#if only she looked more like this in the show

[whytheylosttheirminds]

you knock me out, i fall apart

being a new dad is the scariest thing in the world for rafe, until his baby girl smiles at him for the first time...

When his daughter was born, she cried so loud that Rafe thought something must be wrong. But then he saw your face, full of relief and joy as they placed your baby girl on your chest.

“She’s a fighter, huh?” The nurse asked with a chuckle.

“Just like her dad,” you said, leaning back onto the pillows and gazing up at Rafe with so much affection and relief in your eyes he thought he might be dreaming. He hoped you didn’t see the blood drain from his own face.

The baby’s little fists clenched as she kept crying out, letting the world know she was here and she was not going to be quiet about it.

“Wh-what’s wrong with her?” Rafe looked at the doctor with a panic stricken face. “Is she hurt?”

The doctor didn’t seem worried, which irritated Rafe. Could he not hear her? She was so tiny and helpless, why did no one else seem worried?

“It’s a good thing, healthy lungs,” the doctor told him casually. “Got a name?”

“Josephine Cameron,” you answered without a second thought. 

You’d picked the first name only a few weeks after discovering you were pregnant, but you and Rafe had never talked about her last name. He assumed you didn’t want to offend him by saying it’d be better if your baby girl didn’t have the weight of his name strapped to her. Her life would be hard enough with a fuck up like him for a father.

“You want her name to be Cameron?” Rafe asked in surprise, his face still ashen while yours was glowing with sweat and color and new mom joy.

“Of course,” you said simply, eyes fluttering shut with exhaustion. “Mine will be too soon.”

He was stunned, but he tried not to show it, hoping everyone in the room would attribute his teary eyes to the exhaustion of your twenty-four hour labor. He’d been awake and at your side for every single second.

For just a moment, all was quiet. Then, Josie’s face scrunched with a fury he’d only ever seen in the mirror. Her scream built like a wave, crashing over the room when she finally wailed with all the force of her tiny lungs. Rafe’s heart shattered at the sound. All he wanted in the world was to help her, to take away her pain, and he hated that he had no idea how to.

He didn’t understand how you could be so calm while something was clearly wrong with the baby. But you just rubbed her back, Josie settling under your gentle touch and nuzzling into the soft skin of your bare chest. Looking down at the two of you, he’d never been more in love, or more sure that he wasn’t cut out for this. Not like you were.

“Can you take her?” You requested through a yawn.

“I-I can’t…I don’t know how.”

You smiled at him, your heavy eyelids struggling to stay open. 

“Just cradle her head, like this.”

You demonstrated for him before passing the little bundle in your arms over to him. 

His hands were shaking, shoulders tense. He held her away from his chest, eyes wide with panic.

“What if I drop her?”

Beneath his words, his truest fear - what if I’m too much, and it hurts her?

But you were already slipping into well-earned sleep.

“You won’t, baby,” you said dreamily.

Rafe wasn’t so sure. He met Josie’s eyes, her little blue irises identical to his own as she blinked up at him. She was only a few minutes old, but he thought he saw something knowing in her gaze, her face reading something like, this guy? Seriously?

He had the strange urge to apologize to her: yeah so sorry, this was all a big misunderstanding. I’ll go get your real dad now.

But he couldn’t, because he was her real dad, no substitutes would be coming to rescue her from that fact. 

Josie’s blanket came unswaddled as Rafe continued to struggle to hold her properly. You couldn’t fight off the sleep that took over, so a nurse rushed to his side and mercifully pulled Josie from his arms to place her in the bassinet. He was grateful, but felt strongly like he’d just failed his first fatherhood test.

Just like her dad, you’d said.

For Josie’s sake, he sure hoped not.

------❤︎------

Rafe had committed to getting clean the second he saw that little pink plus sign on the pregnancy test. And he’d kept his promise. His body took a long time to adjust, but now he was healthier than ever. He woke up with you for every feeding, hair messy and eyes half closed as he went to the kitchen to get you water and a midnight snack.

“You can go back to sleep, love,” you’d assure him sweetly.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” He’d say.

You stopped trying to convince him to go back to sleep, grateful for his partnership in the exhausting early hours.

One night, only a few days after you’d gotten home from the hospital, you finished feeding Josie and set her on the boppy laid on your mattress. She wriggled and stretched, drowsy in a milk haze. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told Rafe, standing to head into the shower.

“Oh, uh, okay.” He tried not to let you hear his nerves. He hadn’t spent much time alone with the baby since carrying her in from the car a few days ago. He was still so sure he’d break her if given the chance.

Josie settled for a minute, he thought she’d gone back to sleep. Just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, her little eyes blinked open, staring unfocused at the ceiling above her. Her vision hadn’t developed yet, but he could tell she sensed her mother’s absence already. Her face scrunched in the unsettled way Rafe was quickly learning led to her cries.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, shhh.” Rafe pulled the boppy closer to him, letting it sit between his legs as he bent over the baby, his bare shoulders casting a shadow across her tiny body in the dim lamplight.

“She’ll be right back,” he tried to sound assuring, but his eyes flicked nervously to the cracked open bathroom door, hoping you’d change your mind about a shower and come back to them.

He looked down at his daughter and took a deep breath, reaching tentatively to place a hand on her little belly. Since she was born, you’d been trying to determine who she looked more like - you or Rafe. But now, gazing down at her, it was strikingly clear how much she looked like a Cameron. 

Her chubby little cheeks concave in tiny dimples, just like her dad’s. Her bright eyes are deep blue, just like her dad’s. Her little forehead scrunches and her little lips purse when she’s upset, just like her dad’s. 

The sudden realization that she looked so much like him warmed Rafe from the inside out, something completely new blooming in his chest. She was his. His baby girl. His eyes grew damp as she squirmed and squawked, looking around the room like she was still trying to find you. He gently settled the tips of his calloused forefingers in the dips in her soft cheeks, unable to resist a gentle squish.

“Hi baby,” he said lovingly.

The deep, soft sound of his voice caught her attention, her eyes locking on him. And then she smiled.

Rafe’s heart leapt in his chest, he looked up, considering calling out for you to come see, but he was speechless. He was tempted to take a picture, but no image could capture how perfect this moment was.

“Hi Jojo,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “Are you smiling at dada? You’re smiling at dada! My girl!” 

The parenting books stacked on his bedside table had taught him most babies don’t smile until they’re six weeks old, but the longer he looked at her in amazement, the wider she smiled at him. 

“You’re better than most babies, huh?” He cooed. “Yeah. ‘Cause you’re my smart girl. You’re dada’s girl.”

Without even thinking about it, he scooped her into his arms. She was already nestled against his chest, skin to skin, before it hit him how natural the movement had been. He was finally holding her the way she needed him to. She scrunched up her little body, curled on his chest in perfect peace.

Rafe dropped a featherlight kiss to the top of her head as she drifted off to sleep.

“My girl.”

------❤︎------

a/n: wait I loved writing this sm. I might do some more dada rafe and baby jojo fluff soon <3

divider credit to @qqmariztwsse !

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity

Sylus x Non!Mc

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: thank you for the love in the previous chapter 🥹

Link to Part 1

It's been a month or two since the last time you've been with Sylus. It saddens you that the time you get to spend together is cut short, only seeing each other at night when he pleases to have dinner or greet you goodnight.

You asked Luke and Kieran about what's happening, but they don't know either. They just know it has something to do with Miss Hunter, about Aether Core, about something that you have very little knowledge about. You mentally noted to search about it later.

“He is very grumpy lately,” Luke said, "He was glaring at us like he wants to skin us alive whenever me and my twin are being a little louder than normal.”

"The only one safe from his anger is Miss Hunter,” Kieran added. "I don't appreciate that Boss is playing favorites in our team.”

You tried not to let out a shaky breath. Luke noticed and he had to elbow Kieran to make him shut up.

"Sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile. "It's okay. I'll try and catch Sylus one of these days. I'll talk to him.”

The twins scurry away while arguing. They think they offended you and they are passing on the blame with each other.

On normal days, it's not easy to get you offended but lately, every little thing just makes you … sensitive.

Maybe it started when you wanted that crow brooch that is neatly placed on Sylus's table …

When you asked him for it he just said, “It's for Miss Hunter,"

He took it from your hand. Albeit gently, it still weighed heavy in your heart.

You know you don't always get your way but with the little seeds of jealousy slowly growing in your heart, it's easy to feel hurt and feel neglected.

You just wanted that damn brooch and you know that he can buy another piece. Or even make you a custom-made one, one that is more inclined on your taste.

You took a deep breath.

Sylus is stressed. You know that and it's not right to add more to his burden. It's just a brooch after all.

“I-I didn't know, but when you have the time to grab one, remember me, okay?” you said.

"Next time, sweetie.” He replied and quickly went back to reading reports.

You don't know if he took your words seriously, but you have enough faith in him to trust that he did.

Or maybe the disappointment started when you wanted to go to Linkon.

There's a newly opened arcade shop that you're really itching to go.

Normally, Sylus would agree and watch you play. He's not the best when it comes to the claw machine, anyway.

So imagine your surprise when he rejected your offer. Not only that, the answer that followed chipped away at your heart little by little.

“Me and Miss Hunter already went there. It's not as fun as the other ones you've tried. You're just gonna waste your time there. Not even new plushies,” he even had the audacity to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed like he didn't think before speaking or he didn't see anything wrong with what he said.

Truthfully, there is none. The logical part of you knows he didn't say anything wrong. But for fuck's sake! Really telling your girlfriend that you went to the arcade with another woman? That's new. That's not something she expected of Sylus.

“You went with her?" you asked. You're anticipating his answer. Praying it's something logical. Something acceptable.

Please tell me it has something to do with those missions.

He looked at you, trying to see what's in your mind but you didn't show anything. Blocking any negative emotions from seeping on the cracks of your face. You tried to look as curious and as genuine as you can be.

Thankfully, he believed that.

“Yes. We went there after getting some intel around the area. She dragged me inside and she played until her heart's content. I remembered she went home with that crow plushie with a bib. She looked happy,"

You almost wanted to scoff at his face. You wanted that plushe as well, he seemed to forget about that. If it's only about the plushie maybe you can push down these negative feelings but here he is looking so endeared while saying that. As if he's not talking to his girlfriend.

Patience. Patience.

“I see. Good for her.” you said. "I also want that crow stuffed toy. Good thing to know they have them."

You tried giving him a hint. It's not like you to make anyone guess what's on your mind.

But then there's silence. And a beep on his phone. He tore his gaze away from you and your statement long forgotten.

At that point, you're holding yourself together trying not to scream and yell at him.

Maybe that's where it started. Maybe it's when you know that the distractions were not just caused by the missions but by Miss Hunter herself.

==

You sighed. It's evening and Sylus is still nowhere to be found. You texted him but you're met with silence. You wanted to call, but you hesitated. It feels like you don't have the right to do it.

Worry starts gnawing at you when Luke and Kieran hurriedly go out. They didn't even have the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Minutes kept ticking, and you heard it.

Explosions.

Your heart stopped and you wanted to run to where it was because something tells you that Sylus is there. He's in danger.

But before you can even step out of the base, Sylus's men stopped you.

“Boss’s orders to not let the Madame go out when the mission is in full swing. Please wait for him here."

You wanted to pull your hair out. You're trembling with worry but anywhere you go, someone will stop you. You can't even sneak out because that will surely trigger the alarms.

With a heavy heart you slumped on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Sylus what is happening when are you coming home!” you muttered to yourself.

You kept pacing and pacing every second seemed to last a lifetime.

Until the door opened.

And there he was, shirt torn, hair deshiveled and a few scratches on his body.

"Thank God you're alive!” you exclaimed and caught his heavy body before he lost consciousness.

"Sylus? Sylus!” you tried shaking him, but he won't wake up.

You settled him on the couch and grabbed the nearest first aid kit you can reach. Sylus might have the fastest regeneration in the world but it won't ease your worries about the small cuts that still remains on his body.

You tried suppressing your tears seeing him like this but you just can't. As you press the cotton on his cuts, you can't help but open your mouth and nag him about being careless.

“I know you think that this body is invincible, but please be careful! You need to come home to me. You have to come home to me. No matter how I'm annoyed at you right now, you don't have the rights to make me worry like this.”

“What's so important in that mission that you exhaust yourself like this? What's so important about Miss Hunter that you're willing to do such great lengths?"

You know that he can't hear you, but still you talked to him until you calmed down and ask his men to help you settle him in bed after changing him. You called the physician to check him up for anything. You kept yourself busy to shrugg of the nerves but those questions still linger in your head.

Sylus is a strategist even though he looks smug and arrogant. He carefully plans everything and tries to move in quiet only letting the results speak for themselves.

But this? This is not the usual.

Explosions everywhere and declaring a full on war with his enemies is not his style. You know that there's nothing really beneficial for him in this deal with Miss Hunter.

You managed to understand a bit about what their goals are. Getting that Aether core for Miss Hunter.

Tough mission, yes. But Sylus won't grab it if he won't benefit from it. And that's what you're left puzzled with. Sylus is a businessman, everything should be give and take.

So? What's in it for him?

==

You didn't expect the answer to voluntarily come to you. You went to his study to look for something or anything that you can help him with now that he's still unconscious when you stumbled upon a journal.

You thought it was not Sylus's. You never see him as someone who will write down his thoughts but you were dead wrong.

You opened it expecting it to be a list of things related to Onychinus, but you were greeted with phrases, sentences and some sketches about Miss Hunter.

You read each of them, it was a jumble of words. You almost thought it was a fairytale.

Past lives.

Dragon and Sorceress.

Kindred Spirits.

Energy Linkage.

Sweet Evil Trap.

All of it is too much. Too much for your poor little heart to take. And from what you understood, Miss Hunter is from his past. Someone who has a part of his soul.

Someone he waits for.

And the bitter realization although still unfounded, you concluded that maybe she's someone he still loves.

But what about you? What's your place in the grand scheme of things?

“I’m keeping you around because you’re still useful.”

Those lines ring in your ears. Sylus always say that to everyone but you. You thought that maybe you are an exception. That you're not someone disposable to him because you matter.

And as you soak up all the information that you knew, you started to doubt yourself as well.

note: aaackkk thank u for reading lemme know your thoughts! Part 3 soonest!

[mrspiastri]

✩ lights, camera, action! 📸

pairing: lando norris x reader

cw: fluff, annoying reporters, austria 2024

wc: 4.9k words

an: thanks for the req anon, hope u like it! pls excuse any spelling errors i could not be arsed enough to proofread this more than twice :p

“So, they’re just going to be in our house… recording us the entire day?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“And this is happening for a month?”

“Maybe two, depending on how much footage they need.”

A beat of silence.

Lando turned to his girlfriend, watching as she set her Kindle down and looked at him with a sharp glare. All she had wanted was a quiet night in, some light reading before bed, not this conversation.

“So, what do you think?” he asked carefully.

“I think you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Lando stifled a chuckle, scooting closer despite the warning in her eyes. “It’s not that bad, I promise. They’ll get all your good angles. And if there’s anything you don’t want in, I’ll make sure they cut it out.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. The idea of letting a camera crew into their home, her safe space, the one place where she could collapse onto the couch after work without a second thought, was unsettling.

“Look, I’m not going to force you,” Lando said, his voice softer now. “Just think about it. It’s like… our moments together being immortalized.”

She arched her brow, still unconvinced.

“We could even look back on them years later,” he continued, ever the optimist. “Show them to our kids!”

Y/N gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

“Just give me a day or two,” she muttered at last.

“Of course, love.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before letting the subject drop.

Three days later, Y/N found herself reluctantly agreeing, under strict conditions:

1. No cameras before 9 AM or after 10 PM.

2. No filming arguments or fights (if they happened).

3. No recording private conversations.

The production team had no issue following her rules, and soon enough, cameras and microphones became a regular sight in their living room and kitchen.

To her surprise, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. The Drive To Survive crew was respectful, and off-camera, they were actually lovely to talk to.

Not that she’d ever admit it to Lando. She had no interest in hearing an “ I told you so.”

Still, she had to admit, there was something oddly enjoyable about it. The cameras felt natural, capturing the effortless way she and Lando fit together. Their banter. Their energy.

Even the crew enjoyed filming them. Because if there was one thing about Y/N and Lando, it was that they were effortlessly entertaining.

The couple had an air of domesticity around them, which was visible during certain moments, like when Y/N announced she was going grocery shopping.

🪻🪻

She didn’t question it at first.

Lando had followed her around their apartment, slipping on his hoodie and sneakers, acting as if they were about to embark on some thrilling adventure rather than… well, a simple trip to the grocery store. But when he practically rushed out the door behind her, stuffing his hands into his pockets like he was trying to play it cool, she finally turned to him with a raised brow.

"Alright, what’s going on?"

Lando blinked at her, feigning innocence. "What do you mean?"

"You insisted on coming with me," she pointed out as she slid into the passenger seat of her car. "Since when are you so eager to go grocery shopping?"

Lando smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Maybe I just like spending time with you."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "It’s just shopping, Lando."

"Yes… and?"

She shot him a look, but he only grinned, reaching over to intertwine his fingers with hers as he started the car. She glanced down at their joined hands, warmth flickering in her chest.

Maybe it was just shopping. But to him, time with her, no matter how mundane, was worth tagging along for.

The grocery store was as uneventful as ever, aisles filled with tired parents, students grabbing last-minute essentials, and employees stacking shelves. Y/N navigated the space with practiced ease, mentally ticking off the list in her head.

Lando, on the other hand, was thoroughly entertained by everything.

"You know, people are going to think I’m useless because you’re the one actually shopping," Lando mused, walking beside you with a basket dangling from his arm. A small mic was clipped to his hoodie, and a camera trailed at a respectful distance, catching every moment.

"You are useless," you teased, grabbing a carton of eggs and placing them into the basket.

Lando let out a scandalized gasp, pressing a hand to his chest. "Excuse me? I am an excellent grocery shopper. Watch this."

Before you could stop him, he darted toward a display of snacks, dramatically grabbing a family-sized bag of chips and tossing it into the basket. The camera crew caught it all, no doubt enjoying his antics.

"Wow," you said dryly, watching him grin. "Such a valuable contribution."

"You’re welcome." He leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple before whispering, "At least pretend I’m helpful, love. My reputation is at stake."

She shook her head, amused. He stayed close beside her, fingers occasionally brushing hers when he pointed out random things, a ridiculous cereal box, a weirdly shaped vegetable, an overpriced snack that made him nearly collapse in shock.

Then, as they rounded the next aisle, something caught her eye.

"No way," Y/N gasped, halting so suddenly that Lando bumped into her.

"What? What happened? Are we in danger?" he asked dramatically, clutching her arm.

She ignored him, grabbing a brightly colored package from the meat fridge. “It’s the spicy chorizo I was looking for! It’s been out of stock for months! Lando, do you know what this means?"

"Uh," he blinked, glancing at the box in her hands. "That some company is trying to get people to buy their products again?"

She huffed. "No, dummy. This means I can finally make those chorizo tapas you love so much."

Lando stared at her, as if processing her words. "Wait. You mean—?"

"Yeah," she said, waving the package at him. "You always say it’s one of your favorites, right? So I’ll make it the way it’s meant to be made, not with those other lame brands.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at her. And then, unexpectedly, he reached for her hand and squeezed it, his thumb running over her knuckles.

"You remembered that?" His voice was quieter now, softer.

She scoffed. "Of course, I did. You never shut up about it."

Lando let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head, but there was something fond in his eyes, something almost touched.

"You’re the best," he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. Right there in the middle of the grocery aisle, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, with an old woman giving them a knowing smile as she passed.

Y/N felt warmth creep up her neck, but she just rolled her eyes. "I know."

Lando grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they continued walking. "See? And you thought I was weird for wanting to tag along."

"You are weird."

"Yeah, but I’m your kind of weird."

She laughed, leaning into his side as they made their way to checkout.

Maybe it was just shopping.

But with Lando, even the ordinary felt like something special.

🪻🪻🪻

The morning sun cast a golden glow over their Monaco apartment, filling the space with soft warmth. The neatly packed bags by the door were a reminder of the plans they’d made, plans Y/N had initially thought were just a fleeting idea when Lando suggested them. But here they were, two years into their relationship, and he was still finding ways to make things special.

Lando stirred beside her, his arm tightening around her waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, voice still thick with sleep.

“Happy anniversary, love.”

She smiled, tilting her head slightly to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy anniversary, Lando.”

He hummed in contentment, pulling her closer. “Can we just stay in bed all day instead?”

Y/N laughed softly, tracing lazy patterns along his back. “As tempting as that sounds, weren’t you the one who planned this whole day trip?”

Lando groaned dramatically, burying his face deeper into the pillow. “Who let me make decisions?”

“You did.”

Another groan.

A small chuckle from the corner of the room made her glance over, where one of the film crew members was adjusting a camera, capturing the intimate yet domestic moment. Lando peeked an eye open and groaned even louder when he saw them.

“Great,” he mumbled. “Now the world gets to see me beg to stay in bed.”

Y/N grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his nose before slipping out from under the covers. “Come on, sleepyhead. We have a road trip to go on.”

By mid-morning, they were driving along the winding coastal roads of the French Riviera, two crew members filming them from the back seat, capturing snippets of their journey. Lando’s hand rested on Y/N’s thigh as he effortlessly steered with the other, the soft hum of music filling the space between them.

She glanced over at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “So, are you ever going to tell me why you picked Èze?”

Lando smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to impress you with my impeccable taste?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her fondness.

The moment they arrived in Èze, Lando reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers as they wandered through the narrow, cobbled streets. The medieval village, perched high above the Côte d’Azur, was breathtaking, its stone walls adorned with climbing vines, small boutiques tucked into hidden corners, and the salty sea breeze carrying the scent of fresh flowers.

The crew trailed them subtly, capturing the way Lando would lean in every few minutes just to steal a quick kiss, or how his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against her skin as they stopped to admire the view.

“You do realize people are going to say you’re way too clingy, right?” Y/N teased, nodding toward one of the cameras.

Lando shrugged, unbothered. “Let them.” He turned to the nearest cameraman, grinning. “I am clingy. Make sure you put that in the episode.”

The crew chuckled, but Y/N just shook her head, laughing as Lando pulled her into the nearest café.

Lunch was slow and easy, filled with stolen bites of food, quiet laughter, and the occasional “Look at him being soft” comment from Y/N to the film crew. Lando didn’t seem to care, not when she was there, looking at him like he was her favorite thing in the world.

When dessert arrived, two chocolate soufflés, Lando picked up a spoonful and held it out for her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to feed me while they’re filming?”

He smirked. “It’s romantic.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned in anyway, letting him feed her. Lando grinned triumphantly, stealing a bite for himself.

“Put that in the episode, too,” he quipped.

As the afternoon stretched on, they hiked up to the Jardin Exotique, a stunning garden perched at the very top of Èze. The panoramic view of the coastline was nothing short of magical, the kind of scene that made everything else feel small in comparison.

Lando wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“This might be my favorite anniversary so far,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, tilting her head to rest against his. “We’ve only had two.”

“Still. It’s hard to beat.”

A breeze drifted through, ruffling his curls as he held her, their hands fitting together so effortlessly.

Y/N turned in his arms, her gaze soft. “I love you, you know.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers for a moment before he cupped her face, pressing a slow, tender kiss to her lips, one that felt like a promise, like forever.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, exhaling deeply. “I know,” he whispered. “And I love you more.”

A cough from behind them broke the moment, and one of the crew members hesitated before speaking.

“Uh… that was beautiful,” they admitted. “Can you do it again for a better angle?”

Lando groaned as Y/N burst into laughter.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, pulling her closer with a mischievous grin. “Guess we have to keep kissing.”

🪻🪻🪻

The second Y/N stepped into the apartment, she knew something was different. It wasn’t just the warmth of the space or the soft glow of the kitchen lights, there was something familiar in the air. A rich, buttery scent, layered with warm spices, the kind that immediately sent a comforting feeling straight to her soul.

She froze mid-step.

That was butter chicken.

Her favorite food.

And there was only one person in this house who would make that for her.

Her heart raced as she set her bag down and rounded the corner into the kitchen, where she found exactly what she hoped to see Lando, standing at the stove, stirring a pot with the kind of focus he usually reserved for a race car. His curls were still damp from a recent shower, his sleeves pushed up as he leaned against the counter, tasting the sauce with an expression of concentration.

He looked up just as she entered, and the slow smile that spread across his face made her stomach flip.

“Hey, love.”

She blinked, still processing. “You’re… home?”

He smirked. “Surprise.”

Her mouth fell open. “But… you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night?”

“Got an earlier flight.” He turned back to the stove, giving the pot one last stir before lowering the heat. “Figured I’d come back and make your favorite.”

She couldn’t believe it. She had been fully prepared to spend the evening alone, eating something mediocre while scrolling through her phone, missing him. But instead, he was here. Cooking for her.

Y/N didn’t think, she just launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his hoodie as she breathed him in.

Lando laughed as he caught her, arms circling her shoulders as he held her close. “I take it you missed me?”

“Obviously,” she mumbled against his chest. “You were gone for so long.”

“Babe, it was five days.”

“Exactly. Too long.”

He chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her hair. “Missed you too, love.”

A throat cleared from the corner of the kitchen, and Y/N stiffened slightly before peeking over Lando’s shoulder, only to find one of the crew members, clearly amused.

She groaned, burying her face back into Lando’s chest. “You let them film this?”

“I didn’t let them,” he said, amused. “They just… didn’t leave. Wanted to see you surprised and all.”

One of the crew members laughed. “In our defense, this is adorable.”

Lando grinned, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. “Come on, love. You don’t want the world to see how obsessed you are with me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I will shove your face into that butter chicken.”

His smirk widened. “Joke’s on you, I made extra.”

She rolled her eyes but let him pull her closer, letting herself bask in the warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of home.

Later, as they sat at the dining table, Lando watched her take her first bite, waiting for her reaction like a nervous contestant on a cooking show.

Y/N hummed in delight, eyes closing briefly as the flavors hit her tongue. “Oh my God.”

His lips twitched. “Good?”

She opened her eyes, pointing her spoon at him. “Suspiciously good. Since when can you cook like this?”

Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “What, you think I can’t learn things?”

“I just… didn’t know you wanted to.”

He shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just wanted to impress my girlfriend.”

Y/N softened, her heart swelling. “You have impressed me. This is amazing.”

“Damn right it is.”

She giggled, shaking her head before taking another bite. “Okay, tell me about Shanghai. How was the race?”

Lando exhaled dramatically, shifting in his seat. “Ugh. Where do I even start? First of all, the strategy was so weird, like, I don’t know what they were thinking. And then, I had this fight with Max for like a hundred laps, and I swear, I thought we were gonna crash at least three times—”

As he continued, his hands animatedly reenacting the on-track battles, Y/N just sat there, watching him, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

She loved seeing him like this, completely in his element, passionate, excited. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about racing, the way his hands moved as if he were still behind the wheel.

“You’re staring,” Lando suddenly noted, smirking.

She blinked, cheeks warming. “No, I’m not.”

“You are.” He leaned in, resting his chin in his hand as he grinned. “You’re in love with me.”

She scoffed, trying (and failing) to hide her smile. “Don’t flatter yourself, Norris.”

“I mean, I did just fly home early and make your favorite food…” He reached across the table, running his fingers gently over her wrist. “Pretty sure that earns me some extra love points.”

Y/N laughed softly, flipping her hand to intertwine their fingers. “You already have all my love points, you idiot.”

He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Good. I plan on keeping them.”

She shook her head, taking another bite of the butter chicken. “Okay, but seriously, I want to hear the rest. So, you and Max—”

“Shh.” Lando reached over and gently placed a spoonful of rice on her plate, then another, before looking at her expectantly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you just—”

“Just shh and eat,” he said, his voice playfully firm. “I know you. If I let you talk too much, you’ll forget to eat, and then you’ll be grumpy later.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the corners of her lips twitched. “You’re so annoying.”

Lando laughed, leaning over the table to steal a quick kiss. “Yeah, yeah. Now eat up.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but obeyed, feeling impossibly warm inside.

There was something so simple about moments like this, the quiet, easy rhythm of their lives together. The way Lando cared for her in ways that weren’t always grand gestures but in the little things. The way he listened, the way he noticed, the way he just knew her.

Even with cameras in the background, even with the world watching, this was theirs.

And Y/N wouldn’t trade it for anything.

🪻🪻🪻

Las Vegas was supposed to be his night.

Lando sat in the dimly lit hospitality suite, still in his race suit, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. The weight of the evening pressed down on him, Max had clinched the title, and he had been so close. The points gap wasn’t enormous. If things had gone just slightly differently, if the strategy had been sharper, if he had just pushed a little harder—

He exhaled sharply, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor.

The suite was silent, except for the muffled sounds of celebration echoing from outside. His team was still proud, of course. McLaren had fought hard all season. He had fought hard. But second place wasn’t the dream. First was the dream.

And he had lost it.

The quiet creak of the door barely registered in his mind, but the soft footsteps that followed were unmistakable.

Y/N.

She didn’t say anything at first. She simply walked over, standing beside him for a moment, watching him.

Then, she crouched down in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “Lando.”

His eyes flickered up to hers. He knew the cameras were still rolling somewhere in the room, capturing all of this, his frustration, his exhaustion, the moment where his season had slipped away.

But right now, he didn’t care.

Y/N’s gaze was steady, her touch grounding. Slowly, she reached up, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over the sharp line of his jaw.

“Talk to me,” she murmured.

Lando exhaled through his nose, his hand coming up to cover hers, pressing it against his skin as if he needed the contact to anchor him.

“I should’ve done more,” he finally muttered.

She frowned. “Lando—”

“No, really,” he cut in, shaking his head. “It was so close. We had the pace. We had the car. I just—” He exhaled roughly, eyes darting away. “I wasn’t good enough.”

Her heart ached at the way he said it, at the way his voice dipped into something raw and self-deprecating.

“Lando,” she said softly but firmly, tilting his face back toward her. “You were more than good enough.”

He let out a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Because you expect perfection from yourself. But look at what you did this season. Look at how hard you fought. You challenged Max. You took it down to the wire when no one thought you could. You made them believe.”

His gaze softened, but she wasn’t finished.

“You think second place makes you less?” she whispered. “It doesn’t. You’re still you, Lando. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

His throat bobbed, his grip on her hand tightening.

“You’re just saying that,” he mumbled.

Y/N shook her head. “I never just say things. You know that.”

He let out a slow breath, his eyes searching hers like he was trying to hold onto her words, trying to let them sink in.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, with a small sigh, he pulled her into his lap, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

She smiled faintly, running her fingers through his curls. He never did well with failure, not because he wasn’t used to it, but because he always carried it too much.

But he wasn’t alone in this.

And as she held him, rocking him slightly, she could feel the tension in his body slowly start to ease.

The crew was still there, capturing every second.

But all Lando cared about was her.

And somehow, for the first time all night, losing didn’t feel quite so devastating.

The press pen after the race was always exhausting, but tonight, it was unbearable.

Lando had lost the championship. He had done every interview with his usual composure, polite, measured, controlled. He had smiled when necessary, congratulated Max, and answered the same four questions in slightly different ways.

But this one?

This one was pushing it.

"Lando, do you think this was your only real shot at a title? Or do you worry you might just not have what it takes?"

The question landed like a slap.

Lando barely blinked. His PR training kicked in immediately, forcing a neutral expression as he nodded, exhaling through his nose.

"Look, we had a great season, and I’m proud of what we achieved. Obviously, it didn’t end the way we wanted, but I know we’ll come back stronger."

It was the kind of answer that was designed to deflect, to keep things from escalating.

The interviewer, however, seemed satisfied with their little dig, moving on to the next driver.

Lando barely had time to process it before he heard a very familiar voice from just beyond the camera crew.

"Are you actually kidding me right now?"

He turned just in time to see Y/N standing off to the side, arms crossed, glaring absolute murder at the interviewer’s back.

The Drive to Survive crew, who had been filming his interview, immediately turned their cameras to her.

"What kind of stupid question was that?" she ranted, clearly not caring that she was being recorded. "‘Do you think you don’t have what it takes?’ Seriously? What kind of journalism school did this guy go to? All he knows is how to rile people up!”

Lando pressed his lips together, trying very, very hard not to laugh.

She was fuming.

"He should be embarrassed," she continued, still glaring. "Lando literally fought for this title until the last possible second, and that’s the best he could come up with? I should go over there right now—"

Lando immediately stepped in, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her into his chest before she could march into the press pen and make headlines. "Alright, alright," he murmured against her hair, biting back a grin. "That’s enough murder threats for one night."

"I wasn’t threatening murder," she huffed, but she didn’t resist when he turned her to face him. "I was just saying that guy deserves to step on fifty Legos barefoot."

"That’s fair," Lando admitted, his grip tightening slightly as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "But I promise, I’m okay."

She searched his face, still frowning slightly. "You shouldn’t have to deal with that."

"I know." He smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But I’d rather deal with bad interviews than have to bail my girlfriend out for punching a reporter."

"No promises," she muttered, but her lips twitched, betraying her frustration.

Lando chuckled, then, because he simply couldn’t help himself, tilted her chin up and kissed her, slow and soft, like he had all the time in the world.

He felt the presence of what seemed to be a thousand cameras on them, but he didn’t care.

Because right now, nothing else mattered.

🪻🪻🪻

The studio setup was familiar by now, the sleek black backdrop, the dramatic lighting, the Drive to Survive crew hovering around with their cameras and microphones. It was the same place where all the serious, intense driver interviews had been filmed throughout the season.

Except today, it wasn’t serious.

Because today, it was Lando and Y/N sitting on the interview couch together, and nothing about them being in the same room was ever serious.

Lando leaned back comfortably, one arm draped over the back of the couch behind Y/N, while she sat cross-legged beside him, her fingers lazily toying with the hem of her dress. The crew had barely started rolling when he shot the camera a mischievous grin.

“So,” he said, adjusting his mic, “are we finally getting our own spin-off? Because I think the world deserves to see the behind-the-scenes of my life with this one.” He nudged Y/N playfully.

She snorted. “Your life? Excuse me? I’m the normal one in this relationship.”

The interviewer chuckled. “Lando, would you agree with that?”

Lando turned to her, looking absolutely scandalized. “Absolutely not. This woman started a verbal fight with a group of fans and nearly went after a reporter on my behalf. The only reason she’s not banned from the paddock is because she’s cute.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “The only reason you weren’t banned from my apartment after losing the title was because you’re cute.”

Lando grinned, nudging her shoulder. “So you admit it? I am cute?”

The crew laughed as Y/N let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “Fine. You’re alright.”

“Alright?” He turned to the camera. “You see how she treats me?”

The interviewer, still chuckling, moved on. “Alright, let’s go back to the start of the season. You’ve had a whirlwind year Lando, you were a title contender, and Y/N, you were very vocal throughout. What’s been your favorite moment we’ve captured?”

Y/N hummed, tapping her chin. “Ooh, good question. Probably when Lando lost his mind after that crash with Max.”

The crew laughed knowingly.

Lando groaned, but he was smiling. “Of course that’s your favorite. Not like, I don’t know, any of my actual racing?”

“Oh, right,” she said, grinning. “The whole driving really fast thing. You’re decent at that.”

The interviewer raised a brow. “Just decent?”

Lando turned to Y/N, smirking. “I was in a title fight, you know.”

“Okay, okay, you were great,” she admitted, patting his knee. “There. Happy?”

Lando nodded smugly. “Very.”

The interviewer smiled. “And Lando, what about you? Favorite moment we’ve captured?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Her reaction after my first win in Miami.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Wait, really?”

Lando looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, I mean I’d never seen you that happy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I like making you happy.”

Y/N bit her lip, warmth spreading in her chest. “Okay, that was kinda sweet.”

“I have my moments,” Lando said, leaning in closer. “You should kiss me now.”

The crew laughed, but Y/N just pushed his face away with a laugh. “We’re literally being filmed right now, Norris.”

“Yeah, and?”

The interviewer, still amused, decided to wrap things up. “Alright, last question. If you had to describe this season in one word, what would it be?”

Lando thought for a second, then smirked. “Chaotic.”

Y/N groaned. “Please don’t say—”

“Because of you,” Lando finished, grinning as he dodged the pillow she threw at him.

She sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Fine. Then my word is entertaining, because watching Lando suffer through PR answers all season has been hilarious.”

Lando turned to the camera, deadpan. “She’s so lucky I love her.”

The crew laughed as Y/N leaned into him, stealing a quick peck on his cheek. “And you’re so lucky I put up with you.”

He smiled, lacing their fingers together. “Best kind of luck, isn’t it?”

And just like that, the season wrapped.

not so sure about this one, but then again when am i ever sure about anything! <3 also i am accepting requests, so feel free to send your prompts or ideas with any of the drivers xoxo

[22ayla21]

Vegetable Trickery

Women are cunning creatures; they'll even make lions eat vegetables.

As it turned out, raising two little lion cubs was not for the faint of heart. Especially considering they took after their father not only in appearance but also in culinary preferences.

Leona had always been a meat lover. If it were possible, he would eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Vegetables? Who needed them anyway? This was his firm stance since childhood. And, of course, his children inherited the same passion for meat and an absolutely sincere aversion to anything that even remotely resembled greens.

Their mother, however, held a different opinion. She was a reasonable woman and understood perfectly that children needed a balanced diet for normal growth and development. But how do you explain this to two little stubborn lion cubs who clearly took their dad’s disregard for vegetables as sacred law?

Useless. Absolutely useless.

Every attempt to serve anything other than meat turned into a mini-drama. The twins frowned, suspiciously examined their plates, and literally sniffed to make sure there was nothing "dangerous" lurking in their food. And if they found the slightest hint of vegetables, the game was lost. They immediately shouted that the "green stuff" was unnecessary and demanded "normal food."

Leona, meanwhile, sat nearby, arms crossed, smirking smugly.

"You know they're right, don't you?" he'd say mockingly, lazily bringing a piece of roast meat to his lips. "Why do they need those grassy things when we have real food?"

She just rolled her eyes. And that's when a cunning plan was born in her head.

First, she started small.

Finely chopped onions and garlic in the meatballs—too small for anyone to notice. Then—cauliflower puree, cleverly mixed with mashed potatoes. A spoonful of carrot juice in the broth, a little more vegetables in the sauce.

And, lo and behold! They ate. They ate and didn't notice the trick.

She began to master new ways of secretly delivering vitamins into her cubs' bodies.

Meatballs? Add finely grated zucchini to the minced meat.

Sauce for the meat? Blend tomatoes, bell peppers, and eggplant.

Pancakes? Let the batter include pumpkin puree.

Meat pies? What if the filling is half mushrooms and spinach?

They ate everything. And praised it!

Leona too.

At first, she worried he'd notice. After all, he was an adult man, and with an excellent sense of smell. But he ate, suspecting nothing. And when he once praised the "especially juicy" meatballs that contained grated zucchini, she had to exert all her effort not to burst out laughing right at the table.

"See, Mom?" her son proudly declared, chewing a piece of meat. "Dad also knows that normal food is only meat!"

"Of course, dear," she smiled gently, trying not to give herself away.

Leona nodded approvingly and reached for another serving.

Weeks went by, and her trickery remained undiscovered. The children were happy, their health was fine, and even the king of the family himself ate vegetables, unaware of it.

But one day, everything almost fell apart.

That evening, dinner was especially delicious—stewed meat in a thick sauce with fragrant spices. Everyone ate with gusto until her son suddenly frowned and started digging in his plate.

"Mom, what's this?" he suspiciously poked his fork at something green, peeking out from under a piece of meat. Her daughter froze, squinting.

"Looks like... a vegetable!"

Silence fell.

The little lions looked from their plates to their mother. Leona, who was finishing his piece of meat, paused, watching the situation with interest.

"Come on, Mom," he drawled with a sly grin. "You don't mean to tell us you've been slipping us vegetables all this time?"

She felt a chill run down her spine. But she couldn't show her nervousness. She smiled her most composed smile and calmly replied:

"Of course not, dears. It's just greens for flavor."

Her son narrowed his eyes suspiciously but, finding no convincing evidence of the crime, shrugged and went back to eating. Her daughter also nodded, accepting the explanation.

Leona, however, looked at her with a squint.

"You're more cunning than you seem," he drawled, shaking his head. "Should have guessed earlier."

She put on an innocent face.

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair again.

"Alright. Since you're so cunning that you managed to fool even me, then..." he took another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth, chewing with pleasure, "...maybe it's not so bad after all."

She had won. The lions in her family ate vegetables. They just didn't know it.

[miraculousmagicalgirlsau]

Alya:

Tea, aka: any plant she can infuse with water to absorb their properties. has a history of concocting potions for different circumstances. But ultimately (almost guiltily) would prefer soda to plain water.

After washing puts curl cream in her hair, sections off, and brushes out. brushes hair from the roots down to save time, flat top as a result. finger curls to the best of her ability. loves organic soaps with tiny flowers inside. only changes nail color for special occasions, otherwise black all the way. keeps the makeup gothic but expressive given the time frame.

Started earning a small allowance at age 10, dependent on good behavior and school performance. bought a magical artifact in an online auction at age 12, and was really disappointed when nothing happened after having it in the house for 6 months. She was unwilling to throw it away with the rest of her belongings, so now it sits in storage.

Has 4 or 5 ideas for eventual tattoos, was comfortable with the idea from an early age due to her older sister having them. Parents have forbidden them until she turns 18, but she's pretty sure she can convince Nora to take her to get one for her 16th birthday.

Hardest to make cry. The last time was at the start of the summer, and a year before then.

Middle child. parent's often wondered if her odd ball nature is a result of middle child syndrome, but considering she was the youngest for the longest time, and Nora was almost a fully grown adult by the time the twins came around, there was very little time that she was the middle child in the house itself. The theory is flimsy at best.

Loves boots! A classic in alternative fashion. That and converse or converse lookalikes, doesn't matter the brand as long as they look good. owns common sense running shoes, house slippers, and saddles, all darkly colored, of course.

When the family first moved in, Alya being the youngest got the big room while Nora got the smaller one. Then when Nora moved out and the twins came along, Alya moved to Nora's old room, which she of course made her own. But during this last summer, after throwing away all of her wall decorations, dried herbs, and protective sigil's, Alya started to avoid her room all together. Only really going there to sleep and even then, it felt like sleeping in someone else's space. Unguarded and empty.

Halloween! While in France the celebration of the holiday is near nonexistent, corresponding with La Toussaint (All Saints Day) where family's will maybe visit the graves of their loved ones and mostly spend their time together, Alya will follow those traditions diligently (because family is important to her) while also going all out for the more Americanized version of the holiday. It's strange, because in most situations Alya is considered on the more mature end of the spectrum compared to her classmates. So it's surprising when she insists her little sisters continue to dress up and eat candy with her, or when she tries to organize costume parties for her friends at school.

She use to carry all kinds of magical items for her day to day life. Crystal's, card decks, sticky notes for sigil making, salt, rosemary, and a variety of colored strings. All those things went the way of the bin if they weren't already confiscated at her school. There are only a few items she kept including her favorite novelty pen from her favorite magical girl anime and a scrunchie she borrowed from her sister.

Marinette:

Coffee. She will generally try to avoid energy drinks or soda, but she needs her coffee. She's fully aware of the humanitarian crisis surrounding the harvesting of coffee beans, and she has a plan to install a more sustainable solution that reduces the harmful practices of the coffee industry, to be implemented within the next 10 years. But in the meantime, she reluctantly must have the coffee. She. Must. Have. The. Coffee.

Wake's up at 5 in the morning on a Monday to plan the schedule for next Monday. Then it's a workout, shower, clothes, hair, makeup, breakfast, teeth brushed and out the door by 8. Her soaps are all fruit scented, probably corresponding to the new season of fashion inspiration she has for her brand.(She likes to keep her environment integrated for creative flow) although she of course, makes sure her products are beneficial to her overall health, skin and hair type. No products made from animal testing, environmentally harmful chemicals or containers, must be approved by the ANSM (otherwise how can it be trusted), can't be from a company whose dubious in other industries or sponsors harmful people (same as giving money to those people) or publicly supports harmful legislation (because even if they don't directly support the legislation, their word is powerful given how much money they rake in from their products) And so she exclusively buys from a small French/Korean owned bath company that specializes in Asian hair and skin types located in Nantes. They actually almost went out of business a few years ago before a preteen in Paris started buying from them in bulk.

Owns an upstart fashion brand. Every season that passes in Paris, those in the know wait in anticipation for the newest line of eco friendly, bold and fabulous threads from up and coming designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Most of her profits go towards the business, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have plenty left over to be largely financially independent.

Tattoos were generally discouraged in Marinette household, mostly from Sabine though neither her nor Tom had strong feelings about the subject. Every once in a while, when her grandmother would come over, she would show off her own tats as well as some scars accumulated from her many adventures, but Marinette's plans for the future wouldn't really benefit from her getting one, so for now the answer is no.

Is the second most likely out of the three main girls to get teary eyed, and is by far the most sentimental out of the three. She loves her friends and family fiercely, and when they show her how much she means to them, she is bursting with tears and smiles. Same when viewing emotional moments from others or in the movies, she responds appropriately when it's appropriate. Unlike others in her friend group, she can control herself if the situation isn't great. but as soon as the opportunity arrives, here comes the water works.

Only child. When Sabine and Tom first got married, they knew they wanted children, along with a the opportunity to own their own bakery. After Marinette came along, and they settled into their current location, they reached the conclusion that the space they had now was optimal, and the money that flowed in because of the location, would go better towards raising a single child rather then trying to make the space work for a second. They put everything into making sure Marinette had the best of everything they could provide, and everyday she puts in the effort to make sure the both of them are proud of her.

She loves to wear the shoes that would look best with her outfit of the season, usually by thrift shopping. Although she has design ideas for shoes, even some proof of concepts made, she hasn't found the right material for mass manufacturing like she has with her clothes line. Plus there's the issue of durability in the build, and the labor to makeing shoes is completely different from clothes, Long story short: More research is needed.

On the top floor of her parents bakery, right above their shared living space, is Mariette's spacious bedroom. Well technically, her bedroom takes up a small corner of her fashion studio, with a clean and clear desk, filing cabinets taking up one wall, an inspiration board taking up another, separate wardrobes for storage, manikins aligning the walls, it's more of an office space then a bedroom. Although when it comes to her actual loft, Marinette keeps a more personal touch with pictures of friends and stuffed animals on the shelves, she likes to keep her personal space and work space separate.

Christmas. Not the commercialized version that the holiday has come to represent, she actively tries to avoid such trappings during the season, but the theme of community and togetherness that for a few magical days, makes the world a little brighter then it actually is. She makes a list of all the important people in her life and works to make custom gifts for all of them, she then cracks down on her community service work, understanding that this time of year above all others is when people are the most willing to give to each other out of the kindness of their hearts. Now if only she can get people to care just as much during the rest of the year.

Pencil and planner. Never goes anywhere without either. You'll also see her with her sketch book, finding new inspiration for outfits and drawing them out. Her phone has several standards alarms set up as well as 5 or 6 custom ones depending on the day of the week or month, so pretty essential for that to be on her person. She actually carries a hand bag everywhere she goes that houses all these items. It's pretty much expected that if you need a pencil, or pen or anything else in class, stick of deodorant, pain killers, delicate lady products, flash cards, screwdriver, oil can, go ask Marinette. She has it in her bag.

Chloe:

Spring water, no tap. She will know if it's tap. And it can't be any of that cheap brand bottle water either. That's basically just tap. Prefers Hildon but in a pinch will settle for Evian. Also orders the most complicated coffee drinks that usually end up being decaf. she'll know if they get her order wrong and will make them redo it for as long as it takes. There's another drink she secretly likes but that's a secret.

Has a highly complicated hair routine, and if she had her way she would go to the salon to have it done every morning before school. Reluctantly does it herself most mornings, usually makes her late for school. Luckily makeup is second nature to her. 10 minutes and she has perfectly lined eyeliner, thick lashes, blended contour, and glossy lips.

Her Daddy gives her a small budget every month to keep the lights on. It's more then most kids including her friends would make in 10 years. She usually blows through it to enrich herself in the quality of life to which she has become accustomed. By the end of the month, she's bumming meals from her friends and sleeping over at their houses until the next paycheck.

Ewwwwwwww! GROSS! A Tattoo!? On her flawless skin? Never! And as for scars? Not on your life. Not any that she'd willing show in public anyway.

Chloe will cry if her mascara is more heavy on one side then the other. Chloe will cry if she scraps her clothes slightly on the way to class. She's not overly sentimental like some of her friends, but the slightest inconvenience could potentially leave her spiraling. So naturally, she's crying every three hours. And then there are the really bad moments that occur when she's alone. She hates being alone. No obvious triggers. It could have been a perfect day in her pampered life, but the result is still the same: Chloe alone in her room, crying herself to sleep.

Eldest of them all. She's as rich in siblings, both blood related and not, as she is in money. More then once she's offered to give Marinette one of her sisters as a form of charity, since the former is always so curious about the idea of siblings. She'll easily offer to take one or both of Alya's little sisters in exchange for the little brother figure she's forced to tolerate on a regular basis. On the other hand, if she had a choice she'd easily take her coven of sisters over her actual family any day.

It's surprising to know that up until recently, Chloe's shoes valued functionality over form in most cases. Being a former dancer, the importance of structure and support was paramount to her everyday foot wear. That's not to say she wasn't a snob when it came to brand and style, both then and now, only now she compulsively buys the most expensive designer shoes on the market regardless of support. She wears them once or twice and forgets about them.

Depending on her mood, she sleeps in her Daddy's empty apartment, or forgoing that, couch surfs with friends or relatives. Marinette has a sofa that Chloe bought for her office just so she can have a place to sleep when she comes over.

Any holiday where she doesn't have to go to school is her favorite holiday. She's content to follow Alya or Marinette in whatever celebrations they're doing just so long as she can comment and complain about it.

She's always seen wearing gloves. When Alya finally asked about it she told her: "Paris is a fabulous city, but the lower areas are absolutely filthy! If the people want to be blessed with my presence, they better get use to my wearing protection." She also carries a small pocket knife with her wherever she goes, or tries to anyway.

So my problem with most ‘get to know your character’ questioneers is that they’re full of questions that just aren’t that important (what color eyes do they have) too hard to answer right away (what is their greatest fear) or are just impossible to answer (what is their favorite movie.)  Like no one has one single favorite movie. And even if they do the answer changes.

If I’m doing this exercise, I want 7-10 questions to get the character feeling real in my head. So I thought I’d share the ones that get me (and my students) good results: 

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) 

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) 

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

[invincibledc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝑯𝑶𝑲𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑲𝑼𝑺.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

────୨ৎ────

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

── .✦ Synopsis: son of joker and Harley, Jacklyn “Jack” Quinn, has a crush on a simple bat. But the bat is tired of his hocus pocus.

── .✦ Genre: idk but I thought of this, could just be short story or whatever.

── .✦ Info: this is an OC I thought of cause I got bored. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome. Yea the title is inspired by ICP. I love ICP.

Laughter rang out across the abandoned warehouse. A teenaged boy with gun pointed it to a hostage, the hostage sobbed. Getting ready to aim, a batarang hits the gun from his. “Ouch! WHO in the god blazing mind had the audacity to…”

The boy turned to see a girl in her robin outfit of her own design, the suit fitted her well. The boy couldn’t help but smile, seeing her again just made him feel giddy.

“Suga'! I see you foiled my plans again to get my father’s approval. What can I help you with darlin'?” The boy says walking forward to the girl before another batarang harshly impales the ground infront of his feet.

“Jack Quinn. You have no business trying to bring me out here.”

Jack pouts hearing the girl’s voice. “But puddin'” “I’m not pudding. I’m robin.” Jack rolls his eyes at the girl’s words before aiming the gun at her and firing it.

Y/n leaps from the shot as the shot was just a flare. “Okay, so you were right. I did bring you out here. But I can’t help but adore how you are with me!” With a crazed look, he rushed after the girl who gracefully hopped ledge for Ledge. Whilst the two mid teenagers were doing their things, the male robin, Damian appeared and started to untie the hostage.

“Why must we attract villains so much.” Damian scoffs lowly so the person wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t expecting to clean up his twin sister’s mess of attracting boys. But this was another case.

Back to y/n and the boy joker.

“Oh! Birdy, you’re so cute when you run!” He chased after the girl. The girl scoffs as she turned a sharp corner, but came to a stop when the clown boy hopped over a bunch of boxes and landed in front of her.

“You could give thanks to my mama, did you know ima momma’s boy.” He pulls three sharp cards out, one held an ace, a diamond, and a king.

“But suga' im just a king of all above a momma’s boy.” Jack said with a sickly sweet tone. He threw the king card at her, the king care glowed. Y/n’s eyes widen realizing and pulled her cape up.

Thanks to Bruce, her cape was made to protect her from anything. Explosive wise. As y/n put her cape down, there she see the clown boy running up to her before doing a cartwheel.

Y/n moved back, dodging a swift roundhouse kick. “What’s up with you!” She exclaimed, bouncing strikes with her hands from Jack. “What’s up with me?!” He exclaimed back before giving her a crooked smile, y/n put her hands up. But jack had other ideas than boxing with the young girl.

He grabbed the girl’s hands. Tugging her close, chest to chest. Y/n tried to pull away, but the boy was oddly strong despite looking thin. Jack started to make the both of them waltz, y/n gritting her teeth, eyes narrowed showing clearly of her domino mask.

“Don’t be such a sour puss.” Jack says rolling his eyes as he turned y/n around. “I got a joke to sweeten you up!”

“Say, Why don’t people like working with vampire bats? Because they’re a pain in the neck.”

Silence reeked into the air, jack frowns, “Aw cmon not even a giggle?” He was soon hit with a knee to his gut. Y/n moved back, not before sweeping him onto the ground. Landing with a grunt, jack opened his eyes just for him to be picked up by his collar.

He couldn’t help but stare at y/n’s face, “did anyone ever tell you, you look stunning in red?”

“Shut up, jack. I’m taking you in, and then we’ll take your parents in.” Y/n says, ready to zip tie his hands. Jack was oddly calm as he puts his hands out.

“Be gentle, I can’t risk my wrists being bruised.”

“Whatever.” Y/n goes into her belt of her suit, looking down. As she looked up, expect of the boy, there stood a rose with a note.

Y/n scrunched her nose up, grabbing the rose and damned note only for it to read.

“Next time, show up alone. Your brother is suck a cock blocker!” Y/n crumpled up the piece of paper. A little fluster but mostly angry that the boy had gotten away. She didn’t expect for him to also realize she brought Damian along.

And said boy came by her, crossed arms and disappoint written on his face. “You really are like father. Always attracting villains to your whim.”

“Shut up. Let’s just go home…” y/n says, throwing the piece of paper behind her back. She hid the rose behind her back. Not letting Damian see it as he raises a brow.

“Keep your crazed boyfriend in control.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

A/N: I REALLY HOPE THIS WASNT BAD! I TRIED TO GIVE HIM A FULL MIXTURE OF JOKER’S AND HARLEY’S PERSONALITY😭😭

[lazysoulwriter]

baby fever - pedro pascal.

---

Pedro doesn’t expect much when he knocks on your brother’s door that night—just a quiet evening, maybe a movie with you, stealing kisses while your niece dozes off. He doesn’t think twice when he lets himself in, greeting your brother���s dog, making his way down the hall.

But then he hears it.

A tiny, giggly voice belting out something off-key, followed by yours—so much sweeter, effortlessly in tune.

Pedro’s brows lift. Curious, he peeks into the living room, and the sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You and your niece, standing on the couch like it’s a concert stage. She’s gripping a cheap, plastic microphone with a little speaker attached, absolutely screaming some kids’ song while you crouch beside her, harmonizing with exaggerated emotion. When the song reaches its big, dramatic note, she throws an arm around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

Pedro’s heart aches.

Not the bad kind of ache, no. The full, overwhelming, what-the-hell-is-this kind.

You laugh into her hug, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek before pulling back just enough to dramatically whisper into the mic, “One more song, superstar?”

“YES!” she shrieks.

Pedro huffs a quiet, stunned laugh, leaning against the doorframe. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything cuter in his life.

And he’s seen you every day.

You’re so good with kids. It’s not just your niece—kids have always adored you, gravitating toward you like you’ve got some secret superpower. Maybe you do. Maybe it’s the way you actually listen to them, how you talk to them like they’re people instead of tiny, sticky creatures.

And they love you for it.

Including this one, who is now aggressively trying to hand you a plastic tambourine.

“Sing, sing, sing!” she chants.

You take the tambourine with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know, I’m getting so tired…”

“Nooo, you have to!” she whines, tugging at your arm. “One more song, pleeease!”

Pedro watches as you pretend to consider it, tapping your chin.

Then you grin. “Alright, one more. But only if we dedicate it to Uncle Pedro.”

At the mention of his name, he startles slightly, his heart already pounding from just watching you.

Your niece gasps, delighted. “He’s here?!”

Pedro barely has time to brace himself before she spots him and launches off the couch. He catches her just in time, huffing out a laugh as she clings to him.

“You came!” she cheers, like he’s a celebrity she wasn’t expecting at her show.

“Wouldn’t miss it, superstar,” he teases, ruffling her hair. Then his eyes flick to you, still sitting on the couch, looking at him with that knowing little smirk.

Oh, you know what you’re doing to him.

He clears his throat, trying to play it cool. “Heard there’s a concert going on?”

Your niece gasps. “YES! And we’re gonna do one more song just for you.”

Pedro grins, setting her down. “An honor.”

She scrambles back onto the couch, immediately picking the loudest song possible. You pat the space beside you, inviting him to sit.

He does. And then he spends the next three minutes watching his entire life flash before his eyes.

Because shit, it’s not just you and a kid singing a dumb song. It’s you, loving this tiny person, making her feel important. It’s her looking at you like you hung the moon.

And Pedro feels something shift inside him. Something that shouldn’t.

Because you’ve already talked about this.

No kids. Not ever.

It was one of the first big conversations you had in your relationship. He brought it up early, just in case, because he didn’t want to get attached if your futures weren’t aligned.

You were clear: you loved kids, adored them. You just didn’t want your own.

And that was fine.

Is fine.

Except right now, Pedro’s heart is doing something stupid, something dangerous, something that makes him feel like maybe he wants things he shouldn’t.

He swallows hard.

You notice.

You always do.

After the song ends, your niece finally starts to wind down, yawning as she curls into your side. Pedro watches as you brush her hair back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Sleepy?” you murmur.

She nods dramatically. “But I wanna sleep with you.”

Pedro laughs, leaning in. “What, am I chopped liver?”

She giggles but doesn’t let go of you, tucking her face into your neck.

You meet Pedro’s gaze over her head, and—shit.

You know.

Of course, you do.

You hold his stare, a soft little smile playing on your lips. Then you whisper, “Help me put her to bed?”

He nods wordlessly.

Together, you tuck her in, smoothing her blankets, whispering goodnight. And when you step back into the hallway, closing her door behind you, Pedro finally lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

The silence lingers for a beat before you cock your head at him. “So.”

He exhales. “So.”

You cross your arms, looking way too pleased with yourself. “That was a lot of heart eyes back there, Pascal.”

He groans, rubbing his face. “Don’t.”

“I saw you,” you tease, stepping closer. “All soft and melty.”

“I was not melty.”

“Oh, you were. Don’t even try to deny it.” You press a finger to his chest, grinning. “You were sitting there, watching your entire life flash before your eyes.”

Pedro lets out a defeated laugh, tipping his head back against the wall. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He sighs, tilting his head to look at you. “Yeah, I do.”

Your teasing expression softens. “I know.”

He tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m not about to change the plan on you.”

“I know that, too,” you say, squeezing him back.

And the thing is, he won’t.

Because he meant it when he said he was fine with your decision. He still is.

It’s just…

“Just what?” you ask softly, reading his mind again.

Pedro chuckles against your temple. “It’s just really fucking beautiful to watch you like that.”

You hum, pleased. “Well, lucky for you, I have an adorable niece who thinks you’re the coolest guy ever.”

“And what about her aunt?”

“She thinks you’re alright.”

Pedro laughs, pulling back to kiss you. “Good enough for me.”

----

[smutoperator]

Dress Code

Nicha Yontararak (Minnie) x Male Reader

Tags: (lots of) anal, ass-licking, car sex, daddy kink, degradation, domination, facefucking, facial, gape, man on top, public sex, punishment, rimming, (very) rough sex, shit-talking, skimpy outfit

Word count: 4536

You were working as a security guard at a party, checking the guests invitation tickets; everything seemed to be going smoothly until you saw a girl wearing an outfit so small it barely covered her buttcheeks.

"May I check your ticket?" you asked the girl. "Sure," she answered. "Minnie, nice name, you tell her. "It seems fine, but I can't let you in," you then continue. "Why?" she asks.

"You are not fitting the party's dress code," you tell Minnie. "Dress code?" she asks, very confused. "Yes, dress code. You are not going to get inside with an outrageous outfit like this," you tell her.

"What? That's so unfair," Minnie tells you, very upset. "I'm sorry, but a code is a code, and it must be obeyed," you answer her. "Nobody told me anything about a dress code," she says to you.

"Look at the way you're dressed; I can see your whole ass and your bare legs. You're the only person with that outfit that came to the party," you tell Minnie. "Well, that's just my regular outfit; I was performing with it just a while ago," she answers you.

"Sorry, but a no is a no," you tell her. "What can I do to get in?" Minnie asks," "Get a new outfit," you answer. "What if I don't want to?" she asks. "Then you won't be allowed," you continue.

But Minnie had one last trick up her sleeve.

"Would you let me in if I sucked your cock?" Minnie asks you," "Whoa, girl, slow down," you say to her. "But let me think about your offer for a bit," you continue.

You call another security guard. "I need to handle this situation; can you cover for me?" you ask him. As he covers your spot, you take Minnie outside the building towards a distant spot in the parking lot, carrying her on your shoulder.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Minnie asks," "Well, you said you wanted to suck my cock, but I need to find a better place for it. "How about you handle me a VIP ticket after not only do I suck your cock but also let you fuck my holes?" Minnie asks you, briefly pulling the small outfit she's wearing at the bottom and showing you her pussy and ass before putting it back on.

Her boldness has impressed you as you feel you truly need to tame this Thai slut. You bring Minnie towards the car from your security company. You start touching her, reaching under her outfit to finger her pussy. "Whoa, baby, slow down," Minnie says. "I'm not slowing down; you asked for it," you tell her.

You bend Minnie against the car, unbuttoning her blouse just enough to unveil her perky tits as you start sucking them. "Oh yes," Minnie moans as your mouth runs all over her boobs, the cold weather of the night also giving her shivers. You quickly take the bottom of her outfit, eating her pussy out. "I'm taking this as a trophy tonight," you tell her.

Minnie spreads her legs as you eat her pussy on the hood of the car. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she moans as your tongue runs all over her cunt. "Fucking beautiful, so meaty," you tell her. Minnie moans really loudly, making you glad that you went to a more distant spot. "Push it deep, push it deep," she begs for you as you eat her out, now moving towards her asshole.

"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH SHIT," Minnis moans as she moves her hips to meet your moves. "Does it taste good? Oh fuck, AHHhh," she asks you, but you don't answer, kissing her one more time to give her a taste of her holes.

"Please, baby, I want to see how it tastes," Minnie says as she's hungrier than ever for your cock. "Then bend over again, you fucking slut," answer her as you dive your face between her asscheeks. "Ohhh baby, your tongue is so good in my ass," she tells you. "Oh fuck, ahhhh, hmmmmm," she then moans as you put a pair of fingers in her pussy. "Do you like how it gapes for you?" she tells you as she spreads it up to her rosebud for you to lick.

"OHHH SHIT," Minnie moans as you speed up the intensity of your rimming. "AH, AH, AH, AH," she lets out small moans. "You want to suck my cock, you fucking bitch?" you ask her. "Yes, please," she answers. "Then do it like this," you tell her.

You carry Minnie up one more time, putting her face upside down perfectly lined up to your crotch as you unzipe your pants. "Yeah, yeah," she celebrates, pulling your underwear down despite being upside down and taking your huge cock straight into her mouth. "Oh fuck, oh yeah," you groan as you and Minnie perform an upside-down 69, her choking on your cock, bobbing her head on it hard using no hands while you eat her cunt.

"You really know how to suck cock," you tell her as things get very acrobatic, your mouth running all over her cunt while hers runs all over your cock. You put Minnie back on her feet. "On your knees, slut," you tell her. Minnie sniffs your shaft before she starts licking it and taking it deep in her throat, very hungry for that monster meat.

"You're so beautiful, ahhhh," you tell Minnie as you groan with the work she gives your shaft, taking special attention to your balls. "Nasty little girl, I'm gonna give you more," you tell her. "More?" she asks. "Yes, more," you answer.

You grab Minnie's hair and start fucking her face hard. "Take it, slut," you tell her as Minnie gags all over your cock, you filling her mouth to the fullest. You shove her face against your balls and slap her ass, slowly but surely getting rougher. "Yes, that's what I like to see, you fucking slut," you approve of her.

"You look so beautiful all over my balls," you tell Minnie. "I need more," she tells you. "I knew you wanted more; the moment I saw you dressed like that, I knew the only thing you were worth was to please my big fucking cock," you tell her. "Keep sucking that dick, you nasty slut," you tell her, giving her an even rougher facefuck this time, making Minnie gag hard as you spank her ass.

Minnie chokes on your cock, losing her breath. "Who told you to stop, bitch?" you ask her, punishing her with another rough pounding, holding your monster cock down her throat. "Your punishment is just beginning," you tell her as Minnie's face starts to turn red and she gets cock drunk.

"Does it feel good when I suck your cock?" Minnie asks you," "You really like that cock, don't you?" you tell her, spanking her ass. "Yes, baby, I love it," she tells you.

"Then come here," you tell Minnie as you lift her up and shove your cock down her cunt, carry-fucking her. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH," she moans as you spread her cheeks and attack her pussy. "OHHHH SHIT," she screams as you put her back on the ground.

You pin Minnie against the car's hood, spreading her legs as you thrust into her pussy. "Ahhh, ahhhh, fuck me," she moans, out of breath as you attack her cunt at full speed. "Give it to me, oh fuck me, harder, harder," she begs as you start spanking her face.

"You wanted that pussy so bad, didn't you?" Minnie asks you as her body shakes against the car. "Fuck, you're such a tight bitch," you tell her, letting her get on her knees to taste her cunt from your cock. Minnie sucks it like a maniac. "You're so nasty," you tell her, fucking her face one more time as you tie her arms behind her back.

"I'm gonna use you like the fucking whore you are," you tell Minnie, fucking her face as you also bang her head against the front of the car. The more you fuck her, the crazy she drives you, her face getting plowed like a fleshlight. "Useless bitch, this is how I'm gonna punish you youfor violating the dress code," you tell her.

You slam Minnie into the hood of the car, taking her pussy in a missionary position next. "Oh shit," Minnie moans. "Oh yes, pinch my pussy," she tells you as she also spreads her ass for you. "Oh my god, you're so fucking big," she tells you.

"You like that big fucking cock, don't you?" you ask Minnie. "Yes, baby, make me taste it," she answers. You flip her around in the hood of the car, popping your cock in and out of her face to tease her. "If you want it, you'll have to clean my ass first," you tell her.

You sit your ass on Minnie's doll face as she reaches to lick your dirty butthole. "Good girl, that's what I want; clean that dirty fucking ass," you tell her while Minnie rims it.

"Get back down and bend over again," you tell Minnie. "Are you gonna give it to me? Are you gonna fucking give it to me?" she begs. "Of course," you answer her. "Oh, please, baby," she continues to beg.

Minnie gets pinned hard against the hood of the car. "Oh shit," she moans. "Don't regret it now; you asked for it," you tell her as you attack her pussy from behind like crazy. "YES, YES, YES, AHHH, AHHH, OH SHIT," she screams as you plow her like a raging bull. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT, FUCKKK," she keeps screaming, you grabbing her hair and stretching her mouth, treating her like nothing but a useless fuck toy.

"OH FUCK ME, OH FUCK ME, OH FUCK ME," Minnie continues to scream. "Get down, you nasty bitch," you tell her as you slam her head against the hood of the car. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," Minnie can't stop screaming, her pussy burning hard as your cock shows no mercy for it, her body getting completely pinned against the car. "You're so fucking beautiful being a submissive slut like that," you tell her, picking up the pace even further. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT" is all Minnie can say, your thrusts flying much faster than her thinking speed.

You penetrate Minnie balls deep, her moaning and groaning as you totally dominate her. "YES, YES, YES, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, AH, AH, AH," she screams. "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD," she continues to beg, experiencing an animalistic fuck like never before, barking like a dog in heat. "Shut up, cunt," you tell her. "Now you understand why you should have respected the dress code," you continue.

"Yes, baby, I understand, FUCKKKK," Minnie says, barely able to finish her sentence as your cock keeps shaping the walls of her needy cunt. "AH, AH, AH, AH, AH," she continues to scream, her body completely smashed against the hood of the car. "You thought your actions weren't gonna have any consequences, you fucking slut, but now you've learned the lesson," you told her.

"Oh my God," Minnie begs as you pull out of her pussy and lick both her fuckhole like an animal, spanking the ass she showed you at the front door. "Don't move; this was just the first round," you tell her. "What are you gonna do to me next?" she asks.

"I'm gonna fuck this ass, of course," you tell her. "Yes, baby, fuck my little shithole," Minnie tells you as you soon tongue her backdoor. "Oh, I love a nasty girl that calls her ass a shithole, just like it should be," you tell her.

"Get my shithole nice and wet, spit all over that fucking dirty hole, yeahh." Minnie says it again as you sweep your tongue all over it. "Tongue fuck my ass, baby," she begs as you go mad crazy over it, getting very noisy.

"You like that pretty ass?" Minnie asks you as the tonguing continues, and you put a pair of fingers up her anus too. "OH MY GOOD," she moans. "Open your ass for me," you tell her as she spreads her cheeks. "Of course, baby, I'll open it all for you," she answers.

You penetrate Minnie's ass with violence, sticking your full length in one go inside it. "HOLY SHIT, IT'S SO BIG," she screams. "You like that cock all the way up your nasty ass, don't you?" you ask her. "Yes, I do," she answers.

"OH YEAH, YEAH, AHHHH, SHITT," Minnie screams as your cock seems too big for her ass. "Slow down, baby, your cock is so huge," she tells you. "Spread that beautiful ass," you tell her as you attack it balls deep. "OH FUCK, YEAH, YEAH," she screams.

"I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE; JUST FUCK MY ASS, OH MY GOD," Minnie screams hard as you open a massive crater in her asshole. "PLEASE, TAKE IT SLOW," she continues to beg, but you ignore her pleading, Minnie spreading her ass even further to deal with the heat you deliver in it.

"Look at this beautiful gape," you tell Minnie as you pull out a bit before going back and mounting on top of her even harder. "LIKE THAT, LIKE THAT, OH MY FUCKING GOD, OH SHIT," Minnie screams as you only make her gape go harder, your cock making her scream nonstop as you make her ass get sore. "You like getting fucked in the ass like that, you fucking slut?" you ask her. "YES, BABY," she screams.

"Taste it, baby, taste it," you tell Minnie as you stop fucking her ass a bit and shove your dirty cock down her nasty mouth. "You like to taste your ass, you nasty bitch?" you ask her, slapping your cock in her face before going back inside. "AH, AH, AH, FUCK ME, FUCK MY ASS, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD, OH FUCK," she screams nonstop. "Yes Minnie, that's how you punish a fucking slut," you tell her, spanking her face as you deeply penetrate her in the butt.

"Beg for it; tell me what you want me to do to you," you tell Minnie. "I WANT YOU TO FUCKING FUCK MY ASS," she screams. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do, fucking slut," you tell her, getting even rougher up her butthole. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD," Minnie pleads in vain as her asshole turns into your personal playground.

You shove your cock in Minnie's face after a good anal round. "Open your eyes," you tell her as you fuck her face against the hood of the car, turning it into a mess. "Please, baby, fuck my ass a little more," she begs you as soon as you pull your cock out of her mouth.

You flip Minnie around, putting her on top of the hood of the car and inserting your cock back in her butt. "Yes, baby, fuck that dirty shithole," she tells you. "Hmm, dirty shithole, how about we turn that cunt into a shitpussy?" you tell her, switching to her pussy. "Yes baby, that's what I fucking want, Daddy, get all that dirty ass in my fucking pussy, AHHHH," she begs as you destroy her cunt.

You choke Minnie. "You're so nasty, you make my dick so hard," you tell her, sucking her tits. "I want more, please," she begs as you turn her around and shove it back in her ass. "YES, SHOVE IT IN THERE AND FUCK IT, FUCK IT, FUCK IT," she commands. "Open that ass for me," you tell her.

"It feels so good when you fuck my prolapsed ass, OH MY GOD, HOLY FUCK," Minnie screams as you keep giving her the anal pounding she deserves. "Look how much you stretched out, daddy," Minnie says as she shoves her fist inside her butthole. "That's what I want to see—shove that hand inside that shithole," you tell her.

You eat Minnie's pussy as she shoves her arm deeper in her anus, before letting you suck it. "Fuck me hard, Daddy, make your cock dirty," Minnie begs as you destroy her ass. "Choke me, daddy, I want more," she begs as you start spitting in her face, Minnie losing her sight as you can't seem to stop degrading her.

"FUCK YES, DADDY, GIVE IT ALL TO ME," Minnie keeps begging as the anal session continues. "Which one is better, Daddy, my ass or my pussy?" Minnie asks as she kisses you. "Both," you tell her.

"I love how nasty you are to me, daddy," Minnie says as you keep spreading her ass out and pinching her pussy from behind. "Shove that dirty ass in my fucking pussy," she begs as you switch from one hole to another.

"Let's get inside the car," you tell Minnie, closing the door and slapping your cock in her face as you two get in the backseat. "Nasty cock-drunk slut," you tell her, letting Minnie bob her head on your shaft while you spank her ass. "Clean my dick, you dirty slut," you tell her, holding Minnie's nose while she chokes on your dick until she gags, punishing her with a spit on her face for gagging.

Minnie chokes on your cock multiple times, you rewarding her with spanks on her ass multiple times. "Come here, ride that cock," you command to Minnie, who impales her ass on your cock and starts bouncing. "You're so sexy riding it," you tell her as you two share kisses. "Look at that ass working on my big cock," you tell her as Minnie squats on your cock. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, YEAH," she screams.

"GIVE ME MORE, GIVE ME MORE, RIGHT IN MY ASSHOLE," Minnie begs as you pound her ass from down low, her whole makeup completely ruined at this point as you destroy her asshole balls deep. "I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, FUCK, OH YES," she screams as she tries to bounce on your cock.

"Wanna see how stretched out my asshole is, Daddy?" Minnie asks you as you let her spread her legs in the backseat. "Look what you did to me, Minnie says as she opens up her asshole with both hands. "I'm not done yet, you fucking slut," you tell her, sitting on Minnie's face and ordering her to clean your ass.

"AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, OH MY GOD," Minnie moans as you massage her pussy, her moans getting muffled as the rims your asshole. You put her in a pile driver on the seat, fucking her without even looking in her face, Minnine fingering your butthole from behind while hers gets destroyed. "OH FUCK, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP INSIDE ME," she screams, you destroying her pussy and asshole like they are nothing.

"Feed me, please," Minnie begs as you stick your dirty cock back in her mouth, spitting in her throat every time you pull her out. "You love the taste of my dirty ass," you tell her, fucking her face a couple more times.

"Fuck my ass some more, please; open my ass, just like that," Minnie begs as you go back in her butt, pinning her against the backseat. "SUCH A BIG FUCKING DICK, I LIKE THAT FUCKING DICK SO MUCH, OH MY GOD," Minnie screams.

You alternate between Minnie's slutty face and her prolapsed asshole, looking at her pitiful ruined face. "Do you like to be nasty for Daddy? You know Daddy likes nasty girls," you ask her as Minnie nods positively.

"Tell me, Minnie, what Daddy likes," you ask her. "Nasty girls like me," she answers in the rare times your cock isn't in her mouth. "AHHH FUCKKK, SHIT," Minnie screams as you get back in her ass. "Take it, baby, take that nasty cock up your dirty ass," you tell her.

Minnie gets pounded hard on an anal mating press as you can't get enough of her ass. "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, OH MY GOD," she screams as you choke her, then feed your cock right in her mouth one more time, shaking it inside it. At this point, Minnie can't even think straight. "You like that cock deep in your throat, whore?" you ask her as you suck Minnie's cute tits, even biting her nipples like a hungry animal. "Oh yeah," she moans as you kiss her.

"Let me lick that dirty stretched-out asshole," you tell Minnie, letting her sit on your face. "Yes, Daddy, lick it like crazy," she asks you as you bury your face in it. "Is that what you want, Daddy, your face all over my ass?" she asks you. "Oh shit, oh shit, ahhhh," Minnie moans as you get her closer to an anal orgasm, her grinding her ass on your face, answering as you tongue her butthole and spank her ass.

Minnie ducks down in the backseat and gives you a boss chair blowjob with her ass up, deepthroating your cock and massaging it like crazy. "Fuck, that's incredible," you tell her, kissing Minnie after she's done. She then sits on your cock, bouncing like crazy. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHHH," she moans like a dog in heat. "OH MY GOD, MY FUCKING ASS," she says as she grinds her hips on your shaft, her butthole already sore after so much fucking.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, DEEP IN MY FUCKING ASS," Minnie begs as she spreads her cheeks while bouncing on your dick. "OH SHIT, OH MY GOD," she screams as you grope her tits. "YOU'RE RIPPING MY FUCKING ASS," she screams, you pumping upwards and making her lose her mind, Minnie getting pounded so hard. "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH SHIT, OH FUCK," she screams as you give her an anal orgasm.

Minnie goes back to deepthroating you, tasting all of her ass in your cock. "Nasty whore, that's what I want to see," you tell her. "My ass is fucking good, isn't it?" she asks you.

"I'm your fucking toy, your fucking little toy," Minnie says. "Then show me," you tell her, getting fully on top of Minnie. "OHHHHHH," she says as you start attacking her pussy, licking her feet while she sucks yours trying to cope with the heat.

"I love this position," you say as your body completely tops Minnie on the backseat. "Me too, I've never been fucked like this before," Minnie says as you rest in her face, fingering her squirting cunt while she rims your asshole and strokes your cock. "OH MY FUCKING GOD," Minnie moans.

"Alright, time to fuck your ass like that too," you tell Minnie. "YES, PLEASE, DEEPER," she begs as you put her ass up and slide your cock while on top of her. "OH MY GOD," Minnie screams as she's completely immobilized by your tall body, your raging meat sliding in and out of her butthole at a blistering speed.

"FUCK, AHHH," Minnie screams as you turn her body into your pillow, pressing her against the backseat. "OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP, FUCK THAT ASS," she begs, barking like a puppy as she can barely see it straight. "DAMN IT, YOU FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD IN MY ASS," she says.

"Let's get back outside," you tell Minnie, opening the car's door and making her hang onto it as you fuck her ass. "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh," Minnie is without energy to even moan, your cock just relentlessly attacking her ass and clapping her cheeks nonstop. "AHHHHHHH," she screams as she gets pounded, barely able to stand on her feet as her ass gets utterly obliterated, you taking your cock balls deep in it.

"OH MY GOD, YOU FUCK MY ASS SO GOOD," Minnie tells you. "I love to fuck that slutty ass," you tell her, Minnie smiling as her hair is all over her face. "AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH," she screams as you take your cock all the way deep in her ass.

"TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT; I LOVE THAT COCK IN MY ASS," Minnie says as she spreads her ass. "YOU POUND ME SO HARD, DADDY," she tells you as you go for another round of ass-fucking. "Such a nasty anal whore," you tell her. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Minnie screams, you spitting in her face as her asshole is completely red after so much pounding. "AHHHH, AHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, I'M SO FUCKING NASTY FOR DADDY," she screams, you grabbing her hair, tears flowing down her eyes as you choke her and show no regard towards Minnie's feelings, just using her like a fucktoy.

"That's what you get for violating the dress code," you tell her, Minnie rolling her eyes as your anal drilling doesn't seem to stop. You tie her arms behind her back, grabbing her head and punishing her like the good slut she is. "YES, YES, YES, FUCKKK, AHHHH," Minnie screams as the pounding keeps going.

"Mercy, please," Minnie asks. You destroyed her so well she can barely walk anymore. "You're fantastic, Minnie," you praise her. "The best whore I've ever fucked," you tell her.

"One more round and I'm done," you tell Minnie, bringing her back to where everything started, bending her against the hood of the car and fucking her ass one last time. "FUCK, FUCK, YES, PLEASE," she begs. "You make me so fucking nasty," she tells you.

"Tell me what you are," you say to Minnie as you spank her ass. "I'M YOUR FUCKING TOY DADDY; I'M YOUR FUCKING TOY," she tells you. "Open your ass," you tell her. "Keep saying it," you tell her, pinning Minnie against the hood of the car. "I'M YOUR LITTLE FUCKING TOY, DADDY, AHHH, AHHHH," she moans, her head smashed on the hood while you pound her ass like an animal. "AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH," she moans.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you groan. "Give it to me, cum all over my face," Minnie begs as she senses you close to cumming. Soon, you ejaculate all over her beautiful face, ruining it even further as you slap your cock all over it afterward. "Take it in your throat, you nasty toy," you say to her, showing your cock one more time down it. Minnie gasps as she gags on your cock, her face turned into an utter mess.

"That was incredible," you tell Minnie, rewarding her with your cock until she gags, shoving your balls down her mouth as her face is now covered in cum and spit. "That's the best cock I've ever taken," she says.

"You can go inside now," you tell Minnie, handing her your jacket and giving the rest of the security the commands to let her through, keeping her panties as a trophy just like you intended to.

As Minnie arrives at the party, she meets her groupmates.

"You're quite late," Miyeon tells her. "I had some issues," Minnie answers before both of them head to the bathroom and Minnie wipes her face full of cum.

"Miyeon, can I ask you for a favor?" Minnie tells her.

"Sure," the older girl answers.

"Can you please give me your panties? I lost mine on the way to the party."

[otnesse]

Yeah, no kidding about that, really ruined his redemption arc, all in an artificial attempt at propping Belle up. Even if they DID have to ensure Beast didn't have much guts to fight them head-on due to sadness at Belle being gone, they could have at least had him just surrender himself to the mob under the strict stipulation that they NOT harm his servants. That would have been the BAREST minimum to show he changed for the better. Heck, why not have Beast, I don't know, fight the mob and Gaston while having images of Belle in his head to imply Belle is his motivation to keep fighting even before her reappearance, like, I don't know, what was implied in the opening to Dawn of Sorrow:

To give a bit of background for this, the white haired guy is named Soma Cruz, the main protagonist of the Sorrow anthology of the Castlevania games, and more importantly is the reincarnation of Count Dracula, the series villain (which is why he was absorbing that demon's soul). The red haired lady is Mina Hakuba, his implied girlfriend, and it's heavily implied in that scene that his memories of her are what's driving him to NOT succumb to becoming Dracula 2.0 despite his origins.

Another example I can use is the climax to Final Fantasy XVI, when Clive Rosfield had to witness his beloved brother Joshua being straight up MURDERED by the main antagonist, Ultima by essentially pulling a chestburster on him as well as being bequeathed with Phoenix right before fighting him, but his Phoenix talisman still survived despite Joshua's death, which was heavily implied to have given Clive the mental fortitude he desperately needed to fight off Ultima. The clip can be seen below (and a fair bit of warning, this definitely shouldn't be viewed with kids nearby. There's a reason why this is the first numbered Final Fantasy game to be rated Mature, and that's not even the ONLY example of brutality in that game):

Any one of those would have been far better templates to use for Beast to at least ATTEMPT to fight for his servants survival and actually SHOW he turned a new leaf (well, within reason, we do have to take into account kids in the audience) than what we actually GOT, which ended up blowing the whole selfless redemption message apart by essentially implying love makes you weak. All because the screenwriter Linda Woolverton had a huge chip on her shoulder against males (something that would return in spades with Maleficent especially).

EDIT: As far as the Triplets are concerned since they got a brief mention, I'd argue that, if anything, they looked even MORE gorgeous than her, looking like they'd actually fit into Dead or Alive better than Belle could, and I'd say this even with her ball gown, the most skin she ever showed. EDIT 2: Really hate how youtube embeds don't stay up when you edit a post.

When people use Elsa not getting a prince at the end of Frozen to hate on all the other Disney princesses who fall in love

A WOMAN CAN BE STRONG WITHOUT A MAN.

A WOMAN CAN BE STRONG WITH A MAN.

LOVE DOES NOT MAKE PEOPLE WEAK.

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

🌵👽The Juno Collection - A Collaboration with Juno Birch and Surely-Sims👽🌵

🚀Download🚀(Patreon - Free)

PAUSE!!!

YES TODAY, the absolutely stunning collaboration between @surely-sims, the alien queen herself, Ms. Juno Birch, and I is finally here 👽!!!

Surely-Sims and I have both been longtime fans of Juno, so getting to do this collab has been an absolute dream, and we're so excited to finally get to share it with you all!

Let's get into it!!

Alien Glam Hair - There's nothing more camp and fabulous than a full head of rollers, other than perhaps a roller behive! Get ready in style with this gawjus hairstyle! Not hat compatible.

Swatches - 24 Polys - 26786 (so demure)

 Incognito Hair - Who is that absolutely stunning woman? It's just Juno doing her shopping and looking like a completely normal human woman with this modest behive in a scarf! Not hat compatible (other than the scarf overlay)

Swatches: 24 (hair) 35 (overlays) Polys: 2432 (actually demure)

 Attack of the Stunning Gown - A glamorous take on Juno's glamorous take on Alien Girl's gown from Mars Attacks! Check off floor length fishtail sequin gown from your Ice-CreamForBreakfast bingo cards!

Swatches: 20 Polys: 9460

Katelyn Dress - A typical Juno silhouette with an a-line shape, bishop sleeve and a feather trim! This dress comes in a variety of swatches and is sure to turn heads!

Swatches: 50 Polys: 8182

 Kristen Outfit - Another Juno go-to is this blouse, skirt and waistcoat combo! Show your friends who's the true alien fashion queen (still Juno, sorry diva) in this 70s get up!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5144

 Erin Outfit: Sister to the Kristen outfit, and probably one of Juno's most recognisable looks. Make a statement with this giant collar!

Swatches: 38 (outfit) 54 (blouse overlay) Polys: 5606

Untitled Sausage Dancer Costume - Juno reaches full power in a hotdog costume, so it only felt right to include one! True to the original, this features realistic bread textures and lettuce that isn't quite lettuce... Oh and who can forget the stunning flippy fringe? She's technically a hat!

Swatches: 6 (costume) 24 (fringe accessory) Polys: 4998

Attack of the Stunning Boots - Where would an alien queen be without a pair of patent platform boots? Probably in some other type of shoe, but perhaps not one quite so stunning! These quintessential boots will really complete any alien's look.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 3244

Vivienne Heels - Inspired by a particular pair of 1990 Vivienne Westwoods, these heels really make an impact...especially if you're landing from space!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 786

 Stunning Sunglasses: Aside from the blue skin, Juno is known for her very specific sunglasses with the incredibly realistic painted highlights that allow her to blend seamlessly with the Earth's population. Also available in regular tinted and clear lenses.

Swatches: 38 Polys: 1876

 Gawjus Gloves: Your regular kitchen gloves made better with some stunning nail polish! An important piece of the human disguise. Comes in fitted and loose versions.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1748 (loose only)

Cucumber Eye Mask & Facepack - Look after your gawjus blue skin with this hydrating facemask, paired with some ominously floating cucumber slices! Swatches: 12 (mask) 1 (cucumber) Polys: 192 (cucumber)

Juno's Sickening Makeup - She's a makeup queen now...well no, I'll probably never do makeup again, but it would be truly rude to deliver a Juno set without her stunning drag makeup! This includes brows, eyeshadow, blush, lips and highlights.

 Pop Earrings - Are they popped gum, are they shiny brains? Answers may vary, but these earrings are iconic and bring some 80s flair to an outfit!

Swatches: 35 Polys: 7788

 Cyberslut Ear Stretchers - Lovely, and very shiny hoop ear stretchers when you want to make a statement, but a regular hoop just isn't doing it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1461

 Circe Earrings V1 - Simple button earrings in a truly 60s/70s style!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

Circe Earrings V2 - The same Circe earrings, but bigger!

Swatches: 45 Polys: 260

 Noodlesoother Earrings - Oversized, abstract 60s/70s earrings for that truly mod look!

Swatches: 41 Polys: 4584

Stunning Cat Glasses - A pair of sunglasses for Juno's sweet baby Cyril! Now they can blend in with the humans together! The space cats are gatekeeping these glasses from the space dogs. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1476

Gawjus Wall Paint - 35 Plain paint swatches with white crown and skirting in the expanded Juno palette! Gawjus Wallpaper - A collection of camp, kitschy, mid-century and mod patterns to brighten up your spaceship or home. Country Carpets: Yes, the 'r' is silent. Lovely carpets in the same swatches available for the wall coverings!

 Juno's Stunning Artwork: Juno's art explores the world as an alien, often pulling inspiration from the trans experience. Add one of these statement pieces to your home for a truly unique talking piece your neighbours will covet but never own (apart from Sylvia-Marie Mashuga. She would totally own at least one). Also comes in a SFW version for the streamers among us...and also anyone who likes a PG experience.

Swatches: 10 Polys: 3036

Joy Despret Begone Sign - The most wretched and cursed vermin in the Junoverse, the Joy Desprets! When they see that you have all this stunning content, they'll come visiting. Head them off with this sign.

Swatches: 4 Polys: 246

Mind Boggling Mirror - Want to feel like Juno is always watching you? Perhaps even judging that outfit? Of course you do. Bring that feeling home with this mirror fashioned after her iconic glasses.

Swatches: 35 Polys: 1437

Judith Louise Doll - What Juno set would be complete without the Christina to her Joan, Ms. Judith Louise! Judith comes in a somewhat clean swatch, as well as a trashed swatch. That's not all, she also comes in a flying version as an oscillating fan!

Swatches: 2 Polys: 14910

 Juno in the Moon Neon Light - What is your house/ship missing? This. Why wouldn't you want a neon light version of Juno's face in your living room?

Swatches: 1 (adjust with the light options) Polys: 8566

And that brings us to the end of my part of the collab! If you're not following Juno, check out her socials here! Go check out @surely-sims' part of the collab here (preview below)!

[shaiyasstuff]

how to accidentally catch feelings while baby-sitting a man-child | sylus

synopsis : You were just a quiet, book-loving college student trying to survive academia and avoid emotional damage—until Sylus crashed into your life like a hot, smug hurricane who never left. For two years, he flirted, slept on your couch, fended off frat boys, and called you “wifey,” while you convinced yourself it was all meaningless chaos. But after one drunken kiss, a fake date, and the shocking revelation that he remembers everything and actually meant it, you’re forced to confront the ridiculous truth: Sylus isn’t just hot and dumb—he’s hot, dumb, and hopelessly in love with you. And unfortunately? You might feel the same.

content : fluff, college!au, sylus being drunk(not really), crackhead energy writing, comedy

writer’s note : i had too much fun writing this, and i mean TOO much

It was a Saturday night—which, in your world, meant a sacred ritual of staying in your dorm, reading a good book, and letting Spotify decide your fate with its chaotic shuffle.

A peaceful, introvert’s haven.

Your roommate had long since abandoned you for brighter, sweatier pastures, hollering, “I’m gonna get laid tonight!” as she tottered out in an outfit that could’ve doubled as a napkin.

You’d only offered her a solemn nod and returned to your paperback and playlist, cocooned in your sofa bed like a content little hermit.

Nothing could disturb your peace.

Until something did.

A knock.

You blinked at the door. Once. Twice. Frowned. Who knocks past 10 p.m.? Who dares?

Your mind immediately went to one person—your best friend, Sylus. The same Sylus who had texted earlier, bragging about some frat party he was going to “grace with his presence.” You had rolled your eyes then.

You were rolling them again now.

Still, you peeled yourself from the embrace of your blankets with a martyred sigh.

“Coming,” you muttered like a wronged Victorian heroine.

And there he was.

Sylus, leaning on your doorframe like a drunken Greek tragedy. The unmistakable scent of alcohol hit you in the face like an offended slap.

“W-Wha—Sy??” you gasped, arms flailing as you caught his teetering form.

He slumped against you dramatically, mumbling something that suspiciously sounded like “Need… y-you,” into the crook of your neck.

Your entire spine straightened. Goosebumps. Betrayal.

“Again?” you asked, somehow dragging his dead weight into your dorm like a disgruntled EMT.

You dumped him onto the sofa, where he sprawled like a starfish in distress.

“How much did you drink?” you asked, already grabbing your emergency water bottle—standard best-friend-care protocol. You tilted it to his lips.

He tried to drink it sideways.

You sighed, loud and long. “Of course you’re useless.”

His eyes fluttered open just a crack as he sipped at the water, managing to prop himself up with one wobbly arm like he was posing for a very tragic Renaissance painting.

“You’re so… nice,” he slurred, dragging the word out with an attempt at a smirk that looked more like a sleepy grimace.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Save the drunk flirting for someone who didn’t just haul your dead weight off the hallway floor.”

This wasn’t your first Sylus Situation.

Probably wouldn’t be your last.

You and Sylus had met on the very first day of college. You’d been an eager, introverted bookworm just trying to get to your dorm before anyone could talk to you.

And then—bam—Sylus. Tall, cocky, and very lost, standing in the middle of the corridor looking as confused as a cat in a swimming pool.

He’d stopped you by physically planting one muscled arm across your path and declaring, with absolute seriousness, “I need help finding the toilet.”

A moment you would never forget, nor forgive.

You had rolled your eyes back then too—but still showed him the way, mostly because he had somehow clamped onto you like a gym-sculpted koala.

To this day, you had no idea why someone at age eighteen had the physique of a Marvel extra, but you had learned not to ask too many questions when it came to Sylus.

Especially when he was drunk and whispering compliments like you were the second coming of hydration.

Now, two years in, you and Sylus were pretty much inseparable.

Not exactly by your choice, of course. He had basically crammed himself into your life like a determined cat forcing its way into a box half its size—and then refused to leave.

Ever.

But you, being the kind-hearted, ever-patient soul that you were cough pushover cough, didn’t really complain. Much.

In his own chaotic way, Sylus had proven… useful.

He was your self-appointed human shield against overly confident frat boys who thought “You read? That’s hot” was a seductive line.

More than once, he’d slung an arm around you and declared, “She’s taken. By academia. Leave her alone.”

You, in turn, had helped him survive the academic hellscape that was calculus. Which mostly meant sitting beside him during study sessions and watching him squint at formulas like they were written in ancient Sumerian.

At one point he tried to bribe you with tacos to do his entire homework.

You took the tacos and still made him do it.

It was an odd, messy sort of friendship. One built on sarcastic banter, mutual blackmail, and late-night ramen runs.

And maybe—just maybe—a little too much unspoken something lingering in the quiet spaces in between.

Like right now, for example.

He blinked blearily at you from your sofa, shirt slightly rumpled, hair a tousled mess, water bottle still clutched like a lifeline.

“You know,” he mumbled, “you’d make a great wife.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Drink your water before I drown you in it.”

He grabs the bottle and downs it in one dramatic go, like he was auditioning for a Gatorade commercial.

Then he thrusts it back at you with all the triumph of someone who just solved world hunger.

“There. I finished it,” he announces, his arm swaying a little as he wobbles in place, clearly very proud of his accomplishment.

You roll your eyes but take the bottle anyway, muttering something under your breath about man-children and alcohol tolerance.

You place it on the table and then, with the kind of exasperated sigh that only comes from long-term best friend duty, plop yourself down next to him on the sofa.

He immediately slouches, his shoulder knocking lightly into yours, like his body had decided it belonged at a thirty-degree angle from yours. You don’t move.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s drunkenly ended up in your space.

Sylus had a talent for turning up half-conscious on your couch like some sort of overgrown housecat that went out, got into a fight, and came back demanding affection and snacks.

Still, as he leaned a bit closer, you caught the faintest scent of his cologne beneath the layers of beer and poor decisions.

That same one he always wore—the one you refused to admit you liked.

He gave a tired little groan and let his head loll toward you. “You’re warm,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. “Like… those fuzzy blankets. But with better insults.”

You blinked. “Thank you, I think?”

He gave a lazy grin, eyes barely open. “Anytime, wifey.”

You smacked his shoulder with a throw pillow.

“OW.”

You had to admit—though only internally, and only under very specific, delusional circumstances—you might have feelings for the guy.

Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. Absolutely not. You’d rather eat a raw onion whole.

Besides, you and Sylus were practically heaven and earth. He walked through campus like he owned the place, girls tripping over their own feet just to bat their lashes at him. Your dorm mate had been one of them, once.

Keyword, once.

That ended the moment she got bold and tried to drape herself all over him like a weighted blanket in heat.

Sylus, being the tactful gentleman he was, had responded by physically lifting her off and shoving her away with all the grace of a bouncer at closing time.

She hit the floor with a squeak and a very visible bruise forming on her hip.

You’d been mortified.

While Sylus looked mildly annoyed, you were busy apologizing profusely, scrambling to help her up while simultaneously smacking him on the arm.

“What is wrong with you?” you’d hissed.

“She was being gross,” he’d replied simply, like that was an acceptable answer. “And touching me.”

“She’s a human being, not a leech!”

“A touchy leech,” he muttered, unfazed.

That was the thing with Sylus.

He never asked to be popular. Girls just looked at him like he was the answer to all their bad decisions.

But you? You were the one dragging him by the ear out of messes he caused. The one making excuses.

The one covering for him when he showed up drunk or bailed on class or told a professor their quiz “was an act of violence.”

You were the constant.

And somehow, in a very twisted way, you were okay with that. Even if your feelings stayed buried beneath layers of sarcasm and very loud sighs.

Especially now, when he was leaning half-asleep on your shoulder, muttering something about you smelling like books and cinnamon and safety.

And damn it, you liked that too much.

Your expression softened despite yourself when you heard the soft, steady rhythm of Sylus snoring.

He had slumped a little more against your shoulder, completely out cold now, mouth slightly parted in the most annoyingly adorable way.

With a small sigh, you leaned forward, grabbing the throw blanket from the armrest and carefully draping it over both your laps. He didn’t stir.

Just exhaled, warm and slow against your collarbone.

You reached for your book again, flipping back to the page you had abandoned during The Great Drunken Entry of Sylus.

And then, as if summoned by the universe purely to torment you, your Spotify decided to betray you.

Under the Influence by Chris Brown began to play.

Your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

“Oh, no,” you whispered like you were in a horror movie and the killer had just creaked open the door.

Because you remembered the last time this song had come on while Sylus was drunk—less drunk than tonight, unfortunately.

That time, he had turned to you, eyes low and voice deep, and said with a completely straight face, “This song represents the things I want to do to you.”

You had choked on your drink. He had passed out shortly after.

You had spent three business days trying to pretend it never happened.

And yet, for some completely inexplicable reason, you never removed the song from your playlist.

Why?

That was a question for your therapist.

You shot a nervous glance at Sylus’s sleeping form. He twitched a little, mumbling something unintelligible.

“No, no, no, no,” you whispered under your breath. “Don’t you dare wake up.”

He let out a soft sigh.

You stared at your phone, debating if skipping the song would be too loud and risk waking him.

You decided to risk it.

Your finger hovered—then paused.

Because deep down, despite your better judgment, part of you wanted to hear what he might say if he woke up again.

And that was the real betrayal.

You scrambled through your playlist like a woman on a mission, muttering curses at your past self while frantically searching for something—anything—less incriminating than Chris Brown.

Eventually, you landed on something soft and unassuming, a gentle acoustic ballad that sounded like it belonged in a rainy café montage.

Peace.

At last.

You settled back in, the weight of Sylus still warm beside you, blanket tucked around your legs, your book finally resting in your hands again.

You exhaled slowly.

And then, without warning, the air was violently knocked out of your lungs.

“Wha—!”

One second you were comfortably seated.

The next, Sylus had flipped you flat on your back, your book flying out of your hands with a soft thud.

A startled yelp escaped your throat, legs tangled in the blanket, brain scrambling to catch up to the fact that you had just been ambushed.

He hovered over you, forearms braced on either side of your head, eyes half-lidded but open—definitely awake now. Great.

“Sylus!” you hissed, face heating. “What the hell?!”

“Shhh,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse, like he hadn’t fully emerged from dreamland yet. “You moved.”

“I was reading.”

He blinked slowly, eyes flickering across your face with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Then he mumbled, almost like a confession, “Thought you left.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I—Sylus, I live here.” You tried to squirm, but he just shifted closer, lowering himself so his forehead bumped gently against yours.

“You smell like lavender,” he whispered.

You were going to die. Right here. Of cardiac arrest and secondhand embarrassment.

“And books,” he added softly, eyes fluttering shut again. “You smell like home.”

Your hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to shove him off or pull him closer.

You did neither.

Because the worst part?

You liked hearing that more than you should’ve.

“Why are you… so cute?” he slurs, eyes glassy and unfocused, his breath warm against your lips.

You barely had time to process the question—if it was a question—before he leaned in and slammed his lips against yours with all the grace and coordination of someone who definitely shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery.

Your brain short-circuited.

Yep. He’s super drunk tonight.

It wasn’t even a kiss, really.

More like a very committed face-plant. His lips mashed clumsily against yours, all instinct and zero finesse, like his drunk brain had gone, “Target acquired—initiate smooch protocol.”

You froze. Arms still mid-air. Eyes wide. Mind absolutely screaming.

It lasted all of two seconds before he let out a satisfied little hum and promptly collapsed against you like a human pancake, burying his face into the crook of your neck as if the kiss had been a casual prelude to nap time.

“…Seriously?” you croaked.

No response. Just light snoring and a very warm, very solid Sylus draped across your body.

You stared at the ceiling.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

You were definitely not blushing.

Not still feeling the ghost of his lips against yours.

Not wondering why the hell your heart was racing like you’d just run a marathon.

Nope.

Totally. Fine.

—•

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the blinds, warm and accusing. You blinked groggily, only to realize that your limbs were pinned.

Sylus was still slumped against your body, face buried in your shoulder, arm thrown around your waist like a weighted blanket with abandonment issues.

He was out, dead to the world, breathing softly like last night hadn’t been a whole fever dream.

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then, very carefully—like you were defusing a bomb—you began to wiggle out from under him.

One leg. Then the other.

You held your breath as you slipped free, standing over him like some war-weary survivor of battle. He didn’t stir.

Honestly, you were impressed. You could have probably vacuumed the room and he’d still be there, drooling peacefully.

You didn’t have time to process it. Class was calling.

And you had never gotten ready so fast.

By the time you made it to your seat, slightly out of breath and still pulling your hoodie over your head, your mind was already spiraling.

The lecture blurred into a series of droning syllables you couldn’t quite absorb.

Because God, you hoped he didn’t remember.

If he did—if he looked at you with that signature smirk and said anything about last night—your soul might physically evacuate your body.

You kept your head down, notebook open but blank, your pen frozen mid-air.

And still, your thoughts wandered.

Back to the feel of his lips on yours—sloppy, warm, unexpected.

Back to the sound of his voice, low and slurred, calling you cute like it was a sin he couldn’t forgive.

Back to the way your heart had reacted like it was hearing something it had been waiting for.

Your teeth grazed your bottom lip, and before you could stop yourself, you caught it gently between them. Just to see if you could remember.

And—damn it—you could.

Which was exactly the problem.

Class ended faster than you realized.

One moment you were lost in a daze of accidental kisses and existential dread, the next, students were filing out around you and your professor was reminding everyone about next week’s quiz that you absolutely did not hear.

You packed your stuff in record time and bolted, telling yourself you’d walk it off. Or compartmentalize. Or, ideally, both.

It was a crisp morning, birds chirping, sun shining, world spinning just fine without dragging your dignity behind it. You were just starting to calm down, your feet falling into a steady rhythm along the pavement, when—

An arm slung over your shoulder.

You stiffened like someone had just hit your internal panic button.

“Thanks for not waking me,” came a familiar, smug voice from your right, laced with far too much amusement for someone who had been drooling on your hoodie six hours ago.

You turned your head slowly—like in a horror film—and there he was.

Sylus.

Disheveled but well-rested. Hair tousled. Hoodie slightly crooked on his frame.

Looking every bit like someone who had zero regrets and somehow still got eight hours of sleep.

And worse?

He was smirking.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Then you exhaled, long and slow, a rush of relief loosening your spine. “So… you don’t remember anything?” you asked as casually as you could.

His smirk deepened. “Nope.”

You nodded, clutching your bag a little tighter. “Good. Great. Fantastic.”

He glanced sideways at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You look tense,” he said, as if you weren’t actively reliving one of the most unhinged nights of your life.

You kept your face blank. “Do I?”

“Mm-hm.” He leaned in slightly. “We didn’t do anything weird, did we?”

Your soul briefly tried to exit your body.

You cleared your throat, gaze fixed straight ahead. “Define weird.”

Sylus chuckled, his grip around your shoulders tightening playfully. “Knew I could count on you to protect my innocence.”

You resisted the urge to shove him into a bush.

Because he didn’t remember.

And maybe that was for the best.

Right?

—•

Later that afternoon, Sylus had peeled himself away from your side with his usual casual flair, stretching like a cat and shooting you a wink over his shoulder.

“Got a date,” he’d called, walking backward with that insufferable grin. “Don’t miss me too much!”

You managed a forced smile, waving him off like it was no big deal.

But it was.

Because the moment he turned the corner, a sharp, unwelcome pang bloomed in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly.

Just… something heavy. Something tight.

Something you couldn’t name without digging into places you weren’t quite ready to go.

You sighed, long and low, and forced your feet toward your next class, pretending that maybe you’d feel better if you just kept moving.

Spoiler, you didn’t.

Classes passed in a blur, lectures droning like white noise in the background.

You tried to focus, really, but your mind kept drifting—back to last night, back to his weight against you, his breath on your neck, the taste of his lips.

Back to the way he didn’t remember.

And now here he was, out on a date, completely unaware of the emotional chaos he’d left you in.

You returned to your dorm that night with your brain fried and your heart somewhere under your shoe.

You flopped onto your bed face-first, ready to disappear into the mattress forever, when your phone buzzed.

Sy: getting drunk again tonight lol

You groaned, dragging your pillow over your head like it could block out both the light and your bad decisions. You tossed your phone aside with more force than necessary.

“He better not come here again tonight,” you muttered to yourself.

But even as you said it… a tiny, traitorous part of you kind of hoped he would.

And that was the worst part.

Of course he did.

Because why wouldn’t he?

You stared at the door for a solid five seconds after the knock. It was almost comedic at this point.

Like the universe had a twisted sense of humor and Sylus was its favorite punchline.

You dragged yourself up, already exhausted before you even turned the knob.

And there he was.

Leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t been out on a date just hours ago, like he hadn’t already hijacked your emotional equilibrium last night.

The now-familiar scent hit you immediately—his signature cologne, warm and clean, now drowned under the unmistakable sting of alcohol.

Not subtle this time.

He smelled like he’d gone swimming in a cocktail shaker.

He grinned at you, lazy and lopsided. “Hey, wifey.”

You stared at him. Blinked once.

Then sighed. “I literally said, ‘He better not come here again tonight.’”

He tilted his head. “But I always come here.”

You resisted the urge to bang your head against the doorframe. “You have a room. A perfectly good room.”

“But yours has you in it,” he said, like it was the most logical argument in the world.

And just like that, your heart did the thing again—the flutter, the ache, the full-body sigh of someone dangerously close to caring too much.

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him stumble in and flop onto the sofa with all the grace of a drunk swan.

He missed the armrest entirely and groaned into your throw pillow.

You closed the door.

“Don’t throw up on anything,” you warned.

“Never,” came his muffled reply. “I have standards.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you do.”

As you fetched the water bottle—again, you glanced over at him. Hair a mess, face flushed, shoes still on.

And yet, somehow, despite it all—despite the alcohol and the chaos and the absolutely maddening way he lived inside your head—he still looked like home.

And that was the problem.

You sighed—again—and knelt beside the sofa, already in caretaker mode. It was routine now. Predictable. You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle with one hand and gently lifted it to his lips, not even bothering to ask this time.

But tonight was different.

Because he didn’t drink.

He didn’t even move.

He just stared at you.

Silent. Still.

Your brows furrowed as you held the bottle there, confused. “Sylus,” you said softly, nudging the rim against his bottom lip.

Still nothing.

You looked up, properly meeting his gaze—and froze.

He wasn’t out of it this time. His eyes, though glassy, were clear. Awake. Watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

Your hand slowly lowered the bottle.

“What?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

His head tilted slightly against the pillow, eyes never leaving yours. “You were biting your lip in class today.”

You blinked. “Wha—how do you even—?”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he murmured, almost like an apology.

Your heart dropped.

He remembered.

He remembered.

The kiss. The things he said. The way he collapsed on you like you were something he could fall into without consequence.

He remembered everything.

Your voice caught in your throat. You straightened up a little, putting distance between you. “You said you didn’t remember.”

He smiled faintly. “I lied.”

And just like that, the air shifted—heavy, warm, dangerous. The room felt smaller. Your heart louder.

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t.

You just stared back, bottle still in your hand, feeling everything you’d tried to bury clawing its way to the surface.

He sat up with a sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair as if he could shake off the tension clinging to the air between you.

You watched him closely, bottle still in your hand, heartbeat pounding like a warning.

Then he looked at you—really looked at you—and said quietly, “I didn’t go on a date.”

Your brows lifted.

“I didn’t even drink tonight.”

That made you pause.

You stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly. And?

Your expression said it all. So?

He shifted, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced like he needed something to hold onto.

His frown deepened, not from annoyance but from something far more raw.

“Don’t you get it?” he asked, voice softer now—less teasing, more real.

You blinked.

No smirk. No sarcasm.

Just Sylus, stripped of his usual bravado, staring at you like he didn’t know what else to say—like the weight of what he felt had finally grown too heavy to carry without showing it.

And suddenly, everything felt louder.

The silence. The breath you didn’t take. The confession waiting just on the other side of his words.

Because maybe… you did get it.

You just weren’t sure you were ready to.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face in frustration like he couldn’t believe he was having to spell it out.

“Come here,” he muttered under his breath—low, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

But before you could even react, his hands were on either side of your face, warm and certain, pulling you toward him.

And then—he kissed you.

Not like last night.

Not messy or sudden or slurred with alcohol and adrenaline.

This kiss was different.

It was gentle. Intentional. His lips moved slowly against yours, like he was trying to say everything he hadn’t had the courage to say out loud.

Like he wanted you to feel it—feel him.

There was no rush. No stumble. Just soft, quiet honesty.

Your hands, unsure at first, slowly rose to grip the front of his shirt. His thumb brushed along your cheek, steadying you, grounding you.

And for a moment, the noise in your head stopped.

No questions. No what-ifs. Just the feeling of him—real, solid, and heartbreakingly tender.

When he finally pulled away, barely an inch, his forehead rested lightly against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness between you.

“I remember everything,” he whispered.

“And I meant all of it.”

“I’ve liked you for a long time.”

The words settled between you like something fragile and warm, and terrifyingly real.

You barely had time to absorb them before he sighed, shaking his head with a look that was equal parts fond and exasperated.

“For someone who’s considered a nerd,” he muttered, thumb brushing against your cheek again, “you’re so stupid.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?”

He gave you a look—the one that always came right before he said something that would both annoy and fluster you to death.

“You seriously didn’t notice? Two years of me practically living in your room, fending off every guy who looked at you twice, ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on your shoulder, telling you a Chris Brown song described what I wanted to do to you—”

“I thought you were drunk!” you hissed, flushing.

“I was,” he admitted, smirking. “But that doesn’t mean I was lying.”

You stared at him, heart a riot in your chest.

He leaned in again, voice softer now.

“I liked you even before I knew what to call it. When you helped me find the toilet on the first day, and I thought, ‘Well. That’s it. Guess I’m not letting her go now.’”

You blinked, wide-eyed. “That was… the first day of college.”

“Exactly.” He grinned, nose brushing yours. “And you’re just now catching up?”

You opened your mouth to argue. Nothing came out.

He laughed under his breath, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “God, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

You were still staring at him, wide-eyed, frozen in the moment like your brain had blue-screened.

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

You had so many things to say, but your thoughts were tripping over each other in the hallway of your mind, arms full of emotional baggage.

He just chuckled.

Low. Warm. Smug.

That infuriating smirk curved at the corner of his lips again, the one that always spelled trouble and somehow still made your heart flutter.

“You really are slow,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Guess I’ll just have to make it clearer.”

And before you could process that ominous statement—

He kissed you again.

But this time, it wasn’t sweet or tentative.

This kiss was deeper. Hotter.

Full of all the pent-up feelings he clearly hadn’t been hiding as well as you thought.

He pressed you back into the sofa, one hand cradling the side of your face while the other slid around your waist like he already knew he belonged there.

You gasped softly against his mouth, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, body reacting faster than your brain could.

And he groaned—low in his throat, like just the sound of you was enough to unravel him.

He pulled back only a breath’s distance, lips barely brushing yours, voice rough. “Still think I’m joking?”

You couldn’t think at all.

And maybe, for once, that was okay.

You didn’t answer him.

You couldn’t.

Because the second your breath hitched, the second your lips parted like you might say something—he kissed you again.

And this time, it wasn’t hesitant.

It was consuming.

All heat and hunger and tension finally unraveling between two people who had been orbiting each other for far too long.

Sylus pressed you further into the cushions, his body aligned with yours like he belonged there. Like this had always been inevitable.

His hand slid from your waist to your hip, fingers curling just enough to make you shiver, while his mouth moved against yours with growing urgency—soft and then firm, teasing then demanding.

Your hands were in his hair before you even realized, pulling him closer, needing more. He groaned into the kiss, low and strained, like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with restraint. “Always walking around in those stupid sweaters, acting like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You whimpered as his mouth trailed along your jaw, down the slope of your neck, finding that spot just below your ear that made your back arch slightly into him. His name slipped out of you before you could stop it—breathy, half-plea, half-warning.

He stilled for half a second, like he needed to hear it again.

“Sylus,” you whispered, and just like that, the last thread of control snapped.

His hands were under your sweater now, fingers splayed across your waist, not rushing—just feeling. Like he wanted to memorize you. Commit every inch of you to memory.

You gasped when his lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper. As if he were trying to tell you something he didn’t quite know how to say.

And in between every kiss, every breath, every graze of skin, you heard it loud and clear.

I want you.

I’ve always wanted you.

Only you.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, lips tingling, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.

Your hands were still fisted in his shirt, your bodies still pressed close, but you needed a second—needed to breathe. Because what the hell just happened?

“Holy shit,” you whispered, voice raw and dazed.

Sylus stilled, eyes searching yours, flushed and breathless. “Too much?”

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. “No. I just…”

Your brows furrowed, a stunned laugh escaping you.

“I’ve been walking around thinking you didn’t feel the same for two years?” you said, incredulous, voice cracking on the last word.

Sylus blinked, then tilted his head slightly, a small, helpless smile tugging at his lips. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“You hid it ridiculously well!”

“I practically moved into your dorm.”

“You ate my snacks and called me wifey. That’s not a confession, that’s just being annoying.”

He laughed, the sound husky and breathless. “I flirted with you constantly.”

“I thought that was just your default setting! You flirt with the barista.”

“I don’t press her against the sofa and kiss her like I’m about to lose my mind,” he muttered, his voice low, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Only you.”

Your heart clenched, hard.

The air between you shifted again, softer now—less fire, more gravity.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “You really didn’t know?”

“I didn’t want to know,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “I thought… if I hoped too much, I’d ruin it.”

His fingers curled gently around the side of your neck, grounding you. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

You opened your eyes and found him looking at you like you were the only thing that had ever made sense to him.

“I’ve been yours,” he said quietly, “since the first day you showed me where the toilet was.”

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh—and kissed him again.

This time, you didn’t stop.

You kissed him like you were catching up on everything you hadn’t let yourself feel.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment since that first awkward hallway encounter.

There were no more games. No more pretending. Just whispered names and stolen breath, soft laughs between kisses, and the feeling of finally, finally being seen.

By the time you fell asleep tangled in each other on the sofa—his hand on your waist, your head tucked under his chin—it was quiet.

Not the lonely kind.

The peaceful kind.

The kind that only comes when you’ve stopped running from something… and finally let yourself fall.

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (h.k) ♡

pairing: huening kai x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.7k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, brief mention of masturbation, implication of sexy time at the end, kai gets a hard-on, everybody’s horny synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | taehyun ver. |

masterlist

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huening kai likes to think of himself as something of a y/n connoisseur.

as your best friend, he knows all your likes, and all your dislikes; he knows what gets your jaw ticking, and what exactly makes you blush.

(he especially knows how to get you to do both.)

huening kai prides himself on knowing nearly all the ins and outs of you, but one thing that he doesn't know, that drives him straight up the wall and keeps him up late at night when he can't seem to sleep...

is whether you feel the same way about him.

to everyone else but you, apparently, it's no secret that kai has quite the crush. but what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to tell you that he wishes it were you he could wrap his arms around instead of the mound of plushies scattered over his bed, or that every time he touches himself, it's only the thought of you that brings him over the edge?

how is he supposed to tell you that you're not just a friend to him? that he wants to be more?

this is what he finds himself pondering yet again as he sits at the drum set in his university band’s practice room, mindlessly tapping the stick in his left hand against the snare, his wandering thoughts leading to half-assed vigor as his bandmate eyes him in mild annoyance from where he sits across the room tuning his guitar.

kai glances at the clock.

she should’ve texted by now… she said 3, right?

his best friend taehyun always jokes that anyone would know huening kai is down bad when he actually checks his phone for someone, and kai has to admit that he’s right.

you’ve got him hooked; how else does he explain the fact that you actually get responses out of him — and much quicker than he’d rather acknowledge — while the guys only get to hear from him, if they’re lucky, about every 3-5 business years? (beomgyu’s exaggeration, not his.)

and yet the only one who doesn’t see it is you.

today he waits for you to show him your haul from the japan trip you just got back from with his sisters — “are you sure i can’t come with you?” “it’s a girl’s trip, kai, and i don’t know how good you’d look in a dress.” — and after how excited you’d sounded over the phone to show him the whole array of plushies and snacks and anime trinkets you’d bought, including some gifts for him, he can’t help but watch wistfully as the minute hand ticks onwards towards 3:27pm.

why is she late..? she didn’t forget, did she?

now, kai is a very patient person; he has no problem with giving people their space.

and with anyone else, he wouldn’t really mind too much if it’s been a while since he’s seen them.

but with you…

he sighs.

you... you’re different.

about 10 more minutes pass and he’s resorted to banging out his thoughts on the drums, almost finally focused on what he came here to be doing in the first place, until he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he’s quick to halt his practice run and fish it out.

he smiles to himself at the sight of your name on his screen;

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : hyuka, i’m sorry i’m late!! i got caught up with something.. ㅠㅠ here are the main pics for now, and i can show you everything in full when you come over later hehe <3

god, how does she make everything sound so cute…

he clicks on the first picture, a small laugh immediately bubbling past his lips at the sight of your barely visible form squished behind the giant plushie you’d seemingly wrestled into the taxi coming back from the airport — he keeps scrolling, seeing some more pictures from the trip but mainly the ones he figures you’d just now taken: your little haul spread across your bed, displaying all the various items you’d bought and couldn’t wait to show him.

“man, how much did she buy?” he murmurs to himself as he glances at the picture count at the top of the screen and sees that there’s still 8 left.

22/30.

“i thought that was everythi—“

CRASH.

the drumsticks in his free hand slip to the ground with a loud clatter, meeting the hi-hat cymbals on the way down in a jarring cacophony akin to the way his brain feels right now as his thoughts stutter, nearly choking on his own spit, fumbling to maintain a steady grip on his phone and ignoring his bandmate’s question of “dude, are you good?” as he stares with comically wide eyes down at the sight on the screen in front of him.

y-you- s-she- what do i-

kai’s mouth runs dry.

so this is what you were “caught up with”.

the heat that travels down to his unsuspecting cock moves in record time as he takes in the 23rd photo: a selfie angled from slightly above, of you perched on the edge of your bed in a cute frilly set of LINGERIE that leaves hardly anything to the imagination, like something out of a playboy lolita magazine of his dreams — the circuits in his brain are working overtime to keep from shorting as his eyes rove intensely over your dizzying figure.

your accentuated cleavage, the plushness of your thighs, how soft the material looks against your skin…

fuck, his own skin is burning.

he can’t even believe that this is real life when he scrolls through a few more and lands on the image that will hereby without a single doubt be burned into his brain forever — you’d let the straps of the flimsy top slip down your shoulders, and now your boobs are out, a real life anime nosebleed moment about to happen for kai as he gapes and flushes at the visualization of his own wet dreams come to life.

zooming in on your thighs (for science), he then notices the tag still attached to your sheer little panties — so you got this lingerie in japan too, and oh my god —

wait, wait, wait—

he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to calm down a little as he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath.

did she actually mean to send these pictures? should i even be looking? did she really want to show me this too? did she... did she buy it for….

he can’t finish the thought.

kai’s rock-hard cock just somehow got harder.

he doesn’t have to battle through his moral musings for much longer, though, because suddenly his phone starts buzzing with a rapid slew of notifications; he nearly jumps as he sees that they’re all from you, and he swallows hard, feeling like he just got caught doing something bad as he hesitates before sliding back to the chat.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI WAIT DON’T OPEN THOSE STOP — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT WAIT WAIT PLEASE — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : KAI JUST DELETE THEM DON’T EVEN LOOK OKAY

he stares frozen at your messages. he knows that you can see he’s read them; he knows he needs to say something.

but now all kinds of new thoughts are circulating through his head.

so it was just an accident? should i try to lie for her sake? do i just say that i didn’t open them yet?

…and if they weren’t meant for me… then who were they meant for?

the irksome twist in his gut is foreign, and he doesn’t like it, not one bit.

but then you keep going... and quickly he realizes that the hole you’ve now begun digging yourself into is finally his ticket to heaven.

— y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you’re not saying anything fuck fuck fuck okay — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : okay look — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : you probably think i’m a psycho pervert — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i probably just fucked up our entire friendship and i’m so sorry — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : i just saw the set and thought it was cute and it made me think of you and i kinda just bought it spontaneously you know and i was just kinda in my feelings so i took the pictures with the rest of the haul but i didn’t mean to send those ones i swear so just pretend this whole thing never happened and we can just be normal okay pls — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : WAIT NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT MADE ME THINK OF YOU LIKE, YOU KNOW LIKE *THAT* THAT’S NOT WJAT I MEANT — y/n/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) : FUCK I DON’T KNLW WHAT I MEANT

kai’s heartbeat roars in his ears (and his cock) as he processes your admission.

she bought it because of me.

he can’t help but grin.

she feels the same way.

huening kai has never been the best at expressing himself, but he knows this is an opportunity that he’d rather die than not take as he takes a deep breath, giddily lowers his thumbs to the screen, and begins to type.

you pace around your room with your lip caught nervously between your teeth and nothing but dread looming over you as the minutes tick by with no response —

fuck, i’ve ruined everything. i’ve ruined it all.

and when your phone finally buzzes with a text, you almost don’t even want to read it.

but steeling yourself, you take a peek —

a sharp inhale. tingles like fire across your skin.

his calm response:

— hyuka! <3 : can i still come over?

your fingers stall dumbly over the keyboard.

is he… going along with it? pretending nothing happened? or… or is he… does he mean….?!

you gulp.

— you : i mean.. of course, if you still want to.. — hyuka! <3 : okay! :)

o…okay..? what is he-

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the next messages that come through, the flood of warmth that shoots immediately down between your thighs leaving you teetering as you stumble back down into a sitting position on the edge of your bed.

— hyuka! <3 : oh, and you should keep the set on — hyuka! <3 : you said you’d show me everything in full, after all.

huening kai has never moved with such determination than the way he does right now as he rises from the drum set and grabs his things, beelining for the door with his jacket held in front of him to hide the raging hard-on in his pants as he calls to his bewildered bandmate, “sorry, gotta head out!” and leaves the practice room in a heady rush.

he knows how you feel now — and he can’t wait to show you face-to-face exactly how much he returns the sentiment.

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— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13, @cha3sonly

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[gordonengineswifenirmal]

A lot of times, Yeah. Not everything is inherently bad about them, but u learn real fast where u stand. A lot of folks swim with the fishes, jump off the bridge together into wtf insanity eejit land. Then, some of us go do our own things. Often, we’re the hated ones. The bridge jumpers will try to run after u n set fire to u because u do something that triggers them. Often, u don’t even know what ACTUALLY triggered them, n sometimes u didn’t voluntarily do something.

Honestly, there r a lot of ppl here that have great art talent, but draw some really wtf shite. Supper cringe. I was nice. I didn’t go up to their blogs n pick fights saying wtf r u doing? wtf is in ur mind? They even would ask stuff on the confessions blog (sometimes nsfw). A few of the folks didn’t like that I censored a word or two. No fights tho, until one day I got random message to the main blog (this one) filled with insults because I don’t support spammers. No one gave me a chance to explain meself. Everything was being taken out of context. They stalked me for stuff, used an image or two without permission to harass me. It just kept getting worse n worse.

N yet, I have friends here, and on discord who are wonderful people. We have great conversations. I can b friends with all ages, n I’m perfectly appropriate. I have a few minors in me discord who I protected when they harassed. I was harassed before because I protected them.

Some of the well known blogs here are supporting ppl who befriended actual paedophiles. Some of these blogs have extremely disturbing content on their blogs. I’ve had ppl who block me, or slandered me n then blocked me so I couldn’t have a rebuttal just because of lies they believe. It’s insane. They claim ‘oh she’s older and sexualises a kids show so she’s a paedo. - they’re doing the same thing they accuse me of. The only differences are that they’re younger, and dont care what bullshit they support, as long as they think it makes them look good. Newsflash - it doesn’t.

I’m not the least bit interested in people inappropriately. The one claimed I was inappropriate at museums and fan events because I joked about stuff with trains. I’ve never been kicked out of anything. This same person was at the unlikely fandom thing with me, met me in person. She knows full well I didn’t do anything wrong, but is making up shite to satisfy something. I’m not even sure what the exact motive is tbh.

We had stupid ppl in fandoms before, but eventually they’d go away. They’d b all know it alls n they’d go away. This is new. This is terrifying. Some folks I know actually witness the real disturbing stuff in other discords n report it to me. I’m glad that as toxic as the Thomas fandom is as a whole, there are still some good bits. That’s what I enjoy. Nice conversations, we can joke about stuff. That’s it. I dunnae if ppl r secretly hoping id want to do more inappropriate stuff, n thats why they r trying to egg me on or silence me ? I hope not. The very idea sickens me. I know they perceive me as a threat, not because I really am one, but because something about me strikes a nerve deep down. N they don’t want to confront that truth. This is what seems to drive a lot of drama in the fandom, n not only for me.

[keeryhours]

teen pregnancy series - steve harrington part 2

Steve Harrington x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

Part 1

You find yourself pregnant with your best friend Nancy’s boyfriend’s baby after a drunken mistake.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, pregnancy, traumatic birth, pregnancy complications, angst

Word Count: 16.4k

A/N:

Please read part 1 first if you haven’t yet! I worked so hard on this one so I’m excited to have the finished thing posted for you guys! Thanks again to the besties @punkrockmlchael @the-witty-pen-name @lesservillain @glassbxttless @fizzing-imagines 💕

Friday came much too soon. You dressed nice for school, not bothering to hide the belly. You wore a little dress that showed off your figure, and a pair of boots. Steve smiled when he saw you, his eyes roaming your body.

“You look beautiful,” he said as you climbed into his car. “They’re probably going to like you more than they like me.”

School had become hell. It helped that Steve had your back. Steve was getting much less shit than you were. In fact, most of the guys at school thought he was something of a legend. But when you were alone, your classmates were vicious.

Someone you never expected to find comfort in was Carol Perkins.

“Talk to her like that again and I’ll kick your ass.”

It was seemingly out of nowhere. One second some kids were making rude comments, then the next thing you knew Carol slid up beside you, linking her arm in yours and telling them off. You were confused as she stepped off with her head held high, taking you with her.

“Um…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m not gonna let anyone give you shit.”

It wasn’t long before you were spending most every minute of your day with either Carol or Steve. Even Steve was a little skeptical of Carol’s intentions, but she seemed sincere.

And she wasn’t as bad as you, Nancy, and Barb had thought. She was sweet - something you never thought you’d say - and she was funny. And she really did have your back. She even stared down Nancy giving you dirty looks in chem.

After school Friday, you followed Steve out to his car just like every day. Only neither of you were taking this lightly. You’d finally be meeting the Harringtons, and Steve had appropriately scared you for the dinner.

“Just letting you know, they’re awful,” he said, talking with his hands as he drove. “Like, really awful. My dad is an ass. My mom just lets him. It’s a whole thing.”

He was doing nothing to help your ‘meeting the parents’ nerves. “Are they really that bad?”

“They’re pretty bad.” He sighed. “I think they’re trying to make an effort, though. They want you and the baby to be around. They’re actually a little excited for their first grandchild.”

You smiled a little at that, hand resting on your belly. It was evident through your clothes and you didn’t attempt to hide it now. “I hope they like me.”

“They probably will,” he said. “Like I said, probably more than they like me.”

You were surprised at just how nice the Harrington’s house was. Steve pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous two story home with a large pool in the back. He gave you a nervous smile and squeezed your hand  like well, here we go.

You walked hand in hand to the front door, Steve letting himself in. The smell of dinner hit you immediately, making your mouth water - was that steak? - and your stomach rumbled.

“Hungry?” Steve laughed.

“Starving,” you admitted.

“Well, good. I’m sure my mom cooked a feast.”

As you walked into the kitchen, a well dressed woman stood over the stove, her hair pulled back tightly. A man in a suit was leaning against the island bar, talking to her. They both looked over as you and Steve walked in, and the woman gave you a polite smile.

“Steve,” she said. “So this must be…”

Steve said your name for you, introducing you to both his parents. “This is my mom and dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” his mother said, reaching for your hand. “I’m Melissa.”

You took her hand and smiled politely as you shook it. You waited for his father to introduce himself, but he said nothing. Finally, his mother spoke up again. “And this is Richard, Steve’s father.”

You could feel their gazes drop to your stomach immediately as you dropped your arm. You suddenly wanted to cover up, wishing you had worn the sweatshirt again, but it was too late for that now.

Steve surprised you by reaching over and placing a hand on your stomach, too. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. “Are you okay?” he asked, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “I’m okay.”

Steve’s hand lingered protectively on your belly for a moment longer before he moved, turning back to face his parents. “So…what’s for dinner?”

Dinner turned out to be steaks, with mashed potatoes and green beans on the side. Your stomach growled with hunger as you eyed the food being placed on the table - eating for two was correct, because you had been infinitely hungrier the past few months.

You all took a seat at the table, Steve’s dad sitting at the head of the table with his wife next to him, Steve on the other side with you at the end of the table. You were so relieved it was time to eat, it distracted you from your nerves as you dug into your plate.

“So,” Steve’s mother began, looking at you. “Steve tells us you’re very smart.”

You blushed, looking over at Steve, who smiled sheepishly at you. “I…I’m in some advanced classes, yes.”

“College plans?” she asked, almost as if she had forgotten about the pregnancy entirely.

Your heart sunk in your chest. “I was planning to go to Emerson. But now…”

An awkward silence settled over the room. The only sounds to be heard were the dishes clinking together as you all ate. It was Steve’s dad who spoke next. “What do the two of you plan to do about all this?” he asked, getting straight to the point as he gestured between you and Steve.

You froze again, but Steve spoke up. “What do you mean, dad?”

“I mean,” he said, looking sternly at both of you. “I don’t think either of you understand the gravity of the situation you’re in.” He looked at you. “You’re an only child, yes?”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“And so are you,” he said to Steve. “So, what do either of you know about babies? And how hard it will be to take care of one?”

No one said anything. You weren’t sure if there was anything to be said to that.

“Not only that,” he continued, “but how will you support yourselves and a baby?”

He was asking questions you truly didn’t know the answer to. “I was thinking I could-“ Steve began, but his father cut him off.

“Thinking you could work for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “We had talked about it-“

“Son, you’re welcome to come work with me. But you’re on your own. This child is your responsibility, I expect you to take care of both the baby and her.”

Steve looked at you. He reached over the table and took your hand. “I can do that.”

His father nodded. “Good.” Another beat of silence. “Do you both plan to finish school?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “The baby won’t be born until after graduation, so…”

“Yeah, we’re both going to finish the year,” Steve said. He looked at you. “She still wants to go to college, maybe…after the baby is born,”

You nodded. “Yeah…if I can.”

“That’s good,” Steve’s mother said, giving you a smile. “I’m glad you have big dreams and ambitions.”

You weren’t sure if she was proud of you, or thought you were naive. “Community college, at least.”

“How far along are you?” she asked.

“15 weeks.”

Steve’s parents’ eyes widened. “Almost halfway there,” his mom said, her voice nervous. “We didn’t realize it was that far along.”

Steve’s hand rested on your knee beneath the table.

“She’s been taking good care of herself,” he said. “Going to all her appointments, taking her vitamins.”

“Well that’s the bare minimum, isn’t it, son?” his dad said.

Steve clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. “She’s doing a good job.”

“Look, son,” he said. “There’s a lot more to having a baby than just having it. You have to worry about diapers, formula if she doesn’t or can’t breastfeed, clothes and supplies-“

“Dad, I know.”

“I don’t know that you do.” His father’s stern voice commanded the entire room. You felt extremely uncomfortable. “I can’t believe you, son. You’re a Harrington. And look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Richard-“ his mother said, but he kept talking as if she hadn’t said anything.

“You’re barely 18 years old. Still in high school. And now you’ve got some girl pregnant?” You felt so small at that - some girl - you shrunk into yourself, wishing you could disappear.

“Dad.”

“No, Steve, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disgraced this family. You’ve embarrassed not only me, but your poor mother as well. Do you know how you’re being talked about down at the clubhouse? It’s humiliating for both me and your mother.”

Steve gripped his fork tightly. He thought about stabbing it into his father’s hand. “Those people do nothing but gossip anyway-“

“Steven!” he snapped. Steve jumped at the sound of his government name, feeling like a child again as he shrunk under the harsh gaze of his father. “You are not to talk to me that way. Do you want a job with me to take care of your little family or not?”

Silence. “I do.”

“Then act like it.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was almost disturbing to see Steve give up like that. You felt terrible for him - your dad hadn’t taken the pregnancy news well, but neither of your parents were strict. Not like this. The silence left behind after that exchange was deafening.

If you hadn’t been pregnant and starving, you would have lost your appetite. Instead you cleared your plate, and could have gone for seconds if someone offered. After dinner you helped Mrs. Harrington clean up, washing the dishes alongside her - which seemed to earn her approval. You could hear a heated conversation between Steve and his father muffled from the living room.

Once the dishes had been done and the dining room and kitchen were spotless, Steve’s parents told you goodbye. “Thank you for coming to dinner,” Mrs. Harrington said. “We enjoyed having you.” Mr. Harrington said nothing.

“Thank you for having me,” you said. You smiled at them, feeling their eyes once again on your stomach now that you were standing. It was something you were having to get used to in general. Everyone looked.

When Steve placed his hand on your back and led you out of the house and into the fresh air of the night, you took a deep breath that you’d needed for hours. “Well. Glad that’s over.”

Steve laughed, opening the passenger door for you. He took your hand to help you lower yourself into the seat. “Told you they were bad.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “Yeah, your dad was an asshole,” you said. It made him laugh again.

As he started the engine and began driving back towards your house, a silence settled, although this was a much more comfortable one. Eventually he reached over and took your hand in his, which surprised you but you weren’t complaining. It was just friendly. Nothing romantic between you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “Even though they seemed like assholes-“

“Your mom was fine!”

“-believe me,” he continued, “you earned points in their book for even having the balls to show up and take their shit.”

You smiled. “You really think they didn’t hate me?”

“Oh, they loved you. That’s just how they show it.”

It wasn’t long before the BMW pulled up outside your home. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow over the yard. “Want me to walk you in?” Steve asked.

“Sure.”

Steve followed you up the walkway and to the door, his hand resting on your back as if you might hurt yourself without his help. You entered the house to find both of your parents in the living room, watching TV.

“Steve!” your mother said. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he said. “Just making sure she gets home safely.”

“Well, we appreciate that.” Your mom smiled. Steve gave you a tight hug, one that you were surprised by. He hadn’t been this affectionate with you.

“I’ll see you later,” he said. You watched as he turned and left, feeling like he was taking a piece of you with him, too. You wanted to reach for him, to grasp his hand and bring him back, bring him upstairs and to your room. It wasn’t even sex you were after (although being pregnant had made you super horny), but even just to be held. Steve made you feel safe, cared for.

But you couldn’t do that. It would be weird, for one. It was weird enough that you wanted him in that way. You went upstairs and took your shower before settling into bed - drifting off to thoughts of Steve.

—

Things were getting easier. Well, for the most part. You were 18 weeks pregnant now, bump perfectly round and visible in all your clothes, even the sweatshirt now. Steve never left your side, taking your safety as the most important thing.

You and Carol had grown tight, too. The most unlikely friendship turned out to be the best. Carol was amazing. She was like having Scary Dog Privileges. No one dared fuck with her, or you, now.

“Wheeler is a stuck up bitch,” Carol said as you passed Nancy giving you the dirtiest look once again. “Don’t mind her.”

“I just…feel bad,” you muttered, holding your books tight to your chest. “I did kind of fuck her over.”

Carol shrugged. “Shit happens. They weren’t gonna last anyway.”

“You don’t think?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, definitely not.” She scoffed. “Harrington thought she was the best thing to ever happen to him, but they would have been over by graduation.”

“Why?”

“Well, they just weren’t right for each other, for one.” She pushed a red curl behind her ear. “Harrington never could have been happy with her long term. She’s too…goody goody.”

It was true. You’d never seen Nancy break a rule in her life.

“You, however,” she said, giving you a playful smirk, “would be perfect for him.”

You blushed deeply. “That’s not true. He doesn’t even like me in that way.”

“Sure,” she said, looking at you with a smile that said she knew something you didn’t.

After school on the way home with Steve, he seemed like he had something on his mind. It wasn’t like Steve to not be chatting you up on the way home, telling you every detail of his day and asking you a million questions about how you and the baby felt. He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road.

“…What’s up?” you finally asked, having had enough of the silence.

Steve looked over at you like you’d surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you have something on your mind,” you said. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He tapped his fingers along with the song on the radio. “I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

Steve sighed. “I was just…so, we’re having a baby together, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“And most people who have a baby together are…you know, together.”

You just looked at him. “What are you saying?”

He sighed again, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m saying…maybe we should try being together? Like, a couple?” He glanced over at you. “For the baby, of course,” he added quickly.

“Steve…”

“No, it’s okay. It was a stupid idea.”

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you wanted to be with Steve, something you hadn’t even realized about yourself. You wanted to try this. But you knew Steve was only asking for the baby’s sake, not because he liked you in any kind of way. And not to even mention how Nancy would feel about it. You cared a lot about how Nancy felt. It was almost like you thought there was any chance of salvaging your friendship.

“It’s not stupid,” you said quietly. “It’s just…Nancy…”

“No, no, yeah. You’re totally right.” He gestured with his hand, drawing a clear line. “We’re just co-parents. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. The car fell into an awkward silence. You felt bad. You wanted to take it back, to tell Steve you wanted to be with him. You wanted to kiss him on the mouth and be touched like he’d touched you that one night. You wanted to do those things with him again. You wanted him to love you.

The BMW pulled up outside your house, but you didn’t get out right away. You debated saying something about it, changing your mind and telling Steve you liked him, but he spoke first.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I even brought that up,” he said. “It’s not like…I mean, we aren’t interested in each other in that way anyway, right? It was a dumb idea. Just forget about it.”

His words struck you in the chest, making your heart ache. You had started to suspect that maybe Steve did like you, but his words put an end to those silly thoughts. How could he? You were nothing like Nancy, not really, despite being her best friend for many years. Nancy was better than you in every way.

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it or anything.”

Something crossed Steve’s face, but he didn’t say anything else. “Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he said instead, the same thing he said most times he dropped you off.

“Okay. I will.” You climbed out of the car, holding your emotions inside as you reached your front door and unlocked it with your key. You turned to see Steve still waiting there, watching to make sure you got inside safely. It only made it hurt worse, the way you wished you could run into his arms and kiss him like you’d dreamed of since that night. But you couldn’t. He wasn’t yours.

He wasn’t yours.

—

You had been counting down to the 20 week appointment since you first accepted the pregnancy and allowed yourself to feel excited. It was the big one - the anatomy scan, where they’d see if everything was progressing the way it should, and if you were having a boy or a girl.

Steve was buzzing with excitement when he picked you up that morning. He handed you a hot chocolate from your favorite place as you got into the car.

“What’s the occasion?” you teased with a smile.

“You know what’s the occasion,” he laughed. “Are you as excited as I am?”

“I don’t know, that’s tough to beat.”

Steve had been talking about it even more than you had. He had a calendar where he was crossing off every day until your due date, and to this appointment. He was probably the most involved dad you’d ever seen, and the baby wasn’t even here yet.

“My mom’s meeting us at the doctor’s office after school,” you said. “She wanted to be there.”

“My mom asked if she could come.”

Your eyes widened. “She did?”

“Yeah.” He started driving to school. “I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Would you have wanted her there?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I mean…” you thought. “I wouldn’t have minded, I don’t think.”

“Really?”

“Well, she is the baby’s grandmother…”

Those words fell heavily onto Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah.”

“But maybe we can tell them in a fun way. Get a little cake or something.”

Steve smiled at you before he turned back to the road. “That’s cute. Yeah, we could do that. I’m sure she’d like it.”

“After the appointment,” you said, “we’ll stop at the bakery.”

The school day really dragged by. You were so excited to get out of there and go to your appointment, every class felt like it was 5 hours long. Steve felt the same way, complaining through the whole day and all of lunch.

“I just wanna knooow,” he whined, leaning back in his seat in the cafeteria. “Like, we’ve been waiting so long.”

“Oh my god, Harrington, we get it,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “We get that you’re excited about your kid.”

“Oh, stop,” Carol said, shoving Tommy’s arm. “Let them be excited. It’s exciting.” She gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand. “You guys talk about it as much as you want to.”

Tommy scoffed. “Really? You’re outnumbering me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Sorry, Hagan, majority rules,” Steve teased. “I get to talk about my kid all day. You’re just jealous, anyway.”

“Jealous?” Tommy said, incredulous, his mouth dropping open. “I am not jealous you’re having a kid in high school.”

“Sure, sure.”

After lunch, you and Carol walked to your lockers together like you did every day. Only she passed hers, following you all the way to yours and leaning against the closed one next to you.

“Can I go with you?” she asked. 

You furrowed your brow, slowing as you took books out of your locker. “Go with me where?”

“To your doctor’s appointment, silly?” she popped her bubblegum, looking at you like the question was obvious. “Can I come?”

“You- why?”

“Because it’s exciting!” she squealed, grabbing your arms. You caught the attention of Nancy and Barb from across the hallway, who both gave you dirty looks. Carol didn’t even notice them. “I wanna find out if I’m gonna be auntie to a little boy or a girl. I think it’s a girl.”

You hadn’t even realized Carol cared so much about your pregnancy. “I…I mean, yeah, you can come.”

“Yes!” she cheered. “I can’t wait to be able to go shopping. I’m gonna spoil them so much, you have no idea.”

After school, Steve surprised you by your locker, making you jump and place a hand over your belly. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But are you excited? Are you ready to go?”

You closed the locker with all your stuff in it, turning the dial to lock it. “Yes. I’m ready. Carol’s coming, too.”

He looked like he might have a question about that, but he shrugged his shoulders instead. “Okay. The more the merrier.”

Nancy and Barb watched as Steve placed a hand on your round belly, 20 weeks now and no longer fitting into any of your old clothes. Your mom had taken you out shopping for some maternity clothes, which you rejected at first because they all looked like old lady clothes. Ultimately you ended up in a pair of maternity jeans with a stretchy band in the front, and a wardrobe of Steve’s t-shirts he so graciously let you borrow, just oversized enough to fit over the belly.

He didn’t care who was watching as he took the minute to rub his large hand over your stomach, smiling at you with such affection it made your heart beat fast. “I’m really excited,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your heart swelled. You wanted to say something - 

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your own thoughts shocked you. Where did that come from?

“I’m excited too,” you said instead. Your hand rested on top of his. You could practically feel Nancy and Barb burning a hole into the back of your head. Steve didn’t even notice them. He just smiled back at you.

“Let’s go,” he said. He put his hand on your lower back and guided you out of the building, not caring if anyone was looking (they were). Carol was waiting by the car, her face breaking out into a huge grin when you and Steve approached. Tommy stood beside her, looking much less excited.

“This is so exciting!” Carol squealed, grabbing your hands. “It’s a girl, I know it.”

“I think it’s a boy,” Tommy muttered, and you smiled - seems like he was more invested than he let on.

“You just want to be his favorite,” Carol said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“We’re gonna follow you,” Tommy said, swinging his keys around his finger. “So whenever you guys are ready.”

Steve helped you get into the passenger seat - you needed a little help these days. He got into the driver’s seat and turned some music on, pulling out of the school parking lot. Tommy’s car followed.

At the office, your mom’s car was waiting right out front. She smiled when she saw you, but you could tell she was feeling emotional. She pulled you into a hug when you got out of the car, holding you close.

“Still can’t believe my baby is having a baby,” she said, sniffling. You hugged her back tightly. Becoming a mother yourself opened your eyes to a lot of things about your own mother.

Your entourage took up a lot of room in the tiny waiting room. Steve sat on one side of you, your mom on the other, and Tommy and Carol across from you. When the nurse called you back, they all followed. The nurse seemed a little surprised, but didn’t say anything.

She did your vitals first, taking your temperature and blood pressure. She looked a little concerned as she took the blood pressure cuff off. “Have you had high blood pressure before?”

You looked up at her, confused. “No.”

“Hm.” She wrote something down in your chart. Steve looked instantly terrified, looking between you to the nurse to your mother, who looked equally as nervous.

“Is that bad?” Steve asked.

“The doctor will discuss it with you,” the nurse said politely, which did not satisfy Steve whatsoever, but he didn’t press the subject.

Steve stayed right by your side as you waddled into the exam room, your mom and friends following behind you. Steve helped you up onto the exam table. You cradled your belly in your arms, feeling the immense love for the tiny little baby already.

It wasn’t long before the ultrasound technician came in, wheeling an ultrasound machine. An external one this time, thank god. “Good afternoon!” she said, giving a huge smile to everyone in the room. “I see we have a party going on in here.”

She instructed you to pull your shirt up as she prepared the machine. She squirted the cold gel onto your belly, pressing the wand hard into your skin and moving it around as she tried to find a good view of the baby. Steve sat right next to you, holding your hand tightly. His eyes were glued to the screen. Everyone’s were.

The small baby popped up on the screen, looking more like a baby than you’d ever seen it. It was real, it felt real - that was a baby. Your baby. Yours and Steve’s. A little Harrington.

Steve’s free hand shot up and covered his mouth as he took in the sight of his child on the screen. Tears welled in his eyes, and he was shaking. He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed his back. Your mom had also started crying, Carol watching with her hand over her chest, even Tommy was moved.

The tech took measurements of every body part, logging them in your chart. Everyone just watched the process, watching the baby moving around on the screen until the moment you’d all been waiting for finally came.

“Do you want to know the gender?” she asked, smiling at each person in the room.

“Yes!” you and Steve both said together. You looked at each other, Steve smiling and a giggle escaping your lips.

“Alright then,” the tech smiled. She moved the wand, then wrote something in the chart again. “You’re having a baby girl.”

The whole room erupted into excitement. But when Steve looked at you, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

“A daughter,” he said, like he was in awe. “We’re having a daughter.”

“Yeah, we are,” you said as the tears finally fell down your cheeks. Steve reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “This is the best day of my life. So far.”

That made your heart soar. You squeezed his hand again, and he held yours with both of his, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for this. This is the best gift I ever could have hoped for.”

“Steve…” you said, tears falling even faster now.

“Don’t cry, please.” He wiped your tears away again. “Just…thank you.”

After the ultrasound, the tech left and you were left waiting for the doctor. The room was buzzing with excitement over the news, everyone talking all at once.

“I can’t believe I’m having a granddaughter,” your mom said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Reminds me of when I was pregnant with you.”

You imagined what it might be like one day to be supporting your daughter - the one growing in your belly now, this tiny little creature. It was hard to imagine her as a real human being who would grow into her own person one day. You hoped she wouldn’t be having a baby in high school, at least.

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, “if any guy comes within 100 feet of her I’m beating him with a stick.”

“Ohmygod,” Carol said. “We have to go shopping. There’s so much cute stuff for baby girls. Do you have anything yet?”

“Not really,” you admitted. You had been mostly waiting for this appointment - it’s like it hadn’t felt real before. Now, it was real.

“That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll go get all kinds of stuff.”

Steve rubbed your belly as everyone kept talking, like he was in his own little world. Just him and his baby girl, moving beneath his palm. The movements were soothing, relaxing you.

Finally the doctor walked in, greeting everyone with a smile. She scanned through your chart before speaking. “I see you had some high blood pressure today.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ve never had that before.”

“We’re going to keep an eye on that,” she said. “I want to see you here again next week, okay?”

“Next week?” you asked, confused. Your appointments had been monthly until now.

“Yes,” she said. “High blood pressure can be a sign of a lot of things, some small and some big. I just want to keep an eye on it.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, interrupting the conversation. “Is she okay? Is the baby?”

“There’s no reason to worry right now,” she said, trying to calm Steve. “If there’s something more serious going on, we’ll catch it.”

Steve begrudgingly accepted that answer. He wasn’t trying to be a total asshole, he was just scared. But the appointment concluded after that, and then all of you were walking out of the building together.

“I’ll see you at home, honey,” your mom said, giving you a tight hug. “Drive home safe,” she added, pointing to Steve.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting.

“I’ll call you,” Carol said, pulling you into a hug. “Love you.”

When only you and Steve were left, he helped you into the car again. He started driving towards town. “How are you feeling? About all of this?”

“I’m happy,” you said, hand rubbing the bump. “Really happy,”

Steve shot you a smile before turning back to the road. “Me too.”

He pulled into the parking lot of the bakery. Inside you ordered two cupcakes with pink filling, ready for Steve’s parents to discover the news. It was hard not to take a bite as you left the bakery.

“I can pick you up tomorrow to come have dinner with us and…you know, tell them,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. You held the cupcakes safely on your lap as he drove you back home.

Your house wasn’t far. Your mom had had to go back to work and your didn’t hadn’t gotten off yet, so it was empty. Steve came in with you, following you as you deposited the cupcakes in the kitchen and then up to your bedroom, carrying your bag for you. He dropped it by the end of your bed where you always sat it. It was weird how he’d started to know you so well.

He approached you, placing both hands on your belly. It was so natural for him now, it was his favorite thing to do. He got down to his knees in front of you so he was face level with your belly.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said. Your heart thudded hard in your chest - he had never done something like this before. “I’m your daddy.” He rubbed a hand across your stomach, caressing it lovingly. “I love you very much already. Did you know that? I can’t wait to meet you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes. You quickly wiped them away, watching the moment between Steve and - your daughter.

“You be good for your momma, okay?” he continued. “She’s working hard growing you and finishing school at the same time. She’s the coolest. You’re going to love her.”

You could feel her wiggling around, kicking at Steve’s hand. His eyes went wide- “Did she just kick me??”

You laughed, amazed. “Yeah, I think she did.”

Steve was smiling so big, his own eyes welling with tears. He kissed your belly, rubbing where he had felt the kick. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When Steve stood again, he looked happy. So happy. It made your heart swell, too.

“I guess I gotta get going,” he said, looking like he absolutely did not want to go. “Still under curfew, and all.”

“Okay,” you begrudgingly agreed. You found yourself wanting to spend more time with Steve - and you already spent just about all your time together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve’s face brightened at that reminder. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

He surprised you when he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly while still being careful of the bump. It felt like a loss when he pulled away, and then he was leaving, taking a piece of you with him.

—

The next day, Steve picked you up for dinner just as planned. You had the cupcakes ready to go. You were nervous, your hands shook as you buckled your seatbelt. Steve could sense your anxiety immediately, reaching over and taking your hand.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. They’re gonna be happy. The hard part is over.”

You tried to keep that in mind during the ride there. You were extra careful with the cupcakes, not allowing even a smidge of icing to be messed up. At the Harrington’s Steve came around and took them from you before helping you get up.

Inside the house smelled delicious once again. Roasted chicken this time, with potatoes and greens. Mrs. Harrington smiled as the two of you walked into the kitchen.

She greeted you by name, walking around the island bar to hold your hand in both of hers. “How are you feeling, darling? How’s the little one?”

“Good, and good,” you answered both her questions. She surprised you by placing a hand on your belly - you had yet to have anyone but Steve do that. It felt strange.

“What are these?” she asked, gesturing to the two boxes in Steve’s hand.

“We brought cupcakes…to announce the gender,” you explained.

“How cute!” She took them from Steve carefully, sitting them on the counter. “Richard should be down any minute now.”

Mr. Harrington came down the stairs as you were helping Mrs. Harrington set the table. He looked stern and unfriendly as ever, still dressed nicely in a button down and slacks. He greeted you shortly.

“Should we go ahead and do the reveal before dinner?” Mrs. Harrington asked. “I don’t think I can wait.”

“Sure, we can,” you said. Steve handed one of the boxes to his father and the other to his mom. The opened them, revealing the cutely decorated cupcakes with white icing and a baby rattle on top. 

“Ready?” Steve asked.

They took the small decoration off and peeled the paper from around the sweet bread. They exchanged a look before they bit into their cupcakes at the same time.

Mrs. Harrington lit up when she saw the pink filling, squealing and throwing her arms around Steve first, then you. “A granddaughter!!”

Mr. Harrington had…no reaction. In fact, he almost seemed displeased. “You knock a girl up and you couldn’t even have a son to carry on the Harrington name?”

Silence. “Dad-“

Mr. Harrington held a hand up, silencing Steve. But nothing more was said as everyone sat down to dinner in the awkward silence.

It was uncomfortable. Mr. Harrington was a total asshole, and his wife just let him without saying a word, leading to awkward moments like these. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if there was anything to say.

When you and Steve left, he was apologetic. “I’m so sorry. He’s such an ass. I’m really sorry he ruined the whole thing.”

You shook your head as you climbed into the car. “It’s not your fault, Steve.”

“I know. It just…feels like it reflects back on me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him as he began the drive home.

“Just that…it feels like people think I’m an asshole just like him. Or that I will be one day. And it’s embarrassing.”

You took his hand. “Steve, you’re nothing like your dad.”

He let out a long breath. “God. Thank you. For saying that.”

“Seriously,” you continued. “Nothing like him. You’re kind, and sweet, and caring, loyal, funny, reliable-“

“You think all those things about me?” Steve asked, goofy grin on his handsome face.

You blushed deeply. “I…”

“I think you’re great, too.” His eyes were on the road now. “The best, even. I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else.”

“Not even Nancy?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. “No. Not even Nancy.”

You wanted to say it then - I love you. But it didn’t come. You tried to work up the courage, but before you had the chance to, the car was coming to a stop outside your house.

Neither of you said anything at first, neither daring to move. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but just closed it again instead. He turned to you and gave you a smile that seemed rather forced.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he said. “Take care of yourself and our little nugget.”

“I will,” you agreed. You waited to see if he would say something else, but he didn’t. So you opened the door and climbed out (with some difficulty) and walked into your house.

Up in your room that night, you thought. You had much to think about, and your mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up. You were about to resort to counting sheep when your phone rang on your bedside table.

You snatched it off the receiver, hoping to hear one particular voice only. “Hello?”

“Uh, hey.” Just as if you had manifested it, Steve’s voice came from the other line.

“Hey,” you said, smiling like an idiot because he couldn’t see you. “What’s up?”

“I just…” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to talk to you.”

Butterflies took flight in your stomach and chest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled lightly to himself. “I don’t have anything else. I didn’t exactly plan this far, I just picked up the phone.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Just laying in bed…was trying to sleep, but…yeah.”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” you said. You didn’t admit that you had been longing to call him and hear his voice just as bad as he had for you.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“A little.” You rubbed your belly beneath your loose sleep shirt.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get?”

You thought for a minute, smile on your lips. “Maybe one of those giant pregnancy pillows.”

“You got it.”

The baby kicked hard, and you moved your hand to where she was, letting out a little “Ooh.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said. “She’s just really active tonight.”

“Maybe she misses her dad.”

“Maybe she does.” There was a moment of silence over the line.

“Do you have any name ideas?” Steve asked out of the blue.

“Oh,” you said, question catching you off guard. “I haven’t really let myself think about it yet.”

“I like Elizabeth,” he offered. “Ellie.”

“That’s really cute.” You were surprised at how much you liked the name, since it was the first one either of you had brought up.

“Maybe Danielle.”

“I like that too, but I like Ellie better.”

“Me too.” You could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “Elizabeth Harrington.”

Harrington. Your daughter will be a Harrington. You didn’t love the idea of having a different last name than her, but you didn’t want to revisit your dad’s insistence to get married.

“Elizabeth ‘Ellie’ Harrington. I like it.” You smiled too, but your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. It was hard to believe this little creature you’d been carrying around was a human being with a whole name and everything.

“What about her middle name?”

You thought. “Maybe Louise? After my grandmother?”

“Perfect. I love it.” Steve sounded infinitely happier than he had when you’d picked up the phone. He yawned, which made you yawn, too.

“I guess I’m gonna actually try to go to bed,” he said reluctantly. “Talking to you helped.”

“Glad I could be of service.” You twirled the phone cord around your finger. “I guess I should go to sleep, too.”

“Did talking to me make you feel better?

Yet another smile grew on your lips. “Yeah. It did.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight.” The way your name sounded when it left his lips had you aching for him. In any way.

But instead you hung up the phone, wishing Steve was here with you instead of in his own house. You wished he was here to hold you, to cuddle you to sleep and keep you safe. You drifted asleep to thoughts of Steve in bed behind you.

—

“I can’t believe we’re graduating in 2 weeks,” Carol said, flipping through the racks of dresses. “It’s finally over.”

“Finally,” you agreed, because you were equally ready to be done with the halls of Hawkins High. Especially at 27 weeks, just about in the third trimester and absolutely huge. You waddled through the store behind Carol, your back aching horribly.

“Ooh, this one’s cute,” she said, pulling a white dress off the rack. You remembered a time when you could still fit in anything besides maternity clothes.

“That would look really good on you!” And you knew it was the truth. But everything looked good on Carol.

“We need to find you something,” she said. “You’ve got to look hot.”

“I don’t think that’s possible at this point,” you said, gesturing to the bump. 

“It’s definitely possible. You are hot.” Carol looked at you like this was obvious information. “We’re gonna find you a dress you feel beautiful in. I promise.”

After Carol decided on a dress, you moved on to a maternity store. Once again, the majority of the selection was, for lack of a better description, old lady clothes. You felt dejected as you and Carol looked through the racks, Carol scrunching her nose up at most of the options.

Until finally, she gasped, pulling out a white dress with lace over the bodice. “Oh, this is the one.”

It was pretty. You took it from her hands and examined it. You couldn’t believe how pretty it was, in this store surrounded by the ugliest clothes you’d ever seen. But here it was. “I need to try it on first.”

You weren’t hopeful as you and Carol walked to the changing rooms, and you especially weren’t hopeful as you undressed and saw yourself in the mirror. Your body had changed so much. It was unrecognizable. You felt self conscious constantly, like you were this huge fucking planet walking around and drawing everyone’s attention, and not in a good way.

You forced yourself to turn away and slip the dress over your head. It fit surprisingly well, hugging your breasts and chest tightly before flowing down over the bump. It stopped about at your knees. It did look really nice on you, you had to admit. It accentuated the bump in a flattering way, more like look how cute I am! than I’m trying to hide this huge thing under my clothes.

You stepped out of the changing room, and Carol gasped, clapping her hands together in approval. “Oh, this is the one, baby. You’re getting this one.”

The confidence this dress gave you made you feel as if you were glowing, the way they always said pregnant women did. You were disappointed to change back into your own clothes, but when you took the dress to the counter and bought it, it made you feel better.

Maybe graduation wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

The day of graduation, you were 29 weeks, everything was swollen and you were in pain. You were in a bad mood as your mom helped you get ready. You were already in your dress, doing your makeup in the mirror as your mom styled your hair for you.

“It’s going to be fine,” your mom said. “You’re gonna walk across that stage, get your diploma, and be done with it. And you have Steve and Carol with you.”

That was true. It was the only thing that made you feel better. You were humiliated at the thought of having to walk the stage with your huge belly, everyone knowing who you were and what you did. How you got here.

Steve came and picked you up since you didn’t want to be alone, your parents driving on their own in time for the ceremony. As graduates, you had to be there early. Steve held your hand the drive there, like he could sense how scared you were. Maybe it was obvious.

Carol pulled you into a tight hug when you and Steve entered the gymnasium, all set up with a stage and lots of seating. “You look beautiful. I knew you would.”

You blushed. “Thanks, Carol.”

“You do,” Steve agreed. With the way he was looking at you you could tell he was genuine. In fact, he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room full of a hundred Hawkins High graduates. It made your heart beat fast. His hand rested on your cheek, gently caressing the skin. You both totally forgot about Carol and Tommy standing right next to you, forgot that you were embarrassed to be here. All

there was was Steve, and god, you wanted to kiss him-

“Isn’t this sweet?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Nancy,” you said, turning and seeing her standing there, looking beautiful as she always did. Barb stood next to her, looking uncomfortable.

“What do you want, Wheeler?” Carol asked, her usual attitude back. The one you did not want to be on the other side of again.

“Just wanted to congratulate the new parents,” she said mockingly. “It’s almost time now, isn’t it?”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew she was being facetious, she didn’t actually care about the state of your pregnancy or the baby. But it was still so strange to have Nancy talking to you this way. Your long time best friend, the sweetest person you knew, turned into this.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It is.”

“Are you two together yet?” she asked. “Or has Steve gone and knocked up another slut?”

“Oh, you bitch,” Carol said, pushing through to stand right in Nancy’s face. “Why don’t you go find Byers? You two have been getting pretty cozy even since before you and Steve broke up.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped. “You-“

“Nancy, I think you should go,” Steve said, stepping between the girls to put an end to this fight before it got out of hand. “You aren’t actually here to talk, so just go.”

She looked at Steve then with so much hurt in her eyes, you felt guilty all over again. “Sure, Steve. I hope you’re happy.”

Barbara put a hand on her back as they walked away, and you let out a deep breath. Steve pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I just feel like the biggest backstabber on the planet.”

Steve sighed. He laid his head on top of yours. “You’re not a bad person, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You knew it was just friendly, but the sound of the nickname gave you goosebumps anyway. You wanted so badly to tilt your head up and look into his deep brown eyes, to-

“Alright, everyone, we’re getting started! Get to your assigned places!”

Steve reluctantly pulled away from you with his hands on your upper arms. He looked you over again, his face creased with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “Now let’s go graduate.”

The ceremony was long and boring. You waited your turn until Principal Higgins reached your name on the alphabetical list, then you stood, smoothed your dress down over your belly, and walked to the stage with confidence.

You could hear your parents, Steve, Tommy, and Carol cheering for you louder than anyone. You blushed, but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Principal Higgins handed you your diploma with a smile and a “Well done,” and that was that. You exited the stage and went back to your seat, watching the remaining students graduate.

When you tossed your hat into the air at the end of the ceremony, you felt more emotions than you’d expected to. School was really over. You couldn’t even remember a time before you were in school - it had been your whole life, and now it was over. Now you had much bigger, scarier things headed your way.

Steve’s parents threw a huge graduation party for him, and were kind enough to make it a joint party for the two of you (at Steve’s insistence). There were a lot of guests, lots of Steve’s family you didn’t know and a lot of friends and acquaintances from school. You were glad Tommy and Carol were there.

You entertained yourself with the buffet table - still very much eating for two, after all. Steve stayed by your side, introducing you to his distant family members. They all looked at your belly before they met your eyes. You had grown used to that treatment.

“I’m really proud of you,” Steve said when the two of you caught a moment alone. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s really impressive that you finished school with…everything going on.”

You shook your head. “It’s really not that impressive.”

“It is, and you should be proud of yourself.” Steve looked at you for a minute. He stepped closer to you, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face. He caressed your cheek, his eyes staring deeply into yours. Your heart stuttered in your chest - were you even still breathing? He parted his lips, moving closer and closer.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss there. Your heart sunk - you felt like an idiot for thinking that he had feelings for you, that he was going to kiss you. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, even though Steve had no idea what you’d been thinking he was about to do.

You spent the rest of the party feeling like an absolute fool for wishing for something that would never happen.

At the end of the party, Steve and Carol both gave you a big hug. Even Tommy joined in. Besides your own angst, it was hard not to smile when you were surrounded by these people you loved - your found family.

You rode home in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, your dad sitting in the back to give you the extra space. You watched out the window, and you thought not about your high school career coming to an end, or the baby on the way, or the situation with Nancy and Barb. You thought about Steve.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

—

You put the brochure down in front of Steve. “I signed us up.”

He picked up the paper, examining it. “‘Lamaze’? What the fuck is Lamaze?”

“It’s a birthing class,” you said, although you thought he would have gotten the hint from the pictures of smiling pregnant women and dads on the front.

“A birthing class?”

“Yes, Steve. I’m 32 weeks pregnant. This baby is coming soon, and I want to be ready.” Truth be told, you were terrified. Any amount of preparation would be better than your current state.

“I- we just- well, yeah,” he said, stumbling over his words. “It’s just-“

“What?”

Steve let out a deep breath. “It’s really coming soon, huh?” You softened as you could physically feel the anxiety radiating off his form where he sat across from you at the diner. He was jittery, bouncing his leg and fiddling with his hands.

“Yeah. Really soon,” you said, not mincing any words. “But we’ve got this. We’ve had months to prepare, we have a couple more to go. The baby has been healthy, I’ve been healthy besides the blood pressure. We have the big stuff - crib, stroller, car seat. The baby shower is in 3 weeks. We’re doing okay.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re doing okay.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“We just need to be ready for the birth, you know?” you continued. “Neither of us has ever done this before.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, longer now than when you’d met. It suited him. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“You were gonna go with me either way.”

He laughed. “I’ll pretend I had a choice.”

The class was that Thursday. You had been staying home since graduation, while Steve had started working with his dad. It wore him out and he kind of hated it, but it was worth it for the benefits and pay. It was really the only option to take care of the three of you.

Steve picked you up after work, still dressed in his button down and tie, loosened around his neck. He smiled at you tiredly - “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How was work?”

“Boring. Long.” He sighed as he pulled away from the curb and drove towards the hospital the class was being held at. It was the same hospital you’d be delivering at. “I hate it.”

“I know,” you said quietly. There was nothing to be done about it, though. It didn’t stop the guilt from eating at you.

At the hospital Steve helped you get out of the car, since you were officially too big to do it yourself now. Once you were down, you were stuck without help. It made you feel useless. He put his hand on your back as you waddled inside and signed in.

The goal was to give birth without the epidural. You weren’t sure how well that was going to go for you, but you were doing everything in your power to be prepared and have the best chance of making it without the medication.

You took a seat on one of the mats, Steve helping to lower you to the ground. He sat next to you, looking awkward as he looked around at all the other couples. Not that you were a couple.

The class started with relaxation exercises. Steve sat behind you, rubbing your shoulders and back as you tried to mentally get in the zone - meditating and doing deep breathing exercises along with the instructor.

The next thing they did was play a childbirth video.

Steve turned so pale you thought he would pass out. His eyes were glued to the screen, staring in absolute horror. His jaw was dropped, like he never expected childbirth to be this graphic- or dramatic.

After the video, the instructor talked some about the birthing process. You and Steve both listened intently, Steve even taking notes in a little notebook he brought along with him. It was cute.

After the lecture portion of the class, the instructor started leading you through labor breathing exercises.

“Alright, dads,” she said in her soothing voice, clapping her hands together. “Sit behind mom and hold her - hands on the belly for support - now breathe in and out with me, just like this.”

You followed her example, breathing in quickly three times then a long breath out. You repeated the exercise over and over along with the rest of the class, Steve’s strong hands on you as he breathed along with you. It was intimate. You leaned back into his touch and his body molded around yours.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep breathing just like that. You’re gonna kick ass.”

Steve’s words were encouraging. It wasn’t exactly the method the other dads in the room were using, including more swearing than anyone else, but it worked.

The instructor taught the dads a lot of ways to support their partners, and Steve was paying full attention. Then she instructed everyone to stand - Steve pulled you up - and had the dads stand behind their partner.

“This has nothing to do with birthing techniques,” the woman said with a smile, “it’s just a moment of relief for our moms.”

Steve followed her steps and wrapped his arms around you, hands beneath your belly. Then, on the count of 3, he lifted up slightly, holding the weight of the baby. You could have cried from relief - your back hadn’t felt better in months. You hadn’t realized how much weight you’d been carrying around.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed. “You carry all this around all day??”

After the short break, she went on to talk about newborn care. Steve changed his first diaper on a doll, which went about as well as you could expect, but you knew he’d be a fast learner.

Steve left the class with a newfound appreciation for you and everything you’d been going through and would go through. He was extra attentive as he helped you into the car.

“Want me to pick up some food on the way home?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition and starting the BMW.

“God, you read my mind.”

—

You were 35 weeks when your baby shower finally came around, absolutely huge and miserable. I mean huge. You didn’t even think it was possible to become so round, yet here you were.

You had started to be in a pretty bad mood all the time since being so heavily pregnant. You were, frankly, over it. Everything hurt, you felt like you took up so much space and looked like garbage, you couldn’t breathe, and there were no comfortable positions left.

Carol helped you dress in your long pink dress, the fabric hanging flatteringly along your body. You actually looked beautiful - it had been a long time since you felt beautiful.

“Look at you,” Carol said, a huge smile on her face as she looked you over. She looked as if she might cry. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

“I look huge,” you said, turning each way in the mirror.

“You look like a mom,” she said. “Very womanly. I dig it.”

You laughed at that, smoothing your hands over the belly. You actually didn’t feel bad.

“Steve’s going to lose his mind.”

You froze.

“What?” Carol asked, mockingly innocent. “You think I haven’t noticed how into him you are? Or how into you he is?”

“He is not into me,” you said quickly.

“Yes, he is. I’ve known Steve since elementary school. I’ve been friends with Steve since elementary school.” Carol looked at you pointedly. “He is head over heels for you, girl.”

“He just cares about me because I’m carrying his baby. It’s nothing more than that.”

“Tell yourself that if you want,” she shrugged.

You tried to push her words out of your head as you finished getting ready for the party. They were still lingering in your head when you walked into Steve’s large immaculate living room, to a room full of people you loved and some you vaguely knew.

You weren’t usually one to be the center of attention. You’d spent most of your life flying under the radar, not drawing any extra attention to yourself. But the baby shower was like having a spotlight on you, everyone looking at you and your belly and knowing how you got here. Even if they didn’t know the Nancy part, everyone here knew you and Steve were teen parents after a hookup and weren’t even together.

You happily helped yourself to the food, however. Your and Steve’s moms, with the help of Carol, had really outdone themselves. It was the fanciest baby shower you’d ever seen.

There was a beautiful rocking chair with a bow on it by the gift table. You wiped tears away as you removed it and sat down in the chair with Steve beside you. Carol began bringing you gifts, opening one after another of baby clothes and diapers and supplies you had been panicked about being able to afford. It only made you cry harder.

“There’s one more,” Steve said after you opened the last gift. The whole room of people watched intently, which made you uncomfortable, but Steve always made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

He moved to the table and grabbed a card. It was tucked neatly in a dark green envelope, and it was thick, like there was something inside. You looked at Steve curiously. “What is this?”

“You have to open it and see,” he laughed.

You gave him a playfully cautious look before you started to break the seal on the envelope. You pulled out a pink card decorated with baby rattles and diapers and cribs. Slowly you opened it, and your jaw dropped.

There was a key taped inside. And on the other side, written in Steve’s messy scrawl:

My gift to you. Thank you for everything you do. You are my best friend and you are going to be the best mom this world has ever seen. I can’t wait to watch it happen.

Welcome home.

The tears were falling freely now. “Steve- is this-?”

“The key to our new apartment,” he finished for you. “I’ve been looking for months and I finally found one we can afford that looks incredible. Two bedrooms. A place for us to make our own.”

“Steve-“ you cried, but it was barely audible through the tears. You weren’t even thinking about how there was a room full of people watching you cry. “You shouldn’t-“

“What, shouldn’t have gotten us a place to live together like a real family?” He chuckled. “Let yourself be happy, sweetheart. You deserve this.”

The whole room of people were watching, some tearing up at the affectionate display. Steve must have been saving up for this since he got the job with his dad, not spending a single cent on anything for himself. His selflessness never ceased to amaze you, even though you should be used to it by now.

The baby shower was a huge success. You got everything you needed. You were in tears by the time the party was over, giving everyone a hug and all your gratitude as they left. When the guests were gone, you were left alone with Steve and both of your parents.

“You have until this weekend to move out,” Mr. Harrington said to Steve. “I’m not supporting you with a kid on the way.”

The whole vibe in the room shifted. What was once full of joy and happiness was now awkward and stilted. Mr. Harrington had brought the mood down once again.

“You know,” your mother said, “I think you should be proud of them. Sure, they got themselves into a mess, but look at them.” She looked at Steve with a smile, then at you with so much emotion in her eyes. “They’re doing great for themselves. Graduated, a good job, an apartment. They’re going to be okay. I believe in them.”

No one said anything at first. Your mom wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close like she often did when you were half her height. Finally, Mr. Harrington cleared his throat.

“Well. Isn’t that sweet. And naive.”

He turned and left before anyone could say anything else. You could tell your mom was pissed - she wasn’t one to be walked over. But for your sake, she didn’t push it.

“I…” Mrs Harrington began. “I’m…sorry, about him.”

Her words caught you off guard. Even Steve was surprised. He’d never heard her speak against his father before. She pulled Steve into a hug, holding him tight.

“I’m proud of you, son. You’re going to be a great father.”

Steve held her back, the emotions in the room now even more heightened, but not in the way they had been before Steve’s father left. This was better. This was love.

Steve held you tightly when you were on the way out the door with your parents. “I’ll come pick you up this weekend and we’ll move. Well, I’ll move. You can sit and look pretty while telling me where things go.”

Pretty?

“Okay,” you giggled, ignoring that part of what he said. “Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

—

Saturday, it was moving time. Just about everyone was pitching in to help - Steve’s mom, your parents, Tommy and Carol. Steve and Tommy carried the couch in and sat it in the living room, and that became your command center for the rest of the day.

You sat down, aching feet up on the coffee table they brought in shortly after. You watched the bustle around you as everyone carried box after box, furniture after furniture. Steve and Tommy got into an argument trying to get the bed frame into the bedroom door, until your dad came over and showed them how to turn it.

After the main furniture was up, you were able to get up and start decorating. You had been longing to nest, body itching to get ready for the baby. It was instinctual, all you could think about was preparing for this baby.

Everyone brought in the boxes from the baby shower. You set up in the nursery with Carol while everyone else finished up.

“We’re getting Steve and Tommy to figure this out,” Carol said, examining the crib manual with her nose scrunched up. “Because I have no fucking idea what this is telling me to do.”

When the rest of the furniture and boxes were moved, your parents began unpacking them while Tommy and Steve joined you and Carol.

“What is this, fuckin’, physics?” Tommy said, the instructions in his hands now. Steve snatched them from him.

“Let me see.”

An hour later and the crib still wasn’t finished, Steve and Tommy arguing every two seconds. You and Carol were opening the baby shower gifts and finding them a place in the room.

“I can’t believe how tiny these clothes are,” Carol gushed, holding them up and looking at them with heart eyes. “I want one.”

“Uh, you can forget about that one,” Tommy said.

You had asked for books instead of cards from your guests, so you had a large selection of baby books you slid onto the wall shelf. Carol cut the tags off the baby clothes and fit them onto the tiny hangers, folding the ones that went in the drawers.

When you were done, it looked like a proper nursery. The dark brown crib had a sheet on it, a personalized blanket hanging over the side. The books and clothes were put away. The stroller was in the closet, car seat ready to be installed in Steve’s car. There was a bouncer and baby swing, a collection of breastfeeding supplies, a changing table and plenty of diapers to get you started.

“Not long now,” Steve said when you were left alone in the apartment, standing in the nursery together and looking at what you’d done together. He rubbed his hand over your large belly, feeling Ellie kicking him. He smiled. He was happy.

—

“Oh my god,” Carol said, holding up a tiny frilly dress. “This is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The cashier gave her a disapproving look.

“There’s so many clothes,” you said, running your hand through the rack. “Will she need a lot of clothes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Carol said. “My little brother went through like, 5 outfits a day. Poop and throw up and all that.”

“Ugh.” You both laughed, browsing the store’s selection. There were way more baby girl clothes than baby boy clothes. But you thought about the future - maybe you’d be back one day shopping for a baby boy.

“Oh my god, look at this!” She held up another pink dress, a white bow around it. “You have to get this one. Ellie’s going to look so cute.”

The dress was extremely cute. You took it from Carol’s hands. You put it in your basket - she was right, Ellie had to have it. 

You were just looking at another section of clothes when you felt a gush between your legs.

You gasped. “Carol-!”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Did what I think just happened just happen?”

“I-I think so,” you said. “But it’s early. It’s too early.”

“You’re 35 weeks right??”

“Yes.” You bent over as a strong contraction wracked through your body. You breathed out a rush of air, groaning as you held onto the rack with one hand and your belly with the other.

That’s when you noticed the blood. A lot of it.

The cashier came rushing over to you. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

You nodded, words unable to come with the amount of pain you were in, the fear struck deep into your chest. Carol was panicking.

The woman ran back to the phone and called 911, while Carol helped you find a place to sit. You sat on the chair, but quickly realized that wasn’t helping at all. You stood and began pacing, doing your breathing exercises like you’d learned in class. Tears streamed down your face, not from the pain, but from the pure horror, the fear that your baby wouldn’t be okay.

When the paramedics arrived, they got you on the stretcher immediately and prepared to rush you to the hospital. Carol jumped in the back with you, holding your hand.

“Hey. You’re doing great. You’re doing so good. Everything’s gonna be okay. We’ll call Steve at the hospital, okay? Then he’ll be there and the doctors can help you and everything will be fine.” Carol was rambling, her hand shaking in yours.

At the hospital you were brought upstairs immediately, changed into a gown and hooked up to monitors. Your blood pressure was still high and you were still

bleeding. They rushed an ultrasound machine into the room, beginning the exam as Carol called Steve.

“Steve?” Carol said into the phone. “She- she’s in labor. Yes, I’m sure. We know it’s early. There’s…there’s a lot of blood. We’re already at the hospital. Okay. By-“ She put the phone down. “He’s on his way. He hung up on me.”

Carol was helping you through your breathing exercises, trying to keep you calm as much as she could. You could tell she was freaked out, but she was being a good friend. The best, really.

The doctors finished their exam and determined you had experienced placental abruption.

“This is very, very serious,” the doctor said. “We’re going to prepare you for a C-section now.”

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want any of this. You had spent so long preparing for birth, preparing your pain management exercises and everything for the natural birth of your dreams. But anything to give Ellie the best chance of survival. You were getting woozy from the blood loss.

“Wait,” you said weakly as they put a cap over your hair and prepared to rush you to the OR. “Steve-“

“We have to take you for surgery right now,” one of the nurses said. “I don’t want to alarm you, but this is very serious. We can’t wait for anyone.”

You started crying again. None of this was happening the way you’d hoped. As they wheeled you out into the hall, you heard footsteps running down the hall. You turned your head, relieved to see a panicked Steve rushing to your side, still dressed in his nice clothes from work.

“I’m here,” he said, grabbing your hand. “I’m here.”

“Sir, we’re taking her for an emergency C-section right now,” the nurse said. “Someone will get you some scrubs and you can meet us in there.”

Steve reluctantly watched them take you, feeling helpless as he was left behind.

You were still out of it as they brought you into the freezing cold operating room, moving you onto the metal table covered in a sheet. There was a curtain separating your chest from the rest of your body, preventing you from seeing what was going on.

They put an oxygen mask on you and administered medication into your IV. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t feel anything below your arms anymore. Your vision was hazy, and all of a sudden you weren’t worried about anything anymore.

Steve rushed into the room dressed in hospital scrubs with a hair cap matching yours. The fear in his eyes was evident, and they were red as if he’d been crying. “Sweetheart,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead and holding your hand. “I’m here. Everything is gonna be okay. The doctors are gonna help you and Ellie is gonna be here in our arms soon, healthy and beautiful.” It wasn’t clear who he was trying to convince.

You were out of it, not feeling a thing as they made the incision. Steve was freaking out, his hand shaking where it held one of yours that was strapped down. It felt like it was only seconds before the sound of crying filled the room.

Steve huffed a disbelieving breath, a smile on his face as he cried and looked at the tiny little baby with complete awe. The nurses cleaned her up, checking her out to make sure she was okay. She was so tiny, wiggling and crying. You had never seen something so small, so delicate.

The nurse wrapped her in a hospital blanket, putting a soft cap on her head full of brown hair. She brought her over to you and Steve as the doctors continued working on you, trying to stop the bleeding unbeknownst to you.

Steve took her from the nurse’s arms with all the gentleness of a brand new dad. He was shaking as he pushed the blanket down slightly to uncover her angelic face. Her eyes were closed, content in her father’s arms. He leaned over and held her down for you to see.

“Look,” Steve said gently. “Look what we did.”

You couldn’t stop the tears as you saw your daughter for the first time. She was perfect. Chubby little cheeks, pouty lips, button nose. She looked like the perfect mix of you and Steve.

“Hi, Ellie,” you whispered, your voice weak. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve chuckled, a tear escaping from his eye and rolling down his cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Perfect.”

—

Elizabeth Louise Harrington was born healthy, 6 lbs 7 oz. She only needed a short time in the nicu before they discharged her. You spent every waking moment in a wheelchair by her bassinet, holding and rocking her, taking turns with Steve, who was there the second he got off work.

Your mom was the first one to visit. She had hurried to the hospital as soon as Carol called her to tell her what had happened. She cried, a lot. But when she held her granddaughter in her arms, everything in the world was right.

Your dad came after work, smiling down at the tiny bundle in his wife’s arms. He put a hand on your shoulder, and looked at Steve. “You did good, kids.”

Steve’s mom was there shortly after. She cooed at the tiny baby, walking around the room and rocking her like a total natural. It may have been 18 years since she’d done this, but her instinct never left. His father never came.

That evening, once both of your parents had left, Tommy and Carol came over. “Oh my goddd!” Carol squealed quietly, coming over to you with her arms outstretched. “Let Auntie Carol see that perfect baby.”

Carol sat next to you on the bed as you handed the baby to her. She was so gentle as she took Ellie into her arms, bouncing her softly and cooing. “Look at you, pretty girl. Gonna be just as beautiful as your mama.”

Tommy took a seat on the room’s couch next to Steve. “Congrats, man,” he said, slapping Steve on the back.

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly.

“How do you like being a dad?”

Steve looked over at you, Ellie, and Carol on the bed, and he smiled. His chest felt warm and fuzzy, his heart soaring. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They let you both go home from the hospital a week later. Steve took a week off of work to help you out, but that’s all his dad was willing to give him. You tucked Ellie safely into her car seat, buckling her in safely. Steve was so paranoid about hurting her.

The nurse pushed you out of the hospital in a wheelchair while Steve carried the baby carrier to his car. He hooked it into the backseat, and helped you climb into the back next to her. You weren’t ready to let her ride back there alone yet.

Steve drove home at a snail’s pace. The other cars on the road honked at you, but Steve didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his girls home safely.

He carried the carrier in one hand while he helped you walk your sore body into the apartment with his other. He got you comfortable on the couch before taking a sleeping Ellie out of her seat. He bounced her gently as he walked around the room.

It was so strange to be here, in this home, with your family. Your family, the one you created. Steve, and the baby girl you’d created together.

Only you and Steve weren’t together.

Steve hadn’t talked about girls at all since you’d been pregnant. You had taken his full attention. But what about when he decided he wanted to date again? How would you handle that? The thought filled you with dread.

Because you were starting to feel something for Steve that scared you.

You spent the first week home on the couch mostly. Steve brought you everything you needed, while helping you move a little more each day. You were still so sore from surgery, but you were determined to be ready to care for Ellie on your own when Steve went back to work.

Steve’s first diaper change had been an experience. He gagged, being dramatic as hell while you watched on and laughed. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, bud.”

“This is foul. How does such a tiny little thing poop so much?”

You had a newborn photo shoot scheduled 2 weeks after you came home. You dressed Ellie in a tiny dress, you and Steve dressing in matching nice clothes.

“Okay, mom and dad,” the photographer said. “Why don’t you get close and hold her between you?”

Steve moved close to you, holding Ellie between your bodies. The sleeping newborn cradled perfectly in your arms together, the photos were taken. You had chills at the proximity. You found that you liked being close to Steve. You liked it a lot.

That night, you got Ellie settled and laid her down in her crib. You were exhausted, as you always were these days. “I’m ready for bed,” you told Steve, yawning big.

“Me too,” he said. “Go on and get ready and I’ll be in soon.”

Since the apartment only had two bedrooms, you and Steve had agreed to share the bed. It was purely platonic, of course, even though you often woke up with Steve’s arm wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck as he snored lightly. You never moved him when that happened.

After you’d had a shower and gotten in bed, Steve came and did the same before joining you. You both drifted off to sleep so fast, as you always did these days.

It was 3am when you were woken by the baby monitor. You picked it up, seeing Ellie fussing. You sighed - you never minded taking care of her, but you were just so tired tonight. You were getting up when Steve stopped you.

“I got it,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m sure. Get some rest, please.”

You watched Steve leave, wondering how you got so lucky.

Steve went into the nursery, scooping a crying Ellie from her crib. “Hi, baby girl,” he said quietly. “Are you hungry? Let’s go warm you up a bottle.”

You had a supply of pumped milk so Steve could feed her, too. He went into the kitchen with the baby in his arms, making the bottle one handed like a pro. He settled into the recliner and rocked as he fed the bottle to Ellie, who was snuggled against his shirtless chest.

He was so sleepy, but he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

A month into her life, Ellie started crying constantly. It was like there was nothing you could do to calm her. It broke your heart to see her so upset, like she was in pain. Steve was stressing out hard.

“What do we do??” he asked, pacing and running his hands through his hair. “What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she calm down?”

A trip to the doctor later, Ellie had a diagnosis of colic. You were basically told there was nothing you could do, it was just something that had to run its course. Nevertheless, you both put your all into trying to make her feel better. Making sure she burped well after eating, giving her gas drops, walking the hall with her at night for hours until she finally fell asleep. Steve never once complained. He was so devoted to his daughter, it made your chest ache with love.

Love.

One of those nights, when Ellie was 7 weeks old and after she had finally fallen asleep, you and Steve collapsed on the couch, exhausted. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You okay?” he asked you quietly.

“Yeah,” you said. “What about you?”

“I’m good. I’m happy.” He smiled down at you. “I know this is hard, but I love being a dad. I love my girl. Both of my girls.”

There was that word again. Love.

“Steve,” you started, sitting up on the couch and turning to face him as you talked. “What do you want for your future?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“Like, what do you want? Where do you want to be?”

“I want to be right here,” he said easily.

“No, but, you know what I mean. For the future. Do you want to get married to someone? Have more kids?”

Steve smiled. “Definitely. I want a big family.”

“Yeah? Even after all this?” you laughed sleepily.

“Of course. I want like, six kids.”

“Jesus.”

Steve laughed. “And…I don’t want to marry ‘someone’.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You don’t want to get married?”

“No, I mean, of course I do.” He seemed flustered, something you didn’t see from him often. “I just…it’s someone in particular.”

Your heart sunk. Nancy, you thought. He had never gotten over her. He was still in love with Nancy.

“You. I want to marry you.”

You froze. You were sure you were just hearing things, going crazy from the lack of sleep and hearing the things you wanted to hear. He had not just said that. “What?” you said, the only thing you could think to say.

“I…” He leaned forward, placing his hand on the side of your face so you were looking at him. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

You gaped at him like an idiot. “Steve…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…I’ve been waiting for the right moment for months, and I just-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips onto his.

Steve wasted no time in kissing you back, pulling you closer to him, closer and closer until you were straddling his lap as his arms wrapped around you and your lips worked together. You moaned against his lips, which drove Steve absolutely crazy.

He put his hands on your ass, grinding you against his lap. He was hard already, like he wanted you bad. Hell, you wanted him just as bad. He groaned into your mouth as your tongues started working together, his hands sliding up and down your body and feeling every part of you.

“God, you-“ he said, totally breathless and pupils blown wide in lust. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

That was hard to believe, especially when he’d been so head over heels for Nancy, who in your mind was so much prettier and better than you. But you could tell he was telling the truth.

“I love you,” you said between kisses, finally saying the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for months and months. “I love you. I love you.”

Steve groaned and held you even closer, his erection pressing up against you. It made you impossibly wet, grinding down onto him. You’d only had sex the one time in your life, and you’d thought about it every day since it happened.

“Can I take you to the room?” Steve asked, his voice low as he toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Our room?”

“Yes,” you told him, wanting nothing more.

He lifted you up with little effort, carrying you into the bedroom while you wrapped your arms and legs around him. He carefully laid you down on the bed, careful of your stitches. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor before crawling over you still in his pajama pants.

He kissed all over your neck, making you whine, pulling slightly on his hair which made him groan. His hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, pushing it up and up until he took it completely off. You immediately covered your body up with your arms.

“Baby…” Steve murmured. “What are you doing?”

“I just…” you let out a breath. “My body is a lot different than the last time you saw it.”

Steve looked almost hurt. “Baby. You are beautiful. You carried and birthed my child. You could not be any hotter to me.”

Steve’s words almost had you tearing up, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You slowly lowered your arms, revealing your body to him. True to his word, Steve looked at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes.

He kissed all over your body, your stomach, your chest, your neck, your lips. He was worshipping your body, loving every single part of it. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He started kissing down your body, down between your legs, but you stopped him. “I just want you,” you said, your voice coming out more whiney and pleading than you meant.

Steve smirked. He pulled your pants and panties off the rest of the way. “Well, you have me.”

He pushed his own pants and boxers down, his large election springing free. He was even more massive than you remembered from your drunken night together. It was intimidating.

Steve kissed you on the lips again, a slow, loving, sensual kiss. You felt his tip at your entrance as he rubbed it between your folds, getting his cock nice and wet. “Are you ready?” he asked you, so quiet. You nodded.

He pushed inside, the stretch taking your breath away. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he set a slow pace, his face buried in your neck as he groaned in pleasure. “Jesus,” he moaned. “You are so tight. Feels so good.”

“You’re…huge, Steve,” you whined, making him chuckle breathlessly.

“Is it okay? Is it too much? Should I stop?”

“No, no,” you said quickly. “Keep going. Please.”

Steve obeyed, rocking his hips into you at a slightly

faster pace. The old bed creaked lightly beneath your movements, the headboard knocking into the wall. “Fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “God. I’m not gonna last long. It’s been so long, and you feel like heaven. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned, back arching as he hit that bundle of nerves deep inside. “Feels good. Keep going just like that.”

He intertwined your fingers together above your head, his left hand holding onto your hip. He thrusted into you faster, faster, faster, making the hottest, most sinful noises as he neared release.

“I’m getting close,” he said, hips snapping against you. “Oh, fuck.” He readjusted so he had a hand to lean on while the other dipped between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“Oh!” you moaned at the sudden feeling, pussy clenching around Steve’s cock and making him let out the most pathetic whimper.

“Jesus- Jesus Christ,” he said, breathless. “You’re killin’ me.”

“I’m really close, Steve,” you whined, writhing under him. “Really close.”

“Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Let me feel it. Make a mess all on my cock for me.”

Your lips parted in a gasp, eyes rolling back as an orgasm crashed into you. Your pussy clenched around his cock tightly, and Steve cried out, his hips stuttering into you. The second you came down from your orgasm he pulled out, jerking his cock a couple times before he shot ropes of his cum all over your stomach and tits, groaning as he watched. He came so much, covering you in it.

He admired his work for a few seconds as he caught his breath. He had never seen anything hotter. When he was finally back to earth, he hopped off the bed and ran into the attached bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay,” you said with a giggle. “That was hot.”

Once you were cleaned up, he collapsed into the bed with you, both still naked. Wrapping his arm around you, he pulled you close into him, spooning you and snuggling his face into the back of your neck.

“I love you,” he said. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve. So much.”

—

Things found their version of normal eventually. It helped when you could start getting out of the house with Ellie, just getting some fresh air and seeing the outside world. Carol came over a lot, so it wasn’t like you had been totally lonely, but there’s nothing like going out in public.

Ellie was 5 months old. You and Steve had been officially together for 4ish months, and it was going amazing. You had never been happier. You had driven yourself and Ellie to Bradley’s Big Buy on your own for the first time since her birth.

“You wanna ride in the cart?” you asked her, earning a big grin from the baby even though she had no idea what you’d said. You settled her into the front of the cart - taking the time to disinfect it with wipes first. Ellie held onto the bar as you pushed her into the store.

Bread…milk…pasta…dish soap…diapers.

You began grabbing the things you needed, Ellie totally amazed at the world around her. It was adorable to see. But just as you grabbed the bread and were about to leave the aisle, you nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t-“

Nancy.

You froze, just staring at her. She looked different. She had a perm now, and it really suited her. She looked beautiful as she always did.

“It’s…it’s okay,” she said, her eyes roaming to Ellie in the cart. Ellie smiled big at her, and Nancy couldn’t help but return it.

“How…how have you been?” you asked her, unsure if she wanted to talk to you at all.

“Oh. I’ve been good. I got a job at the newspaper. Me and Jonathan just got an apartment together.” She smiled gently.

“That’s great,” you said, and you meant it. You were happy to see her doing well, to see her happy. “I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “How- how are you?”

You were surprised she asked. “I’m doing well. Recovered from surgery now and everything. Ellie’s doing fantastic.”

“I’m really happy to hear that,” she said, and she seemed genuine. “I heard it was a rough birth.”

“Yeah.” Ellie reached for you, and you grabbed her hand, letting her wrap her tiny fingers around yours. “But, you know, it was worth it. To have her.”

Nancy nodded. “I’m sure.” A pause. “How’s Steve?”

“He’s great. Working for his dad now.” You debated whether to continue. “We, uh…we’ve been together for about 4 months now.”

“Oh,” she said. She didn’t seem upset, like she had expected that. “I’m happy for you both. Steve’s…he’s a good guy.”

You smiled. “Yeah. He is.”

There was a moment of silence between you before Nancy shook her head. “Well. I need to get going, I’m just picking up lunch for the staff. It was…it was good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Nance.”

She gave you a polite smile before pushing her cart off. You watched her go, her curly hair disappearing into another aisle.

You weren’t sure what to make of the interaction. She certainly didn’t seem like she hated you anymore. But you knew you would never be friends again, and that part broke your heart.

Maybe there was progress to be made.

—

Life with Steve and Ellie was wonderful. Steve was an amazing dad- the best. He was also an amazing boyfriend. He made you feel loved and cherished, safe and cared for.

He worked with Ellie every day, first down on the floor with her for tummy time, then once she mastered that and grew older, he did his best to teach her how to crawl.

“You know, I crawled backwards as a baby,” he said randomly one day.

“Huh?”

“It’s true,” he said. “I just…” He held his hands up and mimicked crawling backwards.

You laughed hard. “That is so Steve.”

“What does that mean??”

At Christmas, he went all out. He spoiled her as much as he could afford, even though he knew she wouldn’t remember a thing about it or even understand it. Christmas day Steve was the one to wake you up bright and early- “It’s Christmas!!!”

You drank some coffee, taking pictures while Steve sat on the floor with Ellie, helping her open her presents. She was delighted with everything she opened, and you and Steve had a blast watching her enjoy Christmas.

Her first birthday party was a whole occasion, too. It was at the Harrington’s, since they had so much space. Even Steve’s dad softened in the presence of Ellie Harrington. Steve cried when everyone sang her happy birthday.

When you had been together for a year, Steve asked your mom to babysit so he could take you out for dinner to celebrate your anniversary. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, but told you to dress fancy.

You wore a red dress that hugged your curves in the most perfect way. Steve nearly started drooling when he saw you. But you felt the same way about him, dressed up nice.

He took you to Enzo’s, a place you’d never been. “Get anything you want,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about the price tonight.”

You tried your best to ignore the exorbitant prices as you scanned the menu, eventually deciding on a chicken alfredo. The food was delicious, you practically moaned when you took your first bite.

“I would order us some wine, but I get the feeling they won’t fall for my fake ID here,” Steve said, making you laugh. You drank sparkling water instead, still in the fancy spirit.

After dinner you shared a piece of chocolate cake. You speared a bite onto your fork and held it out to Steve, who happily opened his mouth to let you feed it to him before he did the same to you. You giggled, feeling both very grown up and also like a couple of kids.

After you finished dessert, you were full. You were ready to get the check and head home back to Ellie when Steve spoke up, saying your name.

“Baby,” he said. “I…I wanted to ask you something.”

You looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

He reached into his pocket, then stood. When he got down on one knee, you gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, the tears falling already.

He said your full name, looking deep into your eyes as he opened the box, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you’d ever laid eyes on. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes yes yes.”

Steve smiled as he slipped the ring onto your finger - a perfect fit. He stood and pulled you into a kiss as the entire restaurant clapped for you - a literal dream come true.

Forever with the love of your life.

Stay tuned for the sequel baby daddy series!!

tag list

@crispystarfishhottub @luveediary @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @melaninjhs @talkativecarnation @cherrypieyourface @lanalosty0uu @rubythornexxx @meeuhsworld

[riverns]

⟡ werewolf shauna ( x caretaker f!reader )

genre: sfw + nsfw towards end warnings: mdni, g!p shauna, sub!reader, purposeful low caps, this is mostly season 1 shauna coded, jackie mention, breeding

⟢ werewolf!shauna who was on suppressants before the crash, so was pretty good at hiding it. of course, every whole moon she had to stay home, but, otherwise, no one knew, not even jackie. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who had only entirely transformed one time before the crash, and swore she would never do it again, solely because of how painful it was ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to shave daily ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to eat 2x more meat than the average person to stay healthy. her mom is tired of buying so much meat, she's joked about just moving to a farm or something ⟢ werewolf!shauna whose secret got out after the crash. ( you could say the wolf got out of the.... yeah nevermind ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who feels you're the only person she can trust to watch over her during full moons "fuck- y/n, go- go outside, please." she would plead, curling up into the corner, the attic creaking under her shifting, growing weight. her hands- which, resembled more of claws right now- were covering her eyes, as if she couldn't stand to look at you. "no, shauna, i'm here for you, whether you like it or not." you'd say from your corner, your voice somewhat shaky. shauna couldn't blame you for that, it wasn't every day you saw your teammate growing a mane of hair, a long, bushy tail and ears from the top of her head.

⟢ werewolf!shauna who grows protective over you after you show that you are a helpful caregiver to her. she's always by your side, giving you princess treatment for even the smallest acts. need to take out the shit bucket? she's coming with you and walking in front of you to make sure you don't trip, using her enhanced night-vision to scope out any pesky roots ⟢ werewolf!shauna who produces more heat than other people. she lets you and jackie cuddle with her at night, but no one else. ( she's always big-spooning you ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who- as she stays out in the wilderness longer, realizes that being in her half-shifted form is much more comfortable than being fully or not at all shifted. the girls eventually get used to her tail, even though she has to watch where she wags it ⟢ werewolf!shauna who brings you bones after she butchers something. sometimes, she chews on them when she feels pent up, but usually, they're more of a thank you for you nsfw under cut

⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a menace when she's approaching a rut. she becomes snappy, spends more time running around in the woods, and gets hungry much faster than usual, which is already really fast. not to mention how clingy she gets with you. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has an oral fixation, especially towards her rut or when she's in rut. if she isn't chewing on a bone, she's nibbling at your neck, kissing you hungrily, or - her favorite - sucking your tits until she falls asleep ⟢ werewolf!shauna who needs to breed you. the poor puppy gets excited so easily, even if she can just see your arms, legs, or a little inch of your waist- she's hard. she's constantly daydreaming about filling you with her pups ⟢ werewolf!shauna who when she gets the chance, is pinning you down or against something virtually anywhere. she isn't aware of her own strength, and can accidentally hurt you when she gets riled up ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is so talkative when she's fucking you. oh yeah, she doesn't moan, but she whimpers and grunts into your ears. "you're g'na be such a pretty mama" "fuck, you're s'hot- thank you- fuck-" "gonna fill you with m'pups" ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a slut for praise. call her dog/puppy/mutt and she's already whimpering at your feet, begging for affection

a/n: this is very inspired by @alwxyswlw 's werewolf shauna works, so please give them some luv!! nyway, let me know if you guys want more of werewolf shauna i love writing her :3

[ekkkkey]

vestal (chapter I)

summary: Livia, a young Vestal Virgin, is bound to Vesta’s eternal flame and the vow of sacred duty. In Rome, it’s common knowledge; touch a Vestal, and the wrath of the gods will descend upon you. But what if someone dares to defy that rule?

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon, violence, blood

tags: caracalla is a freak, darkfic, no softboys here

word count: ~3k

"No vow of chastity or sacred duty could restrain him who deemed himself a god, for he believed himself above the laws that bind mere mortals."

-Decimus Rufus, Gods Among Men: The Erosion of Roman Law.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

"This is wrong!" Livia protested, though her outrage came more from personal feeling than from a desire to argue with her mentor. "There are countless priests for that!"

Caesonia, her sworn sister, was ten years older, but always so gentle and easy to talk to that Livia could be honest with her. As long as no one else found out.

"You know how things are," Caesonia said, her voice flat with boredom as she absentmindedly smoothed an invisible wrinkle on her snow-white tunic, making it clear that the matter was settled. "The emperors want to win back the people’s love, and what does the crowd love more than the games?"

"Let them win it without us! Only love for the immortal gods and my homeland make me happy, not mortals who crave power over everything!" She didn’t even understand why she was so passionately opposed, but she couldn’t hold back her fiery outburst.

"Careful, sister," Caesonia warned, her brow furrowing. "You speak of sacred love, but the fathers of Rome are sacred too. Besides, love comes in many forms. Doesn’t love for your family, your loved ones, mean anything to you?"

Livia flinched, her gray eyes drifting into the distance, her lips trembling.

"I don’t know that kind of love," she replied quietly. "I loved my father, my sisters, but that love doesn’t compare to what I feel for the great teachings of Vesta. My father, my mother, my sister—they’re all gone, gone forever, and the gods are eternal. Immortal."

Caesonia sighed deeply, rising from her seat. She tucked her chestnut curls behind her ears and walked over to Livia, gently taking her hands and looking straight into her eyes.

"You didn’t grieve properly, I understand…"

"I don’t need grief," Livia cut in quickly, though her voice trembled. The older Vestal always said Livia was too emotional and fiery. "I only need repentance and service."

"Then serve! The Emperor is the embodiment of Jupiter, Rome itself. And now we have two of them—twice the work, right?" she giggled. Livia, giving in, smiled in response. "Or should I say, the embodiment of Romulus and Remus?"

They were alike in one thing only—both greedy children, far from the greatness of their famed ancestors. And yet, they’re emperors, which makes them the fathers of all living in Rome.

Livia didn’t love the world of mortals, didn’t like leaving the villa or the temple, just as she didn’t enjoy being in large crowds. Until now, the emperors had cared little for the Vestals. They had always dealt with uprisings and discontent with bloodshed, needing no help from them. But now… everything had changed.

The famous and beloved Lucilla, daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius, had adopted the current emperors, showing her favor. Why and for what, no one knew, and even if they did, they wouldn’t say, knowing how the emperors dealt with loose tongues.

Lucilla was now their mother, General Acacius was replaced by Fulvius Plautianus, who had served under Septimius Severus and was known for his brutal temper, and the Senate was filled with all kinds of scoundrels and sycophants. Livia, like the other Vestals, did not involve herself in politics, but she knew a lot, listening to the gossip of the wives of high-ranking officials who came to make offerings.

"Offer a prayer to Vesta, to Jupiter, anoint yourself with sacred blood, and the priest will tell them what they so desperately want to hear," Caesonia continued. "Then the games will pass, and we’ll return to the temple. It’s an honor, Livia, not a punishment. You’re young, not even fully trained, and yet you drew the lot!"

She really had drawn the short straw when it came time for her and the other sisters to decide who would make a sacrifice to the gods.

"Rituals should remain sacred," Livia replied, less confidently now, not really expecting an answer.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

The first day of the games marked the start of autumn, right in the midst of the festival season, and the city hummed with excitement. The last games had been only recently, but after a string of executions, deaths, and tortures, people were desperate for something lighter. And really, what’s more entertaining than watching someone else die?

Draped in a flowing, snow-white tunic, Livia walked alongside the other Vestals, surrounded by stern-faced Praetorian guards, as they arrived at the Colosseum just as the sun hit its peak, bathing everything in blinding white light.

The crowd showered them with lilies and narcissus, desperate for a glimpse of the sacred priestesses. There were five of them—the sixth had stayed behind to tend the sacred fire. Usually, that was Livia’s role, but today, her duty was different.

She couldn’t hide her awe at the sight before her—flowers scattered everywhere, a roaring sea of people, thousands of voices merging into one. As they passed through the gates and reached the stands, she noticed the shift. These weren’t the same poor and desperate souls who had thrown flowers at her feet. Here, the crowd was wealthier, brighter, draped in a riot of colors and excessive finery.

To her displeasure, Livia understood that in this sea of bright hues and mixed fashions, there was a lack of respect for Roman customs, a disregard encouraged by the emperors, who, by all accounts, dressed quite unusually themselves.

"Over here, Livia," a priest, old and dry as parchment, took her hand, gently pulling her away from the others as they hurried to their designated seats. She turned her head, watching them go.

From a distance, their small platform gleamed—four pristine white figures, dazzling against the chaos of color. It made her smile.

The priest’s grip was light, his skin thin and fragile. He was the only man allowed to touch the Vestals, for he himself was not a man in the eyes of the people, but a vessel of the divine.

When they led her onto the arena floor, the sun blinded her. A thin white veil covered her face, a flower crown resting on her head, and beyond the sheer fabric, the world was hazy. She barely saw the thousands of faces watching her, barely heard the deafening roar of the crowd. Only the scorching heat of the sand beneath her bare feet felt real.

The drums beat. The noise swelled. The herald called out—she didn’t hear what he said. Instead, she lifted her face toward the sun, whispering a prayer under her breath, over and over.

"It is time, child," the priest said, removing her crown and veil. Her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders, but her gaze remained fixed on the sky. That’s where her true audience watched.

A primal, animalistic scream made her flinch. She finally lowered her face and looked around. Through the central gates leading to the arena, they brought in a massive white bull. The beast was so enormous that six burly men, their faces hidden behind golden masks, struggled to hold it.

The majestic creature tossed its horned head and bellowed loudly, frightened by the crowd. She was scared too, but she didn’t move. Instead, she took the crown from the priest’s hands, waiting as they led the bull closer.

"Behold our sacrifice, Jupiter!" the priest calls loudly, not in the voice of an old man, raising his hands to the sky. Several young boys are gathered nearby, holding a cup and a crooked bronze dagger.

They lead the bull to the center of the arena, forcing it to bow its head, tightening the thick cords around its neck. The animal freezes. Livia does, too, staring directly into its frightened black eyes. Its horns are coated in gold to honor the gods, so with each turn of its neck, they gleam and shimmer.

Slowly, she takes a few steps forward, and the stands fall silent, the rumble quiets, and the drums cease.

Such beauty, such strength—all for the glory of the gods. They love beauty, and they love when the blood of such magnificent creatures is spilled in their name. Back when human sacrifices were still allowed, beautiful, innocent youths and maidens were offered to the gods. Livia only tilted her head in sympathy, silently thanking the animal.

"In ancient times, I could have been in your place."

Her hands tremble slightly, but not from fear; it’s the solemnity of the moment. She was wrong to resist, wrong to argue with her mentor, because now she is living the best moment of her young life.

The black eyes meet hers, gray, and she could swear that these are not the eyes of an animal, but of a human! The bull no longer struggles; on the contrary, it stands still, bowing its head. Solemnly, she places the crown between its golden horns, kneels before it, bending her hands in prayer and closing her eyes.

The beginning of the ritual is marked by the continuous beat of the drums and the priest’s loud prayer. The emperors want to wage war again, to enslave more and more countries and peoples, and now, armed with a fearsome general, they await the gods’ blessing. That’s why she is here, and that’s why blood will be spilled today.

"What do you ask of the gods, amata?" the priest calls out, raising his hands to the sky.

Not opening her eyes or lowering her hands, she shouts as loud as she can in response:

"For blessing, for victory, for the greatness of Rome!"

The drums pounded like a storm, the bull let out a mournful cry, and she kept whispering her prayer, even as her heart pounded harder, even as a terrible unease settled in her stomach.

A moment. A sound—low and guttural.

And then, warmth. Hot liquid splashed over her, soaking her from head to toe. She knew what it was. This was why she knelt—to be anointed, to receive the gods’ answer, to be purified.

The thick, metallic scent filled her nose. Blood stung her eyes, slid down her face, dripped from her lips. It filled her mouth with every breath, stuck in her throat like a swallowed scream. But she didn’t stop. She whispered through bloodied lips, through the deafening drumbeats, until the very last word of her prayer left her tongue.

A bright flash illuminated her, though her eyes were closed, and she saw light—brilliant, beckoning. A good omen. The gods had accepted the sacrifice.

The priest leans down to her, and she whispers the good news to him, and he hoarsely repeats it to the entire Colosseum. The crowd, frozen in eager anticipation, bursts into cheers.

Livia rises to her feet, wiping her face. The blood has already begun to dry, pulling at her skin uncomfortably. The bull lies lifeless at her feet, its black eyes frozen forever. Part of it will be burned as an offering to the gods, and part will be cooked and eaten at the feast after the games. The thought of how it had looked at her with such intelligent eyes makes her sick. She quickly turns away, facing the imperial box, adorned with vines, flowers, and purple banners.

Both emperors raise their right hands in greeting, and the crowd erupts in cheers. How fickle people are! Not long ago, they wanted to tear their rulers apart, and now they celebrate them like divine saviors.

As she leaves the arena, the last thing she sees is the bull’s body being dragged through the opposite gates, a trail of blood smearing across the burning sand. A strange, uneasy feeling grips her, but she pushes it down, too shaken to dwell on it.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

They let her wash her hands and face, change into a clean tunic, but her dark curls, now stiff and heavy with dried blood, still reek of iron and death. She tucks them beneath her veil and hurries back to her place among the other Vestals.

The row where the Vestals sit stands out as a white line among the dressed-up guests. Their platform is on the left side of the imperial box. Livia sits to the right of the senior vestal and keeps her eyes fixed on the imperial box, even though the first fight has already begun. How could she not stare? She’s never been so close to those who rule the world.

Both of her sisters were married to senators, and she doesn’t know either of their husbands. But the Senate was one thing. This was something else entirely.

The emperors are strikingly young. Livia leaned forward slightly, eager to get a better look. The one sitting closest to her taps nervously on the golden armrest with his thin white fingers. Red-haired and pale, he doesn’t give off an impression of greatness or awe. Painted like a maiden, dressed the same. Livia doesn’t accept long garments on men; she sees it as a sign of effeminacy and a betrayal of traditions. A toga would have been more fitting for a man in her view, but then again, these are not just men.

He sat in profile, so no matter how much Livia strained her neck, she couldn’t make out his face. In another fit of curiosity, she rose slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ruler’s face, but immediately found herself facing the mocking gaze of blue eyes. From behind his brother’s shoulder, the second emperor looked at her, leaning in and smiling shamelessly.

Embarrassment floods her, and Livia sits up straight, closes her eyes, cursing herself for her tactlessness and curiosity. She rarely takes an interest in other people, even less often men, so the very fact that she got caught staring, right after having just shown all of Rome the will of the gods, stings her deeply. She liked that the people treated the Vestals with awe and reverence, but in the emperor’s smile, she saw neither respect nor awe, only mockery.

"I’ll introduce you to the emperors later, behave properly," the senior vestal instructs her sternly, and Livia lowers her head in shame.

Today, there weren’t many killings; the festival shouldn’t be tarnished by too many deaths, so the games ended quickly. They were escorted into the halls inside the Colosseum, and as they walked slowly, still surrounded by the Praetorian guards, the crowd parted before them, eyeing them and whispering. The last time the Vestals had appeared at the games was under Marcus Aurelius, so their appearance was truly a momentous event for all of Rome.

"Raise your head, child, here are our rulers," her mentor commanded, and Livia obediently looked ahead.

Their arrival was met with a swell of voices, loud exclamations ringing through the air.

The first of the two, the one she had noticed in the stands, was tall and stately, but no warrior. His features were fine and well-defined, his dark eyes sharp with intelligence, but the set of his full lips betrayed a restless, nervous nature. A golden laurel nestled in the soft waves of his reddish curls, and his slender frame was draped in a black trabea trimmed with deep purple. Beneath it, a long tunic of the same black, embroidered with gold, shimmered in the light. He looked more like an eastern king than a Roman emperor. She didn’t like him.

While she was studying one of the emperors, the other had already been studying her. She could feel his gaze like a touch, sharp and deliberate. Quickly, she turned to face him.

Oh, he was nothing like his brother.

Shorter, narrower in the shoulders, he moved with a slow, fluid grace, completely at ease. Livia tilted her head slightly, and he mirrored the gesture with an amused glint in his eye. Was he teasing her?

Livia knew that fashion required women to whiten their faces and paint their eyelids, and appearing without blush was considered bad taste—but she had never seen a painted man before. The first emperor’s lids were dusted with a soft, ashy gray, subtle but noticeable. The second’s bright blue eyes were rimmed with warm peach, a color so vivid against his pale skin that it caught her off guard. A shade she had never seen on a man.

He wore a short-sleeved tunic of rich purple, cinched at the waist with a wide golden belt. Her gaze caught on the huge gold medallion hanging from his white neck down to his chest. The sign of Fortuna, the goddess of luck. Did he even understand its meaning? Judging by the many rings and bracelets that gleamed along his fingers and wrists, she doubted it.

Finally, the Praetorians parted, and they, along with the other Vestals, stood face to face with the emperors. The tall one bent slightly and extended his hand, as if expecting the senior Vestal to offer her hand for a kiss. Livia couldn’t help but smirk. Vestals were forbidden to be touched by men, even by the emperor himself. Didn’t he know this?

The awkward moment was broken by the mocking laughter of the second emperor. His brother straightened up, pressed his lips together in irritation, and cast a glance first at his brother, then at them.

"We are glad that you honored us with your presence," he said loudly. His voice was deep and low, yet there were still nervous notes, as if he were anxious.

"And we are grateful for the invitation, Emperor Geta," her mentor replied with a respectful nod.

Geta.

Livia turned her gaze back to the other brother. So this was Caracalla.

"This is Livia," the senior Vestal introduced her. Livia stepped forward, her back straight as a blade, chin raised. "She brought good news to the arena today."

"I see," Caracalla finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, starkly contrasting the softness of his features.

Standing beside him, Livia noticed that the powdered skin, which had appeared so flawless from a distance, was marred by tiny wounds, some of which hadn’t healed and were hidden under layers of rouge. The emperor, sensing her gaze, immediately furrowed his pale brows and lifted his chin, wounded by the thought that she had seen his imperfections. It must be difficult to consider oneself a god when one’s earthly vessel is so far from perfect.

"Oh, that was quite a sight," Geta continued warmly, looking directly at her. His hand twitched forward as if he wanted to take her hand, but she immediately pulled away, causing another burst of laughter from Caracalla.

"You’re too kind, Caesar," she answered with measured dignity. "The scale of the spectacle was truly impressive."

"There will be a feast this evening," Geta said, nodding to her and her sisters. "Join us."

"I’m afraid we must serve at the temple, Emperor."

"What is allowed to Jupiter is not allowed to the bull," Geta quoted, hinting that, with their status, they could do much more than the common citizens of Rome.

"What is allowed to the bull, is not allowed to Jupiter," she replied, and his smile faltered. "Had he not turned into an bull, he would never have approached a defenseless maiden, would he?"

Once again, the young emperor looked wounded, unsure of what to say, helplessly turning to his smiling brother. Livia realized who he reminded her of—the sacrificial bull in the arena today. He had the same dark eyes, vivid and strangely sorrowful, but no trace of wisdom, no matter how hard she tried to look. Geta noticed she was studying him and fluttered his long eyelashes in confusion, then smiled again.

"You’re wise, though young," he tried to compliment her, smoothing over the awkward conversation.

To some, he might have seemed charming. Handsome, even. To someone who hadn’t devoted her life to the glory of Vesta.

"Thank you, Caesar."

The little show ends, and the eldest priestess steps up, leading them away with the emperors.

"They’re quite charming, aren’t they?" Caesonia says quietly, glancing at her with a smile.

Livia tensed. Curious gazes followed them from all sides, high-ranking guests watching their every move. A strange feeling crept over her—guilt. As if she had thought too harshly of her emperors. As if she had been unfair.

"Dignified and charming, yes," she answers calmly, suppressing her negative thoughts.

Order in the mind—order in the heart, and that’s how one must serve the gods. She ran her fingers under the veil, letting her dark curls slip through, trying to focus. Her hair was still soaked in blood, dry and tangled. She stared at her hand, pink from the blood stains, the smell of iron in the air.

"I mean them as men, child," the elder priestess smiles slyly.

Livia paled, a crease appeared between her brows, and her lips tightened into a line.

"You know your vows better than I do, sister," her voice rang with tension.

"Look, don’t touch, darling," the elder priestess continued, her tone unchanged. "We can admire them like beautiful trinkets. You wouldn’t scold me if I were to admire an intricately carved box, or…"

"I need to wash my hands," Livia interrupts her, causing Caesonia to laugh.

They weren’t stone, they had feelings, emotions, struggles. And desires too. Other Vestals sometimes spoke of men, but Livia had never joined in those conversations. And she wouldn’t now. Her training was ongoing, and the last thing she wanted to think about was worldly, base desires.

A bowl of water stood by one of the columns, meant for purification. Livia walked toward it, the crowd parting before her, holding their breath. She was flattered by this. Now, surrounded by gazes brimming with admiration, adoration, and quiet awe, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Later, she would ask the Goddess for forgiveness for her vanity, but for now, the young Vestal basked in the attention.

She dipped her hands into the cool water, and it immediately bloomed with pink.

"Smells like blood," a voice said behind her.

A strange sense of anxiety gripped her, and her heart began pounding so strongly that it made breathing hard. On the outside, she tried to remain calm, as always. After finishing washing her hands, she turned toward the speaker.

Emperor Caracalla was grinning wide, showing a gold tooth. It seemed the young ruler was in a great mood.

"It is blood, my Caesar."

"Watching you there, kneeling on the arena’s sand, bathed in blood, was the greatest pleasure of the day. I fear even tonight’s feast will not bring me such…delight," his voice was soft, smooth, flowing like honey, and his eyes gleamed with slyness. He was teasing her in a bold, shameless way!

When she was very young, living with her father and sisters, Cassandra and Claudia used to tease her, taking advantage of the fact that they were older. But in the emperor’s words, there was something different. Caracalla didn’t say anything outright offensive, but something about it felt improper. Was it the way he smiled, the way he stood, nonchalantly leaning his shoulder against a column?

In every movement, she sensed how utterly unserious he was—how he tilted his chin, half-closed his eyes, and stretched his painted lips into a lazy smirk.

He reminded her of a cat. The one that lived in the gardens of the Temple of Vesta, rolling from side to side, stretching out its fluffy body under the sun. That one was ginger too.

"It’s an honor to serve Rome, to serve you," he grinned wider, "And your brother," his smile immediately faded, and Livia was stunned at how quickly his expression changed.

For the first time, she was looked at with such disdain. She blinked, trying to convince herself she hadn’t imagined it. No, Caesar still stood there with a deep furrow between his brows, his nostrils flaring. Livia stepped back, unsure what had triggered his anger.

Almost as if seeking support or comfort, she turned, only to meet the black eyes of Emperor Geta. He stood at a distance, surrounded by a crowd. A beautiful copper-haired girl was speaking to him, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere, cutting through the sea of people—on her.

She faltered, then suddenly realized—this had nothing to do with her. The emperors were watching each other.

She mentally pictured herself from the outside: innocent, chaste, in white garments, she should remain dignified and focused. Livia was a priestess of Vesta, not a cunning and ambitious matron, so the emperors’ quarrels didn’t interest her.

Leaving Caracalla behind, she hurried toward the other Vestals, but was suddenly, shamelessly grabbed by the arms and pulled into an embrace. If this had been a man, they’d have been crucified in the Forum by morning, but…

"Livia, my dear!" she hardly recognizes the face of the girl in front of her.

"Claudia!" The calm mask slips from her face for a moment, and she smiles at her sister, whom she hasn’t seen in ages.

"You’ve grown so much! A real beauty! And you look just like Cassandra! Your nose, your lips, your cheekbones," Claudia’s finger traced her face, and Livia shuddered at the unfamiliar sensation of someone else’s touch. "But your eyes… they’re from our father. Ah, our dear sister was so gentle…" Her voice wavered, and her hand dropped.

A man’s arms wrap around her shoulders, and only now does Livia notice the rounded belly of Claudia, the gaunt look on her face, and how feverishly her cheeks shone.

"Congratulations!" she quickly changes the subject, not wanting to speak of Cassandra.

"Yes, yes, this is my husband, Senator Appius, I don’t think you’ve met him, have you?" Claudia’s smile suddenly fades, but her husband grins broadly.

The exchange of pleasantries drags on for too long, and then her mentor arrives.

"It was good to see you, Livia," her sister whispers one last time. "We live at the palace now, visit me, I get so lonely sometimes…"

Livia nods sincerely, promising to visit, and hurries to join the other Vestals. The grip of her mentor on her arm is tight, and her gaze is nervous.

"What did you do to anger the emperors?"

"Me?" her voice sounds genuinely surprised, but then she remembers Caracalla’s hateful gaze, and she too asks herself the same question. "I don’t know, I’m sorry."

Suddenly, the crowd around her—the murmuring guests, the admiring stares—became unbearable. What had once flattered her now felt suffocating. Hundreds of eyes watched her with reverence, with curiosity, yet only one pair—bright, piercing, burning with something close to fury—ruined her mood completely. She didn’t belong here.

Still, before she could leave the Colosseum and return to the Vestal House, she would have to face them once again.

Caesonia noticed her growing unease and linked arms with her, trying to comfort her.

"Once again, we thank you for the honor you have shown us and hope to see you again," Geta began, locking his hands together.

"We are pleased that the bond between our temple and the emperors has been restored," the senior Vestal responded politely.

"Oh, and one more thing," Geta said, theatrically raising his hands, "Our mother wished to visit your temple…"

"Yes, mother," Caracalla mockingly drawled, cutting off his brother. There was something in his tone that Livia didn’t like again. That’s not how you speak about your parents, even if they’re not by blood. "She can get so lonely, and we’re not always around to entertain her properly."

Her cheeks flushed, and Livia didn’t understand why, but Caracalla noticed her brief pause and grinned, his mouth opening slightly, pleased that he had provoked some emotion from her. She lifted her chin, refusing to seem vulnerable, even though inside she was embarrassed.

The moment of farewell came. She longed to return home as quickly as possible, to forget all these strange glances and words. There, among the other Vestals, she would be safe, and no troubling thoughts would haunt her.

"Until we meet again," Geta said politely, licking his upper lip and adding, "Amata, I hope next time we can do without the bloodshed."

Amata. Beloved.

She only nodded, unwilling to show how much she disliked being addressed that way by a stranger.

Caracalla didn’t say a word, looking away as if he didn’t even notice her.

And just as she exhaled, walking past him, quietly relieved by the absence of his attention, she felt it.

A touch.

A featherlight, teasing touch traced from the tip of her pinky, gliding up the soft curve of her hand—barely noticeable, yet it burned like fire.

She stopped, glancing back over her shoulder, but the emperor wasn’t looking at her; on the contrary, he was leaning toward his brother, speaking to him.

It felt as though she’d been struck. The heat spread across her cheeks, sank lower into her chest, then froze in her stomach. How dare he?! No one had the right to touch them. Neither mortal nor immortal man would ever dare touch a Vestal Virgin. But he… He turned away, pretending nothing had happened, though that single gesture had shaken everything she had believed in for so long.

Trying to suppress her anger and confusion, she hurried toward her sisters, unaware that both emperors were watching her leave.

Without realizing it, Livia had started a new game.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

note: this story is directly connected to there will be games! Livia is the sister of Cassandra, the protagonist of that story. It’s been about two months since the events of the finale and what Geta did.