing his eyes to close as he let out a sigh. The whiskers tickled your cheeks as you continued kissing up his jawline, back across his cheek, and on his nose before pulling away to look into his eyes.

He opted to not wear glasses today, allowing you a closer look into his deep brown eyes which were softening under your gaze. “You ready to go, baby?” He asked you, his hand on your hip as he rubbed circles with his thumb.

“Absolutely,” you smiled. He wore a pair of dark jeans, tennis shoes, and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearm. He looked absolutely… incredible.

While you were grabbing your bag, he grabbed Skipper's leash. “Is Skipper coming too?” You asked, confused.

Skipper was twirling now, impatient to go somewhere.

“Sure is! Couldn't leave him out. But don't worry, you and I will have the night to ourselves,” he winked.

You looked downward, feeling shy and flushed. “Okay,” you giggled, clipping Skip to his leash and heading for the door.

“Do you want to take my car? You'll get dog hair and slobber in yours,” you offer.

“I don't mind! I love dogs,” Pedro replied, opening the door for Skipper to climb in the back seat. After closing the door, he opened the passenger door for you. Such a gentleman, you thought with a sigh, getting in and thanking him. 

As the car sped along, you looked over at your boyfriend driving the car. Boyfriend! That'll never get old… you thought to yourself. The air conditioning blew the few loose strands of hair on the top of his head, and his left hand gripped the wheel, making the veins on his hand prominent. With his right hand, he reached over, holding your left in his, resting on top of your thigh. 

He really did look beautiful. You couldn't help but stare at him as he expertly drove the car, hand flexing as he turned the wheel. His mouth pursed and he licked his lips, his tongue slowly jutting out to wet them. 

Damn, I want those lips on mine. That tongue in my mouth, you thought, feeling rather warm, despite the air conditioning swirling around the car.

“So where are we spending the day?” You asked, trying to quiet the flames of attraction licking at your pulse.

“It's a surprise! But we're almost there,” he answered, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand.

Pedro looked in the side mirror and laughed. “Babe, look at Skipper.”

You looked to see him with his head out the window, ears and lips blown back with the wind, his tongue lolled out to the side and blowing with the speed of the vehicle.

You both chuckled before you warned him, “your car is going to be covered in slobbers, Pedro!” He gave another quick look to Skipper before replying. “That's okay. It'll help me remember this day until I wash it again,” he looked over at you and smiled. It felt so natural. So… domestic, the two of you sitting in the car, going on a date, him holding your hand while driving, and the two of you laughing at your dog in the back seat. It was just perfect. Everything you dreamed.

He wasn't joking when he said you were almost there. It was only about five more minutes until the car pulled into the parking lot of the dog-friendly beach. 

Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar smell of salty sea air and hearing the chatter of gulls. The breeze blew your hair gently, but the day was relatively warm for November.

After the three of you exited the car, Pedro opened the trunk, pulling out a large picnic basket and tote bag. “You really came prepared, didn't you? Pedro, this is really special. Thank you.” Your eyes felt teary and the smile you held was genuine. Nobody has ever put this much effort into anything for you. Other than him.

“You don't need to thank me. I want you to be happy and I want the three of us to have a nice day,” he added, pecking your lips.

“Wait.. Pedro,” you frowned. “It looks kind of crowded. Should I be nervous about paparazzi or anything?” Your stomach bubbled with nervous energy.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. Celebs come here all the time. I've come here before. If they do, they might take pictures, but usually it's pretty low-key here. Try not to worry too much. I want you to have a nice time,” he squeezed your hand affectionately.

“Okay. I trust you,” you smiled at him as the three of you walked towards the sand, finding a nice place to picnic. Pedro unpacked, laying down a large blanket before setting up the spread of sandwiches, veggies, and fruit. He offered you a cold drink from the basket and the two of you sat, using a metal stake to secure Skipper’s leash near your blanket. He flopped onto his side, content to be sunbathing with some of his favorite people.

The lunch consisted of peaceful conversations and laughter, learning more about each other despite having talked for several months now. It seemed you could never run out of conversation topics. But even in the quiet moments, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt relaxing. You were both content being able to sit together in silence and just enjoy each other's company.

After your meal, you packed up the basket and headed for the car again to put the things away, opting for a walk unburdened by carrying items across the sand. Neither of you brought a swimsuit today, but despite the California sun, it was still November, and the Pacific ocean was never really warm, even in the middle of summer. That didn't seem to bother Skipper very much though. As the two of you walked hand in hand near the water, barefoot in the wet sand, he ran laps around Pedro holding him on the leash, occasionally splashing through the shallow water before joining close by his family again.

He would definitely need a bath later, but you didn't mind. He was happy splashing around, having a great day. You were happy walking with the man of your dreams, fingers intertwined together. Everything felt right. You weren't even nervous, despite the way Pedro looked like the most handsome man you've ever seen, or the fact that he was famous, and that you occasionally received stares from other beach goers. Instead of the usual first-date nerves people get, you just felt love.

“So,” he started excitedly, “Obviously I have most of this date planned, but I also wanted to check in with you and see if you had anything particular in mind that you wanted to do together.”

You thought for a second, letting a memory burn into your thoughts. “Well,” you began, "I don't want to sound like a total creepy fan or anything...” you added, cautiously. You kinda were, with all the photos of him you had saved on your phone (prior to deleting them before your first meeting in person). But that's not important right now, and he probably doesn't need to know that. Maybe it can be a funny story later.

Pedro laughed, that cute little wheezy laugh he does with his giant smile that makes your stomach do somersaults. Those same somersaults you've been getting since you first saw that smile on the screen and knew you were absolutely screwed until you got over this crush. Or, unexpectedly, when you walked hand-in-hand with him, like you were now.

“But…?” he pondered, looking down at you sideways, with a playful smirk and those big brown eyes that could make you lose your mind. They absolutely glittered in the sunlight right now, reflecting all the joy and love he felt for you.

“Okay maybe I'm a little creepy…” you nudged him with your side, still gripping his hand in yours as the two of you walked peacefully. The beach was crowded, but you and him, and Skipper, were the only ones here as far as either of you were concerned. There could be a loud scream and it wouldn't compare to the squealing in your mind. A firework show would simply feel like a projection of your sparks. A tornado couldn't sweep you off your feet as well as he could. 

“Is this where you tell me you've been watching me sleep through my window for the past three years or something?” He raised an eyebrow, playful smile still on his face as he licked his lips.

“What?” You squeaked, laughing. “No. I mean… I did have some pictures saved of you, and have maybe read a fictional story or two about you and your characters…” or a few thousand, you thought.

You cringed. Why the fuck did I say that out loud?!

Your cheeks felt hot and you diverted your eyes away from the man beside you, a nervous grimace painted across your mouth. He barked out a laugh, pulling you into his side for a hug. “Baby, you're cute. I don't mind that you used to read those. I don't even mind if you still do. No different than a book, right? Maybe it'll give us some fun date ideas.” He rested his head on top of yours innocently.

Oh, if only he knew the things you read.

“Right. Fun date ideas,” you smirked to yourself. He pulled away to look at you, eyebrow raising playfully.

“Sweetheart,” he interrogated in the same tone you use when Skipper steals a sock from the laundry, “what kind of stories are you reading about me and my characters, huh?” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. You'd feel nervous from his tone if he didn't flash a smug, knowing grin at you.

“Oh, you know…” you shrugged. “Just the typical romance stuff,” you turned, facing him and resting your hand on his chest, tracing a circle over his heart with your finger. You felt his pulse pick up under your touch, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“What kind of thoughts are going through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, raising his brow while you continued tracing little hearts into his shirt with your index finger.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” You winked before removing your hand from his chest. Starting to walk away, you continued your earlier statement. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he interrupted, laughing. “Don't think you're getting out of this conversation that easy,” he gently pulled your forearm, stopping your movement and sending you twirling into his arms once again.

“Maybe someday I'll tell you,” you giggled, booping his nose. 

“Someday? Why not tell me now?” He ran his thumb over your lip, eyes drifting down quickly before returning to your eyes.

“I'll show you the fanfics I read about you when I know you're stuck with me and you aren't going to run for the hills,” you laughed nervously, only partially joking.

His playful demeanor vanished before your eyes, turning into a look of… concern? Oh no. This is it. Where he realizes what a mistake he made. Where he says he doesn't want to be together. Where he breaks my heart.

He gently held your arm, rubbing soft strokes. “Honey. What are you talking about?” His soft brown eyes searched your face. You gulped, not wanting to make eye contact, but he again pulled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I…” you floundered for the words. “I don't want to scare you away.”

“Why would I be scared away?” he asked in almost a whisper, concern and sadness lacing his features.

“Because I just had this huge, huge crush on you. So, I read fanfics and I saved all your photos and I watched all your movies. I spent more time on social media looking for updates on you. Just so I could see you, or imagine what being with you would feel like. Like a total crazy person. An absolute psycho creeper.”

“Baby…” he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You aren't any of those things. I actually think that’s kind of sweet. Although, it makes me a little sad thinking about the pain you must have felt, having these strong feelings and not having found each other yet.” He brushed your hair out of your face, settling his other hand on your waist before continuing.

“Feelings make us feel a little crazy sometimes, and although I never read fanfiction about you, or had any pictures to save, I would be lying if I said I didn't take a screenshot of us that first night you showed me your face.” He rubbed his neck bashfully.

Fanfic about me? What? If that even exists, I gotta see what people are saying…

“You did?” His admission surprised you, to say the least. He sighed before answering. “Yes. I had - have,” he corrected himself, “a pretty big crush on you too, baby. But I felt like I was betraying you in a way, taking a picture of you during our video chat. I just wanted to remember your face if I never saw it again,” he sighed.

“I fell in love with you the first time I heard your song... I heard you sing about your feelings and daydreams. So… you admitting about fanfiction and pictures isn't all that surprising.” You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He stroked your cheek. You looked up and he continued. “I took that picture because I had already fallen so head-over-heels for you that the first time I saw your face, I stopped breathing. Although I knew I wouldn't be able to get the image of you out of my mind, I couldn't risk forgetting the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.”

You dropped your gaze again, cheeks feeling a permanent state of warmth and butterflies dancing from your stomach to your chest. “You don't honestly mean that, Pedro.” You sighed. “I appreciate it, but there's no way. I really don't know what you could ever see in someone like me,” you whispered, barely audible. If you weren't standing so close, he would've missed it.

Instead of responding, he dropped his arms from your body. At the loss of contact, your heart sank. But when you lifted your head to meet his eyes, he was fishing around his pocket for his phone. Calling an Uber to leave? Your self-doubt pestered.

A few taps to his screen later and he held up his phone. There you were, sitting at your table in your favorite dress, with your favorite food and flowers on the table. You had the biggest smile on your face and in the bottom corner, you could see Pedro looking handsome as always, and absolutely smitten with you, the largest grin painted across his features.

At the sight of the image, your heart warmed. “See what you mean to me?” He asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you choked out, leaning forward to mold your lips to his. They fit together perfectly. Like they were made for each other. He pressed back before opening his mouth ever so slightly to lick at your lips. Matching his movements, your tongues met, dancing a waltz in exploration as he pulled you forward by your lower back, seeming as if trying to get as close as possible somehow.

As the two of you paused for air, he ran his hand further down your back, just barely grazing the dip of your spine where your torso meets your butt. He gave you a look, almost to determine your reaction, asking permission to let his hand continue. When you didn't back away, going as far as pulling him closer around his neck and leaning in for another kiss, he pressed his lips against yours in return and let his hands wander a little further down. When his hand wrapped around the cheek of your ass, you squeaked. This is new… and I like it, you thought. His whole hand fit across your cheek. His huge hands. You whimpered as he gave a squeeze, like he was claiming you as his own.

“I love you too.” He finally responded, pulling out of the kiss to search your eyes. “So tell me… what was this activity you wanted to add to our date? The one you fear makes you sound like a creepy fan?” He let out a small laugh, brushing your nose with his.

“This,” you replied, pressing another kiss.

“Kissing?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over your waist and resting his forehead to yours. “I think we've already been doing that, if I'm not mistaken.” He pecked your lips with his.

“Yes,” you kissed. “Well,” kiss. “Actually,” you pulled away enough to explain. “I read this interview you gave a few years ago about your ideal first date?”

“Yeah?”

“You said something about ‘a date that doesn't feel like a date. And

hopefully by the end, or throughout, very

good kissing.” You said, slightly cautious at your memorization, a bit nervous at the implication of what you're saying.

“Oh, is that what you want?” He flashed his eyes up to look at you, giving a devilish smirk. 

“Well, as someone who hadn't been kissed yet when I read it, I sorta lost my mind over it,” you laughed. “Obviously we've kissed before, but if it were up to me your lips would never leave mine,” you pressed your lips to his again.

“I think we should be able to make that happen,” he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before pulling you in for another kiss. “Mmmm” you sighed, pulling away from his lips. “Never gets old.” You held his hand in yours, the two of you walking again down the beach.

“So I was thinking,” he began, “since you said you deleted all your photos, and I only have the one, maybe we could make some new photos… together,” the corner of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile. You grinned and nodded excitedly. “Please!”

Pulling out his phone, the two of you took several photos together. Some just smiling, some with Skipper, and your personal favorites, the ones with him kissing you. This will make for a perfect lockscreen, you imagined.

As you approached the edge of a rocky cliffside at the end of the beach, a sea lion barked in the distance. Skipper perked up, tilting his head and letting his ears twitch before returning a “boof.” The two of you laughed, ushering your dog away from making any wild ocean friends, and headed towards the boardwalk.

After grabbing an ice cream at a candy shop, you were so deep in conversation and laughter that you didn't notice the girl off to the side looking nervous. Slowly she walked over. Skipper put up his guard, but as she approached, she gave a kind wave. “Hi… I'm sorry to bother you. I'm a big fan of you both.”

“Us… both?!” You responded, surprised. Pedro shook his head with a laugh before thanking the fan.

“Of course! Your music is amazing! I listen to it on my way home from work everyday. I relate to so many of your songs.”

“Wow, thank you so much. I never expected to be recognized. You're so kind,” you replied honestly.

She asked for a photo with you both, and after obliging, she mentioned before leaving, “by the way, I was following all the news that went down. I just want to say I think it's cute how you guys got together and you make a really cute couple. Okay bye! Thank you again!!” And with that, she scurried away, leaving you to look at Pedro in surprise. “Wow” you replied with a laugh. “I can't believe I'm getting recognized,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you feel about it?” Pedro asked cautiously.

“I feel… okay, so far. This was a nice interaction, and even though people keep looking at us… being able to be out in public with you, to show my face, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand,” you gave his hand a squeeze, “it makes it all worth it.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he looked into your eyes, giving a soft smile. You matched his expression before his face slowly faded into concern. “Do you think work will go okay for you? Now that it's out there?”

You took a deep breath, walking a few more steps with him down the boardwalk before replying. “I don't know. I guess so. Or… I hope so at least. I've had a few of my friends and coworkers message me kind words of encouragement. So at least I'll have some people on my side, even if anyone else has something to say. But really, they shouldn't. They already know me. They knew I liked you,” you leaned into him. “So they should be happy for me if anything. And if not, then… well, they didn't deserve to be my friend anyway,” you shrugged. “But I think I might take some time off to figure out everything, career wise,” you added. Still leaning into his side, Pedro unlatched his fingers from yours, opting to reach his arm around you, giving your shoulder a squeeze and rubbing soft circles into your upper arm.

“Baby,” Pedro began, his voice vibrating through your body as he leaned his head on yours, “I’m so proud of you. Have I told you how strong I think you are?” Your cheeks warmed and you grinned. “Thank you Pedro,” you wrapped your arms around his waist to hug him. “But I don't think I'm that strong. I struggle to open pickle jars just like the rest of us,” you joked.

Pedro gave a quiet snort. “You know what I mean, honey,” he laughed. “I don't mean physical strength. Though I'm sure you could hold your own in an arm wrestle, I mean your ability to handle all of this thrown at you so quickly. Your ability to adapt and stay cheerful about everything. You just keep continuing to amaze me,” he pulled his head away from yours to meet your gaze. He smiled softly and you thanked him.

“I don't feel very strong,” you mumbled, breaking away from his stare. “You are, though. You're strong, smart, beautiful. Talented. Passionate,” he kissed your lips.

“Pedro, I love you, but you always seem to use all these words I don't feel. You see me as someone completely different than the way I've always seen myself. I want to believe you, but-” you sighed. “No one else has ever shown any indication that those are true,” you pouted, trying not to tear up.

“Hey, hey, whoa. Stop,” he halted your movements, pulling your chin up to his face. “Maybe they didn't see you, but I do. I feel all those things about you, and I'll spend every single day trying to prove it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved in romance a long time ago. But you changed all that.”

His chocolate brown eyes felt like they looked directly into your soul as he attempted to unravel your self-doubt. With a deep breath, you calmed enough to reply. “I love you, and I feel all those things for you as well. I'm glad you opened yourself up to love again.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'm glad I met you” you sucked his lip. “I'm glad you're mine.” You kissed him again, deepening it, letting your tongue press gently to his and tangling together in passion before pulling away. 

Skipper had completely rolled into his side in wait for you both, between the conversation and the kissing. When the two of you broke away with matching grins, you looked over to see the sun had sunk down to the border between sky and ocean. In its wake was a bright orange sky, with pink, purple, and yellow streaks mixed in, as if a painter had gotten a bit too carried away with the paints. It was blindingly beautiful. 

Drawn to it like moths, the three of you walked towards the shoreline once again. You started to sit, but Pedro pulled you into his chest and fished for his phone. 

You gave him a confused look before he kissed you deeply and held out his arm. Unlatching his lips from yours with a pop, he held up his phone to you with a smile. In front of the vibrant ocean sunset, the silhouette of a couple shared a loving kiss. For once, it was you in this couple photo. You and the man you love.

You walked a little farther down the sand before sitting down just above the line of wet sand to admire the sunset. Pedro sat behind you, his legs on either side of you while you lay back into his chest. As you leaned into him, he hugged around your body, molding himself to you and tracing light circles into the skin on your arms, making the hairs stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine. 

Skipper flopped down nearby, clearly sleepy after a long walk and plenty of new smells. You ran a gentle hand down his back until you heard soft snores, then let him sleep, leaning your head on Pedro’s arm around your shoulder. “This sunset is beautiful,” you sighed, watching as the sun descended further below the ocean. It looked as if it was sinking deep below the surface, offering its light to the deep sea anglerfish miles below.

“It is amazing,” Pedro agreed, staring at you. “But my view is even better,” he added, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he kissed your shoulder. You looked over at him, meeting his eyes, now sparkling with the orange of the sky. “Mine too,” you whispered, tilting your head to press another kiss to his lips.

When the sun went down completely, you headed to the car and Pedro drove back to your place so you could get ready for dinner. 

Pedro sat on the couch patiently, stroking the fur on Skip’s back while he snoozed, his head in Pedro's lap. In your bedroom, you searched for the perfect outfit to wear, finally deciding on a nice dress and sweater.

Hopefully the restaurant isn't too cold, you thought.

Walking out of the bedroom, you joined your boys in the living room, only to be greeted by Pedro’s jaw hitting the floor. “Te ves tan hermosa mi amor,” he stuttered in Spanish, flipping languages so easily when he was overcome with emotion. (You look so gorgeous my love.)

He gently stood, sliding out from below your dog, before walking over to you. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe and back up again, making you feel nervous. “You… you look… wow.” He rubbed his hand over his chin, his thumb grazing his lip. His pupils grew, making his eyes ever-so-slightly darker. You shivered under his gaze.

At your shiver, his demeanor shifted. “Shit, are you cold? Baby, you look incredible, but if you're cold -” 

“I'm not cold, Pedro,” you interrupted.

“Are you sure? I saw you shiver.” He stepped towards you, touching your arm. A buzz crept under your skin like a live wire. “It wasn't from the cold…” you replied.

“It wasn't from-?” He paused, the realization hitting him as he understood your shiver wasn't from cold but frankly.. the opposite. “Oh,” he hummed, settling his hand on your hip and stepping closer.

Another chill.

“Feeling excited for our date, huh?” His voice caressed into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to take gentle nibbles on the skin of your collarbone, neck, and chin, before pulling you in by your waist to press a deep kiss to your mouth, his tongue finding yours. 

This was starting to feel natural, kissing. And you two were getting good at it together. Knowing just the way his tongue moved, finding just the spot to make you whine. You even managed to find a spot of him that made a groan slip from his lips nearly every time. Kissing him was addicting, and you had no intention of kicking the habit.

He pulled away, pulling your lip with his teeth as you let out a slight hiss. “I'd love to do this all night, but I promised you dinner, my love,” he kissed your cheek, his beard scratching your face just right. You sighed, agreeing to dinner and taking a minute step back. It felt much warmer in the room than before, and you could tell he felt the same. As your eyes drifted across his body, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Slowly sweeping his eyes down his body, it was evident you both wanted something beyond dinner.

But the gentleman he is, Pedro stepped forward again, taking your hand and leading you toward the door. 

Pulling up to the curb, Pedro opened your door for you before handing his keys to the valet. Linking his arm with yours, the two of you walked into an elegant Italian restaurant. He gave the waitress his name, and she led you back to a secluded room where a single booth sat.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by candles and twinkling fairy lights. They lined the ceiling, mimicking the starry sky, were it not for the smog of the city. You two walked toward the only booth, settled against the nook of a window, draped with a soft, thin white curtain covering the view from outside. Only the reflection of street lights peered through the thin drapery.

Sliding into the booth, Pedro sat next to you, close enough to touch, yet due to the curve of the corner booth, you were able to converse without craning your neck awkwardly. At the center of the table was a single red rose in a vase, sat next to the glow of a candle. The table itself was rounded and draped with an elegant dark red tablecloth.

Grabbing the triangular folded napkin off your plate, you folded it across your lap, Pedro doing the same. He reached over to you, taking your hand in his. He rolled his hand over the top of yours, linking his fingers between your own and giving a gentle squeeze while offering a soft smile. 

You looked into his eyes, searching for the words he might be thinking. In his eyes you only found love and appreciation, pure happiness oozing from his features. When the waitress came back, she set a basket of bread with butter on the table and took your orders. 

The night went smoothly, chatter filling the empty spaces while you enjoyed your meals. “Pedro, I know this is technically our first date, but I gotta say, I think I consider our video chat for my album as the first date. It was the first time I felt like I might actually have a shot with you. You put so much effort into that night and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I didn't know I could fall for you any harder than I was, but you proved me wrong. And even though we didn't say it was a date, and I didn't have much experience before you, it felt more like a date than anything I had ever felt before. You're a real romantic, P.” 

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “That felt like the first date to me too. I knew for sure that I loved you that night.” Your cheeks heated, and you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

It was only when the bill arrived that you broke apart. Though you offered to pay, at least for your meal, Pedro wouldn't stand for that. After all, he told you, this date was his idea. So instead, you thanked him and left the restaurant the same way you entered, arms linked.

As Pedro pulled up outside of your home, you let out a sigh. It was already after 9 PM. You had spent nearly eight hours together and yet you dreaded the moment you'd be saying goodbye. It was almost that time already, yet it felt like only five minutes had passed.

Though the walk from Pedro’s car to your front door was rather short, you both managed to prolong it, walking as slow as possible. Clearly he wasn't ready for it to end either. Two love sick fools, just wanting to spend every moment together.

Teetering on the edge of goodbyes, you awkwardly stood by your door. There were no nerves at a first kiss, fortunately. There had been plenty of kisses shared today, and yesterday, and the day prior. In fact, if it weren't for breathing, eating, and other bodily functions, you'd be fine having your lips glued to his indefinitely.

So with that in mind, and the burning desire to spend more time together, as he said goodbye, placing a kiss to your lips and beginning to walk away, you grabbed his arm. “Wait,” you plead.

Pedro turned, looking at you as if you had something to say, or you had forgotten a sweater in the car. But instead, with your heart pounding in your ears, you quietly asked, “would you like to come in? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.”

The question could be taken with so many potential implications, or none at all. All you knew for sure was that you wanted to spend more time with him. What happened next could be decided in the moment.

His eyes flashed surprise for a moment. He looked at you, trying to read your face for any details in your question, then stared at your front door before turning back to you and finally answering.

“I would love to,” he smiled.

And so the two of you walked through the threshold of your front door, buzzing with new possibilities just inside. But no matter how the rest of the evening takes place, you were in love, and for once, you were loved back.

The end! Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the bonus tracks, and once again I'd love to hear what you think! Reblogs are appreciated as well :)

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibleywrites @faithfullyyours2000 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors @emmalostinwonderland

[forever-once-gone]

Day 4: Hoseok - Your cat, unfortunately, picks favourites </3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (what a joke lol)

Word count: 2.7k

Content and Warnings: soft? yandere au, gn! reader, Hobi dearest is an intruder, your cat loves you but loves Hoseok more, knives, threats, attempted murder (not to you), dark content, cleaning, too much cat talk, reader is mad like really mad, house break-ins, unsafe housing ig, I couldn't bare to make Hobi too evil in this even though I probably should have considering the context... but it's Hobi :(

Author's Note: Hi! Another one for you guys. You guys got this cause a few kind anons and @comingupwithacoolnameishard were nice enough to let me know that they would like me to continue posting this series. Which I'm so touched by. So this is dedicated to them! Thanks for being so kind dears! This is unedited as per the rules of this drabble series/challenge. Anyways, enjoy!

You would often hear the shuffling of your cat in the dead of night. The little guy would often run around your house with his heavy flops and little pitter-patter footfalls. It didn't wake you up when you first got him, when he was just a little kitten enjoying the various rooms and halls of your house. He was so small that you barely ever noticed him running around until he’d get bored of the emptiness (usually around 4:30 am, when the birds would begin to sing) and make his way back to your room to scream up at you from the floor, asking to be let back up into the comforts of the bed with you. Then he would purr right into your neck contently until he’d wake up with you at 7:30.

But with his growing age, he had become larger and more disruptive in the night. And more mischievous as well. In the dead of night, since the past 8-9 months or so, you’d been hearing clacking of dishes, cabinets, and doors. Auguste knew he wasn’t allowed on the countertops from when he was just a little kitten, fresh from the shelter, and he was good at not opposing you when it came to his limitations. He wouldn’t climb into cabinets like other cats did and he didn’t show any attempts of trying to sneak his way in either. But it seemed when you were asleep in your room, his confidence would rise and he’d begin breaking all the rules. Maybe he was going through his teenage rebellion phase.

Nonetheless, you were often now roused from your sleep to the sound of Auguste going wild downstairs. You’d pause for a second, straining your ears to hear whether the little man had gotten himself hurt or stuck in the cabinets, but when the sounds of his heavy walking around would resume, you’d relax, turn, and fall back asleep. You knew he was fine, as every early, early morning he’d still finish his little rebellious session by appearing at the side of your bed, meowing for you to pick him up and pull him into bed with you. At this age, he was more than capable of getting on the bed himself, but you think he’d made it part of his routine to have you, specifically, pull him into bed. Even if in the day he’d happily jump up and down from your bed as he pleased.

Maybe you’d spoiled him too much when he was a baby.

Only on the nights that he wouldn’t make it back to your room by 4:30 would you begin to worry that he had gotten himself trapped in a cabinet or something of the like. You’d wait no more than fifteen minutes before getting out of bed and calling from your door out into the hall for Auguste quietly, only getting louder as the time went on. But every single time, he’d trot up the stairs, calling back to you with his me-ah noises. He’d finally run up to you when he’d see you standing by the door, arms down stretching, ready to scoop him up. He’d circle your legs for a turn or two before flopping into your hands, gleefully accepting the kiss you placed between his ears with a small mmerp.

You’d reprimand him jokingly. Asking him what devious crimes he’d been up to only for him to purr as you tucked him under the covers beside you. It was funny though, even though you joked about his “devious crimes” the house was never really out of order when you’d wake up after his active nights. Okay, maybe some things were shifted, out of place, the paper towel holder an inch to the left of where you kept it, the wash cloth haphazardly thrown onto the sliver between the two sides of the sink, but nothing disturbed. Nothing broken, nothing ruined. It was like even in his most mischievous of moods he could never be too bad.

It was another such night when Auguste trampled around the house, creating the ruckus that would cause you to stir. When you checked the time, you saw that it was nearly 4 am. You looked around you, but couldn’t find Auguste. He must be downstairs messing around.

But that’s when you noticed just how cold it had gotten overnight. Even while bundled up in your duvet, you were still shivering. Was it supposed to get this cold tonight? It was barely even close to winter, this is too much. Your poor little cuddlebug was probably freezing his paws off downstairs. If it was cold up here, it was probably freezing downstairs!

You managed to pull yourself out from the warmth of your bed thinking of your cat. You pulled a throw blanket that sat at the foot of your bed around your shoulders to try and protect your warmth. You tried to call for him, but just as you were about to, you heard a crashing sound from downstairs. 

You immediately startled, taking a step back before taking for the stairs, not even bothering to turn on the hallway light. You made it halfway down when you heard a noise coming from behind you. It grew louder and louder until it was right behind you. You just managed to jump to the side in the dark to barely make out Auguste sitting beside you on the step, his eyes practically the only part of his that you could see in the dark.

“Auguste?” The cat let out a meow in acknowledgement. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You scooped him up into your arms, under the blankets you had wrapped around yourself. He felt cold against you. Maybe it had gotten much too cold overnight. “Let’s go turn the heating on, hmm?”

Auguste only pulled his head out of the blanket in reply, looking out in front of the both of you, with only his head peeking out.

You hummed a little song as you made your way down the remaining steps. The thermostat was at the bottom of the stairs, right by the front door. With the moonlight streaming in from the window beside the door, you were able to locate the thermostat on the wall. You cranked the temperature up, and the furnace roared to life from below your feet.

“Let’s get back to bed, eh?” You pulled the blanket tighter around you with the arm not holding Auguste up. You pressed a kiss against his head, before turning back to the staircase. But when you turned to the stairs, you saw a faint yellowish light against the stairs that you hadn’t noticed before. Following the line of light, you saw the kitchen door cracked open, soft light making its way down the hall.

You must have left the light on earlier. Better turn it off before your electricity bill skyrockets. You pushed open the door and immediately froze.

There was a man.

A man.

In your kitchen.

Illuminated by the light from under the exhaust fan.

Wiping down the stove.

In your kitchen.

A man.

Auguste jumped from out of the blankets, landing with a thump on the ground before skittering over to the man. You wanted to grab him and run, but you couldn’t. You were frozen to your spot, watching your precious cat approach this stranger.

Auguste ran between the intruder’s legs, purring as he rubbed his face and body against his ankles. Between the various thoughts coursing through your head, you had one neuron notice that the man was wearing your guest slippers. Auguste bumped his head against the man’s leg, before meowing his grievances up at him.

The man just chuckled quietly, before whispering, “give me one second, Auguste. I’m almost done with the last of the cleaning.” He continued to wipe up the counters and stove for a few more seconds before finally rinsing the washcloth in the sink and putting it to the side to dry. In the same spot you always put it. By the window. Wait, why was the window open?

He washed his hands, drying his hands against his shirt before picking Auguste up. He pressed a kiss against his head, between his ears just as you do. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be running up to Y/n, hmm? Cuddling up to them? Making me all jealous?”

Auguste purred in his arms. You could see him moving Auguste around in his arms, bouncing him in his arms like a baby. “You should go up. Don’t want ‘em to come down and look for you, do you? What would we do if I was caught, hmm? Then I’d never be able to come and see the two of you?”

Auguste meowed up at him, pawing at the man’s face.

“You’re right. Maybe it’s time that I finally introduced myself to your parent. Then I could win them over and finally take both of you away with me.”

Auguste let out a disgruntled noise, before licking at the man’s cheek.

“Okay, okay,” the man relented. “I’ll move in instead, happy? Then all three of us can live happily ever together in this beautiful, clean house. Think you could cuddle up to me when I come over for the first time when they invite me over for the first time? If they think you just instantly loved me, then I might win them over even quicker!” The man laughed quietly. 

“You, me, and—” he turned around and locked eyes with you. “—Y/n.”

The two of you stared at each other. Both frozen in place as if your bones and flesh had turned into marble. Auguste looked between the two of you, seemingly confused. He began to fidget in the man’s arms, causing the man’s arms to tighten around him. Auguste let out a frustrated hiss before the man jumped, releasing him from his arms and finally pressing play on the two of you.

“Y/n, I can explain—” 

“Who the hell are you?” You demanded.

“I’m, um, I’m…” His hands balled into fists as he shifted from foot to foot. Almost like he wanted to run away.

“Your name,” you stressed, taking a step into the kitchen from the doorframe. “I’m asking for your name.”

His lips were pursed together. “I don’t, um… I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that…”

You raised your eyebrows, an incredulous scoff passing through you. “But you’re supposed to be in my house?”

The man could see your expression even though his shadow was covering you, but even if he couldn’t, your tone made it clear that you weren’t happy.

“I was… just cleaning.”

“Oh! Just cleaning? Oh that makes it so much better. Now I’m not concerned at all with this stranger standing in my kitchen!”

He winced. The man knew he’d said the wrong thing.

You moved to grab a knife from the knife block near you, pointing it at him with both hands. With your hands preoccupied, the blanket had fallen from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, just missing Auguste. “You have five seconds to tell me your name and why you’re here before I kill you.”

The man’s eyes widened, slowly raising his hands in alarm. Why is it that he was in your house uninvited, but he felt like the one who needed to call the cops? “Uh, come on, Y/n. We don’t have to go that far,” he tried.

Your eyes darkened, taking another step towards the man. “Don’t say my name. Don’t you fucking dare say my name.”

The man backed up until he was pressed against the counter, his hands coming back to steady himself. You continued closer to him, until you had the tip of the blade pressed against his adam's apple.

“Tell me your name before I slit your throat!” you screamed at him, eyes crazed.

“Fine! Fine, my name is Jung Hoseok. I met you once, at a bar.” Hoseok had turned his head slightly away from your knife, eyes screwed tight. Hands clenching tightly to the counter for dear life.

“Who the fuck cares how I met you? All I care about is that I have a name to give the police when they come to collect your body!” You pulled the knife back and straightened your aim for his jugular. But just before you could bring the knife down on his flesh, your cat began meowing like crazy at your feet. 

He was on his hind legs, his front paws clawing at both your legs as he cried, wheezing his little heart out at the both of you. You’d never seen Auguste so stressed. You’d always kept him so happy.

You took a step back from his sharp claws, pulling your calf up to try and soothe the marks Auguste had scraped onto you.

You watched as Hoseok, given the room to move around freely now, scooped Auguste right up into his arms, pressing hisses to Auguste’s upset face.

“Hey there,” he sweetly spoke to your cat. “Now, now, your parent isn’t hurting me. It’s okay. Shhh, shhhhhh, it’s okay. They are just a bit surprised, okay? They won’t hurt me. See, I’m not hurt.” He raised his chin to show Auguste his neck. “See, I’m a-okay.” You watched Auguste relax in Hoseok’s hold, moving to lick all over his face as if he was trying to heal him.

“Now why don’t you ask your parent, not to kill me, hmm?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you trying to use my cat to manipulate me?”

Hoseok just shook his head, Auguste still curled up in his arms purring. “No, just trying to get him to talk some sense into you.”

“You’re talking about a cat right now.” You brought the knife back up, pointing it at him as he took a step forward. Auguste immediately straightened up, hissing at you.

“Did–Did you just hiss at me?!” You asked your cat, only for him to swipe at you with his claws. Even though you were out of reach for him to scratch you, the damage had already been done. “You’re choosing the intruder over me?!”

Auguste hissed at you again.

Hoseok laughed sweetly, too sweetly for the fact that you had a knife aimed right at him while he had nothing to protect himself with. It only made your anger heighten. “Don’t you know, you’re talking to a cat right now?” he threw your words right back at you.

“Oh fuck off!” You moved to cut him with the knife, only for Auguste to hiss at you again, this time his claws actually landing on you, cutting open your forearm. “Auguste! What the hell?!” You dropped the knife, narrowly missing your foot as you stepped back in pain.

Hoseok gasped, pulling the cat back from you. “Auguste! You can’t do that to Y/n! No matter what they do to me, you don’t hit them!”

Auguste only made a smug sound as he stared at you from his place in Hoseok’s arms.

“What black magic did you do to him?! Why does he like you more than me? Why is he protecting you and not me!”

Hoseok immediately tried to reassure you. “Oh no, Y/n, you misunderstand! Our baby doesn’t pick favourites! He loves you just as much as he loves me. He only did that ‘cause you had a knife! Now that you put it down and he knows you won’t hurt me, he’s fine, see?” 

He held Auguste out into your face by his armpits. Auguste only stayed silent as he stared into your soul. He had never seemed so upset with you.

“Come on, Auguste,” he coaxed your cat, your baby into being kind to you. “Give them a kiss so they know you love them just as you love me.”

Auguste refused to lick you, but with some more of Hoseok’s sweet encouragement, he pressed the pads of his paw against the tip of your nose. Seemingly, the most affection he was willing to give you after you almost killed his second favourite person. Or maybe his first, you weren’t really sure if you were still number one in his eyes with the blatant aggression he’d shown you tonight on Hoseok’s behalf.

“See, Y/n.” Hoseok brought Auguste back against his check, only for him to instantly start purring again. “He doesn’t hate you. Do you, Auguste?”

You watched as Hoseok fussed over Auguste and how Auguste, in turn, revelled in his affection just like he always did with you.

You were never gonna be able to get rid of Hoseok now were you?

No you will not lol

In case you're wondering, Hoseok broke into your house by the window in the kitchen. Which is why it was open, and also why your house was getting so cold so quickly. Like yeah, the night was cold anyway, but it was made worse by him leaving the door open.

Auguste does love the two of you equally... at least that is what Hoseok thinks. But after Hoseok making it routine to come into your house to wipe the counters, sweep, reorganize your pantry, snoop through your things and watch you while you sleep, and give Auguste plenty of pets and give him company during his nightly walks around the house, he'd quickly become number one. But you were still a very close second.

Oh yeah, also, Auguste was not the one who was making all that noise the past 8 or 9 months, it was Hoseok. Auguste just inadvertently took the blame lol

Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed. Hearing what you guys think is why I post anything in the first place, so please do comment. It lets me know that I'm not wasting time posting my silly ramblings.

Take care!

[kitashousewife]

you & me

an: i feel like gojo needs a break every now and then!! the chance to relax and i feel like he should get spoiled too!!!

pairings: gojo x fem!reader

warnings: angst from gojo, stress, anxiety, sorcerer au but everyone is happy and alive, alcohol mention and consumption, food mention, suggestive content

-

gojo's head hangs over the back of his desk chair as he lets out a long, exhaustion-filled sigh. he sways back and forth slightly, eyes shut, trying to relax for a few minutes. if he's not teaching, he's somewhere around the world on a mission. if he's not doing either of those, he's lying awake in bed with a drumming heart and a hyperactive mind.

with you by his side, of course.

being the strongest has its perks, for sure. challenges that help him grow and improve, opportunities to see the world, as well as more than enough financial stability. it's quite nice to be at the top.

it's pretty lonely as well.

the demand of it all has begun to take a toll on gojo, both mentally and physically. his bones ache, and his muscles strain more than they have before. just this morning during his training with the second years, he allowed himself to get pinned rather quickly by maki in 30 seconds. his fingers shake no matter how much he eats or drinks. even in his late twenties, gojo feels almost triple that.

the mental effects are a whole other story. at this point, he hasn't slept in almost four days, not that he hasn't tried. gojo's usually sharp mind is exhausted during fights, hyper-focused, and completely used up by the end of the day. and, for the first time in his life, he feels anxious. constantly looking behind himself, checking the school cameras, and even begging to install stricter security on your shared home than you already have.

he exhales, opening his eyes. he just wants a vacation.

"i'm really sorry, but nobody else is available," principal yaga sympathizes over the phone. the end of your pen taps on your notebook while you think.

"nobody from kyoto? what about a team? i know it's important, but satoru is tired and-"

"i know he is," yaga agrees. "but i told you, i can't find anyone else. i'm afraid that this mission needs someone of gojo's caliber. unless a miracle happens, i can't guarantee any time off. i'm sorry, i really am."

you rub your eyes, nodding as you cross off yet another failed idea.

"no worries. thank you for trying though."

you hang up and groan. this is the fifth idea that you've come up with today. valentine's is only a couple away, and you want to plan something special for your boyfriend. he's clearly overworked, yet he never fails to spoil you. it's your turn.

if something could work, of course.

you think for a few more minutes before giving up. you rise from your spot at the kitchen table, shuffling towards the fridge. at least you could make some dinner before he gets home.

"hey sweetheart," gojo's very tired frame comes through the garage door.

dinner will have to wait.

"hi! i'm so happy to see you." you give him a large hug, and notice that he leans into you a bit more than normal. he's already out of his blindfold and uniform jacket, both thrown on the floor near his shoes.

"i'm happier to see you. how about we order pizza or something? don't worry about cooking anything tonight."

you smile. even with his fatigue, he just wants to make you happy.

"whatever you want, 'toru."

the evening feels short. after eating dinner together and watching a couple episodes of a show that neither of you really notices, gojo heads to take a shower. you hope to figure out more of the valentine's festivities before he comes out.

you think about surprising him at work. going there early, setting up some decorations and his favorite treats all nice before he arrives. it's a great plan, except he would notice you were gone.

you consider seeing a movie, maybe even the nice theater that opened up. much to your dismay, every show time is sold out.

you're about to try another theater when your phone rings.

"i'm so sorry for calling this late. do you have a few minutes?" it's yaga again. he only calls you if he can't get ahold of gojo himself. your stomach turns.

"don't apologize. and sure, is everything okay?"

he chuckles. "actually, yes. turns out the kyoto branch wants to handle it. they have a team that i'm fairly confident will be able to get the job done, and then some."

your turning changes to butterflies. "what are you saying?"

the smile in your voice must be evident, as he laughs again.

"i'm saying that you're clear. gojo won't have any missions for at least a couple weeks, so he's all yours."

you jump up and down a couple times. "oh, my gosh. thank you, so much. i can't thank you enough."

"don't mention it. he deserves it."

you end the call, running over to your laptop. you might be able to pull this off.

"what's got you so excited?"

"satoru!"

he grins from behind you. he knows how much you hate when he sneaks up on you.

"really though, everything okay?"

"yeah. everything is perfect."

you shuffle by him towards your shared bedroom. he raises an eyebrow. his lithe frame leans against the wall while you grab pajamas.

"you're hiding something."

"six-eyes tell you that?"

he snorts. "no, i just know you. tell me, pretty girl. what's going on?"

"you'll find out in a couple days!" you peck him on the lips and get into bed. he joins you with a shake of his head. for the first time in a while, gojo gets a few hours of sleep.

if someone was to win the world's most impatient award, it would be gojo satoru. you're happy that today is the day to finally spoil your boyfriend, but a large part of you is happy to be done with his prying.

you complete the finishing touches on your look, finalizing the plan in your head. thanks to some friends, you were able to get a table at one of the nicest restaurants in tokyo. five courses, dessert, everything is perfect. you will finish the night in a hotel, one that overlooks the city and is luxurious in every sense of the word.

"how do i look?"

you look at your reflection and see your boyfriend staring back at you. black glasses rest on the tip of his nose, and white hair falls around his face. he's in a simple black suit, and shiny dress shoes, complete with a pricey-looking watch.

"you look amazing, as usual. are you ready?"

a low whistle sneaks through his lips as you walk by him. blue eyes drag up your figure and gojo can't help himself. he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you into his chest with a coy smile.

"i'm sure we could spare a few minutes," he smiles wide now, keeping one hand on your waist as the other sneaks up to the zipper of your dress. you put a hand on his chest to push him back, and he pouts.

"we do not, 'toru. we need to go or you'll ruin the surprise. you sure you want that?"

he trails behind you with a whine. "i'm okay with the idea of it," he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you, but you shake your head.

"i'm serious, it's time to go!"

gojo's fingers pull at the drivers seat, but you wave him off quickly.

"what! at least let me drive," he pouts once again, and you giggle.

"you don't even know where you're going! it's not a far drive anyway, get in please!"

he gives up, finally letting you spoil him. he would never admit it, but he feels terrible he didn't plan something for valentine's day first. every year he's done something elaborate. trips, jewelry, booking entire restaurants, renting out entire beaches, anything flashy and loud to scream to the world that you're his. he can't help but feel a little down, though. gojo is nothing if not showy, especially when it comes to you.

the drive is relatively short. traffic in the city gives the two of you time to catch up. gojo shares about his students, marveling at their rapid growth and mastery of their own techniques. the way he lights up when sharing stories of their success warms your heart.

this is the gojo that you know. the man who would do anything for those he loves. the man who would drop everything he's doing to go do something absolutely mundane with you. the man who sacrifices everything to make sure everyone important to him is safe.

"we're here," you announce quietly, voice trailing off with the nerves. you pull the car up to the valet, and gojo is quick to leap out of the car as soon as you park. he opens the door for you with a grin, helping you out and sliding his arm around your waist.

"wow baby," he eyes the restaurant. he's never told you, but he's spent about six months on the waitlist for this place. 'how'd you score this?"

"i have my ways," you smirk. if he's impressed now, you can't wait for him to see what's in store.

gojo watches as you whisper with the hostess, quirking a brow as they scurry back quickly. he's even more surprised when what looks like the owner of the restaurant gives you a hug. soon, you motion him over with a big smile. he points at himself, mouthing a cheeky me? to which you roll your eyes.

gojo follows you, holding your hand as the two of you are led throughout the entire restaurant. dozens of couples dine together, laughing and carrying on with looks of love and adoration. it only makes gojo more excited, especially since the two of you are going further and further away from the crowd.

"here we are," your friend motions towards a small round table, adorned with champagne flutes, plates, and a bottle ready on ice. gojo pulls your chair out for you, kissing your cheek before sitting down. what's even better, is that this table is the only one in the room. "the first course should be out in about fifteen minutes or so. until then, enjoy yourselves."

you nod to your friend as they exit, before turning to your lover.

"oh my god baby," gojo looks around the room, eyes sparkling from the light of the candles that surround you. "what, i mean, how?"

your cheeks heat up, and he takes your hand in his.

"i know how busy you've been, how hard you're working, and i wanted to make this special. besides, you're always doing something for others, especially me," you squeeze his hand. "it's time i take care of you for once."

maybe it's the lighting, the way that you look tonight, or the overwhelming feeling of being taken cared of and loved, but gojo can't help but feel emotional. he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and he laughs to himself.

"i love you. so much. i don't deserve you."

you shake your head at that.

"you deserve everything good, satoru. i mean that, with my whole heart."

he kisses your knuckles. "i love you more, my perfect girl."

he stands up and checks his watch before walking towards you. he knees to your height, kissing you softly on the lips. your lips move with his, gasping when his hand smooths over your thigh and tongue swipes at your lips.

"we have about ten minutes left," he breathes on your lips and your breathing quickens. his other hand moves up your calf, under your dress before sliding up your thigh.

"how about i show you just how much i love you, my angel?"

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 20: Handmade

Words: 308 | Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

You aren’t sure what to expect when you receive a letter from your boyfriend inviting you over tonight, and on such short notice, but you waste no time throwing something nice on and apparating outside of the tiny cottage he’s called home for decades. There’s a cool breeze that sweeps through the night once you arrive, dead leaves rustle across the cement ground and brush over your black leather boots as you approach the door and place a gentle knock.

On the other side, you hear instant shuffling, then the door swings open. In all the years you’ve dated Severus, you’d never seen him cook, let alone have an apron on. The sight brings a giggling burst from your lungs and he smiles nervously, whisking you in before any far off neighbors have a chance to bat an eye.

“What’re you doing?” You chirp and kick your shoes off before joining him through the dining room.

The candles set on the table don’t go unnoticed nor do the set up placemats or the herby aroma brewing throughout the cottage. He’s making you dinner and everything’s being handmade, and that brings tears to your eyes.

You soon join him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his upper back with a soft breath.

“I absolutely love you, Severus,” you hum against him.

The rustling of the recipe book in his hands comes to a stop and he turns in your arms. With a soft smirk, he uses the thick oven mitts to push the curls from your face before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, my dear,” he breathes softly just before the timer rings to a buzz against the countertop letting you both know that it’s now time to enjoy what he’s spent all day preparing.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[hotluncheddie]

Seasons change, but people don't.

or three times steve asks eddie to stay, plus one time he finally does.

(my entry for @thefreakandthehair 's winter fic challenge! my prompt was "lets just stay here, watch the snow a little longer." and it turned into a lot of Eddie Munson being silly and spans all the seasons. 6.2k)

Ao3

✧*:･ﾟ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Spring 1985 

Eddie feels like his skin is too small. His scalp is prickling and he’s had the worst fucking day, okay? His stupid math and science teachers are in kahoots, he knows it. He’s shit in both their classes and they hate him and have it out for him and there's nothing he can do now. His grades are too low, he cant make it up and they don’t like him so there's no way out. Not charming anyone, no sob story that could save his sorry ass now. He’s not graduating. Again. He has to repeat senior year. Again. 

And the added layer to his shit cake of a day? King Steve wants to buy from him. Today, right now. Oh ho ho is he gonna get overcharged sooo bad. Seeing as eddie has to postpone his wallowing to wait at his stupid little bench in the stupid woods behind the stupid school.  

The spring air is nice at least, a little breeze blowing through the trees and the bench is warm from the sun. He's only been waiting for about 5 minutes before the telltale rustles and snaps of someone coming towards his spot are heard. 

Steve the hair Harrington is here. With his long stupid legs and his stupid jacket and eddie is not! In the mood! 

‘Hey man’ Steve slumps down onto the bench across from Eddie with a sigh and, huh. He looks really fucking tired. Like, if Eddie were his friend he would be seriously concerned. 

Steve is not Eddie's friend.

‘Hey yourself. 30 bucks. Cool?’ Eddie gets the baggie out of his little black lunchbox and holds it out. Steve just kind of looks at it. ‘What?’ Eddie snaps. He doesn’t have time for this.

Steve flinches at his tone and looks at Eddie with his big puppy eyes (yes! Eddie knows Steve Harrington is a pretty boy jock and yes! Eddie has had his little gay boy fantasies about Steve Harrington and no! Eddie is not proud of it!) and ohhh my god Eddie does not have time for this!! 

‘Sorry sorry, yeah man. Here.’ Steve takes out the cash and hands it over, but still doesn’t take the bag. He shuffles around, sticking his hands in his ugly preppy jacket ‘You. You wouldn’t roll for me would you?.. I’ll pay extra.’

Eddie scoffs, god what a day! Now this! ‘Baby never had to roll for himself before? Oh! to be royalty. I don’t have time Harrington, go get one of your lackeys to do it.’ He stands and Eddie knows his voice is icy, that a deal in the woods doesn’t require so much bite but he can’t help it. He needs his shitty fucking day to be over.

Steve's cheeks redden and he picks at the table. Eddie was expecting a rise, that classic king Steve bite back. But he just looks kinda like he’s going to throw up? ‘I can roll. I. I could roll. My um, my hands shake. My hands shake so I can't roll anymore.’ And he looks sad, the puppy dog eyes just timesed themselves by like, 10. 

Eddie melts. He knows his heart is too soft and squishy, his dad always loved to tell him so. 

‘Hand it over Harrington. And change your face, you’re breaking my heart man.’ Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs and makes a big show of sitting back on the bench, like rolling a couple silly little blunts for silly little Steve Harrington isn’t literally going to take him 5 minutes. 

‘Sorry, sorry. Um thanks. Thank you man, really.’ Ugh, he still looks sad and now he looks guilty too! Fuck! 

‘You’re fine man, seriously. Okay? I’ve just had a shitty day, rolling your stupid blunts for you isn’t going to make it worse, promise.’ Eddie flashes his teeth, gets out his spare papers and starts rolling. The familiar movements helping him relax a little. 

‘Okay well, thanks still. Uh and sorry, sorry your day was shit dude.’ Eddie side eyes Steve and watches him scrub a hand over his face. He really looks like shit, how did Eddie only just notice?

‘It's whatever. I’m simply forsaken to haunt the hallowed Hawkins High hallways for another year. A travesty for everyone involved honestly.’ and Steve just squints at him for a second, before breathing out a ‘shit, man’ which makes Eddie bark out a laugh. Maybe this new king Steve is more entertaining than the last one. 

‘You wanna um, like, share? Now?’ And isn’t that a question, smoke up with the hair? Oh if Eddie of yesteryear could see him now.

‘Thanks for the offer your majesty but I have a prior engagement’ Eddie stands again and ignores that Steve looks a little disappointed… Weird fucking day. ‘Enjoy though. hope it helps you sleep dude, you look like you need it.’ Eddie packs up his things, he feels a stress headache starting and he really does just want to go home, play his guitar maybe. Build up the courage to talk to Wayne. 

‘Sure, of course. Yeah, yeah. Thanks.’ Steve grimaces, but the corners of his lips rise a little, in a self deprecating way. It looks real, genuine. It suits him, Eddie thinks, being genuine. 

‘No really, you kinda look like shit dude.’ Eddie can't help it, if he’s given a little he’ll take  a lot. Especially if it’s from pretty boys who don’t look like they’re about to beat the shit out of him. 

‘Get the fuck outa here Munson’ Steve rolls his eyes and is smiling like he's trying not to. Eddie’s lizard brain wants to eat him. Eddie’s Eddie brain still wants to go home, but the pit in his stomach feels a little shallower. He starts to walk backwards out of the clearing.

‘Hey, Eddie?’ Steve is looking at the two neat spliffs in his palm. Eddie slows his steps as Steve glances up at him. ‘Just. Uh. There's a lot worse things out there than repeating senior year a couple times, okay dude? A lot worse.’ And there's a fire behind Steve's eyes that Eddie didn’t know was possible. Intense, brave, harrowed.  

Eddie is frozen for a second, held by this person in front of him. Someone he thought he knew, because Eddie knows how to read people and Steve Harrington was always so simple. But this Steve Harrington? This is new. Eddie's stomach twists. He needs to go home. 

He bows deeply, flourishing his hand and spins on his heel… He might just keep an eye out for Steve Harrington from now on. 

Summer 1985 

This was definitely not what Eddie had in mind when he said he would keep an eye out for Steve Harrington. 

He’s ready to head home for the night, after selling from the back porch of cheerleader Stacy Hofferman’s big ass house. The party was to celebrate the coming school year or something equally asinine. But his pockets are fat with rich kid cash and bummed cigarettes he didn’t need, so theres a fucking spring in his step okay? Sue him.

Steve Harrington is splayed on the front lawn, like a starfish and is humming some, carnival song? Wasted. Maybe a little crossfaded, but he didn’t buy anything from Eddie this time so he hopes the near empty vodka bottle is the only thing coursing through those veins right now. He doesn’t need to add Steve Harrington to his conscience tonight. But Eddie is a curious guy, so he saunters over. 

Oh god. Oh no. Steve’s in shorts. Cut off jean shorts. Plus his hair still looks good, even all sprawled out on the grass. Fuck. Eddie hates him. He's still grappling with the memory of seeing Steve in that little sailor outfit at the mall. Now this! 

‘You gonna sing me a song Harrington?’ Eddie’s sneakers stop either side of Steve's head and he leans over a little. Watches as Steve's eyes try to focus, squint a little before recognition brings a smile to Steve's face, mischief to his eyes. Huh, okay that's new. Not bad, but definitely new.  

‘Daisy bell doesn’t have words Eddie’ Steve fucking giggles at him and okay, yep, yep. Wasted.

‘You got a ride home harrington? Might want to cut the party here, yeah?’ Eddie is a weak weak man and something about his first name coming out of Steve Harrington's mouth lights a little fire in his belly. Ugh. Disgusting. 

Steve's face falls a little and his eyes go unfocused again. ‘Nah, can’t be there right now man. M’ good here.’

‘Outside on the grass? You not gonna try getting lucky tonight king Steve?’ Something about Steve being out here alone doesn’t sit right with Eddie. Sure Steve isn’t as surrounded with starry eyed guys and gals after graduating, and maybe a little before then too. But surely he came here with someone who would be pulling him up and away at the end of the night, keeping some sort of an eye out for him. Not that that person would ever be Eddie, but still. It’s, you know, the principle of the thing.

Steve sucks in a breath that puffs his cheeks out, eyes going comically wide before letting the breath out, slow. ‘Nahhhhh dude, haven’t been lucky for a long time.’ and his eyes go unfocused, glassy in the streetlights. ‘Doesn’t feel the same now anyway, not fun like it used to be.’ Suddenly he looks much older, older than Eddie, older than any 19 year old should. Lost in thoughts that draw great shadows onto the planes of his face.   

His eyes snap back up to Eddie, the fog clearing a little. ‘Think the scoops ahoy uniform killed my chances off already anyway. Lots of good things to come out of the mall being destroyed, I don’t have to scoop ice cream in shorts for one.’  He laughs, a little hysterical, and Eddie kind of feels like he's intruding, like there's a lot more to what Steve is saying right now and Eddie is not privy to any of it. 

Eddie smiles though and shoves his hands in his pockets, pulling out his pack and a lighter, fiddling with them. Steve takes another long pull from the bottle, god that shit smells like paint remover. Eddie can almost see the hangover brewing under Steve's honey skin.

Steve’s looking at him again. Upside down, on some girls' front lawn. And then he sucker punches eddie, out of fucking nowhere. ‘Stay and stargaze with me? Whadayasay Munson?’ his smile is dopey and drunk, he's so drunk. Drunk Steve Harrington just asked him to stargaze. Eddie thinks maybe the rumours about Hawkins being cursed actually might be true. But it's Eddie who’s cursed. Cursed to be confused by pretty jocks who turn out nothing like he ever expected. 

‘Fraid not sailor, for I am Cinderella and the clock just struck midnight.’ Eddie amps up the theatrics, he's nervous. Steve Harrington can’t know how on the back foot he feels right now. Confusing, charming fucker. ‘I can also feel the old lady next door itching to call the pigs and I am not about to deal with their hairy eyeballs tonight. No sir, the summer air is too sweet for that.’ Eddie steps away from Steve, angling his back towards the street. He feels goosebumps rising, even in the heat. He wants to run.

‘You gonna be okay tho?’ Eddie can’t help it. Stupid. Steve Harrington turning his heart gooey for a second time. 

Steve sits up on his elbows and looks at Eddie, eyes suddenly frighteningly clear. ‘You’re a sweet guy Munson. Anyone ever tell you that?’ Eddie shakes his head. ‘My secret then. Eddie Muson, total sweetheart.’ he says it into the breeze and Eddie is set alight at the idea of being seen. Being more than the freak who has the goods so we tolerate him. 

‘Don’t go spreading my secrets now Harrington.’ Going for light but the tightness in his throat won’t let him, it comes out raspy. Eddis backs away to his van, parked at the end of the lawn. Steve just huffs a laugh and flops back down.

From the driver's seat Eddie takes his time lighting his cigarette and changing the tape. But his eyes are on Steve, as he gets up on shaky legs, swinging the nearly empty vodka bottle with him. He stumbles back into the huddle of bodies by the front door. Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Steve Harrinton, full of surprises. Eddie drives home and half hopes to never see him again. Eddie doesn’t much care for surprises.  

Autumn 1986

Eddie shouldn’t be surprised, not now. Not by the Steve Harrington he went to hell with. Who dragged him back into the light. The boy with the nail bat who never seemed to stop swinging, not till Vecna was gone and the gates were locked up tight. Who’s hand still flexes like he misses the weight of the splintered wood, like he wants it back so he can protect the people he loves. Which by some divine intervention seems to include Eddie Munson of all people. 

Eddie shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Steve Harrington is the single most confusing person Eddie has ever met. He’s obsessed with him. He’s on his way to falling for him. Head over fucking heels fucked for Steve straight boy Harrignton. Divine intervention indeed. 

Steve is waiting for him now, leaning on the hood of the beamer, picking him up after physical therapy, which is still kinda kicking his ass. What with the new colder temperatures making his bones ache and his dick nurse insisting that; no he couldn’t suck himself off before so he definitely won't be able to after, even with all the stretching he’s having to do. What fresh hell am I right? 

Steve is waiting for him, with his stupid long legs and his ugly jacket and the disgustingly fond smile he tortures eddie with because he’s already wrapped in his winter coat. Hood up against the wind because the last, last! Thing Eddie wants these days is to be cold and apparently that amuses Steve enough to look at Eddie like hes a fucking kitten or something. Horrid! 

‘Still a no?’ Eddie is scowling, he knows he is. He shakes his head and Steve's smile just grows a little wider. Fucker. 

‘Come on.’ Steve flicks his zipper and Eddie gnashes his teeth at him. He’s not even in that bad a mood. Steve looking after him sometimes just kind of makes him feel all fizzy, electric. 

It was worse before. Right after. When Steve was coming to visit him in hospital, almost more than Wayne, bringing Eddie things to read and generally being a ray of fucking sunshine compared to the staff and Eddie himself. He would sit with Eddie and Eddie wouldn’t want to talk because everything hurt. He would sit with Eddie and complain about the kids being annoying, bitch about his parents being the worst and bemoan the fact that he needed to find a new job ASAP and really didn’t want to get another shitty retail one. Wanted to find something he was really good at, maybe help people, look out for them the way he did Dustin and Robin, be something that was all him. 

And Eddie? He ate up every bitchy, snarky, earnest moment of it. Got to know Steve Harrington that was equally everything and nothing like who he had met before. But the real fucking cherry on top? Eddie talked too, just as much once he started healing. Talked to Steve with and about Wayne, his shitty Dad, how much he loves metal and Dungeons and Dragons, how all he thinks he’s ever really wants to do is tell stories that make people feel a little less alone. 

They talked and Eddie went and ruined it by letting his heart run away with itself. Fucking swan diving right off the ledge named ‘totally normal none gay feelings about Steve Harrington’ and into the pool of regret that is ‘I want to kiss him, I want to kiss him. Please God let me kiss him, it’s me again Eddie Munson.’ Pathetic. 

So sometimes, when Steve is being just lovely, picking Eddie up. Eddie’s blood boils in his veins and his scarred skin buzzes with the tension of not being able to hold Steve’s hand across the gear stick like he so desperately wants to. 

Eddie doesn't even have the energy to comment on Steve playing The Cure, making fun of him for letting Jonathan rub off on him too much lately (the four (+Argyle) of them hanging out regularly to smoke up). Instead, he internally makes fun of himself for feeling actually personally attacked by how relatable and familiar the whiny, lovesick lyrics sound. The sky opening up into a downpour just adding to the mood, pathetic fallacy up the wazoo today, apparently. 

But Steve is talking to him so of course Eddie listens, because it's Steve and Eddie is what? Pathetic. That's right. 

‘And then Dustin went on this whole spiel about how I should really be thanking him for everything he does. All the advice he gives me, that I did not, actually, fucking ask for. Can you believe the gaul of that kid Ed’s?’ and Eddie laughs at Steve because actually yes, yes he fucking can. 

‘Maybe we should go full revolt and tell Mrs. Henderson about it, really take him down a peg. She’s basically adopted you, she'd take your side for sure Stevie.’ Steve nods at the idea but he’s still scowling because getting wound up seems to be his go to reaction for most things, being vaguely annoyed is his default. Eddie is not happy to admit that this is something he also finds attractive about Steve Harrington. Did he mention he was pathetic? 

‘Well before that you talk some sense into him will you? He’s demanded I drive him over here tomorrow to hound you about something or other, don’t know what, he’s being all cagey and secretive about it. The little asshole.’ Steve is pulling into the dirt road driveway where Eddie and Wayne’s new little house sits. Just big enough next to the check and paid medical bills to make that NDA look actually very tempting to sign, yes, thank you, here was it?

Steve parks and the rain beats down on the roof, Eddie shifts to look at Steve's still grumpy face, grinning. ‘You coming in? We can brainstorm, get the little butt head to stop meddling and start respecting his elders. Or you know, we could get high.’ Steve's face morphs into that little smile again, the one he tries to hide, like he's fighting to stay grumpy. Eddie wants to bite him. 

Steve's face shifts again and what comes out of his mouth shifts Eddies very being into the fiery pits of despair. At least that’s what he would say if he was unhinged, which he is not. Not. One. Bit.    

‘Can’t man, I have a date.’ Steve waggles his eyebrows a little and Eddie feels his grin dim. The remaining smile stiffens. His face like wax. 

‘Oh. Well. I won't keep you then. Go get 'em tiger and all that jazz.’ Eddie knows it comes out weird, like he’s annoyed and upset. Which he is. But he knows he absolutely shouldn’t be. He just can't help it. Fuck!

Steve is looking at him, he looks all worried and confused. Of course he's confused, no reason for Eddie to act the way he is. Act like a freak. Eddie needs to get out of here. Save them both from the weird ass vibes his treacherous heart has caused.  

Eddie twists for the door. ‘Hold on Eddie, wait with me till the rain stops yeah? I’ll keep the heater running.’ Steve reaches out, hand on his shoulder. Eddie looks at his hand gripping the door handle and wishes. Wishes he could turn around and make a joke, say thank fuck because he doesn’t want to look like a wet rat from the rain, ask steve about the girl, maybe make fun of him if it seems like the really likes her. Anything. Wishes he could just be normal. Normal about Steve Harrington.

But he can’t. Steve has a date and Eddie’s heart hurts. 

‘I gotta go Stevie, enjoy your date.’ and Eddie steps out into the rain, jogging over to the front door, already sodden. He unlocks it and steps inside, doesn’t look back once. Leaning against the closed door he slides down into a crouch. He’s in love with him. Fuck.

Winter 1986 

‘Stevie? What the fuck?’ 

Eddie was expecting a night alone. It was the day before Christmas eve and Wayne had gone out with some work buddies. Steve was having some fancy dinner with his parents, Robin’s with her Grandma and the party had plans to all meet and celebrate here tomorrow. So, Eddie was going to sit and stare at a wall. Said wall was going to magically help him work up the courage to maybe kiss Steve’s cheek under the mistletoe that Robin had threatened him with. She knew all about his hopeless, disgusting crush on Steve and seemed to be reaching the end of her patience for Eddie’s chicken shit confession skills. 

The plan so far consisted of some amalgamation of making a big joke about it, throwing up before and after or maybe just staring at Steve until he gains the ability to read Eddie’s mind. In other words, the wall was giving him nothing apart from the urge to bang his head against it. 

The worst part of it all though? The devastating, world shattering part? Is that Eddie’s grubby little brain was starting to think that he might actually have a chance. Because Steve has been.. a little different lately. And while Robin has confirmed that he has not made any of these memories up in some kind of horny Steve Harrington fueled haze, she has also not explicitly told him whether Steve would actually be interested in dating a guy. So Eddie continues to torture himself with memories. 

Memories like when Steve got the new Wham! Record and started asking if he should try growing out his facial hair because ‘it looks really good right Ed’s? With the earring too? Think I could pull it off?’ and then blushing when Eddie said ‘He is a good looking dude… you do kinda look like George Michael, so, I guess?’ because Eddie is trying okay? Feeling the waters that are coming out to Steve. Him blushing seems like a good sign. Right? (Robin had rolled her eyes very hard at this story and Eddie had not appreciated the attitude.) 

Or at movie night last week Steve purposefully squished in next to Eddie, making Jonathan move further down. Before like, stretching and putting his arm along the sofa behind Eddie. But halfway through his arm was more, around Eddie's shoulders? And Steve was maybe, maybe twirling a strand of Eddie's hair through his fingers… 

There was also maybe the fact that Steve had started staying the night a lot more lately. He did a whole lot before too, but now it feels a little… different. He’s not just there because he’s a biblically accurate angel who helps Eddie change his bandages when Wayne has to work. Or because Eddie smoked him out too hard and he couldn’t drive home. Or even because he has to pick Robin up in the morning and her house is closer to Eddie’s now. No, now it almost feels like Steve stays the night in Eddie’s bed, with Eddie, because he wants to. 

God, Eddie wants to barf on himself for even thinking that! But Steve just, doesn’t go home. Instead he shuffles in beside Eddie, in borrowed sweats and having used the toothbrush that’s Steve’s in the bathroom. Snuggles down into Eddie’s pillows and slings a leg over both of Eddies. He’ll look all sleepy and soft and mumble out ‘night Ed’s’, like it doesn’t make Eddie want to clamber on his roof and howl at the moon. 

Eddie is busy replaying these moments in his mind like the most depressing, angsty, pining VHS tape. So, hearing the walkie Dustin had given him crackle from under his bed, well, it makes Eddie near jump out of his own skin. 

‘Shit. Shit. Hello? Um, hello? Over.’ Eddie’s hands are shaking as he fumbles with the walkie. He’s barely used it since everything ended, much preferring the telephone like, you know, most people! 

‘Hi, um, hey Eddie..’ Steve’s crackly voice could be heard through the little speaker. Eddie stands up, taking a calm down lap of his room, his heart still beating fast. ‘Stevie? What the fuck?’ 

‘Sorry, sorry, this is dumb, sorry. Sorry I’ll, I’ll just go.’ Eddie peeks through his bedroom curtain. Steve, illuminated by the dash light in the front seat of his car, is on the front drive and Eddie can see the walkie gripped tight in both hands. Steve rocking slightly. 

‘Oh Stevie.. Come in sweetheart, why are you still outside?’ Eddie’s voice is putty soft because something is wrong. All his fears have been switched for concern as he descends the stairs to the front door. Ripping it open to find Steve with his hand raised ready to knock.

‘Hi’ Steve’s smile is sheepish but Eddie can see his eyes are rimmed red like he’s had the shittiest fucking night. And now he’s embarrassed? Fuck that!  

‘Come in, come in come in. Sit down Stevie I’ll get you some tea.’ Eddie putters around the kitchen, making tea as efficiently as possible to not keep Steve waiting, but also wanting to give him time to settle. 

He was expecting Steve to be sitting on the couch, but Eddie finds him by the big bay window that looks out over the small backyard and further fields. It’s a nice view and the space is already set up with some blankets and cushions: Eddie likes to read here. Fat snowflakes have begun to fall outside. Steve has a blanket draped over his shoulders, he’s facing the window but his eyes seem to focus on something a million miles away.  

‘Here. Take this doll, it’ll keep you warm.’ Eddie hands over the steaming mug and Steve cradles it in his hands, giving Eddie a ghost of a smile. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ bumping shoulders with Steve he waits. Looking at Steve's profile in the soft lamplight. There are ghosts in his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that breaks Eddie’s heart. His brave friend Steve.    

‘I just.. Do you ever feel like you weren't made for the real world? Ugh this.. I dunno what I'm saying.’ Steve runs a hand over his face and looks embarrassed. Eddie wishes he could just get it, understand without words so he could help, but life doesn’t work like that. He waits, taking Steve’s hand in both of his. The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch and he looks at their joined fingers. Eddie watches as he takes a deep breath. Eddie thinks he’s beautiful. 

‘Its, it's just. When we were there, in that. When all that happened to me. Obviously it was horrible. Terrible. But, for a little moment? I liked it. I liked having a role, a job to do. I knew the stakes and I knew that the only, only important thing was keeping everyone alive. There was nothing more important than that.’ Steve is looking out of the window again. His eyes are fiery and raw. Eddie so often forgets how much Steve has seen, has been through. 

‘All my life I've been told what’s important and what to care about. Which ended up being a lot of not caring or only caring about really really unimportant stuff. And I just can't do that again. I can't be what my parents want. My fucking, my Dad man, it’s never enough, watever I do. He made that fucking clear tonight.’ He grimaces and Eddie hopes he never meets Harrington senior because he’s getting decked and Eddie thinks he’s finally on Hopper’s good side so maybe that’s not the best idea. Although, he thinks he can make a pretty good case for himself.  

‘I don’t think I can be what anyone wants. Guess I just dunno who I really am. Never have never will… But for a second in that hell, I was somebody. Maybe somebody. And now it's out here again and everyone has all these dreams. And I'm so so happy for them because you all can do anything. Every one of those kids has such a bright future. But I dunno how to do it, Ed’s. I hate it. I dunno how to live as just Steve anymore.’ Steve’s eyes have filled with tears and the hand Eddie’s holding trembles slightly. Eddie lays a soft kiss on his palm. 

‘Steve Harrington you are so good.’ Eddie steels himself to look directly in Steve's eyes, making sure he understands. ‘You are free. You are free and that means you can do anything you want. Anything. Doesn’t matter how long you take to figure yourself out, or work out what it is you need. There are no rules okay? None, and anyone who tells you differently is lying. Especially if it’s your cunt dad, okay?’ Steve's pretty pink lips part and his cheeks are rosy, he really looks like he's going to cry. He also looks like that brave boy who swung a bat at the devil. He’s miraculous. 

‘The ‘real world’ doesn’t exist and most of the expectations people have are bullshit. I should know, I don’t think I’ve ever done one thing that was expected of me in my whole life, honey. Guess you’re just a freak like me.’ Eddie grins with all his teeth. Steve's mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes wide. Before he’s looking down at his lap and smiling, a few tears spilling out and dropping onto his jeans. ‘Your role is to be you Steve. Nothing more, nothing less. People love you for you, not for what you did, even though it was fucking incredible. They’re alive because of you but they love you for being you.’ Eddie takes a deep breath and swallows the ‘I love you’ on his tongue, not tonight.. But soon, he’ll do it soon. Pinky promise. 

Steve has let more tears fall and he’s looking at Eddie like he's special. ‘Okay?’ Eddie squeezes their hands and Steve nods. ‘Yeah, yeah I’m. It’ll be. I’ll be okay.’ But Steve’s face crumples up again with a small choked sob. He sets down the mug heavily on the floor and covers his eyes with his forearm, folding in on himself. Succumbing to it all for  a moment. Letting himself cry.

‘Oh Steve. Tell me what you need, baby.’ Eddie holds their joined hands tighter and tries to suck up all of Steve's sadness through the skin of his palm. Steve sniffs all snotty and rubs at his eyes with his sleeve. Before, finally, looking at Eddie with his pretty brown eyes and his dumb hair and his moles. Eddie’s heart feels loud but Steve's tear stained face looks more calm than he’s seen for a long time. His brave, beautiful, miraculous friend Steve. 

“Let's just stay here, watch the snow a little longer." Steve says it softly, the moment feels like glass. The two of them in a snowglobe, safe on a shelf. Together. 

‘Of course Stevie. As long as you want. I’ll stay.’ Eddie means it, in his bones, he wants nothing more than to stay in this moment a little longer. Steve asks Eddie to stay and Eddie knows now that he never, ever wants to leave again. 

— 

Morning light filters through the blinds and Eddie shifts, consciousness swimming in that slow way only deep deep sleep can bring. He feels breath on his neck, the weight of an arm over his chest, a hand on his heart, socked feet tangled amongst his bare ones. 

He had taken Steve’s hand last night, after they’d watched the snow leave a blanket over the view from the window. After Steve's tears had dried and his eyelids had begun to droop. He’d lead Steve upstairs and they laid down together, wrapped in eachothers arms. Steve had fallen asleep first and Eddie let himself have a secret selfish moment where he stared down at the boy in his arms. Thought about how much had changed, but how, actually, the Steve in his bed had always been the Steve he knew, he just wasn't ready to see it yet. 

Eddie is looking at him now, there's sleep crusted in his eyes and drool on the pillow and Steve's hair is sticking up in an alarming number of angles. He’s so ugly and soft in the mornings. It makes Eddie feel good. Happy. 

They laze in bed, waking up slow and taking their time before starting the day. Eddie is on his back staring at the ceiling and Steve is leaning up on one elbow so he’s looking down at Eddie. He's staring. Eddie is trying to be very cool and calm about it. Very cool. Very calm. That's right!

‘Oh shoot.’ Steve snaps his fingers ‘I um, forgot your present at home, kinda left in a rush. Sorry.’ He looks genuinely sorry. Eddie doesn’t really care, because just having Steve here is gift enough. Yup, that's how Eddie Munson feels. It’s gross, he knows. 

‘Guess I’ll have to end it all then’ Eddie says with a casual shrug. Steve snorts and shoves him like he doesn’t find Eddie's dramatic’s hilarious. 

‘I do have something I can give you now though. A gift of sorts.’ Steve taps a finger to his chin and looks so mischievous. The light from outside hits the back of his hair so it glows, like a halo. Eddie wants to kiss him so bad. Kiss the angel boy in his bed. Shit.

‘It better not be a wet willy. Toby Hamelton gave me one once in the fifth grade and I literally punched him in the face on reflex Steve it was so fucking gross.’ Eddie knows he’s rambling but it’s the only way he won’t kiss Steve right now. Right on his pretty pretty pretty face. 

Steve smiles at him so softly, so sweetly, like Eddie isn’t being super weird right now. Smiles at Eddie and leans in, ghosts his mouth so so close over Eddie’s, looks into his eyes. Eddie’s breath hitches and he can’t move but he swears he feels his pupils dilate. 

Steve must see it too, because he closes the gap. Eddie’s eyes slide shut and his hands and feet tingle, there are fireworks going off in his ears and his lips fizz and he’s overwhelmed in the best possible way. 

He’s kissing Steve Harrington. Eddie Munson is kissing Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is kissing Eddie Munson. 

Eddie pulls out of the kiss with a tiny gasp ‘You didn’t suddenly gain the ability to read my mind did you?’ Steve looks so perplexed, eyebrows furrowed and lips in a little ‘o’, staring at Eddie’s mouth. He gives a small shake of his head. ‘Okay good, good yeah. Good.’ 

Eddie goes back in, lifting a hand to Steve’s jaw, holding him softly while he sucks on his bottom lip. Steve is good at kissing, Eddie thinks he could write a whole album about this kiss alone. Maybe he will. He feels like he can do anything! Maybe he’ll kill God later, after breakfast. Why not? Ha! 

They break apart for breath and Steve's pupils are blown wide, Eddie wants to drown in them. He feels giddy, maybe a little hysterical. ‘You know, before you came over yesterday I was working up the courage to kiss your cheek under the mistletoe.. Which seems super lame and embarrassing now that I think about it. Forget I said anything actually. Yeah, uhm so... Anyway, thank you. For. For the gift.’ Steve is loosing romance points for every stupid word he lets Eddies say. 

‘That is pretty lame dude’ Steve smiles sweetly and Eddie knows it's lame and Steve is probably joking but he doesn't need to to be told that right now. Nasty boy… Also.

‘Dude? You sully this rapturous moment, nay my very existence! By calling me dude?’ Is that normal? Do people do that after they kiss? Surely Steve doesn't call girls he kisses dude. Oh no, Eddie’s spiralling. This is a spiral.

‘Eddie’ Steve tries but Eddie’s brain is filled with static. Eyes boring holes in the ceiling, hands flailing. 

‘Steve Harrington kisses Eddie Munson and calls him dude, well I never!’ The gaul! The gumption! The audacity! 

‘Eddie!’ Steve places his hand on Eddie’s cheek, turning it so they're looking into eachothers eyes. 

‘Yes?’ Steve is so pretty and his palm is so warm.

‘I really really like you Ed’s’ and Steve must be able to read Eddie's mind because those words are like a balm on his soul. He feels his cheeks dust pink, all the fears and embarrassment float. Steve likes him back.

Leaning back onto his elbow Steve looks back down at Eddie on his back. The same as before but so so different. ‘Happy Christmas Eddie’ Steve's smile is dopey and perfect and this is the best Christmas ever.

[kinardsevan]

30 day fluff challenge: day fourteen

"taking care of eachother while sick"

little tight on time (thanks to The Devil Doesn't Bargain editing), so this one is a little shorter, but I could have so much fun expanding this one into a lengthier sickfic <3

Evan wakes up later in the night, shivering violently as a cough wracks out of him. 

“I got you another blanket baby,” Tommy murmurs as he shakes it out over Evan. The blonde whimpers as it comes down on him but does nothing to make him feel any warmer. Tommy shifts back around the bed and gets in on his side, pulling the blankets back to climb in. 

“Still co-old,” Evan stammers, trembling. Tommy scoots closer and pulls him in wraps his arms around Evan. 

“Better,” he asks as he rubs his hands up and down his back. 

“A little,” Evan rasps. He snuggles tighter against Tommy, still shivering. 

Tommy lets out a long breath, continuing to move his hands up and down on Evan. His skin is hot to the touch and his fever is climbing, which Tommy supposes isn’t that surprising, given that it only started a few hours ago. Still, the rate at which he’s spiking is concerning. 

“Eddie picked up some provisions,” he murmurs. Evan doesn’t reply. 

Evan falls back out fairly quickly, but Tommy stays beside him. He’s sure they’re just getting started with whatever virus is setting in on him, and the last thing he wants to do is leave him unattended. Even so, he eventually nods off himself. 

His eyes shoot open sometime later to the sound of retching. Evan is coughing so hard that the coughs are shifting to dry heaves, curled over on the side of the bed facing away from Tommy. 

He leaps from the bed and circles it quickly, finding the waste bin he’d grabbed for Evan earlier in the evening and lifting it for him as the blonde continues to cough, strained whines coming out of him at the pain it’s inducing when he finally manages to get a breath. 

Tommy frowns as he perches next to him, running a hand down the back of Evan’s head. Evan looks up at him wearily, eyes glassy from the strain of coughing. 

“Baby,” he lilts, stroking his thumb along the back of Evan’s head. He’s still so warm. 

Evan blinks a few times as he sits there, clearly still struggling to be awake. 

“Can I get you anything,” Tommy asks, sliding his hand around Evan’s head to feel his forehead. Evan shakes his head, but then grabs the wastebin suddenly, his eyes going wide as he starts getting sick. Tommy shakes his head, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Evan is loath to stop it, buckling forward with each new wave that comes. He manages a whimper in between a round of waves, only for his stomach to recoil again a few seconds later. 

“Let it out,” Tommy murmurs to him, alternating between rubbing his back and stroking the sweat off his forehead. It takes almost a full minute, but eventually, Evan is able to let up. Tommy sets the bin aside briefly to grab Evan’s water so that he can rinse his mouth out. He lifts the bin once more for Evan to spit into before helping him lay back down. 

“I’m gonna go rinse this,” he tells him, running a hand along Evan’s forehead again. “Think you’ll be okay for a minute?” 

Evan nods, tugging the blankets higher around him. 

“Usually comes in rounds,” he murmurs as he reaches for a tissue on the nightstand. “Should be fine for a while.” 

Tommy stands then and heads to the bathroom, dumping the contents in the bin before rinsing it and returning to their bedroom as promised. He places the bin beside Evan again and then picks up the thermometer, turning it on and pressing it to Evan’s temple. 

“Eddie pick up chloraseptic spray,” he rasps wearily. 

Tommy glances up at the pharmacy on his side of the bed. “I think so. I’ll look in a minute.” 

The thermometer beeps a few seconds later and Tommy lifts it, shakes his head. 

“Over a hundred and three now,” he tells Evan as he places it back on the nightstand. He rounds the bed once more and starts shuffling around the supplies he’d left out from Eddie’s delivery. Sure enough, he finds the spray. He starts pulling at the wrapping on it. “Think you can tolerate this without getting sick again?” 

Evan nods, managing to lean up on an elbow when Tommy passes him the spray. Once he’s gotten it in, he passes the bottle back to Tommy before laying back down, letting out a soft sigh as the analgesic starts to kick in. 

Tommy settles back in bed with him then, letting Evan curl up against him once more. 

“I feel like someone shoved me in Oscar’s trash can and then threw me down a flight of stairs,” he murmurs nasally. 

Tommy chuckles. “Too much Sesame Street with Jee, I think.” 

“Shut up,” he replies. 

Tommy leans down, kisses his forehead. “Go back to sleep, grouch.” He pauses for a moment. “I love you.” 

Evan sighs, tries to snuggle even closer. “Love you.”