#Ava Brightly

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | Six

— Truth Unveiled

series masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The morning after your heartfelt conversation with Ava dawned, bringing with it a new wave of anxiety. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts of how to tell Carlos about the pregnancy. Ava's reassuring words played on a loop in your head, offering some comfort amidst the chaos.

As you entered the paddock on race day, the buzz of activity and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The sun was shining brightly, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. You walked briskly, your heart pounding with each step, knowing that Carlos would be occupied with media duties, the actual race, and the post-race debriefing with the team. Usually, you weren’t part of the post-race debrief, but today was different. More team members had been asked to join, emphasizing that every sort of role counted, media included.

You immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to keep a low profile. The garage was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making last-minute adjustments to the car. You focused on your work, the familiar routine helping to calm your nerves. However, the thought of facing Carlos again later loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You exchanged glances with Ava several times throughout the day. Even though neither of you had the chance to stop and chat, her eyes constantly sought yours, silently checking in on you. Each time you caught her gaze, she offered a small, reassuring smile or a slight nod, her way of silently asking if you were holding up okay. It was a subtle but comforting gesture, a reminder that she was there for you, ready to lend her support whenever you needed it. These moments of connection, though brief, helped ground you amid the chaos of the day, giving you a small sense of stability and reassurance.

As the clock ticked closer towards the start of the race, the tension in the paddock heightened. Murmurs were heard in passing as each team solely focused on their two race cars, ensuring that every single part was in place and running smoothly.

You took your usual spot in the garage, watching the race unfold with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The roar of the engines filled the air, mingling with the cheers of the crowd. The sun beat down on the track, casting shimmering heat waves that made everything appear slightly surreal. You kept a close eye on the monitors, tracking every lap, every turn, every pit stop with bated breath. Wearing a pair of headphones, you were able to switch between both driver’s radio chatter, listening in to everything that was being said.

“Box, box, box!” the race engineer's voice crackled through your headphones, signaling one of the drivers to pit.

Working in motorsports, every day was like a new adventure, but nothing could ever top the feeling of race day. You truly felt like a proper spectator of the sport with the added bonus of being able to work behind the scenes with the team, making the experience even more enjoyable.

Carlos drove brilliantly, his skill and determination evident in every maneuver. He fought his way through the pack after an unfortunate position set in qualifying the day before, his car dancing around the corners with precision. When he crossed the finish line in third place, the cheers from the Ferrari garage were deafening. Carlos had secured a podium finish, a testament to his talent and the team’s hard work.

Charles, too, had an impressive race. He finished fourth, just shy of the podium, but his performance was strong and consistent. It was a good day for Ferrari, overall. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric with celebration and relief. Team members exchanged high-fives and hugs, their faces alight with joy.

After the podium celebration and a team photo, you were heading toward the meeting room for the post-race debrief when Carlos approached you, flanked by a few other team members.

“Hey, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner tonight to celebrate. You in?”

You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “Oh, I already have plans with Ava tonight. Rain check?”

Carlos frowned but nodded. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Everyone gathered in the meeting room, a large space filled with monitors and charts displaying the race data. The room was filled with the hum of quiet conversations, the excitement from the day’s success still palpable. As you settled into the debrief, you noticed Carlos tapping away on his phone before holding it under the table. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see his message.

‘You looked amazing today. My number really suited you, why’d you change?’

You frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Another message came through almost immediately.

‘I saw you wearing a shirt with my number on it earlier, did you not notice?’

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You hadn’t even realized you had been wearing his number. The shirt was one Carlos had left in your hotel room after staying the night, and since he never asked for it back, you packed it and took it home. You ended up wearing it at home often because it was comfortable, but it was the first time you wore it in public, and that too without realizing it. Worst of all, Carlos had noticed.

‘Didn’t want to distract you’ you texted back, deciding against mentioning that you only changed because you spilled coffee on it, otherwise you would’ve worn it the entire day without realizing.

Carlos’ response was almost immediate. ‘Too late for that. You’re distracting me right now.’

You glanced up to see him smirking at you from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

Throughout the debrief, Carlos continued to text you, his messages a mix of playful banter and subtle compliments.

‘Focus on the debrief, Carlos.’ You texted, hoping to divert his attention towards the meeting.

That didn’t work because it wasn’t long before you received another text from him. ‘How can I, you got me picturing you in my shirt, and nothing but my shirt.’

You felt the blush deepen, grateful that the dim lighting in the room due to the projector hid your reddening cheeks. You tried to focus on the engineer’s analysis of the race, but Carlos’ messages kept pulling your attention.

‘Seriously, though. You make it hard to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about you’

You shook your head slightly, finding it unbelievable that he was mentioning such topics during a meeting. ‘Stop it, Carlos. We’re supposed to be working’

He glanced up at you for a moment, finding it amusing that you couldn’t contain your smile despite the messages you sent opposing his words.

‘You know, I miss our late-night talks…and other things’

Your eyes wandered down to the phone in your palm, widening when you read his text. You typed out a message quickly, hoping to end the conversation without getting caught by your superiors. ‘Carlos, this isn’t the time or place.’

‘When then?’

You took a deep breath, deciding to leave that question unanswered, not knowing how to respond.

As the debrief continued, you placed your phone face down on the table, trying to focus on the discussion. Carlos’ gaze never left you, watching like a hawk as you picked up your pen and jotted down notes. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to concentrate, each glance in his direction only heightening your anxiety.

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices as engineers and team members discussed the race’s finer points. Monitors displayed graphs and data from the day’s performance, adding a layer of visual complexity to the meeting. You found yourself scribbling notes almost mechanically, your mind half on the task and half on Carlos.

Every now and then, your phone would buzz with another message from him, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Each vibration felt like a small electric shock, jolting your concentration. You knew he was trying to get your attention, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the debrief.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you picked up your phone and saw his latest message: ‘What are you doing tonight?’

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, ‘You already asked me that. I told you I’ll be with Ava.’

Almost immediately, his response came. ‘I mean after that’

Your heart skipped a beat, understanding the implication. You felt a rush of emotions, conflicted between your desire for him and the secret you were holding.

‘Come on,’ his next message read as he watched your facial expressions while you contemplated your choices. ‘It’s been too long since we’ve celebrated.’

You understood what he meant by celebrations, remembering how the night ended the last time he won a race. A part of you wondered if baby Sainz growing in your womb was the result of that night, or the ones that followed.

The thought of being with him intimately while actively hiding that secret from him almost made you sick to your stomach. You knew you couldn't do that to him, despite how much you clenched your thighs together at the thought of another night spent tangled in the sheets.

You glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, then quickly typed back, ‘Carlos, it’s not that simple right now’

His reply was swift, ‘It can be. Just say yes.’

You thought back to the night he won, a hint of a smile growing on your face as you thought of another remark and quickly texted him. ‘Besides, you didn’t win today.’

Carlos looked up at you, catching your smile, and grinned. His fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen and you were fortunate that no one around him noticed his lack of attention on the debrief.

‘Podium is still a win. Third place means we can still celebrate, right?’

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. His persistence was both endearing and infuriating. ‘You’re relentless’ you typed back, feeling the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

‘Only because you’re worth it’ came his immediate response.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up easily and you didn’t want him to either. Your mind raced, trying to balance your feelings with the reality of the situation. But at that moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him, how much you missed the way he made you feel.

‘Okay’ you typed back finally. ‘But we need to talk first, Carlos. Seriously.’

He didn’t respond to the text, instead he sought out your gaze, waiting for you to look at him before nodding. Noticing the depth in his eyes, the honesty, you knew the truth had to be revealed tonight.

You placed your phone face down again, trying to focus on the remaining part of the debrief, but your thoughts were now consumed with the upcoming conversation with Carlos. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew tonight could change everything.

The debrief ended, and you began to gather your things. You noticed Carlos heading your way, a small grin on his face. Just before he was about to reach you, Charles interrupted him, stopping him for a hushed conversation. Since you weren’t far away, you were able to overhear parts of their conversation.

“Is she coming? If she is, Ava will too,” Charles inquired, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations.

Carlos shook his head at first, then looked at Charles with a pointed glare. “Why do you want Ava there?”

Charles seemed puzzled, pausing before he shrugged. “Well, they’re both part of the team, so…?”

Carlos shook his head again. “She said she already has plans with Ava, so I guess neither of them are coming.”

“Really? I heard she didn’t have any plans tonight.”

Charles’ behaviour made Carlos roll his eyes before elbowing him in annoyance. “Why did you put me up to it then if you already knew?”

He shrugged again, his expression neutral. “Just wanted to make sure, plus she likes you better than me for some reason.”

Carlos glanced back at you, his confusion deepening. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the room, knowing that the conversation you had been dreading was going to be unavoidable tonight.

You found a quieter corner in an office within the paddock to work on some last-minute media projects. The celebrations were in full swing elsewhere, but you stayed behind. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of your laptop since most of the team and other personnel were off enjoying the dinner celebration or heading back to their hotels.

You immersed yourself in your work, hoping to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. The tasks were routine—updating social media posts and editing photos from the race—but they kept your mind occupied. You sipped on a Red Bull, the caffeine helping to keep you focused.

Minutes turned into hours and you were completely immersed by the contents on the screen. Papers were strewn across your desk, and your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The can of Red Bull sat beside you, half-drunk. You had initially popped the tab, but after drinking half of it, you realized you needed to be cautious with your caffeine intake given your situation. It had been sitting on your desk for a while now, and you were hesitant to take another sip.

The door opened but you hadn’t noticed until Carlos gasped theatrically, causing you to look up in surprise. “You traitor!” he exclaimed, pointing at the can. “Siding with the enemy?”

You laughed, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. “Well, Ferrari doesn’t make energy drinks, Carlos. What else am I supposed to do to stay awake?”

He chuckled, the tension between you two momentarily easing. He walked closer, pulling up a chair beside you. “Good point. But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had plans with Ava.”

You looked down, the weight of your lie pressing on you. “I needed to get some work done,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of the Red Bull can. “There’s always something that needs to be finished.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “I saw Ava at the dinner. She said you were here working when she left. You seemed pretty adamant about those plans earlier.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure build up. “I didn’t have plans. I just… needed some time to myself, Carlos. To think and work through some things.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

You shrugged, your eyes avoiding him.

Carlos was silent for a moment, his gaze intense. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to hide.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat, realizing that the conversation you’ve been dreading was going to happen in the paddock of all places. “I know. It’s just… complicated.”

He reached out, placing a hand on yours. “I’m here now. Let’s talk. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming right now. The race, work, us.”

Carlos’s eyes softened. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Every time I try to talk to you, you find an excuse to be somewhere else.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he insisted, cutting you off. “And you’ve never been the type to avoid confrontation. Did I do something that makes you run away every time you see me?”

Carlos noticed your attempts to avoid him, which he openly acknowledged, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Well, you did something..." you trailed off, since he was technically half of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

“Enlighten me,” he said, his tone challenging but not unkind.

“What would change if I tell you?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“For one, I would have my friend back,” he replied softly.

“Are we friends or are we coworkers who fuck?” You shot back, your tone coming out a little harsher than you expected.

“We were friends first, were we not?” he questioned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Carlos. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours.

“It could change your life,” you warned, feeling a mixture of fear and resolve.

“It’s that serious?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking away for a moment to blink away the tears pricking the corners of your eyes

“It only makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m pregnant, Carlos, and it’s yours.”

——

Taglist OPEN: @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @the-ghost-lovwr @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @hc-dutch @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @arian-directioner @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @presidentdangdang @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @shimmermotorsport @darleneslane @mderby03 @jinimon-tr @landoslutmeout @chilling-seavey @persiar9

[springwitch26]

flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

Broken (but it's on the mend) - AVA/M

Word count: 6,221

TW/CW:

-Graphic depictions of panic attack

-Mentioning of past child abuse

Characters: Purple, King Orange/Mango Tango, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, The Second Coming, Navy Blue(mentioned), Orchid/Pink(mentioned), Gold(mentioned)

Relationships: (No romantic pairings) Purple & King Orange/Mango Tango, Purple & Green, Purple & The Colour Gang

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post AVM Ep 30 "The King" , Purple having self-worth issues, Good parent Mango, Bad parent Navy, the Colour Gang being good friends

Summary: Purple decided to clean up Mango's house while he was away, but made a terrible mistake in the process.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

"Okay, I'm leaving. Remember not to open the door for strangers, if you want to visit Green and the other kids in Minecraft drop me a message first, if I'm not home yet when you come back, don't forget to close the nether portal, also-"

"Sir-MT, I'm not a kid anymore. I've been living by myself for almost 2 years now, you don't have to worry about me." Purple pouted at Mango as the latter reached for his gold scarf, wrapping it around his neck meticulously.

"I know, I know. I have completely faith in your ability to take care of yourself, it's just..." Mango let out a sigh and placed a hand on the door knob, "...old habits die hard."

Purple bit their lip as they watched Mango open the door. The fierce, icy wind of December blew some snow flakes onto the doormat. 

"And don't forget to eat your lunch, there's food in the fridge. Don't heat metal containers in the microwave, remember to scoop whatever's inside into a bowl first-"

"MT!"

"Okay okay I'll stop now." Mango laughed and ruffled Purple's hair. "See you in the afternoon."

"See you!"

The door closed with a thud. Purple let out a breath they didn't know they were holding and turned around.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...The sound of the wall clock echoed across the living room, the only sound keeping them company.

They were alone, the realisation slowly sank in like a pebble descending down a deep well. Purple hugged themselves absentmindedly, their gaze drifted onto the small framed photograph placed on a low cabinet to their left. In it, a young child sat on their father's shoulders, beaming at them brightly. 

Purple responded with a small smile of their own, then withdrew their gaze and straightened their back. No use in standing here like a moron, they scolded themselves, they need to find something to do.

They scanned across the living room and only then did they realise what a mess it still was. The walls were covered with furious scribbles of Mango King Orange's notes and calculations, books and previous iterations of the King's staff were hastily piled up in the corners, the floor was coated by a thick layer of dust. 

Purple mentally kicked themselves. It's been two weeks since Mango gave up his title as King Orange and even allowed Purple to live with him in his own house, and they didn't even think of cleaning up said house for him? What kind of child roommate were they?

They'll make the house spotless before Mango came back. Purple's heart leaped as they pictured Mango returning home, pleasantly surprised, and telling them how good it was to have them around. They bounced on their feet a few times in excitement, and immediately set themselves in motion.

An indefinite amount of scrubbing, sweeping, mopping and tidying later, Purple glanced at the wall clock and noticed the minute hand had thrice swept pass the same marking since Mango left. They stretched their sore muscles and admired their work: the once dusty and stained floor now practically gleaming, the walls clean and polished, furnitures and items neatly arranged, a fresh scent of cleaning products filled the air. Several short, joyful notes escaped from Purple’s mouth, they can’t wait for Mango to see this! 

Satisfied, they realised how exhausted they were, and decided to take a well deserved break.

A bucket of dirty soap water, coincidentally sitting in Purple's way, was knocked over. Purple stumbled on the slippery floor and lost their balance. They yelped in surprise, flailed their arms and tried to grab hold of something, but failed and fell painfully into the puddle of filthy water with a splash. "Ow..." They mumbled, sitting up and rubbed their aching elbows. "Great, I have to mop the floor all over again..."

Suddenly, they spotted something on the floor. Blood drained from their face.

The photograph of Mango and his child lay submerged in the foul, murky water. A large, ugly crack marred the lovingly polished glass, liquid gradually seeped in through the crack, tainting Gold's wide grin with a greyish stain.

"God, oh no, oh nononononono...." Purple snatched the broken photograph from the ground and desperately wiped away all the disgusting liquid from its surface, but the damage was already done.

"It's okay, it's okay! I-I can fix this!" Purple reassured themselves with trembling voice, knowing perfectly well deep down that there's nothing they could do to reverse the damage. They traced the cracks with cold, numb fingers, the glaring blemish on the photo paper stung their eyes. "Oh god, what have I done..."

Purple recalled the first time they entered Mango's house, everything was carelessly lying around unkempt except for this photograph, which was free from the slightest speckle of dust. When Purple picked up the photograph to have a closer look, Mango snatched the photo away from Purple immediately. Every now and then, Mango would stare at the photo with such tenderness in his eyes that made Purple's heart throb.

A newfound horror dawned upon Purple. What would Mango do when he found out that Purple broke his most cherished possession? The one and only memento of his dearest child? 

The mere thought alone made Purple's whole body seize up in fear. Their legs felt like noodles as they sat helplessly in the slowly spreading puddle of dirty water. Purple hugged the broken photograph closely to their chest, their frame trembling with every sharp inhale, wet eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to find a solution.

Then, Purple heard the click of a key inserted into the keyhole, followed by the soft clunk of the bolt retracting.

Their heart stopped.

"I'm home!" Mango's deep, warm voice sounded like death knell to Purple's ears. They suddenly found themselves pinned to the ground, eyes glued to the dark liquid beneath them, unable to move, unable to speak. Their knuckles went white with how tightly they clinched the photograph, heart hammering against their chest.

"Wait no-shoot...wrong house..." 

"...Eh? But this is my house?"

"Purple! Kid, did you clean up the whole place while I was gone? Hehe, I didn't even recognise this place!"

"...Purple?" 

Footsteps. Mango's voice was right above them. "Purple? Why are you...what's wrong?"

Purple tried to answer, but their vocal cord cannot make a sound.

"Hey, kid-" Purple felt Mango touching their shoulders, they jerked backwards so violently as if being burnt. Purple looked up, and saw Mango towering over them.

A heavy kick from Navy sent Purple slamming into the gravel ground. The friction sent scorching pain across their back. Their father towered over them, looking angry and disappointed. "Get up! Now!" He growled, stomping the ground hard with one foot.

"S-sir! I-" Purple wanted to stand up, but their feet doesn't feel like theirs. Instead they scrambled backwards like a wounded animal. 

Mango must have sensed something was wrong. Purple didn't miss how his brows furrowed and how his eyes went sharp and scrutinising. His gaze was like an invisible hand squeezing the air out of Purple's lungs.

"Get up you little-! You think your enemies are just going to let you take your own sweet time?! If you're in a real battle you'd be dead by now!" Navy's mouth was contorted in a snarl, his booming voice rung at Purple's ears. They tried to stand up, but every muscle inside them screamed of pain and exhaustion.

"Purple, I need you to to tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't hurt you." Mango's voice was gentle and steady, but Purple still flinched as if Mango was yelling.

"I...I..." Purple's tongue felt like sandpaper inside their mouth.

Say something! Make something up! Anything! He cannot find out about the photograph!

As if on cue, Mango's piercing gaze locked onto the small rectangular frame in Purple's arms. All was lost.

Time slowed down. Purple watched, frozen in place, as Mango slowly bent down and took away the photograph. Seeing the damage, Mango's body stiffened, lips pressed together tightly. Then, his eyes turned to Purple again.

The floor was spinning. The room was spinning. Purple's chest felt weird. They tasted bile in their throat. Heartbeats were deafening. Needles were pricking their hands and feet. Somewhere in the distance someone was gasping for breath. They were gasping for breath. 

"What the hell is wrong with you today?! Stop crying like a wimp! Did you forget everything I taught you? GET. UP!!" This wasn't their father. This couldn't be their father. The being yelling at them was a demon taking form of their father. Purple curled into a fetal position and hid their face, wishing for everything to stop.

No, no, no. They need to calm down, go back normal. Mango's gonna notice and things would get worse. These episodes always make things worse. Stop breathing this fast, NOW!

"Purple, what-" Mango's lips were moving, but Purple cannot register what he was saying. Mango crouched down. Mango lifted their hand towards them.

The first kick landed on Purple's back, knocking the air out of them. 

Useless. Thud. 

Weak. Thud.

Pathetic. Thud.

Failure. Thud.

Purple's pupils contracted as the hand inched closer to them. No, no, no. This is bad. This's very bad. He's angry. He's going to hurt them. He's going to hurt them like Navy did. 

They need to stay away from him, they need to run, they need to get out of here.

Driven by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Purple bolted like a doe startled by a gunshot and dove straight into the trap door leading to the basement. Mango's astonished shout rang behind them, but they didn't dare to look back. They stumbled across the passageway littered with debris, blood pounded in their ears.

Purple activated the nether portal and threw themselves inside.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple stumbled through the jagged terrain between deep ravines filled with flowing lava. The sweltering heat amplified their dizziness, making everything around them swirl and warp. The crimson landscape around them seemed to close in, muffling every sound except their desperate, shallow gasps of breath, and the frantic scream in their mind urging them to run, escape, get away.

They didn't know how long they ran or how far they went, eventually fatigue overtook them, as if molten lead had filled their veins. They staggered to a stop, bending over and gasping for breath. Wetness clung to their face, but they couldn't even tell if it was sweat or tears.

Suddenly, a faint, melodious sound of the flute drifted into Purple's ears, a stark contrast to the incessant grunt and rumble in the Nether. Purple's heart skipped a beat. But it couldn't be who they hoped it was, right? Must have been their ears playing tricks on them.

The sound rang out again, Purple held their breath and lifted their head. Could it be? Could it really be?

"...uuuuurrrrrple......!" Purple gasped. A young, silky voice was calling out their name. The familiarity of that voice nearly made Purple burst into tears in relief. They wanted to shout back, but their throat was too tight to make a sound.

"My dear ol' grape boy!" A blur of vibrant green flashed before their eyes and they were enveloped by a pair of warm, slender arms. They automatically replicated the gesture, suddenly felt so completely drained that they could barely stand. It took all they had not to instantly melt into a sobbing mess.

"-so nice to see you again! How're you and King doing? Are you here by yourself?"

"...Green? How...how'd you..." They croaked weakly. Green seemed to notice something was off.

"Why's your voice so...and oh my Alan-"Green pulled away from the embrace, hands still clutching Purple's shoulders, "-you're shaking like crazy! What happened?!"

"I-uh-" The intensity in those emerald eyes made Purple look away. "I...I'm lost...?"

Green's brow twitched. "Purple, that's the lamest lie I've ever heard, even Red can do better than that." He scanned them from head to toe with concern and barely concealed anger. “Tell me, is it King again? Did he do something to you?!"

"No no h-he didn't, I just-"

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to worry about anyone, you're safe with me!"

And just like that, the dam collapsed. Purple's knees quietly buckled below them, they hid their face in the crook of Green's neck and started to bawl. 

"Cursors!" Green stumbled backward slightly due to Purple's weight but quickly steadied himself. With one arm he cradled Purple firmly, supporting their limp body, with the other he began to rub soothing circles on Purple's back. 

"No, no-It-it's not him..." They whispered between sobs,"-It's me...I did something...I did something terrible...I messed up...Oh Green, I messed up so bad!"

"Shh, shh…A-ah, it’s alright Purp, it's alright..." Green replied, with a slight tremble in his voice that Purple did not notice.

“An-and now he must be so mad at me! W-what if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if h-he kick me out?” Purple wailed.

“Don’t say that! King wouldn’t-“

“It-it’s all m-my fault! I’m so u-useless!”

That obviously hit a nerve, because Green’s body immediately went rigid. “Bullshit!” He retorted heatedly. ��Look, Purple, forget whatever just happened, right now what you need is plenty of rest. So here’s the plan. You, are going to come to our place and stay here for the night. After that we’ll figure out the situation with the other guys. Deal?”

Purple could only stare at Green blankly, teardrops still on their cheeks.

“Actually, never mind! C'mere!” Without further ado, Green tucked a dumbfounded Purple beneath his arm and started walking towards a Nether Portal.

What happened after that was a blur. Various colours danced around Purple emitting a cacophony of voices, but they barely have the energy to acknowledge each of the Colour Gang's presence. Green kept Purple close to his side and exchanged a few words with the others. Then, Purple was led into a dim and quiet room and lay down on a soft surface. They vaguely registered a small plushie being slid into their arms and felt the comforting pressure of a soft, warm blanket wrapped around them. Purple let out a long sigh of relief and silently thanked the Colour Gang for their consideration. At last, they allowed their weary mind to drift into sweet oblivion.

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Purple was woken up by raised voices outside their room. 

"...did you do this time?! Purple ran into the Nether! They weren't even wearing their elytra! You have no idea how bad a state they were in, shaking and crying all that, who knows what would've happened if I haven't found them!" Green was shouting angrily.

Purple's heart raced as they faintly heard Mango's voice outside the door, but his exact words were indecipherable.

"No! What kind of 'accident' are you talking about?! Was mistreating and betraying them in the past also counted as 'accidents'? We won't let you take another step forward unless you tell us exactly what happened!"

"What happened is between Purple and me. Let me talk to them and things would be resolved." Mango's voice increased in volume, his tone was carefully kept neutral, but Purple could detect the seething anger underneath.

"They're terrified of you! Who knows what you'll do to them if we let you through!"

"I won't do anything to them you stupid kid! I already told you it was a misunderstanding!" Great, now Mango was shouting too. 

Purple hurriedly untangled themselves from the blankets and stood up. Despite their dread of confronting Mango, they knew they had to intervene before things escalated further. Having two people who mean the most to them fighting over them was the last thing they wanted. They already made enough mistakes.

Purple took a deep breath and opened the door.

Just as they thought, Mango and the Colour Gang were outside. The five teenagers formed a semi-circle around Mango, shielding Purple from the adult stick figure.

"H-hey MT..."

Seeing Purple, Mango's irritated expression was immediately replaced by relief. 

"Purple! Thank the internet you’re okay!" He barged his way through the gang, ignoring their indignant yelp, and strode towards Purple, only stopping abruptly at a 2 meters away as if fearing Purple might run away again if he gets too close.

That wasn't right. Shouldn't Mango be furiously yelling at them for damaging his most valuable possession? Or at least gave them "the look" of disappointment like what Navy used to do? But Mango did nothing like that. Instead, he looked at Purple as if they were made out of delicate glass, and when he spoke his voice was soft and cautious.

“Purple, are-are you…is it alright if I talk with you for a moment? In private?”

What was happening?

“S-sure…?” Purple’s answer was more like a question. They never saw Mango like this before. King Orange was always authoritative and commanding, and although he often treated Purple harshly, his demeanour somehow made Purple feel safe. After giving up his title, Mango became calm and gentle. Purple really liked that, even if they were still unsure how to act around him. But right now, Mango looked like he was treading on thin ice, it even reminded Purple of themselves. 

“Purple, you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, we’ll deal with him.” Green walked to Purple’s side and whispered. The rest of the gang also looked at Purple with concern.

“Thank you guys, but I want to talk with him. We’ll be okay.” Purple offered the gang a weak but genuine smile.

“…Right. If you say so.” Green reluctantly walked away, throwing Mango a dirty look as he brushed past the tall stick figure. Mango visibly heaved a sigh of relief, and together they entered Purple’s room.

Sitting on their bed, Purple’s heart start pounding again. What if all that was just an act, and Mango was going to unleash all of his anger on them now that they were alone? Purple’s mind drifted back to the broken photograph and trembled. After committing such a horrendous crime, how could they just ran away without a single apology? Indeed, Mango had every right to be furious with them, they deserved every bit of his wrath and disappointment. 

But first, they need to apologise to Mango, it was the least they could do.

Purple watched as Mango quietly closed the door and turned to Purple. They cowered and squeezed their eyes shut, took a deep breath, and-

“I-I’m sorry MT!”

“Purple, I’m so sorry.” 

Two voices said in unison, both of them froze.

Wait, what? Was Purple's ears playing tricks on them again?

Purple opened their eyes and stared incredulously at Mango. Mango, meanwhile, grabbed a chair and sat down at a comfortable distance away from Purple. Purple saw him shifting in his seat.

"Allow me to start first, alright?" Mango closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly appearing ten years older. Then, he straightened his back, and that fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone.

"I want to apologise to you for overlooking the damage I inflicted upon you as King Orange. I manipulated you, deceived you, oppressed you, forced you to act against your conscience, and I had almost... if not for these kids...I would've..." Mango closed his eyes again, his face twitched as if in pain. "...I should never assume that you were okay. No one would be okay after what you've been through. And due to my ignorance, I caused you much distress today. I scared you, didn't I? You ran away because you were afraid I might hurt you again like before, didn't you?" Mango's eyes were shimmering with tears.

"Oh Purple, I am so, so sorry. For everything." Mango's hand inched forward as if wanting to hold Purple's hand, but quickly gave up when Purple did not replicate the gesture.

This conversation was not at all what Purple anticipated to be. The memories of King Orange were still raw and painful, they didn't want to relate this kind, gentle stick in front of them with the ruthless, intimidating King they remembered. It broke Purple's heart to witness Mango being swallowed by guilt, but at the same time, it felt like an empty, aching part of them was gradually being filled up by something warm and fuzzy. These complicated feelings was not something they experienced before, and it scared them. So instead, they decided to push them away for the time being and ask Mango the question they cared about the most: 

"You...you're not mad about me? For ruining the photograph?"

Mango turned his head to the side and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, Purple. It was an accident. It was not your fault."

"But I tripped over a bucket and knocked it down! If I were more careful..."

"Everyone makes mistakes, you didn't mean it."

"But that was your only keepsake of Gold! It's so important to you, yet I ruined it! "

"...I am upset about the stain, yes. but what is done is done. Being angry at you doesn't reverse the damage."

"But...!"

"Purple, if there is one thing I learned from my mistakes as King, is not to let my own emotions get the better of me and to inflict unnecessary harm upon others. Especially those that I care about, like you." Mango's voice regained its strength. He looked at Purple with such impeccable sincerity that Purple almost believed him. And Purple wanted to believe him, but a voice inside them just kept screaming wrong wrong wrong.

Mango shouldn't forgive you, he should be mad, he has to be, because you are-

"Although there is something I want to know." Mango's voice interrupted Purple's train of thought, "Why did you cleaned up the house all by yourself? You know you can wait for me to come home so that we can do it together, right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry- you're right," Purple said quickly, "I shouldn't have...if I didn't mess around, I wouldn't have broken the photograph-"

"No, no, I'm not blaming you!" Mango held up his hands in a placating manner, "As a matter of fact, I should thank you. I don't remember the last time the house was so clean and tidy." He chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to know why you decided to do it. It's not an easy task to do after all."

"Be-because, I wanted to be useful for once..." Purple admitted quietly, "It's been two weeks since...well...you let me to stay with you even though you weren't hiring me anymore, and you've been so nice to me all this time, so I thought, cleaning your house is the least I could do to repay you for that..."

Mango inhaled. "Purple, you don't have to repay me for anything. I let you stay because I...because you're a good kid. I'm no longer your superior and you're no longer my lackey, I should never have treated you as one in the first place." Mango moved his chair forward and gently placed a hand on Purple's lap. The warmth in his gaze was reserved for them alone. "I don't expect you to do anything in my favour, because I care about your welfare more than mine. I wish you could do the same for yourself."

Purple took a second to register what Mango said. The elder stick figure's words sent streams of warmth through their torso and into their limbs, as if there was a tiny sun blooming inside Purple's body. Oh stick, Mango really cared about them, maybe even more than they ever dreamed of. Their whole body was warm with joy...

Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Failure. 

Navy's voice rang at their ears, and suddenly the warmth was gone, a cold realisation set in. Purple lowered their head and discreetly shifted their legs away from Mango's touch. Mango must have noticed their sudden change in attitude. "...Kid, is something... did I say something wrong?" He inquired gingerly.

"MT...sir," Purple replied softly after a moment of silence, "You don't have to keep this up if you don't want to."

Mango blinked, looking surprised. "Wha-Kid, what are you talking about-"

"Sir, I know you're treating me well like this only because you're guilty of what you did to me in the past. I assure you there is no need for that." Purple looked down at their feet, trying their best to keep their tone levelled.

Mango's response didn't came immediately. When Purple timidly raised their head, it was to their mild surprise too see Mango's lower lip wobbling slightly, his expression was a mixture of shock and hurt. Then, it morphed into indignation. “Nonsense!" Mango raised his voice for the first time since their conversation. "Didn't you hear what I was trying say this whole time? I don't know what has gotten into your head all of a sudden-" Purple gritted their teeth at those words, "-but I certainly did not take you in because of guilt! I truly care about you from the bottom of my-"

"But why should you?! I'm of no use to you anymore!" Purple sprung to their feet, hands shaking.

"This isn't about-"

"I can't even get a single job done without breaking the one thing you value the most!"

"That's not-"

"Why're you still keeping me around? You should know I'm just a waste of space by now!"

"Enough!" Mango finally stood up, his face burning with rage."Why do you keep saying things like this?! What makes you think I would stop caring about you just because of your mistakes?! Can't you see how-"

"Because I'm not good enough!" These words made a daring escape out of Purple's lips before their brain could stop them. Tears obscured their vision, they couldn't see Mango's expression, but they didn't care, they just squeezed their eyes shut and kept on going.

"I-I'm weak, I'm useless, I'm a failure...I can't even g-get up on my feet when my dad ordered me to! "It felt like a cold, unforgiving hand had seized Purple's heart, tightening its grip painfully. But still, words tumbled out of their mouth like water pouring through the floodgates.

"If o-only I was strong enough, if only I was a be-better fighter, dad wouldn't have fed up with me and le-left me and mom behind, and, and if d-dad didn't left, then, then mom might still be alive right now! It's all my fault!" Tears streamed down Purple's cheeks as sobs wrack their body, it was as if they were once again the grief-stricken child standing in front of the freshly dug grave of their mother, helpless, vulnerable, alone.

"If I d-don't try hard en-enough, I'll just le-let everyone d-down, then no-no one would-“

“That’s not true!” A voice interrupted Purple’s lament. Green's arms were strong yet gentle, pulling Purple close with a reassuring steadiness, shielding them from the fierce winds on the top of the snowy mountain. "You don't always do the right thing, and you're not always as strong and capable as you want to be, but that's okay! As long as you are your true self, we would love you just the same."

Purple opened their eyes, the familiar warmth made them realise that Mango was holding them. They were both sitting on the floor, Mango's large, firm hand cradled the back of Purple's head, pressing it gently against his chest. Purple automatically leaned into the embrace, resting their head against Mango's broad and sturdy chest. The deep, steady rhythm of his heart beat thrummed against their ears, spreading through Purple's body like a calming wave. They could hear Mango breathing heavily right above them, with every exhale his breath came out wavering and unsteady.

"M..MT?"

"Please, enough...that's enough." Mango's voice was hardly more than a whisper, quivering with raw emotions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you all these things..." Purple sniffled, wiping their eyes furiously, their cheeks felt tight after crying so hard.

"No, Purple, I should be sorry, sorry for not connecting the dots earlier. I finally understood, everything makes sense now."

"W-What do you mean?"

Mango slowly and gently pulled away from the hug. Holding Purple's hand, he guided them to rise from the floor and settle on the mattress, himself following suit. Honey brown eyes met amethyst, a tender, sincere gaze that wrapped Purple up like a warm, fluffy blanket. "Purple, you need to know that none of what happened to you in the past was your fault. You shouldn't be burdened by those things."

Purple frowned, "How could you say that? My father left because of me, didn't he?"

"Oh Purple..."Mango sighed,"You're such a kind soul to think that way, but no. Definitely not. Your father set unrealistic expectations on you, and blamed you for not living up to them. This is extremely unfair." There was a noticeable edge to Mango's tone, as if he was struggling to contain his boiling anger.

"Unrealistic expectations?" Purple's head whipped towards Mango,"But I thought all parents wanted their children to be good fighters?"

"Well, yes, but not all of us would be such an a- I mean-"Mango took a deep breath, "-apparently, your father's way did more harm than good. At what age did your father start training you, may I ask?"

"Um...he started sparring with me since I was five."

"Five?!" Mango's hand was gripping the bed sheets so hard that it wrinkled. "Me and Gold still play fight with corn dogs when they were your age!"

A snicker broke the solemnity of the conversation, despite the previous emotional breakdown, Purple couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image."S-sorry, but really?" Purple's shoulders trembled with barely conceived laughter, "The King of the Nether, playing with corn dogs?"

Mango raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting such a reaction from Purple. But Purple's laughter was contagious, soon, Mango's eyes softened, and his lips curled into a grin.

"If you want we can do it as well someday, I know a guy that makes the best corn dogs."

But then his smile wavered, on the verge of fading, as his gaze grew distant and sorrowful, as if he was lost in a bittersweet memory. Purple knew he was thinking of Gold again.

"MT..." Driven by a newfound strength, they gingerly reached for Mango's hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. Mango blinked, glancing down at his hand in mild surprise before turning back to Purple with a thankful smile, gently holding their hand in return.

"Purple, You...reminded me of Gold in some ways," He said softly. "You're both enthusiastic, curious, and always seeking my attention. But Purple, you are so much more than these similarities. You have a brilliant tactical mind, able to craft creative strategies that outsmart your opponents, " Mango tighten his grip on Purple's hand, "and what you did just now shows just how incredibly observant and compassionate you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to realise what a wonderful kid I've found, but now that I did, how could I not care about you?"

"But I..."

"Before you say anything, yes, I know you are not perfect, you are a real kid, not an emotionless machine. You are allowed to make mistakes, you are allowed to be vulnerable, and you are allowed to feel the way you do. I'm here to accept every part of you——your mistakes, your flaws, your insecurities and your trauma, and I'll keep supporting and caring for you until you are ready to open up to me. So, Purple, will you give me a chance?"

At that very moment, Purple recalled their mother's tender, sad smile as her frail hand gently touched their face before going limp in their grasp. They wondered if Orchid's spirit was still watching over them, and if it was she who blessed them with such a perfect parental figure, because fate could never be so kind. They tried to summon a response, but what words could possibly convey the depth of the emotions surging through their heart? So instead, Purple did what first came to their mind: they threw themselves towards Mango, wrapping their arms tightly around his neck. And Mango did not hesitate for a second to pull Purple into his arms, enveloping them in a firm but gentle hug only a father could offer. "Heh..." He croaked, "I'll take that as a yes."

Yet, one last question lingered in Purple's mind like a blemish on a smooth, clear surface, and they couldn’t be completely at peace until they got an answer.

"But...what if I start doubting myself again? What if something went wrong and-and I-sorry..." Purple bit their lips, trying to break free from Mango's hold." I...I just couldn't see myself as you see me..."

But Mango only hugged Purple tighter. "It's alright, healing isn’t an overnight process,  it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support. Whenever doubts cloud your mind, I'll keep reminding you just how wonderful you are, and how much you mean to me, as many times as you need, until you believe it just as I do."

Mango paused, turning his ear towards the door, and smiled mysteriously. "And don't forget-" he released Purple, walked up to the door, and yanked the door open."-you have friends that care about you as well."

"Woah-!"

"What the-!"

"Ow-!"

With surprised yelps, five colourful sticks tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

"What the-!" Purple leaped up from the bed, blood rushing to their cheeks as they sputtered: "Why are- How did- Are you guys eavesdropping?!"

"Red get your fat ass off my- Sorry Purple! I tried to stop them but they just wouldn't listen!" Green explained hurriedly while trying to free himself from the others.

"Hey that not true!" Red shot back, "You were the one eavesdropping in the first place!

"What?!"

Yellow managed to get to his feet first, panting. "How did you know we're behind the door Ki- I mean Mr Tango?" He asked incredulously.

"Eh, I learned from experience." Mango sat back into his chair, a smug smile on his face.

"What does that mean-"

"-Anyway we're really sorry for eavesdropping you guys," Second gave Purple and Mango an apologetic look while helping Blue up, "but we were just worried..."

"Yeah," Blue added, "we heard shouting and we thought-"

"That's not an excuse for eavesdropping us!" Purple stomped the floor in exasperation, face as red as a plum.

"Don't worry!" Red flashed a toothy smile at Purple, "we didn't hear a thing!"

"Well except the part where you screamed you were a waste of space, and the part where-"

"Yellow you're not helping!" The others shouted in unison.

"I...you..!" At this point, Purple just wanted to disappear into thin air and never to be seen again.

"Alright alright," Mango stood up and placed a comforting hand on Purple's shoulder. "I understand you kids are concerned about Purple, but it's improper to listen in on our private conversation."

The five teenagers at least had the courtesy to look ashamed, their eyes fixed to the ground as they mumbled their apologies. Green, in particular, seemed the most uneasy. "Hey uh...Mr Mango? Sorry for talking to you like that earlier... I shouldn't have assumed that you were hurting Purple..." He stepped forward and bowed his head.

"I accept your apology," Mango said, patting Green on the shoulders and gesturing him to lift his head. "Although a bit rash, your protectiveness towards your friend is commendable."

"Yeah, thank you guys for...well...everything. I guess we do owe you an explanation for what happened between me and MT..." Purple scratched the back of their head, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

"Nah, it's fine, we're just glad that you guys are okay now!" Green gave a dismissive wave of his hand, the others nodded in agreement, smiling at Purple warmly.

Then, Yellow's expression brightened. "Hold on, is this the first time Mr Tango visited the PC?!" Hearing his words, the rest of the gang visibly perked up.

"Oh my gosh you're right! We should totally show him and Purple something cool!" Red chimed in, flapping his arms in excitement. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking-" 

"Yes! Sec, grab Alan's pen!"

"On it!" And with that, as swift and sudden as a summer storm, the gang ran off into the desktop.

Green stopped abruptly at the door and turned around, bouncing at the spot and waving at both of them wildly. "Purple! Mr Tango! You gotta come and join us!"

Purple heard Mango chuckle right behind them."These kids..." He sighed fondly before looking down to meet Purple's gaze. "So? What do you think? Want to see what crazy shenanigans they're up to?"

Purple stared into those soft honey-brown eyes, and remembered his words. "Healing isn’t an overnight process, it's a long journey that requires a lot of patience and support." Right now, with Mango by their side and five amazing friends up ahead, Purple know that they will not travel this journey alone.

They smiled. "Of course!"

»»———— ❋ ————-««

Thank you very much for reading this fic! Although Alan gave Mango and Purple a happy ending at the end of AVM Ep.30, I doubt it would be smooth sailing concerning Purple's backstory. This kid really had a rough childhood, years of tryiing and failing the expectations of an overly strict parent and shouldering the weight of another parent's death must have lasting impacts on their mental health. Purple and Mango's relationship was like a thin piece of ice, and it does not take a boulder to break the ice and discover the surging current underneath. But thankfully, both of them have what it takes to strengthen the relationship and to heal from their past trauma: love, understanding, and the support from others.

P.S: I've never played Minecraft before so I apologise for any inaccuracies about the game.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[bangaveragewhitewine]

Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there. 

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here. 

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring. 

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted. 

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall. 

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub. 

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them. 

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper. 

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck. 

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night. 

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs. 

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers. 

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…” 

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home. 

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming. 

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you. 

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips. 

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth. 

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes. 

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss. 

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy. 

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again. 

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet. 

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool. 

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?” 

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off. 

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…” 

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them. 

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday. 

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him. 

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’ 

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply.  An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing. 

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief. 

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth. 

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur. 

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver. 

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire. 

“Back. Pass me that cushion?” 

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together. 

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top. 

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip. 

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.” 

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers. 

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that. 

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him. 

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right. 

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?” 

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss. 

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder. 

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck. 

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum. 

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different. 

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like 

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out. 

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap. 

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.” 

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour. 

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough. 

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself. 

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass. 

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates. 

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good. 

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful. 

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..” 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?” 

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk. 

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body. 

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” 

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too. 

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow. 

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck. 

“But you’re so comfortable.” 

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you. 

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face. 

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you. 

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate. 

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids. 

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile. 

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July). 

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner. 

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night. 

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again. 

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze. 

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave. 

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight. 

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you. 

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest. 

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun. 

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose. 

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes). 

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve. 

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him. 

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up. 

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair. 

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face. 

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family. 

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table. 

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down. 

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume. 

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?” 

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours). 

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation. 

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle. 

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary. 

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.” 

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee. 

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?” 

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max). 

“The nice stuff? Syrup?” 

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?” 

“In the syrup?” 

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.” 

“Which one?” 

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.” 

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.” 

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now. 

“Magic word?” 

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand. 

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task. 

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down. 

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is. 

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table. 

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.” 

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips. 

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week. 

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer. 

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.” 

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup. 

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first. 

You smile to yourself and start plating up. 

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides. 

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves. 

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face. 

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth. 

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.” 

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.” 

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste.  He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet. 

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s. 

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created. 

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face. 

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her. 

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls. 

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and  Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind. 

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep. 

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table. 

What a treat. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️ 

[thelikesofus]

Buddie prompt thing.... What about Buddie pretending to be a couple to get something free in a restaurant or another place like that? Idk if it's too vague or basic but it's what I always go for for silly quick moments

Banana Boat Super Sundae Supreme

Buddie | 1k | Getting Together, Valentine's Day

Read on AO3

“Why here, Buck? You know this place will be overrun tonight, right?” Eddie reminds him but Buck just tugs Eddie through the door of the dessert bar by his elbow and makes a beeline for the back corner and the only empty table. 

Just as Eddie warned him the place is packed with couples all staring moony-eyed at each other over various bowls of ice cream and cakes. A strange kind of longing makes a home for itself in his chest.

“You ask too many questions,” Buck says as he shoves a menu into Eddie’s hands. “Just trust me okay? At least I’m not dragging you to an underground poker ring in a dodgy back alley.”

Okay, that’s fair. 

Buck nudges the toe of his shoe against Eddie’s shin under the table. “We’re just having dessert, okay.”

Of course, just dessert, on Valentine’s Day, just the two of them, surrounded by twenty other couples and Eddie is stupidly in love with his best friend—but that’s neither here nor there is it?

He’s not surprised that Buck asked him to go out tonight. He is well aware of how much Buck loves Valentine's Day and that even though he’s single again he would still want to be out enjoying the atmosphere. So Eddie breathes past the lump in his chest and nods, opening the menu in front of his face to hopefully hide his grimace. “Okay.”

A mildly frazzled-looking waitress approaches their table, clicking the end of her pen and flipping her notepad to a new page before she even looks up at them. “Hi, my name of Ava, what can I get for you tonight?”

Eddie is about to order the brownie—his usual choice any other time they've come here, usually with Christopher in toe—when Buck talks over him in a jumbled rush of excitement. “My husband and I will have the Banana Boat Super Sundae Supreme, please. Ah, with two spoons.”

Husband? Eddie’s head whips up from his menu to where Buck is grinning at him broadly—there’s a panicked edge to it though, a pointed look in his eyes like he’s trying to communicate something important to Eddie without giving anything away. What though, Eddie isn't sure, his mind still catching on the ‘Husband’ of it all like a stuck record.

“Oh.” The waitress looks surprised—Eddie can relate— and he tracks her eyes as they slide back and forth between them and to where Eddie’s hands are gripping his menu like a lifeline. That’s when he sees it, The big bubble-lettered sign hanging in the front window advertising the store's Valentine’s Day Couples Special, a sundae for two by the name Buck mentioned. How he hadn’t noticed it yet—in all its bubblegum-colored glory—he's not sure.  He drops the menu and tries to look like he hasn’t just been caught out. 

“Oh—umm, Honey, we forgot our rings again.” Buck squeaks, pink dusting across his cheeks as he reaches across the table to wrap his long fingers and wide palm over Eddie’s left fist, running his thumb over Eddie’s bare ring finger. 

Ava looks apologetic, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Eddie barely suppresses a cough. “Right,” His brain rushes to come up with an excuse, refusing to leave Buck high and dry in this apparent ruse. “No, it’s okay. We’re firefighters and we can’t wear our rings at work, it’s a safety hazard.”

“Yes!” Buck says brightly, clinging to Eddie’s hand still, “A hazard because it could get caught on things and you could end up getting degloved. Which is when your ring catches and just like pulls all the skin off your finger and—.” 

“Buck.” Eddie squeezes his fingers and Buck clamps his mouth shut mid-sentence, flashing the wide-eyed and slightly green-looking waitress an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ah, just the sundae please.” 

She shoves the notebook into the front pocket of her apron and disappears with a quick nod. 

Buck collapses back into his chair like his strings have been cut. “That was close.”

He tries to take his hand back but Eddie doesn't let him get far, he still has questions. 

“Husband?” He hisses—or at least tries to—it comes out sounding softer and more teasing than intended. 

“Sorry, it sounds more grown up than ‘boyfriend’. I thought it would be more convincing.”

“Why didn’t you just clue me into your plan beforehand?” 

Buck dips his chin, looking embarrassed. “I–I wasn’t sure if you’d still say yes to going out. But Eddie, just wait till you see the size of the sundae, it's huge. I saw the advert on their Instagram and–.” 

He’s looking frantically around the room as if to try to find another customer eating the aforementioned sundae and somehow convince Eddie that the last five minutes of terribly executed lying were worth it. But Eddie doesn’t need to be convinced. Buck could have told him that were going to stand on a street corner and pretend to be mimes for nothing but a laugh and Eddie would have done so without question just to make Buck happy.

Eddie sighs. “Buck, hey?” He reaches out and catches Buck’s hand before he can pull it out of reach. “We have done much stranger things than pretending to be married for cheap ice cream. Of course, I would have come. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

It’s a little too close to being too honest but the way Buck’s shoulders sag with relief, paired with the shy, grateful smile tugging at his lips soothes Eddie’s anxieties. “I know.”

“Good. So next time you want me to get ice cream with you as your husband, you should just ask.” The words leave his mouth before he can really think them through but before he can find enough reasons to panic Buck is reaching out and taking Eddie’s other hand until he’s got them both gripped in his on the table between them.

“Maybe we could try ice cream as boyfriends first?” His smile is a little bit cheeky and a little bit hopeful and Eddie loves him so much. 

“You’re a dork.” Eddie rolls his eyes and grins because if he doesn't he’ll cry, all the happiness bubbling inside of him threatening to burst at the seams. “But I like the sound of that.”

He hooks his foot around Buck’s ankles, trying and failing to contain the stupid, sappy, ridiculously happy grin that takes over his face when Buck lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles.  

Their sundae arrives and true to Buck’s word it is a massive. Buck insists on taking a photo to show Christopher and then makes Eddie fall a little more in love with him when he also asks the waitress to put through two orders of the brownie to go. 

prompt me out of my writing slump

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Idk what brought this on (and it's everything but edited), but I couldn't get it out of my head, so enjoy!

Maid of Honor!reader x Best Man!Simon Riley

The wedding had been beautiful - the sun shone brightly and the skies were a bright, cloudless blue. The gentle breeze that had ruffled the dress of the bride perfumed the air, the lingering smell of the flowers attached itself to everything in the vicinity.

Ava and Johnny were quietly married in the presence of their family and a select few friends. You had been among that group - having been Ava's best friend since you were both little girls. You played dolls together, braided each other's hair, held each other when you cried. It was only natural that you were chosen to be her maid of honor.

Johnny's best man had been his friend Simon. You hadn't met each other before the rehearsal dinner the night before and to say that you'd already formed a strong opinion would be putting it lightly.

You were balancing precariously on the edge of a tall ladder, draping tulle across the large chandelier in the middle of the room. Your tongue poked out at the corner as you tried to steady yourself. You reached out just a bit further when you suddenly feel yourself being jostled. Your brows furrow and you glare down at whoever it was that had run into you.

"Hey!" you bark, your fingers curled desperately around the slope of the light fixture above you. Your heart raced in your chest as you fought to steady your quick breathing. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" The man looked up and narrowed his gaze in on you, not looking amused. "You're not supposed to stand on the top cap of a ladder."

"And that gives you the right to knock into it?" you fire back, your cheeks flushed.

Slowly and discreetly you try to step down a wrung. Your foot slips and you find yourself free falling through the air. You yelp, your eyes closing on their on volition. The fall is short, stopping abruptly as you're caught mid-air. Strong arms are around your middle, the man you were just berating now holding you to his chest, your feet dangling off the floor.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically, your eyes sliding open to find the man still staring at you. The look of indifference was now gone, replaced with a slight smirk.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice lower now that you were closer to him.

You nod, swallowing the fear you were feeling. He allows you to slide down his front, keeping his gentle hold on you until your feet were firmly on the floor. You take a small step back away from him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassment. "You know, you really should watch where you're going."

"And you should be more careful."

The flash of a the camera broke you from your thoughts. You were smiling for the photographer, your hand on Simon's chest as he posed beside of you. You could feel him staring down at you, but you paid it no attention. You quickly wrapped up the pictures and then went to find your seat, sighing as you saw the nameplate beside your own.

"Can't escape you, can I?" Simon's voice crooned in your ear.

You plop down into your seat and drain your glass of wine. "What are you, a mind reader?"

Simon chuckles lightly and sinks into his seat. If the way his fingers pulled at the collar of his shirt was any indication, he was just as uncomfortable in his tie as he looked. You arch a brow at his incessant pawing. "You gonna fight your tie all night or take it off?"

He gives you a small glance, but says nothing. You huff and reach over, your fingers picking apart the knot in his tie, undoing it with ease. You fold it up and lay it on the table by his plate.

You eat in silence, listening to the soft music that played in the background. It wasn't long before the bride and groom had their first dance. You can't fight the cheek-aching smile that curls your lips as you see them move about the room. It wasn't smooth, by any means, neither of them had any dancing experience, but it was so very in tune with the couple.

You swallow back a wave of tears as you see your best friend lean up and place a sweet kiss on her new husband's lips. You take a quick picture with your phone, knowing how she'll treasure that moment in the years to come, and then wipe at your eyes with your napkin. You chance a glance at Simon and see him watching you.

"What?" you ask him quietly.

He shakes his head, the movement so small you barely noticed it. "I didn't say anything."

"You're looking at me funny," you accuse him softly. "You gonna make fun of me for crying?"

"Course not," he defends himself with a small shrug. "It's just... this is the first time I've ever seen you not actively wanting to punch someone."

You can't stop the snort of laughter that follows. You try to hide your grin behind your napkin, but you know you've been caught by the look on his face. He looks smug, like he'd accomplished something. You relent, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "Touché."

It's quiet for a moment before Simon speaks again. "You know, I don't go to many weddings-"

"Obviously," you add, your lips still twitching upwards.

Simon narrows his eyes again, "-but I do know you're supposed to dance. Humor me?"

You're shocked, but you nod and take his hand, following him to the dance floor. You fall into a simple rhythm, a slight sway around the floor. Simon is gentle with you, his hands firm, but soft in his hold. He clears his throat and says, "You clean up nice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, scrunching your nose at him.

Simon's cheek puff as he grins. "You should. It's the best I can do."

A laugh escapes you again, the volume of it drawing a few confused looks your way. You notice Ava and Johnny looking at you, both of them wearing face splitting grins. Your eyes widen and the hand you had on Simon's shoulder quickly covers your mouth. You shrink slightly, almost as if you're trying to hide behind his large frame, your cheeks burning.

"Why're you hidin'?" Simon laughs, his hand on your back firmer, guiding you back to your natural height. "Come back up here."

You straighten up, your eyes on Ava's across the room once more. She sends you a wink and a thumbs up. You shake your head and look back up at Simon, the fairy lights twinkling in your eyes. "Ava and Johnny seem to have their hearts set on something happening between us, don't they?"

Simon glances over at them, too, and Johnny wags his brows at him. Simon huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Johnny has been talkin' about it for months."

The liquid courage from the wine you'd had during the dinner burned hot in your veins. You rake your eyes back up to his. He was handsome - tall, well built, the tattoos you saw peeking out from beneath his sleeve - you'd be lying if you said he wasn't your type, even if you did get off to a bad start. "Well... we can't disappoint them on their wedding night, can we?"

Simon's eyes widen, and it's the biggest reaction you'd gotten out of him the entire night. His tongue darts out and wets his lips before he speaks. "No, I don't believe we can."

You let your hand fall from his shoulder, running down his arm to grip his hand. You curl your fingers around his and guide him along with you, out the doors of the reception hall of the hotel and toward the elevators. Your footsteps were quick, your heart pounding in your ears. "We're good friends."

Simon follows behind you with a nod, his eyes never leaving you. "The best."

[nimzdekrken]

"some scars are just not mean't to be worshiped" Ava shrugs before she starightens up as she sits next to the tall girl.

"Take it off" a soothing voice coming from the former nun, Beatrice gestures towards the small girl to remove her top. Ava stares at her confused before she lowers her head while her fingers starts working on the buttons. Once it's all done, Beatrice shifts slowly behind the girl and starts working her fingers on the girls spine, Ava stiffens and gasps a little with the contact, Bea notices and hurriedly jerks boths her hands to hold her still and whispers, "it's alright darling" Beatrice moves her lips to kiss the nape of Ava's neck, Ava closes her eyes shut while the ring starts to glow ever so brightly. "I will worship them" Beatrice moves a little lower and kisses her scar, "I will worship your body with all the reverence in me" Beatrice shifts her left hand to hold the small girls' hand~ "you're beautiful Ava darling."

[seraphinitegames]

Ro's reaction to the mc covering their faces with kisses while also telling them they love them in a whole bunch of different languages

Deep romance?

-

Adam/Ava

"You do realise one long kiss would have sufficed?" And then proceed to show them what they mean :D

-

Nate/Nat

Would totally be in their element with this, while also being very impressed as the MC's knowledge of languages, which would just make the whole moment even more amazing for them, hehe!

-

Felix/Farah

"I really hope all of that stuff you're saying is good. But I'm guessing it is with the kisses that come with them." All while smiling very brightly.

-

Mason/Morgan

Hmm...deep romance M with this...

Probably just let the MC get on with it but then later on try to remember one of the phrases and whisper it while kissing them on their way past them.

--

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[bertinworms]

I Wish You Would

Pairings: Tangerine x gn!civilian!drunk!reader

Tags/Warnings: cursing/language, alcohol alcohol consumption, drunk character, mention of gambling/betting, bar atmosphere, kissing/make out, mentions of fire arms/weapons

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: You are drunk. Not “black out and forget the entire night “ drunk, but white girl at the club with her friends drunk. One of your bestest friends is getting married soon and tonight you and the rest of your eccentric friend group are club/bar hopping to celebrate the engagement! Your friend group told you to think about it like the bachelorette party before the bachelorette party. Whatever that means… The group isn’t a big group, only about seven people, but the seven people all come from various backgrounds. Three of your friends come from pretty well off families and happened to be in university for law school. One of your friends works for some huge tech company with something to do with security. One of them comes from a line of surgeons and happens to be in residency for surgery. Your best friend and bride-to-be comes from an extremely wealthy and famous family, you aren’t really sure what for, but you know it has to do with tycoons and business and yada yada. And then there was you. You were in university too, at the same establishment as the rest of the group, but you didn’t come from lines of money. You were in school for education. 

Various backgrounds or not, your bestie for the restie wants to go absolutely ballistic and celebrate her girlfriend finally popping the question, so of course your study buddy group just has to go out! With the intentions of bar and club hopping, you all end up at an arcade? Or a bowling alley? You aren’t really sure, but the place has heaps of alcohol, arcade games, a place to bowl, mini golf, and also some cute patrons….

************************************************************************

You honestly could not believe that you had agreed to this. You had been friends with your group for almost five years and you had always said you would do anything for them, but you never thought it meant being out since about 7:00 PM celebrating Ava May’s proposal. When you had gotten the notification that afternoon with an image attached, you were hoping that her partner, Jordan, had finally popped the question and you were right. And of course the groupchat had blown up.

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

“Girls, Gays, & Daddies $$$”

Leoni: SHUT THE FUCK UP DID THEY REALLY PROPISE THIS TIME!!>>??!>!? Mateo: here comes leon with the typos 🙄 BUT OMG CONGRATS AVA!!!!!!! Camilia: HOOOOOOLYYYYY SHIT!!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!! THEY HAD THE FUCKING BALLSSSSS You: OMG YESS!!!!! WHEN’S THE WEDDING!!?? Elijah boo: FORGET the wedding!!!!! bitch, when are we CELEBRATING!!!!!! Naomi: omg can we PLEASE go out tonight!!!!???  Wrenster: omg ava congrats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it took them long enough!!!!!! Ava Bear: omg y’all already KNOW we’re going out tonight!!!!!! b @ my house 5pm SHARP troops 🫡

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

Of course five o’clock came, and everyone in the group chat was at Ava’s house. You all got to congratulate Jordan and Ava on the engagement, and say hello to both their family’s, but quickly carried Ava away to party the night away. That was of course after all seven of you pregamed getting ready.

The group was a close knit one. You all were giggling and laughing and dancing around each other while getting ready, raiding Ava’s closet and her accessories and checking yourselves in the mirrors. Everyone had gone for outfits that made them stand out, but complemented their features. You had ended up in some brightly colored crop top that Ava had shoved into your hands, your sneakers, and some designer jeans that Mateo had said would have your ass looking like you did 500 squats a day. You had laughed and rolled your eyes at that. You were pretty sure Mateo just wanted you to feel sexy. 

The rest of the group had picked similar outfits. Some exposing skin, other’s exposing less skin but featuring skin-tight clothing pieces. Some had added accessories to their hair, their neck, their wrists and more. With six other bodies dancing around, you honestly hadn’t gotten a great look at everyone’s outfits – but you figured it didn’t matter anyway because by the end of the night most of those outfits would probably look a lot different from how they looked currently. And once everyone was ready, you all headed towards Ava’s car where a driver was waiting. And you all climbed in and pregamed some more.

Half of the group tended to be “partiers”not crazy party goers, but they liked to spend time when they could out having a good time. That didn’t really happen to be up your alley. You were a little more introverted than your friend group, especially since you didn’t necessarily have the same funds your friends did. The group loved paying your way through parties though and always made sure you were included, but the combination of feeling bad and not loving the party scene meant you didn’t go out with them as much as they probably would’ve liked you to. But this night was different. Everyone in the group had already sternly told you that tonight you and Ava were not spending a dime on anything. Mateo telling you that tonight that they were celebrating Ava’s engagement and also the rare occasion of you going all out tonight with them. 

You didn’t disagree.

And that’s how you and your friend group ended up at some club? Arcade? Bowling alley? Bar? You weren’t sure what to call it, but the place seemed to have it all.. There was a bar with many-a-drinks, bowling alley lanes, an arcade, neon minigolf, laser tag, and televisions everywhere, each featuring a different sporting event which you assumed was for people betting on games. 

It was loud, and dark, but also brightly lit all at the same time. You were cold, but kept comfortable with the warmth of your friend group buzzing around you. You were very out of your element. You would’ve been slightly uncomfortable if you hadn’t already had about seven? No, you think eight? You weren’t sure, but you and the rest of the group had a fair amount of alcohol in you. 

Right then, everything seemed a little fuzzy. You had glanced at your phone and thought you had read some time around 11:00 PM, but with Rihanna blasting over the speakers in the building, it was a little hard to concentrate. 

The group was currently at a bar-like table. Mateo, Elijah, Ava, and Naomi were currently on their fourth round of bowling with Ava still somehow in the lead. Leon, Wren and Camilia had snuck away from the group either to get more drinks or maybe to play mini golf, you really couldn’t remember. 

Your glossed over gaze was disturbed by Mateo standing up and stretching as long as he could, his arms reaching up a little revealing a bit of his stomach. 

“Okay, I am going back to the bar to get another drink, anyone else coming?” He said, eyes bouncing around the faces at the table. Nobody responded as they all seemed to be involved with something else at the time, so you stood up quickly.

“Mmmmmmm, I’ll come with Matty!” You smiled and trailed after him as he led the way to the bar.

“You know there’s some cuties here, you should try and chat one up.” He says, side eyeing you as you both arrive at the bar to look over what you want.

You roll your eyes and playfully push his shoulder. “That would be a grand idea except I’m drunker than a skunk currently and we’re here to celebrate Ava, not find me a date.” 

Mateo rolls his eyes as he orders both of your drinks and collects them. 

“Okay, yeah we are celebrating Ava, but you know good and damn well if I told that girl you saw a hot guy looking your way that she would jump on the idea of you making a move tonight.” Mateo chuckles as he finishes his sentence and starts walking you both back to the table, curving through the different people.

“I know, but tonight I’m just hanging out with you guys. I’m honestly shocked that nobody has attracted any spare wild men to the table with how loud and obnoxious we’re being tonight.” You laugh, a tiny hiccup slipping out of your mouth.

As you and Mateo round the corner to your table, Mateo sees the group before you and busts out into laughter. “Oh my dear, have you truly jinxed yourself tonight.” He walks the few steps to the table, puts the two drinks down. “Hellooooo boys!”

When Mateo steps aside, you're greeted by the eyes of two men who look like they don't belong here. They both are extremely attractive, but both appear to be in suits. Like suit suits. Like they could be working at the bank. You recognize the two as workers for Ava’s father. Bodyguards. Or honestly the word babysitters fit the situation too. ‘Babysitters with bullets,’ you think to yourself as you look down at one of the men’s waists, catching a glimpse of a not-so-hidden weapon.

Your thought is cut off by that said man speaking and your eyes trail from his waist to his face. He holds eye contact with you before speaking. “Sorry to crash this here lil shindig, but you lot should be wrapping all this,” he twirls a finger around in the air, referencing the group, “up pretty soon. It’s getting late.” 

Once he finishes his sentence, it’s now his turn to look at you. You watch his eyes look up and down, scanning what felt like every inch of your body, before he looks back to Ava as she begins to speak.

“Oh my god! Look, I know Daddy sent you two to “look after me”’ Ava uses huge air quotes, “but I’m old enough to make sure I don’t get fucking dragged off drunk off my fucking ass. We’re just celebrating, just chillax, yeah?” Ava lets out a giggle as she clearly slurs her words and then playfully slaps the shoulder of the man that hadn’t spoken yet. 

“Come on Tangerine, just let them be, yeah? They’re not doing any harm and they're all in one spot.” The man says, putting a hand on Tangerine’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and shake. If you remember right, you’re pretty sure he goes by Lemon. Or that’s what you’ve heard Ava’s father call him.

“Yeah Tangerine! Just let us chilllllll” Naomi drags out the last word as she tries to put a hand on his chest. He takes a step back away from her, his face slightly puckering up as it seems like he stifles a face of annoyance.

 You sit down next to Ava, across from where the open seat in front of Tangerine is.

“Look. Ava’s father gave clear instructions to make sure she doesn’t make any fucked decisions tonight. And seeing as sh–” Tangerine’s speech is cut off once more, this time surprisingly by Elijah.

“Look man, if your concern is making sure Ava isn’t dead in a ditch, why don’t you two just pull a seat up at the table. It isn’t like we’re going anywhere else tonight, just fucking sit and relax. Have a drink!” Elijah almost barks this out before returning to the game of bowling. He’s currently in second place, behind Ava and you know he’s dying to beat her. 

Lemon gives a nod before sitting down at the bar, grabbing Ava’s half finished beer and taking a swig. Tangerine on the other hand reluctantly takes a seat in front of you. You watch his demeanor once he’s sat. It seems like he’s avoiding your gaze, and you’re not sure why. You watch his face as he observes the people around you. You can’t tell if he’s just surveying the place or if he’s just uncomfortable. His body language looks stiff and his hands are clasped on the table in front of him.

“You have pretty eyes…” The sentence slips out of your mouth as you stare at him, rubbing your own eye as you feel yourself getting a little tired. You were hoping to break the silence. “Also pretty arms.” You let out a little giggle as you prop your head on your hand, continuing to stare at the pretty man sitting across from you.

You talking seems to bring him back to the group at hand. Or at least brings his attention to you. He gives you a weird look, seeming to calculate what to say. “And you seem pretty drunk, love.” He reaches across the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it before returning it to you. “And that’s a pretty strong drink you got.”

You give yet another giggle, reaching for your drink and taking a sip. You were drunk all right, but you needed more liquid courage if you were going to be in the presence of this man. Your brain had fallen quiet and your friends seemed to not be coming to your rescue in this one. 

You recall a comment from Mateo earlier in the night about ‘letting you do your thing if you ever came across a hot ass man tonight.’ 

You had been around Tangerine and Lemon before. From what you could recall, they weren’t truly employed by Ava’s father. You’re pretty sure it was more like a freelance thing? They weren’t always around Ava and her family, but they were hired common enough for you to know exactly who they are and remember Tangerine. 

The first time you had ever met the two, the group was at a soccer game in the city. You were in Ava’s family’s suite at the game having a blast. You remember spotting Tangerine and asking Ava just who the tall man was exactly. After that, any time Tangerine and Lemon were hired to babysit Ava, you always basically gawked at the man. After Tangerine and Lemon left for the room, your friend group, especially Ava liked to tease you. Ava and Mateo knew you had a thing for Tangerine. Ava liked to get her father to hire the two as much as possible, especially if you were present. It meant you saw him often. It meant you thought about him often. You thought his curls were pretty and you could imagine what it would feel like to run your fingers through his beautiful hair. You could recall the accent he had. You thought the tattoos he had were attractive, or maybe it was just because they were on his arms. And god did he have pretty arms. 

You’re once again brought out of daydreaming, this time by Naomi sitting down by Tangerine and placing a hand on the back of his shoulder, and one hand on his chest. You don’t listen to what she’s saying, but by the look on their face, you know she’s flirting. And hard. You hear her let out a giggle as she makes some sort of comment about the man before you swap from sipping your drink to straight up downing it. 

You slam the cup down on the table and shoot up. “I’m off to get another drink..” You twirl around, maybe a little too fast, and begin heading for the bar.

You know the announcement of your departure was a little stern. You don’t know why, but it almost got on your nerves that Naomi was making a pass at the man. You let the jealousy stay for a second before rationalizing the thought. 

‘I’m not actually jealous. It’s late and I’m drunk, it isn’t that big of a deal, I’m just being silly.’ You think to yourself as you arrive at the bar, propping both elbows up onto the ledge and waiting for a bartender to notice you. You wipe your face hoping to clear your mind. 

While waiting your eyes slowly are drawn to one of the television hung above the bar – some wrestling match was going on. You notice the other people at the bar, their eyes glued to the screen. ‘I don’t understand why they are so invested.’ You think to yourself as you turn your attention back to in front of you, looking at the drink choices before noticing a man standing to your right. You turn your head and are happily met by the pretty blue eyes of a curly headed man.

You grin.

“Tangeriiinnnneeeeee” You draw out his name. You aren’t quite sure if it is on purpose or if you’re just drunk, but it didn’t matter as you watched the man’s lips twist into a smirk itself.

“Interested in the match, are we?” He asks, nodding back to the television.

“Mmmmmm, not quite. I’m not much of a sports fan.” You give a glance at the match before turning your attention back to him, noticing his shirt. He usually had it buttoned up all the way, as professional as you can get. But tonight, you notice at least two, maybe three buttons that seem to be open. You can see a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. You take a deep breath before your eyes return to his. He had watched you check him out yet again.

You clear your throat before asking, “Are you a fan?”

He doesn’t break eye contact. “I am tonight.” 

A noise escapes your throat, almost a hum. He still hadn’t broken eye contact. Maybe it was just you, but it seemed like it had gotten hard to breathe. You felt like you hadn’t taken a breath in ages. “And why’s that?” You ask, still looking at him and still maintaining eye contact. 

In the moment you felt like the only thing in the room was him. 

“Got money on the small guy. Everyone likes an underdog story, yeah?” The smirk returns to his face.

You nod your head in agreement. Once again, your brain has gone blank. The sudden movement of his lips catches your attention as your eyes quickly dart down to his lips, and quickly dart back up to his eyes. He had watched that happen too.

As your eyes meet, your body forces you to take a deep breath. You notice he does the same. Maybe his breath had also been caught in his throat. You realize the sound of the world around you also comes back to you. 

You’re brought back to the real world completely as a bartender greets you and Tangerine, asking what you two will have. But before you can answer for yourself, Tangerine speaks for you.

“Water for this one, and whisky for me.” He says before telling the bartender exactly what he wants. As soon as the bartender turns to go grab the materials, you turn back to Tangerine.

“I can’t order for myself now?” You jokingly ask, your voice getting a little higher in disbelief as you raise both your eyebrows in fake disbelief.

He looks at you and gives a scoff. “You can, but I don’t know if you should be at this particular time darling.” He gives you a sly smile, one probably meant to comfort you. 

And you lose your breath again and you avert your eyes. You thought you had gotten confident, but you weren’t expecting him to call you that. You clear your throat. And start to mess with a laminated menu on the bar.

“So why exactly are you here tonight? You know this isn’t the first stop we’ve made, right?” You ask, trying to change the subject. Or at least to get him talking.

“We’ve been hanging back most of the night. Nothin’ suspicious has happened, but a few o’ you idiots are getting a little too far gone. Ava’s father sent us specifically to watch her. The rest of the group is just an added bonus. Don’t wanna make any rich parents mad, do we?” He asks the last part rhetorically. 

This time he’s the one looking away. He takes a drink while looking off. You can’t read the expression on his face, but it isn’t quite neutral. He looks like something is on his mind. 

“You don’t seem all that excited to be babysitting a bunch of adults. Why do you even take the jobs offered by Ava’s family? I assume there’s other things you could be doing.” After speaking you realize your tone seemed a little snippy. You hadn’t meant for it to come out rudely, but it did just a tad. You really were on a roll tonight. 

You didn’t want to necessarily influence the man to stop taking the jobs, but you were curious. You could tell by what he was wearing that he had money. In previous interactions, you had drawn the same conclusion. You weren’t extremely up to date with the latest fashion trends when it came to wealth, but you did know that the watch on his wrist looked very similar to one that Elijah had. And you knew it wasn’t cheap. Plus the extensive wardrobe the man seemed to have also led you to believe he was pretty well off for himself.

He half turns his head back to you, side eyeing you with a scrunched eyebrow.

 “A little touchy on the subject are we?” He asks you before setting his drink down. He rubs his chin before turning his face to yours.

 “Ava’s father pays well. The jobs easy, quick and usually clean. Easy money.” He pauses and you watch his eyes move down to your lips and back up to your eyes and then down to the drink back in his hand. “It's an added bonus that sometimes you idiots can be entertaining.” 

“Well. I’ll agree that they – we – can be quite entertaining. I can imagine it can be a little obnoxious at times.” A few times come to mind.

Like this year's New Years Eve party held at Ava’s. Camilia had drunk way too much champagne and had eaten quite a few shrimps. She was in the midst of a nasty break up with a pretty popular actor and had seen the reports of him attending a party that night with his co-star. A smile comes to your face as you remember the look of absolute horror on Tangerine’s face when Camilia had thrown up on him. You remember Lemon’s gasp.

Or the one time you, Ava, and Leon had somehow ran into one of Leon’s father’s old clients who had recently gotten out of prison. You three had been out shopping at the beach when the man confronted the group. Calmly at first, but very quickly drew a gun and began yelling at you three. Tangerine and Lemon had resolved the situation as quickly as the man had appeared.

Or one of the most recent events. For Ava’s birthday, she had thrown a huge, fancy party out of the country. Some place in Ireland, with almost a Bridgerton theme. Somehow you and Tangerine ended up in a room on the outskirts of a castle while the party was booming in the distance. You remember how close he had gotten to you. How close his face had gotten to yours. How he had stared at your lips for what felt like ages as you spoke. You remember the silence that happened after you had finished speaking, and the way his eyes darted quickly back to your eyes to just as quickly return to your lips. You also remember the way he had drawn away from you as Jordan had busted into the room looking for Ava. You weren’t one hundred percent sure, but you were pretty confident that if she hadn’t done so, Tangerine would have kissed you.

“I wouldn’t say ‘obnoxious’. Not all of you at least.” Tangerine says. He seems to have a distant look in his eyes. You wonder if the memory of you two alone in Ireland had come to mind. You hope it had. 

Eventually you and Tangerine began reminiscing on some of the funnier moments that had happened while him and Lemon had been present. 

You two had moved from the bar to a small table in a corner. Tangerine was still able to see the rest of your group, most importantly Ava. Even then, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways as Ava had convinced Lemon to join the current round of bowling. The group didn’t seem like they were going anywhere and neither did Lemon. 

The place was still as loud as ever, but in the corner it was a little easier to hear each other. The neon lights that were reflecting off of most everything in the building was giving Tangerine a glow. The lights were giving his hair a darker complexion than normal, while highlighting his blue eyes. If you weren’t sitting so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the details. But fortunately for you, you were. 

You were close enough to him to smell his cologne. He smelled almost like citrus. Or maybe like sandalwood? Or maybe like the inside of a linen closet? You weren’t exactly sure of the scent profile, but he smelled good. He smelled familiar. 

“Do you remember Ireland? That birthday party was insane! I don’t know how you two kept up with Ava that week, it felt like every ten seconds we were going somewhere new!” You let out a small laugh remembering just how crazy it had been. 

Tangerine rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “You honestly think I would forget? I felt like I needed a leash on that girl. I wish she would have stayed around me or Lemon like you had during the trip.” His eyes light up a little as he scans your face. 

You hadn’t realized you had been so obvious on that trip. Most of the friend group had paired off in Ireland and you remember hoping to talk more to Tangerine on the trip. You hadn’t made it your priority of course, but during down times or sightseeing activities you had hoped to hear his thoughts.

The air got thin once more. You realized that you both were leaning in towards each other. You were sitting in your chair sideways. Your right elbow propped on the table, with your hand propping your head up turned towards Tangerine, your back turned to the group’s table. Tangerine was turned towards you, almost leaning into your space with his right arm draped over the back of your chair, his hand hung in the open air between the back of your chair and your side. His left arm draped into his lap. Your legs sandwiched in between his. 

You hadn’t realized just how physically close you too were. Talking with him and drinking water seemed to have sober you up some. Realizing how close you were to him also helped to sober you up in the moment. Your eyes trailed to his lip as you went to speak.

“Well, I’d never pass up the chance to be around you all day.” You say, a little softly as you had grown even more distracted by each and every centimeter of his face. You think about how soft his skin would feel in your hands. 

You readjust yourself, trying to redirect your thoughts. You sit up a little straighter and let your hand that had been previously holding up your head fall into your lap. It unintentionally brushes Tangerine’s knee and you watch it slightly move, almost shocked by the touch. Sitting up like you were now meant that your face was even closer to his. You really hadn’t realized how much you two were leaning into each other. 

You're staring at Tangerine’s lips when your eyes rush back to his as he places a hand right above your knee. You watch as he begins to lean in, his eyes on your lips. Before you can even process that his hand is practically on your thigh. He stops an inch away from you, his eyes moving up to meet your glance. His eyes meet yours for only a second before they move back down to your lips, and once again back to your eyes. You could feel him let a breath out, nearly a scoff.

“You’re extremely drunk.” He says dryly. and goes to pull away from you.

“I was dead sober in Ireland.” You quickly remark before retaking the distance he had put between the two of you. You plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“I haven’t forgotten about Ireland either.” You say softly as you move one of his curls behind his ear that had fallen when you kissed him a little too forcefully, the fear of missing another chance had brought some adrenaline into your system. Your hand makes its way to the back of his head as you begin to play with his hair. “I’ve been hoping you would be around more after that trip. Especially after the party.”

The hand Tangerine had set previously on your knee quickly moves to your face as he gently goes to hold your chin before lifting it up. This time h initiates the kiss. He’s more gentle than you were. 

You grin into the kiss, only slightly thinking about how contrasting the situation was. The harsh man kisses gently, yet you, a more soft person kissed him like you were a thirteen year old kissing their crush at the school dance, afraid to be seen.

His hand moves from your chin to hold your head as he pulls you in more. Once he’s pulled you in as close as he can, his hand trails to your waist where it rests. Both of your hands quickly move back to his head where you pull him in closer.

His mustache tickles you, but you don’t care. All you could think about was how his head felt in your hands. How you wanted to be closer to him. How his hand was pulling your waist in. How his lips felt against yours. How you felt like you were breathing for the first time this entire night. 

Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers dig into your waist. You feel yourself becoming warm as your attention is drawn to the fact that his skin is touching yours. Both of Tangerine’s hands are now holding on to your waist, pulling you in even more if it’s possible. One of his hands begins to trail up your back. It feels like he’s trying to find a better way to pull you closer to him, but at this point if you two got any closer you would be in his lap. 

You accidentally let out what you think is supposed to be a gasp as one of his hands runs back down your spine, returning to your waist once more. This doesn’t faze Tangerine as he takes the short break from your lips to move both his hands now to either side of your head as he pulls you back into the kiss, not without a short and breathy ‘shit’ that escapes his mouth. 

You aren’t sure who initiates the harsher kiss, but you didn’t care. As Tangerine bites your lower lip, you let out a breath and you grab onto the neckline of his unbuttoned shirt. Tangerine plants one last hard kiss onto your lips he pulls away, and leans into your ear before.

“I’d slow your breathing down, we’re about to have a visitor, yeah?” He plants a kiss on your cheek and pulls his head back to look at you before wiping your lips to get rid of some spit that had been left from when you two had separated. “Gotta make sure you look good too, dear.” 

He takes a deep breath in, clears his throat and seats back against his chair, while running both of his hands over his head in an attempt to put his hair back in place after you had tussled it. He then leans back in his chair, giving a smile at the unwelcome visitor.

You wipe your hands over your face, and then over your own hair in an attempt to self soothe. You take a deep breath yourself as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. You wipe your hands down the thighs of your jeans before turning to meet whoever was coming towards you.

“Hey, you guys ready to go? Lemon is rounding up the rest of the group now. Ava and Elijah finally got bored with bowling.” Naomi says before finishing the drink she had in hand.

“Right. We’ll be over shortly.” Tangerine says, raising his eyebrows at Naomi and turning his attention back to you. You give her a smile and a nod to acknowledge her. As she goes to walk back to the table, you turn yourself back towards Tangerine.

“Glad we weren’t interrupted before this happened. Hope it was worth the wait.” Tangerine says giving you a sly smile.

You let out a half hearted laugh. If you thought nothing was in your brain beforehand, it was even more empty now. All you could think of now was when you would be alone with him again. 

“How long did you say you and Lemon were staying this time around?” You manage to get out, looking up at him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you also wanted to do this again. 

Tangerine chuckles as he fixes his shirt from where you had grabbed it as he goes to answer, “I’m in the city for a couple of days. Off work too.” He tucks a curl behind his ear. “You have something in mind that could keep me busy?”

You nod your head as you give out a short laugh. “Ask me out to a proper dinner and I think we could figure something out."

************************************************************************

A/N: hey home slices, so here's this. i recently rewatched the movie, and am about to read the book and thought i would write something. who knows if i'll write more, but it was fun lol if you liked this, check out my master list! --> HERE

************************************************************************

[birgittesilverbae]

Prompt: just a highly tattooed Beatrice. Anything. Maybe she’s in a band, maybe it goes to her teenage rebellion, maybe it’s your dads au and Bea always wears sleeves and one day Ava finally sees her ink… idk. Anything with tattooed Bea.

thanks for the prompt!

//

Beatrice hasn't worn short sleeves in the time Ava has been back. 

True, it's closing in on winter, but Malaga in November is barely any cooler than Brienz had been in June, and back then Beatrice had taken every possible opportunity to go sun's out, guns out.

Ava watches, curious, for some sort of sign, some clue to what Beatrice is keeping under wraps. She's been back for a week, almost, and they've kissed in quiet corners and in the back of the chapel, and once, in a fit of daring, in the confessional, Ava in Beatrice's lap admitting to myriad sins ("the Bloody Marys sold well, I just hated making them" and "I bought us new towels because I used ours to try and smother a stovetop fire" and "I spent half our time in Switzerland trying not to touch myself to the thought of you"). 

But they haven't gone any further than furtive makeouts and some over-the-clothes heavy petting – which, she has to remind herself, would be a mind-blowing development for June Ava. And Beatrice hasn't even rolled up her sleeves, which… The thought of Beatrice's forearms had constituted, like, a solid 64% of Ava's will to live while on the other side, but it's fine. She's fine. She can be very cool, very normal and definitely would absolutely not suffer if she never got to see Beatrice's forearms again.

She'd be totally fine. 

It's on day seven post-return that Beatrice slips up. She's been waist-deep in a van's engine compartment in between shouting matches with Mary across the garage, and stray curls of hair are slicked to her forehead with sweat. She rubs at her face and then frowns, unbuttons the placket at her wrist and starts to roll up her right sleeve. Ava feels like a Victorian gentleman about to pass out over the mere sight of a sliver of skin. She doesn't mean to, but she takes a step forward over the threshold of the garage, drawn towards the revelation of Beatrice's bare skin like a moth towards a flame.

There's a faint blue glow that grows brighter as Ava approaches, and Beatrice's head snaps up. She fumbles with her sleeve for a moment, an adorable crease between her eyebrows, but the cuff is caught on the knob of her elbow. She settles for linking her hands behind her back instead.

"Ava!" She chirps far too brightly for someone Ava had heard calling Mary a 'piece of fucking work' not two minutes past.

Ava takes another step closer. "Beatrice," she replies, soft. She'd raise a hand, but this already feels far too much like approaching a wild animal. 

Apt enough, though, as Beatrice's eyes very noticeably flick towards the exit. "Show me," she says, just as gently.

Beatrice's shoulders droop. "You would have found out sooner or later," she concedes. "It was only a delay of the inevitable in the hopes I would be better prepared to discuss it by the time the conversation arose."

She swings her arms forward, left hand finding the pocket of her coveralls, right coming out in front of her until her forearm is on display for Ava. 

It's a starburst shining divinium blue, a double handful of lines broken by tick marks emanating from a central black point. Ava can't help herself, doesn't want to stop herself from reaching out and dragging a fingertip down one of the lines. Beatrice's skin is warm beneath Ava's touch and the divinium sparks bright in response to the Halo's nearness.

"What is it?"

Beatrice clears her throat. "Pulsars are spinning neutron stars that blink on and off like lighthouses. When the Pioneer 10 and 11 spacecraft were launched, they were sent bearing a plaque with this map on it – a map of the position of known pulsars relative to our sun. A map of lighthouses, guiding the observer here." She taps the central dot. "That's here, that's home, that's us," she says, in that slightly removed tone Ava associates with the oh-so-common occurrence of a 'Quotes with Beatrice' event. "On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives." Beatrice inhales shakily. "It was stupid, really, but I thought maybe it would help guide you back to us. Back to me. Back home."   

[totowlff]

chapter four — distance education

➝ nobody said that learning remotely was easy

➝ word count: 2,9k

➝ warnings: smut, d/s dynamics, masturbation, use of toys

➝ author’s note: i know it wasn't what you expected, but i hope it's what you wanted.

The sun was shining brightly over Melbourne that morning. The movement in the paddock was intense, an indication that this would be a day of intense activities on the track. However, Toto's good mood was not due to the conversations with George and Lewis or the positive prognosis for the sessions that would take place later. It was because he received, early in the morning, a good morning message from Ava.

Contrary to what he would have liked, she had stayed working in London. He even tried to convince her to go with him, but Ava refused, stating that the distance would serve Toto's learning process and she hoped he would take it seriously. And by taking it seriously, she meant that he should completely control his sexual desires and impulses.

It was simple in theory.

But, in practice, it was the biggest challenge of his life.

It started during the flight to Australia, when Ava sent a photo of a drawer full of lingerie and babydolls, stating that she was undecided which one to wear for their next meeting. With his lower lip between his teeth, he typed that he didn't mind that, since he knew she would look wonderful in all of them.

“Wrong answer”, Toto thought, as he stared at the photo Ava had sent.

In front of a mirror, her face was hidden by her cell phone, giving all the attention to the babydoll made entirely of lace that showed off all her curves, leaving practically nothing to his imagination. Letting out a heavy sigh, he typed out the first compliment he could think of before looking back at the image, practically mesmerized.

— Buying new pajamas? — someone asked next to him. When Toto looked up, he found the mischievous smile of Frédéric, who had the newspaper he was reading on his lap.

— Huh?

— Is that babydoll for you? — the team principal rephrased his question, pointing his head at the cell phone screen, where Ava's photo was still in display. Staring at the image again, Toto felt his face heat up.

— No, no, I'm not buying anything — he replied quickly.

— So you're just watching porn, got it — Fred said, before letting out a laugh, making Toto flinch, feeling his cheeks even hotter than before.

— It's not porn, it's just a photo.

— Very sexy by the way…

Noticing that the Frenchman was still staring at the image of the woman on the screen, he tried to hide it, preventing him from seeing more. It sounded counterproductive, but Toto couldn't help but feel a certain anger when he thought about Ava getting the attention of other men. It was a selfish feeling, not to say naive, since he knew the possibility of a dominant having several submissives, but Toto wanted him to be the only one in her life.

— Who is she?

— Who are you talking about? — he returned the question.

— The woman, who is she? — Fred insisted.

— Nobody.

— Your new girlfriend?

— What if she is?

The Ferrari boss smiled.

— Consider me surprised since no one has entered that ice heart of yours in years — Fred said — I think the last woman you introduced me to was your sister and that was almost ten years ago.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— You really are an idiot.

— That means you have a girlfriend, then — the man murmured, before looking to the side — Christian, did you know that Toto is dating?

Turning his face, he noticed that Christian Horner was heading back to his seat on the plane. He was returning from another trip to the bathroom, courtesy of the food poisoning he had arranged to disturb him during the flight. However, his indisposition did not prevent a sparkle from appearing in his eyes, as well as a malicious smile.

— Does he? What's her name?

— It doesn't matter to you — Toto murmured, while a new notification from Ava flashed on the phone’s screen. That made him quickly take the device in his hands, expectation growing in his chest — Actually, it doesn't matter to both of you, I shouldn't have said anything.

As if realizing he was anxious, the two team principals laughed.

— Apparently she's a good catch — Christian murmured, as he sat in his seat — Is she younger than you? Be careful not to bore her with your old man things, women don't like that.

— Old man things?

— Yeah, things old people do…

— Like shooting at plates in the English countryside? — Toto questioned, a certain irritation crackling in his voice. Christian narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed together for a few seconds.

— Like being an asshole on a plane — he said, before muttering a curse under his breath and turning around, walking quickly towards the bathroom. Toto's eyes met Frédéric's, who was shaking his head.

— You two are completely insufferable — he muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Toto simply closed the partition between his cabin and the plane's aisle. After taking a deep breath, he turned his attention to his phone, which still had Ava's notification shining on the screen. Unlocking the device, he came across a new photo of her, this time, with an even more daring piece. With gold details that resembled the reflections of the sun on sea water, the fabric did little to cover her nipples and pussy. “Do you think this one is better?”, the caption of the image asked him.

Before he could type the answer, a video appeared on the screen, his eyes widening at the sight of the thumbnail, his cheeks unbearably hot. Running a hand through his hair, Toto shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, without taking his eyes off Ava's tour of the piece, revealing the completely open back with a giggle.

— Maybe I'll use it while I suck you, so you can have a privileged view — she asked in the video, with a suggestive tone — Can you imagine seeing my pussy dripping with lust in front of you, begging for your cock inside it? Tell me what you think, little boy.

“This woman is going to kill me”, he thought to himself, putting down his cell phone and finding a not-so-subtle bulge in his pants. As he covered himself with the blanket he had been given by a flight attendant hours before, Toto couldn't help but be impressed by the power Ava had over him, even though she was hundreds of miles away.

And it had only been the beginning.

There hadn't been a day that she hadn't sent him a provocative or suggestive message. The photos of Ava's lingerie collection were already accumulating in his private folder, as were the videos and audios, all with a domineering tone that made him think about taking off his own pants and taking the matter into his own hands once and for all.

— You can't, Toto, you can't — he repeated to himself one night after dropping the phone on the bed, the image of Ava's new skirt, the back of which was made of buckles on a transparent tulle, shining on the screen. He had given his own pleasure into her hands, and that meant it was no longer up to him to decide about it.

The worst thing about it wasn't the distance or the maddening lust, but rather that all it took was one stern look from Ava for him to confess every time he had touched himself without her permission. And the consequences would be brutal, he was sure.

It was that context that made the arrival of Friday and the free practice sessions a real relief for Toto. In that situation, all he needed was something to occupy his mind, other than the impressive amount of lace and satin pieces that Ava had in her closet.

After waving to a circuit employee and taking a selfie with a boy waiting near the structure set up for the Mercedes, he entered the space with a smile. Saying a cheerful good morning to the catering team and making a joke with one of the engineers who was having coffee there, Toto headed to the small office set up for him.

Dropping his carry-on bag onto the table, he had just sat down when his cell phone began to vibrate in front of him. When he picked up the device, Toto felt a shiver run through his body when he read Ava's name on the caller ID, along with the word FaceTime. “What does she want now?”, he asked himself, before touching the green circle.

— Good morning, little boy — Ava's teasing voice sounded through the cubicle. Taking up practically the entire screen, her face had a sweet, almost innocent smile.

— Good morning, ma'am — he replied, pausing for a few seconds as he remembered the time zone — Good evening, I mean.

— How are you? Excited for today's sessions?

— I'm fine, ma'am. Excited may be too much, but yes I am looking for it.

— That's good — Ava murmured.

— What about you?

— I'm fine too — she replied — Just a little bored.

— Bored? — Toto said, giggling nervously. Ava nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips, neatly painted a shade of pink.

— Yeah. So I decided to do something.

— To call me?

— No — she laughed — I called you to show you what I'm going to do.

Toto didn't have time to ask before Ava walked away from the camera, revealing that she was wearing only black satin lingerie, with no lace or any transparency. Running a hand over his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a familiar shiver run through her body as she climbed into bed, neatly dressed in black sheets. Above her fabric, the silver glow of something slightly curved caused the air to catch in his lungs.

— Ma’am…

— I know you've spent the last few days thinking about what it would be like to be inside me for the first time. I know you thought if it wouldn't be better to just ignore everything and fuck your hand while imagining you're here — she said, opening her legs dramatically. If the panties didn't allow Toto to have any glimpse of Ava, the opening in the middle of it allowed him to see her pussy — Isn't that right, little boy?

— Yes, ma'am — he murmured, mesmerized by the arousal that oozed from her folds and shone in the soft light of the room.

— I thought you might have an aperitif, you know? Since you're so far away from me but you want to touch me so much — Ava said, with a devilish smile on her face as she picked up the silver object next to her. The constant buzzing made Toto conclude that it was a vibrator.

— Ma’am…

— Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have my body to yourself for one night? — the words dripped like honey from her lips as Ava slid the flat tip of the toy down her inner thighs — Being able to touch me without any restrictions or rules? Feel my heat completely surrounding your cock? Hear my moans in your ear, begging you to go faster, harder, to fill my pussy with your cum?

Ava's narration drew those scenes almost automatically in Toto's mind. Her eyes full of desire and her lips parted, as if in a silent request for him to speed up, for him to give her what she wanted. And Toto was willing to give whatever his mistress wanted, even if it cost him his own sanity.

Bringing the vibrator close to her pubis  itself, Ava's eyes closed momentarily, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs, as if the promise of something good was on the horizon. And Toto never wanted so much to be the person who made her feel good.

— Yes, I did — he replied, as the silver tip of the toy drew slow circles on the upper portion of her pussy — I always think about how to please you, ma'am.

— If I told you to satisfy me now, what would you do, little boy? — Ava asked, her eyes squinting at her cell phone as she slid the toy through her own folds.

Toto shifted in his seat, feeling his cheeks getting even hotter. At that point, he didn't need to look down to know that he was hard from that completely explicit image of Ava, coupled with her words and teasing.

— I would start with your breasts, ma'am.

— Do you like my breasts? — she asked, with the shadow of a smile on her face.

— Yes, ma'am. I love them.

— And what would you do with them?

— I would kiss, lick and suck your nipples until they were hard — he replied, as he saw her hand move up her torso towards her bra, squeezing the soft skin. The air was trapped in Toto's lungs, his eyes analyzing that scene that seemed to have come from one of his most erotic dreams.

— And then? — she grumbled softly, moving the toy up and down against her labia minora, as if teasing herself.

— I would slide my mouth along your skin until I reached your pussy. And I would take my time to discover everything you like. I would discover the ideal rhythm, the position of the tongue, whether you like me to use my fingers or not…

— Yes — Ava sighed, her tone almost revealing vulnerability.

Faced with that scene, Toto had the impression that pleasure was the place where she stripped herself of titles and rituals. And seeing her like that, so absorbed in the sensation she was causing in herself with the vibrator, made him place one of his hands over the bulge in his pants, as if that could help alleviate the unbearable lust he was feeling.

That was Ava's effect on him.

— Would you make me come with your tongue, little boy? — she murmured, her eyes meeting his through the screen.

— No, ma'am. You deserve more, much more.

Ava smiled.

— What do I deserve, then? — she asked defiantly, the tip of the vibrator resting firmly against her clit, her eyelids fluttering with the pleasure coursing through her body.

— My cock, ma'am. You deserve to feel him inside you, filling you and making you moan with pleasure. You deserve to enjoy the best I can give you.

A whimper escaped Ava's lips as she slid the vibrator into her own opening, rubbing the chrome tip against herself.

— Would you be gentle, little boy?

— Would you like me to be gentle?

She smiled, inserting the toy inside herself with a moan.

— Fuck — Toto murmured, his hand squeezing his own member under the fabric of his pants, as she arched her back, her eyes closed tightly.

— This… Yes, fuck, yes — Ava whimpered, her legs shaking as she sped up the toy's thrusts. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she found Toto's image on her cell phone, witnessing that scene practically frozen, as if any word or movement could ruin what was happening.

And in that split second, she shattered.

He was sure he could have accompanied Ava and cum in his own pants like a teenager from what he had just witnessed. Seeing her writhing with pleasure was something sublime, perhaps more pleasurable than anything she had ever given him behind closed doors.

It was the effect Ava had on him.

She was still catching her breath when Toto finally broke the silence.

— Ma’am?

— Hm?

— Would it be my turn now? — he asked, his voice sounding a little too naive.

Suddenly, Ava sat up in bed, one eyebrow raised.

— What made you think you would have your turn?

Toto blinked.

— Ah, well, I just made you cum…

Ava let out a giggle.

— Little boy, you're so innocent — she said, in a condescending tone — First of all, you saw me cum, you didn't make me cum. They are two different things.

— But I guided — Toto tried to argue.

— You watched, little boy — Ava interrupted him abruptly — And that's different from guiding, something you wouldn't do since I'm the dominant one here. Secondly, I think your insolence is reason enough for me to deny your request.

— Ma’am, I just…

— You questioned my intentions and wanted to take a place that doesn't belong to you.

— Please, ma'am...

— Have a good day, Toto — she said, before ending the call.

Staring at the screen in shock, he couldn't believe what had just happened. The best minutes of his life had turned into the worst in a matter of seconds, and the blame was solely on his anxiety to please Ava.

— Holy shit, Torger — he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made Toto adjust himself in his chair, inviting whoever was outside to enter. A few seconds later, Bradley's face appeared through the crack.

— Ah, you're there, Toto — he said — I thought you hadn't arrived.

— I just got here, Brad — he answered, still feeling his cock painfully hard inside his trousers — Any problem?

— No, no, I was just in a room next door and I heard a strange noise.

Toto felt his hands get cold.

— Strange noise?

— Yeah, like a whining or something. I thought it might be someone with a problem, but I didn't find anyone...

— There must be a television on in one of the briefing rooms, no?

— I think it's difficult — Bradley replied with a small smile.

— Why?

— I don't know if any of the televisions here have access to porn.

Toto blinked, his stomach dropping.

— Well, check it anyway. We never know if we are going to be victims of a virtual attack or something like that — he managed to say, trying to hide his own discomfort.

With a nod, Bradley closed the door.

And Toto was sure that he had barely escaped.

[jtl07]

Hello JT, it's great to have you back this week!! To your writing shenanigans of this week I would like to submit the word "birthday" :D

glad to be back as well! thank you for starting us off with this prompt! gonna go with Switzerland because why not

"happy birthday!"

Beatrice blinks as she takes in the scene: mini streamers floating around her, Ava with a party hat on her head and a noisemaker curling and uncurling from her mouth as she dances in front of her, a a box of brightly colored cupcakes on the kitchen table.

"Ava -"

"wait! your hat!"

Ava dashes off, leaps over the couch - which would be impressive if it didn't give Beatrice a heart attack - ruffles around in a bag Beatrice can't quite see, then bounds back with a plastic rainbow colored top hat in her hands. stuck onto the front is a piece of paper with the words "birthday girl" scrawled in what she knows is Ava's nicest handwriting. there's streamers hanging off the brim and glitter everywhere and then Ava stepping into her space, stretching the elastic band connected to the hat underneath her chin.

it's a lot. it's ridiculous. it's -

"Ava, it's not my birthday," Beatrice says as Ava affixes the hat atop her head. Ava hums distractedly, focused as she is, the tip of her tongue sticking out from the corner of her mouth as she adjusts then readjusts the hat. strands of newly shorn hair have stuck against Ava's neck, like it did this morning after they'd warmed up during training, and Beatrice is suddenly aware of how warm it is, here in their apartment, here so close to Ava.

she clears her throat and tries again. "Ava -"

"shh, just a second." Ava fiddles with the hat for a moment more then hops back, her grin wide and free and Beatrice can't help the way her own lips get caught up in the motion.

catches herself, sighs. she shakes her head - feels the streamers brush along the tops of her shoulders. "it's not my birthday," Beatrice repeats, gently to spare Ava's joy.

but Ava's grin doesn't falter. instead, she nods, "I know. well, I didn't know it wasn't today because you won't tell me when it actually is but now I know!"

Beatrice feels the hat tilt as her brow furrows. "then why...?"

Ava shrugs - though it's more of a wiggle as her grin grows mischievous. she takes Beatrice's hands and pulls her toward the kitchen table. "why not? why do we have to wait until it's your actual birthday? i figured we could pick a random day and celebrate it while we're here."

Beatrice allows herself to be tugged along as the words sink into her. she knows what Ava means - that she means here in this town, in this apartment; here just the two of us (because even though Beatrice can't admit it, she can see it - the way Ava looks at her when she thinks Beatrice isn't watching, the way Ava's smiles have become heavy with longing, the way her own hands ache until her palms rest somewhere on Ava's skin; how they both linger around each other).

but Beatrice also hears: while we're still here; while we're here, alive.

"besides," Ava continues, picking up one of the cupcakes and pressing it into Beatrice's palm, "you deserve to be celebrated everyday, Bea."

Ava smiles at her, honest and open and Beatrice thinks: so do you. because here we are, living lives we never thought we'd live; here we are, living. (and for the first time, Beatrice understands what it means to have something to celebrate)

before she can do or say, well, anything, Ava gasps, "candles!" and she dashes off to leap once more over the couch. Beatrice laughs, heart burning fierce and fond as she promises to tell Ava - her birthday, her feelings - someday, soon.

[thcfantasyfactory]

closed starter for @bywhatitfedon because he's an insatiable slut 💕💕💕

Bodies moved to the beat of the music, echoing throughout the club. The brightly color-changing lights cascaded down on a group of five girls on the dance floor, all dressed in skin-tight dresses and low-cut tops, showing off as much skin as possible. They were obviously celebrating something, and by the looks of one of the blondes wearing a sash that had "bride" written across it, it was a bachelorette party.

Fiona had one arm wrapped around one of the other girls, their chest's pressed up against each other as they swayed to the music. She spoke into her ear, then proceeded to the bar, arm in arm with the brunette female.

"Two shots please!" Ava called out to the bartender, flashing him her prettiest smile while also leaning against the bar in such a way as to make her cleavage pronounced, obviously using her breasts as a way to get his attention.

[forever-rogue]

Reader is new to Hawkins high but she immediately grabs Eddie's attention..she is always fully rainbow and colorful, pink hair, but she hasn't made any friends yet. So instead of sitting at a table she just chills by herself along the walls of the cafeteria, writing to herself or sometimes dancing like nobody can see her. But one day Jason and his friends start laughing at her which already annoys Eddie but she isn't paying attention, but then Jason comes and takes her notebook which turns out to be a song book and after making fun of her in front of everyone she decides to perform one of her songs putting him on blast! (I recommend "Weapons" by Ava Max)

AN | I changed the prompt just a little bit but I hope you still enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language, Injury [mentions of blood]

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie had noticed you from the moment you'd arrived at Hawkins High.

Of course he did. He couldn’t have ignored you if he tried. Brightly colored hair and clothes, so outside of the norm in Hawkins but so much more like him. Different. He liked everything he could see about you, from your style to your face (those eyes and that smile? yeah - he was a goner) to how kind you appeared to be, despite how rude others were. 

But - but - just because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, didn’t mean that he actually worked up the courage to talk to you. No, that was a whole other level of confidence that he didn’t quite possess just yet. Instead, he opted to study and observe you from a comfortable distance. 

He wouldn’t quite call it a crush or an infatuation, Eddie Munson was just…curious. Curious about the new girl that had effortlessly captured his attention. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If anyone knew how hard it was to fit in, it was Eddie. He’d been a social outcast and pariah since he was in middle school and decided that he didn’t want to be like everyone else. Sheep, he’d called them. He didn’t want to be a sheep. 

The good thing that came out of being different was that the friends he’d found were just as different and unique as him. What more could he have asked for? 

You appeared to be in a similar situation, unfortunately it didn’t seem that you had any friends - at least not any at Hawkins High School. He liked to imagine that you had plenty of friends out in the real world, away from this hell hole. 

But still it didn’t help to make him less sad about your current, daily situation. He thought so often about coming to you and approaching you, and he ultimately decided that one day he would. He just had to work up the courage. 

And…somehow he managed to do it, not that much later. 

It was a sunny and breezy temperate spring afternoon when he found you sitting outside during lunch. You leaned up against one of the buildings, your brown lunch bag next to you and your book in hand. From the angle you were holding it, he couldn’t read the cover, but he decided that it probably was something good. 

He walked over to you, trying to be as discrete and normal as possible. To anyone else, Dustin would insist later, he looked extremely suspicious and anxious. Yeah, you made him nervous, but in ways he didn’t quite mind.

“H-hey,” he smiled and held his hand up in a meek wave when he was standing in front of you. You looked up, blinking at the bright sunlight and the boy standing in front of you. Your nerves shot up as you watched him, unsure of his sudden presence, “I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“I know,” you hoped you didn’t sound like too much of a bitch as you narrowed your eyes at him, offering your own name in return, “did you need something?”

“N-no,” his voice cracked and he wanted to sink into a hole and perish. But at least the look in your eyes wasn’t hateful or mean, “I just wanted to say hi. So…hi.”

“Hi,” you repeated, your worry and nerves slowly dissipating into amusement, “it’s nice to meet you properly Eddie. I’ve seen you around.”

“Y-yeah?” he must have been dreaming. You had noticed him, just as he had noticed. He almost cringed when he hoped your impression hadn’t been too bad, “I, umm, well I just wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted to hang out with me and my friends or sit at our table, that’s totally okay. You know, throwing it out there just in case. Not that I think you need anyone or anything but I…I’m going to stop rambling.”

“I know what you mean, Eddie,” you promised softly, “it’s hard being the new kid, especially as a senior, so I appreciate the kindness. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

“Great, yeah…cool,” he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly as his fingers tangled in his curls, “well, umm, I’ll get going. But I’ll see you around?”

“See you around,” you promised sweetly and fuck, your smile made his knees absolutely weak.

He turned to walk away, a bit of a spring and pep to his step. But before he got too far, he quickly turned back to you, “I really like your hair!”

With pink cheeks and soft eyes, he turned around and almost ran off towards his friends. You watched him go with a bemused expression on your face; Eddie Munson wasn’t too bad at all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t end up taking Eddie up on his offer. Not fully anyway, convinced of your own belief that you weren’t worthy of his time and would eventually just bore him. Instead it was a string of stolen moments and run-ins that left your face warm and butterflies in your tummy.

Sometimes it was in the morning when you’d both arrive at your lockers and spent a few minutes catched up. Other times it would be a shy hello in between classes. A quick conversation after school on the way to your cars. From the bits and pieces you learned about him, you knew that you liked Eddie. He was kind, funny, a metalhead and a huge nerd, basically…totally your type. But you’d never push your luck that far. Instead you kept up just enough of a wall to consider him a friend but nothing more. 

The rest of the student body…wasn’t as easily convinced that you were okay. Most of them avoided you like the plague and left you to your own devices, but a few were not so kind or considerate. And, naturally, it was exactly the people you’d have expected to be jerks that were. It was almost too obvious - didn’t these types of people ever think of new material?

For the most part you were able to avoid and ignore the few rude jocks, but sometimes it was not as easy. Especially not when people were in your face and being absolute dicks for no reason. The worst being Jason Carver and his group of cronies; they really were the worst, you know?

You did nothing to annoy them or be rude to them or even be in their way. You pointedly made an effort not to be anywhere around them but that wasn’t good enough for them. 

If you were sitting outside and reading or doing some homework, one of them would walk by and make a rude comment about your choice of clothing or your hair. If you were in the cafeteria, eating lunch by yourself one of them would walk by and make rude sounds or comments about what you were eating. In class, they whisper and snicker about you whenever they could do so without being caught. 

They did everything to try and bring you or make you feel bad; but you handled it with grace. There was no point in getting down to their level - the way they treated you was a reflection of their own issues and insecurities. And on top of all that, you’d be out of that horrible school and hopefully town within a year. You could survive that.

Apparently that was not good enough for them - they wanted to get some sort of reaction from you and were willing to do almost anything to get that. Normally you could have played it but eventually you’d reached your breaking point as well. What was that old expression? Action-reaction - for every action there is an equal reaction in response.

It was another sunny day that found you sitting in the grass, under the shade of an old oak tree as you finished up some class work. You had your walkman with you, headphones on and music playing just loudly enough to block out most of the noise from the outside world. 

You didn’t hear anyone come up; if it hadn’t been for the shadows looming in front of you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed anything. Once you pulled off the headphones and looked up, you were startled when you met Jason Carver’s sneering expression. 

“Hey freak,” you sighed internally; didn’t he have anything knew to come up with? He crouched down so he was eye level with you and you hated the look in his cold blue eyes, “all alone again?”

“Can I help you with anything, Jason?” you tried to keep your voice level but you couldn’t hide the slight nervous edge to your voice. 

“Like I would ever want anything from you,” he grabbed your chin in his hand causing you to stiffen up as he appraised you, “so pathetic. You know, you could almost be pretty under all that ridiculous makeup and hair. There’s only one thing girls like you are helpful for so I guess you could help me out-”

“Stop,” you tried to push his hand away from you but that only seemed to make him more angry, “please just leave me alone. I don’t know what I did to you or what you think being a dick to me will get you, but just go away. I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Stupid bitch,” he shook his head before laughing cruelly and pushing your face away, “I don’t want anything from you and you haven’t done anything to me except exist. And honestly, I really don’t like you, so.’

“So…” before you could say anything else, he grabbed the worn and well loved journal. Your heart dropped into your stomach when he snatched it out of your reach, "give that back!"

"No, I don't think I will," there was a wicked smile on his face and it made your skin crawl, "you're always scribbling in this - what could be so interesting about this?"

“Nothing,” you were lying but he didn’t need to know about that. It happened to be your most personal confidant and friend at times, and contained all of your innermost thoughts, secrets, and things you’d written such as poetry and songs. It wasn’t that anything was terribly embarrassing - maybe the stuff you’d written about Eddie beingyour crush - but it was the fact that it was so personal. The nerve this boy had, “but it belongs to me. Now please give it back to me.”

“Why would I-”

“Why don’t you just fuck off?” your savior, not that you believed you needed one, came in the form of one Eddie Munson, stalking over with a fuming expression, “or pick on someone more your speed.”

“Cute,” he looked between the two of you, “the freaks have each other. Defending your little girlfriend, Munson? How precious.”

“You know what would be really precious?” Eddie’s voice was low and dangerous as Jason stood up to his full height. You thought about just slinking away, but you weren’t going to leave Eddie alone to fight your battles for you, “you with a broken nose and blood face.”

“You think you’re so fucking f-”

Eddie’s fist collided with Jason’s face before you knew it, a loud crunch sound reaching your ears. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Jason stumble back and clutched at his face, whimpering in pain. You didn’t necessarily condone violence, but it was still funny to see him panic. Eddie’s first was throbbing but it was worth it to him, “I was right! A messed up face really does suit you!”

“I can’t believe you did this!” he sounded muffled from behind his hand, “you’re going to be in so much trouble - both of you! Take your stupid notebook back!”

He tossed the journal on the ground and you let out a sigh of relief at the fact that you got it back. You scrambled to grab it and stuffed it in your backpack, zipping it tightly shut. Jason had run away, cursing and muttering under his breath as the two of you stood there in shock. 

“Umm,” you stood up and turned to the curly haired boy, exchanging a surprised look, “t-thank you, Eddie. I didn’t expect….any of that.”

“Me neither,” he admitted sheepishly, “I’ve never actually punched anyone before. That shit…felt great. And hurt.”

“Oh,” you looked at his hand and saw that it was already bruising and bloody, “are you okay? Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he insisted with a small smile, “the real question is, are you okay? I was coming to talk to you but saw him and figured that wasn’t a good sign.”

“He usually leaves me alone but today was just…different.” you shrugged lightly, “I don’t engage him normally and he leaves but something must have happened to make him even worse.”

“He’s a piece of shit,” he stated as you nodded in agreement, “he shouldn’t treat anyone like that. Maybe he’ll learn. At least for now.”

“I do so,” you smiled softly, “he, ugh, he stole my journal. It’s really special to me and I’m glad he didn’t get a chance to take it.”

“Seriously,” he too was curious as to what was in your journal but wouldn’t ever even dream of taking it or even asking if he could see it, “he’s just a jerk but hopefully he’ll leave you alone now.”

“I’m sure he will,” you agreed softly, “is, umm, that offer to hang out with you and friends still open?” 

“O-of course, always,” he grinned eagerly, “that’s actually what I was coming over to ask. No pressure, but if you’re wanting to.”

“Definitely,” you reached for your backpack and swung it over your shoulder, “hey, I hear that you’re in a band?”

“I am,” he was trying not to seemed too eager but inside he was practically jumping up and down, “just you know, a little side thing but yeah.”

“I’m actually a bit of a songwriter on the side,” you gently nudged him with your elbow, “that’s what a lot of my journal is - songs. I’d love to show you some of them sometime and pick your brain.”

“Totally,” his heart was practically beating out of his chest with excitement, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Cool,” the two of you exchanged shy smiles.

“Cool.”

 This was definitely going to be the beginning of something beautiful.

[piratekane]

Trick or treat!

I keep seeing people post snippets of WIPs so in the spirit of having already eaten too much of kids' candy to even begin to think of another single morsel of it, you can have that as a trick and treat. Treat, because new fic is always fun but also a trick because who knows when this will ever be finished.

-

“I forbid you from going.”

Ava blinks at Beatrice calmly, like she’s reigning in every ounce of her patience. “You can’t forbid me from-“

“I do,” Beatrice says over her. “I forbid you from going.”

“Beatrice.”

“Ava.”

Beatrice has that haughty voice going, the one she inherited from her mother. It grates on Ava’s nerves. She can remember the way it felt to be talked down to because she had a smudge on her nose or dirt under her fingernails or she brought Beatrice home spelling like fish from the market.

Beatrice doesn’t usually employ that particular talent on purpose. She must be really worked up.

So Ava takes a deep breath instead of snapping and smiles politely. “Beatrice, you have the letter right there. It says I need to report to Arq-Tech’s headquarters in two days.”

Beatrice’s hand tightens on the letter. The paper wrinkles under her grip. “How are you going to get there?”

Ava had thought about that. She was going to ask Beatrice, actually. Because she doesn’t mind when Beatrice picks her up, not like she minds when the nuns do it. Not that she thinks the nuns would even offer. Because they’d probably just roll her down the stairs on Sister Frances’ say so.

But Beatrice is forbidding her to go. And that throws a monkey wrench into her plans.

“A taxi.”

Beatrice does a remarkable job at not rolling her eyes, but Ava can see that she wants to. “A taxi.”

“Yeah, Emil. He probably still drives taxis, doesn’t he? He always gave us a ride home so we beat curfew.”

“That was 12 years ago, Ava.”

Ava huffs, frustrated. “Beatrice, please. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.” She drops to a hushed whisper. “I can help. I can be useful. I can… I can walk.”

“If it works.” Beatrice’s voice goes shrill. “You don’t know if it will.”

“I have to try.”

“It could kill you.”

“Better than dying here!” It explodes out of her mouth before she can stop it. She clamps her lips together too late. Beatrice’s eyes widen, her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t turn away.

Ava slowly loosens her jaw. “Beatrice. I’m wasting away here. I know it, you know it. This is my chance to do what everyone else is doing, to fight back. Against those Nazi-“ She stops when Beatrice’s eyebrow arches up. “And against the life I’d be stuck living without this opportunity.”

Beatrice holds steady for a moment more before her shoulders drop – just enough for Ava to see the defeat laced in the motion. She doesn’t think about gloating this time, her eyes burning too brightly with want to do anything else.

“Fine,” Beatrice says softly. She sits and Ava exhales. “Fine.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Beatrice pick up her hand. She smooths a thumb against unfeeling skin. “But you’re not going alone.”

[call-me-maggie13]

It’s not unusual for Ava and Diana to come over to Beatrice’s. It’s not even unusual they stay for a few days. 

They’re on day three of their current stay over, Ava’s just left for work and Beatrice is slicing an apple for Diana in the kitchen while the little girl plays in the living room. Lilith is about somewhere, pretending to be annoyed at the unexpected visit. Beatrice hasn’t seen her in hours, assuming she’s left to pester Camila or something of the sort.

Beatrice starts to call Diana for her snack when Diana makes a protesting noise. Beatrice furrows her brows and gathers the apple to bring to her, quietly moving through the kitchen and peeking into the living room where she finds Lilith taunting Diana with a piece of the puzzle Diana’s attempting to put together without any help. She’d nearly gotten violent when Beatrice had simply gathered the pieces she’d dropped from the coffee table.

Beatrice doesn’t say anything, partially to give Diana a chance to stand up for herself and partially to see what Lilith is doing. Lilith is mean, that’s something Beatrice has known since they were small children, but she’s not cruel. Especially not to children.

Especially not to Diana.

As much as Lilith pretends Diana’s a nuisance, she loves her. Beatrice sees it in the way Lilith does a hazard check, as Beatrice calls it, every time Diana arrives, searching all reachable surfaces for anything sharp or dangerous. She sees it in the way Lilith feigned reluctance when she’d gone out to the shops and came home with baby proofing, spending hours on the floor covering outlets and securing the cabinet doors and even fastening a two centimeter block to the lid of the wooden toy chest — she’d later scolded Beatrice for not considering how the toy chest could be a suffocation hazard before pretending again that she didn’t care about Diana. She sees it in the way Diana’s snacks are always well stocked, even when she hadn’t had a chance to go to the grocer.

Lilith can pretend all she wants, Beatrice sees how fiercely she cares for Diana. Just because she’s silent doesn’t mean her actions go unnoticed.

Read more below the break or here!

Lilith offers the puzzle piece back to Diana before jerking it away, fingers curling around it protectively before she opens it when Diana starts to scold her. Her palm is empty and Diana watches her quizzically.

"What’s it?" Diana grabs Lilith’s hand and inspects it closely, flipping it over and back as she searches for the missing puzzle piece.

"Oh, Diana," Lilith starts tenderly, running her opposite hand through Diana’s hair. "Who did your hair today? It was your papa, wasn’t it?"

Diana sits back and frowns at Lilith, attempting to swat Lilith’s hand away.

"Wait, what’s this?" Lilith turns Diana’s head slightly and pulls away from her with the puzzle piece extended to her. "When’s the last time you cleaned your ears, gremlin? You’ve puzzle pieces in there!"

Diana takes the puzzle piece slowly, eyes wide and mouth agape as she probes her ear with her free hand. Diana watches quizzically while Lilith pull a small ball from her pocket and do some sort of magic trick that switches the ball between hands, Diana completely enthralled in the magic. When Lilith does some sort of trick that sends the ball hurtling through the air in Diana’s direction, she shrieks and collapses into a fit of giggles.

This is when Lilith notices Beatrice watching her and she smiles brightly for no more than half a second before groaning and donning her faux annoyance.

"Well, no more shenanigans, Diana. The warden has arrived and I must return to my prison cell." Lilith tosses Diana the little orange ball and ruffles her hair, rolling her eyes at Beatrice’s gentle smile. "You need to do a better job keeping an eye on your kid, I totally stole that puzzle piece with no effort."

"It’s not exactly difficult to steal anything from a two year old." Beatrice laughs and turns to face Lilith, grin widening when Lilith scowls at her. Suddenly, she remembers being eight years old and crying in the bathroom at some political affair her parents had forced her to attend, stuffed in a stuffy pastel pink dress, trying desperately to hide how puffy and red her face was growing. "I forgot you could do magic tricks."

Beatrice remembers a time when Lilith had found her crying in the toilets at some political affair her parents had dragged her to. Lilith had offered a handkerchief to dry her tears only when Beatrice had tried to take it from her, she found the end tied to another then another and another. She pulled and pulled and pulled until she had a pile of colorful cloth at her feet and she was giggling. 

Lilith had also offered to "spill" cocktail sauce on Beatrice’s parents that night and, though Beatrice had denied, her mother still somehow got a giant cocktail stain on the side of her dress. Lilith still denies it was her but Beatrice knows.