#my mom wanted to wrap gifts tonight but now she’s not answering me if she still wants to

[heartual]

i don’t think i’ve had withdrawals this bad since wellbutrin i need to kill myself and respawn tomorrow

[lightsoutnaway]

Hellloooo can I request Carlos x Reader meeting his dad/family for the first time??

Thank youuu!!!

Meet the Family

PAIRING: Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: You meet Carlos' family at the Spanish Gran Prix.

WORD COUNT: 1,114

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took so long for me to get to. I've just gotten through a big series of projects at work though, and I have a lot of free time opening up! I appreciate your patience.

You were hanging your clothes in the closet of the hotel that you were staying at. You really wished they would build a track in Madrid so you could have one race where you and Carlos got to sleep at home. You picked up your last dress, sliding it onto a hanger and placing it in the hotel closet. 

“What do you want to do for dinner?” You asked Carlos as you started putting your shoes away. 

“My dad has a dinner reservation for all of us tonight,” Carlos told you. You froze. 

“Your dad?” You asked.

“Yes,” Carlos answered. “My mom and sister too.” 

“You didn’t tell me they would be here!” You exclaimed. Carlos looked over at you. He hadn’t realized your panic until then. 

“It’s the Spanish Gran Prix. I assumed you would know,” Carlos replied. 

“I assumed you would give me a warning before I met your family,” you told him. You ran a hand through your hair. Carlos tried to hold in a smile at your anxiety. “I don’t have gifts for any of them, Carlos.” 

“You don’t need gifts for them,” Carlos said. 

“My clothes aren’t nice enough either,” you continued. “I didn’t bring anything that’s right for dinner with your parents.” 

“You look perfect right now,” Carlos replied. You weren’t really listening. You stopped and looked at him. 

“Carlos, what if they hate me?” You asked. Carlos frowned. 

“They will not hate you,” Carlos assured you. 

“How do you know?” You pressed. 

“Because I love you. And they’re my family,” he answered. You took a deep breath. 

“Are you sure they won’t hate me?” You asked. Carlos chuckled. 

“They’ll love you, mi amor. My mother has been asking about you for months,” he told you. “She tells me how much happier I seem every time we talk. She knows it’s because of you.” Your cheeks warmed and your heart skipped a beat. 

“What about your dad?” You asked. You knew how much Carlos loved and respected his father. The approval of Carlos Sainz Sr. was something that you found yourself wanting the same way his son did. 

“He’ll love you too, amor,” Carlos assured you. “They all will. You’re going to fit right in.” You took a deep breath and nodded hesitantly.

“Do you really think that they’ll like me? You’re not just saying it?” You asked. Carlos reached up and pushed a hair out of your eyes. 

“Yes, mi amor. I have no worries. They will love you almost as much as I do,” he assured you. “We’re meeting them in an hour.” Your heart leapt in your chest. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents with one hour notice wouldn’t have been your first plan, but it didn’t give you much time to worry. When you arrived at the restaurant Carlos Sr., Reyes, and Blanca were all there already. You weren’t late, but the idea that you had kept them waiting already had you expecting that they hated you. Instead when you walked up Reyes wrapped you in a hug, quickly followed by her husband and daughter. 

“Y/N! It is so good to meet you,” Reyes greeted. Reyes hugged her son as Blanca kissed your cheeks. “Ella es muy bonita, Carlito,” Reyes praised her son. 

“My son never stops talking about you,” Carlos Sr. said as you sat down. “He tells us all about your job.” You looked at Carlos, a bashful expression spreading over your face. 

“Yes, I love my job. It’s not quite as exciting as being a racecar driver, but I like it,” you said. 

“I’ve asked him some questions, but I’m not sure he listens to you as well as he should…” Carlos Sr. proceeded to ask you about your career, clearly impressed by the fact that you were so advanced in your field. Blanca quickly took to you, her sense of humor matching yours–similar to her brother. Reyes didn’t say much but as she watched her son fawn over you, she didn’t find the need to ask you anything. 

“Do you want the last bite?” Carlos held out a forkful of chocolate cake to you. You smiled and let him feed it to you. 

“Thank you, my love,” you gushed before kissing his cheek. As sick as the sight made her, Blanca couldn’t help but be happy for her brother. Reyes and Carlos Sr. had knowing smiles on their faces as they watched their son. You were the one. They knew it just as well as their son did. Carlos Sr. paid for the meal before Carlos pulled your chair out for you, offering his arm to you as you exited the restaurant. Reyes and Blanca were chatting with you about where you would meet in the paddock tomorrow as Carlos went up to the valet stand with his father. The two of them handed their tickets to the valet before he walked off to get their cars. Carlos was watching you laugh with his mom and sister, his father observing the way his son stared at you so fondly. 

“Don’t mess it up with this one,” Carlos Sr. warned his son. “You’re never going to do better.” Carlos looked over at his dad and chuckled. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Carlos assured his father. Carlos opened your car door for you before all of you headed out. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called to Carlos’ family through the open car window. Carlos smiled to himself before reaching over and innocently resting his hand on your leg as he drove back to the hotel. 

“I told you that they would love you,” Carlos teased you. 

“You were nervous when you met my parents,” you reminded him with a huff. 

“Your dad is scary,” Carlos said. 

“I told you that he would like you though,” you replied. 

“And you were right. And I was right that my family would like you,” Carlos said. “We are just one big happy family.” You giggled. 

“We’re family?” You asked softly. 

“Yes,” Carlos said firmly. “Soon enough it will be legal too.” You looked at Carlos with wide eyes. 

“What?” Your voice was small and hopeful. Carlos smirked. 

“I thought I could adopt you,” he said. “Charles and Oscar made it seem fun.” You laughed at him. Carlos pulled up to the hotel. 

“I don’t need to be adopted though. I’ve got parents,” you teased as Carlos helped you from his car. He smiled as he wound his fingers between yours. His fingertip rubbed against the empty spot on your left ring finger that would be occupied soon enough. 

“That’s okay,” Carlos assured you. “I can think of another way to make you my family."

[readychilledwine]

When I'm Gone

Summary - You always had the perfect answer, even when you weren't there to give it anymore

Warnings - angst, loss of a parent

A/N - enjoy this short little drabble of single dad Azriel and his daughter 💕

Azriel Masterlist

Azriel couldn't help but stare at his daughter. His beautiful Mia. His sweet little Mia. Mia, who at 16 years old, looked more and more like you every day. Mia, who shared your love and passion for reading. Mia, who despite losing you at 5, was every bit you. 

He sighed as he stood, wiping the tears from her face. “Stay here, okay?” She nodded as he went upstairs, entering his office and opening a chest full of yellowed envelopes. Envelopes with Mia and Azriel's name, envelopes with specific instructions of when to open them. 

Open me if Mia meets her mate matched to a separate one that said For when you meet your mate. 

When you experience your first heartbreak, it matched an envelope with his name When Mia experiences her first break up. He pulled those envelopes out, wishing your scent still lingered to them, wishing he could smell you one more time. He walked back downstairs, pausing to look at her without her knowing, holding back his anger and grief. 

Every milestone, happy or sad, had been a challenge since you had died. Even with you leaving gifts for every birthday and solstice. Even with every letter of love, encouragement, or longing, it was a reminder to both of them of what was what could have been. 

Mia and Azriel would never forget the first time Azriel opened those chests. A letter sat at the top, addressed to both of them, For when you two miss me.

And Gods did they miss you every day. 

Azriel sat down across from Mia again, handing her the letter with her name while opening his own. 

My love,

If you are reading this, Mia is going through her first breakup. I know you. I know your reaction, your instinct, is to go and fight, but she needs your gentleness now. She needs her father to tell her it is all going to be okay. She needs you to hold her, to take her to our favorite bakery, to take her shopping. She needs you to remind her of your love for her. 

I can only imagine how beautiful she is. I pray to the Mother that you only go through this once, that the next male will be someone we would have both loved. Hopefully, he is kind, gentle, and caring. He loves her for the right reasons. 

I can only pray for you to have strength through this all. For you to continue putting her first as you always have. It is bittersweet, knowing I won't see her go through this, but knowing how desperately I wish I could be there. Life is unfair, Azriel. So disgustingly unfair and unjust. 

I need you to remind her I love her. That she was my world. My everything. I need her to know what she meant to me even if you have to be my messenger. I picked the perfect gift for this moment. I need you to go to the gift pile. There will be a gift that's a small wrapped box. It has the pink silk ribbon. Can you give it to her for me? After you do, because we both know you were never able to tell me no, I want you to take her to the Cafe, the one we both love with the good cakes? Please?

In your pile, you will find something as well. It has the same ribbon. I want you to open tonight once she is asleep. I love you, Azriel. You are my light in the dark, and now you need to be Mia’s.

Forever and always yours,

Y/n

Azriel released a heavy breath, going to the former space you had made an office to find Mia’s gift. His hands shook as he walked back to her, barely composed as she began to sob. “I miss her,” she whispered as Azriel sat next to her, setting the gift down and pulling her into his chest. “It's not fair.”

“It's not,” he whispered. “She thought of everything, though.”

Mia nodded, leaning more into him. “She was the best mom.”

“She is,” he corrected her, grabbing the gift and setting it in her hands. He knew immediately that it was. You had treasured your blank journals, and he stupidly had never even thought of giving Mia one. She tore the paper before laughing through sad eyes. 

A leather bound journal, hand painted and magically persevered, sat in her hands. Three smiling, young faces looked back at her. Mia opened the journal to the front page, and your handwriting met them both again, sprawling and swirling the page with your love. 

“I am supposed to take you to the Cafe your mom and I used to go to. Your mom loved their cakes. Do you feel up to going?” Mia nodded immediately. She stood, walking over to the coat rack. Her hands lingered on a soft powder blue peacoat. Fingers gliding over the contrasting black buttons. Azriel moved behind her, grabbing the jacket and holding it for his daughter to put on. She looked even more like you now in your favorite jacket, a bow in his color gracing her hair. 

He stared at her as she got ready. Watching as she slipped each shoe on. “Can we go to the book store after?”

He felt Mia’s eyes on him as he sucked in a breath and his eyes shut. You had always asked the same question. He stilled himself and then nodded before giving her the same answer he always gave you. “Only if you promise not to empty my account.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[abilouwrites]

ARE YOU MINE

Zuko “someone to call mine” part two!

@multifandomedsimp ily bcz u commented and that shit makes my day

It takes me two days before I text the number on the gift card, “hello?” A voice answers, I know that voice, “this is Zuko”

“I know.. it’s y/n from the other day. You gave me your number on the gift card” I nervously say, “um this is so random but would you maybe want to—“

“Yes”

“I haven’t even said the question”

“Just yes” His voice feels so desperate and it makes me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt for a guy before.

It doesn’t take long for us to meet up, “are you sure it’s not too late?” I ask walking into the locker rooms, “I’ve got lacrosse practice”

“No, I just want to see you that’s all” he replies, “have fun”

I finish up two hours later; shower and drive to the park where we’re going to walk about. I see him; baggy jeans and crewneck which is a contrast to my leggings and hoodie. My damp hair down and scrunched up, “hey” he smiles as I walk up to him; hands tucked into my pockets.

“Hi, it’s cold out tonight. Didn’t the groundhog say it was supposed to be warm now?” I laugh a little, but my joke feels stupid now, “do you have any siblings?” I ask

He sighs, “I have a sister, Azula but she’s not right in the head” he looks down a little disappointed but sighs and looks back up, “what about you”

“I have a little sister, Suki. She’s definitely a character” I smile a little, “she’s annoying to all annoyingness but I would kill for her”

“A little sister seems nice, um how was your practice?” He asks; we’re both a little awkward and it’s nice to feel this way again

“It was good, lots of drills. Especially being Varsity captain there’s a lot of pressure to do well” I ramble, “do you do any sports?” I ask, nervously stuffing my hands into my pockets to fidget and pull at my nails

“No. I just make tea” he laughs a little, it’s a nervous and hoarse thing but it eases me comfort that he feels as I do, “I used to play soccer but I lost the passion for it. You know?” He gives a short smile as we circle around, and we find ourself back at the tea shop, “tea?”

“That..” the wind brushes through my jacket, “would be so nice” I smile as he leads me inside, we don’t take long before we get comfortable with each other. Sitting next to each other, talking about whatever.

“What was your mom like?” I ask, rubbing my hands on the cup of lotus tea to keep warm, “can I ask that?”

“I guess, she was kind, and sweet. The only one who actually tried to help poor Azula. My uncle has stepped up in her place and in my father’s too” he confesses, he looks so sad. I wrap my hand around his loose one that hangs by his side. Twisting my fingers intertwined with his.

“My dad left when I was four. I never really knew why but throughout my parents marriage he..” there’s a long exhale and I lean against him, bunching my knees to my chest, “was cheating on my mom. But she was pregnant with Suki” I pause trying to remember what happened. There was a fight, breaking glass but, “I can’t remember anything else”

“Thank you, for sharing that with me. My father was the same, he never cheated on my mother but he wasn’t a kind man either. I lied before. My scar doesn’t come from a tea pot exploding” he confesses, looking down ashamed at his own lie that doesn’t seem too horrible, “my father burned me. I think it’s a blessing I don’t exactly remember what happened”

“Yes. Maybe it is a good thing. I really like you Zuko” I admit. Maybe it’s the warm tea in my stomach or how talking about things that have hurt me so bad and not crying over it. It makes me feel good in some way

“I really like you too”

[junglemax]

this is set in the 90s. i was very much so not alive in the 90s. we’re bullshitting our way through this one, folks (also this is for an au I wanted to write but now will probably not get to, so instead I will maybe give you one or two more fics related to it and that will be that)

darby accidentally finds a gift for hook.

[fic]

“I don’t understand why I had to come with you,” Anthony groans. “I have better things to do than to look for toys for your little brother.”

“I was not walking to this store myself,” Darby says, picking through the action figures. “Besides, you love spending time with me.”

“Not when I’m spending the time at a damn Toy’s R Us,” Anthony whispers angrily.

Darby rolls his eyes. “Shut up, you big baby.” He passes by some Barbie dolls, then stops and steps back. He picks one up and inspects it. “Anthony, come here for a second.”

“What? What is it?”

“Take a look at this Ken doll and tell me you see what I see.”

Anthony takes it from Darby. “Earring Magic Ken? What about it-“ Anthony stops, and then gasps. “No. They did not just make a gay Ken doll.”

Darby grins and bites his tongue, nodding. He grabs another one. “I’m getting both.”

“Why do you need two?”

“One for me, obviously,” Darby says, “and one for you know who.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re giving him one?”

“What? It’s cute. It’ll remind him of me, and we’ll both have one.”

“You don’t think anyone’s gonna question him having a Barbie doll?”

“It won’t upset me if he shoves it into his closet,” Darby shrugs. “Just as long as he gets it.”

“Alright, whatever then,” Anthony sighs. “Two Ken dolls it is. You still gotta find something for your brother.”

“Should I just say fuck it and get him a game system?”

“Probably.”

~

Darby picks up his landline phone and dials the number he still has in his notebook. It rings once, twice, and then someone picks up.

“Hello?” A woman, presumably Hook’s mother, answers.

“Hi, this is one of uh- Hook’s buddies from college? I was in town and wanted to know if he wanted to hang out.”

“Oh! I’ll go get him,” she says.

Darby can hear her call him, and then he hears the phone get passed over.

“Yo.”

“Hi, Hook.”

“Darby? What the fu-“ Hook stops, then drops to a whisper. “What the hell are you doing calling my house?”

“You didn’t answer at your dorm,” Darby shrugs. “Figured you had to be home.”

“And the first thing you do is lie to my mom. Cool.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have told her how we really know each other? That you fuck my brains out every other week-“

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hook groans. “What do you want?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For what?”

“Just saw it and thought of you.”

“…Okay?”

“When do you get back?”

“I’m leaving tonight. I can stop by your place before I go back to the dorm.”

“Perfect. See you then, babydoll.”

“Don’t call me that.” Hook ends the call.

~

Darby hears the front door unlock and he slides out to the living room.

“Hey,” Hook greets, shutting the door behind him quickly.

Darby finishes closing the space between them and wraps his arms around Hook’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his lips. “Hey.”

“What’s this surprise you have for me?” Hook asks, placing his hands on Darby’s hips.

“Oh! Come on. It’s in my room.” Darby slips out of his grasp and jogs to his room.

He pulls it out of his closet and hands it to Hook when Hook ends at the doorway. “Here.”

Hook takes it and looks at it before looking at Darby, confused. “A Ken doll?”

“Look at the necklace.”

Hook does. “Oh, hey, it looks like yours,” he chuckles. “Cute.”

“So whenever you’re away or whatever, you can just look at him and think of me,” Darby says nonchalantly. “Or just shove him up in a closet, I don’t care.”

Hook laughs and smiles softly. “I’ll find somewhere for it,” he says, tossing it between his hands. “Thanks.”

[ultralightpoe]

Pinky Promises - Chapter Two

Authors Note: Another Part in the series is up, I am very excited for their story.

Word Count: 8532

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October 13th, 1977 - Thursday 

“Both of you need to be on your best behavior.” Charlotte Fraser warns, watching as the two children in front of her give each other wide smiles that she knows firsthand will only cause trouble. “You hear me?” 

They nod, staring blankly back at her before turning to each other and giving that same smile once more. Before she can call them on it another figure emerges in the kitchen, limping slightly as she laughs at the scene before her. 

“Lottie, dear. They are just getting ready for the day. Take it easy on them.” Nana defends, coming to kiss her granddaughter's head lightly. “Are we doing pancakes for the birthday girl then?” 

Everyone blinks, and Steve watches as Lottie tries coming up with an answer to her mothers question. But Ollie is quick to beat them too it. 

“We already ate breakfast Nana. I wanted you to sleep because you stayed up late making my dress.” She smiles, spinning to show her the work she had done. “Thank you so much by the way.” 

Nana blinks, looking at the clock before realizing what time it is and nodding slowly. “Right. I must have overslept. Silly me. Alright. Let me say goodbye at least.” 

She kisses Ollie’s head, and then kisses Steves before limping off to find where Wiley ran off to in an effort to flee from his father and school. The second she turns the corner Lottie bends down to fix Ollie’s dress a bit and wipe some of the hair out of her daughter's hair. “You’re such a pretty birthday girl. Let’s get you to school.” 

Steve watches in silence as Ollie runs to grab her backpack and Charlotte wipes the tears before everyone is being ushered out the door. 

“I have your gift.” He mumbles to Ollie on the way to the car. “I’m giving it to you later.” 

“Are you going to have dinner over here tonight?” 

“My mom is going out with an old friend so yeah. That and I want to come celebrate your birthday.” 

“I know.” She smiles, leaning to hug him. “You’re my best friend.” 

“You're my best friend.” He sighs, hugging her back, nerves filling his body. 

- 

October 13th, 1983 - Thursday 

“I am so irritated with you right now I can’t even begin to describe it.” Cece snaps, her hand slamming into the locker next to the one Via currently stood in front of, shuffling through to find her lighter as her friend went on a rant. “It’s not even worth arguing over.” 

“Good because-“ 

“You know what? I changed my mind. It is worth arguing over because how dare you? How. Dare. You.” The brunette seethes, eyes narrowing as Via’s fingers finally wrap around the lighter and drag it out from the abyss of a locker. “I’ve been your best friend for how many years now?” 

“4 I believe. Might be 5.” 

“And this is the treatment I get?” 

“Okay, let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because I accepted a shift tonight? I need money and Thursday nights are the best since it’s just a bunch of middle schoolers and their parents.” Via mumbles, exhaustion coating her every movement. It had been a rough couple nights, spent unable to sleep and so she crammed herself in that tiny desk and tried drawing or painting until she got tired enough to pass out at the desk until her father woke her up for school. All. Week. 

“It’s your birthday, Olivia.” A couple people turn their heads to them at the tone which makes Via panic and shush her. 

“Not so loud. Alaska can probably hear you.” They glare at each other for a moment, both unwilling to give up on their stances. 

Finally, with a growl of frustration, Cece stomps her heel into the ground. “We should be celebrating tonight Via.” 

“I need to work.” Via huffs, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension that had built up. “Besides, Hartson wasn’t really offering it. It was more of a ‘I need this shift covered so do it’. And so I agreed.”

“He can’t do that. That’s not legal is it? He can’t do that.” 

“I’m not sure but it’s already been done so who cares-“ Before she can finish her sentence a body shoves into her, wrapping her in a hug that sends them both careening into the lockers by them. 

“Gareth.” It’s a warning enough, but the brown haired boy doesn’t listen to Eddie and continues hugging Via with a big smile. 

“You smell like fish.” She scoffs, trying to push him away. 

“It’s my new deodorant. I call it sweat.” The fool smiles, lifting his armpit for her to smell which leads to her gasping and pushing him harshly. In their little scuffle they both accidently push into another figure that had been at her locker. 

A soft grunt of pain could be heard as Barb dropped the books she was holding, making the group in front of her stop quickly. 

“I’m sorry.” Gareth blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Barb nods, doing her best not to make eye contact. 

Relatively Barb and the group before her sat at the same rank on the food chain of this school, barely making it by with Tommy Hagan. And yet their groups sat on opposite sides. 

Via and her friends were considered ‘burnouts’ whilst Barb was considered….a ‘goody two shoes’ not that there was anything wrong with that. But it’s safe to say they all normally avoided each other. 

“We didn’t mean to do that.” Via confirms, bending down to grab the books for her as the redhead keeps nodding. 

“No it was me. I was in the way.” Barb tries a laugh, grabbing the books back from Vias outstretched hand slowly. 

“Hey I saw you in the hall the other day while I was ditching. You told the teacher the wrong way when they asked where I went.” Eddie smiles, and Via watches in real time as her cousin does what he does best. Break tension and make people feel comfortable. “That was totally cool. You rock for that.” 

Barb's face turns a deep red as she ducks her head a bit, fighting off a smile. “Oh that was nothing.” 

“And that top is extremely cute.” Cece smiles, reaching forward to feel one of the ruffles between her fingers. “Have you ever seen Vogue magazine? It’s got a top that looks a lot like this-“

“I just got it from my moms closet if I’m being honest.” Barb admits. “It’s hard finding sweaters that fit me sometimes.” 

“Oh here we go.” Eddie rolls his eyes, watching Cece’s face light up with excitement as Gareth groans out when she shoves him out of the way to get closer to Barb. 

“I can make you something out of any sweaters you don’t like anymore. I actually think you would look so good in-“ As she starts going on and on Gareth groans again and Eddie reaches out to shove him and give him a death glare as Via shuffles to make her escape. 

She normally waits until her free period to sneak out and smoke near the track field, it was the perfect time of day to do so. No student or teacher traffic, she didn’t have to worry about missing class and got the perfect amount of silence to work in her sketchbook. Not that she needed silence, she just liked letting her thoughts run free without anyone near. 

She would miss math class, and her dad won’t like that call when he gets it later but she’ll say she wasn’t feeling well and lie about going to the nurse. It was her birthday after all. So she takes a sharp breath in and walks through the halls while patting her jacket to make sure she had everything she needed before taking the side exit out of the school and heading to the weird alley left between the gym building and the main building. 

The gravel digs into her legs as she sits on the ground, shuffling around to get comfortable as best she could before dragging out her sketchbook and lighting a cigarette as she begins working. 

Via liked to follow her instincts when it came to art, she trusted her imagination more than anything else, and it had never really caused a problem before. If a project wasn’t working then she moved on to the next. 

But this one had been killing her, and she had no clue why. 

It was a rough sketch, shadowed figures all huddled in the forest. There were four young boys, and Via kept seeing images of her brother flash in her mind as she detailed them out before she finally gave up and focused on the fifth figure but that was the thing that caught her the most. 

She couldn’t tell if she had been drawing a boy or a girl, the images flashing in her mind were always hazy and undistinguished and yet it was so clear. The hospital gown that reached their knees, torn a bit on the right. The hair cut short, a sort of buzzcut that reminded her of Eddie back when he was in middle school. The nose was bleeding, but there was something on the wrist that she could never make out. A tattoo of sorts that-

“Are you smoking?!” An angry voice snaps her attention quickly, she had been so involved in the sketch that she didn’t even hear the person exit the gym, a soft curse falling from her lips as panic claims her, making her drop the cigarette to the ground desperate to stomp it out until she sees Steve there with his hands on his hips. “Really, Ollie?!”

“Someone needs to put a bell on you.” She snaps, her skin flush with heat as she tries to glare at him while he shakes his head gently. His face is puckered between amusement and shock, his eyes bright with something that makes Via nervous. “What? You going to run and snitch on me now?”

“First you shoplift-”

“So did you.”

“And now you’re smoking on school property. What? You buy eyeliner and suddenly feel like a bad girl?” His tone is teasing, but Via stays on edge. Teasing probably means his friends were soon to follow and she would become the butt of the joke. 

She had to get out of here. Her eyes narrow in on his slow shuffling, like he was trying to move closer without her knowing. His shoulders tense and he is messing with the white towel balled up between his hands as he begins looking everywhere but her. 

Without another thought she grabs the handle to her bag, keeping her sketchbook gripped in her hand as she gets ready to jump up and scram. 

“Don’t you know those cause cancer?” He asks after an awkward moment of silence passes, laughing a little under his breath. She goes rigid, turning to glare at him rather than her exit. 

“So does your hairspray, you don’t hear me raggin on ya.” 

“My hairspray does not cause cancer.” He argues, eyes snapping to hers. “It is completely safe to use-”

“That’s such a lie, Harrington.” His face falls slightly at the last name, blinking as he nods. “What? I offend your hair?”

“I just can’t get used to my last name.” He admits, shrugging a bit. 

“You’ve had it since you were born.” 

“Yeah but you never used it.” And the silence that follows that sentence is deafening, it settles between them like a wall and Steve inhales quickly. “I just figured you would be the most cautious about cancer and-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She snaps, sitting up quickly as his eyes widen in fear. 

“It wasn’t supposed to mean anything-”

“You really want to bring up my nana, you little shit?!” 

“I’m a little shit?! You’re a little gremlin!”

“Oh I’m a gremlin now?! Listen here you half baked ken doll, you are the most annoying person on this earth. You walk into a room and your ego sucks out all the air in it!” She stands to be at his height, the sketchpad dropping from her hand. 

He’s quick to snatch it up, when she moves to snatch it back he turns his back to her and keeps it away. “If I’m a half baked Ken doll then you're a metal melted barbie.”

“Give it back Harrington.” She seethes, trying to jump over him to grab the book. Doing so she wraps her arms around him and just hangs from his back as he laughs. Dropping the white towel to reach his free hand up to hold her arm there so she doesn’t fall from his back. She reaches out once more, face heating as she catches a whiff of his overly priced cologne. 

“Jesus, Ollie…via. This is really good.”

“Yeah, right. Okay.” She rolls her eyes, diving for the book once more. He slips a bit, and they both panic. She wraps her legs around him to stop from falling and he catches himself on the wall. 

“Your dad said not to koala me!” He gasps, still gripping her arm to keep her up. “This isn’t fair.”

“Give me the book then!” “No!”

“Yes!” “I just wanna see it!” 

“You are such a pain in the ass-”

“Who is the girl?” He asks before gasping for air a bit when her arm tightens around his neck as she begins sliding off. “Ollie-”

The strangled sound of his voice makes her let her legs to, moving to unravel her arms from his neck, too focused on what he said about the sketch to care about grabbing the book back. He keeps a hold on her arm though, and a part of her feels like he just wanted to keep her near him while the other part of her knows he’s getting ready to block her again. 

“Girl? What makes you think it’s a girl?”

“The eyebrows? A random feeling? How am I supposed to know? You’re the artist.” He scoffs, keeping a hold on her elbow as he pulls the book closer to himself. “Is that…that’s Wiley right?” 

“I…. don’t know.” She blinks, suddenly feeling way too exposed and snatching the book finally. “Just get on with the mocking already-”

“I’m not here to mock you-”

“Here, I’ll even get it started for you. ‘What are you doing in the alley you freak?’ or ‘It’s creepy to draw people you stalker’ or-”

“Can I have a cigarette?” He interrupts her, wiping his palms on his shirt as his eyebrows pinch together, a look of pain passing across his face so fast that she thinks she must have imagined it. 

“And then I say something like ‘why don’t you go make out with a mirror you narcissist?’ and-”

“Olivia, can I please have a cigarette? Please?” He tilts his head, holding out a hand as she rolls her own eyes and reaches into her pocket to grab one for him. She freezes halfway through, blinking up at him with suspicion which makes him smile slightly. “I’m not trapping you to snitch.”

“Fine.” She pulls out the box and opens it to him, he is quick to snatch one, their fingers brushing together a bit which makes her pull her hand back quickly with a sneer, the heat from his touch rising up her arm and somehow sending chills down her spine. 

“How bout a light?” He asks with it between his lips, hands on his hips as she pulls out her lighter and tries to hand it to him. After a moment of standing there she realizes he won’t grab it so with a huff she flicks it on and leans to light it for him. He shrugs and leans his head forward so she can light it while it’s still between his lips. A cocky smile spreads across his features. . “Remember when we used to talk about stealing our first cigarette from your dad when you hit high school?”

“No. I don’t.” 

“Liar.”

“Jackass.” Her words were supposed to piss him off, and she gets aggravated and annoyed when it seems to have the exact opposite reaction and instead drags a smile onto his face. 

She didn’t understand why he was even bothering to bring it up, it obviously never happened. Whispering their plans of sharing their first cigarette and first drink had been useless. He had started his freshman year without her and somewhere along the way she had completely been dropped from his life. 

Eddie’s warnings from middle school are still right there in her ear as she watches him now. 

“I know you both are close but…. He’s not the person you think he is you know? He hurts people. You’re not like that.” 

She hadn’t understood then, hadn’t been able to process that her very best friend in the world was a bully. But the second she moved up to the same school as him once more it all made sense. And the betrayal of finding out who he really was hurt like a bitch. 

The apologies she had to give Eddie for not believing him tore at her chest. 

As if he knows what she is thinking while she stares he awkwardly clears his throat before taking a drag from the cigarette and shuffling to find a spot. 

After a few moments he leans against the brick wall, trying to seem relaxed as he smokes while she shuffles to the opposite wall, moving to pick up her bag and toss all her supplies in. The sketch pad is thrown in, and she fights a cringe when the pages bend against the other books but she’s too interested in getting the hell out of here. 

“What are you doing today?” He asks after yet another minute of silence, his voice a little cracked, almost as if he was desperate to keep the conversation going before she could escape. Alarm rings through her, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to reveal what he actually needed. 

“Oh just the usual, plotting your murder and then robbing a bank after school.” She scoffs, trying to fix the hair that had fallen out of her bun when she attacked him earlier.  “Any requests? I’m partial to the throwing you down a well idea but I would also be willing to set you on fire.”

“Oh. Interesting. I think I’m gonna go with Plan B.” He smiles, shuffling closer once more and she finds herself trying to find something to say that would piss him off. Anything that might shred his heart the way he shredded hers, but the words get caught on her tongue whenever she thinks of something close.  “Seriously, what are the big plans tonight? For Ollie’s birthday extraordinaire?”

There’s a bite to the words, and she tries not to scoff at it, noting the small tinge of jealousy. 

“I have work. And I already told you not to call me that. ” She admits, shrugging a bit. Torn between dashing away and or staying near him. Why was it so hard to leave? She hates him. 

“You work at the theater, right?”

“Yes? How did you know that?” 

“I’ve seen you there. Not in a stalkerish way but like- you work the snack counter. Why are you working on your birthday? That is the biggest sin known to man. Especially in your family.” 

“I…..” For a second the words almost tumble out, desperate to finally rant to someone about the situation. For a second it’s not Harrington and Via, rather than Ollie and Stevie and she feels the emotions hit her chest as she breathes in air for what feels like the first time in forever. 

She wants to tell him that she hasn’t celebrated her birthday without her Nana before, and explain that her family had no money to do a warm dinner or cake so what was the point of making them feel guilty? It wasn’t worth it anyways considering she wasn’t anything to celebrate over. 

For a second she almost slips and admits her sad thoughts to the longest friend she ever had. 

But his laughing face appears in her memory next, and she could just about vomit all over the gravel beneath them as it engraves itself there in the forefront of it all. 

This was not how it used to be, and she needed to remember that. 

It finally made sense why he was out here, he was looking for things to throw at her. Looking to trick her into talking to him so he would have fresh material. 

“Why am I wasting time talking to you?” She scoffs. “You’ll just throw it back in my face the first chance you get. Fuck off Harrington.”

She storms off after that, and she should have felt victorious because she got to tell Steve to fuck off. But she didn’t, she only felt lame and hurt. 

And the worst part was she knew exactly what to say to hurt him in the way he had hurt her, but she didn’t have the guts to do so. 

She was pathetic. 

- 

October 13th, 1977 

Ollie’s birthday dinner was spent with her family, just as it always was, elbow to elbow as they poured over the meal before them. 

Nana, who sat at the head of the table, was recounting her trip at the store earlier to the little ones who had been in school, watching their faces as they listened intently. 

“And the damn price of corn went up again. By the time you bunch are grown it’s gonna be damn near 5 dollars for one stock of it.” She grunts out, rolling her eyes gently. “You better become rich.” 

“I am!” Wiley yells, raising his hand. “I’m gonna go to space!” 

“Ollie is going to be a famous painter.” Stevie smiles, leaning forward. “She’s gonna be in a museum one day.” 

“No I’m not!” Ollie laughs, shaking her head at her friend as he turns to her shocked. “They only put the really good ones in those museums. There is no way I make it.” 

“They have to! I’ll make them!” Stevie snaps, his face thrown into one of disbelief. 

“How are you going to make them?” The adults can do nothing but watch as the two turn to face each other, all aware just how this process goes with them. 

“I’ll….. I’ll….. break their kneecaps!” Stevie rushes out, face growing red as Ollie gapes at him. 

“You’re going to break their kneecaps to get my work in a museum?” She asks, her face melting into one of giddiness as Steve nods aggressively. 

“I’ll break the museum's kneecaps. No question.” He confirms and his best friend shoves forward to hug him tightly. “Who even works at a museum anyways?” 

“I have no clue. But they better watch themselves.” Ollie giggles with her arms still wrapped around Steve. 

“I pray for them.” Flip mutters, shaking his head at the two kids. “I pray for anyone who bothers you two.” 

“Do you believe in god?” Wiley blurts out, fully staring his father down. 

“Eat your mashed potatoes, Wye.” Flip grunts, going red in the face himself at his youngest son's attention, flustered. 

-

October 13th, 1983 - Thursday. 

Standing outside Hawkins Theater, Steve Harrington shuffled about on his feet awkwardly with his hands in his pockets debating whether he should be here or not. 

He knew, deep down, that this was a bad idea. Like pouring gasoline on himself and then lighting a match. And yet he stood there, wanting nothing more than to light the match. 

It was an addiction, he was sure of it, having to be near Ollie. One that he had managed to avoid so well, until that night at the Mini Mart gave him a taste again and he found himself looking for her throughout the day. 

It made sense, this was his best friend at one point. He used to spend nights at her house and eat with her family. This was the person who taught him to ride a bike and dared him to eat a worm. It’s only natural to miss her….. right? 

He messed it up earlier, he moved too fast and asked too many questions. He made her paranoid, and that was on him. This time he would be more careful, ease into the conversation. He would-

Jesus when did Ollie go from his best friend to talking about her like she’s a scared kitten in an alley?

This was a bad idea, he knows this, the sinking feeling in his gut making him turn to walk away. He’d go to the store and get something for dinner and forget all about this. Go back to the way it was, completely ignoring her existence. 

But her face flashes in his mind and he finds himself turning right back around and facing the theater. It was her birthday. He missed it last year, an away game for basketball, and even if he was in Hawkins he didn’t know what he would have done for her. 

And the year before that had been the year when Cece emerged, the girl hating him through and through. He remembered her narrowed eyes as he carried the painting set to the house, the look of distrust. 

He had gotten to watch from the sidelines last year just how close Cece was to Via, a firm layer of annoyance lacing his mind every time he saw them hanging out. Steve liked to blame Cece on Via's new look, the new shorts and dark colors. The chopped and bleached hair. Via looked completely different than what he was used to. 

And it wasn’t bad, she was still beautiful, always had been. Even he could admit that as her best friend. But it was a shock to the system seeing her now. The first day of school this year he had kept an eye out for long brown hair and one of Nana's signature creations. 

He had not known what to do with the new Via, or how to stop his heart from racing through his chest when she walked by with her middle finger pointed at his group. 

But that didn’t matter, he had spent the year avoiding her, and had missed her birthday. 

“Come on Harrington. Just get it together.” He mutters to himself, wiping the sweat from his palms down the front of his jacket before hopping on his feet a bit to hype himself up before he finally makes his way to the ticket booth. 

“What can I do for you?” The kid sitting in the booth huffs, staring at Steve like he was crazy. 

“Oh um. My friend is working. Can I just come in? I don’t really need a ticket.” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. 

“Can’t get in without a ticket.” 

“Okay. Fine. Just a ticket to a movie then.” Steve rushes out, grabbing his wallet and paying for the ticket before he heads into the building and takes a deep breath in. 

The smell of buttered popcorn fills the air, the red decorations around mixed with the maroon carpet and warm lighting making everything about this place feel so welcoming. It almost manages to ease all his anxiety as he shuffles to the snack counter, wiping his palms one more time as her voice fills the air. 

“Just this today Miles?” She asks, even though she is already grabbing the money like she already knows it will be. The taller figure nods quickly, grabbing his snack and turning to walk away. 

He makes quick eye contact with Steve before he whirls around and bends his head in thanks and blurts out a fast. “Thank you Ms. Olivia.” 

With that he walks away, back ramrod straight and not making eye contact with anyone as he passes. And while Steve was busy watching him walk away he completely forgot that Ollie could see him. 

“What are you doing?” She snaps out and he whirls to meet her eyes quickly, suddenly feeling insane. 

“I’m….. here to see a movie.” He lies, stepping forward until his fingers touch the counter. “Obviously.” 

She blinks up at him, her lips shut in a thin line. “Then go see your movie.” 

“Well I need snacks.” He smiles, pointing behind her at all the snacks displayed on the shelves and the large popcorn display. “What do you recommend?” 

“Popcorn.” She keeps her face bland, it makes his chest tighten as he panics for ways to make her smile. 

“That guy before me was a little weird, huh?” 

“Miles is really nice.” She rushes out, standing to grab a bucket and fill it with popcorn quickly. “He comes every Thursday for that Star Wars movie. And he always says thank you. So leave him alone.” 

“Right. Got it.” He rushes out, nodding a little too much as he tries to come off relaxed. “So…. Nice hat.” 

Her work uniform was a yellow button up with a red tie, and Steve was a bit frustrated by the fact that she actually managed to make it look good. With bracelets stacked on her arm and black nail polish. But the thing that caught his attention was the birthday hat on her head. Blue with the words ‘happy birthday’ printed all over it but it printed wrong so it mostly said happy with only about 3 birthdays. And there was so much color on the hat that he had to blink to focus. 

“My manager gave it to me. Get your jokes out now.” She snaps, slamming the bucket on the counter. “And my ears were cold because they blast the ac so people don’t fall asleep.”

“People fall asleep a lot?” 

“More often than not.” She hits the buttons on the register before looking at him with a raised brow. “Anything else?” 

“A drink. Please.” Anything to stay here a little longer. 

“What are you seeing anyways?” She asks and he struggles to pull the ticket out of his pocket to see. 

“The… last Jedi?” 

“Oh fun! You should sit by Miles.” She smiles, pointing to the soda machine and waiting for him to answer what he wants. 

“Coke please.” 

“The theater is almost always empty now. That movie came out in like May and we were packed back then for weeks and now it’s just Miles.” She explains, filling the cup. “He comes every Thursday. He used to come with his brother but I haven’t seen George in a minute. I think he got married and moved to Nebraska.” 

Her voice holds a dreamy tone in the end, one that he catches a little too quickly. 

“You want to move to Nebraska?” 

“Not specifically. I’d like to move one day though.” She snaps the lid on the drink, coming back over to set it down, she’s close enough that he can smell the perfume she wore. It wasn’t too flowery or strong. Just a nice sage smell that had him at ease. 

“Why would you want to leave Hawkins?” 

“It’s…. Hawkins. Who wouldn’t I?” She laughs, slamming the buttons on the register once more before the total pops up. He pulls the cash from his wallet and sets it down gently. 

“I like it here.” He mumbles, shrugging a bit. He always thought she liked it here too. 

“It’s different when you’re the king.” She snaps a little, and he registers that wall building back up before his very own eyes. He had to switch the topic. 

“Where were you from originally? Denver?” 

“Yup. But my parents were from here.” 

“I remember. Your mom got accepted into college out there? Right? She studied… history?”  And Flip had followed her. From what Steve could remember of their story Flip had graduated a year before Lottie and he got a contracting job here in Hawkins. When Lottie left for Denver he stayed for a bit before he moved out there to be with her. He got a job with a construction company out there and they lived in a small one bedroom apartment when they got pregnant with Ollie. 

Lottie had been 18 and in college but the way his mothers friends talk about it makes it sound like she had gotten pregnant in high school. And as a kid he never understood the big issue, and now that he can do basic math he knows that his own mother had gotten pregnant senior year. 

She would never admit to that, too busy harping on everyone else. 

“She studied history and artifacts.” Ollie answers, seeming to be a little more at ease. “But right now she’s working as a temp in a legal aid office.” 

“Really? Wow.” His fingers tap against the counter as excitement courses through him. “How’s Wiley?” 

“Good.” That answer comes out clipped and he sees red flags in his vision. 

“Right. Well if you could tell him hi-“

“You’re gonna miss your movie.” She mumbles, pushing the popcorn and drink forward. “Wouldn’t want that.” 

“Right. The movie….. that I came here to see.” He nods, picking both of the containers up and moving to leave before turning back once more. “They are playing trailers though. I don’t mind missing those. What was that thing you were drawing earlier?” 

“I’m not sure. It just kinda…. I don’t know.” She answers truthfully. 

“Have you seen those murals all around? Of the famous people?” He asks, leaning against the counter easily. “There was one recently of Marilyn Monroe. It was really cool.” 

“Yeah I’ve seen them. My parents keep an eye on the paper for articles about the tagger.” She shrugs, cheeks turning red. 

“It’s not tagging though….. technically.” 

“Its not?” 

“Tagging is like…. Graffiti. The paintings are nothing like graffiti. They are really good. They are murals.” He explains, feeling proud of the fact that he is getting her to smile a bit. Truth was he had studied different art topics all week knowing she would be interested in them. Art was her weakness. “And I think whoever is doing them knows that. They hit popular spots when they are mad, like the store. But most of them are for fun.” 

“Who would think spending hours outside in the cold weather painting a wall would be fun?” 

“People with something to say. I would if I had any talent. And I know for a fact you would if you knew how to paint faces.” He smiles and her head tilts a bit which makes his heart speed up. 

“Who says I can’t paint faces?” 

“You always struggled with it growing up. Remember that one you did of…. Oh what was his name? You know with the-“ his hands puff out around his head in attempt to show poofy hair. “With the- damn it. You obsessed over him.” 

“Bob ross. And I didn’t obsess I just…. Liked him a little.” 

“You drew picture after picture of him. You planned a wedding.” Steve laughs. 

“I did not! I planned a proposal. You called me a donkey before I could start planning the wedding.” She huffs, her cheeks bright red. “And yes. I struggle with drawing eyes.” 

“Struggle? Struggle?! You can’t do it period. He looked like a lizard. One eye staring at me and the other trying to find the lost treasure of Atlantis.” He laughs, trying to cross his eyes the same way that drawing had. 

“Ohhhh you wanna talk about drawing. Let’s talk about-“ 

“Please don’t bring it up. I already know what you’re going to say.” He huffs. 

“The family portrait! The one you drew with nanas colored pencils of all of us. But it was just stick figures, and you overdrew dads and it looked like-“ 

“I didn’t mean to give your dads stick figure a dick! I didn’t mean to do it!” He laughs, rubbing his eyes as he remembers that drawing. “It wasn’t my intent.” 

“And you gave Wiley a unibrow.”

“The kid always had his face scrunched in confusion at the time! It looked like one eyebrow every time I saw him!” He tries to explain. “I’ve never seen a baby more confused.” 

“He was always so confused! And so curious! Every time you came over he stared at you like you were some ancient mystery!” She laughs loudly, snorting a bit. “Remember the day you tried making him laugh and got mashed potatoes up your nose?” 

“Oh my god! And then when I laughed it hit his face!” Steve cackles, bending over to try and catch his breath. 

“You scarred him. I swear. That’s why he’s always so nervous now.” 

“Always on the lookout for nose mash now.” He chuckles. “That was your 10th birthday. Right?” 

“I think so, Wiley got so mad that he refused to let me blow out the candles.” She remembers with a laugh, before the sound of blasters fills the air. “I think your movie is starting-“ 

“HARRINGTON!” The voice sounds out from the doors, drawing both their attention to the doors as a couple of the boys from the basketball team show up. “What are you doing here?” 

“W-watching a movie.” Steve rushes out. 

“Nice man.” Nicky laughs, shoving past him. “Nice hat.” 

His tone is sarcastic and the bitter laugh that falls from his lips makes Steve tense. 

“Thanks.” Ollie sneers. “What can I get you?” 

The next couple minutes pass way too slowly, the snarky comments from the boys as Ollie gets their snacks. He laughs, of course he laughs every time they make a comment because he is a coward. Always has been. 

Ollie knew that. And judging by the look she gives him as he is dragged off by his friends he knows she’s remembered why. 

All that work he did over the past 30 minutes ruined. 

- 

October 13th, 1977 - Thursday 

Wiley gets cranky halfway through the dinner and he begins staring at his plate which makes Steve feel bad. He didn’t like when Wiley got upset. He elbows Ollie to get her attention and then leans in to whisper in her ear his plan. She nods with excitement as they both turn back. 

Wiley gives them a skeptical look, casting a brief look to Nana then back to them. Steve scoops up a bunch of potatoes in his hand, rubbing it all over his face as Ollie does the same thing, both of them moaning out like zombies. 

“Me like potatoesssssss.” Stevie groans. 

“Eat brains.” Ollie groans back and Wiley starts laughing which makes the other two start laughing. But it slowly starts turning out of control, all of them laughing a little too hard. 

Then it happens, Steve snorts and a bunch of the mashed potatoes fly across the table and hit Wiley in the face. Chaos breaks out quickly. 

His face falls quickly, a scream tearing from his mouth as he swipes his face quickly, already crying for their mom. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve rushes out as Ollie cackles loudly, barely breathing which just makes Wiley cry more. “Ollie!” 

“I HATE YOU STEVIE!” Wiley screams, picking up a handful of mashed potatoes from the center bowl, and throwing it right at Steve only for it to hit Ollie. 

“Enough!” Lottie yelps when her daughter reaches for the same bowl. “How about some cake?” 

“No! I’m gonna kill them!” Wiley yells. 

10 minutes later as the family sings happy birthday to Ollie, Wiley keeps leaning over to blow out the candles before Ollie can, which makes Steve laugh. All three of them huddled around the cake and beginning to hit each other as the adults try to keep them all contained. 

Ollie leans forward to blow out her candles but when Flip lifts the cake to avoid Wiley’s attempts he accidentally smashes it into her face. Another wave of laughter hits all of them as her face is covered in chocolate. 

“Happy birthday Ollie,” Steve mumbles with a mouthful of cake, sliding his gift over to her. She unwraps it quickly, smiling from ear to ear when she sees the pack of colored pencils. 

“50 colors?!” She yells out, already standing. “I can’t believe it!” 

-

October 15th, 1983 - Saturday - Wiley 

“Are you serious?” Flip asks, blinking slowly at his son from his spot on the couch, trying to glue a chair back together as the sounds of Via slamming things in her room fill the air. “You’re not messing with me are you?” 

Wiley can do nothing but blink at his father, feeling nervous and excited in the same moment. 

Another thud comes from Via’s room followed by a muffled “FUCK-“ 

“Olivia! Language!” Flip huffs, shaking his head before setting the remains of the chair down and looking at his son. “Go get your shoes. I’ll get my keys.” 

Wiley dashes to go grab a pair of shoes that she shoved in his closet earlier, struggling to put them on because he was moving so quickly as he hears his dad knock on Via’s door. 

“Hey Via? I’m running your brother to the store. You need anything?” 

“No!” She snaps back, followed by another thud. She had been in a mood since her birthday, had come home and marched straight to her room. Not saying a word to and from school the next day and remaining in her room at every other moment. 

Mom said to leave her alone, telling both Wiley and his dad that it was probably girl stuff and it would all be fine. 

What Wiley didn’t admit was he snuck into her room yesterday while she ate breakfast and walked to her desk to see that she had drawn a very detailed flower with teeth on the petals and sprawled across the paper she wrote “Fuck Steve Harrington.” 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew something happened between them last year, but Wiley would ve the first to admit he missed the older teen and he missed the way things used to be. 

“Wiley! Come on let’s go!” 

He doesn’t respond, prefers not to, and rushes down the hall to meet his dad at the door with a wide smile. One Flip matches with his own excitement. 

“I’m about to drop my boy off to hang out with a friend.” He narrates, huffing a bit. “Can’t believe it.” 

Wiley’s eyes narrow at the slight diss hidden in the words, but they were also the truth so he shuffles past his dad to get to the car. 

The ride to the Hawkins comic store was long, not because of the actual ride but more so because Wiley was so excited to get there. When his dad parked the truck in front of it he hops out and meets him around the front. 

“Okay. I’m gonna head to the general store and grab your ma’s prescription. You good here?” 

A nod. 

“No talking to strangers. If you need me then come get me okay?” Another nod. Flip smiles, ruffling his hair before nodding his own head in the direction of the door. “Go knock ‘em dead kid.” 

And he makes sure Wiley gets in the building before walking down the block to the store, leaving his truck there so Wiley would have somewhere to run just in case. 

The bell to shop rings out, causing Wiley’s cheeks to heat as he shuffles inside, looking around at everything within the building. He begins to panic, what if Lucas didn’t show up? What if this was all a joke and -

“Wiley! Hey you came!” Lucas Sinclair smiles, coming around the corner with another smaller figure in tow. “Was that your dad?” 

“Y-yes-sss.” Wiley answers, hand coming up to rub his chest as a form of anxiety. He just had to remember to talk slow and breathe. It would be fine. 

“Dude he’s tall.” Lucas laughs. “Mike has a tall dad too but he doesn’t ever talk to us. His name is Ted. He’s kind of boring but your dad looks cool. I like his truck. Have you read the new Wolverine? I just found it, we can go find a spot and read it.” 

“Are you actually gonna let him speak airhead?” The smaller of the two sneers, her eyebrows pinching together in anger. “Or keep talking over him?” 

“I’m f-f-fin-ne.” Wiley smiles, moving forward to take a closer look at the comic in Lucas’ hands. 

“My parents made me bring her so she can play Pac man. Which she promised to do once we got here so scram forehead.” 

“Whatever Buck teeth.” She snaps back before heading to the pac man game while Wiley and Lucas dash to find a spot to read their comic. 

The friendship with Lucas was new. After school a couple days ago Wiley ran into him at the comic book store and at first he avoided him like he usually does. It had taken one bad play date with the wheeler kid to know that he would not belong in their group. They talked fast and often talked over each other.  He wouldn’t be able to keep up and he knew that his stutter bothered Wheeler. So he had never gone out of his way to talk to them. 

That is until Lucas saw Wiley holding a comic he was looking for and they ended up talking about marvel for a while….. Lucas talked and Wiley tried here and there. 

But he slowly realized that when he did choose to talk that Lucas was willing to wait, and he never talked over him to finish the sentence, he just waited. 

“I invited Dustin but he’s in a bit of trouble because he threw his bike in front of his garage and his mom nearly ran over it. Do you have a bike?” 

“I hav-ve my-my sist-ters old bike.” He explains, shrugging. “S-she spr-spraypaint-Ted it for me.” 

“You should ride your bike to school with us! Dustin passes my place and we normally meet at 7:40.” 

And just like that Wiley Fraser was making friends, and he barely had to talk. 

- 

October 15th, 1983 - Saturday - Steve 

It’s not like he planned on wasting the past two days thinking about Olivia Fraser. That’s just what happened, which was embarrassing considering the fact that he spent most of Friday afternoon sitting with Nancy Wheeler at the picnic tables outside after school. 

She was cute, in that nerdy notebook way. She made him smile and all things considered she wasn’t the worst he had flirted with, that prize went to the muppet from study hall. 

But Nancy Wheeler, as pretty and smart as she was, could not compete with Ollie in his mind. Ever since that interaction at the theater he found that she coated his mind like an oil spill. 

Hey, my tire on the car looks flat; suddenly he remembers the year his bike broke and she had to help him limp home. 

He needed to study for a history exam, suddenly he thinks back to the time they were doing homework at the table and she realized that she had been misspelling her name for years. Which had led to a full blown meltdown and she decided that she would steal his last name. 

Her teacher had sent back all her work with the last name Harrington crossed off on each and every one. And Ollie learned that her name was Fraser and not Frazier. 

Over and over and over. 

But it got bad when Barb reminded him of Nana. That is what hurt his heart the most. 

It was while he and Nancy were packing up after pretending to study and the redhead had come out to take her friend home. 

It started off easy with a simple “can we stop by the craft store on the way home?” 

And Nancy had simply responded “yeah. I love that place.” 

Steve hadn’t even realized the connection, and had been partially listening when Barbs next words made him stop. “Remember that older lady that used to work there? I miss her! She owned the house on Steves street didn’t she?” 

And just like that he is seeing Nana, the very last time he saw her. So frail and tired, so ready for the end and yet still so welcoming. Suddenly he is back to being that bloodied up kid who just needed to be near them. 

“Yeah I think.” He mumbles, snatching his books. “How am I supposed to know?” 

But it clung to him, of course it did. And he was still bothered by it a day later as he pulled into the general store with a bad attitude. 

His mom would be home that Wednesday, so he just needed groceries until she got back and he figured the best time to do so would be early afternoon when the store was at its peak so he wasn’t trapped in the silent house all day. Peak hours meant he could browse the aisles without having to worry about being stopped since everyone was in a rush. 

That was until he saw Flip with a basket in hand grabbing a box from one of the shelves near him. The man still wore his classic flannel, and his mouth was set into a from as he read on the box while Steve tried to figure out what he should do. 

Say hi right? Or had Ollie told him what a dick he had become? He should just walk away and pretend he didn’t even-

“Stevie! How ya’ doing pal?” Flip smiles, coming up to shake his hand. “It’s been way too long, bud.” 

“It’s good to see you Mr. Fraser.” He smiles awkwardly, his hand shaky in the hold of Flips. 

“Oh? Long enough to go back to the Mr. Fraser then? Or am I just that old now?” 

“No no. I just- I don’t know.” Steve laughs, moving out of the way of an older woman passing by. “It’s been awhile. I miss you guys.” 

The admission makes his skin heat up, still nervous about it all. 

“You need to come by for dinner. We haven’t had you over since we moved.” Flip mumbles, setting his basket down and pulling out a small notepad. Steve recognized it as one of the ones he used to carry around for contracting, so he could write down measurements and such. 

Taking the tiny pencil Flip sprawls something across the lines on the paper before ripping it out and handing it to the boy. 

“November 2nd we are making dinner for Lotties birthday. You should come over. That’s the address.” The man smiles, patting his back once more before heading to checkout while Steve stares at the paper in his hands with wide eyes. 

It was like a golden ticket had just been handed to him, a chance to be near the Fraser’s again and be near Ollie again. 

It was obvious he would go for dinner. The only problem was how mad Ollie was going to be when she found out.

{New Chapter out Monday}

[pearlypairings]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEARLY!!! 🎉🎊🎂 the world is a better place because you’re in it.

Birthday prompt:

For the pairing - Jonathan and Chrissy 😜

Scene - baking a surprise birthday cake… but the two of them together, baking it for Joyce (instead of one surprising the other)

Dialogue - "put the icing DOWN."

jonathan x chrissy || fluff, comfort, group hugs || 704 words

A/N: losty! you're always so creative, thinking out of the box and it gave me one of my favorite photocheer hcs now🥰 hope you like this one! JOYCE BYERS, our beloved<3

yesterday's prompt

Chrissy’s face had three different colors of icing smeared from her cheeks up to her ears like a clown who couldn’t decide on a blush color and went with all of them. She’d been crouched at eye-level with the cake, three piping bags, and four icing spatulas for far too long. A bead of sweat threatened to blend the white, blue and purple icings together. Enough was enough, she was becoming obsessed. “Babe, babe.” Jonathan patted her shoulder gently. “Put the icing DOWN.” “One more minute, one-more-minute. I’m almost done with these peaks on the edge—they have to be perfect.” She pushed aside her frizzy bangs with her forearm, lowering the piping tip back to the top of the cake to finish the third decorative row. He helped her get those pesky hairs out of her vision, making sure to tuck the longer pieces behind her ears and smiling at how cute her forehead looked when she was focusing. Ever since she’d come up with the idea of surprising his mom with homemade birthday cake, Chrissy hadn’t stopped planning. Besides listing out ingredients and supplies to gather, there were at least half a dozen sketches she designed for the decorative top of the round cake. “She’s gonna love it no matter what, because we made it. No need to get stressed out over icing, that’s all. She wouldn’t want you losing your mind over something we’re all gonna be chewing up tonight.” Chrissy set down her tools finally and whirled around to look at him, exasperated. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip while she stretched, straightening her spine from the hunched position she worked under.  “No, I know your mom is so good. Good to you, good to Will…” she trailed off to look at the sink full of bowls and utensils stacked high. “And she’s been so good to me, even though I’m not even family.” Jonathan sighed quietly, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss the sugar-coated, tired knuckles with a certain tenderness. “So that’s what this is about? You think you need to give her something perfect to deserve her affection?” “Well, I don’t know, no—maybe, ugh. I don’t know. I just want her to know I appreciate her and love her too.” Chrissy moved toward him, shaking her head and chewing the inside of her cheek like gum. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?” “Maybe,” he said, taking her hand to pull her in close and wrap his arms over her shoulders and down her back. “Or, maybe, part of you still worries that you have to earn things in our family. But the best thing about the Byers is that once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no escaping us once we care about you, we’re like.... a bottomless pit of endless concern and questions and surprise gifts of your favorite gum from the checkout counter. No strings—or perfectly detailed icing—attached.” “God, how did I get so lucky?” Her chin pressed hard against his chest as she embraced him. He didn’t even care that her flour-ey, sugary apron would wreak havoc all over his Smiths' shirt. He could stay like this forever if she wanted. “How did we get so lucky?” His mom walked into the kitchen from her shift, hearing Chrissy’s last question and answering the same exact way Jonathan would have responded. She shrugged off her dark maroon coat, dropping the bag she brought back and forth to work, and hurried over to squeeze them both, planting loud kisses on the tops of their heads. A sudden grasp nearly pinched his shoulder right off when his mom peeked at the counter from around their group hug. “Don’t even tell me that beautiful cake is for me!” Her voice poured out fast and soaked in joy. “You guys are too cute, baking together and making something so sweet for this grateful, old mom.” “Oh, we have candles for when Will gets home later,” Chrissy gushed, slipping her fingers between Jonathan’s. “And extra sprinkles if you wanted more of those and—” And Jonathan couldn’t hear the rest. He just kept thinking about how amazing the two women in his life were. He was the only lucky one here.

[jaxteller87]

A Tale as Old as Time ( xmas themed)

Teenage years

I grabbed my hoodie from my dorm room, unable to find the one I had earlier, before making my way out to the firepit that the boys had set up a little while ago. Mom allowed me and Amber to hang out tonight, and things were going to be quieter than usual, which was a nice change of pace for once. I agreed; I didn’t mind her being around everything, like the club and all, but her parents trusted me, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. So, because of this, I only have her around the club when I know things are going to be quiet.

“There it is, you have it,” I laughed at Amber sitting by the fire with my hoodie on.

“Yup, I stole it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around herself to secure it, “You’re more than welcome to wrestle me for it if you’d like.”

“Wrestle you?” I felt my face get a little red, “So, that’s your end game? Steal my hoodie and then challenge me to a wrestling match; you know I can’t win to get it back?”

“Well, it wasn’t my main plan,” she said, hiding her hands in her sleeves and covering her nose, “I just got a little chilly, that’s all.”

“Nose cold?” I asked, and Amber nodded. She would confess years later that her nose is never cold; she just enjoys the smell of wearing my clothes, especially my hoodies and flannels.

Watching her cozy up in my hoodie, the wheels started turning in my head about her Christmas gift. Last year, I laid down the clay paw prints for Alice and Spike, her dogs. Now, that set the bar pretty damn high. I gotta come up with something that hits the mark, something that recreates the magic she felt when she laid eyes on those casted paw prints.

“I know it’s still a few weeks away, but what would you like for Christmas, Teller?” Amber finally asked, breaking the silence. Before I could answer, she took my hand softly in hers and gently kissed the back of it.

“Umm, a nice flannel would be good,” I smiled at her. “I’m always muckin ’em up at the garage; it’d be nice to have one that I can keep nice.”

“Really?” she laughed. “That’s what I’ve gotten you the last two years.”

“I know, but like I said, I’m always muckin ’em up,” I chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. “Besides, I love’em. I wear them almost every day, even in the summer.”

“I love you,” I whispered, pulling away.

“Me too, Teller,” she giggled. She still won’t say those three little words; it’s always ‘me too.’

“One day, Amber Lynn, I’ll get you to say it,” I smirked.

“Is that so?” she giggled, taking my hand again.

“Yup,” I smirked. And then we just flirted around the fire pit, enjoying the peace, quiet, and each other’s company.

Later that night, we found ourselves cozied up in my bed at home. Amber’s parents gave the nod, granting her permission to stay the night. The room was quiet and warm, punctuated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. It was one of those moments, you know? Where time kind of slows down, and everything feels like it’s revolving around you. It just feels right.

“I’m nervous; if I actually say the words, it’ll all come to a stop,” she whispered.

“What, ‘I love you’?” I asked curiously, looking down at her.

She nodded. “I know it’s dumb; it’s just I’m dating the prince of charming, secretly, of course.”

Yeah, that was the deal at the start of the school year: she would date me if we kept it quiet. She knew I would get teased relentlessly if everyone knew at school. I didn’t give two shits, I’d knocked around bullies for less, but it was something she was adamant about. I chose not to fight her on it as I could tell it just made her more anxious and added stress where stress didn’t need to be added.

“I can hear it now: she said, ‘Jax Teller dating the retard out of pity.’ I told her I didn’t give a shit, never have actually, but to make her more comfortable, I went along with it.

“Amber Lynn,” I sighed, kissing her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, you’re stuck with me forever,” I chuckled, rubbing my nose against hers.

“Forever is a long time, you know,” she giggled, kissing my cheek.

“And I can’t wait,” I laughed, kissing her deeply.

A few weeks went by, and I was putting the hoodie I bought in a cute bag for Amber when my mom walked into the living room.

“You could at least buy the girl something nice, Jackson,” she rolled her eyes, walking by with a half-full laundry basket.

“But she keeps stealing mine,” I yelled as she disappeared down the hall.

Then, just like that, Christmas Eve was finally here. I was at Amber’s to exchange gifts, a tradition we’ve had since we were little.

“Cookie?” she asked, sliding the plate of sugar cookies toward me. “I would love one,” I smiled, biting off the head of Frosty.

She took a moment to decide on her pick, finally reaching for the reindeer and taking a small bite from his antlers. After about a dozen or so cookies and the ending of The Grinch, it was time to do the gift exchange.

“No way, this is awesome, Teller, thank you,” she laughed, holding the hoodie up and smelling it. “Smells just like you!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I chuckled, “You can wash it if you—”

“Never!” she interrupted as she pulled it over her head.

“Here, this is for you,” She slid a bag over to me with a smile. I laughed while opening not one but two new flannels, one red and one blue.

“Oh, hello? There’s something else,” I said curiously.

“Cheesy, but I couldn’t help myself,” a grin stretched across her face just like on The Grince when she saw me uncover the picture frame. It was beautiful, cut from solid birch wood. On one side, the enchanting Beauty; on the other, the brooding Beast, both etched into the woodwork. Engraved across the top is the phrase “A Tale as Old as Time.” And there, in the heart of it all, an artsy black-and-white snapshot of us – Me and Amber, baking cookies from a few weeks earlier.

“I love it; thank you, darlin’,” I smiled, leaning in to kiss her. Beauty and the Beast is our favorite Disney movie to watch. I think it’s because we both relate to the main characters. Some ignorant people see her as the Beast when she is Beauty personified, while on the other hand, people assume I’m the dashing prince of charming, but if you ever saw the things I do under the club’s name, you would without a doubt call me the Beast.

[indigo474]

Sunday fun day run day:)

I'm just about done shopping- 1 more fucking walmart trip.. 1 more. I bought wrapping paper to, well.. wrap gifts. I woke up this morning and noticed Madison used most of it to wrap my gifts.. i can't be mad. she asked me if i thought it was ok if she ate food cooked it butter or lard.. totally fine i said.. does she realize she is asking a non vegan? I ran 4.81 miles.. slow... intervals.. i tell myself i can to anything for 10 minutes.. anything.. it's 10 minutes. running make me unbelievable horny.. i just want to fuck after a run.. that's all. and eat. Dinner with Marci tomorrow.. i wrote out her holiday card with the free pen the republican party sent me.. this makes me laugh.. to think she would stop being my friend over politics is just insane. life would be boring if we all thought the same way. she has a gay sister which i'm sure was a huge deal given her age and Marci's age.. but now its not a big thing and if i ever want to stop being friends with her for some reason ,i could end it by saying 4 words..

Madison and i are spending Christmas eve together.. the plan is to bake cookies, dinner, presents. i'll make a fire. Our first Christmas in our new home. I would like to take a writing class.. not so much a college class although I am open to it- maybe like a non credit writing course. i just need to find one. i have an idea in my head. my goal for 2024 is to spend less time on my phone.. i ordered the Bhagavad Gita- a little light reading to get the New Year started. Maybe i'll find the answers to the questions that keep me up at night.. what is the meaning of life.. is there a meaning? I was an odd child.. i use to read the bible and the dictionary for fun. I had to tell my reps.. the ones close to Ashley, about her baby. 3 of them. 1 cried, 1 asked me why things like that happen to good people, 1 shrugged her shoulders and said.. yeah things happen. Me.. my heart hurts for Ashley.I hope she'll be ok.. which seems so weird to even type.. ok.. how can someone ever be ok after something so tragic? I have no idea. somehow people survive and continue living.. somehow. I think I am ready to unpack my childhood but dam if i dont know how to stat or if i am even capable of writing like that.. something for me to think about..... i'm seeing my mom for christmas and by the sounds of it she is making a ton of food.. i'm not 100% sure why.. i tried to tell her tonight not to overdue it. i have to work Christmas and the day after. I'm going to drive into on Christmas.. i figure it will be a nice drive because no one will be on the road. I have a 3 day weekend for new years and honestly that is all that is getting me through these past few weeks. My life is good. I am so grateful. i believe good things are coming.. more things, people and experiences to be grateful for. this is a new era for me. i am at peace with all that is.. soft and safe.. soft and safe

[pascallllllll1]

I 🤍 MILFS

Pedro Pascal x mom!reader

Summary: Given that reader has a young son, she thinks it’s be hilarious to gift her boyfriend Pedro a shirt that says, “I 🤍 MILFS”. What she didn’t expect was that he’d wear it in public. Fluff.

Warnings: swearing? Reader has a young son

Y/C/N = Your Child’s Name

You couldn’t help the giggles coming out of your mouth while reaching into the backseat of your car for the bag containing Pedro’s surprise, along with a few household items you had needed to grab before heading inside to find your boys. You could hear y/c/n’s yelling and Pedro’s deep laugh as you pulled the door to the backyard open. The sight before you was pure heaven. Y/c/n sitting in the centre of the large trampoline with the biggest smile, Pedro jumping around in a circle bouncing him higher and higher. Thank god I bought the trampoline with the tallest netting you thought to yourself.

“Hey! Look ma’s home!” Pedro says out of breath getting y/c/n’s attention.

“I see you’ve both kept busy.” You reply pulling your son out of the trampoline and in for a hug before setting him down. Your eyes meet Pedro’s as he sturdies himself onto the ground, a smirk forming on his lips before answering.

“Was trying to tire him out so maybe he’d fall asleep early tonight.” Sending a wink your way.

“Mmm smart man-OHHH I seen this while at the store anD OMG PEDRO Look!! FOR YOU!!” The shirt now out held against your body to fully display the large bubbled words.

“What does milf mean, princesa?”

“Means you got a thing for moms, old man.” giving him a peck on the lips. An eyebrow raised he asks,

“So.. since you got me a shirt cause of my thing for moms… does that mean I get to get you one for liking older men?” You playfully slap his arm and both laugh.

“I do love it, thank you baby.” You smile up at him.

“You’re welcome P.”

A few weeks later….

You were awoken by a very hangry toddler that demanded to be fed asap. Coming down the stairs and nearing the kitchen, the sound of twitter notifications were blowing up your phone from its charging spot on the marble counter. Too fucking early for that. After y/c/n’s belly had been filled to his satisfaction he retreated to the couch with his favourite blanket to enjoy Sunday morning cartoons. After taking advantage of this rare quiet and calmness to shower, you decided to check out what the cause of your phone blowing up was. Turns out it was your own doing. Kinda. That damn shirt. While he was stopping for coffee, someone must’ve spotted and snapped photos of Pedro. A few were from before he’d noticed the person and what they’d been doing, but two he managed to pose for.

1. A huge toothy grin plastered on his face, waving, chest puffed out as he was walk out of the coffee shop

2. Said grin turned into a smirk, accompanied by both index fingers pointing to the words on shirt, winking at the camera. Twitter was having a field day. The moms went feral, and because the both of you weren’t publicly together yet due to the age gap, they weren’t afraid to hold back on the thirst tweets. Honestly, most of them just made you laugh more then jealous and some of the really funny witty ones you shared with Pedro to make him smile.

Late that night in bed between your legs and on top of you laid Pedro, face first in your tits your legs wrapped around his waist cock soft inside you. The two of you’ve been like this for a while now just enjoying the warmth of each other.

“Y/n.. I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” Lifting your head to look at him better you try to get a read of his face.

“I want us to be together.”

“P we ar-“ but before you could finish he continues talking softly, refusing to look up or make any eye contact.

“I want us to be together… openly. I want to wear that shirt an other women know I’m talking about you, know that they don’t stand a chance with me because I already have the hottest mom in bed with me right now.” He finishes, chuckling but quickly turns serious again, hiding his face in my chest once again.

“If you’re ready, I’m ready. I love you Pedro.” climbing up to hover over you with both hands on either side of your head Pedro leans down and peppers you with sweet kisses. His lips hover over that sweet spot on your neck.

“Gracias mi amor, you’re end game for me, I want you and the world to know it.” The feeling of his warm wet tongue leaving goosebumps all over your body lips finally against your skin. After he’s sure he’s left his mark he pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear.

“Wanna marry you. fuck a few babies into you.” You snap you head to face him, noses touching, eyes full of lust searching into each other’s.

“Maybe we should try out that second one now huh?”

“I love you so damn much. I’m ordering a ‘I❤️dilfs’ shirt for you as soon as you’re pregnant baby.”

And buy that shirt he did.

[yikimiki]

What about stepbros Zeke & Eren tag teaming their little princess🤭

stepbro!eren x fem!reader x stepbro!zeke | warnings: smut, stepcest, all characters are adults, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, spanking, breast play, praise kink, size kink, creampie(s)

♡ ♡ ♡

You knew it would come to this — it always does. It’s rare that both your brothers are home at once, always busy with either college or work, and, even more so, that they’re in good terms. You have no idea what kind of love/hate relationship goes down in the Jaeger family, but you are beyond used to seeing Eren and Zeke with a frown on their faces when the other walks in, therefore the vision of them talking in friendly terms always catches you off guard.

The text from your mom comes just as you’re walking home — dad and I are out on a date! Zeke and Eren are home and you can all order something to eat — and the late warning has you rolling your eyes. You like your makeshift brothers most of the time (you swear you do) but you seriously need a relaxing night and, by experience, being home alone with the two of them is always anything but.

It all starts when you throw yourself on your bed, groaning loudly at the tension on your shoulders as Zeke walks into your room, hands in his pockets and a curious look on his face. “Tired?” He asks.

“Exhausted. My back is killing me,” you answer, pressing two fingers against your temple. “Mom said we can order something tonight. They’re out on a date.”

Zeke takes a step toward the bed, eyeing you up and down. “We can do that, Eren says he wants pizza.” You nod at his words, expecting him to take a jab at his younger brother’s wishes. It doesn’t come, though, Zeke just sits behind you in bed, two large hands coming up to press against your tense shoulders. When he speaks up again, his voice is husky and low against your ear. “And we can make you feel better if you want, princess.”

Once again, you knew it would come to this. What can you say? You’re weak, and you’ve gone through every excuse in the book in order to convince yourself that what you’re doing with your two stepbrothers isn’t that weird. You’re not biologically related and, frankly, you haven’t even heard of the two of them a little over a year ago. You’re all consenting adults and... they just feel... so good. And they take care of you so well.

It’s an unspoken truth between you three that the two of them work like beasts when they’re in the same tune. Zeke has barely started massaging your shoulders when Eren walks into your room, then is just a matter of minutes and a few shared looks until he is pushing you against Zeke’s chest and spreading your legs so he can take off your pants and lick your pussy clean. The hands that were caressing you are now strongly keeping your body in place, Zeke kissing up your neck as his younger brother makes you whimper and moan.

“Shhh, relax, princess,” he says, big hands slowly sliding up your torso, squeezing your breasts. The motion of Eren’s tongue against your clit is making your vision blurry, wave of pleasure growing faster by the second. “Let your big brothers take care of you. You’ve had such a long day, hm?”

“Y-Yes,” you agree breathlessly. The buttons of your shirt come undone one by one until the white cotton is thrown on the floor. You’re almost cumming as Eren groans against your slit, moving up to kiss your hips, your belly, until his mouth is settling on your nipple. Zeke pushes the two mounds together, bruising the skin as the younger sucks on it. “P-Please let me cum.”

It’s Eren who answers, his nose bumping against yours as he raises his stare to look at you. “You’re gonna cum, princess,” he assures, voice low. His lips are swollen and wet, brushing against yours as he speaks. His next question is not directed to you, but his stare doesn’t falter. “How do you want her?”

Zeke hums, nonchalantly placing two long fingers over your slit. You shiver as he starts rubbing your clit slowly, barely enough to give you any pleasure. “She’s so wet,” he muses, thinking for a second. His other hand moves upward, holding your jaw as his thumb presses against your lips. Eren moves back to watch it too, how you are eager to suck it into your mouth, warm tongue swirling around it. Zeke sighs. “But this mouth is so fucking perfect too. She always sucks my cock so well.”

“So, what is it?” Eren presses on. “I’m being nice enough for letting you choose this time, so hurry up.”

Zeke scoffs. You almost choke on your own spit when he switches his thumb with his middle and ring finger, thrusting them in and out of your mouth. “It’s my turn to choose, you did it last time,” he remembers. Eren rolls his eyes. “I want my cock in her mouth.”

Eren smirks, happy with that decision. His gaze returns to you, to your perfectly overwhelmed face. “Gonna let me fuck your tight little cunt, baby?” He asks. You nod instantly. “Good girl. Hands and knees for me.”

With a bit of maneuvering, everything falls into place. You turn around, facing Zeke, and pull his pants down as you hear Eren’s zipper opening behind you, your bare heat exposed and glistening. Zeke grunts when his cock springs free from his pants, one hand automatically landing on the back of your head as you lean closer to it, warm tongue licking up his length. “Perfect little thing,” he praises, meeting your doe eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. Behind you, Eren sends a surprise smack against your ass, making you whimper around the other’s cock. “Fuck, that’s a good girl, wanna see you choking on it.”

“She’s so fucking horny,” Eren breathes out, heavy cock resting against your ass. You wiggle your body towards him, hearing him snicker behind you, fisting his girth. “Look at this, our little sister is soaked for us.”

“Yeah?” Zeke asks, barely holding back a moan when you suck him. “Make her feel good or I will.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. You moan loudly when Eren’s crown slips between your folds, pushing past the tight ring of muscle and setting into your pussy. He curses about how wet and small you feel, how his thick cock throbs when he bottoms out. You are sobbing around Zeke by the time that Eren starts with a rough, steady pace, throwing your body forward so the other’s cock is pushed deep inside your throat. “Fuck, this pussy’s so good, can’t wait to fill it up.”

“Gonna let your brother fuck you full of his cum, princess?” Zeke asks, pulling on your hair. You moan around his cock, hoping he realizes you’re agreeing with it. “Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and let us use your tight little cunt however we want?” Once again, you moan. Eren slaps your ass again, moaning something about how tightly you’re clenching around him, trying to milk his cum. “Fuck, you know I have to feel that pussy around my cock later. Wanna cum inside too, fill our sister up.”

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren says, sounding completely dazed behind you. His cock is so big that your legs are starting to give in, whimpers and sobs pushing past your chest as you sink your mouth deep around Zeke’s member. You just feel so full, so cherished, that you can’t even remember why you felt so tired in the first place. “She’s so fucking tight, I don’t even know how she can take my cock so deep.”

Zeke breathes out, shivering when you gag around him. “You’re made for it, aren’t you, baby?” You whine out, barely hearing as Eren reaches his high, emptying his balls inside you and fucking himself through his orgasm. You only notice once his cum starts leaking out of you, and Zeke notices it too. “Fuck, that’s our good girl,” he praises, but his touch is harsh as he yanks your head up, teary eyes looking up at him. “I need your pussy now.”

Eren groans behind you, pounding into you a few more times until his sensitive cock can’t take it anymore. Your pretty hole flutters when he moves away, a blob of white cum leaking out. “Gonna get both?” Eren asks, pulling his cock out of you. “Only if I can fuck her throat too.”

“Learn how to share,” Zeke answers. You’re shivering by now, orgasm torn from you twice in a row. Your big brother sighs, caressing your cheek as Eren pushes his cum back inside your pussy, moaning something about how you’re still so tight. “Look what you’ve done to her, Eren, she hasn’t cum.”

Eren clicks his tongue. “Not my fault. Finish her off, then.”

With a bit of teamwork, both of them do. In a matter of seconds, you’re on your back and Zeke is pounding like a madman inside you, stretching you out as Eren’s cum drips down his cock, your thighs, making a mess on the bed. Eren decides to position himself next to you, eager hands exploring your body, teasing your clit as his mouth sucks onto the skin of your neck. When you’re about to cum, Eren pulls your face towards him, making out with you as you reach your high; playing with and sucking on your tongue as your brother spills himself inside your abused pussy.

When Zeke pulls out, you feel the mixture of their cums leaking out of you, and you can’t even process the bickering that follows — Eren wanting you to suck his cock now, Zeke saying you’re too tired — because you just feel so good. Peace never lasts between those two, but, when it does, it brings along amazing gifts.

[ragingbookdragon]

It had been a wonderful day so far. The kids had gotten everything they’d had on their wish-lists, minus the few extremely dangerous toys and flamethrowers they’d wanted. Christmas movies were playing on repeat, their family and friends were sprawled out along the floor and furniture, dressed in matching flannel pajamas, and sipping hot chocolate while eating cookies.

The two of them had gotten up a few moments earlier, her cheeks hot and him simply sighing heavily as their eldest sons had giggled and ribbed their best friends with, “They’re gonna go have sex!”

They managed to make it out back to the yard and stepped onto the deck, breaths coming out in clouds of vapor. “It’s gorgeous out here,” she said, gazing up at the moon. “A perfect way to end Christmas, isn’t it, Bruce? No crime, no fighting, everyone at home, safe and sound.”

His hands wound around her waist, and he propped his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. “A perfect way indeed.” He gently took one of her hands in his. “But I do have one more gift for you.”

“Oh?”

Bruce pulled away and twirled her slightly. “We got married tonight twenty-five years ago.”

She smiled. “How could I forget? All of our friends have to politely refuse coming to anniversary parties because we decided to marry on Christmas.” Her smile brightened when he started humming their song. “I think anytime we hit the big years is the only time they decide to forgo their Christmas day for our party.”

“Like tonight?”

“Like tonight,” she answered, laughing when she heard boisterous shouts and laughter escape from the manor. “So,” she drawled, gazing at him with narrowed eyes. “What’d you get me?”

He pulled away from her and thanked God he had a heated deck as he bent down to his knee, reaching into his pocket for something. “You thought you’d lost your wedding ring the other day, but the truth is, I borrowed it.”

Her brow arched. “What’d you do?”

“I had it fixed,” he replied, cracking the ring box open to show her the band now adorned with a gem in the middle. “To represent twenty-five years.”

She smiled heartfully, eyes misting, and sighed. “Bruce Wayne, you big softie.”

His smile matched hers and he replied, “Missus Wayne, will you reaffirm your vows with me?”

“Mister Wayne,” she answered, letting him slip the ring onto her finger, back where it belonged. “I will reaffirm my vows with you.”

He grinned and stood up, wrapping his arms around her, but before he could kiss her, someone yelled, “MOM AND DAD ARE GETTING MARRIED AGAIN! YOU GUYS WE’RE GONNA BE ALL OVER THE NEWS WITH THE CEREMONY! AGAIN! BETS STARTING AT TWENTY MILLION FOR THE ENTIRE COST!”

Bruce rolled his eyes and turned to glare at Jason who was propped on his elbows out of a window. “Hey chum?” he called.

“Yeah dad?”

“Take this with a grain of sand. Go. Away.”

Jason offered a pearly toothed grin. “Congrats, dad.” He waved at his mother. “Love you, ma.”

As he disappeared, Bruce frowned and muttered, “He didn’t tell me he loved me…only you.”

She snorted and wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying slightly as she replied, “Well, we can’t all be the favorite parent, yeah?”

“But I’m Jason’s favor—”

“You wanna bet?” she asked, cocking a brow. “Because that’s my big baby.”

“He’s our big baby.”

“That he is.” She rested her forehead against his. “I love you, Mister Wayne.”

He smiled widely and listened to the host of family and friends who were running towards the back door and to them. “I love you more, Missus Wayne.”

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

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[xgothixsx]

How original (Chris Redfield x reader)  Winter wonderland part. 1 ❄️

Hey! A little Christmas fic to start out with; a little early but I thought it would be a great idea to start up on it !! So enjoy please !! Also this is the start of my winter wonderland for this year!! 

word count; 1,735

pairing; Chris Redfield x reader 

The store was really busy, it was a few weeks before Christmas and everyone was running around looking for gifts, or food for their fancy Christmas dinner and even decorations. (Y/n) was in one isle, a hand in her (f/c) hoodie and the other holding onto a box as she read the directions, seeing if it was something that she could cook easily, she normally cooked homemade meals since one her boyfriend normally doesn’t get to have those since his job tends to pull him out to where either some military ‘food in a bag’ or even fast food is his only option, and two it’s really cute when he tries to help and is completely confused by certain things. Her boyfriend had run off to get some gifts for his family, and coworkers while she was tasked to get something for dinner that night. Of course Chris was always on top of things and already had everything for Christmas dinner and small decorations for the house the two of them share before the end of November. 

“Sweetheart” rang through (y/n)’s ears looking toward the direction that the oh so familiar voice was coming from to see Chris with a basket full of random gifts, she even saw an air fryer in there. He really does think of everything. 

“You done?” She joked as she watched him roll his eyes at her walking over, standing behind her, wrapping his muscled arms around her waist, and resting his head on her shoulder as he looked at the box. It was some hamburger helping that could be thrown together in fifteen minutes. He knew his girlfriend loved to cook, but tonight he wanted to wrap gifts so there wasn’t a need for something big to be cooked, though he knew this would upset her for some odd reason he would have assumed she would have loved a break from cooking him food. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He whispered into her ear before kissing her cheek, seeing her smile a little at him, which gave him his answer, she was never actually mad at him. He had bought an extra special gift for (y/n) this year, it was already paid for and in a bag hopefully out of sight, that’s why he had grabbed the air fryer, it’s not exactly for anyone it’s more of a cover up that he also knows his girl has wanted for a while of course he’ll cover that up saying it’s for his sister or it’s for Jill. 

“Got a long list? That’s a lot of stuff?” She giggled as she turned her head a little giving the man a small peck as she put the box into the cart, she was a little upset that she wouldn’t be cooking tonight and she wouldn’t be able to see that cute frustration mixed with hard concentration look on Chris’s face when he tries to do what she had written down for him; or even the nice dance they do when they cook together waiting for it to actually cook so they can eat it; but helping him do the one thing he always loved doing apparently as she heard from his sister that wrapping gifts was the one thing they would always do with their parents so she couldn’t complain too much. 

“Of course! We can’t forget anybody!” He said happily as he grabbed her hand and grabbed the basket moving it along. Since everything he needed was grabbed he was pretty much following her around watching her grab a few extra things; something small for her mom and dad, along with a few extra things for Jill and them on top of what he had already grabbed. 

“Now close your eyes” She exclaimed as she was getting ready to grab his gift, he chuckled as he moved his hand up to cover his eyes as she ran away to the sporting goods area, which wasn’t too far from him, and picked up the custom pocket knife she had ordered for him. It had his name engraved on the handle and on the other side was the nickname she would normally call him, she paid for it and then brought it to the cart hiding it under some shirt that was in there. 

“Ready?” He asked raising his eyebrow at the woman in front of him watching her smile and nod; the two of them went to the checkout, (y/n) immediately grabbing the knife and hiding it behind her back as Chris turned away to put things on the belt, and as he assumed she wasn’t paying attention to the cart when all it had was one little bag at the back of it while he was waiting for everything to be rung up, the two paid for it and went out to the car. Chris walked her over to her side opening the door for her and watched her climb in, giving her a kiss before closing the door and going to load the cart and then off they went, driving home. (Y/n) had helped carry in a few boxes while Chris handled the rest of them. As he was ‘fixing’ them in the living room, though really he was looking for a place to hide his special gift for her, though it wasn’t her only one. (y/n) went to the bedroom to change into a comfy set of pajamas with cute little puppies all of it, she loved this set specifically since it was the first gift Chris has ever given her. 

“Look at you. All cute and warm” Chris chuckled looking over his girl’s form in the nice kind of fluffy set, before moving closer wrapping his arms around her smaller body with a smile as she giggled a little wrapping her arms around his neck giving him a small gentle kiss. 

“Obviously- I can’t wrap gifts otherwise!!” She said cheerfully as she turned around grabbing his matching pants and whatever t-shirt he normally would wear making him roll his eyes grabbing them, watching her cutely skip out of the room to get dinner cooking, the little hamburger helping that they just bought. Soon dinner was done and the couple was watching some action movie that Chris had put on for them as they ate, sitting close together with a blanket over them , (y/n) was leaning against his big shoulder clearly the two were at peace. 

“You done sweetheart?” Chris whispered as he noticed that her plate was empty, he watched her move a little stretching out, before nodding at him. He chuckled as he took her plate as he got up as he watched her tip over and fall onto her side onto the couch laughing as she did her little ‘hmph’ as he left to put the plates in the kitchen grabbing two glasses of whiskey. When he returned she had already pulled most of the gifts out to the middle of the living room and grabbed one of the wrapping paper rolls that they had. 

“Excited aren’t we?” He chuckled, walking over to her, placing his hand on the small of her back giving her a gentle kiss on her nice soft lips hearing her giggle a little before the two of them sat on the floor. He pulled their cups down as they split the pile in half to make it fair on the both of them. After thirty minutes, over half of the piles were done and the whiskey was gone.

“Wait here I’ll get some coffee” He said, squeezing her thigh a little before getting up quickly and moving to the kitchen. She took this time to look for the present he got her, she was always curious but could never find her gift and she always went looking before Christmas. She moved very little stuff to see if it was in his pile, but couldn’t find anything and quickly started searching the living room before she came across a box. She’s never seen it before, did she finally find one? Should she open it, should she pretend like she didn’t see it? Now that she’s actually found her gift she doesn’t know what to do. She's never gotten this far, though now her curiosity is killing her. So she grabbed the box, it was soft and velvety. It was so small that for someone like Chris it would be so easy for him to hide it in his hand. She slowly opened it to see a beautiful silver and diamond ring, it was beautiful; but he knows that this kind of thing is only for engagements? There’s no way he was planning on it though, maybe he saw it and thought she would love it. 

Chris had walked back with both mugs in his hands before he saw him opening the box to the ring, he didn’t hide well enough but now she’s seen it, maybe he could lie and say it’s for something else, or he should take his opportunity now? It’s how he would have done it when she opened it on Christmas eve, might as well do it now. He put the coffee mugs down walking up behind her and knelt down on his right knee, as he watched her turn around. 

“(y/n)” He said softly as he took her free hand into his eyes looking up at her (e/c) eyes seeing her tear up a little, was she ready for this, should he try to say it was a prank to get out of it? No he had to do it now, or he would never have another chance. 

“(y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n) I’ve loved you for a long time… would you please… please marry me and spend the rest of our lives together” He finished proposing to her as he watched her tear up even more, before nodding her head, having a huge wave of relief wash over him. He took the box and the ring out, slipping it over her finger before standing up and giving her a huge and passionate kiss. 

After they separated and a rather long hug following lose behind. “Proposing during Christmas? How original” She snorted as Chris rolled his eyes, she said yes anyway; this years Christmas was definitely going to be a good one.  

[qierxing]

Obligations

Yan! Zhongli x Reader

Word Count: 2,837

How long can a man talk before he runs out of air?

Scratch that. How long can this man talk before you decide to strangle him?

"...as such, the rivers, plains, and mountains that are said to have been the remains of what is left of the dead gods remains…."

The intonation of Mr. Zhongli's voice nearly puts you to sleep at the ornate dining table, and if it weren't for the fact that you were at an esteemed establishment (even if you two were in a private room), you surely would've face planted and fallen asleep right there on the mahogany wood. But you don't, because it would be an insult to the very man (and the food) who invited you on this outing.

Mr. Zhongli is a respectable man and apparently, a good friend in your family's circles. Even though you've never met the man till now, even you're aware of his shining reputation; aunties giggling on how he's so charming and polite, cousins admiring his knowledge and strength, and other relatives likewise praising him to high Celestia and above.

And he is, you suppose, very handsome. His face is beautiful; high, defined cheekbones, molten amber eyes that glow warmly, pretty curved pink lips and nose to match. A good face, your auntie would say if she was here. An auspicious face.

“And that is how the geography of Liyue came to be...”

You're sure anyone in your position would be swooning over how his voice flowed like the trickling rivers that ran through Guili plains, but you just wished he would shut up at some point. Not even the delicious spread of food at the glass carousel wheel could distract from his tirade, and that was saying something.

Speaking of, why did he order so much food for only the two of you?

'In Liyue, you can always eat till you drop!' A saying that always echoed among the locals, and still holds true today. But even then, the intricately painted línglóng porcelain holding the remnants of steamed egg soup, roasted duck, squirrel fish, and more and more food, are way too excessive, even if he wanted to impress you.

You idly push around the Tianshu meat on your plate as he continues to drone on, wondering when you can politely excuse yourself without being rude.

-

"So, how was the dinner?" You internally groan as your mom's barely concealed excitement in her voice shows.

"Mama, we just sat there and talked." Well, Zhongli was the one doing most of the talking. But you weren't about to say that, not when you know a lecture awaits that answer.

"Isn't he a very handsome man?" Your mother's eyes gleam dangerously and a resigned sigh leaves your lips as she barrels on confidently. "Doesn't he seem like the perfect husband?!"

"Mama, it's ten in the morning…" What you wouldn’t give to eat your congee in peace.

"He is a respectable man, and quite knowledgeable to boot."

"Not you too, Baba!"

Your father merely chuckles as he continues reading the daily newspaper, and you roll your eyes as he continues chuckling behind the printed pages. Your mother swats at him to finish his porridge, turning to you with a frown on her wrinkled face. You brace yourself, knowing exactly what is coming next.

"[First Name], you're already of marriageable age, you should be looking for your future spouse! Your parents are growing old and when we die-"

"I will be perfectly fine without a husband." You cut her off, rubbing at your forehead. It was too early in the morning for this talk.

"Aiya, I don't want our only child to be by themselves! We will never know peace once we pass away, so much worry-"

You tune the rest of the lecture out, not even having the energy to refute her worries.

When you leave the house to take a walk, you meet the infamous Mr. Zhongli again.

"What a coincidence, I am also taking a walk to clear the mind. Would you perhaps like to join me?" And trapped by societal politeness, and the fact that this man did order you a three course meal the previous night, you agree.

So it's to your surprise that he does not immediately initiate dialogue as the both of you stroll leisurely through the stone gardens in Yunjin terrace, and a comfortable silence falls.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind." You turn to meet his gaze, and then away. Your frustration burns at you in the remainder of the morning's argument, but it dissipates at his concerned face. It is not his fault, you reason, that your mother wants you to court him for a possibility. For fortune. Despite the man's shortcomings, he is nothing but a gentleman.

"I don't want to pry but...I have heard that talking about your thoughts might ease your mind?"

You pause for a long time, breathing out your nose as you close your eyes.

"My parents want me to marry you." You've never been one to mince words, much to your mother's dismay at trying to teach you etiquette. "They think that you're a good match. And they're paranoid about me becoming a spinster."

There's silence for a moment and you open your eyes to not a face of disgust or shock, but rather one of musing.

"And you, [First Name]? What do you think?"

You turn your gaze to the water.

"Honestly? I don't know. I don't know you well enough to make that judgement. I know my parents are worried, but I don't want to get married for the sake of not being alone. I think it's rather selfish, to wish that solely for your partner."

The words tumble out of your mouth, one after another and you wonder how it is that it's easier to confess this to an acquaintance than your own parents.

"I was under the impression that people often like to pursue lasting romance in their lives. It's interesting to see this is not always true." Zhongli hums, hand coming to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"Perhaps? I don't know. I've always been content with my friends." Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. "Who knows? Maybe I have yet to meet the right person."

Zhongli hums again in response, seemingly in deep thought with a small frown pulling at his lips. A silence falls once again, and an awkward atmosphere falls upon the both of you.

"Oh yes, I never did thank you for the delicious dinner last night." You note offhandedly, half distracted by the swimming carp in the clear pond water. The water trails are hypnotic, and they help take your mind off the stressful morning you had.

"It was nothing. For my friend's precious child, that was the least I could do." He modestly replies, and you deadpan. It was nothing? A three course meal at Xinyue Pavillion, nothing? You know that squirrel fish did not have a low price tag.

"Regardless, I'm very thankful for your generosity." After all, not many tolerated your blunt, forthright personality, least of all the potential suitors your mother always brought before you. The memory makes you feel guilty at the irritation you had back then at the dinner. "The next time, I insist we have dinner at Wanmin--I've heard their black back perch stew is to die for. My treat."

He hums, and turns to you with a heartbreaking smile, a far cry from his previous countenance. "Is that a promise?"

You raise your eyebrow, "What are you, Morax? Yes, it's a promise, unless you hate fish, I guess."

His amused chuckles are soft but light a warm hearth in your heart.

-

Your mother is growing more daring than you remember.

She shoves you out the door as if you're some kind of fancy wrapped gift to offer to Mr. Zhongli, and there's a manic glee in her eyes as she eyes you and him standing together like a couple.

"[First Name] has been looking forward to this, haven't you, sweetie?"

The Liyuen hanfu she forced you into were a different cut than the modern cheongsam dresses of the current trends. Archaic, if you dare call it that. While some traditionalists still donned hanfu, it was not as common to see it in the streets. When she was shoving you in the under robes, she muttered about how it was something passed down in the family. Which explained a lot. These days, hanfu like this were something of a rich antiquity.

You sigh deeply, tugging your translucent pibo around you tighter as you decide to humor her, if only to get her to stop embarrassing yourselves and leave faster.

"Yes, quite."

Zhongli hums, and when you turn to face him, you're almost unnerved at how his eyes sharpen and scan over you, pupils slit like a dragon's. The moment is gone in a flash and he merely smiles at you gently before taking your hand in his gloved one.

"In that case, shall we get going?"

The nightlife of Liyue is in full swing and Zhongli tugs you closer, and there's something intimate in the way he presses you firmly into his side, the warmth he exudes sending pleasurable tingles down your body.

"Do forgive me for being so bold, [First Name]," He addresses you so tenderly, that you blush when you look back up from your joined hands, "You look absolutely radiant tonight."

How is it this man manages to say such an embarrassing thing so smoothly? What is his secret? He doesn’t seem like the playboys that often loiter around the downtown area of the harbor. You look away, unable to meet his eyes that reflect the lanterns and make his pupils glow.

"T-Thank you, Zhongli, you're too kind."

His eyes never seem to leave you, even when taking in the lovely scenery of Liyue at night. For the bright lanterns glitter and glow on the ocean waves, but his own pupils are glued to your being when you look in your peripheral.

“Is there something on my face?” Tearing your eyes away from the street in front of you, you turn to meet his gaze straight on.

He merely smiles.

“No.” He pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture innocuous, but leaving a burning trail where his finger tips touch your skin. “I believe we have arrived.”

Thankfully you can excuse the burning in your cheeks and neck away with the spices that the Li cuisine favors. If anyone asks, it was the black back parch stew making you look flushed and out of sorts. Never mind the fact that Chef Mao looks quite amused at the fact you’re sputtering in response to his cheeky questions about you showing up with a man to your favored restaurant.

When you look up from checking to make sure your hanfu didn’t get any stains, Zhongli is uncorking a white bottle and pouring it into your cups. At your questioning look, he replies, “Dàqūjiǔ. The Li technique ferments wheat for about two to three months. This one in particular, has a fine aroma after being fermented for a while.”

“Hoh…” You chuckle at his explanation, “You really do know everything.”

“Hardly. I cannot say I know as much as the regular scholar…nonetheless, to good fortune!”

Echoing his cheer, you raise your cup and drink.

The alcohol burns your throat, and you’re reminded of your low alcohol tolerance. Yet, your fellow friend refills your cup just as easily, and who are you to refuse him? By the time you’re on your fourth cup, your world is spinning and you’ve developed a headache.

“Ahaha…wow...everything...is...moving…” You slur incomprehensibly and slump onto the bamboo table.

“Oh dear, we best get you back. In this condition, you’re too vulnerable.”

“No way...if I go back with you...my mom….she won’t let me…!” You raise your head from the cool table, but the effort of doing that makes you groan.

Zhongli all too easily picks you up bridal style, and after bidding goodbye to Chef Mao with a hefty bag of mora, he walks down the now empty streets of Liyue.

“Won’t let you what, dear heart?” He hums, stroking your face gently with the pad of his thumb.

“Won’t let me...let...us...ugh…”

“[First Name], do you like me?”

“Mmh...yeah…” Is all he gets, but the stilted, jagged answer is enough for him. The content smile that breaks his face belies the haunting glow of his molten eyes.

-

When you step out of the door of your bedroom, you're accosted by your sobbing mother.

"Ma-Mama?! What's the matter?" You frantically ask, pushing at her shoulders.

"Oh my sweet child, oh I'm so happy for you! When were you going to tell me, you brat?!"

"Tell you what?!"

"That you're marrying Zhongli, sweetie! Oh, this is such a momentous occasion--"

You're too shell shocked that you do not hear her next words. What? Marry? Zhongli? What on Teyvat was going on--

"--Hurry up, he's waiting for you in the living room!" You're snapped out of your daze when you're ushered hastily into the room, casual robes and all, right in front of the very person you had so many questions for.

The door shutting behind you does not muffle the excited chatter from your parents and you wince when you hear your mother excitedly bantering with your father. Turning and meeting an intense gaze, you feel like you’ve stepped into an arena with a monster.

"Zhongli, why are my parents under the impression we're marrying?"

His golden eyes crinkle in delight at your blunt words, "Because we are, my dear heart."

D-Dear heart?!

"I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand?" You step back as he rises from the cozy armchair he was given. It only just occurs to you how ridiculously tall this man is, and he towers over you, like a mountain.

"I believe we share a mutual attraction. After all, last night only proved it." He leans over and you flinch as he gently cups your face with a small smile.

"We've only known each other for a couple days!" You protest, leaning your face out of his hands. His smile dips into a displeased frown, hands falling to his sides.

"Why need more time to prove what is already there?" He tilts his head. “If this is a matter about your dowry, I’m sure I can help--”

“This isn’t about mora! Zhongli, this is moving way too fast--”

“Is that so? If I’m correct, I believe that your family’s come upon some hard times, no?” And you’re left breathless, struck silent. “Not down to the pits, but just one little slip and...well, your father’s business is already taking loans, isn’t it?”

Your teeth are grinding so hard against each other to the point where it echoes in your head.

“Marry me, [First Name], and you won’t have to worry about any of that. After all, I’ve always had enough good fortune to share. Are you so willing to crush your parent’s hopes and dreams for their child?”

“I-” Your mother’s tears on her weathered face come to mind, wrinkles from stress deeply indented in her skin. Your father, weary, veiny hands covered in scars from hard manual labor, shoulders slumped from his strength sapping. And you realize with a bone chilling fear that this man, this man was threatening to destroy the very foundation of your life.

He smiles upon seeing your uncertain visage, gritted teeth, clenched fists and trembling body.

"You'll look beautiful in red and gold."

-

How numb you feel!

Having to sit there while being dressed, being fawned over by your cousins, cried over by your mother and aunties, and your father and uncles chuckling over your good fortune. All the while, you cannot bring yourself to bring even the fakest smile to your face, only being able to muster up a sheepish smile, but it is of no concern, as everyone seems to mistake it for a shy front for a person about to marry their true love.

At least that’s how your mother is spinning it to your giggling aunties. And even when the festivities are over, you know that this is not the end.

Bare fingers trace your cheeks and lift your veil as a chaste kiss is placed on your lips.

This was supposed to be a day of joy.

Said fingers begin to trail down your body, and more sobs begin to shake your body. When you think about it, this might be the first time you felt his skin touch your own. Zhongli has always dressed conservatively, even covering his hands with his gloves. Thinking about it longer makes your skin crawl.

This was supposed to be--

Zhongli hums appreciatively into your collarbone as he slips your wedding garb off your shoulders, your world collapses and dims, with only a haunting amber light as your guide.

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”