#a comic book a patient gave me

[mouthfulofdirtandmoss]

#chaos

i think what’s on a person’s nightstand is very telling so reblog this and put in the tags the things you have on your nightstand

[skeltnwrites]

At Least It’s Not the End of the World ♡

After protecting the kids from demodogs and sentient tunnel vines with Steve, a weekend babysitting Holly Wheeler together is supposed to be simple. That is until feelings neither of you expected start to make things way more complicated.

gn!reader, takes place in between seasons two and three, people who fight monsters together to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff 16k

── .✦

It doesn’t take long to remember why Holly is your favorite Wheeler. She’s patient and sweet, amazingly level-headed for a preschooler, and her manners could put some adults to shame. Compared to her siblings, Holly’s a little sweetheart. And a mama’s girl through and through, clinging to Mrs. Wheeler more often than not. 

Like now, she wriggles in her mom’s lap, scrunched over a coloring book at the dinner table. She squints at her box of crayons and purses her lips— choosing colors is hard when you’re five. She hasn’t said a peep since you arrived, but in the foyer, she greeted you with a clumsy wave and a sheepish smile. 

“It would be Friday afternoon to Monday morning,” Mrs. Wheeler explains, stirring a glass of lemonade with a curly straw. “I’d ask Nance but she’s having a girl's weekend.” 

You glance at Steve. You know girl’s weekend is code for spending the night with Jonathan Byers. But if he knows it too, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at her words. In fact, he’s relaxed under Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze. He’s sitting in a chair he’s sat in dozens of times before, talking to a woman he sees more frequently than his own mother. 

You don’t know her as well as he does, but you aren’t strangers by any means. 

“And Mike, well, he’s not old enough to watch her for that long. But he’ll be staying over at Joyce’s so you don’t have to worry about him,” she pauses to sip her drink. “I’d pay you, of course. I don’t know what your schedules look like— I know you’re probably busy with the new job, Steve— but I figured since it’s a few days, I’d offer it to you both.” 

Steve flashes an honest smile and leans forward. “Are you kidding? I’d hang with this squirt for free. I’m actually off this weekend so it works out.” 

Mrs. Wheeler beams, eyes springing to yours. 

“Yeah, I could help too,” you shrug. You also happen to be free this weekend and the extra cash would be nice. 

“Great! You both are so lovely. Oh, I was so worried, I kept telling Ted– well, it doesn’t matter now.” Her bracelets clink and clash as she reaches across the table to cover your hand with hers. “You’ll have to keep an eye on these two. She becomes quite the riot when her Stevie comes over.” 

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in defense. “She owes me a rematch at Candyland so I can’t promise anything.” 

Mrs. Wheeler’s fingers retract from yours, landing on the end of Holly’s pigtail. “She’s really missed having you over. Asks about you still.” 

Holly ducks her nose into her paper, pink traveling up her ears. 

“Is that right?” Steve teases. “I’ll have to swing by more often.” 

“Please. You’re welcome anytime, Steve. Whether Nancy’s here or not.” Her attention drifts to you. “And the same goes for you. Mike won’t stop talking about that comic book you gave him.” 

A smug grin surfaces. Out of all of the kids, Mike is a tough one to please. 

“I’ve never been away from Holly for so long. But I trust you guys.” Mrs. Wheeler pecks Holly’s crown to hide a wobbly smile, her sentence spilling out in a breathy string of words.

She really does trust you both. It would take another set of hands to count the number of times either you or Steve had driven her kids home safely. This is just different. She loves all of her kids equally, but Holly’s her baby. 

Holly’s eyes cast up at her mention, bright as a sunlit gem. 

Mrs. Wheeler smooths her daughter’s sleeves down her shoulders. “But Holly’s a good girl. Right, Hollybear?” 

She turns to bury a toothy smile in her mother’s shirt. 

Mrs. Wheeler is meticulous as she presents each and every detail of Holly’s routine. From car seat safety to emergency contacts to allergies, she covers every question you might have before you have it. 

Steve’s a good listener but he’s cursed with a very short attention span. Mrs. Wheeler lost him somewhere around Holly’s sudden aversion to mac and cheese, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You’ll fill in the gaps for him later. 

This won’t be the first time you’ve babysat with Steve. Dustin roped you both into hunting his pet lizard-turned-alien which very quickly escalated to protecting four children from not one, but several, vicious aliens. Safe to say you two are experienced enough to handle one kid for a couple of nights. 

You haven’t seen Steve much since then. It’s summer now. The demodogs and sentient tunnel vines feel much more like a dream than something that actually happened to you these days. Steve works at the Scoops in Starcourt, or so you’ve heard several times– Dustin only reminds you about every time you see him. But despite being as close to death as you’ve ever been beside Steve, visiting him at work feels strangely wrong. Like crossing a line that neither of you ever drew. 

You would not consider Steve Harrington your friend. You’re friendly, as you might be with a neighbor or coworker, but you don’t talk much outside of ​​world-ending, portal-to-another-dimension kind of events. He’s family in a weird sort of way, bound by the shared trauma and unspoken loyalty— like someone you only see at family reunions, familiar enough to care about but still a stranger in most ways. High school was a long blur and your circle of friends couldn’t have been farther from his. So you don’t know Steve, not really. But of what little pieces of him you have come to know in the last year, he’s not half bad at babysitting.

ᯓ★

On Friday afternoon, you park your car beside Steve’s shiny BMW in the Wheeler’s driveway. You take the house key that had been slipped from Mrs. Wheeler’s key ring to yours and unlock the front door. And you find that inside, it’s completely silent. Holly’s quiet as a mouse but she’s still a kid and kids make noise. 

Your bag drops onto the floor beside Steve’s shoes as you toe off your own. When the kitchen and living room turn up empty you jog upstairs. Alarm sinks in on the last step where you still hear nothing. No shouting, no laughing, no crying, no nothing. 

There’s a large window in the hall upstairs, dividing Nancy’s room from Mike's and Holly’s. In your panic, you miss the suspicious lumps in the drapes that frame it. 

As you brush by, Steve rips the curtain across the rod and shouts, “Ha! Gotch– Oh.” 

Your entire body jerks, fear cinching every nerve. “Christ! Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Your nostrils flare with hot air as you shove him, “You scared me!” 

His open palms hover in between your chests, unsure how to help. “I thought you were Holly. Sorry.” He gives you an apologetic once-over before a breathy chuckle escapes. 

“It’s not funny. All the shit we’ve been through. God.” He’s lucky you didn’t punch him. A part of you still wants to. 

“Mommy says that’s not a nice word,” Holly says from behind you. 

You turn, shoulders sagging in relief. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.” 

“Stevie, I was supposed to find you,” she whines incredulously, hands planted on her hips. 

“We can go again. I’ll find a new spot.” 

Her frown mends as quickly as it appeared and she skips back to her room to count. 

“Sorry,” Steve reminds you. “Help me find a spot to hide?” 

Soft eyes, a softer smile. It’s hard to stay mad when he looks at you like that. “Okay.” 

Twenty seconds isn’t very long to hide. Especially when Holly counts as fast as she does and when you spend half of your time standing in the hall. So you end up crouched in the corner of Mike’s closet, Steve arched over you, trying his hardest not to crush your toes. 

“Jesus. Does this kid even wash his clothes?” Steve whisper-shouts. “It smells like something died in here.” His palm snaps to the wall behind your head, the flesh of his arm warming your ear.

“You actually couldn’t have picked a worse place. Oh my God.” You press the neckline of your shirt over your nose. Steve’s wearing enough cologne to drown out the stench of dirty socks, though it’s choking you all the same. 

“We had like three seconds. I panicked!” 

You’re glaring at him but only a fraction of light filters in from underneath the door so you’d guess he doesn't see. 

The closet is the first place Holly checks when she barges into Mike’s room, but you’ve never been happier to be caught so fast. 

“My turn!” She glows in victory, pigtails swishing like yellow ribbons as she shouts. 

Steve huffs. “Let’s take a break. We’ve been playing for like an hour.” 

“Can we play tag?”

“In a little while. I’m tired.” He pinches her neck playfully until she squirms out of reach. “How’d you have all that energy?”

She shrugs with her whole body. “I dunno. I’m a kid.” 

A laugh bubbles out of your throat. When your eyes flit to Steve you find him already smiling at you. 

“What about something a little more chill,” you suggest. “We could color?” 

“Bracelets?” 

“You want to make some?” 

She nods, “I can’t reach them. The beads are on top of my closet.”  

“I’ll get ‘em,” Steve offers. “Come show me where.” 

You fan out her multitude of craft containers across the kitchen table. Beads, charms, strings, all neatly filed away. She pops open a lid and plunks down across from you. Steve takes the seat at the end in between. 

“What color bracelet are you gonna make?” you ask, raking through the rainbow of options. 

“Umm, yellow. No– green!” 

“Nice. Here’s a cute little frog charm. Want that?” 

“Mmmm. No, thank you.” 

“I’ll take it,” Steve says, stretching his hand toward you. 

You drop it in the center of his palm where it clinks against a handful of blue beads. They’re pretty and vibrant like the sea. A flicker of an idea pulls you to grab your own handful. 

Holly slides four beads onto a string, two lime green and two baby pink. She drags the other end up and they all slip off, bouncing in separate directions across the table. You smack one before it dives onto the floor and Steve catches another two mid-air. 

“Can you help me tie it?” Holly asks from under her chair, searching for the fourth. 

“Sure.” Steve swaps his bracelet for hers, triple knotting one end. “I like these colors.”

She resurfaces with a grin, voice lilting as she speaks, “Do you like purple?”

“Yeah, purple’s okay. Do you?” 

She nods, pinching a lilac gem and examining it. 

You slip into a peaceful rhythm. The bead bin rattles as Steve digs his fingers in. He murmurs something about sparkles as he shuffles. Every now and then, you peek up at him. And each time, you find that he’s fully absorbed in this, rubbing his chin or poking his tongue out in concentration. You’d even bet he’s having fun. 

“Can you tie it on me,” Holly asks when she finishes. 

Steve takes her hand gently, fingers engulfing her tinier ones. “This good?” He tugs the strings across each other at her permission, sealing it with an extra knot for good measure.  

Holly starts a second one as you finish your first. You hold it up triumphantly for them to see– red and blue beads between every white pearl. 

“Very patriotic,” Steve teases. 

“It’s for you. For scoops. These are the colors right?” 

He softens, eyes rounding like brown buttons. “Wait, really? Thank you. Wow.” He inspects it fondly where you release it in his palm. “Will you tie it?” His arm shoots over to your side of the table. 

You feel his gaze shift from the bracelet to your face as you lace it. And you pretend that it doesn’t make your cheeks burn. 

“You don’t have to wear it to Scoops if you don’t want to,” you mumble, releasing his wrist. 

“What? Of course, I’m wearing it. No one’s ever made me a bracelet before.” 

Your lips bend up into your cheeks as he leans back in his seat. He twists and turns his arm, looking it over again with a similar expression. “Now, it was supposed to be a surprise, but since I’m almost done, I actually made this for you.” He scoops up the piece he’s been working on and waves it in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow and smirk. “You sure you didn’t just decide that since I gave you one.” 

“I didn’t! I was planning this the whole time! Right Holly, didn’t I say that?”

“No?” 

“Holly, come on now.” He elbows her arm. “Supposed to back me up.” 

“But you didn’t,” she giggles. 

“Holly doesn’t lie, Steve.” 

“Okay, I didn’t say it. But I thought it. I was gonna give it to you I swear.” He jams another couple of beads on his string. “See! Look, it has your favorite color on there.” 

“It has every color on there.” 

“One of which is your favorite.” 

You roll your eyes as he takes your wrist. His hands are warmer than yours, softer than you expect too. He stills as your palm flips face up. A jagged, fleshy ridge runs from the bottom of your pinky to the meat of your thumb. Steve was there when you got the scar. He’s never said it, but you know he blames himself for it. A demodog had you pinned in that damned junkyard school bus so Steve pushed you out of the way but you caught yourself on a broken window. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His head dips in a silent nod. He isn’t sure whether to believe you or not. Either way, he feels sorry still.

His bracelet is a statement piece for sure. It truly has every color under the sun and a random assortment of charms and shells. But it’s sweet that he gave it to you. Even if he totally did not plan to do so at first. 

He makes a second bracelet for Holly with purple string and butterfly pendants. Holly gives her next one to him as thanks, then begins on a third for you. 

Steve stands from the table. “I’m hungry. Grilled cheese okay for dinner Holly?” She nods as do you when he asks you the same. 

Your focus drifts between him and the necklace you’re starting for Holly. He coasts around the kitchen naturally, like you imagine he would in his own house. But it’s a bizarre sight. Steve Harrington cooking you food, in the Wheeler’s kitchen out of all places. 

And he’s about as good as a chef as you expect him to be. He’s clumsy and uncertain, even dropping a spatula on the floor with an, “Oh, shi–ugar…” But he kindly refuses to accept any help or advice when you offer. 

He eventually swings around the kitchen island, brimming with pride, one plate in each hand. They’re set in the space you’ve cleared and you quickly see that the sandwiches have been cut adorably into stars. You just as quickly see– and smell– how burnt they are. They aren’t black, they’re edible for sure. But Holly’s five, and polite as she is, most kids would never willingly eat this. 

So you aren’t surprised when she looks at it in disgust, borderline horror. 

“Look, it’s a star,” Steve beams, oblivious. 

Your chest aches with the desire to laugh and an equal pang of sympathy. 

Holly shakes her head, visibly toning down her expression for his sake. “Can I have something else?” 

“It’s good! I promise, just try it.” 

She slowly shakes no again. 

“Steve,” a peel of laughter escapes your lips. “It’s burnt.” 

He scoffs. “It’s not that burnt.” 

Your mouth twitches in a funny little line and your eyes leap between him and the plate. “It’s pretty burnt, Steve.” 

After a moment of silence, he sighs and picks both plates back up. 

“Wait,” you shout, “I’ll still eat mine! Mine isn’t that bad. You did a good job!” 

He sulks at you. “You’re just saying that. I’ll make new ones.” 

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll eat this one. I don’t mind.” 

He plants the plate in your grabby hands and spins back toward the stove. 

Round two is much better, still star-shaped, and a few shades lighter. Holly thanks him more than once while eating it without you even asking her to. If only Nancy and Mike were as precious as her. And Steve eats the first attempt, now cold, and admits that it tastes, “slightly burnt.” 

You take the empty plates to the sink to wash while Steve and Holly lug the jewelry kits back upstairs. You meet them in Holly’s room after. They’re playing house, Steve the dad, and Holly the mom, with four babydolls for children. She appoints you to be the neighbor when you join. 

You knock on her bedpost, pretending it’s her front door. “Holly, in one hour you’re gonna take a bath.”

Her head pops out from under the blanket. “Can we watch a movie before bed?” 

“Sure, but we have to do bath now if you wanna watch the whole thing.” 

“Okay!” She kicks the sheets away, jumping off the bed in a race to the bathroom. Steve winces as she steps on his hand. 

“Do you need help?” he asks, sprawled across the bed, socked feet hanging over the edge. 

“No, I got it. You can rest in peace now,” you joke, halfway through the door. 

Holly is self-sufficient enough to bathe herself so all you have to do is supervise. You find a matching polka dot set of pajamas in her dresser and a towel under the bathroom sink. And she gets dry and dressed all by herself, Miss Independent. 

“So there’s The Little Mermaid, E.T., Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory…” Steve trails off, kneeling in front of the entertainment center. 

Holly hands him a VHS tape, “This one?” 

“Ooh, good pick.” Steve feeds the tape into the player and rewinds it. 

You pat the couch cushion beside yours as Holly skips over. Steve hits the light before flopping into the recliner with a satisfied groan. The Jungle Book glows to life on the TV, casting an indigo wash over each of your faces. Holly curls into herself, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them.

“Here,” Steve chucks a blanket from the basket at his side. 

“Thanks.” You scoop it off the floor where it missed the couch and billow it out over you and Holly. “Don’t fall asleep, Harrington.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve folds one leg over the other and crosses his arms, eyes glued to the screen. He reminds you of Mr. Wheeler sitting in his recliner like that. It’s alarming how attractive you find it. He’s not even doing anything worth staring at. You force your eyes back on the TV. 

The credits scroll up the screen for a whole minute before you realize the movie has ended. You aren’t asleep but you aren’t totally awake either. Steve’s not far off by the looks of it and Holly, on the other hand, was out like a light halfway through. Her head presses into your upper arm, her hand scrunched in the blanket on your thigh. The weight is nice, making it all the harder to pick yourself up and get her to bed. 

But thankfully Steve’s there to help. He twists in his chair until his back clicks, smiling when he catches sight of you and Holly. “I’ll carry her up,” he whispers. 

You gently work Holly’s stubborn fingers from the blanket as Steve stands. He pushes the rest of the fabric into your lap before bending to scoop Holly up. 

“Be right back,” he says, starting toward the stairs. 

You tug the blanket higher, seeking lost comfort in its folds, though it doesn’t compare to the warmth Holly provided. 

Steve pads back down not a minute later. He stops on the last step, hanging over the railing. “You awake?” 

“Barely,” you mumble. 

Steve plods up to the front door to check the locks. He orbits into the kitchen and then back around to the living room to turn the TV off. He’s being the responsible one. You aren’t sure why this surprises you. 

“Come on,” he opens his hand toward you. 

Your arm snakes out from under the blanket, and he lifts you effortlessly. You’ve seen how strong he is, how he fights, but it still surprises you. 

“I was gonna suggest another movie but I don’t think either of us’ll make it.” 

You catch a yawn from Steve. “I know. I’m so tired. It’s not even late.” 

He hums from behind you on the stairs. “Yeah. Who knew this’d be so exhausting.” He’s only being slightly sarcastic. There’s an obvious truth to what he implied, but at the same time, it is so much harder than you realized it would be. 

You stop at the landing, sluggishly turning to face Steve. “Well, goodnight, I guess.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You splinter into opposite ends of the hall. Steve let you have Nancy’s room for obvious reasons, though he wasn’t thrilled about crashing in Mike’s bed. He’s probably better off on the couch after seeing the kid’s closet. 

You change into cozier clothes and untuck Nancy’s quilt. Like with Steve, you and Nancy aren’t really friends. It’s strange being in her room, settling into her bed. And it’s almost stranger that Steve is sleeping across the hall. Yet, there’s an odd comfort in it— being surrounded by people who went through the same thing you did. 

ᯓ★

There’s thumping in the hall– footsteps, too light to be Steve’s. You fight the urge to go back to sleep. Holly needs a babysitter. But it’s not an easy feat, not when you’re swaddled like a baby in blankets much softer than the ones you have at home. You’re warm and it’s so quiet it feels like a gift; that is, until you remind yourself that kids and quiet don’t usually go hand and hand. She could be answering the door to a stranger, scaling the counters, setting the kitchen on fire, the possibilities are endless. 

You force your heavy eyes open and flinch as a much brighter pair come into focus. 

Holly bends over you with this innocent endearment you cannot possibly be mad to be woken by. “Told you, Stevie,” she says. 

“No, you woke ‘em up, goofball.” Steve lingers at the foot of the bed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a faded Olympics tee. You’ve never seen him in pajamas before, or anything quite like it. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and rub your eyes for a better look. 

“Sorry,” he supplies. His voice is still raspy with sleep and his oh-so-perfect hair shoots up in wild peaks. The sight makes your chest buzz. “She said you had to get up to.” 

You redirect your attention to Holly, pinching the neckline of your shirt back over your shoulder as you sit up. 

“Can we have eggs?” she asks you. 

“Sure.” 

She traps her lip between her two frontmost baby teeth. “Five?” 

“Five eggs!” Steve chides. “Just for you?” 

She turns to nod at him, smile blooming. 

He wears the same joy, ruffling her already unruly bed-head. “What are you a linebacker?” 

She giggles, clueless as to what he’s talking about. 

“Let’s start with two and if you’re still hungry you can have more,” you compromise. 

You are undeniably a better cook than Steve, but the bar is low after yesterday. You serve scrambled eggs and unburnt toast. Holly looks at her plate like she hasn’t been fed a day in her life and she shovels spoonfuls of it in her mouth like it’s her last meal. 

Steve watches her with an anxious frown. “Smaller bites, Holl.” 

She nods but doesn’t exactly slow her pace. Steve chases your eyes, knocking your ankle with his when you don’t look. He gives you that funny face parents make. Help me out. 

You shrug. “It’s just eggs. Babies eat eggs.” 

He cycles through several emotions—frustration that you won’t back him up, disbelief that babies eat eggs, and a lingering fear that she might choke. But he stops himself from asking all the what-ifs, he trusts you. 

Holly swallows half of her glass of chocolate milk in one go. Steve looks mildly horrified. 

“My God. She’s like a little human vacuum,” he mumbles through a mouthful of toast. 

You snort into your glass. If Holly heard him, she’s too preoccupied to care. 

After breakfast, Steve sets her up in front of the TV to watch cartoons while you clear the table. He disappears into the basement in search of a board game but comes back with some deflated, plastic thing. 

“What happened to the board game?” you ask. “What even is that?” 

“It’s a kiddie pool. Let’s go outside. It’s nice out.” 

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” 

“Me neither. Just wear that.” 

You wrinkle your nose down at your pajamas. “Go see if she wants to.” 

He smiles, retreating back into the living room. Shortly after, he shouts, “She said yes!” Footsteps pound up the stairs, followed by a second shout, “Don’t run!” 

Mrs. Wheeler calls the house phone and is pleased to hear your good report. She reminds you several times to apply sunscreen to Holly’s ears and that there’s an extra can in the upstairs bathroom. You wrangle Holly over to put her on and promise to call back before bedtime when she refuses to hang up. 

You sift through your bag, changing into the closest thing to swimwear. Steve takes forever in the bathroom, which doesn’t surprise you one bit. He comes out in a crisp white tee, way too expensive-looking for a pool day, and a pair of red gym shorts. 

“What are you, the lifeguard?” you joke. 

His hands snap to his hips. “Uhh, I’ll have you know I’ve been a certified lifeguard for two years, so yeah, actually.” 

You roll your eyes, brushing past him for the extra can of sunscreen. “Are you ready? Holly’s waiting.” 

“Yeah. Let me go blow up the pool. I’ll be outside.” 

You fix your hair in the mirror and tuck a few towels under your arm before heading downstairs. Holly’s already outside, criss-crossed in a big lawn chair and watching Steve with incredible boredom. He stands barefoot in the grass, the deflated pool pressed against his chest. He pulls away from the air valve when he notices you, quickly capping it with his thumb. 

“You okay?” you ask, laughing lightly. 

He nods, red-cheeked and breathless. “Think there’s a hole in it. Been blowin’ for like five minutes.” 

“Huh,” you drop the towels and take one end of the limp plastic. “Try again.” 

He funnels more air inside, it dispurses evenly underneath your palm. You don’t hear any air wheezing out so you turn it over for further inspection. 

“Oh, Steve. Here, look.” 

He pops his mouth off and follows your pointer finger. A second valve at the bottom, unhinged and releasing his hard work steadily. 

“Oh, you’re kidding me. Why’d they put one under there?”

You shrug, plugging it back up. “Holly, let’s get some sunscreen on so your mom doesn’t kill us.” 

Holly hops off the chair and skips to your side. You mist her skin in several layers, lathering a generous amount over her ears. When you move onto yourself, she grabs her basket of toys and climbs into the dry inflatable. Steve retrieves the hose and releases a cool stream into the pool, splashing Holly’s feet.

She squeals and scoots back. “Cold!” 

Steve’s thumb eclipses the opening so the water bursts out in wide a fan. He trains it at Holly, spraying her until she’s soaked and screaming. 

He’s giggling in a way you’ve never heard. Genuine, open-mouthed reels of laughter. You hate to admit it, but it’s really cute. So infectious you can’t help but join. 

He glances back for your reaction, pleasantly satisfied. And your smile incites a great idea. He swings the hose around, aiming it straight at you. 

“Steve!” Your arms shoot out to block the attack but it’s no use. 

“What?” he says, the epitome of innocence. 

Your eyes narrow but a smirk prevails. “Oh, you–” 

Holly tackles the back of his thigh with a scream. Steve stumbles forward and the hose slips from his grasp. 

You lunge for it before he even realizes what happened. And by the time he does, he’s already drenched. “Payback!” You laugh maniacally as he combs his hair out of his eyes. 

He’s laughing too, bent at the waist, still shaking his surprise. But only until he catches your gaze– then comes the glint of something playful, almost daring.

Steve barrels straight through the spray like a bull. He chokes your fingers over the nozzle, bending and bending the line until the water pours straight down your head. 

Holly dashes behind you to wrangle the wiggly tail of the hose, squealing at every layer of mist she catches. 

You and Steve wrestle with it, his hand on your hip, yours pushing his shoulder. He’s gentle but still strong. And his touch sears through the cold water, your skin tingling in his wake. 

The second he sticks the end down the back of your shirt you scream. “Okay, okay! I surrender!” 

He crimps the hose with one hand, smirking deviously. 

“I surrender,” you repeat, heaving through your laughter. 

Holly drops her end of the hose, backing up one slow step at a time. 

“Truce?” 

“Truce,” you nod, stepping up cautiously to shake his hand. 

He accepts your hand, using it to yank you closer and blast you again. You chase and dodge and tackle each other under the blazing sun until your legs feel like jelly. But the game eventually slows as exhaustion creeps in. 

You and Steve collapse in the lawn chairs while Holly lays belly-down in the pool. Water sloshes over the rim onto your toes as she kicks, a brief reprieve from the sticky heat. You're relaxed, but your mind wanders. You keep hoping the Wheelers won’t notice the sudden increase in their water bill. 

“Dustin talks about you all the time.”

You tear your eyes away from Holly, blinking back into reality as you face Steve. “What?”

“Dustin, he talks about you all the time. Kid loves you.” 

“Oh. He’s a sweet kid. Talks about you too. Keeps telling me to come see you at Scoops.”

Steve chuckles, more of a half-hearted puff of amusement than a real one. 

“Which, I’m sorry I haven’t, by the way,” you confess. 

His eyebrows jump, lips parting in soft surprise. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. He’s just being Dustin.” 

You press a blade of grass flat under your heel, as if the right words might sprout from the dirt. “I dunno. I mean, don’t you think it’s kinda weird that we don’t like talk? After everything?” 

The words bounce around Steve’s head for a minute. He fixates on your choice of weird. Weird, like bad? Weird like you want to talk? He can’t decide. And he’s afraid if he opens his mouth, the wrong words will tumble out. 

But he tries anyway, “Honestly, I thought you didn’t want to be friends. You were just so… distant after.” 

You rub the length of your arm, lips creasing into a frown. “Sorry, I was just. I don’t even know. Rattled, I guess.” 

“Yeah, rabid dogs with faces that split open and try to eat you tend to have that effect.” 

Your frown melts, little by little. 

“But we should’ve been there for you more. It was a hard time for everybody.” 

His apology echoes in your mind, the ache like a weight on your chest. 

“You could visit if you wanted to. At scoops. I could get you ice cream for free.” 

But the ache doesn’t stand a chance against the way he makes you feel. 

“Okay.” Your cheeks round with a sincere smile. “I’d like that.” 

He turns his head, as if to hide, but you still catch an echo of your own expression. Your eyes flicker across the contours of his profile, following the graceful line from his ear to his collar, before drifting over the sculpted shape of his arms and the long expanse of his thighs. Steve Harrington is objectively attractive. This isn’t the first time you’ve thought so. But it is the first time that fact makes your head spin. 

Maybe it’s the heat. The sun feels like it's roasting you alive, and Steve’s attractiveness certainly isn't helping. You’re feeling strange, thinking crazy things– the kind of thoughts that only come when you’re on the verge of heat stroke certainly. 

You stand abruptly and the grass sways underneath your feet. But you get your bearings before anyone notices. “Holly, can I come sit in the pool?”

Her eyes pop up, grin distorted underneath the water. She props her elbow up and rests her cheek in the palm of her hand. “What’s the password?”

“Umm, can you give me a hint?” 

A high-pitched hum. “Okay. She’s my favorite character.” 

“Uhh, Barbie?” 

“Nooo.” 

“Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Nooo.” 

“Hello Kitty?” 

“You’re really bad at this,” she giggles. It would be really cute if you weren’t possibly dying right now. 

“It’s Care Bears,” Steve interjects, snapping his fingers. “Uhh, the yellow one. Umm, Funshine!” 

“Yes!” Holly glows like the sun on Funshine herself. “Stevie can come in.”

Steve stands but he doesn’t get in. “Come on, Holl. It’s hot.”

“There’s a new password.”

“Okay, okay. Can I have another hint?” you ask. 

Her tongue curls out to lick the sweat off her lip. “My favorite color.” 

“Purple?” 

“Yes,” she nods and sits up. “But I really like yellow and blue and pink too.” 

You sink into the water, unsure if there was ever a wrong answer. It’s shallow and lukewarm, barely grazing the tops of your thighs, but it’s enough to cool the sun off your skin. Steve follows, and the space tightens awkwardly— the inflatable wasn’t built for three. His knee brushes yours while Holly’s toes nudge your foot, but neither of them seems to mind. 

You cup water up to your cheeks and pour it down your arms. 

“Better?” Steve asks, a droll little pinch to his features. 

He’s staring at you which is definitely not helping but you nod anyway. 

“Why don’t we move to the shade?” He stands before you or Holly agrees, offering his hand to pull you up. 

She races Steve to the nearest tree, though he doesn't stand much of a chance dragging the pool behind him. He refills it with fresh water and encourages Holly to splash you gently while he runs inside to make lunch. By the time he returns, you’re feeling much more yourself. 

“Bon Appétit,” Steve announces, lowering himself slowly onto a towel. He carries three animal-shaped plates stocked with fruit and PB&Js, one in each hand, another balanced on his forearm. 

Holly scrambles out of the water, plopping onto the other end of his towel. You get out too, shaking a second one out to lay beside theirs. 

“Lion or hippo?” he asks Holly. 

She hums for a long time, inspecting each plate meticulously before pointing to the lion.

“Good choice.” He sets the plate in front of her crossed legs and passes you the hippo. Steve takes the polar bear for himself, which notably only has half a sandwich. 

“Where’s the other half?” you ask. 

He takes a large bite, pressing his hand to his mouth to reply, “Ran out of bread.” 

“Here.” You rip one of your halves in half. 

“Thanks,” he says, syllables tangling as he chews. 

Holly watches the interaction fondly before pulling apart her own sandwich. It splits in a jagged line, mostly crust on one half. But happily, she thrusts the bigger piece toward Steve, jelly dribbling down her little fist. 

He tilts his head, a growing smile mirroring yours. “You eat it. I have enough now.” 

She crinkles her nose. “You eat it!” 

“No, you!” He squeezes her slim bicep. “You need to get big and strong.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’m already big and strong.” 

She considers this, giving him an obvious once-over that makes you laugh. “Trade?” 

“Okay, trade.” Steve chuckles, exchanging one of his halves for hers. He licks a stripe across his knuckle where her sticky fingers brushed his. It’s as innocent as the gesture can be but something about it has your cheeks burning in a way the sun couldn’t. 

Conversation tapers off, replaced with an easy quiet. Your stomach is satisfied with the food, but it’s your heart that feels the most nourished, steeped in the comfort of good company. You hadn’t expected to enjoy hanging out with Steve or Holly this much. 

Holly slouches into your arm, stretching her legs across the grass like a bridge between the towels. Her heels push into the pudge of Steve’s thigh, the faintest smirk crossing her lips. 

He squeezes her ankle until it darts away. 

Gradually, she presses again and in turn, he squeezes, but this time he doesn’t let go. She squeals as he drags her down your side. But all hell breaks loose when he starts tickling the bottom of her foot. 

She shrieks, thrashing and squirming against his hold, giggling in between gasps. “Ste–vie!” she cries.

Her laugh is too pure of a sound to be real, Steve thinks. His resolve crumbles, grip faltering. And Holly’s heel slams smack into his jaw. Steve winces, bending away to cradle his cheek. 

You straighten up. “You okay? Let me see.” 

Holly’s legs go limp in the grass, her shoulders tense in your lap. 

Steve’s hand slackens unveiling a red splotch not much darker than his sunburnt cheeks. He meets your eyes with a dismissive shake, “It’s okay.” 

You believe him. It doesn’t look nearly awful enough to make your concern stick. And his face has been through worse. Billy Hargrove painting his fists red with Steve’s blood is one of the things you remember most about that night. 

His attention dips down to Holly. She sniffles, eyes glistening in the sunlight with a frown nearly reaching her chin. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Holl.” 

Holly putters, whimpers drowning the edges of her words. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay! I promise! It doesn’t even hurt,” he reassures, cupping her kneecap. 

You tug her off the ground and she sinks into your arms naturally. Hot tears pave a path down your neck only to dissolve in the fabric of your shirt. You coax her sobs out, one back rub at a time. 

Steve waits until she settles with this pitiful look on his face. “I know you didn’t mean to Hollybear. Just an accident. Hmm?” 

She nods against your chin. 

He strokes the back of her arm, fingers grazing yours where they work. “Please don’t cry.” 

Holly sniffles. 

“You know what might help me feel better?” She lifts a sweaty cheek off your chest as Steve opens his arms. “A hug.” 

She pushes out of your hands into his. He holds her tight, providing one loving squeeze after another. 

This is not how you pictured Steve to be under normal babysitting circumstances. A voice like sweet honey, eyes warm like the sun. He’s very soft, and so undeniably kind. And not just to Holly, but also you. 

Steve hooks the spare towel closer, draping it across her back. “Lean back,” he tells her. 

She avoids his gaze as she does, tears melting away under his touch. 

“You know what I think?” He cinches the towel at her collar like a cloak. 

She hums. 

“I think we should have popsicles for dessert.” 

Holly meets his eyes then, excitement glimmering underneath the droop of lingering guilt. 

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” she admits meekly. 

A smirk thins his lips. “I dunno though. What if we get a tummy ache?” He pokes her belly through the towel. “Maybe it’s not–”

“No– I want one!”

“I dunnooo,” he sings.

“Please, Stevie! You already said.”

“How bad do you want it? Like this much?” He pinches his fingers together, leaving the slightest gap between them. 

“No, no!” She shakes her head, casting her arms out as far as they’ll go. “This much!” 

He sighs loudly, shoulders sagging for the dramatic touch. “Okay.” 

Holly’s arms curl around his neck as he stands. He’s more than happy to carry her, but the added weight makes him groan. 

You trail behind automatically, half enjoying the show and just as excited for a treat. Steve pins the back door open with his foot, returning a smile you hadn’t realized you were sharing. Your cheeks are starting to protest, sore with overwhelming happiness. 

“What color do you want?” 

“Pink! Pink!” Holly shouts in his ear, loud enough to make you wince. But Steve doesn’t react in the slightest to her volume. You’d all taken a piece of the Upside Down with you after El sealed it up. And just when you seemed to forget it, you’d be reminded in the form of scars, nightmares, headaches, and in Steve’s case, hearing loss. 

He opens the freezer, Holly propped on his hip. She’s far too big to be carried like that comfortably but he does it anyway. 

“Pink for Holly. Red for Steve.” He leans back to find your face. “For you?” 

You purse your lips, “Surprise me.” 

Steve stows Holly on the countertop so he can snip the plastic tips. She receives her popsicle first, then you, and finally Steve. 

“Matching,” Holly observes as you sit beside them on the couch. 

Steve crosses his popsicle over your identically red one when you raise an eyebrow. “Look at that,” he says. 

She hums, gnawing on the plastic wrapper. Steve pushes the ice up for her and thumbs away the dribble at the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t seem to notice, but it catches you off guard. Steve’s such a natural at this you almost can’t believe he’s an only child. 

You turn the TV on to an episode of Care Bears as Holly slumps into Steve’s chest, slurping the last of her slush loudly. 

“Sleepy?” you ask when she kneads her eyes. 

“No.”

You chuckle, combing her frizz back. “Okay.” 

“You know, it’s okay if you are sleepy,” Steve mentions, equally amused. 

“I know. I’m not.” Her tone is casual, a portrait of nonchalance, despite the yawn that slips out afterward. 

You and Steve exchange a look of mutual fondness. 

“I’m pretty tired,” Steve declares, reclining into the cushions with a fake yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap.” 

Holly twists against him to watch. It doesn’t take long for her little fingers to poke and prod his lashline.

He peels one eye open, playfully cocking an eyebrow. 

She giggles and pinches the skin closed. 

You’re trapped between nervously supervising she doesn’t poke his eye out and leaving to get a baby wipe for her hands which you imagine are very sticky with popsicle juice. Either way, you’ll be surprised if Steve doesn’t have pink eye by morning. 

“I’m sleeping,” he whines and headbutts her palm gently. 

“Nooo,” she whines back, wedging her hand across his mouth. Delirium is setting in, a nap is imminent. 

Steve opens his eyes, giddy just the same. “Okay. You got me.” 

Holly frees his mouth to swipe a streak of red from his chin. Her tongue pokes out in prime concentration. 

A staggered laugh of disbelief is shaken from Steve’s chest. He hadn’t expected Holly to be difficult, but she’s been nothing short of delightful. She’s sweeter than Mike and Nancy combined and smarter than he thought kids her age could be. For a self-indulgent second, he hopes that his kids will turn out something like her. 

Holly reels back around to lay on her side, eyelids sagging with an inevitable heaviness. Steve draws the towel up to her chin, fixing his palm to her back. You watch her drift off, eyes slipping up every so often. 

When you’re positive she’s out, you cautiously dislodge the popsicle wrapper from her fingers. Steve passes his as you stand. 

One of the many hard things about kids is all the cleaning. Holly’s as neat as a five-year-old gets, and still, every moment of peace is an opportunity spent putting things back where they belong. You head outside to tip the pool over and collect stray towels and toys that didn’t make it back in. 

By the time you return, Steve’s passed out, mouth ajar, head craned back against the couch. It’s not a particularly attractive expression– he’d probably be embarrassed to wake to your staring– but you can’t find anything other than endearment in yourself.  

You shower and change into fresh clothes and end up on the opposite couch to watch TV. But Care Bears isn’t all that entertaining anymore so you rest your eyes for just a second. 

A second turns to several and when you reopen your eyes you discover the clock is two hours ahead of where it was before. 

The silence is only comforting for a fleeting moment before anxiety creeps in. Your eyes flick from the TV, now powered off, to the other couch where Steve and Holly are not where you left them. Nor are they in the dining room, kitchen, basement, or backyard. You take the stairs two steps at a time and nearly trip over a blanket strewn across the banister when Holly screams. 

You’d have kicked her door off the hinges if it came to it but are thankful it’s already open. Holly is perfectly safe, bent over the remnants of what you assume was a pillow fort. 

You release a breath caught in your throat and sag against the doorframe. Steve offers an apologetic smile when he notices. 

Holly glances over but quickly returns to their game. “You’ve destroyed my kingdom!” she shouts, drilling a finger into Steve’s chest. “Off with your head!” 

You’re too stunned to laugh, but a noise of confusion skips out. Steve gawks at Holly in pretend despair, scrubbing any seeping amusement off his lips with the back of his hand. He’s dressed in sweats, Holly in a princess dress. But more importantly, his face has been caked in makeup and his hair twisted into two fluffy knots. 

“You!” Holly yells with a scowl aimed at you. “Hold him down!” 

Steve pleads at your ankles, pressing his forehead to the carpet in prayer. It takes every ounce of you not to break character and laugh. There’s something so surreal about Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in sparkly eyeshadow, kneeling before a little girl to beg for his life. It’s hilarious as it is heartwarming. 

“If I may propose a suggestion!” You counter, equally dramatic. “A trade! For this silly man’s life, we will help rebuild your kingdom twice as big! Princess I–” 

“Queen!”

Steve snorts but she must miss it. 

“My apologies. Queen Holly, I can assure you this new Kingdom will have all of the finest luxuries that royalty like yourself might desire.” 

She takes a second to process the big words. “Fine!” She sneers, diving onto her mattress which is absent of all its sheets and blankets. “Chop! Chop!”

You bite your lip, chasing the fervent smile away. Steve gets right to work, sorting pillows from most to least sturdy. You steal another chair from Nancy’s desk and help Steve double-knot the roof to it. It’s no mansion, but it is long enough for Steve to lie down in, which is a job well done in your book. Especially when you’re under strict supervision and listening to a thread of loud critiques. 

You lift the door flap for Holly to crawl through. “Your quarters, Your Grace.” 

She glances over her shoulder with a wicked, but mostly adorable, expression. “My name is not Grace! It’s Holly! Queen Holly to you!” 

The explanation dies on your tongue because how can you possibly argue with that? You’re just grateful to still have your head. 

After the grand tour, Queen Holly disappears into one of the tent’s offshoots with a handful of stuffed animals she's referring to as her royal guards. 

Steve scoots closer, whispering behind his hand, “I think we need to stage a coup.” 

You lean into his good ear, affection spilling off your tone, “I didn’t know she could be so mean.” 

“Me neither! She must be hanging out with Mike.” 

“Must be.” You grin for what feels like the millionth time today. 

You’re sitting knee to knee, close enough to catch the heat of Steve’s breath on your cheek. You drag the pad of your finger across his cheekbone where teal eyeshadow has been caked on in several layers. “I like this,” you compliment. 

I kinda forgot she put that on.” He ducks his head bashfully, peeking up through his eyelashes. “Do I look pretty?” 

“The prettiest.” 

He receives it as teasing, but it’s true, you do think Steve is pretty. A strong nose, kind eyes, and sure, maybe the hair. But now that you’re inches apart, you notice twin smile lines, a series of freckles down his cheek, and a faded scar across his forehead. You linger there more than anywhere else, under the guise of judging Holly’s makeup job, of course. 

But the silence twists into something less comfortable with each passing second. A brief twitch of emotion flickers across Steve’s face, gone before you can name it. “So… pizza for dinner?” he blurts out. 

Before you’ve processed what happened, Holly shouts, “Cheese please!” 

Steve splinters from your gaze, calling back, “Yes, My Queen.” 

Dinner is pleasantly easy. The pizza’s delivered and paper plates save you from the hassle of dishes after. You eat at the kitchen table, sharing stories and smiles, strangely like a family. 

And after dinner, Holly has a bath; and after bath, Steve whisks her off to bed. You’re left to your own devices for once, a benevolent bout of peace, but still, you can’t seem to relax. 

The spray of the bathroom light paves the hall leading to Holly’s room. You tiptoe up to the door and peek inside. 

Steve’s on the floor, slouched against the side of the bed cradling Holly to his chest. He flinches as your shadow veers across the moonlit wall.  

“Sorry,” you whisper, dropping onto your knees beside them. 

Holly picks her head up, tear tracks shimmering as she turns. Her lip wobbles through a whimper. 

You soften like wax near a flame, eyes flitting to Steve who looks equally at a loss. 

She curls her knees into his tummy in a way that probably hurts. The poor thing dissolves into fresh tears, spilling out faster than Steve can chase away. 

“Holls, it’s okay, honey. Me and Stevie are here, okay?” 

She strains to speak through a chain of gasps, “I want my Mommy!” 

“I know, I know. She’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” you steer sweat-slick hair behind her ear. 

“I want her now.” 

“We’ve got ya, Holl,” Steve chimes in. 

“We’re right here.” 

“No– Mommy!” 

It goes like this for a while, soothing reassurances met with unyielding resolve. Holly’s not one to be stubborn for no reason. She’s so exhausted and upset it breaks your heart. You try reading and music and back rubs but there seems to be no end to her sobbing. 

Steve strokes her ankle where it’s now tucked underneath her in your lap. He looks exhausted– hair draped over his forehead like a claw, extra weight embedded in each of his eyelids. You’re both at your breaking point. “You wanna sleep with me tonight Hollybear?” he says in a tone gentler than you’ve ever heard. 

“No. Mommy,” she persists. 

“You can sleep with her when she gets back. But tonight you get to have a sleepover with Steve. Or you can even sleep with me in Nancy’s bed, okay?” 

Red-rimmed eyes flick between you and Steve. Neither option is as good as Mom. 

“Both,” Holly whines. 

“Wanna lay with both of us?” 

She nods. “In the middle.” 

“Okay,” you turn to Steve. “We can do that.” Your words are colored like a question but he’s already nodding his answer. 

He shovels Holly from your lap, cheek pressing into hers in an unspoken exchange of relief. “Alright, munchkin. Let’s go steal Nancy’s big bed. Sound good?” 

She hums her approval into his ear. 

Steve pokes Nancy’s door open with his foot, swinging around to the tucked side of the bed. You crawl across your end as Holly slides off his chest. She molds herself against your shoulder, tugging Steve closer when he settles. 

“Goodnight, Hollybear,” he says. 

She steals your hand from underneath the comforter, then his where it lies on the sheet. Your knuckles brush Steve’s where they are stapled to her chest. “Goodnight,” she sighs. 

Steve strokes up and down the back of her hand, his touch a quiet catalyst. She’s asleep in mere minutes, snoring softly, fingers limp against yours. 

Steve nudges your hand where it’s already pressed to his, whispering when you turn, “Am I crazy that I find all of this kinda fun?” 

You shake your head, a smile working its way across your lips. “Guess that would make me crazy too.” 

“I know I always complain about driving those little shits around but Holly’s actually really fun to babysit.” 

“Yeah, she is. At least it’s not the end of the world this time, right?”

“Yeah, that probably helps, huh?” Amusement ebbs into a sigh. “I’m kinda dreading going home, to be honest.”

“Why don’t we put Mike in a wig? Kidnap Holly for ourselves.” 

He snorts into his pillow. “Oh, yeah. That’ll work. ‘Yeah, I dunno Mrs. Wheeler, she had a crazy growth spurt while you were gone.’”

“We’d take good care of her.”

“We would,” he nods. “You’re really good with her.” 

“So are you. Kinda surprised me actually.”

“Really? Cause Dustin tells me weekly I’d make a good mother.” 

“Yeah, but they’re different. Older. And don’t get me wrong, you’re great with them and they love hanging out with you. Holly’s just little. You’re so much gentler with her, and like, you always seem to know what to do.” 

“For the record, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Me neither. I don't know what Mrs. Wheeler was thinking asking us to do this.”

Intertwined laughter fades, but something else— something similar— lingers. An almost tangible buzz of energy, as if the silence itself is alive with unspoken words. You entertain the idea that the feeling’s not exclusive to just you. That Steve hears the same jitter in his pulse and feels the same flutter against his ribs. That you aren’t alone to be feeling such a way.    

“Is it–” 

“Are we–”

“Sorry, you go,” he jabbers out. 

The words trickle back down your throat, too thick to cross your tongue again. “You can probably go now,” you decide. 

His gaze jumps to Holly’s chest where his hand is still coupled with one of hers. 

“If you want,” you amend. “You don’t have to.” 

“You don't mind? If I stayed?”

You shake your head.

“Just worried she’ll wake up if I move.” 

You try to flatten your excitement as you reply, “You can stay.” 

His gaze swims with yours across Nancy's room, skimming over the cluttered dresser, the desk strewn with books and pens, to the shuttered closet doors.

“Sorry about– you know– I heard Nancy… dumped you,” you say, immediately regretting the awkward phrasing.

“Harsh,” he squints and casts you a bittersweet grin. “But true.”

“Is it… weird? To be in here?” 

“A little. But not as much as I thought it would be. Hell of a lot better than Mike’s room.” 

You hum, watching the gentle shift in his brows. 

“Is it weird for you?” 

“Me?” you ask. “In what way?” 

“You and Nance. You don’t always see eye to eye.” 

“I mean, yeah. When our decisions involve risking our lives– or the kids– she’s pretty damn impulsive. And she can be real stubborn and selfish sometimes too. But I dunno, I still love her. She’s been sort of like a sister since everything started. I think that’s why we argue.” 

“What does that make me? Your brother?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re the stray dog we adopted.” 

“Okay. That’s just mean.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Your laugh laps out louder than you intend, but Holly remains still. “I dunno who you’d be. The love interest?”

“I can work with that, sexy love interest–”

You scoff. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Harrington.” 

“Okay, okay. But love interest because…”

“Cause you dated Nance.”

“Oh,” he exhales. 

“You don’t agree? Should we go back to stray dog?” 

“Oh, shut up. I’m going to bed.” Steve rolls onto his side with a sigh. 

“Keep your snoring to a minimum, please.” 

He grumbles, narrowing his eyes at your smirk. “I don’t snore.”

“You do. I could hear it from here last night.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you argue. “It definitely wasn’t Holly.” 

“Whatever. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

Only when your eyes are closed does his smile finally emerge. It’s silly how quickly you can pull it out of him. It throws him for a loop every time. But with you at his side, maybe he’ll dream of happier things for once. Either way, it’s easier to fall asleep, just knowing you’re there falling asleep too. 

ᯓ★

“Shhhh!” 

“No, you shhhh,” a lighter voice giggles. 

“Holly,” Steve scolds, mirth buttering his tone. You know he’s smiling by the sound alone. 

Holly’s laughter triples in volume but then is abruptly muffled. 

“Ew– did you just lick me?” 

And this all just sounds way too cute to miss out on. You pry your lashes apart, still sticky with sleep, and flip on your side to face them. 

They freeze, eyes widening adorably in sync. Steve is reclined against the headboard, an arm bent behind his neck. Holly is sprawled halfway across his tummy, toes tickling your side. 

“Sorry,” he offers like you’d be mad. But how could you possibly be anything but enamored waking up to their giggly little voices? If you could be woken up like this every day, you would. 

You shake your head, scratching underneath your eyes. The walls are bathed in muted colors, waiting to be warmed by the sunrise. It’s still early. 

Holly rolls off of Steve onto the floor and barrels out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he shouts. 

“Potty!” 

Steve turns to you, eyes roving across your bedhead for an embarrassingly long amount of time. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Did she kick you last night?” 

You rake your fingers through your hair, quickly moving them to your lips to stifle a yawn. “Not that I remember.” 

“Oh, you’d remember. Trust me. She was on top of me the whole night.” He’s smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t sound annoyed about it if he tried. 

“Aww, she loves you,” you coo. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, pink dusting his cheeks, “I can’t wait to do this.”

“Hmm?”

“Settle down. Have a family. I wasn’t, like, a hundred percent sure before, but I am now.” 

“You’ll be a good dad.”

He beams at you like he’s just won the lottery. “You think?” 

“For sure.” And he really would. You’re sure of it after last night. 

He opens his mouth to speak but your stomach cuts him off with an obnoxious growl. “Hungry?” Steve chuckles. 

“Shut up.” You swipe your pillow and smack him. 

He smacks you back, pulling it to his chest before you can steal it. “Wanna go out for breakfast?” 

Your brain short circuits. You forget you’re babysitting and not just laying in bed with Steve Harrington for fun. He is not asking you on a date like your heart assumes. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure. For sure,” you sputter out, heat licking up the back of your neck. 

“I’ll go see what she wants,” he slides onto the floor and shakes his legs awake. 

Steve’s tall, even sluggishly slumped over. But even more so as he stretches– arms rising with his shirt, revealing a fraction of golden skin above his waistband. A long, lazy moan climbs out of his chest. 

You push the comforter off before you burst into flames. 

Holly determines she wants IHOP because they put chocolate chips and sprinkles on the pancakes. Steve supplies her with an outfit and wrestles her hair into pigtails with bows to match her skirt. It’s surprisingly coordinated and admittedly cute, but maybe you’re wrong to be so surprised– he knows his way around a comb and a closet. 

“Can I get pancakes?” she asks Steve, perched on the bottom step of the stairs. 

He’s cross-legged on the floor, hunched over to lace her sneakers. “I already told you yes, silly goose.”

“Can I get extra sprinkles?”

“Uhh, does your mom let you?”

She thinks about it before answering. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Sure, then.” He grins, clapping her tied shoes together before standing. 

You shoulder Holly’s bag, stuffed with books and toys and a jacket in case it rains, courtesy of Steve who insisted she might need it. “Ready?” you ask him.

Steve races Holly to the car while you lock up. Mrs. Wheeler installed Holly’s car seat in Steve’s beamer before she left but you’ve yet to use it. 

“It’s too tight,” Holly whines from the car, loud enough to hear from the top of the driveway. 

“I know, ‘m working on it,” Steve assures, working his fingers under the straps. “Just gotta figure it out.”

“Hurry!” 

“I’m hurrying, Holl. Give me a sec’.” 

You open the passenger door and peek around the headrest to view her. The belts are buckled but not tight enough to spark concern. “He’s going as fast as he can, Holly. Be patient.” 

She squirms under his hands, exhaling sharply. And like her, Steve’s frustration mounts, jaw tightening, brow furrowing. His fingers keep slipping and he’s not totally sure which button or strap is for loosening. 

You swing around to Holly’s door and cup Steve’s shoulder. “Let me try.”

He knocks his head on the roof as he pulls out. 

You wince, “Okay?” 

He softens as you reach for his neck, though your fingers never land. Still, the tender look you offer is enough to cure any bumps or bruises he might’ve gotten. 

It’s an unfortunate amount of trial and error before Holly is fastened in properly. Steve cranks the AC on full blast when you finally settle into your seats and circles through radio stations after he backs out. He finds the kid’s station, playing a Muppet’s song that Steve apparently knows every word to. He sings unapologetically loud, a stupid grin sewn to his face. 

When you arrive, Holly happily holds your hand through the parking lot, still clutching tightly as you wait to be seated. She climbs onto your lap to make room on the waiting bench for a woman looking ready to pop out a baby any minute. Steve stands at your other side, arm braced behind your neck. 

“How old is she?” the woman asks you fondly. 

“She’s five,” you return her smile, bouncing your knee. “Right, Holly?”

Holly twists to hide in your neck, nodding. 

“She’s very cute,” she says with such love you already believe her baby is in good hands. “Your sister?” Her eyes flick from yours to Steve who is mostly oblivious to the conversation. 

“No, just babysitting.” 

“Oh, well, you’ll make good parents one day.” 

The comment renders you speechless. It’s not that you hadn’t considered children before, but you hadn’t pictured them with Steve. With his smile, his eyes, his nose. It’s that this woman who doesn’t even know you imagined it before you had. You blink at her stupidly through a forced smile.

Steve squeezes your shoulder, ripping you from your thoughts. “You okay? Table’s ready.” 

You get seated in a booth overlooking the parking lot. 

Holly bends across Steve’s lap to point through the window. “I see our car!” 

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

Holly’s face contorts with confusion. “Her? Your car’s a girl?” 

“Yep–”

The waitress swings over with a handful of menus and a hasty introduction. Steve already knows what he wants and he places Holly’s order after his, making sure to clarify the extra sprinkles when she calls his name repeatedly to remind him. As soon as you decide, the waitress bustles off with the pair of menus to another table. 

Holly slides her paper menu closer, examining each activity. 

Steve picks open the box of crayons, revealing a stingy three– red, green, and blue. “You know, for a multi-million dollar company, you’d think they could afford more than three crayons.”

“And more staff,” you add, eyes tailing another waitress zipping from one table to another. 

Holly points at herself, Steve, and then you, counting, “One, two three. Three crayons for three people.” 

“Yeah, good point,” Steve pats her thigh. “Always the optimist.” 

“Op-ta-nist?”

“Op-ta-mist,” he clarifies. 

She snags the green crayon and presses it to the paper. “What’s that?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth. “Well, it’s like– it’s when you– you’re happy a lot. Grass is always greener on the other side, you know?” 

Steve lost her at the metaphor but she’s too focused on staying inside the lines to care about the definition of optimist anymore. 

“You got there eventually. Sort of,” you tease. 

His foot stabs your ankle under the table. “Shut up.” 

Steve lets Holly win every single round of tic-tac-toe while showering her with praise, convincing her she's a tactical mastermind. You can’t quite tell if she’s onto him, but she’s too busy grinning to say otherwise.

The waitress plants your and Steve’s plates on the table first, reaching behind to scoop Holly’s off her tray next. “And, chocolate chip pancakes with extra sprinkles for the little one.” 

“Thank you,” you manage to say before she leaves to tend to another table flagging her down. “Holly, want syrup?”

“Yes, please.” 

You pour a spiral of maple syrup over Holly’s pancakes. The amount of sugar on her plate might qualify it more as candy than breakfast. And she’s ogling the food like it’ll grow legs and run away. 

“Steve, will you cut them up for her?”

He nods, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs and trading his fork for a knife. As soon as he slides her meal back over, Holly ravages the pancakes, spooning another bite in her mouth before she’s swallowed the last.

The waitress whisks by with drink refills, joy driving her to a smile at the sight of Holly and her half-empty plate. 

“I swear we feed her at home,” Steve chuckles through his own joke. What a dad thing to say. “Can we get some more napkins?” 

And it’s like he knows what’s going to happen. Holly stretches across the table for the syrup bottle, drawing back with an open-mouthed grimace. 

“Uh-oh.” She presses her chin to her chest. There’s a patch of syrup turning the hem of her pink shirt brown. 

“What?” Steve throws a pigtail behind her shoulder so he can see. “Oh. It’s okay.” 

“It was an accident,” Holly explains. 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“It’s sticky.”

“It’ll wash off.” Steve dunks a clean napkin in his cup of water and dabs it across the stain. 

“It’s too cold,” she complains, pinching the fabric away from her skin. 

“Sorry. It’ll dry. Have to get the syrup out, though.” 

You deliver another wad of napkins to Steve’s hand. He pushes them against her belly, soaking up any excess water. His patience never frays.

Holly looks up, worry etched into her voice, “Will it stain?” 

“I dunno,” you supply truthfully. “We’ll throw it in the wash when we get home.” 

Steve pays the bill with the cash the Wheelers left and scrapes his wallet for change, stacking two quarters on the table when he finds them. “Since you’ve been such a good listener. There’s a sticker machine up front,” he tells Holly. 

Steve might as well have slapped a ticket to Disney World on the table. Holly literally jumps for joy, right out of her seat. She buys a random Lisa Frank sticker and pockets the second coin for her piggy bank. 

It’s Steve’s idea to go to the playground afterward. The park is teeming with life, the kind of chaos that only a weekend morning can bring. Swings creak under the weight of eager kids, and the monkey bars have their own traffic jam. Parents wrap the playground like a barricade, their chatter drowned out by laughter and shouts. But the heat presses down ruthlessly, making every step feel like you’re wading through a sauna.

Holly tears away from Steve’s hand as soon as her shoes hit the mulch, rejoicing in her newfound freedom with a little skip. She races up a set of stairs to wait for a turn on the tallest slide. 

“Should’ve brought sunscreen,” Steve says, eyes following Holly down the slide. She flashes you both a prideful smile from the bottom. 

“She’ll survive. We won’t stay long. It’s too hot.” You pull your shirt out to fan your chest, dabbing the sweat beading at your sternum. 

“Careful!” he shouts as she hops from one platform to the next. She continues to bounce along the path, one wobbly leap at a time. A particularly long jump has Steve cringing. He’s trying really hard not to be overanxious and it’s as sweet as it is amusing. 

He side-eyes your grin with an opposing frown. You don’t even have to say anything for him to know you’re teasing him. “What?” 

You shrug, smile doubling. “You.”

“What about me?” 

“You’re just funny.” 

“My concern is funny to you?” he accuses. 

“She’s fine, Steve.” 

He makes a noise of disagreement, arms crossed and a hip popped out dramatically far. You see why Dustin teases him for being motherly. 

Holly struggles with the monkey bars. She makes it halfway across before her arms start to shake and her hands slip. Steve lunges forward as he watches her plummet to the ground. But before he can swoop in, Holly pops up, dusts the dirt from her skirt with a nonchalant shrug, and marches on, completely unfazed. 

“See. She’s fine,” you reassure.

“Whatever,” Steve grumbles, strolling away to sulk in private. 

He makes a slow lap around the playground, hands planted firmly on his hips, casting a critical eye over the chaos. Meanwhile, you snag a spot on a bench, where most parents are engrossed in magazines or gossip, blissfully detached. You watch Steve get roped into playing a monster, though you can tell he secretly loves it. 

It doesn’t take long for him to start stomping around, roaring and growling, chasing the kids as they shriek and scatter. And when they finally tire him out, he collapses beside you, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and his breath coming in ragged bursts. 

“I told her five more minutes,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the bench behind you. His curls shine honeycomb gold in the spray of sunlight and his skin echoes the warmth of desert sand, softened pink like the blush of sunset. He looks strikingly gorgeous sprawled out beside you. 

Holly trots over not much later, alarmingly upset. 

You sit up, urgently shaking Steve’s thigh to grab his attention. “What happened, honey?” 

“I– I was,” she sucks in a staggered breath, “I was climbing the stairs and– and a boy, he pushed me.” Twin rivulets of tears are unleashed with a blink, converging at the curve of her chin. 

You scan her from head to toe. Nothing looks broken or bloody. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” she strains. 

You drag her into your chest, pressing a loving cheek to her ear. “Did it scare you?” 

She nods, hiccuping into your neck. 

“I’m sorry, Holly. That wasn’t nice at all.” 

Steve’s gaze shifts between Holly and the playground to search for guilty suspects. He finds none, thankfully, though he’s still itching to wring out whatever parent it is not watching their kid– which is unfortunately most of them.

“Let me see,” he coaxes Holly over for his own checkup. He picks a piece of mulch from her hair and flicks off another stamped into her calf. “Think you’ll make it? Should we call an ambulance?” 

She doesn’t smile at his joke like you hope. 

“Ready to go home?” you ask.

She sniffs into her sleeve. “Yeah.” 

“Alright.” Steve hoists her up as he stands. Holly's long legs wrap around his waist, feet swaying against his thighs as he walks. 

Holly naps on the way home, not by choice but by sheer exhaustion. She convinces herself she didn’t actually fall asleep when she wakes up in the driveway, swearing, “I just closed my eyes.” 

But it’s quickly apparent that twenty minutes was not enough. She cries because her leftover pizza for lunch is cold in the middle and again when she rubs the sauce in her eye. You turn on a movie, hoping to induce another nap, but The Aristocats is just too good to sleep through. Thankfully, her grumpiness wanes into a more manageable pout, her arms uncrossing to snuggle closer to you on the couch.

When the movie ends, she slinks up, her departure leaving your lap cold. After a long-winded debate about what to do, you all finally agree on playing a board game. Steve steers Holly downstairs to pick one out and she returns with a rekindled excitement, dropping the game Twister at your feet. 

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Twister, but you were expecting something easier. Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. So you let Steve and Holly go first. The round ends in a heap of tangled limbs and giggles, a winner unclear. But Holly wins the match against you, admittedly fair and square. And it’s all fun and games until she insists you and Steve must compete. 

“Ehh, Holly. My arms are tired,” you reason. 

“But I wanna be the referee too,” she whines. “Pleaseee!” 

Steve shrugs at you, a playful little curve to his lips. If you say no, that makes only you the bad guy. And you just can’t bring yourself to break Holly’s heart over something so simple. 

“Okay,” you sigh, ignoring the nervous tick in your chest. 

Holly pushes you by the hips onto the mat to stand opposite Steve. She gets situated on the floor and excitedly flicks the spinner, calling, “Left foot. Blue!” 

You each step toward a blue dot. Easy. 

“Right foot on green.” 

Right foot, green. You’re shoulder to shoulder now, hips angled toward his. 

“Right hand… yellow!” 

“Here we go,” you mumble, bending down to reach yellow. “Okay.” 

Steve chuckles and follows suit, free hand hovering awkwardly behind your shoulder. 

You twist your head until you can’t, just to see the stupid look on his face. “You know, your long legs really give you an unfair advantage here.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he chides, hot breath fanning the back of your already hot neck. 

“Don’t speak so soon, Harrington. You’re the one who’s gonna lose.” 

“Right hand, red,” Holly announces. 

You lean back toward red, headbutting Steve’s side so you don’t fall. He curls into position next, swaying until his back pocket is inches from your nose. 

“Oh my God, Steve. Get your butt out of my face!” You’d shove him if you had an extra hand. 

Holly giggles in that contagious way kids laugh, automatically pulling one from Steve. 

“Don’t make me laugh. If I go down, so are you,” he reminds you. 

“Umm, left foot green,” Holly says. 

Steve groans dramatically, whining. “What! Holly, that’s impossible. Spin again.” 

She cackles, reminiscent of Queen Holly. “Nope, you have to! That’s the rules!”

And somehow, you both make it to green without knocking each other over. But you’re getting distracted– Steve’s hand has brushed your calf three times now and his shirt is loose, hanging off his chest in a way that gives you a clear view of his tummy. This might as well be sabotage. You tear your eyes away. You must focus. You didn’t care much for winning before, but something about Steve brings out your competitive side. 

“Right hand, green.” 

You bow your knee until it’s wedged uncomfortably into your ribcage so you can reach the green. Your thighs quickly begin to ache. You won’t last much longer in this position. Especially not when Steve arches over you like a human bridge, the zipper of his jeans tickling your back where your shirt has scrunched up. 

He shakes his hair out of the way so he can see you, albeit upside down. His smile stretches wide, radiating pure, unfiltered joy. He’s having the time of his life, and admittedly, so are you. 

Your elbow juts out, nearly giving under the weight of his gaze alone. But you snap it back in place and practically beg Holly, “Spin.” 

“Left foot blue!”

You and Steve lunge for the same blue circle. His sock slides against the tarp, leg extending much farther than he’s prepared for. His arm buckles, chest slamming down against your back. Your elbows give out immediately under the force of his weight, jaw slamming into the floor. 

“Shit, sorry! You okay?” 

A burst of laughter tumbles out of your mouth before you can answer. But maybe it’s an answer in itself. Your chin stings but you're fine. Better than fine, even. 

As soon as Steve scrambles off of you, you flip onto your back. His eyes trickle down you in assessment, eyebrows knitting together, mouth twitching like it can’t decide whether to frown or smile. 

“I’m okay,” you manage, smiley and breathless. 

“Did you hit your face?”

“Just my chin.” 

He reaches for your face with hesitant fingers. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, bolstering his wrist as he cups your chin. “I definitely won.” 

And just like that, all his worry washes away. He pries your hand from his wrist, wrenching you up to sit. “Technically, you hit the floor first.” 

You glance over to Holly for her professional referee’s opinion but find she’s no longer there. “Where’s–”

“I found it!” she yells from the upstairs. What exactly she found, you’ve no idea. But she comes stomping down the stairs not a minute later with a little box in her hands. Bandaids, you realize, as she dumps the contents on the twister mat beside you. “They’re Hello Kitty,” she says, stripping the paper backing off of one. 

You let her little fingers stamp it to the curve of your chin. It’s not bleeding, nor does it really hurt that bad, but the gesture is sweet enough to melt your heart. “Thank you, Holly. You’re so gentle. You should be a candy striper.” 

“I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“When you’re older then.”

Steve decides Twister is far too dangerous to keep playing, but Holly demands a game of Mouse Trap so it works out. Steve wins, despite you and Holly’s strategic alliance halfway through. And by then, she’s asked about dinner twice so you shelve the rest of the games and head up to the kitchen to decide together. 

Holly hums into the freezer, “Chicken nuggets… pizza rolls– oh! Eggos, can we have Eggos?” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, peering over her, “Why don’t we cook something? We could have a fancy dinner. Like a dinner party.”

“Can we dress up?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, flipping a pack of ground beef over. 

“Pasta?” you call from the pantry.

“Ooh, yeah. Let’s do that.”

Holly sprints upstairs for a costume, much more interested in the party than the dinner. You pull a box of noodles and an unopened jar of sauce from the shelf while Steve grabs a pot from the cabinet and sticks it under the faucet. 

“Careful. Stove’s on,” you announce, flicking the dial on high. 

Steve backs up from the sink slowly, water sloshing over the side of the pot when he bumps the table. 

“Steve,” you chuckle, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle, “It doesn’t need to be that full.” 

“No?” 

“No, dump like, half of that out.” 

He nods, pouring some out and depositing the rest over the stove. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never made pasta before.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed,” you quip, elbowing his side with the box of noodles in hand. “Pour these in?”

He takes the box and gives it a good shake. “How much?” 

“Maybe half? Little more?” 

He tips it over the water, snapping it back up when much more than half slides out. “Oops.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuck a few stray pieces from the counter into the pot. “Everyone’s getting seconds tonight. What do you like in your pasta?” 

“Sauce?” 

The laugh fizzles out in your throat as you realize he’s not making a joke. “Besides sauce. Cheese? Meat? Spices?” 

“Oh, uhh, I’m not sure.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, hand retracting to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He’s antsy, clearly nervous. Maybe embarrassed of his cooking knowledge, or rather, lack of it. Or perhaps afraid the pasta will end up something like the first set of grilled cheeses. 

“We’ll keep it simple then. Holly probably won’t like it too fancy anyway.” 

Steve nervously watches the water bubble, foam climbing up the sides. “Do you like garlic bread? Saw some in the freezer.” 

You fish the box out and line a pan with three pieces. And with bread in the oven and the pasta starting to boil, you hop on the counter to wait.  

“How long does it take?” Steve asks.

“Not long.” 

You open the drawer beside your legs and find a big wooden spoon. Lucky guess. “Here. Stir.” 

His eyes follow the ladle, stirring with steady hands. It’s a peaceful quiet, his focus unusually soft. Not the urgent, fate of his life kind of determination you’re used to seeing. 

When it’s ready, you pinch the spoon’s neck, fingertips sweeping his for the half a second before he lets go. “Now we strain the water. Then we can add the sauce.” 

You find a strainer and plant it in the sink while Steve carries the pot over and pours. He sets it back on the stove, per your orders, and offers a hand when you struggle with the sauce lid. 

He pins the jar against his chest, knuckles straining white in several attempts to twist the cap. But it pops off after a good shake, spraying sauce across your cheek, and spinning to the floor like a frisbee. 

Steve freezes, gawking at your face with a stupid smile. 

“Steve!” You scoop up a dish towel and smack his arm. 

He throws his hands up and turns a shoulder to you. “I didn’t mean to,” he snickers. 

“Don’t laugh! I’ll pour that whole jar over your head.” 

He doesn’t buy your threat one bit, still laughing as he sets the jar down and steals the towel from your hands. “I’ll get it. Sit still.” 

You summon the most menacing glare you can manage while suppressing a smile. He presses the towel to your cheek, thumb gliding across your skin as he wipes the sauce in one languid motion. His eyes flick down to your lips and you’re positive you aren’t imagining it. 

But you’re sweating and your stomach is churning and– “The pasta!” You ram into Steve’s shoulder trying to get by, rushing to turn the stove temperature down. 

Steve whisks up behind you to see the food. “Is it burnt?” 

“No, no. It should be fine.” You scrape the ladle under the bottom layer of noodles. “Pass me the sauce?”

You avoid his eyes as you take it. Was he going to kiss you? Maybe just thinking about it? Or perhaps there was just sauce near your mouth and you’re spiraling over absolutely nothing. 

You toss the food in sauce and divide it into three plates silently. 

“Holly! Food’s ready,” Steve shouts as he fixes the table with napkins and silverware. 

She clambers down the steps in a tutu and a cardigan that you’re pretty sure is Nancy’s. Her smile drops. “Where are your clothes?” 

Steve looks down at his sweats. “Holly, I think we’ll just–”

“Please, Stevie. It’s a dinner party, remember?” 

His eyes dart to you, though you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “One sec.”

He swings back into the kitchen wearing a tweed suit jacket, a silky, black one draped over his arm. His is a few sizes too big, shoulder pads drooping down his biceps, and the sleeves swallowing his hands. He pushes the fabric up his elbows to hand you the other jacket. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. It comes off less sarcastic than you aim for. 

Holly and Steve adopt similar grins as you slip the jacket on. “You look dashing,” she compliments. 

“Very,” Steve agrees, taking a seat beside you. 

You spend the rest of dinner internally debating whether he’s flirting or just indulging in Holly’s playful antics. The uncertainty makes your stomach flip, and suddenly you aren’t so hungry anymore. 

After the dinner party concludes, it’s Holly’s suggestion to go for a walk. She wheels her bike out of the garage, fitted with a set of training wheels and a handlebar bursting with tinsel. A yawn rolls off her tongue as she launches down the driveway. It raises your hopes for a smoother bedtime tonight. 

Even as the horizon melts into the Earth, the summer heat clings like a heavy hand. Trees project long shadows along the road, eating what’s left of the sunlight. Bugs buzz and birds chirp, but a sleepy stillness is ubiquitous. 

“What?” you ask suddenly, whipping your head to face Steve. He’s drenched in gold, pale wisps of hair riding the breeze as he strolls. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re staring at me. I feel it.” 

“I wasn’t,” he assures. 

You blink at him. You can’t decide whether to be annoyed at such an obvious lie or embarrassed by the truth. 

He jogs ahead before you’ve come up with something to say. Halfway to Holly, he shouts, “Come on, slowpoke!” 

It only takes one loop around the block for the heat to catch up. Holly complains incessantly about her helmet strap being too tight even after Steve fixes it and you’re itchy from sweat and mosquito bites. Steve’s, well, he might be the only content one. Happy even, guiding you home with a subtle bend to his lips and a soft glow tinting his cheeks. 

Holly whines about having to take a bath, and while you might negotiate it another night, you can see the damp line down her back. But like you suspect, all grievances are forgotten the second she gets in. She likes playing in the bath, even if she forgets it. It’s where she keeps her mermaid Barbie and her collection of rubber ducks, coincidentally all named Bob. 

And while bath time might tend to feel like more of a chore as a babysitter, tonight is different. It’s your last night at the Wheelers, and while that’s not new information, it is startlingly sad. You aren’t irritated when she splashes water in your eye or when she leaves a trail of it down the hall for you to clean. You can’t be, not when you know you’ll miss it. 

Steve helps you tuck Holly into Nancy’s bed. After pinky swearing that you’ll both return at your own bedtime, she drifts off easily. You’re thankful, of course, but a piece of you secretly hoped to be needed longer.  

“Must’ve been tired,” Steve whispers, pushing slowly off the bed. “You okay?” 

You nod, tearing your eyes from Holly to meet Steve’s. “Kinda sad.” You shrug, murmuring, “Stupid.” 

“It’s not.” He cups your shoulder and runs a warm hand up and down your arm. “Come on.” 

You take his hand and let him lead you across the hall and down the stairs. He pulls you onto the couch so you land pressed into the same cushion he’s on. “Y’know, babysitting Holly’s a breeze compared to the usual shitheads. We don’t have to worry about her taking my car keys or fighting interdimensional monsters or summoning a gate to hell,” he says. 

A soft laugh parts your lips. “Think Holly will put in a good word for us with her parents?” 

“You kidding? She loves us. Especially me,” he jokes. “Hate to break it to you but I’m definitely her favorite.” 

“No, you are not. Shut up.” 

He catches your fist mid-punch, cradling your hand like it’s made of wet sand. His thumb crosses each divot between your fingers, stroking up and down your knuckle slowly. “I’m sure they’ll ask us to babysit her again at some point.”

You hum in agreement. 

“Besides, we could expand our horizons. There’s like a million other children in Hawkins that need babysitting.” 

Your smile spills into your cheeks. “We?” 

“Yeah, I think we make a pretty damn good team. Don’t you?” 

“I do, but… we don’t have to limit our interactions to just babysitting, you know?” 

“What are you thinking? Dinner and a movie? Next weekend?” His eyes flick from your fingers to your face– to each eye, sweeping down the center of your nose, stopping right at your lips. 

You turn away in an attempt to soothe your heart as it pounds up to your ears. “Smooth, Harrington.” 

He reels you back in gently by the arm, confidence shining through his smile.“What? Did I read this wrong?” He knows he didn’t, he’s teasing you. 

“No,” you mumble, “You didn’t.” 

He leans in to whisper, “Can I kiss you then?” 

You nod, pushing into the soft press of his lips with your own. He’s not hesitant, nor is he harsh. Steve knows how to kiss, that much is clear. He trades your hand for your cheek, gently tilting your face to the side as he pulls away. 

Your eyes flutter open to a doting gaze. One that travels down the lines and slopes of your neck like they’re made of candy. Steve plants a second kiss on your lips, though fleeting in comparison to the first. But he plants several more to make up for it, working his way in a Z down your cheek, across your jaw, and back down your neck. They’re quick, ticklish little pecks of affection. A sweetness if you ever knew it. 

“Steve,” you admonish, though giggles betray your tone. The hands that frame his face glide gently down to his throat, your thumbs meeting at his Adam's apple. “We’re babysitting.” 

“I know,” he says, kissing your lips for a third time. “Just had to get a few extra in there. For all the times I thought about kissing you this weekend.” 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” He laughs, bubbly like you’ve surprised him. “It’s true. I thought about it all weekend.” 

You don’t know why you ask– why you even thought of it at a time like this– but you question him, “What about Nance?” 

“What about her?” 

“You don’t…” you trail off, afraid to even speak the possibility into existence. 

“We’re done. We have been. For a lot longer than I was willing to admit,” he admits honestly. 

“Yeah, but do you–”

“I don’t. Still have feelings for her. Not like that, anyway.” 

You meet his eyes, feeling a strange blend of emotions you can’t quite name.

“If you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to let me prove it to you,” he holds your gaze, warm with a sincerity that makes it hard to doubt him. 

“I believe you.” 

You let Steve kiss you several more times on that couch. He’s patient, deliberate, and more kind than you ever imagined he’d be. It’s hard to understand why Nancy would ever let someone like that go. 

ᯓ★

On Monday morning, you blink awake first, the comforting weight of a hand that’s not yours across your hip and another, much lighter one, at your belly. You turn over slowly, finding Steve and Holly wrapped around each other like ivy on trellis. You don’t imagine many people look this pretty asleep. The comb of long lashes kissing the soft flush in his cheeks. The golden lather of sunrise in each wild swoop of hair. The way his lips part for a sigh cuter than you knew one could be. 

He mumbles something unintelligible, sleep talk perhaps. 

You whisper back anyway, “What?” 

Steve sighs, smearing his cheek against the pillow. “Being a creeper.” 

“Me?” 

“Mhmm.” One eye slowly unbinds itself from sleep. Steve adores the tight-lipped smile on your face, broad with an infatuation he forgot could be aimed at him. His hand twitches at your side. 

“You just look so pretty when you sleep,” you admit. Is it too soon to say such things? 

His eye closes as he smiles, nosing into Holly’s hair, selfishly keeping it to himself. You reach across her body to find it, swiping a loving finger across his lips when you do. 

You stay in bed for as long as Holly will allow– which is not very long after she wakes up– but you don’t mind. You watch fondly as Steve helps her brush her teeth and as she helps Steve toast and butter the Eggos. Like Steve, Holly’s a good kid. They’re both helpers at heart. 

And you’re sure to remind Mrs. Wheeler of that when she rings the house to let you know they’re almost home. Holly’s excitement quickly dwindles into sadness the moment she realizes you won’t be staying. But she uses it to bargain one final game of hide and seek before you go. 

“Come on.” Steve drags you by the wrist, bustling upstairs to the bathroom. He throws the shower curtain aside and jumps in, offering his hand to help you after. You sit scrunched together, knee to knee on the porcelain floor, giggling like children. 

“Shhh,” you squeeze his kneecap. “You’re gonna get us found.” 

He jostles your shoulder, mouth agape. “You’re the one who’s laughing!” 

“No,” you insist, though the light in your eyes suggests otherwise. Curiosity sparks and the irrepressible urge to act on it wins. You lean in for a kiss, confirming that’s all it takes to shut Steve up. 

He tastes like maple syrup, loving with his lips as much as his hands. He pulls back for breath and returns for another peck, pressing into the corner of your mouth where your smile keeps drawing higher and higher. 

“Hard to kiss you when you're smiling.” 

“Can’t help it,” you defend. “Never been so happy.” 

He softens like warm icing, a sweet and gooey mess in your arms. But the shake of the front door closing stiffens him. 

“Mommy!” you hear quickly after. 

Steve scrambles up and over the lip of the tub, tugging you out with him. You follow him downstairs where Mrs. Wheeler swings Holly in her arms like she’s much smaller than she really is. Mr. Wheeler steers a suitcase silently through the entryway. 

“Did you have so much fun?” she asks Holly, peppering kisses across her temple. “Ohh, I missed you!” 

Holly revels in the affection overload, bending backward to giggle at you and Steve. 

Mrs. Wheeler grins. “How was she?” 

“Great, as always,” Steve assures. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed— though you could chalk that up to bedhead, not the aftermath of your short-lived makeout session.

You nod, adding, “We went swimming and to the park and–”

“IHOP!” Holly yells. “I got pancakes with chocolate chips and extra sprinkles!” 

“Did you? Sounds like you had a lot of fun.” Mrs. Wheeler plants Holly on her feet. “Can you give hugs? Say thank you for being such good babysitters?” 

Holly launches herself at Steve. He sends you a smirk over her shoulder, rocking her side to side in his embrace. You can just hear him say, I told you so. 

But she offers the same enthusiasm and more for you, dragging you onto the floor for a proper goodbye hug. “I don’t want you to go,” she pouts in your ear. 

“We’ll come back. We can have playdates?” 

“Can’t you just live in Nancy’s room? She’s never here anyway.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “I wish I could,” you admit honestly. 

She reluctantly loosens her grip on your shirt when you peel away. 

Mrs. Wheeler sees you and Steve off with a warm smile. Holly darts through her mother’s legs for one final hug on the porch. You wave goodbye, the moment slipping into something bittersweet before Steve bumps his shoulder into yours, a playful grin softening the farewell.

You dawdle up to your car, wringing your hands together when you reach the door. “So.”

“So,” he parrots. 

“This weekend, right?” 

His smirk blooms into a full smile. “Friday? Pick you up at seven?” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

“Okay,” he chuckles, clipping a hand around your jaw and leaning in. 

You turn away so the kiss skips across the softest stretch of your cheek. “Steve.” 

His eyes never leave your face as he assures you, “They’re not looking.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

Holly waves at you through the living room window, a smile as wide as her face. Steve’s hand falls down to his side and he takes a platonic step back. You both return her goodbye, but Holly stays, her little hand pressed to the glass. 

“Think she’ll tell?” Steve asks, not an ounce of worry in his tone. 

You shrug, tugging him back in by the waist for a proper kiss. “I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world.” 

[lilgoblinbitch]

Electricity𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 (part 2 of Gossip)

rick grimes x fem!reader

part one here

a/n: well holy shit, this took way longer than i had originally expected it to take. life has been crazy for me. thank you all for being patient with me!

summary: days pass, and rick is still mysterious. until finally, you discover his true feelings toward you in the best way possible.

content: smut PinV, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral (fem receiving), fingering, rough!rick, friends to lovers, heavy teasing, multiple orgasms, angst, some fluff at the end

18+ ONLY, mdni.

wc: 4.4k

Your heart was almost palpitating. You were left stranded with your thoughts spinning around in your head while Rick just nonchalantly strode off back to his bedroom. 

The whole night you could barely get any sleep; your mind apparently had other plans –  mainly entailing you ruminating over what had happened that night. It boggled you how Rick effortlessly admitted to being aware of your little crush on him, completely catching you off guard and leaving you overwhelmed and flustered. You were forced to forget about the whole situation, or at the very best push it to the back of your mind for…later – whenever “later” was.

The next few days were nothing out of the ordinary. Rick was barely at the house, busy adjusting to his new constable responsibilities and becoming familiar with the rest of the Alexandrians. You knew he had a duty to uphold, so it was reasonable for him to avoid your presence for the time being, but your mind was still fogged up from what he had said to you that night. It was eating you up for the next few slumbers; you tossed and turned until eventually the thoughts wore your brain out and let you get a few hours of shut eye. Regardless, you tried to forget it altogether throughout the daytime and focus on becoming more comfortable living in a brand new community, and a brand new house that was bigger than any house you’d ever lived in. 

Carl didn’t stay inside for long throughout the day. You’d always find his room empty and his comic books gone. That meant he was most likely reading them outside and sharing them with his new friends. But you were happy for him; the kid deserved to make friends after everything he’d been through. So you were left with baby Judy most days, but that didn’t bother you. Before the world turned you had two younger siblings, and as a teen you were always stuck babysitting them when your parents went out. It was second nature to you now.

Today you decided to get out of the house and find something to do. You hated staying indoors — you were always an outdoorsy person and got antsy pretty quickly without a daily dose of sunshine. You stepped outside with Judith on your hip, taking in the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze that swayed the various trees in perfect rhythm. Without a doubt, the weather was inviting. So, naturally, you choose to embrace it and take a stroll down the street with little Judy in your arms.

As you made your way down the block with Judith cooing and spinning her curious head around to view her surroundings, you reached the end of it and turned the corner. You recalled how Vivian and Shannon lived in one of the houses on the block you were walking down. A quick drop-in to see what they were up to couldn’t hurt. Besides, Shannon was a kindergarten teacher before the fall and therefore loved watching over Judith with you. 

“Hey, Y/N!”

You spun around and noticed a tall brunette man walking toward you. It was Spencer Monroe, son of Deanna Monroe — the community’s leader. And, according to Vivian and Shannon, he had a thing for you. Not that you had anything against it, but it did make you feel a bit uneasy knowing he was interested in you and would probably try to make a move on you, now that he was standing in front of you. Regardless, you played it cool; he was Deanna’s son after all, so it could be beneficial to you if you gave your absolute best impression. 

“Oh, hey, Spencer!” You smiled sweetly at the tall man, who reeked of a musty cologne. It wasn’t awfully foul, just a bit too loud for your taste. A slight turn off.

He grinned down at you and Judith, scratching the back of his neck anxiously while shuffling closer to you. He was about two feet away from you — if he were any closer you’d definitely be backing up. 

“I was actually just about to come over to you and ask if you wanted to have dinner tonight?” He squinted his eyes at you, trying to read your face. Your cheeks were tickled pink and your heart was doing laps in your chest. It was as if Judith could sense your unease, and on cue she started fussing. 

“I–” You paused, gathering your thoughts together while calming the distressed child. Shit. What should you say? 

“Yeah! I would love to, Spencer.” Way to go.

On the walk home Judith started to calm down, while you did the exact opposite. Your thoughts were racing again, and you cursed yourself for obliging to Spencer’s request. What the hell were you getting yourself into? You didn’t even like Spencer; yeah, he was attractive, but he just wasn’t…well, he wasn’t Rick Grimes. Still, there remained a sense of determination – getting to know Spencer could be a good thing. Besides, you didn’t really have any plans for that evening anyway.

Once you finally reached the comfort of your house, you put Judy in her room for a nap and started rummaging through your closet for something to wear. You doubted you would find anything spectacular, considering you didn’t exactly have a boutique in this community. A simple floral dress would do. 

“Geez… when was the last time I wore any type of heeled shoe?” You humored yourself, attempting to walk around in the sleek open-toed heels you found in your closet. You recalled how Shannon lended you a few pairs from her own closet, stating that she was overwhelmed by how many abandoned pairs of high heels were left in the world, and apparently her closet housed dozens of them. Lucky for you. 

Once you were confident enough you wouldn’t lose your balance in the shoes, you took a long look in the full-length mirror and admired how, for a lack of a better word – decent you looked. Excluding Deanna’s welcoming party, you hadn’t worn a dress since before. It would definitely take some getting used to. 

Before you were able to get one last gander at yourself in the mirror, something – or rather someone – interrupted you.

“Got plans for tonight?”

You jumped in your skin and spun around. You were met with a wide set of eyes scaling your body, taking in the elegant view before him. You were stunning, and he couldn’t deny it even if he wished to. 

“Jesus, Rick! You really have a way of scaring the shit out of me.” You smiled nervously while flattening out your dress. He watched you like a hawk, and of course he was aware of how antsy you were. That was like his superpower. You cleared your throat, ensuring your voice didn’t crack. “Yeah, I’m uh… going on a date…”

His sharp blue eyes made harsh contact with yours, locking you into place. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, sad, disappointed, or all three. Or maybe he didn’t care. Then again, Rick’s face was almost impossible for you to decipher. 

He remained leaning against the doorframe, eyes never leaving you. You were not enjoying the deathly silence. Until he finally spoke again.

“A date?”

“With Spencer… Deanna’s son.” Your eyes regrettably met his once more. “But it’s nothing serious, really—”

“Thought you didn’t like him… had someone else on your mind, right?” His tone was biting, almost taunting. You frowned, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“Maybe I lied, Rick. Maybe I think he’s cute now. Besides, I already said it wasn’t anything serious.” You grabbed a jacket out of the closet, slung it over your back and slipped it on. “And I don’t know why you care so much, or why you had to eavesdrop on me, but I’ve got to go now.”

And with that you whisked past the brooding man and out the room, exiting the house. Rick knew you were suppressing your genuine feelings; it was almost too conspicuous. He just knew you too well. Knowing someone for a few years in a post-apocalyptic world was like knowing someone in the previous world for ten or even twenty years; your group grew close very quickly. Inevitably, in fact – death and grieving, fighting and surviving; it all brought you closer together. You were part of a strong network of survivors, ones who shared immense trust in one another. 

But when it came to Rick, it was hard to truly understand his emotions. He felt the obligation to suppress his feelings, as well – as if he wasn’t sure when it’d be the right time to make a move with you. Now and again, you’ve encountered a handful of times where he was staring at you – and perhaps your behind – for longer than any other person would deem normal. But he never displayed an interest in getting with you. That was ultimately a grey area to you for a while, and even still now.

⋆｡° ✮

One thing about Spencer was that he could cook. And you were a sucker for men cooking; you found it to be attractive. So he cooked for you, he was tall, and he was cute… what, then, was missing from the list? What was hindering you from making yourself available and willing to this man?

“I have someone else on my mind.”

You reflected back to the night you said that. From then on, those words were ingrained in the back of your brain. They reminded you each day that your feelings for Rick were perpetual and infecting your thoughts like a plague.

For now, you were preoccupied with how satisfying your meal was. As was the wine. It was going to your head a bit — an all too familiar feeling. You just hoped Rick wasn’t awake by the time you returned home. 

“Thank you, Spencer. The dinner was really nice,” You simpered while graciously stepping out the door. 

Spencer held the door open, giving you a warm smile as he watched you turn to face him whilst under the gleaming porch light. “You sure you don’t need me to walk you home? It’s really no issue for me at all.”

The look on his face told you he sure as hell wasn’t ready for you to leave yet — in fact, with the way he had planned the night, he most likely expected to not only wine and dine, but get lucky tonight. However you had your boundaries and your relationship standards, regardless of the fact that there were very slim pickings when it came to finding the ‘right person’; practically ninety percent of the human population was wiped out. 

“I promise. I just live around the corner.”

At last you arrived home, immediately kicking your heels off as you shut the door behind you. You made a mental note to never wear heels again – blisters were already appearing on your feet. You winced as you massaged the reddened tender skin, sighing in relief as your aching feet finally got to breathe and stretch. 

“It’s late.”

You nearly had a heart attack as you stood up and spotted Rick a few feet away from you by the couch. “Would you quit startling me all the time? And yeah, no dip, I was on a date with Spencer. I already told you that, Rick.”

You steadied your heart rate and made your way over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. All while you did so, you could feel Rick’s eyes burning into you. Every inch of your body. You shivered when the chill of the fridge air engulfed you – however, you were sure the shiver was truly from the effect that Rick had on you. 

“I know that. But you’re back late; it’s dark outside,” He paced toward you, his demeanor now more watchful and severe. “There’s a curfew, Y/N.” He was much closer to you now, to the point where you smelled his classic rainy forest scent encompassing your nostrils. 

“Well, I didn’t know. I was asked to have dinner with someone, and it happened to be really good, actually – thank you for asking,” You gibed while filling your cup up with crisp, filtered water. “But, I am sorry. Won’t happen again, Officer!” You quipped, taking a sip from the cup. The water was a refreshing blanket against your tongue and throat, which you thoroughly savored.

Rick didn’t look very pleased with your response, to say the least. His posture was stiff, and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “You think this is a joke, I get it. It sounds like another pipe dream. But if we’re going to be living and staying here, you’re gonna need to follow the rules.”

You set the glass down and ran a hand through your slightly knotted hair, giving your scalp a terse massage with your fingers. Your eyes fixated on Rick, who was towering over you like a bodyguard would. If it were any other man you would feel uncomfortable in this position – backed into the kitchen counter and being scolded by a harrowing, authoritative man. In this case, you were too fond of the man in front of you to feel uncomfortable or threatened in any way. 

“I get it – I know. I want this place to work, just as much as you do,” you added, displaying a poker face to confirm your sincerity. You ran a hand up and down Rick’s forearm, over his veins that protruded as he leaned against the counter in front of you. “I want this to work for the kids. They deserve it.”

Rick didn’t flinch. His eyes bored deep into your own – pupils dilated, taking in your presence. Instinctively, almost like his body was on autopilot – Rick’s hand caressed the side of your face, thumb tracing circles along your cheek. Goosebumps ran down your arms and made the hairs on the back of your neck perk up like a porcupine. Just one touch from this man had you melting like butter.

Time slowed down drastically. Your eyes locked into his, and vice versa. Only inches of space separated you two; you felt the familiar pounding in your chest as Rick drew himself closer and closer. Those romance movies you used to watch were accurate, in the sense that what you were feeling in this moment was butterflies, fireworks – so electrifying. You could feel the sparks race through your body.

Rick felt it, too. He’d been denying it for too long – what he was feeling deep down, within his subconscious, was something authentic. Something that he could no longer evade from his mind.

“You’re on my mind, too.”

It was like an echo coursing through your soul. Those five words left you stunned, mouth slightly agape, but Rick took that chance to collapse his lips onto yours. The longing you had for this man was no longer unrequited – you finally got your answer. He wanted you, and you wanted him. 

His lips were velvety and you took your time giving extra love to them. Soon enough the kiss got heated; you were lifted up onto the counter where Rick wasn’t shy to roam his hands along your thighs, earning a few feeble whimpers from you. 

His lips then attacked your shoulder and collarbone with a series of hickeys, earning more vocal whines from you now. “Rick…”

He quickly hushed you, shoving two fingers into your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, baby,” he cooed, admiring how your tongue caressed his fingers so magnetically. Your eyes pleaded with him – begged for more. “They won’t see those—” he eyed the now reddened area of skin, “Jus’ don’t dress like a slut and you’ll be alright.”

In your mind you wanted to blurt out a well-deserved retort, however, in all honesty, Rick meant it in the best way. 

“Too special to be showing off this figure to all them boys, sweetheart.” He bent down to worship your thighs, spreading them open for him to kiss and prod at.

He was right, though – Spencer wouldn’t be able to make you feel this way. You knew it deep down.

You bit your lip harshly, suppressing any vocal responses for the time being – didn’t need the kids to hear any of this. But Rick was just too good at whatever it was he was doing to you.

“Need you, Rick,” You whined – which ultimately translated to a strained moan.

“Shh, Shh. I know you do,” he cooed, standing back up. He let his fingers trace over your closed cunt, the dampness leaking through the thin fabric and leaving a sticky coat on his digits. Your hands explored his curls, tugging at them the more he teased you. “Gotta be patient, though. Gonna take my sweet time with you.”

You were becoming antsy, bucking your hips into his palm, searching for friction. He slid his other hand up your dress, the contact of his hand greeting your hardened nipple caused you to shiver. His ocean eyes observed you – adoring the glow of your skin under the faded moonlight seeping into the room.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

“Stop talking and just take me upstairs, officer,” You huffed out, earning a small smirk from Rick. You wrapped your arms and legs tight around him, moaning quietly when your heat unexpectedly made contact with his own clothed member, which was already rock hard. You left a trail of kisses along his neck as he carried you up the stairs, groping your ass in one hand. 

Rick wasted absolutely no time in slipping your dress up and over your shoulders, practically ripping the fabric as he did so. You attempted to cover up your breasts, but he pried away your hands. 

“Nuh uh, let me see,” he protested, taking the round flesh in his hands and kneading them. You blushed, clearly shy; but Rick reminded you of your beauty nonetheless through his actions.

One thing Rick always loved about you was your patience and loyalty; you were coined as the group’s dependable and candid guardian, because anytime anyone needed a word of advice or a listening ear you’d never fail to do so. 

Currently, Rick admired how patient you were while he went to work on your sweet pussy – lapping up all your sweet juices after tearing off your drenched panties.

“Mmph, Rick!” You wailed, eyes flickering shut as a wave of euphoria washed over your body.

He was eating you out like you were the Last Supper, and he was a starved peasant. Your cunt was his god and he was there to serve it. 

You wrapped your legs around his shoulders, toes curling in delight as his digits switched positions with his tongue, pumping in and out of your soaking heat. He pressed his tongue flat on your pulsing clit, heightening your pleasure to the max. 

“F-fuck me!” You cried out, hips jutting forward to meet the pace of his fingers and tongue. Pressure was building deep in your core.

Without notice Rick paused his movements, leaning forward to connect his panting mouth with your own, stifling your moans. His kisses were sloppy, as were yours. He continued his pace, eventually focusing on your clit which throbbed under the determined motion of his thumb. Then he slipped three digits back into your drenched cunt, accelerating the pace he was going at before. He curled the fingers upward, pushing against that sacred spot in your hole that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, hm? Gonna be a good whore f’me?” He taunted. Rick’s eyes were dark and blown out with lust. You were shuddering under him, on the brink of orgasm. 

“Ohh! Fuuuck!” You let the band in your gut snap, feeling the pressure inside release and your dripping arousal coating Rick’s fingers. 

He aided you in riding out the rest of your earth-shattering climax, pumping his digits a few more times before sliding them out. The sight before him had Rick holding himself back with every ounce of his inner strength – your cunt was a sopping, wet mess. 

Rick sat you up properly, hovering over you and holding his fingers above your lips. “Taste, baby.” 

You gingerly sucked on his fingers, the juices spilling onto your tongue; an almost nectary taste. He eyed the way you drank up every last drop, licking his lips in anticipation. After pulling his fingers from your lips he kissed you again, this time much softer. You both moaned into the kiss, and eventually when Rick broke away you took a moment to catch your breath. He licked his lips, admiring how fucked out you looked just from foreplay.

“Can’t wait to feel you,” He rasped. Your legs were still weak and wobbly from your latest orgasm, yet, your body ached for more. For him.

Soft whimpers left your pouted lips when you felt his rough hands grasp your thighs, pushing them upward until they were folded up against your tummy. Rick hastily threw off his white t-shirt and let out a low growl as he freed his aching cock from his boxers. You bit your lip – it was girthy, and you knew it was going to do some damage tonight. That only made you wetter.

He stroked himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He slid his dick against your slick folds, huffing and groaning from the contact. You whined, unable to handle the teasing he was putting you through. 

“Rick, please—”

“Said I was gonna take my time,” He retorted in a rigid tone, and you gulped in response. “So, be patient.”

The only thing you could do at that moment was bite your lip and prepare for your cunt to be stuffed by this man’s cock. It was an odd thing to consider – being best friends with someone and flipping that platonic relationship into something more explicit, just through the simple act of gossipping. At the end of the day, you were getting fucked by a man who was not only your closest friend, but the leader of your community. It almost felt taboo, and yet you just couldn’t care less at that moment.

Seconds felt like minutes, the teasing was just too much. Rick kept playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves, only slightly pushing in the tip. Your core was on fire, pleading desperately for him to tame it. 

The sight before him was almost pitiful. You were caught in a fit of heavy breathing and whimpering, legs wrapping tight around his waist as you rocked your hips closer to him, cunt still glistening with arousal that seeped onto his pink tip. 

So, Rick pitied you. And you got your wish; his cock sunk into you, all the way until he bottomed out. You scrunched up your face in slight discomfort – he was bigger than you had anticipated. Nevertheless, you sighed in satisfaction, clawing at his back and shoulders as he adjusted inside you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” He growled, nibbling on your ear. His warm breath caused your body to shiver. “You just– can’t be patient no more, can ya?”

Your mind was clouded – all thoughts halted as your body was being governed by Rick. He rocked into you with ease, back and forth, in and out. His cock fit into your hole like a glove. Your legs caged him in; it was as if you were afraid he’d slip away and tease you again. It just felt so good you didn’t want it to stop.

Your lewd cries were soon muffled by Rick’s hand. “Shhh, gotta be quieter, sweetheart.” But it was nearly impossible to stay quiet when he was doing you so well.

With his hand then shifting down to lightly grasp your neck, Rick slammed into you, pulling all the way out only to repeat the motion again. You bit your lip hard, drawing blood. The pain didn’t exist in any way, since your body was so engrossed in the electric sensation that was being fed to you by Rick’s cock.

The room was polluted with salacious grunts and muffled moans. 

Rick tossed you over onto your hands and knees, then without warning plunged back into you. His hands gripped both your asscheeks with a force that you were sure would leave lovely red marks. Each smack of his hips against your ass manifested obscene vocals from your throat. Involuntarily your body made contact with the mattress, head lulling to the side and drool dripping from the corner of your lips as Rick picked up his pace. 

“You wanted this, knew it all along.” He cooed while fucking you into the plush mattress. “I knew it – before you even mentioned it.”

“How?” You thought. But little did you know, the clues you had sent Rick’s way ever since you had first laid eyes on him – he caught onto them. He was a police officer, after all – he was seasoned when it came to situational awareness. You weren’t slick; he noticed every little glance, every smile, every physical gesture you made with him. You fell for him.

And if he wasn’t already falling for you, then he certainly was now.

“Thaaaas right, just like that. Fuck, so tight f’me,” He sang while your ass slapped against his hips, harmonizing with the sound of his cock pounding into your slick hole.

Your fingers dug into the sheets for stability, preparing yourself for the building knot in your core again. “I’m—gonna cum!” You lifted your head weakly to warn Rick, who was too busy drowning in the warmth of your tight cunt.

Rick padded your clit with his fingers, while his other hand pushed down onto the back of your neck, subsequently pushing your body back into the mattress. His mischievous eyes caught sight of your twitching, shaking body, and he sighed heavily from the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. 

“Go ‘head, cum f’me.” 

With his permission you yelped out as yet another orgasm rushed through you. You barely acknowledged the twitching of his cock inside your dripping hole before he swiftly pulled out and unloaded onto your back.

A few ticks went by, heavy panting escaping the two of you, and immobility in full effect over you. Your thoughts came back to you as Rick cleaned you up; the fact that you went on a date with a man then went home to be dicked down by another was quite humorous to you. 

“Geez, maybe I should go on more dates just for you to fuck me like that again,” You teased Rick, sitting up.

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and kissing you gently. You blushed and smiled coyly. 

“Nah. You’re mine now, sweetheart. No one else’s.”

[sen-ya]

part 5/7

is it silly that this is my favorite in this series? i really enjoyed writing kaya and I wanna do it again at some point :')

[op comic masterpost]

[pg1] panel 2: Kaya: Oh! Dr. Law! I didn't expect to find you in our library.

panel 3: Law: K-Kaya-ya!

panel 4: Law: Uh. Ahem. Excuse me. I hope you don't mind me borrowing your books.

panel 5: Kaya: Oh of course not! I'm just shocked to hear we have books you don't! What are you studying?

panel 6: Law: UHHHHH

[pg2] panel 10: Kaya: Oh! Is someone on your crew pregnant? Ikkaku??

panel 11: Law (thinking): She doesn't know Ikkaku is trans. Does she not know that I am?? I just assumed Nose-ya would have mentioned it. But that makes sense. If Straw Hat didn't already know Nose-ya was trans it's not like I would have told him.

panel 12: Kaya: ...?

panel 13: Law (thinking): Fuck, I've been quiet too long. I can't throw Ikkaku under to bus. Just say something.

panel 14: Law: No. Kaya: Oh. Then why...? Law (thinking): Wait, shit

[pg3] panel 15: Law: My, uh...brother...'s...wife. Yeah, we're taking him back to Zou soon...because his wife is pregnant...and I...want...to help...?

panel 16: Kaya: Oh, how sweet! Congrats "Uncle Law" hehe. If you have any questions I could help with let me know!! I specialized in traumatic injury, but I did deliver a few babies in Syrup Village! On smaller islands like that you wear a lot of hats.

panel 17: Law: And you've...been pregnant. Kaya: Well, yeah, but I wasn't my own doctor! Could you imagine if I had tried to deliver the twins myself? Even a doctor needs a doctor, you know that.

panel 18: Law: ...right.

panel 19: Law: ...what...what was it like?

panel 20: Kaya: Oh, my pregnant patients were actually pretty fun! I suppose it makes sense that as a pirate ship doctor you wouldn't have had to know obstetrics. But it was always so lovely to hand a parent their--

[pg4] panel 21: Kaya: ...newborn...baby...?

panel 23: Kaya: ...I'm sorry, Dr. Law. If there's context I need you'll have to give it to me. I'm not good at guessing.

panel 24: Law: What do you mean, I just gave you context. Kaya: With all due respect, you're full crying. It's a new sight for me!

panel 25: Kaya: You can tell me what's going on! I'm told I'm a very good listener

panel 26: Law: ...You Straw Hats sure are a pain Kaya: Sorry, hehe

panel 28: Law: ...I...ahem...so number one, if you didn't know...I'm...I'm trans.

panel 29: Law: But not like your husband. He got the works from Ivankov-ya...I never felt the need to seek that out.

[pg5] panel 30: Kaya: ...I see

panel 31: Kaya: How far along are you? Law: ..12 weeks, give or take. Kaya: Well, I've provided obstetric care of all kinds. So whatever questions you're researching here...why don't you ask me instead of being your own doctor?

panel 32: Law: ...Same question. What was it like?

panel 33: Kaya: Being pregnant was a horror show!

panel 34: Law: A glowing review. Kaya: Oh, sorry! I can lie if you'd prefer!

panel 35: Kaya: I was just so sick my first trimester! Law (speaking over her): KAYA-YA I THOUGHT I WAS DYING FOR TWO WEEKS WHEN WILL IT STOP I CAN ONLY EAT RICE.

panel 36: Kaya: It's different for everyone. By the end it wasn't quite so bad for me, though. And I love my kids so much. They were such cute newborns!! So I was alright being uncomfortable for awhile. Because that's what we wanted, you know?

panel 37: Kaya (off screen): What do you and Luffy want, Dr. Law?

[pg6] panel 38: Law: ...We haven't decided yet. We're giving it to the end of the week. I'm trying to think about it rationally. But I just keep getting emotional any time I talk about it. It's strange.

panel 39: Kaya: An emotional decision and a bad decision aren't inherently synonymous, you know.

panel 40: Law: ...your bedside manner is impeccable, Dr. Kaya-ya. Kaya: Well, thank you! Next time let's meet in the infirmary, mine or yours.

panel 41: Kaya: I'll be your doctor through this, okay?

panel 42: Law: ...Okay...Thank you. Kaya: Of course!

[mulansaucey]

Bat Wives Wine Night

AZRIEL X READER

This is my first thing I’ve put out to public eyes...ever. So please be nice. I had this idea for awhile and this is mostly a teaser to what I truly want to write. I want to make this a full imagine with smut. If you like this idea and want to see a spicier version to how this night ends please let me know. I’m always open to criticism and always looking for advice so as long as we are nice about it let me know what you think. Im gonna start writing more stuff and will be open to requests. Thank you and I hope you like this little teaser. 

PART 2:

WARNINGS: drugs and alch used responsibly, dirty thoughts by the bat boys

CONCEPT: The bat boys finally realize what their mates are up to on their top secret Wine Nights 

“Oh my gods…you’re right” Feyre softly said. 

     Feyre, Nesta, and I were sitting at the River House sipping on wine and enjoying what we call Bat Wives Wine Night when I had the realization that our husbands have had 500 plus years of experience and fun while us wives are in our 20’s being depressed and stressed for majority of our lives. This was unacceptable and not fair at all. We deserve to let loose and live a little. Go drink til we throw up, smoke mirthroot and tobacco as we pleased. To just be stupid, reckless teens. A night where we didn’t have to be perfect, just ourselves. We all looked at each other with understanding that our simple little wine nights just became a lot more fun. 

    “Okay ladies, once a month like we do now we keep letting our mates think we have wine, eat cheese on a platter and gossip. But let’s just go crazy, do whatever we want because we feel like it. Because we can. We’re young, hot, and rich. Let’s just be stupid, not enough to be dangerous but enough to have some memories to laugh fondly at just like our darling husbands. We are Bat Wives, I say we give them a run for their money.” I declare loudly watching my High Lady’s eyes light up with mischief (just like her mate). Nesta’s feline grin gave me the approval I needed from her. Thank the Mother our mates were not here to hear us declare our secret fun. 

    “Our mates will find out though, eventually. Cass is nosey, drills me on what happens on our Wine Nights. Such a gossip…” Nesta whispers the last part. 

    “Plus your mate is the Spymaster…” Feyre concludes by taking a sip of her wine. Yes he is, my beautiful, sweet, loving mate. Azriel. We’ve been married and mated for over a year now. I met him at a time when I swore off love at the nice age of 19 years old. But he was so kind and patient, building up our friendship first and making me feel seen as a person. He is a wonderful male and he had to fight many battles to get where he is today. But I am not Azriel, I’ve barely traveled out of my own court. Our perspectives can be quite different which I love but I want to create my own experiences as well. After the war, after almost dying I realized life can be taken from me at any moment and I want to spend those moments knowing I made good memories. That I lived. Even if it’s once a month with my sister in laws doing something as silly as smoking mirthroot. It’s something to ease the soul, bonding between just us girls. 

    “So what? Let’s see how long we can go til they figure it out. Make it a game, see how far we can go before they find out just how unhinged we are.” I giggle just a bit tipsy. The girls and I burst out laughing and start planning what we should do next month. 

*TWO YEARS LATER*

   Two years and counting. Our darling husbands STILL think we have a quiet night in with some books and snacks. It’s truly comical. It’s also nice to know something they don’t. 

“I’ll miss you.” Az murmurs in my hair, holding me til I walk into the River House front door. I tighten my arms around his waist and breathe him in. He takes a step back looking at me, love and adoration flowing through the bond between us. Az looks heart eyed, as if seeing me for the first time. I can’t tease him because I know for a fact I’m looking at him with the very same look. 

    “Can you guys just make out already so we can start drinking?” Nesta says unamused. I jumped back from Azriel, startled. When did she open the door? Nesta walks further away from us into a deeper part of the house. I turn back to find Az already looking at me. Something about Azriel is he is absolutely clingy in the best way possible. Physical touch and quality time are his love languages, any time we have to part it’s a bit dramatic because we simply hate saying goodbye. It’s the love I’ve always wanted. I love the Wine Nights as he has nights with his brothers to get away but nothings better than coming home and finding my place within his arms. 

    “If you ever wanna leave early just let me know and we can cuddle and I can go down on you.” Az’s cheeky grin showed proudly. I laugh while pushing him, he grabs my wrist playfully holding me to him. He brushes some hair from my cheek and presses his smooth lips to mine. We stand there for what feels like hours just feeling each other's breath mingle, when he glides his naughty tongue against my lips I pull away. Both us panting I say, “Go Az, before I actually ditch them for you.” I giggle. He very reluctantly peels his hands off my body and shoots up the sky with a wink, surely a promise of great fun when he picks me up tomorrow morning. 

        With the mating haze slowly leaving my brain a new found giddiness found its way in. We’ve started doing full on sleepovers instead of a few hours of mingling. That way we can return to the River House and clean up before our mates return to us. Truthfully it started after Feyre had way too many tequila shots and threw up for two hours begging us not to call for Rhys as our “cover” would be blown. I skip into the River House and take a look at my girls. 

    “Ready to fuck shit up?” I ask. “We’ve been ready, we were betting if you two would actually fuck on my front door.” Feyre says as fill her cups with wine, pregaming for later. Nesta laughs while grabbing my hand leading me into Feyre’s room. She has the biggest bathroom and closet for these occasions. We all start getting ready putting on our preferred style of makeup and clothing. Laughing loudly as we gossip about Beron’s hairline that keeps going further back as each year passes. We truly don’t know if it is but we all love roasting that horrible man. Once we are satisfied with our looks for the night we get ready to winnow to Veela, a club the IC doesn’t frequent too often. It’s newer and doesn’t have the huge crowd Rita’s does. It’s perfect, truly. We won’t run into anyone we know, not too crowded, but fun and rowdy. We pack the leftover mirthroot and tobacco from last month and winnow to the club saving us some time. We walk right in finding our usual table free in the corner. 

    “Let’s start with some shots ladies.” Nesta yells out heading to the bar, I’m a bit scared because Nesta’s choices in liquor are questionable at times. Feyre and I start people watching and laughing as we see the funny things the already drunk patrons are doing. I start rolling a blunt and a few j’s also a few cigarettes as I tend to want to smoke one after a good drink or two. Nesta comes back with the shots and our preferred mixed drinks in hand. We raise our glasses cheering for another successful Bat Wives Wine Night. 

    About an hour or so later we are tipsy, Nesta not so as she prefers to smoke mirthroot. Her struggles with drinking have lessened, she has a drink or two while she watches Feyre and I dance on tables. Nesta nursing a joint between her fingers swaying to the music she loved. Nesta says the plant helps her feel connected to it. Whatever, I don't care as long as we do what we want and feel safe doing it. I am a fan of both, I hop off the table and take the joint between my lips taking a long drag before exhaling into her mouth as we both giggle uncontrollably. Her red eyes meet mine, seeing Nesta relaxed and having fun is a privilege and I’m glad she feels safe enough to do so. We all love our mates but I think being with each other brings a new peace to our hearts. Sisters and friends, we are loved. For the first time in a long time we are loved. Her eyes widen, face slack as I laugh and turn I start coughing inhaling sharply as I see them. 

Our husbands. 

Our mates. 

Staring. 

    I gently pull Feyre off the table where she was dancing with two other fae, gently pushing her head to make her see what we see. Feyre chokes on her breath. 

“Shit…” Feyre mutters. Shit, indeed. 

*BOYS POV*

    Flying to the House of Wind, Azriel thought of his sweet mate. Years they’ve indulged their wives in their one night of secrecy. They deserved it, for being selfless and caring. Their mates have sacrificed a lot for them, for the Night Court. But they are busy bodies at heart, they can’t help but be curious. They love their wives, they just want to be included. Azriel lands on the balcony to see Cass and Rhys nursing a glass of whiskey. He walks in and pours himself a glass. 

    “Az, what do you think they do all night?” Cass says looking into his glass, pouting. Rhys looks unamused, Nesta probably told him off for being nosy. “Cass, they’re women. They drink their wine and dish about the new love interest in the books they read. Don’t think too hard you’ll hurt yourself.” Rhys chuckles as Cass throws a pillow at him. Rhys ducking slightly missing the pillow. 

    “I’m not but you know what I’m talking about. They smell like tequila and there’s traces of makeup and good perfume on them. Think about it, what do our mates truly get up to?” Cass says. Azriel sits and starts to think while Rhys and Cass get into it. Azriel the ever observant once couldn't have missed this right? He trusted his mate, knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Right? 

    Rhys stands after an hour or two of them not so obsessively tracking back to all the times they’ve had their Wine Nights. “Let’s go to the house now, we’ll say we forgot something. Catch them off guard.” He looks at the boys in confirmation. All their eyes light up in glee of possibly catching their mates doing something scandalous. But how they underestimate their wives is truly amusing. How they didn’t catch on after two years, even more so. 

    They set off for the River House when they landed there was silence. No giggling or tinking of wine glasses. Nothing. At first panic rushed in thinking someone hurt their mates but once they reached the master bedroom they saw clothes strung across the place, makeup and hair products messily sitting on the counter. The girls usual PJ’s on the floor. They went out.

     Cass scoffs, “I knew it! I KNEW THEY WENT OUT WITHOUT US! HA RHYS, I TOLD YOU!” he booms loudly, happy to be right and Rhys to be wrong. Azriel immediately makes a plan to find them, sending his shadows out. Once he gathered they were in the city they set their sights there. They went to Rita’s, not a trace. They searched restaurants and pleasure halls, Azriel questioning the staff there. They learned not only did they go out tonight but have frequented these places multiple times, without them. They were smart, Az gave them that. The girls used cash wherever they went instead of billing them, going as far as to use fake names and backstories when they would stop by the herb shop to purchase mirthroot and tobacco. Something they did not know their mates indulged in. For a second they questioned their mates, if they truly knew them. Now they for sure were set to find out answers. Azriel’s shadow reported to him they were across the city in a new club. 

    The music was pounding, drunk and high fae dancing or sitting and laughing. Azriel first spotted his High Lady and mate dancing on a table top, Feyre pouring tequila down his mate’s throat. Azriel couldn't lie, the sight made his pants tighten, seeing the hard liquor pouring down his wife’s very low top trickling onto her breasts. Watching her throat bob up and down, very similar sight to when she has him in her mout- “WHAT THE FUCK!” Rhys exclaims though it sounds more like a whisper compared to the very raunchy music booming in the background. Az notes that though Feyre lets loose at Rita’s and has fun, Feyre looks unhinged. As if she wasn’t the High Lady of Night but a 20 something year old who was having fun. Azriel laughed as he watched with his brothers, they stayed in the corner out of the way but still in eye sight of their girls. He watched his mate get off the table and steal the joint Nesta was nursing, blowing it in her mouth. Cass watches just as intently, in fascination and horniness. “I didn’t know they did THIS on their wine nights, I didn’t even know Nes smoked at all.” Cass says. He’s starting to wonder just how nice it would be to get Nesta this relaxed then fuck her for hours under smoke induced love making. Rhys is no better, watching Feyre swing her hips against the strangers around her. Wanting so badly to take her in the bathroom. But first it’s business. 

“Alright, brothers. They’ve had their fun now let’s crash.” Rhys said with a smirk. All together they marched towards their mates and stood waiting for them to realize. All had a mask of indifference though they really wanted to burst out laughing. One by one each girl’s head turned and paled. 

[stevie-petey]

Thank you so much for the new chapter you never cease to amaze me <3. I had a blurb idea for in-between season two and three if you have time.

Bug going to visit El and hopper. She brings treats and books. She helps El basically catch up on all those years she missed out on school. She even spends time with hopper. Helping him clean up before she leaves, or giving him recipes for when El wants something. That also means helping him when it turns out to be a disaster. Teaching El to read,basic math, and spelling. Also teaching her fun stuff like how to make bracelets and how to paint her nails. Basically bug being her big sister/ female figure in her life. I think bug would give El a nickname like Ellie, I think it's so cute. The vision of bug finally having someone to give her hand me downs too. She'd also get her new stuff but only has so much money you know? Thank you mwah❤️

ah thank you for reading !!! ive been DYING to write more scenes with bug and el and hopper, so thank you for the request !!!

enjoy <3

"how do you know where i live?"

you snort at hoppers question. "hello to you too, old man."

hopper rubs his face tiredly as he leans against the doorframe. hes only just managed to kick mike out of his house, and now he has to deal with you? not happening. "go away."

"we both know i own knives."

"stab me, go ahead. youre not coming in."

before you can shove your way in, el sneaks up from behind hopper and pokes her head out the door. she had heard your voice from inside. "y/n!"

the girl shoves hopper aside and throws herself into your arms, and you gladly accept the hug. "hi, sweetheart."

it's been a few weeks since youve last seen her, being confined to your house to heal the wounds from the demodogs and tunnels. the second your mom gave you the all clear, you baked a pile of els favorite cookies and forced mike to tell you where hoppers cabin was.

which leads you to now: hugging el tightly with a backpack full of baked goods and comics to read to her.

"here for me?" el asks you, her eyes shining.

you look at hopper and smirk. "i dont know. am i here for el, hopper?"

he looks between the two of you and curses. el has her arms wrapped firmly around you and shes giving him a warning glare, daring him to say no. accepting that hes been cornered, hopper steps away from the door and motions for you to step inside. "i hate this."

you reach into your backpack and pull out a stash of peanut butter cups you had baked specifically to bribe the old man. "i brought a peace offering."

"well, why didnt you start with that?" hopper snatches the treats from you and sniffs the bag. his face melts into satisfied interest. "not bad, kid."

"i do my best." you shrug, now following el inside as she takes your hand and guides you to the couch. she sits you down and when you pull out the comics, she claps her hands in excitement.

the two of you get settled in, eating the cookies youve baked as you slowly read aloud the stories from the comics. every so often you have el try to read small portions as well, knowing she never received the necessary education due to the men who stole her childhood, and hopper cant help but watch you with el.

he sits at the kitchen table and pretends to read the newspaper, but really hes eating the peanut butter cups as he watches the way you help el sound out difficult words and giggle together. despite his annoyance towards you for showing up on his doorstep unannounced, hopper cant help but smile as he watches.

youre sweet with el, patient and understanding, and hopper now understands why joyce speaks so highly of you all the time. the woman had told him that youd been a such a gift to her family, and as hopper watches el practically light up in your presence, he finally accepts the womans words.

youre the best of the kids.

theres no denying that.

and if that means that hopper now has to make room in his cupboard for baking ingredients so that he can help you keep your own baking needs supplied, then so be it. he'll even make room for the nail polish and comics that will inevitably make their way into his home because of you.

hes happy to help you, to repay you for your kindness to el, even if hopper groans and complains the whole time.

[cowboythighs]

When Wayne took Eddie in, his biggest worry was that he was going to screw the poor kid up even more than his parents already had. After all, what did he know about taking care of a kid? How would he know what his nephew didn’t know- what Wayne needed to teach him? And how was he going to manage raising a whole little human and provide for them both? But to his surprise, Wayne soon found out that Eddie was shockingly self-sufficient. That he’d had to learn how to cook and clean and do laundry for himself, because his parents were too caught up in themselves and their own issues to take care of him.

Wayne’s momentary relief that he wasn’t starting from ground zero was soon replaced by a level of resentment towards Eddie’s parents. It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been forced to rely on himself so much. It hurt Wayne to see someone so young worrying the way he did about not using too much water; hurt watching Eddie silently going behind Wayne to turn off unused lights because he worried about the bills being too high to pay.

When he figured out Eddie's lemonade stand wasn’t set up to fund a new comic or toy, but rather to try and pay his share for room and board, Wayne took Eddie to the local thrift store and headed straight for the toys section. He was stern when he told Eddie to keep his money, and that they were not leaving until Eddie had an armful of his own toys because Wayne was determined to make sure Eddie had the chance to be a kid.

He watched as Eddie slowly pursued through the selection of toys- inspecting them carefully. When Wayne caught on that Eddie was looking at the price tags he gently admonished him; told him these are used toys; they’re cheap enough and that Eddie didn’t have to worry about money with him.

Eddie tried to argue, insisted that he knows how this goes and appreciates the thought, he really does think it’s nice that Uncle Wayne wants him to have fun stuff to play with, but he knew that just because they have money now it didn’t mean they won’t somehow come up short later, and how he’d much rather have heat than a GI Joe.

Wayne tried to be patient, to not to be as gruff as was his nature as he told Eddie “I may not be your daddy, but you're my boy and I’m gonna take care of you”. Wayne told him it was time to stop fussing and enjoy being a kid. Wayne allowed himself a smile when Eddie relented and picked out a handful of toys.

When they passed the book display as they walked towards the register Wayne stopped. “You like readin’?'' he asks. Eddie looks longingly at the books but only shrugs.

“Don’t know, never had any books to read”. Eddie says it like it doesn’t matter, but his face betrays him.

“They had books in school, didn’t they?” Wayne asked. Eddie just gave another shrug.

“Guess so. I didn't get to go to school very often. Mom and dad were almost always too tired or too sick in the mornings to take me. and we moved around a lot. When we lived close I could walk to school by myself as long as I had clean clothes. If you go to school dirty, teachers get too nosey," Eddie stated like it was common knowledge, “and then they call your parents and you get in trouble and have to move again. But mostly it was too far to walk so I couldn’t go anyways.”

Wayne’s heart felt like it was breaking anew with each detail of casual neglect his nephew had to endure. It wasn’t right for a kid so young to have gone through so much and be so nonchalant about it. Making up his mind he directed Eddie over to the books and told him he can have whatever he wants. There's a slim selection of children’s books to choose from, but it's a place to start.

Wayne watched Eddie's eyes as they kept wandering back to a boxed set with dragons and wizards on the spine. Wayne picked up the set of the Lord of the Rings books without a word and took the set up to the register with Eddie trailing behind. They were far too advanced for a kid his age, especially one as far behind as Eddie, but Wayne decided he would read to him every night. would read aloud the stories of Bilbo and Frodo and Middle Earth and watch Eddie's love for learning grow.

Wayne was proud when time passed and Eddie started leaving dirty dishes in the sink and letting his room get messy. He didn’t mind when Eddie took a long shower or stayed up late writing his own stories. Wasn’t disappointed when he got held back in school, or spent his free time playing games of make believe with his friends. Because he knew better than anyone that Eddie had a rough start in life and had been playing catch up for a long while. And besides, it gave him a chance to be a kid just a little longer, and there was nothing Wayne wanted more than that.

[p0is0nandker0sene]

Tell me about MCR! I only know a little bit about the band.

Goodness where do I begin!

My Chemical Romance is a band from new jersey formed in 2001 by Gerard Way. Gerard was previously working as an intern at cartoon networks and was more a comic and children's cartoon artist than musician. After witnessing the 9/11 tragedy first hand, he wrote the first mcr song 'skylines and turnstiles' and decided to form the band with his friend Matt (Otter) Pelissier (drums). His younger brother mikey way came up with the band name while working in a bookshop after seeing Irvine Walsh's novel "three tales of chemical romance" and suggesting that putting "my" in front of it would be a cool band name.

Gerard then asked guitarist Ray Toro to be their lead guitarist as Gerard couldn't play guitar well enough to perform live. Mikey then later joined as the bassist (despite having little bass playing experience, unlike ray who was classically trained).

While signed to their record label 'eyeball records', the band met frank iero who was the guitarist and vocalist of his own band 'pencey prep' who were also signed to eyeball records. Frank loved my Chem and was basically their first fan. His band split up and he then became the rhythm guitarist (mainly because young ray toro wrote too many guitar lines for him to be able to perform live) a few days before the first album 'I brought you my bullets, you brought me your love' was recorded and later released in 2002. Frank was able to record 2 songs with them, which were 'early sunsets over monroeville' and 'honey, this mirror isn't big enough for the two of us'.

I don't wanna drag on too much longer on what was meant to be a brief background, but they then started writing 'three cheers for sweet revenge', which was released 2004. The album centres around the concept of a couple who are separated in a gunfight; he dies and goes to hell but she lives. The devil makes a deal with him that if he brings him the souls of a 1000 evil men, he can be with her again. This period in time the band's alcohol habits, particularly Gerard's were at their worst, but after a near death experience, Gerard decided to get clean and sober. At this point Matt Pelissier has left the band due to refusing to use a metronome and change his drumming style. He gets replaced by Bob Bryar.

Then they wrote their most successful and well known album 'the black parade' in 2006 which centres around a character called 'the patient' who dies and has death come to him in the form of a parade which is his fondest memory as a child. There are lots of characters in the black parade, including 'mother war', 'pepe', 'fear and regret', and the devil who appears in the form of a wolf.

The black parade's musical style is very different to bullets and three cheers. It's a rock opera and takes influences from Queen and other glam rock bands.

My Chem then went on a short hiatus in 2008/9. During this time, frank started another band called 'leathermouth', which was a short lived hardcore band, and Gerard released the second umbrella academy comic book (the first was released a year prior).

They then released their new album 'danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys', in 2010 which is the album that is by far the most different from their typical style. At this point Bob has been kicked out for reasons that are still fairly up in the air, and is replaced by Mike Pedicone. The concept of this album is entwined with Gerard's comic book that he wrote. The story revolves around a post apocalyptic 2019 where the world is ruled by a totalitarian corporation called 'better living industries' (BLI) and a group of rebels called the killjoys fight against them and their soldiers (draculoids, basically stormtroopers, exterminators who are in the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W unit, namely Korse who is a main antagonist. Each band member gave themselves a killjoy persona and had distinct outfits and guns to match. Gerard is Party Poison, Ray is Jet Star, Mikey is Kobra Kid, and Frank is Fun Ghoul. The killjoys protect a character called the girl and in one of the music videos, they die protecting her. The comic book of the same name is about the Girl's life after the killjoys have died and how she defeats BLI.

Mike then gets kicked out of the band after being caught stealing from the band. They still don't have a permanent drummer.

They then released a not-album called 'conventional weapons' in 2012 which was going to be an album with no story concept or characters, but they didn't like it so they scrapped it. Despite being released in 2012, it was recorded in 2009.

They also announced they were working on a fifth album with the working title 'mcr5', a name that has haunted mcr fans for years with the hopes of a new full-length album after years.

Mcr then announced their break up on 22 March 2013.

In 2014 they released a greatest hits album called 'may death never stop you' with a previously unreleased track called "fake your death".

Post breakup, the guys started their own solo projects. Gerard made his album 'hesitant alien', frank from 2014 to 2019 had his own solo bands called 'Frank iero and the celabration/patience/ future violents and another project called 'death spells' , Ray wrote and produced his album 'remember the laughter', and mikey formed his own band 'electric century'.

In 2016 they released a 10th anniversary album for the black parade titled 'living with ghosts' which featured demo's and unreleased tracks.

Then, on the 31st of October 2019, my Chem created an instagram account and announced their reunion. They posted a heap of videos relating to revival and rituals. They had a reunion show in LA. They had heaps of global tours planned for 2020, 2021 and 2022 (my show was meant to be in 2022), but because of covid they had to postpone.

In may 2022 they released their first song in nearly 10 years, 'the foundations of decay'.

We're all still hoping they'll drop a new album, which is why we were all so excited about the cryptic post they made which ended up possibly not being mcr5, but a black parade stadium tour. But we're not losing hope for new content and even black parade lore because of the new stuff in the video they dropped recently.

Mcr is both my all time favourite rock band and my special interest, I've been a fan since October 2018 when I discovered them in a video titled "harry potter characters theme songs".

I started adding their songs to my new rock playlist (I was getting into rock when I was 13/4) and realised I was getting really into the band so I decided to learn more about them by looking at their wiki, looking at memes, and watching MVs and interviews.

It honestly just accelerated from there with fan art, memes, fanfiction, interviews, solo projects, fandom activities, and of course crying at 2am to their sad music videos and songs (and about the fact that at this point they were broken up and I thought they would never get back together again 🫣)

That is still, despite how huge that was, a condensed version of the 23 years of my chemical romance and 6 years of me being a fan :) there's tons of little details and facts about the guys, about the songs, the albums, the concepts, the things that happened, before, during, in between, after, and during again.

But thank u for asking me about my Chem! I knew I'd write an essay about them 🫣

[madlittlecriminal]

[04] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: Danny is an oc, mention of death in the family (not reader or miguel related), mention of pregnancy (not reader), annoying customers, two cliffhangers in one (im sorry), patrick o'hara (web-slinger)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Another day, another employee seeming to irritate him to the core. Miguel didn't understand what was so hard for this guy to understand that no meant no, but seeing him beg Miguel for a day off when his PTO ran out was comical to say the least.

"For the last time, Danny, you used up your PTO. I cannot give you the day off simply because you don't want to work. If you were at work more often instead of doing whatever you want to do, then maybe you'd have the day off." He says while leaning back in his chair.

"But you don't understand! I need the day off, Mr. O'Hara! Please!"

"Give me a valid reason why and I'll think about it." It was bullshit. The only way Danny was going to get out of this is if his fiancée was giving birth or if he had a death in the family. For any other reason, Danny was going back to work and Miguel didn't care if Danny was going to throw a fit.

He was honestly surprised that Danny and his fiancée were still together considering he hardly works and they live together.

"Well...you see..." Danny started, but he couldn't come up with a valid excuse other than not wanting to work.

Miguel waited for him, his leg folded to where his ankle rested on his knee and his hands folded on top of his abdomen. He tilted to the side as he listened to Danny stutter.

"Danny, I'm a patient man. However, your stutter isn't natural. You're nervous because you can't come up with a lie right now and that's fine. However, don't expect me to listen to you if you can't come up with a lie. Get back to work."

Danny grumbled before leaving Miguel's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Slamming doors como si paga por algo-" he paused and shuddered. "Oh God, I sound like my mother." (like of you pay for something-) Miguel shook his head and fixed his blazer before going to type on his computer before his phone rang. A small smile formed on his lips when he saw your name pop up on the screen, but he didn't answer it until the third ring.

"I thought you gave me a fake number there for a second." You let out a sigh, making Miguel let out a shy chuckle, fidgeting with his pen as he tried to tell himself to relax from how hard his heart was thumping in his chest with nerves.

"Nope. Right number." He says, leaning back into his chair again as he heard you put the phone down.

"Good! Okay, I had a weird question to ask you." You say, everything around you sounding much louder which he automatically connected it to you putting the phone on speaker.

"Ask away." He reaches over and grabs his glass of water with a trembling hand from his nerves.

"Why did you need to know about interior designers and such?"

Miguel smirks, thanking whoever that it was a phone call and not in person communication or a video call. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Of course it is."

He heard you huff out a breath and he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

There had to be flaws somewhere in you...right? I mean, he only saw perfection-

'No. Stop it, Miguel. Not yet. Don't fall just yet.'

"Well, I'll let you go. I have a cake to work on."

Before he could get a word in, you hung up.

Miguel put his phone down and let out a chuckle. He rests his elbow on the arm rest of his desk chair, his chin resting on his palm as he let his mind wander a bit.

Where did his mind wander to exactly?

To you.

He wondered if your hands were rough or surprisingly soft. He wondered where you learned to bake. Was it taught to you by a parent or guardian? Did you learn from recipe books? YouTube videos? I mean, he had to thank someone for your talent. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you were self taught.

He shook his head before a soft knock was heard from his office door. He looked up and immediately regretted it when he saw the look of shock and anxiousness on Lyla's face.

"They're here for the meeting, Mr. O'Hara."

He got up and buttoned his blazer before following Lyla out of his office and into the conference room. He knew Lyla well enough that when she said his last name, it wasn't Alchemax business.

-----

You raise a brow at the man in front of you who was asking for a gender reveal cake.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want a gender reveal cake, but instead of the usual pink and blue and you do black?"

You blink at him.

"Black and...?"

"Just black."

"Do you want the frosting black?"

"No. I want the cake to be black."

"Sir, that's not how a gender reveal cake works. If you want, I can do black and whi-"

"No, I want black."

"What's the gender?"

"Boy."

"Okay. So you want everything to be black?"

He nods.

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

You stood there for a bit, screaming internally as you head to the back to take out a vanilla cake you just made. You quickly made black frosting with food coloring before decorating the cake. When you triple checked that it was perfect, you showed it to the customer.

"You made sure it was blue on the inside, right?"

You wanted to throw it at the customer.

"Sir, you told me you didn't want to do pink or blue, you wanted black."

"Yeah. The frosting."

You clenched your teeth before forcing a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need it within the next two hours or so."

"Come again?"

He gave you a nod before stepping out of the bakery.

"Customers piss me off sometimes." You murmur.

"Do they? I'm sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen before they meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Hey darlin'. Hope I'm not interrupting anythin' important." Patrick says softly, giving his charming country boy smile that made you relax.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

[wild-lavender-rose]

Hi, I was just wondering if you're planning to do a part 2 for the Hawkeye story where the reader falls and gets hurt?

Hey! So, I was looking over that fic and realized that I promised a part two like, three years ago *face palms*. You are one of the many, many people who have asked me, anon and off, to write the second part of the story. So here we are! The long awaited part two of Falling. Enjoy <3

Falling (part 2)

Warning: description of injury, mention of surgery, cannon typical swearing, brief intense kiss

Time passed by without your notice. You existed in a haze, in and out of sleep as people existed around you, caring for your injuries. The pain that had been absent at first hit you like a bomb. You had a vague memory of screaming before they put you under, begging for the pain to end.

Three nails or four? You couldn't remember. Once, in the blurred existence of your concussion, you heard someone say five nails. Five nails buried deep within your thigh, extricated one by one in a three hour surgery. Twenty five stiches, that you knew for sure. You had asked Margaret once when you were lucid, watching as she changed your bandage with the discreetness of an expert nurse.

"Hawkeye did a great job," she assured you, with a kindness you didn't expect but gratefully accepted. "You'll barely have a scar."

Hawkeye had been there almost constantly. You didn't have to be awake to feel his presence. His presence felt like warm sunshine on a spring morning. You always felt safer, stronger, when he was around. If you had been in your right mind, you would have been embarrassed and ashamed because of his attention. But in your weakened state, you yielded to the attention.

At night, when you struggled to sleep from the pounding in your head, his fingers would card through your hair until you drifted off. He always whispered to you, careful to keep the noise around you lowered as you suffered through your concussion. He told you stories of his dad and things he would do as a boy. Some things were funny, some were sad. When you were awake you would thank him without meeting his eyes. And when you were resting, he would hold your hand. Once, you cautiously squeezed his finger, heart jumping when he squeezed them back.

You recovered over time, until you were well enough to sit in bed and eat the small meals that the nurses brought to you. Radar even brought you a piece of chocolate, and Klinger drove to a meadow three miles outside of camp just to pick you a bunch of wild flowers to put by your bed. Your vision was still blurry, so sometimes B.J. would read to you. Potter ensured that a screen was put up around your bed so that you could have privacy from the wounded soldiers. It felt nice to be cared for. But the best thing was being able to pretend, just for a while, that Hawkeye cared for you the most.

You were testing out your eyesight by trying to read one of Radar's bold printed comics when the sound of an argument burst into the post-op wing. It was Hawkeye and Frank.

"It's not my fault she couldn't keep her balance, Klinger's the one who,"

"Klinger didn't do one damn thing to make her fall, Frank. You were the one who told them to go up there."

"So?!" Frank's voice squeaked. "What should I have done, hang the banner myself?" He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Footsteps sounded, heading towards your screened in bed. You dropped the comic book.

"Go near her and I'll hang you by your toes, Frank. She's my patient and I gave orders for no visitors."

That wasn't exactly true. When Hawkeye said no visitors he really meant no Frank.

"You can't scare me." Frank sneered. "You're just using her little fall as an excuse to have her all to myself. You can't fool me, taking all the night post-op shifts so you can be with her."

Your heart stopped and stomach twisted. Your fingers fisted the blanket, straining to hear more.

"Shut up, Frank." Hawkeye's tone was even and deadly.

Frank scoffed again. "With the way she looks at you, she probably fell just to get your attention."

"Leave. Now."

Frank was silent. Maybe he had finally noticed the dangerous edge in Hawkeye's voice. You couldn't breathe. The silence filled the room, their words thickening the air.

Finally, without saying a word, the footsteps turned and walked away, followed by an angry banging against the swinging doors as Frank left post-op.

The silence stayed thick and overwhelming. You looked down, feeling self-conscious in the big shirt you were wearing. Some of the buttons were undone. You fiddled with them, shaky fingers trying vainly to button the flap closed. Tears of embarrassment began to make hot trails down your face.

Hawkeye entered your little makeshift room. You could feel his gaze on you.

"I need to go." You whispered, voice cracking. "Back to my tent, away from here."

"You're not ready yet. Your stitches,"

"I'll take care of them myself." You dropped the buttons and tried to wipe your tears away. "Please let me go."

"I can't."

"Please."

The cot squeaked as Hawkeye sat down beside you. You dared to look up at him, surprised to find an expression on his face you didn't understand.

Moving slowly, Hawkeye reached out to cradle the side of your face. It was an action he had done many times when he thought you were sleeping. He leaned forward. Before you had time to think your lips touched and time stopped.

Hawkeye kissed you deeply, earnestly, with a love you had never wanted and desperately craved. Shock melted into relief. Your hands found his hair while his thumbs wiped the tears off your face, kissing him as if his taste was your air. He leaned against you, hands sliding down to your waist.

You gasped softly into his mouth as he eased you back onto the bed, breaking the kiss as your thigh gave a painful throb.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Hawkeye hovered over you, blue eyes full of concern.

You nodded, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Are you just trying to make me feel better?"

A soft smile softened his face. "I have many layers of intention."

"What does that mean?" You asked, expecting a joke.

"I love you."

You blinked, your fingers freezing against his shirt.

Hawkeye nodded, smile widening into a grin. "I do, sweetheart. I love you."

Slowly, you smiled back. "I love you too."

"Really?" Hawkeye looked as if he had just won the lottery, his grin making your heart beat hard and fast. "Well then," his grip tightened on your waist. "Next time you want to get my attention, maybe don't fall off a support beam. Deal?"

You blushed and nodded, smiling into another kiss.

And that was the day you and Hawkeye fell for each other.

Fanfic Masterlist

[simplydannie]

Fanfic on how Veneer Got his pet goldfish, and when the fish died??

:D❤️

Hi pookie! You got it! So Veneer had always wanted a pet. Since a kid he was fascinated by animals. In this particular story, he lives in Mount Rageous. Now if you come to think of it, it’s a very superficial and synthetic culture. Not a lot of nature going on. You’re lucky enough to have some sort of pet. Veneer has always wanted one, but has kind of an issue to where having one is hard:

Sparkles

“So having a dog or cat is not an option?” Vivian asked, the twins mother.

“Unfortunately, not. He has enough breathing problems already. The fur of the animal will only aggravate him more.”

She turned to her son. Veneer was sitting on the hospital bed playing tic-tac-toe with Velvet, a tube connected to his nose. He had another breathing attack. It was his sister that found him…lying on his bedroom floor, nearly blue. The doctor said if she was a minute too late, it would have been fatal.

“He….he gets lonely. Veneer can’t do much with the other kids at school. No one is patient enough to just sit with him, except his sister. He…” His mother began to break down in tears, “Doctor he doesn’t have any friends. As mother that just…that just hurts that he is over looked just because of his condition. While his sister can go to school some days, he stays home, he’s not invited to any parties, no one comes to his. What do I do?” She sobbed.

The doctor placed a hand on Vivians shoulder. She sighed and wrote on a piece of paper handing it to the twins mother, “They may not be a cat or a dog, but these types of pets should suffice for your son.” She smiled tenderly.

“Thank you.” She whispered to the doctor. Vivian composed herself before turning to her twins, “Alright guys! Time to go home.”

Veneer had to spend the next two days home from school…That Friday evening, Velvet had gotten an invitation to a birthday party from one of the girls in their class.

“Did she send one for me too?” Veneer asked sitting up on his bed, the tube still connected to his nose and hand, pushing fluids through his body.

“…No…No she didn’t. I asked her but…” Velvet looked away.

“But what?” He asked.

“She said you weren’t invited because she didn’t want you getting people sick.”

“Oh….” A moment of silence passed between the twins. Velvet looked at her brother, she saw the tears forming in his eyes. He tried fighting it, but he failed, one by one they fell down his cheek and on to his covers.

“Forget her. I’m not going to her stupid party anyway. She likes unicorns.” Velvet made a disgusted face.

“Vels…You like unicorns too.” He gave her a serious look.

“Yeah, but I like the cool unicorns.”

“There are no cool unicorns! Now dragons are cool!” Veneer exclaimed, a smile coming across his face. That’s what Velvet wanted to see. Did she want to go to the party? Yes, but not when it would hurt her brothers feelings. He NEVER got invited anywhere…and she hated it…..More silence.

“Vels, you need to go.” She looked at him quizzically, “You need to have friends. Don’t be alone because of me. Eventually I’ll make friends…for now I have you and mom, and dad! It’s okay Vels. Go…for me…please.” He pouted his lip and widened his eyes.

“No…no! Don’t do that!” But that made him pout his lip even more, “Ugggggh. Fine! But I’m definitely spitting into her cake before she eats it!”

That evening Veneer spent his day alone in his room. He read comic books, drew, watched TV, played video games. When his parents came up to see him, he was writing something…He was writing how he wanted a friend, it didn’t matter who or what, big or small, he just wanted a friend.

“What you writing about kiddo?” His father sat at the foot of his bed.

“Nothing!” Veneer held his journal near his chest, hiding it from the view of his father.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Big boy now has secrets.”

“I- no they’re not secrets.” Veneer looked away. His mother came in, holding something behind her back. Veneer grew curious, looking back and forth between his mother and father.

“Sweetie, now, you know why you can’t have a dog correct?” His mother asked him. Veneer nodded. “Well, the doctor said just because you can’t have a dog, doesn’t mean you can’t a little companion.” She brought forward what she was hiding behind her back. Encased in a pretty little bowl was a beautiful little goldfish…except, he wasn’t entirely gold. As he swam and hit the lights, his scales reflected red, gold, and yellow hues, shining and shimmering. He was beautiful.

“Whoa.” Veneer grasped the bowel gently in his hands, squishing his face on it. “Hi!” The small little fish took notice of Veneer and stared at him curiously, nearing him. “He’s so pretty!”

“He’s going to need a name.” His father stated. Veneer looked at the goldfish. He saw how his scales sparkled in the light…That’s it!

“Sparkles. I am going to call him Sparkles!”

“Welcome to the family Sparkles.”

Vivian saw a complete change in Veneer in the next couple of weeks. He seemed happier. He took his dedication to caring for Sparkles seriously. Veneer researched the best foods to give him to live a good life, he saved up his allowance money to buy the fish a bigger tank, toys, rocks he could hide in. His parents would walk in on him talking to the goldfish…what was beautiful, was that the fish recognized him, his voice. When Veneer was around, the tiny fish would swim out of hiding and swim around next to him. If Velvet or anyone else entered the room, Sparkles would go back into hiding.

The year went by, Veneer bought him a smaller bowel to take the fish with them to small outings or have him around during his birthday and holidays. Veneer would try to talk about his pet goldfish at school, but no one seemed to care. Lame, they would tell him.

“No he’s not! He’s really cool. He does tricks!” Veneer exclaimed.

“Fish are stupid, they can’t do tricks!” The kids would tell him.

He wanted to show them, he wanted to show them that goldfish were not stupid, that they were amazing. One day, he had planned to take Sparkles to show and tell. “We’ll show them Sparkles. They tend to over look little things like us just because we’re different.” He leaned his face close to the tank. Sparkles swam near Veneer in circles, booping his little face near Veneers. “Get ready for a show tomorrow buddy!”

The next morning Veneer woke early to get Sparkles ready in his travel bowel. He tapped the glass gently, “Sparkles. Come one out. I want to give you food before we leave.”…..Nothing. “Sparkles.” Veneer maneuvered around the tank to see if he could find the fish, but he couldn’t see him. Normally Sparkles would come out at the sound of his voice and that tapping of the glass. He kept looking and looking…

“Sparkles! There you are!” Veneer saw a tiny fin peeping out of the little rock he had gotten him. “Sparkles.” Veneer called out again…but he saw the fish wasn’t moving…he was just floating there. “Sparkles?” Again, no movement. “Mom! Dad!”

His parents came barging in fear that their son was hurt or having an episode, Velvet trailing close behind. Veneer was in tears standing by the tank.

“Something is wrong with Sparkles.” He cried. Their father moved close, he saw the small fish turned on its side..he was still, very still. “Daddy what’s wrong? Do we have to take him to the doctors?”

“No son…I…He…” He looked at his wife unsure how or what to say. Veneer glanced his at his mother.

“Mommy?”

She sighed. Walking up to her son, she knelt down to get at eye level with him, “Sweetie, I think Sparkles may have gone to heaven.”

“What?” Veneer walked over to the tank. He tapped it and called out the goldfishes name again. “But…but he was fine last night! He ate and was next to me the entire time! How..What happened? Was he sick like me?” Veneer gasped and began to cry uncontrollably, “Mommy did I give Sparkles my sickness! Mommy, Daddy is he dead because of me!” Veneer hugged the little bowel close to his chest, his forever empty little bowel.

“Oh, no, no, no! No that is not what happened.” She hugged Veneer tightly. “Sweetie, all our time here is limited, including goldfish. We don’t know how old he really was. What matters is that you made whatever time he had with you happy. You gave him a life worth remembering. That’s what you have to do now, remember the good times you had with him.”

Velvet couldn’t help but wipe some tears away. It hurt her to see her brother so distraught, especially after a stupid goldfish, but that little fish made him happier than he has ever been….

That day he didn’t go to school. He stayed home crying over Sparkles. Veneer gained enough strength to go outside and pick out a stone. He pained a small goldfish on it and wrote the name “Sparkles”. His father called in from to stay with him. He helped burry the small goldfish, placing the rock on top of the small burial sight.

“Want to go to the store tomorrow and buy another?” His father asked. Veneer shook his head. Yes, there was other goldfish, but there would never be another goldfish like Sparkles. Loosing something so small, Veneer didn’t realize it would hurt so much. After that he didn’t want another pet. This was a pain he didn’t want to feel ever again.

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 & 𝐇𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨, 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐞

I’m back from holidays! I can finally get back to our regular routine of updating my ROTTMNT books! So, uh…enjoy this chapter yall!

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

Adriaen, the brothers and April were driving inside the turtle tank late at night around New York. Balloons and banners decorated the inside as the boys chant out to April about it being her birthday.

"I don’t know why you are even bothering. I told you guys my birthday’s are always a disaster. It’s cursed."

April lightly smiles fondly at the boys who smile back. Adriaen was watching the road, mostly because Raph was looking at April, so Adriaen didn’t want him to accidentally crash the tank. “Curse smursh. We’re gonna birthday so hard, you’re gonna need a permission slip." Leo grins, wrapping an arm around Adriaen and pulling him in, making the mutant roll his eyes playfully as he gave an assuring nod.

”For once, Leo’s right. I mean, how bad can your birthdays be?”

Suddenly, an air conditioner comes out of nowhere and hits the tank in the front, causing the tank to stop and the boys and April to brace themselves as they blink and look around in utter confusion. Leo had to grip onto Adriaen so they wouldn’t smash their faces against the control panels.

"What was that?"

Raph checked out through his window where we hear him let out a startled yelp of concern. Adriaen blinks and climbs slightly over Leo, who blushed at the closeness, but he of course didn’t mind it as Adriaen peeked out from behind Raph to see what made the tank come to a halt.

He widens his eyes when he saw an air conditioning unit impacted on the front of the tank. 

Oh, Donnie’s not going to like that.

He slides back inside and looks to Mikey. “Mikey, go help Raph out with, the uh….just go outside with him.”

Mikey tilts his head but being the nice turtle he is, nods and gets out the tank with Raphael. The two going to the front to inspect the damage.

Leo leans forward to rest on the dashboard as Adriaen sat in his respective chair, waiting patiently. Donnie of course was mostly concerned about his tank, whereas April hung back.

"Okay, give it to me straight. How bad is the damage?"

"Oh, It’s, uh, not that bad." Raph assures but Adriaen knew that wasn’t the case. "Oh, it’s real bad. Real, real, real, real, real bad." Mikey wasted no time on emphasising the actual truth, making Donatello twitch his eye.

“See. I told you my birthday was cursed." April huffs, feeling somewhat bad but Adriaen shook his head and walks over to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“No, no. It’s not you. Things like this kinda always happen to us, you know? Trust me, it’s not your fault whatsoever.”

Leo nods and pipes in his own comment, “Exactly! This is just a mini bump in the road. A hiccup. There’s no way this night gets worse." He assured but the moment he finished talking the sound of an explosion happens and next minute the tank once again jolts up. 

Adriaen yelps and lost his balance, collapsing onto Leo’s lap. The slider was reading a comic but threw it away when Adriaen landed on him. Leo gave a cheeky smile at his crush who was blushing in utter embarrassment before shaking his head and looking around in bewilderment.

Donnie, once again, was mostly concerned about his tank.

“What was that?"

They got no response making Adriaen suspicious, but he didn’t straight away go into concern mode. He instead, lifts himself off Leo and sat down in his seat, this time he decided to remain there to avoid any accidents.

Leo was none the less satisfied with the earlier results of Adriaen falling on him. 

Outside, Warren and Hypno were avoiding being caught by none other than Draxum who was persistently trying to snatch the gauntlet off Warren Stone. Raph and Mikey having to witness this fiasco.

Next to Draxum, standing in the now blown-up apartment above, was Ronin, donned in his usual disguise.

“Your gauntlet will be mine, worm man." Draxum threatens, only to move his head to the side when Warren fired an energy blast at him, using the gauntlets power.

"Breaking news, the gauntlet stays with me!"

He fires again at the two who effortlessly dodge the blast. Draxum jumped down, sliding past the lasers with his vines that he created. Ronin runs along the vines and takes out throwing knives from his pocket. 

He jumps up and throws a few at Warren who managed to barely dodge the attacks.

"Enough of this."

Draxum spun around and fired brick projectiles at Warren. The worm dodged jumping all over the roof of the Turtle Tank, at one point Warren was about to get hit until his partner, Hypno saved him.

“Alakaboom!"

A razor ring slices a large brick in half and flowers fall on Warren.

“Take that you horned headed freak." Warren laughs out, going to stand beside Hypno. Draxum and Ronin jump off the tank and notice Mikey and Raph who were watching with flabbergasted looks.

“Oh, my turtles! How very not nice to see you!" Draxum hissed, using his vine powers to attack them. Raph quickly grabbed Mikey, and they jumped out the way in time.

The vines scaling up the tank to attack Hypno and Warren instead. Ronin glances over to Mikey and Raph, using this distraction to sneak his way over to them.

“April’s birthday really is cursed." Raph muttered out loud, “We cannot let her see this." Mikey exclaims the obvious, but before they could get back to the safety of the tank, Ronin appears from behind. Arms behind his back and head tilted to the side. 

“What’s this about a birthday?”

Raph and Mikey let out a startled shout, jumping back in shock as Ronin calmly looked at them. His mask hiding his actual emotion, but no doubt he was grinning underneath.

”Ronin, what the heck is going on?!” Raph growls out lightly, gesturing to the mess that was Draxum and the other two villains. Ronin chuckled lightly, “Yeah, that right. Totally an accident that you guys got caught in the crossfire. But we’re trying to take that gauntlet off that worm guy.”

”Why?” Mikey asks innocently as Ronin hums, placing his hands on his hips in thought. “Sorry, can’t say. But don’t worry about it. But if I were you, I’d get back to your tank.” He says, jumping out the way when vines grew out the ground and almost grabbed the mutant turtles who quickly separated.

Raph and Mikey got inside the tank safely.

They drop down inside which was enough to send April to the ground. Leo, Donnie and Adriaen also look at the two in puzzlement.

"Real quick, uh, we just need to take care of this tiny, no-big-deal, non-life-threatening situation. Then it’s onto April birthday fun.” Raph strains out a smile, coming off awkward.

Donnie, Adriaen and Leo share glances at each other.

”Prepare to fire some cool weapons!" Raph suddenly shouts, making Donnie perk up excitedly as he hovers over the buttons to press.

"Which ones?"

“All of them…"

The sudden voice of someone else had the turtles stare at Warren who had a menacing look.

"Okay, who is that and how did he get in there?" Leo spoke up, as Adriaen raised an eyebrow at him. He looks familiar but he couldn’t quite pinpoint where exactly he might’ve seen this strange worm mutant.

April gets back up and recognizes the worm, gasping in shock. “Hold the phone. You’re Warren Stone! I’d recognize that hair anywhere!" She gleefully announced, as Warren Stone proudly beams at her.

“Why, yes I am. Are you a stonehead? That’s what I call my fans."

“Member since 2010!” 

April pulls out her wallet and shows a long list of herself over the years of her being a fan of Warren. “Excellent. Now by the power invested by me, by my own fan club, I’m deputizing you to get my hippo roomie back."

He points to where Hypno is fighting Ronin and Draxum outside. The villain Hypno slicing at the vines coming for him as Ronin perched atop a lamppost.

"Where's my roommate slash friend slash magical assistant?!" He hissed out at the group, Ronin blinked under his mask as he scoffs playfully, leaning against his palm.

”Well, we certainly don’t have him. But side note, look behind you; they got him.” He smirks, his tone teasing as he gestured over to the turtle tank.

Hypno turns around to see Warren and Donnie fighting over the controls inside the tank.

"Get off my console!" Donnie spat out as Hypno jumps over, landing on the hood of the tank. “I’ll save you, Warren!" He exclaims, cracking the window which knocks Donnie back. The purple masked mutant flailing his arms as he was caught by Adriaen, who held him up.

Warren placed his hand to the glass with endearment before he watched Hypno get captured by the vines that wrapped around the tank.

"No! Give him back!"

Warren starts slamming his gauntlet on the controls, accidentally activating nitro mode, the rockets that Donnie installed to make the tank go fast activate, causing the tank to break free and pass Hypno.

Warren and Hypno reach out for each other, calling out for their partner as their hands fail to reach each other as the tank takes off into the sky. 

Hypno shed a few tears as Draxum and Ronin approached him. The latter crouching down as he tilts his head, his mask hiding the fact the fact that he was grinning.

”So…you and the worm guy dating?”

The brothers, Adriaen and April reach a park, making sure no other humans were around, they quickly tie up Warren to a pole with Mikey’s whip.

"What does this thing do and why does Draxum want it?! Hm? Hm?" Mikey interrogated but Warren blinks as he starts patting the gauntlet.

"I don't know, but it's amazing! I call her Charlotte. She's like a toupée, but for your fist!"

Adriaen sighs as he placed his hands on his hips. “It’s obviously part of the dark armor. Which means we cannot allow Draxum to get his hands on it.” He states with determination as Donnie nods in agreement before whipping out his staff which turns on all kinds of sharp and dangerous weapons coming out from it.

“So now to do some light removing of a thing attached to another thing."

"Donnie!” Leo exclaims in shock at the bō staff, as Adriaen steps back to not get accidentally stabbed. “Is that a flamethrower?” He uttered out, using Raph as a shield.

"It’s fine. He regenerates, remember?”

The brothers and Adriaen all look at each other before Leo shakes his head in distress and confusion.

“Uh…no."

April gets between them, making Donnie halt on his terrifying actions. “Stop! This is a sign. Maybe this is finally the year my birthday is awesome." She calmly confesses, as Adriaen crosses his arms together, deadpanning.

"This is what you think makes a birthday awesome? You need to raise your standards.” He bluntly informs, Leo nodding beside him as the red eared slider leans against Adriaen.

“Preach that.”

April groans and stands her ground. “This is my birthday, and Warren Stone is the goat of news anchors. We've gotta help him get his friend slash roomie slash, it's complicated, back from Baron Draxum. It's my birthday wish!" She announced which immediately had the turtles yell in frustration.

"You’re invoking bday rights on him?" Leo lightly glares at Warren, “He might be a villain, but so is Baron Sheepman and that, uh, masked creepy guy with him. And the enemy of your enemy is—monster!” April began to give a little speech until she suddenly pointed out behind the turtles when a rogue monster was charging at them.

When they turn around to look at what April was screaming at, the brothers screamed, Adriaen was more so shocked as he instinctively got into a fighting position, but to his and the others confusion, the monster dissolved into a jumble of vines.

A paper stuck to the dissolved monster was seen.

"Is that a note from Draxum?" Leo mumbled out, raising an invisible brow. “What, he couldn’t send an email?" Donnie sarcastically sassed out, Adriaen steps forward, cringing a little when he stepped into the vines as he grabs the note and reads it out loud.

"Give us the gauntlet or your kiwi friend becomes a smoothie. Let’s not be tacky and avoid a violent exchang...ie. Love Huginn and Muninn."

He tilts his head at the strange message, noticing a little love heart drawn at the bottom that was signed by Ronin. Leo peeks over and scowls a bit at the heart, he grabs the note and rips it up.

"Guys, we gotta help him." April informs which immediately had Raph shaking his head. "Hard pass."

Before anyone else could say anything, Warren started whimpering as he gave the group his best puppy dog eyes.

"I know I’m a famous worm villain, but I need your help."

Adriaen stood beside Leo and Donnie. Listening to whatever Warren had to say to get him out of this mess.

"When News fame left, so did everyone I knew. I was alone. I had nothing. Until I met a magician hippo, and my life changed.” 

Adriaen resisted the urge to roll his eyes, crossing his arms together, “For my birthday, he baked me a tiny cake. And then, magically, jumped out of it! He almost crushed me when he slipped on frosting. He's my brother! He's my—"

He was cut off by Raph who was sobbing in sympathy. Mikey, April and Leo also showing their own sympathetic expressions with only Donnie and Adriaen looking bored and uninterested.

"Fine! All right? Just please, stop. We'll get your roomie back." Raph assured as Adriaen looks between everyone, “Are we positive that they are just roommates? And not, I don’t know, something else?” He questions, watching how they untie Warren as Leo rubs his eyes to get rid of any tears he had.

Leo turns to Adriaen with a light smile. “Who knows, but he was convincing.” He announced, wrapping his arm around Adriaen and leading him away when the group started to walk to discuss the plan on getting Hypno back.

At the docks, Draxum had wrapped Hypno in his vines, holding him hostage on top of a shipment crate. Ronin was leaning against the said crate on the ground, perking up slightly when he saw Warren approach them. 

“Tonight’s top story. I’m here to make your trade Draxum."

"Good. Now hand over the gauntlet."

Ronin steps forward slightly at the words of Draxum, letting Warren know silently to hand it to him. Hypno tried to call out to him, but his words were muffled from the tape on his mouth.

"I love you, too!” Warren calls over as Ronin confidently placed a hand on his hip. “Totally called it. They are so an item.”

Warren blushed at the comment before coughing and clearing his throat. “Anyway, we could do that, or I can make you a sweeter offer."

Huginn tilted his head to the side, the two gargoyles perched atop of Hypno's shoulders. "Like what?" He inquired as Munnin smiles excitedly.

"A lifetime supply of gum?"

"No. How about your mutant loser turtles? I brought them right here."

Warren grins devilishly as he gestured upwards, Draxum and Ronin looking up to see the turtles and April hanging from above in harnesses as they were going to drop down and surprise attack Draxum.

Adriaen twitched his eye at the worm in annoyance, "Did he seriously give us up?” He growls lightly, before yelping in shock when Warren blasts them with his gauntlet and the gang fall to the ground. 

Purple vines instantly trapped them in a cage to prevent them from escaping.

"Betrayal! I feel like we should have seen that coming." Leo gasps out before mumbling to himself as he watched Adriaen grip the purple vines and glare at the worm.

”Listen here you pest, when I get out of here, I’m going to personally rip your arm off!”

Leo chuckled sheepishly at his crush’s threat and guided him to sit down next to him.

“Easy, Adri.” Leo soothed in a comical manner, which only had Adriaen scoff and look away, but he seemed calm. ”How could you do this?! And on my birthday! I was the Vice president of the Stoneheads!" April shouts her own frustrations as Warren eyed her.

“And he thanks you for your service."

Draxum speaks up, amused. “You drive a hard bargain but...it’s a deal. Free him." He agrees to the offer, commanding the gargoyles to rip the tape off Hypno.

They do so and push him towards Warren. Ronin walks away, going to stand back at his original spot. He passed the turtles who look at him, Mikey giving puppy dog eyes for Ronin to free them. But Ronin ignored the group and leans against the shipping crate.

Warren reached up when Hypno crouched to his knees, letting the worm villain hug him. "Tonight's headline: Best friends, reunited and it feels s—"

“I’m so sorry. It was the only way to let you live.” Hypno cuts him off, making Warren let out a noise of puzzlement as Hypno frowns at him.

”Oh…Mezmeroo!”

Hypno sadly hypnotizes Warren who was swaying from the mind control. “Oh…give them the gauntlet, my golden-voiced amigo." He commanded, watching Warren who was hypnotised slowly slither his way to Ronin.

"Oh, man, a double betrayal. Did not see that coming." Leo voiced out in amusement, smirking lightly. Adriaen deadpans at him, “Are you seriously enjoying this right now?” He muttered, but didn’t give Leo a chance to reply as he watched the scene exchange in front of him.

Draxum jumps down from the crate, picking up Warren in a magical sphere. "You get the gauntlet, and the turtles and Warren lives. That was our deal, right?" Hypno summaries the deal he made with Draxum who chuckled lightly.

"Yeah no. I lied."

Ronin takes out a few tiny balls of pellets that contained Draxum’s vines as he throws them at Hypno, who yells as he was lifted up in the air from said vines.

"Triple Betrayal! Everybody is on fire tonight!" Leo laughs, before losing balance slightly and fell down into Adriaen's lap when the cage was also lifted into the air.

Adriaen gave a light scolding look to Leo. “Here I thought Donnie was the crazy one. But you are seriously changing my perspective tonight.” He hisses out lightly as Leo gave a cheeky and awkward smile.

”It’s uh….how I cope?” 

Adriaen huffs and annoyingly leans his face onto Leo’s shell, having enough of this whole fiasco with the villains. 

The slider flinched at the sudden action but was silently chanting out for victory in his head.

"But you said you promised!" Hypno exclaims in panic and betrayal at Draxum. “Only a true genius could choreograph this many betrayals and double crosses." Draxum replies, making Muninn and Huginn become bashful.

"I mean, it was a total team effort."

"I am blushing."

Ronin joined in on the fun, “Draxum is quite humble to share how it was a team decision.” 

Draxum growls and glares at the three, "I was talking about me, you idiots!” He shouted at them, Ronin playfully holding his hands up in the air. “Yeesh, I take it back.” He taunted, smirking under his mask when Draxum groans and turns his attention to Warren.

”Now time to do some light removing of one thing attached to another thing."

Hypno began to struggle to break free and moved his rings to cut the vines loose.

“Classic April O’Neil birthday. Trapped in a cage, betrayed by my idol, and facing certain doom." She sighs in sadness, making Raph give her a warm look of assurance.

"Look on the bright side. We’re trapped in a cage, having been betrayed by your idol facing certain doom...together.”

This earned everyone to stare at him in silent judgment. “Hey, I'm trying my best here." Raph defended himself from the silence judging looks of his brothers and friends.

Suddenly a puff of smoke appears in front of them. "Tada!” Hypno announces but he wasn’t in front of the cage, “Wait, almost there, a little higher to the right.” He talks to his doves who lift him by the clothes and have him hover in front of the vine cage.

“Hold on, and yep, you’re there. Allow me to help."

Donnie quickly pushed Raph out the way, his face expression that of caution and annoyed at the situation. "Okay, cowboy. I don’t know what kind of double-triple-betrayal you've got planned, but we’re not interested." He informs, Adriaen quipping in as well.

”Exactly. You can take your birds away before I give you the bird.” 

Leo once again, lightly pats Adriaen on his shell. "I’ve got nothing up my sleeve. I promise." Hypno assured but cards fly out of sleeve that hit Donatello in the face.

"Please, you must save Warren! I'm a—I'm a terrible roomie! I cheat on the chore chart, he pretends not to notice, but he does, I know he does..."

He began to beg, looking at the group with a pout. April turns to look down at the unconscious talking worm. 

"I just can't quit you, Warren Stone."

I totally can.

Adriaen thought, but didn’t say it out loud as Raph sighs and nods in agreement when Hypno. “To be clear, we’re doing this for April because it’s her birthday." He reasons as Hypno perks up happily and starts using his sharp rings to slice open the vine cage.

From below, Draxum makes a saw of his vines to cut Warren. Ronin watches as he glances up at the yokai. “Won’t this kill him?” He ponders in curiosity. “Hm? Oh, probably.” He shrugs calmly, no care in the world for Warren.

He was only inches away when Hypno threw a ring at the vines, breaking it into pieces. He looked up and saw Hypno and the others freed from the cage.

"Step away from my roomie." Hypno threatens, Ronin whistles in slight impressiveness, before he felt someone behind him. He turns around to see Leo sneaking up and grabbing Warren when no one was looking.

"I’ve got him! Let’s go!"

He starts running, only to be stopped and pulled back slightly when Ronin held onto the gauntlet from the other side, stretching the worm in two directions.

“Not so fast Bluey!”

Leo glared at his masked rival, "Little help here?" He calls out to the others who ran over to help pull Leo and Warren to them.

Ronin gazed to Draxum who made his way over and also helped on pulling Warren over to them.

“We can’t stretch him any further." Adriaen announces, his arms getting tired from pulling. But suddenly to everyone’s shock, April jumps in between and cuts the arm with a razor ring. The force of wind knocked all of them down.

Ronin tumbled back into Draxum but held the gauntlet as he and Draxum stand up. “Finally, another piece of the dark armor. Ew, gross..." Draxum appraised with accomplishment, opening a portal for him and his henchmen to go through.

He grabs the limp arm of Warren that was stuck inside the gauntlet and threw it to the side before stepping through the portal.

"New victory dance."

"With extra butt action!"

The gargoyles taunt, slapping their butts at the turtles before flying after Draxum. Ronin rubs his head slightly from the tumble earlier as he gazed at the group. Adriaen looks at him, but didn’t say anything as Ronin turns away and leaves, the portal closing.

Adriaen sighs, shaking his head as he looks over at Hypno who stands beside April. "How’d you know about our old trick?" He asks innocently, knowing that Warren was able to regenerate.

"What old trick?"

Warren suddenly wakes up, screaming in pain. He stared at his right arm that was missing until a new one grew in.

“I’m fine.” He assured before widening his eyes when he realises his gauntlet is gone. “Charlotte! My power! You’ve made a grave mistake. You are on my list." He glares up at April who just softly smiles at him, not taking his threats seriously.

"It was you or the gauntlet. And to some, well you’re kind of a big deal."

"I will haunt your dreams."

Hypno rubs his cheeks against Warren, "That's my Warren! Oh, it's good to have you back roomie, slash magical assistant, slash friend.” He hums happily and in relief before he kisses Warren's cheek.

”Doves!” He shouts which summons a group of white doves, which carry them off. “Let's go make fun of game show contestants on TV!"

Adriaen watched the two, one hand on his hip. “I think that confirms my suspicions.” He mumbled, Leo walking over and standing beside him. He glanced down at Adriaen’s hand that wasn’t on his hip, and decided to try and hold his hand.

But Leo didn’t get a chance to when Adriaen moved away to make his way back to the others. Leo frowns and glanced down at his own palm.

"April, so about your birthday…we’re really sorry we weren’t the ones to break the curse and uh—“ Raph spoke up, chuckling nervously before Donnie slides in with Warren’s stretched out arm that she chopped off.

"Happy birthday!"

April looks confused, but she accepted the gift none the less and jumps up.

"Best birthday ever!"

Adriaen chuckles lightly as he looks up at the night sky. “I don’t know about you guys…but I think we call it there for the night.” He suggested, which everyone mumbled and nods in agreement, all tired from this little adventure.

They brought April back home; she bids them goodnight as the turtle's wave bye and drive back home. Donnie parks the tank in an abandoned garage, where he pressed a button on the control keys he had, a platform under the tank appears and brings the turtle tank down into a tunnel that connected to the lair.

Once everyone was out the tank, they all say their goodnights and head to their respective rooms to sleep. Leo walks with Adriaen before he stops the black masked mutant.

”Quick little question…”

”Hm? Okay?”

Leo inhales as he taps his fingers together. “Let’s say…hypothetically, someone, a guy, has a crush on you romantically. Would you accept?” He asks, which surprised Adriaen as he crosses his arms at him.

”Is this because of Warren and Hypno? Cause I totally believe that they are dating.”

Leo shyly nods, it was only half true that the reason he was asking was because of how Warren and Hypno acted. 

“Then…I guess I would? I haven’t thought about it, but it sounds nice I guess?”

Leo perks up, eyes open wide as Adriaen shrugs his shoulders. “But I doubt that’ll happen.” He added before patting Leo on the shoulder briefly.

”Night Leo.”

He walks out the garage as Leo stands where he is. Watching Adriaen leave him behind as Leo looks away and jumped in the air slightly, raising his fist up.

”Yes! I have a chance!”

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

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. 

I apologise if this seemed rushed or anything of the sorts. I’m still kinda recovering from a long holiday and I also got injured a couple days ago on both my arms where they have massive bruises, and they still hurt so…yeah 😅

First Chapter here

Previous Chapter here

[mariacallous]

It was a good year to be bad. And not just bad, positively villainous.

In November, when Kendrick Lamar surprise-released GNX—his sixth album and, it must be said, a perfectly ferocious climax in his year-long feud with Drake—it dawned on me that maybe being a hater was just plain fun (and also a smart business strategy).

I wasn’t alone in my assessment. By the first week of December, Lamar secured eight of the top 10 Billboard Hot 100 songs. “Kendrick really an Arkham Asylum patient that can rap his ass OFF,” @nellychillinn posted on X. However inspired Lamar’s malice was—and, boy oh boy, was it—he was only one of several villains, both real and fictional, who dictated the terms of the year. It was a year of blockbuster, comic book mythos—only, in our version, the bad guys won.

A new cultural mood took hold in 2024, the steady climate of a disordered age. In a year that rocketed Moo Deng, the influencer baby hippo, and Brat summer into the zeitgeist, many of its tentpole moments shared a common thread: they gave villainy the main stage, made it cool to be bad.

In The Penguin, the Max supervillain drama, Colin Farrell plays Oz, a low-level criminal with kingpin dreams. It’s among the year’s best shows, much of it owed to twin performances by Farrell and Cristin Milioti, chilling in their symmetry. What captivated me about the series was its unwillingness to sugarcoat the immorality of man. By season’s end and without spoiling it, Oz makes a fatal choice. Real friendship has no place in his world of blood and vice, he reasons. Yet viewers admire Oz’s aptitude to survive, his unmerciful resolve. We tell ourselves that he is one of us. On Industry, the anxiety-riddled Gen Z banking drama, stock trader Harper Stern lies to advance her career and you secretly hate that you love it. (Myha’la is as ruthless as she is cunning in the role.)

Of course, not all villainy was created equal this year. Arms dealer Macrinus—played with cool guile by Denzel Washington in Gladiator II, regrettably nowhere near as poetically compelling as the original—is drunk on self-greed as he plots to overthrow Rome, and still we wonder, Maybe he’s got a point. The popularity of films like Joker: Folie à Deux, Challengers, Megalopolis, and The Substance also reaffirmed a shared desire to live outside the rules of play.

What was it that drew us to those characters? They were blinded by purpose. Consumed by ego. Some were more morally bankrupt than others. Still, they were human in the most human way there is, driven by conviction and beset by contradiction. They were gloriously flawed. And maybe you—like me—wanted a little bit of what they possessed, what they wielded with such originality: total and complete belief in yourself, no matter the outcome.

Irrational self-belief is one of the reasons villains deeply resonate across culture, says Kevin Wynter, a professor of media studies at Pomona College. “In a repressive society such as ours that champions conformity to better cultivate consumers, characters who actively reject the trappings of capitalist fantasia or who operate by the codes of a self-fashioned morality in opposition to the dominant society will inevitably be appealing in ways we may not all wish to openly admit,” he says.

Today, traditional notions of villainy have been replaced by complex, sometimes paradoxical, standards of what different groups find acceptable or threatening. Wynter believes this has led to a “post-villain world.” Tech moguls (Elon Musk), politicians (New York City Mayor Eric Adams), podcasters (Joe Rogan)—for many people, they are the primary transgressors of our time (and heroes, to others). They are anti-establishment. They want to subvert “the system.”

“There are few, if any, villains who so deftly combine clownery, wealth, and power like Donald Trump,” Wynter adds. “Even his newest parasitic attachment, Elon Musk—who, again, for some is a figure of perfect villainy is for others a swashbuckling futurist cowboy.”

That’s the thing about the future, you never know exactly how it’s going to unravel, or who it’s going to favor. For some, artificial intelligence was the cardinal antagonist of 2024. Across Hollywood and the gaming industry, AI revealed itself as more than an existential threat, as many workers fretted over the loss of jobs.

Others, feeling lost as social media undergoes a sharp transition, have rightly pointed the finger at digital gentrifiers. “I’m mad that everything about the internet that was fun & useful 10 years ago is broken now. this site, obviously,” Tracy Chou, an app developer, posted on X. “Reviews are astroturf lies. search is ai hallucination. no place to share with friends & family without influencer / meme / polarized content overrunning the feed.”

In times as unprecedented as ours, all angst and agitation, a reorientation toward the truly transgressive reads less shocking when you consider it part of a larger societal reframing. Villainy has long permeated the cultural imagination—American lore, after all, was built on the sensibilities of mavericks, vigilantes, and underdogs—but in 2024 it went full-on main character.

Why? It could be that villainy, more than heroism, offers a different texture of purpose, one closer to reality, one that sees our world for what it is right now—profoundly fucked—and responds accordingly.

What I can say for certain is that villainy has no particular allegiance. Eventually it consumes everyone. In December, it was announced that Warner Bros. Discovery had canned Sesame Street, the long-running children’s program. Understandably, the decision did not go over well. On Bluesky, the social media app of the moment, @valhallabackgirl shot back with a fury many people had also experienced this year. “I guess this is my villain origin story,” she wrote.

[aagiijxbls]

Fever

Finished art and chapter one.

Feel free to not read the below and just enjoy the comic panels.

No smut in this chapter. Will come later if I can be bothered to finish it.

-

Bucky was blindsided by one of them hiding behind the door he had kicked in. He didn't catch the movement quick enough and a sharp stinging exploded in his neck. 

He twisted and put his hand over his neck as the guy stumbled backwards with an empty syringe in his hand. 

Bucky gave him a right hook that had his head smacking into the wall, the man slumped to the ground unconscious. 

-

Bucky got back to his room and Steve was sitting on the couch reading a book. He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked it towards the bedroom before crawling onto the couch. He was exhausted. 

He let himself fall so that his head was on Steve's lap. Steve closed the book and put it on the armrest, he looked down at Bucky 

"Are you okay?" 

Bucky nodded against Steve's thigh, his whole body relaxing against the larger man under his head. 

"Just tired" 

Steve put one hand through Bucky's hair and the other draped across his shoulder.

"Need anything?" 

Bucky relaxed into Steve's touch and breathed in deeply before exhaling his reply  

"Just you" 

A small smile appeared on Steve's face and he ran his fingers over Bucky's scalp 

"I'm not going anywhere" 

Steve brushed the hair back from Bucky's forehead and as his hand touched the skin he frowned. 

He placed his hand flat against Bucky's forehead and the frown deepened.

"Buck, you have a fever…" 

Bucky laughed with a puff of air leaving his nose 

"Yeah, okay" 

Steve shifted a little, his hand still on Bucky's forehead, he moved his other hand and placed two fingers against his pulse.

"No really Buck, you have a fever. Your pulse is elevated" 

That Bucky knew, he could feel it thrumming in his veins but chalked it up to whatever sedative they'd injected him with. 

Steve's fingers left Bucky's neck for a moment before they touched his collar and shifted it out of the way. Steve saw the pinprick mark on his neck, his eyebrows knitting together in concern 

"Did you get injected with something?" 

Bucky waved his hand in a dismissive gesture 

"Sedative, probably why I'm so tired." 

"No, you're tired because you're sick" 

Bucky huffed a sigh, he was too tired to argue. He turned his head and pressed it into the crook of Steve's hip. Steve's hand immediately went to the back of Bucky's head, his fingers scratching lightly against his skull. 

The world washed away in that moment, with his head pressed into Steve all light in the room was blocked out and he was swimming in contended darkness. 

"Buck" 

Steve spoke softly, his voice lowered to a patient and caring timbre. His fingers trailing lightly up and down Bucky's spine while the other carded through his hair. 

"We need to know what they injected you with. Will you let me take you to medical?" 

Bucky's left arm moved from its position at his side and grabbed the bottom of Steve's shirt, holding it lightly in his fist but pulling down just enough that Steve knew he wasn't about to move anywhere. 

"Okay, well we do need to draw some blood. Will you let me call someone up here?" 

Bucky took a deep breath and gave a lazy nod. He knew Steve wouldn't drop this until he knew that whatever was running through his veins wasn't life threatening. It was easier to get it over with, but he wasn't willing to move in order to do so. 

He thought fleetingly about how childish he was acting, but when Steve spoke the fingers dancing against his spine increased in pressure just a little and Bucky's mind blanked out and he let himself fall into the touches. 

"Jarvis, can you send someone to draw bloods please?" 

"Of course, Captain" 

-

A light knock came at the door and Bucky came crashing back down into himself. He was suddenly hyper aware of how close he was to Steve. How exposed he felt being seen like this. He was the protector, always had been and he had let himself burden Steve with a cold. 

Steve saw Bucky's body stiffen, he could feel the muscles in his jaw clench against his thigh and the fabric of his shirt tightened inside Bucky's fist. 

"Hey, it's okay" 

Steve pressed a firm hand between his shoulder blades, his thumb moving up and down in a soothing motion 

"They will be gone in a few minutes. Do you want me to move?" 

Bucky's left hand closed impossibly tighter, pulling the fabric of Steve's shirt closer to his face. 

No, he didn't want Steve to move. He took a silent breath and reminded himself that this was okay. Allowing himself to accept comfort was okay. 

"Don't leave" 

His voice was small, barely audible but Steve heard it and the hand on his back pressed firmly down. 

"Jarvis, open the door please" 

The latch clicked and Bucky pressed his head further into Steve in an attempt to hide himself.

The man who entered the room was average in every way possible. Brown hair, brown eyes, average height and weight. Steve recognised his face from around the complex but had never interacted with him. 

The man approached them and put his kit down on the coffee table, he knelt in front of the couch and unlatched the case. He pulled on gloves and withdrew a syringe. 

"Sergeant Barnes, can you please rotate your arm for me?" 

Bucky turned his arm outward and the man tied a tourniquet around his bicep, once it was in place Bucky clenched his fist a few times.

The man inserted the syringe, removed the tourniquet and took four vials of blood, he placed them carefully into his case.

He picked up a cotton ball with a piece of tape but stopped and stared at them for a moment, his eyes flicking to Bucky's arm. The blood had almost immediately stopped flowing when he pulled the syringe out, the super soldier probably didn't need a band-aid. His eyes moved to the Captain and he gave a soft smile and a small shake of his head. 

"Thank you, I'll take these to the lab." 

He left swiftly with a courteous nod. 

Bucky pulled his right arm under him, his body turning so he was laying on his side but still pressed tightly against the angle of Steve's hip. 

"Do you want to lay here for a bit or should we move to the bed?" 

Bucky took a moment to respond. 

He was so tired that he didn't want to move but he also wanted a blanket over him. 

"Bed" 

He rolled onto his back, eyes still closed and Steve leant down placing a kiss against his forehead. 

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?" 

Bucky opened his eyes to see the playful smile dancing across Steve's lips.

"Shut up" 

Bucky lifted himself up to a sitting position but when he got upright his head swirled and dizziness darkened his peripheral vision. 

He swayed a little and Steve pressed up against him, a hand planted firmly on his back and the other at his waist. 

Bucky settled into the touch as his vision cleared 

"I'm okay" 

He turned himself and started to stand, Steve was moving with him, touching but not assisting and Bucky was grateful for that. 

Standing up straight Bucky moved past Steve toward the bedroom. Steve was in step right behind him, his hands firm on his shoulders massaging lightly and it took all of Bucky's strength not to fall back into him. He wanted to feel Steve against his back, wanted him to wrap his arms around his chest and pull him close. 

A small shuddered breath passed Bucky's lips and Steve's hands tightened on his shoulders. They passed through the doorway to the bedroom and Bucky was about to let himself collapse onto the mattress but Steve stopped walking and his hands kept Bucky standing in place. 

Steve stepped into Bucky's space and pressed himself into his back, his arms snaking down and circling his waist, tugging him gently back into him fully. Bucky hummed a happy sigh as Steve rested his chin on his shoulder, his face slightly turned inward so Bucky could feel his warm breath against his throat as he spoke. 

"I'm going to get this gear off of you and then you can sleep, Okay?"

Bucky could only nod, his head lolled back against Steve's shoulder and his eyes drifted closed. With Steve at his back he felt he could fall asleep right there. 

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky's throat and then his arms moved away from his waist. His fingers working deftly over the buckles on his tac vest. He stepped back to remove it but Bucky didn't even have enough time to complain before Steve was pressed back up against him again. 

Steve's hands settled on Bucky's hips, the thumb of his right hand slipped under his shirt and gave a soft stroke against his skin before they moved to his belt. 

Bucky let more of his weight fall back against Steve's solid frame as he pulled the buckle free, his fingers popping open the button on his pants and pulling the zipper down. 

Steve flattened his hands against Bucky's sides and slid his fingers under the waistband of his pants and slid them down his hips, once they got over his thighs they fell just above his knees. 

"Sit down on the bed" 

Bucky lifted his head from Steve's shoulder, he took a step forward and turned in Steve's arms plonking himself gracelessly down onto the mattress. 

He wanted so badly to fall onto his back but Steve bent into his space, his hands went to either side of his neck he placed a couple of light kisses across his face before he knelt on one knee to undo the laces on his boots. 

Bucky felt a warmth spread across his cheeks as they flushed pink. He felt self conscious and exposed, the tenderness of Steve's touch caused a twinge of guilt to radiate from his core. He had to remind himself that if Steve didn't want to do this he wouldn't be, stubborn as he was. 

But Bucky couldn't help the way his nerves twitched and burned, telling him that he didn't deserve this. 

Steve pulled his boots off and placed them under the bed, he lifted his head and Bucky felt his cheeks flush darker. The smile that graced Steve's face was gentle and loving, his eyes soft as he captured Bucky's gaze. 

Steve caught the slight panic in Bucky's expression, he dropped the eye contact before Bucky could and pulled his pants off completely. 

He stood and turned to the dresser leaving Bucky sitting on the bed in black briefs and a t-shirt. 

"Do you want sweats and a hoodie?" 

Bucky pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor 

"Just a hoodie" 

There was brief pause before he added quietly

"The blue one" 

Steve smiled to himself, the blue hoodie in question was his own, one that he'd had for many years. It'd been stretched out and had a couple holes forming from continuous use, but the comfort it brought wouldn't allow him to throw it out. 

Steve pulled it from the draw and refrained from tugging it over Bucky's head, he figured dressing him would be pushing it a little too far. He could feel Bucky's anxiety and the last thing he wanted was for him to withdraw back into himself. 

He handed Bucky the faded blue fabric and watched as he pulled it over his head, the hood sat lopsided covering a quarter of his face. As he poked his arms through the sleeves Steve couldn't stop the affectionate smile from creeping onto his face. 

That hoodie was large on him but on Bucky it was atleast two sizes too big. 

And it was ridiculous to think about how small and fragile it made Bucky look, considering this man was quite possibly to deadliest human on Earth. 

The fabric absolutely swam on him and it reminded Steve of when all of their clothes never quite fit right. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around himself and yawned, his eyes closing as he sucked in a deep breath. 

Steve took a few steps forward so he was standing in front of him, he reached his hand out and placed it against Bucky's cheek. 

Bucky opened his eyes slowly and met Steve's soft gaze 

"Time to sleep" 

Bucky lent into Steve's touch as his eyes slipped shut again

"Are you staying?" 

His voice was quiet as exhaustion seeped through him and Steve felt a surge of love for him spread throughout his body, he wanted to smother Bucky in his arms and kiss every place he could reach. 

"Of course" 

Bucky hummed a quiet sound of thanks and turned away from Steve to crawl under the covers. He felt the mattress dip behind him as Steve settled at his back, one arm folding around his waist and the other stretched out under his neck. Steve pulled him close and Bucky curled into the embrace, his hands fisted in the long sleeves of Steve's hoodie.

[moriarty-i-s-back]

One of my patients gave me an original transformers comic book from the 80's and I'm SCREAMING

[donnerpartyofone]

I destroyed the house. I've been slowly neatening and cleaning and making things liveable bit by bit for weeks and it's all gone. People joke about the whole Sisyphus thing and they usually mean the rat race of work and bills and not getting ahead, but when I say every day is the same I really mean it. The drawers I "fixed" have stopped closing again because I had to look for something and my "organizing" couldn't withstand that, so now we're back to square one. The clothing I sorted and washed and put away is once again in a 3' deep ocean all over the bedroom, because I had to look for something. The art and comics and little gifts people gave me that I "put away safely" is all wrecked because I had to look for something. The little bags and boxes I made to consolidate different types of things are all over the place again, because I had to look for something. The jewelry I finally organized (after I destroyed more than half of it by trying to clean it) is a mess again because I had to look for something. And I didn't even find the main thing I was looking for, which had a very definite place-it-belongs and is more than a foot long on each side and would be awfully conspicuous in an apartment this size, and whose ENTIRE PURPOSE WAS HELPING ME STAY ORGANIZED, is just gone. I really don't get what could have happened, I must have just slipped into a fugue state and thrown it in the trash. I don't even think I spent my own money on it, I think my husband bought it for me which makes my chronic and destructive wastefulness even more shameful than usual. I was supposed to walk a block and a half to the pharmacy hours ago to find out if they had my backordered medication, so that I could know if I then had to spend the rest of the day calling other pharmacies for the same reason. There's no way I can do that very important thing now, even though the medication is directly related to why I just totally ruined the house and undid months' worth of careful, patient organizing so I could try to live something like a decent, normal life. I should have applied for jobs today. I should have worked on my project that could actually turn into a job if I really try hard. I should have done normal cleaning like laundry and dishes and showering. I should have run a few errands and gotten some fresh air. I should have read one of the many books I'm half way through. Just one of any of these things would have justified getting out of bed today. I should have done anything at all to just inch my life forward a little bit, to just try to be a little bit better than I was yesterday. But instead I'm just still living an endless repetitive day that started sometime when I was in my 30s, or my 20s, or when a was a child, a day I will never get to the end of because I can't complete anything. I can never get to the next step of anything. No wonder my family talks to me like I'm still the same laughably stunted and incompetent 12 year old they had to carry through life decades ago, it makes me mad that they won't treat me like an adult with real thoughts and feelings but actually I totally deserve it because from the day I was born nothing has changed. I'm still just lying around pissing my pants and wondering how I got all wet.