#but the chore they actually start talking over is laundry. let me elaborate

[isaacathom]

it is impossible for me to explain shit about my stories because these are things i ramble to myself several days in a row rehashing the same topics, but man. jalen and zayvia gay.

[lucvly]

— boyfriend headcannons with chris. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: tooth rotting fluff and a nsfw part?? not proofread stop its almost 1 am

a/n: i’m trying my best to feed you guys but school is Fucking me upppp :/ sry this is a little short Oopsie

— tries to act tougher in public but when both of you are alone he’s a total sweetheart.

— he loves it when you play with his hair, when you let him lay his head on your chest and won’t ever admit it out loud but loves when you’re the big spoon.

— gets so distracted when you’re around it’s hilarious (+ matt and nick always tease him for it because he looks “ridiculous”) literally has the biggest heart eyes for you, always following you around and drooling over you.

— pda pda pda !! this man loves pda, i’m not elaborating.

— shows you off anywhere and everywhere. literally anyone who’s ever spoken to him knows you because he’s always talking about you.

— his instagram feed are mostly pictures with you in them. he loves posting you.

— adores touching you. not even sexually, but always has an arm around you, hugs you from behind, an arm around your waist, a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, etc.

— don’t ever ask him about it but if you’re a romcom fan he’ll definitely watch them with you. sure, he’ll act like he hates them but actually loves watching them with you. his guilty pleasure fr!

— adores doing domestic stuff with you: grocery shopping, cooking, baking– man, he’d even do laundry with you. which just pisses matt off because the only time chris helps with chores is when you’re around.

— if you mention a certain song or a certain artist he’ll slowly start adding them into his playlist. don’t ask him about it because he’ll actually get Embarrassed but still. ++ he has a playlist of songs that remind him of you.

— spoils you good. you want a new perfume? just say the word. that book you talked about last week? he already bought it for you. new necklace? of course. and it has his initials on it so it’s a win win.

— asks you for fashion advice LMFAOO. you’ll get spammed at like 7 am with something like “black or white?????”

— still flirts with you like you’re in the talking stage it’s sooo funny. tells you the lamest pickup lines but it’s cute because it’s Him !!

— nsfw below!

— a munch. loooves eating you out. he does it for his own pleasure trust. + he gets pussydrunk soo quickly.

— teases you soo much help?? especially in public. you could literally be at an important meeting and he’ll still have his hand on your thigh while whispering dirty ass things in your ear.

— loves it when you drag him lingerie shopping. he’s just there to support you and drool over you tbh. he can’t help but get hard when he sees you in all those pretty sets. (+ always ends up with you fucking in the dressing room).

— this man suffers when he’s on tour. he’s so used to having you take care of him he almost forgot how to jerk off LMFAOOO??

— has a whole album on his phone for his eyes only which include videos he’s taken of you getting fucked senseless, videos of you crying out his name, pictures you’ve sent him and videos.

— loves phone sex HELLOOO?? just hearing your voice gets him rock hard. sometimes you’ll be talking about the stupidest thing ever while on call with him and all you’ll ever hear from the other line are soft grunts, panting and heavy breathing. (+ when you tease him about it he just tells you to keep talking– yeah, you both end up moaning into the phone LMFAOO)

— literally anything gets him turned on. something as simple as you giggling or wearing one of his fresh love hoodies and boom– he’s bricked.

— pet names are a huge yes. this man could be choking you and balls deep in you but he’ll still call you the sweetest pet names ever. (“angel”, “princess”, “baby”, “doll”.)

— teasing gets him so worked up. don’t even try to pull on his hair a little, slightly touch his crotch when he’s hard or bend over in front of him unless you wanna end up pinned against a wall and going for at least three rounds.

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House Part 3.2

Previous installments here - the Reader is living with Ivar and Ubbe for free, in exchange for doing all the chores. She’s a kinky little girl who’s sincerely hoping one of them will take advantage of the scenario in more interesting ways…

Refresh yourself on Part 3.1 here

“You’re killing me in that maid outfit, Y/N,” Ubbe complains, voice rumbling thick from the darkness. Once his phone screen turns off, he’s even more shrouded in shadow over there on the couch. “Why don’t you save Ivar’s chores for later. I’ve got something over here you can polish.” You see his teeth flash in the moonlight from the window as he smiles at his own bad joke, but you’re pretty sure he’s not joking. Not if you don’t want him to be. You stare at each other across the ten feet or so that divides you. There’s something in these long looks Ubbe gives; a patient intensity he seems accustomed to holding back. Tonight, it looks much closer to breaking. Ivar is all cool, confident dominance; Ubbe seems like the type to just snap and go crazy on a girl if she teases him too long.

It really makes you want to tease him.

Your fingers play with the lacy bottom of the skirt, pulling it up to expose a little more thigh. You bite your lip and look at Ubbe from under your lashes. “I don’t think Ivar was done with me yet.”

Ubbe waves his hand, as if swatting at a fly. “Come here.” He shifts in his seat and, with a definite swipe of his hand, adjusts himself in his shorts. It’s so crass; but you’re already in sub mode now, the giddy trance of arousal that Ivar started now making you feel compliant and eager to please. For anyone, apparently. You take a few steps toward Ubbe, imagining the way his cock is evidently swelling just at the sight of you.

That thought – more than a thought, a memory really, of what you saw of Ubbe in the bathroom the other day – releases a throbbing between your legs that makes it hard to move. Which is fine, since you can barely decide where you want to go. Your hips want to comply with Ubbe’s request, just about as badly as they want to march you back into Ivar’s waiting hands. “He and I were… kind of in the middle of something. I think.”

Ubbe leans toward you. “But what if I want to get you in the middle of something too.”

This, you did not expect. Ubbe had been so careful, always holding Ivar back, always skirting away from anything that could initiate any sexual pressure…

When you don’t say anything, Ubbe keeps talking. “I’m not reading this wrong, am I? You and Ivar aren’t hooking up yet?” His eyes drop down your body. “But you actually want to play this game. The one we’ve been joking about since the beginning.”

It’s hard to be eloquent when your heart is in your throat. You nod quickly. Then you glance down the hallway, wondering if Ivar thinks you should have come back by now.

Ubbe sees the direction of your gaze. He rumbles your name, low and intimate, to get your attention back. His pale eyes flash as he explains himself clearly. “Now that I know you want to take this arrangement to the next level, I’m not sitting back and letting Ivar be the only one that makes a play.” His sudden grin is confident, charming, like an alpha lion. “And don’t you think the oldest should come first?” He leans back, settling into the couch with an inviting space left open under his arm. “I’ve been paying attention too, Y/N. I know you’re into me. And that you like to be told what to do.” His pale eyes gleam. “You like it a lot. So… come sit next to me.”

This is torture. Your foot moves one step closer, but your chest is tight with the worry that you’ll ruin whatever was getting started with Ivar if you hesitate much longer.

Ubbe’s eyes flit over to the basket of laundry you’ve left by the door. “Or I could carry that basket down to the laundry room for you, if Ivar really needs his clothes done right this minute. I’m sure we could think of something to do while the machine spins.”

A pornographic image consumes your brain, one involving Ubbe bending you over the vibrating appliance and fucking you until the timer goes off. Fuck, tonight is turning into much more than you had bargained for. In your daydreams, the boys were much better about the idea of taking turns.

The sound of crutches against the floor interrupts your writhing thoughts. Ivar’s coming up the hallway, and he’s about to catch you dallying with Ubbe. A chill runs down your spine and you wonder if you’re in trouble.

He hauls himself into the room, following your eyes to turn toward Ubbe on the couch. “Brother,” he greets, falsely warm. “You are still up.”

Ubbe’s chest puffs as he spreads his arms over the back of the couch. “The night is young.” He takes a swig from his bottle and stares at you. “Hard to want to be anywhere else when Y/N is walking around looking like that.”

Ivar steps closer to you. “Yes, the uniform is quite striking, isn’t it.” The possessiveness in his tone makes it clear he’s taking credit.

It’s hard not to shiver visibly at the way Ivar makes you feel when he stands this close, looking down the line of your body at such an abrupt angle that a few locks of hair fall across his cheek. Ubbe may be hot, but Ivar makes your heart stop. The face of a fallen angel. No mere mortal could resist.

He leans on one crutch, lifting his hand toward your chest, just where he’s gazing. You’re perfectly still, silently begging him to touch you again. “It fits her so perfectly. Highlights all of her assets, wouldn’t you agree Ubbe?”

You hear an appreciative grunt from the couch as you watch Ivar’s hovering hand, descending toward your breast.

You think he means to stroke your skin, but his fingers land on the ribbon threaded through the lace that decorates the plunging neckline instead. “I love all the little details.” He tugs at the bow tied in the center of your chest. “It wasn’t cheap, but it was well worth it.”

“A great choice,” Ubbe says around the mouth of his beer bottle. “A kinky dress for a kinky girl.”

Ivar whips his head around to Ubbe, annoyed. You feel your cheeks flush warm to be called out so plainly.

Ubbe doesn’t wait for Ivar to say anything. “You like both of us looking at you, don’t you, kinky girl.” He leans forward, lip curling in dark anticipation. “I bet you want us both to start peeling that thing off you right now.”

Fuck. To not have to choose. That would be heaven.

Ivar’s got other ideas. He sneers at Ubbe. “I doubt our Y/N’s desires are so simple.” He turns those storm cloud eyes back to you. “Anyone can fuck.” The last word is all but a snarl; you can feel the contempt dripping from him at the very idea of vanilla sex. “You’re here for something else.”

He doesn’t elaborate. But the look that passes between you says everything. Ivar’s right; you don’t want an easy lay, a night that blazes hot and fast and means nothing in the morning. You want—

He leans in closer, murmurs the rest of his thought for your ears only. “You want to be taken to your limit. You want to drown.”

A whimper slips out of the thickness in your throat. Ivar’s hand slides around your waist and you feel steadied even as it makes you tremble.

“Walk slowly back to my room,” he instructs, in that same quiet voice. “Do not look at Ubbe. Do not talk to him. When you get to my door, twirl once for me. Show off that short little skirt. Then kneel in the center of my room, and wait for your next instruction.”

You suppress a shiver, another thrill running hot and tight up your core at his words. “Yes, Ivar.”

He pushes a little at your lower back. “Go.”

You focus all your attention on your steps: deliberate, precise clicks of your high heels against the floor. You let your hips sway softly, striving to show both your enjoyment and your obedience, to be sexy while also conveying how seriously you’re taking this. You don’t hear Ivar following you, but you know he’s watching.

Your name bursts out of Ubbe’s throat, an insistent, tantalizing growl. It takes effort to keep your eyes fixed in front of you.

“You may have a turn later,” Ivar decrees, “if you must. If she even wants to.”

Nothing in Ivar’s instructions allows you to respond. It pleases you to know that there is still room to have both; but you are Ivar’s creature right now. So you give Ubbe no reassurance, no sign that you still think you will want to, as you step evenly past the couch and disappear out of his line of sight.

Still, the base of your spine tingles as you hear him leave you with one final, eager growl.

You almost forget the next bit of the instructions. With one foot in through Ivar’s doorway, you catch his dark look from where he’s watching you, and realize there was one more thing you were supposed to do. Leaning your weight back on the foot that’s still in the hallway, your cheeks flush just a little as you go into a twirl, fast enough to make the bottom of the skirt lift. The playful movement frees you a little from the weight of your nervousness, and you flash Ivar a girlish smile before you continue on into his room.

It’s still dark, lit only by his computer screen. The display is showing his music player. The playlist is called “Tied Up In My Closet” and you force yourself not to get distracted by looking at what’s on it. Ivar’s instructions were clear. You take your place in the empty center of the room.

He hadn’t told you which direction to face. You decide to look at his bed, putting your back to the door. You feel like there’s too great a chance you’ll be making an awkward or a stupid face when he walks in, and so you bend forward as you kneel and try to make the most of your curves, creating a sexy silhouette to be viewed from behind.

Your skin prickles when you hear Ivar come in. “Good girl,” he croons at the sight of your compliance. He swings himself close, then settles against one crutch by your side. You don’t move, waiting to be told what he wants next. But when his hand combs through your hair, you can’t help but lift your chin, yearning for more of his touch.

When his fingers stroke across your cheek you can’t help but look up at him. His ocean-blue eyes are positively roiling with dark thoughts. But he doesn’t act on any of them, just examines your face with his gaze and his fingertips.

He draws his thumb across your mouth; you part your lips, eager to spur him on to more. He pulls your bottom lip down, slightly; you consider sucking his thumb but that might be too forward. As crazy as he’s making you feel, you want him to set the pace.

“So tell me, Y/N, what is it that you like?” He pushes your lip back up and releases your face so that he can go sit down on the edge of his bed.

“Um…” you’re not sure what to say, how to start. He beckons you to crawl forward, until you’re kneeling at his feet and he can keep playing with your face and hair as you talk.

“I know that you like following orders,” Ivar begins for you, sliding his hand under your jaw. “And being looked at. Being watched?”

You nod.

He threads his fingers through your hair, just behind your ear. “And how are you with being restrained?”

That one’s easy. “Love it.”

A smile tugs at the side of his full lips, but he seems intent on remaining serious. His fingers tighten their grip against your scalp. “Pain?”

You whimper, and he tugs a little more until you answer. “Yes, some.” He relents his pressure, and turns your face more squarely toward his own. He inclines his head for you to clarify. “I-I’m not sure how much. But I want to try.” Your heart skips a beat as you look up into his eyes, then add two more words. “For you.”

A genuine smile spreads across his cheeks; he’s touched at that little addition. You know at that moment that your greatest goal is to make him look at you like that many times again.

He leans down, and you think he’s going in for a kiss, but he stops himself before he gets that close.

“That is a good start. You know about safewords?”

You nod.

“I think the stoplight system is the easiest to remember, when things are getting intense. ‘Yellow’ if you need a break, if you need me to change something small. Say ‘red light’ if I need to stop completely, and let you out.”

You shiver at the faint imagining of what Ivar might need to ‘let you out’ of.

“Repeat that back to me.”

“Yellow light for a break, red light if I want you to stop.”

“Very good,” Ivar says, leaning back on the bed. “Now you are ready for training.”

You’re still a little disappointed he didn’t kiss you, but excited to see where this is going next. You’ll take this odd tension, the uncertainty and desire that feel hot and cold both at once, over a standard make-out session any day. Ivar wants to play with you. You can worry about affection and reassurance later.

“Go to the kitchen, and fill the pitcher with ice and water. Bring it back on that tray that matches it, and one cup.”

You stand to comply.

“Do not talk to Ubbe, if he is still skulking around out there.”

He isn’t. You try to keep your steps as quiet as possible as you enter the kitchen, so he won’t come out looking, and take down the items Ivar asked for from the top of the cabinet. They were part of a pale blue picnic set you had brought home last week, thinking they would fit well with your domestic fantasies, something nice to serve the boys from this summer. Not quite daring to hope that Ivar had been thinking about how nice the sight of you serving him would be, too.

The tray is heavier than you expected when you’re balancing a very full pitcher on top of it. The ice clinks in a pleasant tinkling as you step swiftly back to Ivar’s room. He’s still perched on the side of the bed when you return. He sweeps his arm toward the bedside table. “Set it down there.”

He watches your movements closely as you comply. “Take the pitcher off the tray. Put the cup in the center.” You do so. “A good thrall must be impeccably graceful, wouldn’t you agree?”

You feel your own perfectionistic anxiety bubble up, but in a mostly fun way. You nod.

“Fill the cup with water. No ice.” There’s a trick to pouring a pitcher without spilling ice from it too, isn’t there? You cross your wrist over the top as you pour cold water slowly through the spout, hoping that will work well enough. “All the way to the brim,” Ivar adds as he watches you.

When it’s completely full, you succeed in pulling the pitcher away without even one drop falling out of place.

“Good. Now carry the tray over here. Without spilling.”

You hold your breath as you grip the handles of the tray, lifting it as evenly as you can. Turning and tottering over to Ivar on your high heels is challenge number two, but you end up standing between his knees without mishap. You offer the cup to him.

“A good thrall must be steady, and patient, focused on her task no matter what happens.” He does not take the cup. “Higher.” You bend your elbows, lifting the tray higher than your waist. “There.” He peers at the top of the cup, now even with his eyes. The liquid is trembling, but stays in place. “Do not allow even a single drop to spill,” he instructs. “Turn around.”

The suspense is killing you as you about-face, carefully.

“Back a little closer to me,” Ivar murmurs, coaxing you to center your body before his with light hands on your hips. “Perfect.”

His touch disappears. He says nothing. You are about to speak, and then you feel fingernails raking up the sides of your thighs.

“Hold very, very still.”

Your arms are already aching a little, from the awkward height that you’re holding the tray, but the sensation is easily ignored when Ivar starts to caress you. His hands feel warm and oh so large as he slides them up and down your stockinged legs, tickling at the lace tops and the bare skin of your upper thighs. Pleasure warms your belly as he begins to carry out the promise his touch held earlier, before he sent you out with the laundry basket.

He swipes one hand up between your thighs. You gasp lightly and open your eyes just in time to see the water slosh at the top of the cup. You get a hold of yourself fast, before that little wave turns into a spill. “Careful,” Ivar teases.

You keep your eyes open, fixed on the water at the top of the cup, as the pleasure of Ivar’s hands intensifies. That first touch between your legs had been light, but the next is not, as he runs his fingers along the silk covering your most private areas. After a few more teasing sweeps, his hands grip around both your thighs, just below the buttocks, and pull in opposite directions.

“Spread your legs wider for me.”

You move slower than you want to, mindful of the water swirling at the surface of the cup, held in only by surface tension as you slide your left foot to the side, then your right. The warm hands running up your inner thighs, then playing along the line of your panties, are a bittersweet reward as you must focus on keeping your body rigid and still.

And that was just the prelude. When he cannot disturb your posture with caresses alone, Ivar pinches your bottom – one, two, three quick jabs at increasing intensity. The pain is mild, but meaningful. It spreads a new kind of warmth along your flesh, heightening the sensitivity in your whole lower half. When Ivar resumes his tickles and caresses, it’s even harder to stay standing.

“You are doing very well, pet,” he croons. “I see you need a greater challenge.”

From the corner of your eye you can see him reaching for something on the table, but you dare not turn your head. You hear ice cubes clink inside the pitcher.

On to Part 4 here

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[boogiewrites]

Don’t Call Her Annie 11

Title: Dancing & Domesticity

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 2500+

Summary:  Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. After she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. After a failed attempt at sacrificing herself for her loved ones, will a near death experience be enough for her and Hopper to admit what’s really going on between them?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Domestic vibes. Feelings (insert Crowley gif here). Slow burn.Tagged folks are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it!

Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

MAY

Jim started dropping off El instead of staying. You could feel him grow more anxious the longer he stayed, the closer you let your bodies get. The longer it went without you talking about your moment, the more the tension grew. You found yourself missing him. 

But without Jim there you got to drink and dance more, which was what you wanted out of girls night originally anyway.

You build the knowledge base that Jim has given El of dancing. Which surprises you. You remember him dancing when he was younger, but that wasn't something you'd expect the big man to keep up with. You let her watch MTV, rated R movies and answered any questions she had that she couldn't ask Jim. You were always dancing when he would pull in to pick her up. She'd light up at the sight of him most nights. She grabs her bag and bounds out the door after her polite goodbyes. He had taught her good manners.

He watches the two of you dancing in the living room as he pulls up every time now. He knows you'll switch the music after you lock the door behind El and pour yourself another drink. If he was lucky you'd have an outer layer he'd get to watch you slink off to the beat of a song he couldn't hear. He gets to watch you dance as he pulls away. It was a small thing he was allowing himself to indulge in.

One night he finds himself stalling longer than usual. He'd had a particularly rough day, trying not to share that information with El on his face as she sits next to him in the car.

"I like watching her dance too." El interrupts his time-killing fidgeting.

"Wh-Huh?" he turns his face fast towards her, she's looking at him with big honest eyes.

"Ann." she nods, looking back to you through the window. "She's a good dancer. I like watching her too." she elaborates. He stutters, surprised at her words and the fact that she noticed.

"Yeah. She uh, she is." he says gruffly, trying to recover his indifferent expression.

"If you like watching her, why don't you come inside to dance with her?" she asks, her face indifferent.

"Well, kid, I don't know if she'd want me to do that." he lets out a small laugh as he moves to grab the gear shift.

"She would." she nods again at him. "She says she misses having someone tall and handsome to dance with." El continues, looking back to you again for a moment before moving back to the cabin of the car. "You are tall and handsome. So she would like that." she says flatly, making him laugh out loud, she jumps at his response.

"I'm handsome?" he laughs, it shakes his shoulders and he ruffles her hair. "Where on earth did you hear that one, kid?" he asks, turning in the driveway.

"Ann." she says looking out the window not realizing what she'd given away.

JUNE

You lazily reach over the side of the couch to pick up the ringing phone. You're deep in a book and don't even bother closing it to answer, your eyes finishing the last sentence before you speak.

"Horowitz." you answer flatly.

"Hey Ann." you hear his voice trial slightly on your name.

"Hey hun, what's going on?" you ask casually.

"A lot. Actually." your eyes go a bit wide in concern, but he soothes your nerves almost immediately. "No, not like that." he lets out a small breathy laugh because he could imagine your face on the other end of the line. "I'm going to be out of town with work and I need to call in a favor." he asks reluctantly.

"Uh huh. I see." you answer, "It'll cost you but I might be willing to help." you grin, finally shutting the book and concentrating fully on the conversation.

"Well, it's a big favor. So I will in fact, very much owe you after this." he chuckles.

"Stop making me worry and just tell me." you say with a soft laugh. Since when was he the dramatic one?

"Alright." he clears his throat. "I need you to watch El for me." he says, his voice confident but reserved.

"Jim, that's nothing! When do you need me? You wanna bring her to Joyce's or?" you ask, moving your hand in explanation to no one.

"No I mean at the cabin." he says lower.

"Oh." you say, your mouth remaining in the "O" shape as your eyes move around the room.

"Yeah I'll be gone for two days and I really don't want her alone that long." you hear the love for her in his voice. Your lips pout at the feeling it gives you.

"I think I'm starting to catch on to why this is a big favor." you say lower. So staying confined in his cabin, with his daughter, taking care of her, being very...domestic. You were not surprised he remembered your conversation that well from the night you agreed to stay, but it touched you in a way that made you want to do any favor he asked. You weren't used to people taking your feelings into account first when building relationships before. Until you'd come back home. Here people listened and cared. You get a funny pain in your chest when you dwell on it too long.

"Yeah." he draws out the word. "I don't want to push any weird unspoken boundaries or anything, but if you would stay with her I would really, really-" you cut him off.

"Save the sales pitch, Jim. I'll do it." you say as if it's nothing. There was a moment of silence on the line.

"That..." you hear him exhale. "Thank you so much, Ann you have no idea what this takes off my mind." you can practically hear his shoulders relax in his tone.

"You'll still owe me. Big time. But you know I'll never pass on an opportunity to have the upper hand on you." you give a soft laugh into the receiver. You suppose you were looking forward to the challenge. Time to play house for a few days.

Since El was still on the down low, for the time being, you have secluded to the cabin without Hopper around. Being alone taking care of a kid you were responsible for had been a living nightmare of yours. And look at you now. She was such a polite, quiet kid that you didn't have much trouble out of her. You asked her what she wanted to do and you did it. You played good cop while the bad cop was out of the house. You'd decided to indulge her with rom-coms, nail polish and answered all her questions along the way. You'd read to her and she to you. You'd start board games you didn't read the rules to, making up your own and ended up not finishing, losing many pieces over the span of three days, you'd deal with the consequences later, right now you just had to get her to bed one last time.

He see's your bike tucked away on the side of the house out of the elements. He quietly pads his way to the door, unlocking the door quietly as it was very late already. He was supposed to be back tomorrow but drove home tonight instead of waiting. He looks around and see's no one, but the lamp in the bedroom is on. He takes off his outer layers, getting comfortable. He sees no dirty dishes, laundry folded on the coffee table and he wonders who you must've paid to watch El instead of doing it yourself with the level of housework he notices is finished. Had you gotten her to do all her chores too? He was honestly a bit taken back by the level of thoroughness you'd approached this favor with. He walks to the kitchen, a poorly made cake sits on the counter top, two pieces cut out of it, a big sloppily draw green icing heart on the top. You must've tried teaching her to bake. He laughs as he pokes a finger into the icing, stealing a dollop. He goes to the fridge to find the grocery shopping finished and meal wrapped in foil in the center of the shelf. He shakes his head and smiles at the thought of you both cooking in the kitchen together.

He decides to check on you, he opens the door to find you curled up in a chair pulled up against her bed. She's deep asleep, you're awake, your nose buried in a book, your eyes are intently focused, your brow low. Your cheek rests on your hand, elbow on the arm of the chair. Your socks show from under the blanket you'd wrapped yourself up in. You don't notice him for a few long seconds. He sees you watching over El, having read her to sleep, still staying in the same room as her even though you didn't have to. He felt a deep shift in his chest and stomach at the sight.

As you yawn your eyes leave the book and you see his head between the door and the frame. You mouth 'hey' and take a big stretch as you quietly leave the room.

"You're back early." you whisper, shutting the door behind you after you give her one final glance.

"I just drove home instead of staying the night." he says, moving out of your way as you head to the kitchen, still stretching and yawning.

"Well, welcome back." you grin, opening the fridge and rubbing your eyes, grabbing a soda. "Food's in here for ya if you want it. " you say, moving the door with your hip and leaning against the counter.

He moves past you to get a beer, which you'd also bought. He looks you over, your hair not styled, no makeup and draws back one corner of his mouth in contemplation of the sight.

"You can stop staring. I know you've not seen me all natural and unkempt many times," you say with a small laugh, moving your hand to present yourself, your cotton shorts and a tank top. Your favorite threadbare flannel over it for modesty and to help cover the still dark scars from your encounters last year, the biggest scar across your upper thigh just peaking out beneath the hem of the mid-thigh hitting shorts. "But that doesn't mean you have to make me self-conscious about it." you smirk and shake your head at him.

"That wasn't my intention." he smiles softly at you, his eyes look like they're searching for something in the distance when he looks at you. "I actually was thinking you looked nice until you opened your mouth." you both choke back your laughter.

"That's usually how it goes." you shrug indifferently, keeping your laughter quiet to not wake El. You turn to go sit at the table.

"What did you girls get into while I was away?" he asks, sitting across from you with a grunt.

"You know, the usual. Drinking, drug trafficking, thefts under $500." you pause while he snorts at your words. "Picking up hitchhikers, introducing her to the idea of teenage rebellion against her father, taking candy from strangers," you shrug casually, "You know, the basics. All the things a young girl needs to know." you grin at him, resting your chin on your hand.

"I should've known better than to leave her with you." he narrows his eyes, a warm smile on his face at your comfortable demeanor.

"We watched movies, painted her nails, read a lot actually. She loves that. " you nod and run your finger over the table in thought, trying to recall if there was anything worth mentioning.

"And baked apparently?" he asks, motioning his head to the cake behind him. You let out a small chuckle.

"Well I made cookies, and those are fast. So she assumed baking a cake would be just as easy and she was so excited about the idea of surprising you with a cake I couldn't say no." your face goes soft at the thought.

"Yeah she gets like that sometimes." he smiles at a memory of her. "I guess I should thank you for also doing all the shopping and cleaning too." he says in a sarcastic tone, but he's really just impressed.

"I know how hot and bothered you get when I go all domestic." you get out before the low chuckle escapes you. He blushes and covers his mouth as he laughs, looking away from you. "Couldn't' pass up on the chance to exceed your expectations." you explain, a smile on your face at the red on his face.

"Well, you did. You even got her to do her chores?" he says impressed.

"Yeah, I just put on some music and danced around and helped her. Wasn't an issue at all." you speak with your hands, your face soft and unbothered. "I think we got everything." you chew your lip, looking around the cabin. "I did shopping and we swept, laundry, dishes, restocked the firewood...yeah. I think I held down the fort pretty well." you swing your head back over to him with a proud smile.

"You did exceed expectations yet again." he crosses his arms on the table leaning forward and looking you over again.

"Never get tired of hearing that." you shake your head proudly. "Thanks." you bat your eyelashes and press your chin to your shoulder sheepishly.

"No. Thank you." he points at you before reaching out and taking your hand. He slides his fingers against yours and rests them on the table top, as he looks intently into your eyes. The sudden intimate nature of the gesture catches you off guard as your mouth falls open for a second as you're obviously affected by the small touch. "Seriously." his voice drops and you lean in to match his posture. "Thank you." he says again, squeezing your hand.

"You're welcome." leaning forward and putting both your hands on his, you give him a quick peck for his sweet words. He's giving you that dumb little smile of his, his teeth just barely showing.

"I would've been a mess without you here this weekend." he almost whispers. His smooth tone makes it your turn to blush.

"You're a mess whether I'm here or not, Jim." you pick at him, your nose scrunching but your lips send a different sort of smile his way.

"Yeah, but I prefer to be a mess with you around." he squeezes your hands and pulls you closer, making you put your legs underneath you in the chair to lean on the table to be able to stretch over to him. You shake your head with a reluctance to your actions as his grin grows wider the closer you get. He closes the rest of the space between you and returns the kiss you'd given him, but thankfully this one goes on longer.

"When'd you get so sweet, Jim?" you coo at him, as he lets your hands go, as you slide back into your seat. You don't want El to wake up and see you crawling across the table to her protector. You fluff your hair and sigh at him, your defenses down.

"I could ask you the same question." he answers smugly. His words make you blush. Again.

Chapter 12 Music & Misunderstanding

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