#really thank you so much for sending this ask

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[gracieheartspedro]

Cherry Stems

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

description: eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. so you use them to your advantage. piss eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. maybe.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, age not specified but i imagine eddie/reader are 20+, porn without much plot, major teasing, reader is a brat, mentions of eating food, reader has no food aversions, nicknames, reader is flirting with eddie's bandmates, jealousy, possessiveness, name calling, face grabbing, eddie is lowkey a dom, unprotected p in v, fingering (vaginal), oral fixation, eddie puts his fingers in your mouth a lot, reader gets off on being bullied, orgasm denial, cum play, cum eating.... think that's it.

author’s note: hi i wrote this in one night. i am a whore for eddie, what else can i say. i'm also down to take requests, so if you see this, hey, send me an ask. maybe i'll cave and do some. as always, thanks bestie girl @amanitacowboy for helping me with this. let's never forget how much of a whore we are for this man. it keeps me (in)sane <3

Eddie had been teasing you all night and it was really starting to get to you. 

After a pretty electric performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his friends decided that they were hungry for some burgers from the empty Shiny Diner nearby. You had already had enough of Eddie’s shit at this point, so as soon as you sat next to him in the big half moon shaped booth, you knew it was game on. 

From eyeing you while he sang filthy lyrics from the stage, to the way he was working his hand up the hem of your dress when you sat at the bar, Eddie was truly being a menace. When the band got loud in the car on the way to the diner, you decided to make your move. You had rested your hand on Eddie’s crotch while sitting in the bucket seat next to him. While Eddie loved giving a good show, he was not keen on letting his friends see you in such a way. So he brushed your hand away and gave you the ‘not now’ eyes. 

You were for him and him only.

It aggravated you to no end, watching him rejoin the conversation with the guys, while you crossed your arms in disappointment.

But you were going to push some buttons tonight. You were going to get him back.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were all very sweet boys. Each of them have never been nothing but respectful of you. Gareth had known you longer than Eddie and he was actually the one who introduced you two. Jeff was usually a know-it-all, but he never dared question anything you said. And Grant… he was just quiet. Always following along with the antics and very well mannered. 

While you respected all the boys back, you also knew they found you attractive and that you could take advantage of that. After one specific smoke session together a couple months back, Eddie asked them all if they had a crush on you. He only ever said things like that to make them squirm. Teasing each other was the way they showed their love for one another. He also liked to remind people that they never stood a chance with you. And they all said that of course they found you pretty, but they would not dare go after you. 

Well, for one night only, you would give them believe they had a chance. Just to piss off Eddie. 

You had done this before. A year into your relationship, you had unintentionally made him jealous and it led to the most mind blowing sex of your life. The sex was so memorable that you do not even remember how you made him jealous. 

You needed that just about now. 

You were the only group there along with the waitress and line cook, so you were not worried about making a scene. You game plan how you were going to achieve such a feat as you scan the diner menu. You already knew what you wanted, but spotting the milkshakes on the list of drinks, a light bulb went off in your brain. 

The older waitress took down the boy’s order while you sat quietly staring at the menu. When it came down to you, you look up at the white haired woman and smiled. 

“One chocolate shake, extra whip cream and cherries, please.” You hand her the menu and glance over at a confused Eddie. You usually got a Dr. Pepper and a cheeseburger value meal, hold the lettuce. 

“Not hungry, baby?” He asks, reaching out for your black painted nails. You slide your hand away, acting like you are reaching for something in your purse. 

“Just wanna try something new.”

You pull your lipgloss out, still not looking over at Eddie. You twist off the top, placing the applicator on the middle of your bottom lip as your eyes flicker over to Grant’s. He is not paying much mind to anything, his eyes looking towards the window behind you. When he takes note of your gaze, he finally looks at you. 

You swipe the gloss across your lips, smirking devilishly. 

“What did you get, Grant?”

He thinks for a beat, realizing even he forgot what he ordered. “Uh… BLT with onion rings.”

You smack your lips together, rubbing your top lip on the bottom one painfully slow. 

“You gonna share your onion rings?”

He was not expecting the question, his lips curling upward before he chuckles. You can feel Eddie’s body stiffen as you ask the question. 

Grant nods, though, “Of course. You can have some-” “Baby, you’re not gonna eat his food.” You shoot a glare at Eddie, tossing your gloss back in your pocketbook. “Grant said I could, so… yeah I am.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you are trying to do. You disguise your pleasure at his curiosity, rolling your eyes and pointing your attention at Jeff. He’s positioned right next to Grant, fiddling with his fingers. Before you can press him with a question, the waitress comes and puts down your drinks. She’s missing your milkshake. 

“That’ll be out in just a moment,” She says, grabbing her tray as she returns behind the counter, seemingly preparing your shake. You watch Jeff fiddle with his straw wrapper and you finally decide to bother him next. 

“Is that Dr. Pepper?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Jeff always got Dr. Pepper, just like you. It’s something you two bonded over often. He just nods, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage. You look over at the waitress quickly, seeing she’s still fiddling with the milkshake blender. 

You grab Jeff’s ice cold glass, your eyes glistening with innocence, “You mind if I have a sip? I’m parched.” And of course he’s too confused to say no. You pull the drink over and once it crosses to your side of the table, Eddie’s hand presses into your bare thigh. You do not react, taking Jeff’s straw into your mouth and sucking in a big sip, your eyes never leaving his. Once you pull the plastic away, you smirk. 

“Thanks, hun.” You push the drink back to him slowly. His cheeks heat up instantly when he notices your lipgloss on the tip of the straw. Eddie’s hand only squeezes more, trying to get you to look over at him. 

He wanted your attention so bad, his body curving closer to you. You can feel his gaze stuck onto the side of your face. 

Before anyone says anything else, the white haired lady returns with your chocolate shake. You giddedly grab the glass and stuff a straw into the frozen drink. 

You use your tongue to toy with the end of the straw, pulling it into your open mouth. Your eyes flicker away from Jeff and take aim at Gareth, who’s seated right across from you. Since he’s known you so long, you can already read on his face that he knows what you are up to. He may be a nice guy, but he too loves to fuck with Eddie. 

He was going to help you in whatever way possible. Instead of you initiating conversation, he speaks up. 

“Chocolate, huh? Thought you’d like vanilla.” Your eyebrow quirks up. You know Eddie’s face is bright red next to you. The heat radiating from him is pressing into your shoulder and thigh. 

“You got me pegged as a vanilla girl? That’s a bit offensive, Gare,” You smile, calculating your next move. You look down at the pile of whipped cream on the top of the shake. You drag your pointer finger across the top, gathering the cream all around it. 

You hear Eddie whispering beside you. “You better fuckin’ not.”

You smile, bringing your finger to your lips, not peeling your eyes from Gareth. You know the tension is palpable because Gareth’s smile is only widening when you lick the cream off your finger. 

The other guys are gawking at you at this point. You were putting on a show and they could not even fathom that it was happening before their very eyes. 

Gareth finally says something, nodding at the milkshake. “And extra cherries?”

“Gareth-,” Eddie’s voice fades over yours. 

“Oh yeah! You know I can tie the stems with my tongue?”

Eddie’s rings are going to be imprinted on your leg with how tightly he’s gripping onto you. You grab one of the cherries, getting your fingers covered in more whipped cream. You lean your head back a bit, your nose facing the old tile ceiling. You drop the cherry in your mouth, stem up. Tilting your head back, facing Gareth, you pull the cherry off the stem between your teeth. It’s unbelievably sensual the way you chew the red fruit. 

You show each of the boys the stem, even Eddie. When you glance over at him, you do not believe you have ever seen him so annoyed. He’s not hiding it well. You drop the stem on your tongue, returning your gaze over to Gareth. 

You roll the stem around, using your teeth slightly to do the stupid party trick you learned in 10th grade to impress a boy. It’s not impressive when every hot girl in school could do it, too. But nonetheless, it was something you could do to layer on the eroticism of the moment. 

When it’s tied, you contemplate taking it out of your mouth and showing it off. Maybe even drop it in Eddie’s hand. Instead, you decide to just extend your tongue out and show the stem on the very tip of your tongue. 

The color drains from Eddie’s face. It’s the end of the show for him. 

He grabs your forearm, ripping you out of the booth. You look back at Gareth, who’s still smiling, all the while Jeff and Grant look even more confused.  

When the fresh air hits you when he slams the glass door open, you flick your head to the side and spit out the stem in the gravel. His grip is so tight around your arm as he drags you to the van. It’s parked on the far side of the lot, occupying a spot that’s backed up to some woods. 

“What is wrong?”

Asking such a question only pisses him off further. Once you reach the van, his left hand flings the side door open. He practically tosses you onto the shag rug that lines the very back of the vehicle. 

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” His voice is intimidatingly deep.

Your legs hang out while Eddie stands over you, his hand resting on the top of the van. The back of your knees feel the sting of the frayed metal that hinges the door shut. You swallow, contemplating if you should continue messing with him. With the way he’s looking at you, you felt that this was not going to lead to the jealous sex you two had before. He’s actually angry. 

“You pushed my hand away when I wanted you earlier.”

Your voice is so small and unsure. His eyes narrow at you, his mouth slightly ajar in complete disbelief. The silence hanging in the air makes your heart rate increase. 

His mouth closes and you watch his jaw clench, “So you flirt with my friends right in front of me? Even when I explicitly said you better not.”

With his free hand, he swats your bare leg as you squeeze your thighs together. “Answer me.”

You watch the red mark appear on your flesh and decide to keep playing into the game. You had nothing to lose. If he’s actually angry, you could always have amazing make up sex instead. Eddie could not stay mad at you for too long. 

You shake your head, lifting your chin up in defiance. “All I did was tie a cherry stem.”

He does not accept that answer, slapping your thigh harder this time. 

You knew then that you had him where you wanted him. His eyes were giving him away. His pupils dilated as soon as he realized that you did not yelp at him slapping you around. 

Your eyes widen, watching him jump into the van beside you and dragging you back further. He slams the door, rattling the hunk of metal. The only light being let in is from the front windshield. A hazy warm lit streetlight only lights up Eddie’s face as he’s pining you to the ground. 

He positions himself between your legs, pushing the back of your thighs up with his knees. The skirt you chose for the occasion was pretty flowy, so it slid up your hips as soon as he props you up. “You want to act like a whore in front of my friends? All ‘cause I slapped your hand away earlier?”

His voice does not even sound like his. You hear the jiggling of his belt as he asks you the question. But the more twisted Eddie was, the more aroused you felt. You were drawn to him the first moment he teased you and bullied you a bit. You got off on him being callous. 

“Words. Now.”

You look down between your legs and see his cock springing free from his boxers as he shoves them down his thighs. You groan, the pulsating at your core coinciding with your heart rate. “Wanted to get your attention.”

He smacks your inner thigh, painfully close to your pantyline. You moan at the action, propping yourself up a bit more on your elbows. You watch as he carefully drags his pointer and middle finger under the hem of your lace. He smirks to himself, “That’s not what I fuckin’ asked.”

His fingers dip under your underwear, gathering the slick between your folds. You throw your head back, unable to hold back the sob as he spreads you open. You were putty in his hands, always bending to him. “Yes, Eddie.”

Your response leads to him sliding his fingers inside your cunt, a wet squelching noise filling both your ears. Your back thuds against the rug as your muscles give out under his touch. He fucks you with his fingers, the look on his face unreadable. He usually takes his time with foreplay, but this was different. He was testing how far he could take you in a limited amount of time. You were in a parking lot with his friends less than 500 feet inside, he could not take his time torturing you. 

His fingers retract from your pussy, gripping onto the lace of your panties and tearing them down your legs. When he sits back on his heels, you watch his long cock bounce with his movements. It sends a smile across your face. When he zeros in on you again, he tilts his head to the side. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.”

It makes you giggle at first, unsure if he’s really being serious. But when his face does not twist up into a smirk like it usually did, you realize you were in trouble. He takes ahold of his dick, leaning forward onto you. Your mouth falls open as you study Eddie dragging his tip between your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. 

He sinks into you, raising your hips a bit to meet him straight on. The stretch is always overwhelming for you at first. You and Eddie fucked at least three times a week, but he always made you cum before shoving his cock deep inside you. Stretching you out for a couple minutes with two fingers is not enough for you. He hisses when he pulls back, his hands grasping onto you for dear life. 

He wastes no time setting a bruising pace. There’s no build up, he is simply taking his annoyance out on you. You are reaching out to anything around you, trying to find something to hold onto as he rams into you. You find a sweatshirt nearby, squeezing it as tight as you can as you breathe out to relax your pelvic muscles.

“Eddie, please-” You try to say, throwing your head forward. He shifts your hips a bit more, opening you up wider. As he does that, he rakes his hands upward, pushing your skirt up higher to your belly button. He shakes your head to your pleas. 

“Eddie, please.” He mocks, relocating his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. When your jaw unhinges, Eddie inspects your tongue as he drills into you. “Put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Ed-”

He sandwiches your face harder, cutting you off from being able to say anything. He fills your mouth with the two fingers that were plunging inside of you earlier. The taste of your own arousal is still present on his fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits. You mewl as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. “Shut up,” he orders, his face centimeters from yours, “Now suck them while I fuck you.”

You have no way to talk back, so you do what he says. You hallow your cheeks out, lathering all your saliva around his fingers. The build up in the pit of your stomach only gets more intense when Eddie hoists your leg up over his shoulder. You clench around him, tears pricking your eyes as you vibrate his fingers with your moans. 

“Do not fuckin’ cum yet,” He warns, pulling his fingers in and out of your mouth. His hips are faltering as he chases his own climax. Your body feels like every nerve ending is about to implode under the pressure of you holding back your orgasm, and Eddie can sense that. He drags his fingers out from your lips, rubbing your own spit into your lips. He grabs your jaw with the same hand, pulling your face closer to his.

“Say you’re mine. You’re only gonna be mine.”

You nod, knocking his forehead slightly. “I’m only ever gonna be yours, Eddie.”

With your foreheads touching, you watch as he falls apart inside you. 

And with three vicious snaps of his hips, he spills his seed deep inside you. He does not let out a sound. His mouth is agape as deep heaves fan your face. 

When he finishes, he slides his cock out of you and sits back on his knees again. Him exiting your body is so frustrating, you want to scream.  

He uses one arm to hold your one leg back as spit covered fingers swipe up your cunt. His spend is leaking out of you and you know if he works his usual magic, you will cum in 30 seconds. 

“Please, Eddie. Please let me cum.”

He smirks villainously, “Why should I let you, hm?” He spreads your pussy lips, getting a good look as his cum dribbles down to your asshole.

You are getting desperate. You never had to beg Eddie to cum, ever. He was always so generous. 

“I promise I’ll be good. Please, please.” He chuckles dryly before sinking his fingers back into you. “Fine. Since you asked so pretty and promised to behave yourself.”

His fingers scissor into you, that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach returning. As his two fingers make work at your entrance, his thumb swipes your clit in meticulous circles. His bottom lip is tucked under his top teeth, watching you fall apart on his fingers. You are practically chanting his name as he brings you to your peak. 

When your chest heaves, finally relaxing from your orgasm, Eddie slides his digits out of you and brings them up to his plump pink lips. He licks them clean, just like you did with the whipped cream earlier. 

“Hm… Don’t see how Gareth thought you were a vanilla girl,” He states, smiling sinfully at you. “You, my dear, are a fuckin’ vixen.”

-

tags of friends who may like this idk (if you wanna be tagged in the future, just lemme know <3):

@hockeyhughes @pedgito @mediocredreams @the-unforgivenn

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts - Pt IV

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x SingleMom!Reader

WC - 5.6k

Summary - A snow day prompts Steve and Abbey to spend a little one on one time together.

AN - sorry this one took a little longer! being creative is hard when the U.S keeps sucking me of all my joy. thanks for the patience, love y’all! ~ emma

Three weeks ago, your daughter’s kindergarten teacher gave you his phone number in a chilly, deserted diner parking lot, and every weekday since that night, Abbey has had to all but drag you from his classroom when you go to pick her up in the afternoons. One topic leads to another and another, and before you realize it, you and Steve have been chatting in his mostly empty classroom for over an hour. But this morning, you’re dialing those digits he gave you on your landlines keypad for the first time with shaky fingers. You’d spent the past hour exhausting all your other options. Your mother? Working. Your sister? Out of town. Your usual babysitter? sick.

Steve was the only person you knew for a fact wouldn’t be working today.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to that you hadn’t called yet. Every waking hour since that night, you had been wrestling with yourself about what an appropriate reason would be. Was he flirting with you? Did he genuinely just want you to have access to him in case of an emergency? Both? Your inner dialogue was deafening– like a squawking bird in the back of your brain.

The intrusive volume of your thoughts seemed to quiet now as your leg bounced impatiently– anxiety over the prospect of having to call into work outweighing your trepidation– waiting for him to pick up the call on the other line. 

He finally answered halfway through the fourth ring, “Hello?” Despite the early hour, Steve sounded wide awake. Probably rousing at the same time you did, not expecting to be temporarily blinded by three feet of bright, white snow piled on top of his car. On the kitchen radio, you can hear the newscaster announcing a closure of the local schools.

“Steve, it’s Y/N,” your voice cuts through the static.

He pauses briefly, yours probably being the last voice he expected to hear when he picked up his phone, “Hey, morning–” he clears his throat, “everything alright?”

“Yes– well– I don’t know.” You rub the tips of your fingers restlessly over your closed eyelids, “I don’t have anyone to watch Abbey with the school being closed, I've tried everyone and I really hate to ask but–”

“Of course, I can be there in thirty. Can you give me your address?”

“Are you sure, Steve? I can just call out if–”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just give me your address,” his incredulity and lack of hesitation sends the wings fluttering about in your stomach again, while cementing the reassurance of his words. You gain the courage to repeat your home address for him to write down.

You can hear the sound of pen hastily scratching paper, then after a few beats of silence he speaks again, “It’ll take me a little bit to clear off my car, but I’ll be there as soon as I can,”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t mention it,” you can hear the grin in his voice, can picture the flash of perfect white squares, “see you soon,” you breathe a heavy sigh of relief at the click of the receiver being placed back in its cradle. Abbey is bundled up on the couch watching Rugrats, a bowl of cereal in her lap. Normally, you wouldn’t let her eat in the living room, but you needed respite from her usual game of 20 Questions to make some phone calls.

“Hey, Ab,” you say as you approach her, thoroughly engrossed in her cartoons, “Is it okay if Mr. H comes over and watches you today while mommy goes to work?”

The question is more than enough to pull her focus from the television screen. Her face lights up like the Fourth of July as she nearly spills her cereal with the force of her straightening on the sofa, “Really?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes, grandma is working and Julia is sick. Is that okay?” As excited as you know she is, you want her verbal confirmation. Mostly because you’d never put your child in a situation she’s uncomfortable in; but a smaller, more selfish part of you wants to be absolved of the guilt you feel for having to leave her all day.

Your wish is granted almost instantly as she squeals and hops off the couch where she’d been lounging, placing her bowl on the coffee table. Halfway to her room, she calls, “Mommy! Where are my coloring books?”

“They’re on top of your bookshelf,” you call, “don’t make a huge mess, please!”

“I won’t!” She replies, muffled through the drywall separating you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You hadn’t had time to tidy the house or make yourself look even remotely presentable before Steve arrived. If it weren’t for the relief that floods your body upon seeing his car pull in the driveway, you might even be a little embarrassed. Booted footsteps shuffle up the porch as you’re shoveling things into your bag at the last minute, followed by three light knocks on the door.

“Coming!” You shout from where you stand in the dining room.

Before you even have the chance to reach the foyer, Abbey is darting from her bedroom in plastic play shoes and throwing the door open with immeasurable enthusiasm.

“Hey–” Steve starts, expecting it to be you before he realizes who’s greeting him, “Oh, hi Ab,” he waves to the little face staring up at him, “Where’s your mom?”

“Mommy!” Abbey calls, “Mr. H is here!”

Steve spots you holding two pieces of notebook paper clad with chicken scratch scribblings. You look frazzled– hair thrown up hastily and scrubs wrinkly. He scours the place where he would normally find an emotion akin to pity for your distressed state, but in its absence, he only feels endearment laced with a little concern.

He doesn’t get a word in before you’re shoving the papers in his hands and spouting off information that he’s praying is already on the sheets you’ve given him.

“I should be home by five, if anything happens, this–” you point to a barely legible number, “--is my work phone. This is her doctor’s phone number and she’s allergic to peanuts. There aren’t any peanuts in the house but–” you sigh, exasperated with yourself, “just in case.”

The rest of the pages are filled with ramblings about which channels Abbey likes to watch and how to work the television. How, in case she needs a bath, you have to pull and then twist the knob for the hot water to run. That she is not, under any circumstances, allowed to put nail polish on by herself and where you keep her Epi Pens.

Steve’s surprised at how many of these sentiments he already has catalogued. He’s required to know Abbey’s emergency contacts and that she has a nut allergy for his job, but he knows that channel thirty-seven has the best cartoons because Abbey once told him that Power Puff Girls was her favorite– and you’d already relayed to him the hilariously tragic tale of what happened the last time Abbey attempted to paint her own nails.

Despite this revelation, he doesn’t dare interrupt you. He indulges your ranting, a grin creeping involuntarily along his face.

“-- sorry, I’m rambling– I’ve just never left her with someone who wasn’t my mom or her sitter before,” you’re a little breathless after two straight minutes of talking.

“Hey, hey– you’re okay,” he wastes no time reassuring you, “you know I’d never let anything happen to her.” You nod your understanding, “Besides,” now he’s speaking to Abbey, “we’re gonna have a super fun time right?”

She shouts, “Yes!”

He looks at you with his brows raised, amused, “See?”

“Okay, alright,” you kneel down, chuckling, “do I get a hug? Or am I chopped liver?”

Giggling, Abbey wraps you in a suffocating embrace, like always. Her excitement for Steve has never quelled her affection for you, and you can tell that she’s still hesitant to see you go. You smack a kiss on her cheek, grabbing your bag from the floor as you rise again.

“Swear you’ll call me if anything happens?” You ask him one more time, already knowing the answer.

“Cross my heart.” He smiles fondly, stoking the flames burning bright around the cage that your heart inhabits.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Your home is cozy, much cozier than anything Steve had growing up. He’s warmed at the idea that Abbey has the privilege of growing up in a house that feels so lived in– stains on the carpet, soft edges and yellow lighting. There’s clutter on the kitchen counter by the microwave and colorful alphabet magnets securing several bright pieces of artwork to the fridge.

“Are these the pictures you drew in art class last week?” He asks Abbey, who has been trailing behind him all through the house, pointing things out to him as they go.

“Uh-huh, Mrs. Morse helped me with that one,” she points to what Steve thinks is probably supposed to be a zebra.

“Well, you’re very talented, I love them,”

“Can we go play outside?” She asks, drawing out the last syllable and completely ignoring Steve’s compliment.

“Sure we can,” he chuckles, “where do you keep your snowsuit?”.

Abbey takes Steve by the wrist and leads him to the coat closet by the front door. Similar to the rest of your house, it’s stuffed to the brim– full of puffy nylon and heavy winter boots. He catches a glimpse of a familiar brown and green jacket– his jacket. You’d promised to wash it and return it to him, but it must’ve slipped your mind. He grins to himself at the reminiscence as he fetches Abbey’s snow gear and shuts the door.

Steve hadn’t dressed appropriately for a morning rolling around in the cold. He had slipped on a pair of your mittens, probably meant more for fashion than practicality, because his fingers were already completely numb. But he can’t seem to deny her when Abbey pleads with him to make snow angels. They’d just spent the past half an hour building two snowmen– one short like Abbey and one tall like Steve, she insisted, as she wrapped her scarf around the snowman that resembled her.

“Please, Mr. H?” She begs when she notices his hesitancy.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “but then we’re gonna go inside and have lunch. Deal?”

That appears to be a good enough covenant for her, “Okay!” Abbey exclaims, falling fairly harshly to the cushioned ground. Steve braces himself for tears, but Abbey only keeps laughing in that contagious way as she begins spreading her arms and legs out beside her in a repetitive motion.

“Are you gonna make one?” She questions from her place on the ground.

He grunts as he reluctantly lowers himself down next to her, anticipating the icy wetness waiting underneath him. The snow seeps uncomfortably through his jeans, but the sound of Abbey’s unbridled joy nearly makes up for his soiled clothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

What’d you want to eat, Ab?” Steve calls from the pantry while Abbey changes out of her wet clothes in her bedroom.

“Not hungry!” She calls back.

He sighs, expecting her stubbornness– she was nearly as mulish as you.

“Remember the deal we made earlier?” He asks, “That if I made a snow angel with you, that you’d have to eat something for lunch, right?”

She emerges from her room, pout prominent on her strikingly adorable features, “But I wanna keep playing,” she whines, giving her foot a little stomp on the linoleum for emphasis.

“We can keep playing after, I promise,” he knows he’s not winning this battle without a compromise, “does your mom let you eat in the living room?” He asks with a lilt to his voice that makes him sound conspiratorial.

“Sometimes…”

“How about…” he pauses as if thinking, “I make us some food and we watch a movie while we eat?”

He can tell he’s got her after that– hook, line and sinker. She still pretends to mull over his proposition for a moment before agreeing, “Hmm…I think that sounds good,” she settles, trying and failing to mask her elation.

That’s how Steve ended up, plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in hand, dodging barbies and miscellaneous stuffed animals on his way to the living room a few minutes later.

“Have you found a movie yet?” He asks Abbey as he sets the plates down atop the coffee table.

“Yes but–” she jumps on her tiptoes, “I can’t reach it,”

Steve walks over to the towering shelf of VHS tapes in front of her, “Which one are you trying to reach?”

Abbey points at the tape in question, “Home Alone,”

“Alrighty,” Steve says as he grabs it with ease, “Your foods on the table, go sit while I put it in,”

Abbey, for once, does as he asks– bounding over to the coffee table with the excitement typical of a five-year-old who has an adult's permission to break a house rule.

While Steve eyes your VCR, he catches a glimpse of a photo out of the corner of his eye, causing him to pause. It’s you, no older than twenty, holding a swaddled baby in a sterile hospital room. He doesn’t recognize the picture as one he’s seen before.

Of course you’ve never seen it before, he thinks, you barely know her. Get a grip.

You’re filled with such youthful brilliance in the shot, despite the underlying weariness of having just given birth; your hair tied messily into a bun at the nape of your neck, sweat beading on your brow bone. It’s just you and Abbey, Steve thinks her father must’ve been the photographer.

He can’t help but think of himself at that age and all the stupid shit he was doing. How, if you had handed him a baby then, he wouldn’t have known the first thing about what to do with it– but here you had raised such a bright, healthy daughter and largely alone. He was struck by such a sudden and overwhelming admiration for you that he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

“Mr. H?” Abbey asked, mouth full, “When are we gonna start the movie?”

Her question sends him hurling back to reality. A reality where he’s your daughter’s kindergarten teacher, and the two of you are friendly with each other at best.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

At some point during the movie, once their lunch was reduced to crumbs on empty plates, Abbey had hauled out her box of coloring books and crayons that she had been looking for this morning.

Steve, the less creative of the two, was coloring in a cartoon illustration of a fairy while Abbey was making her own drawing on a piece of white construction paper. The lack of constant chatter is a welcome reprieve, but he knows that Abbey only becomes quiet when she’s particularly concentrated, so he chances a peek to his right at what she’s working on.

She got a death grip on a brown crayon– shaved almost down to the tip– with her tongue sticking ever so slightly between her lips as she focuses intently on her art.

The picture is of three stick figures– two tall and one significantly smaller in between them. It’s set at what looks to be a playground, a bright yellow sun in the sky and blue scribblings around white clouds. Swings, slides and even a little blue dog adorn the rest of the background.

Pleasantly surprised at her artistry, Steve says, “That looks amazing, Ab!”

She’s snapped out of her stupor, her face split with a wide toothless grin. She doesn’t thank him, only lets out a few bashful giggles at his praise and says, “I like yours too,”

“Is that you?” He points at the littlest figure.

“Mhm, see? I made her hair curly like mine!”

“It looks just like you,” he agrees, then draws her attention to the other figures, “Is this your mom and your dad next to you?”

“This is mommy,” she points, “I put her in the blue clothes she wears at work,” he knows she’s referring to your scrubs, but the phrasing makes him chuckle.

“And this is you!” She circles the figure she’s drawn with the tip of her finger. She’s included his voluminous chestnut hair and his silver wire-framed glasses, even one of the stupid striped polos he wears at school. Looking at it now, it’s obvious who it was supposed to be– but it’s so unexpected that he feels his face heat up at the realization.

“Oh, wow, Ab– That’s–” he grapples to find the words to express the juxtaposition he’s found himself in. He’s honored, truly, to be included in this portrait Abbey’s made of herself and her mother– her family– but there’s a gnawing guilt he can’t seem to shake. The fear that, in some way, he’s replacing her father.

“I love it, Ab, thank you,” he smiles fondly at her work, the proud grin she wears slowly melting the flash freeze of trepidation that encased his conscience.

“Can we hang it on the fridge for mommy to see when she gets home?” She asks after a moment.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Around four o’clock, Abbey begins asking what they’re having for dinner. Steve wonders briefly if you always have to deal with her being so ravenous.

“How about we start cooking now? That way it’ll be ready for your mom when she gets home,”

“Okay,” Abbey concurs. Steve wouldn’t consider himself a Michelin star chef by any means, but he can make a mean chicken parmesan.

A trip to the grocery store was needed to grab some ingredients. After scribbling down the required items on a crumpled receipt, and struggling for ten minutes to get Abbey’s carseat in the back of his BMW, they’re on their way.

He meets her eyes in the rearview mirror, “Do you want me to put on some music?”

“Christmas music?” She asks hopefully.

Steve isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas music– Christmas in general, really– but he obliges her request and turns the dial to their local channel, soft bells and a choir of voices begin to flood through the interior of the car. She really is so harmlessly manipulative with her saucer eyes and round button nose, he can’t seem to refuse her anything.

Steve drives more cautiously than he thinks he ever has, even more so than when he was sixteen and learning how to drive with his family’s Pontiac as his father stared harshly at him from the passenger seat. He comes to a full halt at every stop sign, and he never takes his eyes off the road.

After fighting some early rush hour traffic, they make it. Without a second thought, Abbey grasps Steve’s hand while walking through the parking lot. He tries not to look startled at the sudden contact, recalling how she always seems to have a firm grip on your hand in public spaces too. Steve’s just glad she feels comfortable with him.

“Can I help?” Abbey asks as Steve grabs a cart from the corral.

“Course’,” he smiles, “do you wanna grab the ingredients and put them in the cart for me?”

She bounces excitedly, “Sure!”

Wandering through the aisles, Abbey never strayed from Steve’s side. Every time he read off an item, she would dutifully fetch it and throw it into the cart with a little more force than necessary, but Steve didn’t mind.

“Do you live by yourself?” She asks out of the blue as they peruse the store.

“I do,”

“Then how come you know how to cook?”

He laughs at her inquisitive nature, “Well I have to eat don’t I?”

“Yeah…” she ponders, “I guess so,”

“Alright, the last thing we need is breadcrumbs,” he informs her, scanning the shelves.

Like earlier, Abbey attempts to stand on her tiptoes to try and reach the can in question, “I’m getting it,” she mumbles in determination, very much not getting it.

“Here,” Steve says as he lifts her up by her waist like it was second nature to him.

“Got it!” She exclaims, tossing it in with the rest of the groceries. “Can I ride in the cart now?” She yawns with a polite hand over her mouth. He supposes grocery shopping takes a lot out of you when all the shelves are at least five feet taller than your head.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles as he slots her little legs through the designated holes.

Despite the ride home only being about ten minutes long, Abbey manages to doze off– lulled to sleep by the subtle hum of the car's engine. Steve veered as gently as possible into the driveway, careful not to disturb her even though he was about to wake her up anyway.

“Abbey,” he shakes her softly, “we’re home,”

Abbey rouses, but only slightly. She yawns again and stretches with her arms over her head before extending them out, silently motioning with her eyes still closed for Steve to carry her inside.

“Okay, c’mon lazy bones,” he grunts at the angle but lifts her from her car seat nonetheless. After unlocking the door one-handed, he sets her carefully on the couch and covers her with a plush throw blanket before heading back outside for the rest of the groceries.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The first thing you notice when you approach your front door is the savory smell of something cooking. Inside, the TV is off and your daughter is sleeping soundly on the couch. Quiet clattering noises flood from the kitchen.

The sleeves of Steve’s burgundy sweater are rolled up to his elbows and the kitchen smells of roasting chicken and mahogany as he stirs a simmering pot of homemade pasta sauce. He’s humming some tune softly under his breath– Bob Segar, you think.

“Hey,” you greet with a grin as you set your bag down on the dining table. Steve turns around to meet you as you ask, “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking?” He replies.

“No, really?” You deadpan back, eliciting an amused chuckle from the man standing at your stove.

“Abbey was asking about dinner,” he pauses, “we were gonna do this whole thing– we were gonna make it for you together, have it ready by the time you got home, but,” he gestures with his arm to the living room where Abbey is napping. Steve Harrington is nothing if not expressive– talking with his hands, eyebrows always either furrowed in concentration or raised in amusement. It’s one of the most charming things about him, you think.

“Well, thank you,” you say, “you didn’t have to do that,” you feel a blush heat your cheeks at how domestic this feels– like you come home to Steve cooking dinner for you and your daughter every night. You can picture it as easily as if it were your actual reality and it leaves you feeling briefly vertiginous. You’re not sure Jeremy ever cooked even one meal for you in the entirety of your relationship.

“The chickens almost done and then I'll get out of your hair,” he assumes a teasing lilt to his voice to disguise the fact that he feels like he’s overstepping– overstaying his welcome or crossing some invisible line.

“Are you kidding?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta at least stick around long enough to see how it came out,”

“You don’t mind?” He asks hesitantly.

“Steve, of course I don’t mind,” honestly, you think you’d start a fire and burn your house to the ground if it meant getting him to stay just a little longer to help you put it out, “plus, I’m sure Abbey’ll be stoked.”

“Alright, well,” he smiles warmly, “it’s ready if you wanna go wake the gremlin up,”

At the table, Abbey insists on sitting next to Steve in the chair across from you.

“This is delicious, Steve,” you compliment.

“Best you ever had?” He teases, but his phrasing makes you choke a little on your pasta.

Abbey makes a twisted face, “The sauce tastes funny.” Saved by the bell.

“Abbey!” you scold playfully, poorly concealing a laugh behind the back of your hand, “Sorry– I think she’s just used to eating Prego,”

“That’s okay– I think she’s right, actually,” he assures you, twisting his expression into something sour and causing Abbey to giggle. His eyes are the color of rich soil as he sends you an oh, so familiar look across the table, communicating another silent thought to you. One that says, I don’t mind how blunt she is, I think it’s endearing.

When dinner is finished, Steve insists on doing the dishes for you too. “You cooked, Steve, let me–” you try to barter.

“--You do enough as it is,” he counters simultaneously.

“You watched my child all day!” You laugh at his stubbornness.

“I do that everyday anyway!” He argues, beginning to fill up the porcelain farmhouse sink with hot, sudsy water.

“At least let me help,” you give him that wide eyed look you always seem to be giving him lately. God, you’re no better than Abbey. “You wash, I’ll dry?”

“Fine,” he tries to frown but his smirk betrays him in his act of faux annoyance.

After a few minutes of stuffy silence, you ask, “She wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass today, was she?”

“Not any more than usual,” he jokes and a plate slips through his fingers, causing a small splash of water to coat your face in dishwater. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh– Sorry!--” he tries to apologize, but you take your dishwater soaked fingers and flick them in the direction of his own face– small soapy bubbles clinging to his lashes and eyebrows.

“I cannot believe you right now,” he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“There, now we’re even,” you smirk.

“I’ll let it slide. This time.”

“Mommy!” Abbey rushes into the kitchen, “Can Mr. H stay to watch a cartoon before bed?”

“I don’t know, baby, it’s getting late,” you can just barely see the flash of heartbreak in her gaze before Steve interjects, “It’s okay, I don’t mind staying for a little longer,”

You send him a skeptical glance over your shoulder, but he just nods and asks Abbey what she’d like to watch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The end credits for an episode of The Rugrats flashes across the screen, illuminating Abbey’s sleeping face in muted shades of blue and orange. She snores, slumped against Steve’s chest with her arms wrapped around his torso. You sit propped against the other arm of the couch watching them intently– trying to memorize the sight before you. You’ve never seen Abbey cradled like this before by anyone else except you. It wasn’t something you felt you craved until recently.

Steve turns, catching you staring but not calling attention to it. He can count on several hands the amount of times he’s done the same to you– Steve Harrington is many things, but he is not a hypocrite.

“Did you know the guy from Devo wrote the theme song for this?” He gestures towards the television.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he replies, “I can’t remember who told me that,”

After a few beats of hushed silence, you say, “Should probably put that one to bed– unless you wanna be here all night,” you try to joke but your voice shakes.

He would if you were sincerely asking. He’d stay right here on this uncomfortably worn sofa, with your daughter whom he has such an affinity for, sleeping against his chest for the next millenia. He’d fossilize here if he could– your presence beside him calm and grounding like an anchor in a storm.

He voices none of this. Instead he says, “Do you want to take her?”

“It’s okay,” you wave him off, “I’ll just come with you.” The three of you slowly make your way to Abbey’s bedroom, Steve carrying her bridal style against his torso and the door creaks on its hinges when Steve pushes it open with his hip. She stirs only a little when he sets her down, but is soothed quickly with a firm palm stroking her back a few times.

The door clicks behind you as Steve leads you both back to the living room.

“I should probably–”

“Do you want–”

You begin to speak at the same time, awkward chuckles leaving both of your nervous lips.

“You first,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was– just gonna ask if you wanted some wine, but I know it’s late–”

“Wine sounds great.” His lips form a line across his face as he grins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Half a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and your hands were tingling from the effort it was taking not to reach out and card your fingers through the hair of the man sitting across from you.

“How come you never called?” He asks suddenly, but not unkindly.

“Hm?”

“You never called– well, not til’ this morning at least,”

“Didn’t know what counted as an emergency, I guess,” you shrug, the alcohol shaking your nerves loose.

He must’ve been feeling in a similar way to you– speaking freely in a way he wouldn’t have before, “Just wanted to talk to you,” he smiles fondly.

“Oh,” you whisper, and when you don’t say anything else, Steve changes the subject.

“I like that photo of you on top of the entertainment center,” he says contemplatively, “you looked really…peaceful,”

“Well, raising a miniature version of yourself tends to age you a bit, I suppose,”

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, testing the waters.

“Always”

“Where was Jeremy in the picture?”

“We always talk about me,” you roll your eyes spiritedly and release a contented sigh, “Tell me why you really came to Maine,”

“Don’t deflect,” he teases.

“C’monnnn,” you draw out the last syllable, “answer,”

“I asked you first,” Steve chuckles.

“Jeremy wasn’t at Abbey’s birth,” you admit, it's immediately like an aching weight removed from the length of your spine– one that's been there consistently for years. “He didn’t even want me to have her,” you scoff humorlessly.

You had told almost no one this before. For the sake of keeping appearances, even after he passed, only your mother and sister knew that Jeremy had pushed for you to terminate your pregnancy when he’d found out; and that only once your daughter was actually born did he want to be involved in her life. The burden felt shockingly easy to lay at Steve’s feet, like someone might confess to a priest. This tender man sitting across from you– whether it was the wine or simply his presence, you aren’t sure– but it felt so effortless to be vulnerable right now. Your soft, white underbelly on display for him to do as he pleases, trusting him to have a gentle touch.

“That fucking sucks,” he knows you well enough by now to understand you’ve never cared for empty platitudes, so he doesn’t bother schooling his bitter, empathetic expression, “M’ sorry,”

Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, you say, “Your turn,”

“My old man was an abusive, drunk asshole,” he says frankly, “I don’t know if I ever saw him sober,” he huffs a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. “I needed to get out– to see what else there was, you know?” He asks, and you nod, “He died in my sophomore year of college. Didn’t even go to the wake.”

“Well, I’m really glad you ended up in this shithole,” he laughs at that, “I think you’re pretty neat, Harrington,”

“Thanks,” he deadpans, “Juries still out on you,” he pokes your side and you giggle like you’re a damn teenager again.

You swat him lightly on his bicep in retaliation, and before you know it, you’ve both succumbed to a fit of contagious laughter. When it begins to die down, you’re closer to him than you’d been before. It steals the breath from your lungs and your heart thrashes inside your ribcage like a wild animal.

You’re gazing at each other now, heads light from the alcohol and dizzy with proximity. His heavy lidded gaze lands on your lips for a second too long, and then he’s pulling your face flush to his own by the sharp edge of your jaw.

It’s a soft kiss, but it’s maddening nonetheless. His lips are plush and smooth– malleable against yours. You huff a surprised breath of air, but don’t pull away. One of his calloused hands is resting firmly on your waist while the other one snakes up tenderly to hold the back of your head. You feel that familiar itch to bury your fingers in his brown tresses, so finally, you do. What realistically only lasts a moment, feels like hours before he’s pulling away, nearly frightened.

When he looks at you, his doe eyes are wide with fear, glassy with the impending fallout of what he’d just done. He stammers, “I’m sorry–that was–” he runs his hands down the length of his guilt twisted face.

“No– Steve, It’s okay, I–”

“I should go–” he says quickly as he slips his shoes and coat on, not even bothering to tie the laces, he grabs his keys, “I’m sorry I’ll– I’ll see you on Monday,”

He’s closing the door behind him before your mind gets the chance to catch up with your mouth. You wished to tell him that it was okay, that you liked it– that you wanted him to stay and never leave again.

But it’s too late. You’re left alone in the stifling air of your living room, half a bottle of wine on the coffee table and your heart on the floor.

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383

divider cred - @cafekitsune

[onsomenewsht]

I've got peace and I've got love

About a surprise for your birthday even if you hate your birthday

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 for anyone who needs to feel celebrated

Birthdays are a complicated matter.

You don’t hate them, no one really does.

People should be loved loudly, their mere presence on Earth should be reason enough to celebrate them.

You care about your family and your friends, baking cakes and inflating balloons and dressing up for a themed party are not a problem - you’re the first one to arrive and the last to leave.

Celebrating your birthday though? Hell, no.

For most, it doesn’t make sense.

A day in a whole year when anyone is entitled to be under the biggest spotlight, getting gifts and all the wanted attention. Yet, you’d rather hide in the remotest corner of the planet than hear someone sing “happy birthday” to you.

Despite the insistence and the repeated attempts over the years, your mother has finally accepted that you don’t want to make a big deal out of it. Your best friend has accepted that you’ll avoid a surprise party like the plague. Everyone who knows you, knows it.

Alexia included.

At least she knows now, after last year.

The two of you got together just shy of three months before your birthday. Bless her good heart, she thought a surprise ambush might be appreciated.

She’s not going to make the same mistake twice in a row, but she wants to do something.

“You told me she hates birthdays”, Alba points out, a bit confused, sipping her coffee as if her sister isn’t in the middle of an inconclusive rant.

“She hates her own, not birthdays in general”

“I still think you should just buy her a nice present, wish her a happy birthday and move on like she asked you to do”

“It seems so, I don’t know, incomplete?”, the blonde tries to explain, “How do I make sure I show how much I appreciate her if I can’t celebrate her?”

“You better celebrate her every day, not just on the birthday–”

“I do it, idiot!”

Alexia is quick in her jab, but thankfully the younger girl is used to her attitude by now.

Cup saved from any spill, Alba barely has enough patience to give another, simple pearl of wisdom, “So do it like any other day, but, you know, on her birthday”

It’s good advice, even if she’d never admit it.

Alexia spends most of her day off plotting, her free time during the week before your birthday completely taken over by careful planning and prep.

You can tell immediately that something is off, but you let it slide because she’s cute when she’s on a mission, and you don’t really want to spoil her fun.

At the stroke of midnight, like a mischievous fairy godmother, your best friend calls you to sing a personalized rendition of “Die, Die My Darling” like every year since you’re sixteen and think you’re oh-so-funny.

Your mother sends a present from the entire family, along with a picture of a cake you’re not going to eat but you’re glad they’ll enjoy in your name. Alexia’s mother and sister send flowers, and you have to reassure your girlfriend that it’s a genuinely appreciated sentiment.

Said girlfriend kisses you for every year spent on this Earth and then moves on, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen.

It’s suspicious, really suspicious.

The day passes by without any major incident.

At work just a few colleagues know it’s your birthday, they politely hand you a card with bad jokes written all over it. You mindlessly send the same three reactions at every text message, nonetheless appreciating everyone who remembered and took the time to wish you a happy birthday. A kind waitress adds a slice of dessert as you pick up take-out at your favourite Mexican place, probably prompted by Alexia when she ordered over the phone and sent you to the restaurant.

Guard down, you open the door to your girlfriend’s apartment, still not connecting the dots.

Thank the goddesses and gods above for that nice waitress, because what you find inside is definitely a first and the food wouldn’t have survived the surprise if not for the well-secured package.

Soft music - that, to your shame, you only realise too late is your favorite record - resonates through the room, which is filled with dozens of floating balloons reaching the ceiling.

You take a few tentative steps inside, noticing pictures carefully tied to each string with numbers scribbled on the corners.

Snaps of the past year, memories so simple in their significance you sometimes fail to give a good measure of. Dinners out with friends, an unflattering portrait of an early morning during the summer, the first time holding your niece. You linger over a photo of you and Alexia talking on Mapi’s couch, neither of you looking at the camera, as it’s clear you had eyes only for each other.

“I’ve never seen this one”, you whisper, emotion thick in your voice.

Your girlfriend is leaning on the further wall of the entrance, a confident stance failing to hide a note of nervousness. The way her hands are buried in the pocket of old sweatpants and her eyes are studying every single macro-expression shifting on your face are a clear tell for you.

"Ingrid sent it to me some times ago”

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”, she agrees easily, still not daring to come closer.

Alexia’s gaze drops as soon as you notice there’s a handwritten message on the back of every photo, her cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the time to read each one attentively, smiling at her thoughtfulness and the care she put into all the moments chosen. People and occasions that hold meaning for you, no matter how big or small. You feel love in every single one.

“You put a lot of thought into this”

“I had to sacrifice a couple of good ones”, she mumbles, almost upset with herself.

The commitment to matching the number of pictures to your age it’s impressive, you have to admit.

A burst of laughter fills the entire apartment, Alexia finally meeting your gaze and taking in how moved you’re by her surprise.

The fear of overstepping had been like an annoying voice, whispering in her ear as she scribbled on the back of the photos or tried to wrap gifts without running out of patience or tape.

“Do you like it?”, her doubt creeping in her voice.

“I don’t hate it”, you joke, still eager to ease her worries, “No one has ever put this much thought or effort into– I don’t know, celebrating my birthday, I guess”

“You deserve to be celebrated”

You take the few steps to fill the gap between you two, food forgotten somewhere behind, and throw yourself into her already open arms.

“Thank you”

“I love you”

The kiss you share is a clear enough answer. Sometimes, it’s not even necessary to spell it out - action speaks louder than words, they say. She holds you for as long as you need, music still playing softly in the background.

“Is this a good moment to mention that you have to open as many presents as you have in years?”

“Alexia!”

[beah388love]

Dyslexia Problems

Full Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you and Lando both have dyslexia

Warnings: swearing, dyslexia (if I’ve missed any please tell me!!)

You had gone golf with Lando and max for the day and they had randomly decided to go live on twitch. You was sat in the cart trying to cover your phone from the sun so you could read your text out but you huffed when all the letters were jumbled because of your dyslexia. “Lan? Is this spelt right?” You asked as you looked up to him as he held the camera.

He held his hand out and read your text but shook his head with furrowed brows when the letters were also jumbled from his dyslexia too. “Chat how do you spell neighbour?” Lando asked and looked at the chat to see the word repeated, some in caps.

“Okayyyyy thank you guys” Lando said with a little laugh as he typed the letters in on your phone and let you hit send.

“Thank you chat!” You said louder so they could hear you whilst max took his shot.

That was not all though….

Stupidly max asked you to read the subs out on the camera “thanks…uh- daivid? And thanks…kivy? For the subs” you smiled as you positioned the camera to look at max and Lando who were having a little play fight ending in Lando trying to poke max’s ass with the golf club and max running away with his hand covering his ass.

“Idiots” you shook your head behind the camera.

Chat:

User1: LMAOOOO THEIR SO FUNNY

User2: not y/n calling everyone the wrong name 😭

User3: ITS VICKY NOT KIVY 😭💀

User4: is she stupid?

User5: she’s dyslexic bro

You knotted your brows as you read the comments, “omg! Guys have I been calling you the wrong names?! I’m so sorry!” You gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth when you realised what the chat was talking about.

“Max! You take the camera! I suck at this job” you said dragging a hand down your face, “what are you talking about?” Max asked confused as he took the camera off of you.

“I can’t read the chat or their names…sorry guys” you said with an embarrassed smile “dyslexia?” Max grinned and you nodded “alright baby your turn!” Lando said as he handed you your golf ball.

“Thank you baby” you smiled as you took the ball from him.

“Y/n has really bad dyslexia guys” max explained as he read through some of the comments. “Yeah she hates it” Lando agreed with a nod of his head.

“You have dyslexia though” max pouted confused on why you hated it so much “yeah but hers is worse than mine and she loves reading but she has to use the text to speech thingy” Lando explained and max nodded “yeah she hates it” Lando gave a tight lipped smile but smiled when you walked over, he instantly wrapped a hand around your waist.

“Also chat- I didn’t wanna play this stupid game-“ I murmur to the camera but got cut off by Max “it’s a sport not a game” he corrected me for the 100th time.

I roll my eyes to the camera. “It’s a game.” I whisper to the camera making lando stifle a laugh.

……

This also occurred on streams…for example the time when Max was streaming with you and Lando.

You had somehow been given the job of calling out and thanking the subs..again.

“Thank you…uh- poopy?” I tilt my head and scrunch my brows as I read the username out and gasp when I read it again “sorry-! Sorry- I meant poppy..! Thanks poppy for the subs” I correct myself embarrassed

I hear lando’s laugh behind me as I’m sat on his lap, “Lan. it’s not funny-“ I roll my eyes playfully but he can’t help his laughs.

“Babe- you called her poopy?-“ he wheezes out whilst laughing, hiding his face in my hair from the stream. I shake my head smiling “I didn’t mean to!” I cover my face embarrassed.

Max is trying to bite back his laughs as he tries to focus on a game. He looks to the comments and bursts out laughing at all the jokingly offended fans.

I feel Lando squeeze his hold on my waist slightly “babe?” He whispers into my ear and I hum “mh?”

“Want your coloured slip thingys?” He asks quietly and I shake my head “no it’s fine..can you just read the subs out?” I ask and he nods “yeah.”

He continued to read the subs after that. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw the twitter posts the next morning…they did make me laugh.

…

Your dyslexia would also affect your texts…which were also pretty funny-

Lando was sat on the sofa at your shared apartment. max was also there but he was on the other sofa. Lando scrolled through instagram bored until he got a text from you.

Lando tried to read it and sighed, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He rubbed his forehead and looked up when max chuckled “what?” Lando asks

Max laughed “has y/n texted you?”

Lando nods “yeah- how’d you know?” He smiled confused

Max chuckled “cuz you look like your trying to read a different language” Lando laughed shaking his head

“Here you try and understand what she texted me.” Lando chuckled and handed his phone to max.

Y/N: Can yuo garb me smoe ciream?

Max knotted his brows as he tried to read it “fucking hell mate- how do her eyes make her think that’s right?”

Lando chuckled “don’t ask me.” He said as he took his phone back and texted back.

Lando: babe. I just had a headache trying to read that.

Y/N: gbra em some icremea?

Lando: it still ain’t spelt right babe.

Y/N: seriosly?

Lando: just call me. I cant keep trying to read this.

Max Fewtrell added to his story

Landonorris: I acc have a migraine after texting her.

Ynusername: blame my dyslexia not me ✋🏻

McLaren: you think her texts are bad..we have to deal with her emails!

User1: LMAO NOT MCLAREN CALLING HER OUT

User2: I WANNA SEE EM NOW 😭

Lewishamilton: relatable.

Ynusername: hey! Give me a break.

User3: how r her replies making sense if her texts don’t?

Landonorris: y/n uses autocorrect and speech to text to help her

Ynusername: idk what id do without it 😔✋🏻

…

This would also cause problems between her and her radio engineer, Fred.

“Freddie?” I ask into the radio as I hold the steering wheel tightly, going around a corner on the track.

“Yeah y/n?” He responds through the radio

“There’s something wrong with the uh- screen thingy-“ I say and Fred furrows his brows

“Uh- ya sure..? I’m looking now and it looks fine?” He asks confused

“It says I’m going at 013mph?” I ask confused as I ready screen on the car.

I hear Fred’s small chuckle through the radio “y/n- it’s your dyslexia. It says 103mph” he explains and I can’t help my embarrassed smile under my helmet

“Oh- I forgot about that. Thanks Freddo.” I giggle through the radio.

Fred chuckled “it’s fine. The cars fine though right?”

“Yeah- it’s fine. Just my dyslexia.” I giggle

I do another turn and sigh “Fred- what’s the gap?” I ask confused

Fred looks down at his screen “uh- Max is…0.845 seconds behind.” He reads and I nod

“Okay” I say as I try to remember the track in my head. I go to turn right but quickly swerve left.

“Shit- fuck- oops-“ I curse under my breath and I hear Fred through the radio

“What happened-?”

“I uh- I just forgot my left and right but it’s fine-“ I giggle quietly “sorry.”

Fred can’t help his laugh “don’t worry- just try to remember next time yeah?”

…

Or another struggle for you and Lando was cooking…

Lando was streaming whilst you and him baked or shall I say tried to bake a cake.

Lando was leaning against the counter, holding his phone with the recipe on it “uh- babe? I think we need help.” He says with knotted brows.

You look over to him “what? Why?”

Lando tuts as he tries to read the ingredients “I can’t make it out.”

You roll your eyes “lemme try” Lando scoffs lightly “okay- but I highly doubt you’ll be better than me.”

You try to read the ingredients and instructions but it’s all jumbled and messy “uh…never mind then.”

Lando chuckles and looks to the camera “guess we’re having pasta tonight chat.”

You giggle and nod “yup! Pasta it is.” You say as you grab different ingredients.

…

Lando, you and Oscar were doing an F1 game interview thingy for fun.

The interviewer had given you all your own white board. The game was that Oscar would have to guess the word that you and Lando got.

The interviewer smiles “okay- start.”

Lando and you look to the word on your boards. Lando tilted his head confused “uh…”

You also knotted your brows confused as you looked at the messy word. “Uh…lan? What does it say?” You whisper.

Lando chuckles “no idea..”

Oscar shakes his head amused “how the hell do I guess if you don’t know the word?”

Lando laughs lightly “uh- I think maybe you should do the word and me and y/n guess it.”

The interviewer giggles and nods “okay- switch if it’s easier”

Lando and you switch. Oscar chuckles “this is why we never let you two team up. You guys are awful together”

Lando nods with a laugh “two dyslexics.”

You giggle and nod “perfect match” you joke

[scam-alerts]

IMPORTANT - Art Commission Scam

I have updated the art commission scam post with critical and terrifyingly new information that has come to my attention. (Thank you @elrealelchunk!)

Scammers are now threatening to send your private information to law enforcement if you do not send them money.

This is 100% a scare tactic. You do not have to comply.

Your information is safe. Remember, they are scammers.

Just remember the golden rule:

You should never have to give money to get money.

Please make sure to share the updated version of the art commission scam post, and if you know artists, or even follow artists, ask them if they are aware of this scam, and if they're not, please make them aware of it by sharing this post:

This is just... so horribly disgusting. The fact that this can really mess with someone mentally and make them lose out on hundreds of dollars. How much of a deplorable excuse for a human being can you be to try and scam someone like this.

PayPal would never say something like this to someone, and the fact they're stooping this low just infuriates me.

Art tags are added and are relevant because as many artists as possible need to know about this as this would affect their livelihood.

[ahappydnp]

so sorry but ive seen two different things about this now and im very lost, why did people think they were breaking up/broke up in 2012??? pls help me understand, wise keeper of the lore. thank u so much

response under the cut for general 2012 discussion/too long

basically 2012/2013 used to get (and sometimes still is) generalized as this dark and awful time period where dnp "hated" each other and us, when in actuality it was two very young very scared closeted queer people who were in the process of several major life changes at once while also dealing with a new exploding fan base

there's a few big things from that "era" that people talk about:

deleting old posts- around this era dnp deleted a ton of old tweets/formsprings/dailybooths that could read as them being in a relationship. they were blowing up online and had more eyes on them than ever before, not to mention had just starting working with the BBC (where being queer would have greatly affected their careers). also keep in mind dan was still in the closet to EVERYONE, and now he's got tons of fans going through his accounts and sending shit to HIS LITTLE BROTHER on tumblr asking if dan's gay. anyway people decided them deleting early tweets meant they had broken up

dan's customerservice tumblr blog- in the middle of them blowing up and people finding all these old posts, dan in an effort to control the narrative, makes a new blog for people to anonymously ask him questions (: which went about as well as you can imagine for an extremely defensive closeted 20 year old with undiagnosed depression. basically he said some unfortunately things out of fear

the video leaked again- won't get too much into that because of the subject matter, but the yeah the video leaked for the second time except this time way more people saw it/shared it and dnp actually had to respond to it this time. which is. just fucking awful and heartbreaking all around.

phil persona- basically this was the birth of the amazingphil persona that'd follow phil to the quiff era. he became more sanitized and less personable than original phil fans were used to (which got romanticized into uwu he's sad because he and dan broke up and now he's shutting down)

"no homo"- pretty self explanatory...people asked if they were gay (every single day constantly on every platform) and they would say no because what else are they going to say. this one particular vyou where dan's actually trying to make people think kills me (x) god he was so young. but they'd also started doing the "omg i don't want to see you naked/ew people want us to kiss" and the infamous "you need a girlfriend" "my future wife" etc etc.

the breakup rumors mostly stemmed from and became popular/ treated as fact by younger fans who kind of saw them as these fictionalized characters (which i mean not to blame them because they were literal children and youtubers were still so new that people did treat them like tv show characters you could be friends with). it also got turned into more sinister theories like the "dan is abusing phil" ones and "phil is actually gay but dan isn't and just used phil for attention and fame in 2009"

there was also factors like them moving to london in 2012 (and people were CONVINCED they'd stop being friends in london??), people thinking them getting popular would mean they'd get girlfriends like other popular youtubers (shoutout danrific shippers), and most importantly just them sharing less about their personal lives with their audience. like of course they're not going to live tweet their day/location anymore when people are showing up at their house and trying to find their families.

basically, dnp were putting boundaries between themselves and their fans, but the fans interpreted it as putting distance between each other. in actuality the 2012/2013 era was full of some really amazing memories and content and things people loved (literally the photobooth challenge is from 2013!! sleeping phil saying i hate you is from 2012!!!)

in conclusion, imagine building a forever home with your ex lmao

[shurisneakers]

hey I wanna say I absolutely love your writing ,English is not my first language but your writing cracks me up every time I absolutely adore your work! I wanted to throw in an idea for misery loves company because I really like the grumpy×grumpy ,what about them being loners/grumpy in a wedding,maybe it's Steve's or someone else on the team and they share a quiet dance on the balcony or something so yeah that's my idea ,again love your works ♥️♥️♥️♥️

a/n: hello! thank you for your kindness and for sending this in, I hope you like it <3

this is part of misery loves company but is just a stand alone fic. you don’t need to read anything before this

warnings: swearing, light angst

You slip out before the first toast.

The balcony is quiet, the air sharp against your skin. Below, the city hums, distant and indifferent. The music is still loud behind you, but out here, it’s muffled, softened by the wind.

You don’t belong inside.

The thought comes unbidden, bitter in your mouth.

So the balcony is cold, the air sharp against your skin. The city sprawls below, distant and untouchable. The music inside is muffled now, voices blending together, champagne bubbling in glasses. It’s still too loud.

You lean against the railing, fingers gripping the cold marble. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you don’t care.

You exhale, press your palms against the railing, giving yourself five seconds before you call an Uber to get home.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"You gonna jump?"

You hear the shuffle of his shoes against the floor as he leans beside you.

You close your eyes. "Go back inside. Make someone else's night worse."

"Yours already looks terrible, I've got a headstart," Bucky says, stepping up beside you.

You don’t turn, but you can feel him watching you, his presence taking up too much space in a very spacious balcony.

"You left early," he grunts out.

"So did you," you mutter.

"Yeah," he says. "People started looking at me like they wanted to ask me to dance."

You scoff. "You just think everyone’s in love with you."

"You're not proving me wrong," he points out.

"You're the most insufferable man I know."

"Honoured."

You finally glance at him. His tie is loose and he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Why are you out here?"

Your grip tightens on the railing. "Why are you?"

You know he sees it.

"You gonna actually answer," he says coolly, "or are we going to keep doing this?"

You exhale sharply, looking ahead. "DJ’s shit."

"It’s a live band."

"Then they should’ve hired a DJ."

His mouth twitches, but his eyes don't move off you.

"Try again."

"No," you say flatly.

He tilts his head at you, expression unreadable.

It makes you feel like your skin is on fire. Weddings are hard. Weddings with him around are even harder, for reasons you can't put words to.

A beat passed and he finally pushes himself away from the railing.

You're about to make some biting comment, when instead--

"Dance with me."

You blink. "Are you concussed?"

"Not recently."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "If this is some kind of sympathy thing-"

"Jesus," he mutters. "Yeah, I wanna pity dance with you, that's exactly what's happening here."

"Then what?"

He shrugs, "You think you're the only one who's angry?"

Your jaw tightens, teeth harsh against each other.

"We don’t have to talk," he mutters, like he's tired. Like things are hard for him too. "Just dance with me."

You stare at him, skeptical. He stares back, unbothered.

Instead, you grab his hand, passive-aggressive, like the universe owes you something for putting him in your life.

"Step on my feet, I break your kneecaps."

"For the record, I was a good fuckin' dancer."

"There is not one person left alive that can corroborate that," you scoff.

It's a joke, but you're acutely aware that maybe it's exactly why this is hard for him.

He pulls you in, a little stiff, like neither of you actually know how to do this anymore.

The music filters in from inside, something soft, but the two of you aren’t moving right to it.

He sways, slow and easy, like it makes all the sense in the world.

It pisses you off that somewhere, it starts feeling that was for you too.

"You're terrible at this," you mutter.

"So are you," he grumbles.

You scoff. "You said you were good at dancing."

"Yeah, well," he exhales, "people say a lot of shit."

You roll your eyes, but you don’t let go.

Neither does he.

The wind picks up. His palm presses a little firmer against your back. You don’t know what to do with that.

"You think you’re mad now," he mutters, "just wait ‘til I do this."

You frown, "What are you plann-"

You barely have time to react before his lips brush against your forehead.

It’s quick, warm, and a little unpracticed, like he thought about it too hard but did it anyway.

Your fingers tighten against his shirt. Not because you want to hold on. But because you don’t know what else to do with your hands when something shifts in your chest.

"Jes—"

"Shut up," he says, and it's the closest you've heard him come to pleading. "Five more minutes."

The words sit between you, heavy and unspoken.

You don’t know if he’s talking about the dance or something bigger.

Five more minutes.

Like you’re not running out of time. Like something in the world could belong to you, even if just for a little while.

You close your eyes. Breathe him in.

And five minutes stretch on longer than they usually do.

[ithilien-writes]

ficlet prompt: buck having a bad chronic pain day in his leg :)

thanks for the prompt! i had fun with this one 🥰

(to anyone reading: this was written really quickly and without much editing, so please take it in that spirit. i'm past the block that sparked the original call for prompts, but you can still always feel free to send me some more!!)

---

Rotten Work [Buck/Eddie (Buck & Chris), G, ~800 words]

Chris knows instinctively what kind of day it's going to be from almost the moment he wakes up. Or, at least from the moment he walks into the living room and sees Buck sprawled out on the couch.

Just a few months ago, it wouldn't have been an odd sight - Buck used to stay over on their couch all the time. And it's not that he doesn't stay over now; if anything, he stays over way more. He's just... not exactly been sleeping on the couch these days.

"Hey Buck," Chris calls out, keeping his voice soft even though he's pretty sure Buck's awake.

Sure enough, Buck stirs at the greeting, craning his neck up to look over at Chris, but without moving his body at all. So that's definitely sign number two.

"Hey bud," Buck greets him back, just as softly.

"Cuttlefish day?" Chris asks, even though he's almost positive he already knows the answer.

Buck manages a small smile back at him.

"Cuttlefish day," he confirms.

It was something they'd started when Chris was still pretty little. Honestly, Chris isn't sure that he even really remembers the day it started, except that he's heard the story from Dad. Apparently, on one of the first truly bad pain days he'd had after his mom died, Chris had been so overwhelmed by everything that he'd had a full sobbing meltdown, and he'd told his dad in between his little hiccuping cries that he didn't even want to be a person anymore.

"What do you want to be instead?" Dad had asked, holding Chris to his chest and rubbing his legs soothingly.

Which- apparently the question had been enough to distract Chris from his meltdown, finally getting him to stop crying as he thought about it with all the seriousness that an eight year-old could muster for such an important question. And then, on a huge aquarium kick at the time, he'd eventually decided he'd rather be a cuttlefish.

So now, in the years since it had become a kind of shorthand in their house for a bad pain day - initially for Chris, but eventually for Buck too.

So Chris simply nods at Buck's confirmation, before slipping back into the hallway to grab the TENS machine out of the closet, bringing it out to Buck who gives him another grateful smile in return. Then while Buck begins placing the electrodes along his bad leg, Chris heads into the kitchen to grab a coffee for Buck and a bowl of cereal for himself.

When Dad finally wakes up and joins them about an hour later, they've already finished breakfast and are well into a documentary on rubik's cube championships - which are apparently a thing? - and Buck's looking markedly more relaxed than he was at the start of the morning.

Dad ruffles Chris's hair as he walks by - which Chris tries to dodge, unsuccessfully - and then he leans down over the back of the couch to press a kiss into Buck's hairline.

"Cuttlefish day?" he asks, and Buck hums an affirmative, even as he tilts his head back to smile up at Dad with the same goofy, besotted grin he always has for him.

"Chris has been taking such good care of me though, I think I might actually be a person again before dinner," he tells Dad.

Dad looks over at Chris and catches his eye, his expression soft and appreciative.

"Well, I'm glad someone was taking care of you," he says after a moment, looking back down at Buck, "since I was apparently sleeping on the job."

He says it in a teasing tone, but also with a subtle undercurrent of actual annoyance that no one woke him up. Chris rolls his eyes.

Buck seems to pick up on it too.

"Well you can go get me another cup of coffee while you're up," he offers magnanimously, "if it would make you feel better."

Dad huffs out a laugh, but dutifully grabs Buck's mug from the coffee table before heading towards the kitchen.

Buck picks up the remote to unpause the documentary, but then looks over towards Chris instead.

"Hey," he says softly. "I meant that, you know. Thank you for taking care of me this morning. I really am feeling a lot better."

Chris shrugs. It's not like Buck hasn't been on the other side of enough of Chris's own cuttlefish days. It's nice to be able to return the favor, honestly.

He doesn't actually say that out loud though, for some reason. But he thinks maybe Buck understands anyway.

"Even if you're feeling better, maybe we could still order take out tonight?" he suggests instead, and Buck laughs.

"Yeah okay," he agrees easily. "I think I might be able to convince your dad on that one."

And when Dad comes back in a few moments later, tucking himself against Buck's side on the couch and handing him his coffee, it turns out it's not even all that hard of a sell.

[seungfl0wer]

Super Star | Soft Seungmin Thoughts

Seungmin x Reader (GN)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Just thinking about a relaxing day with Seungmin. You’re both cuddled up in bed listing to some soft music as the morning breeze comes through. His hands running over your back as he hums along to the music. Eventually he starts to sing making you smile. “You know. You have one of the prettiest voices I’ve ever heard” you say softly looking up at him.

You can see a small blush coming across his face “you’re only saying that cause we’re dating” he teased.

You pouted “that’s not true. I’ve always thought your voice was pretty. You have so much range, you sing so clearly and it always has such emotion in it.” You said now sitting up to look down at him. “You know when you guys are on tour I put your songs on shuffle or watch the broadcasts with you singing in it so I can fall asleep.” You admitted.

His face lit up, the pure happiness on his face was everything. He sat up the wide smile he had only becoming wider as he cupped your face. He pulled you into a loving kiss before pulling away. He took a second to look over your face smiling fondly. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me” he said.

“Of course I do. My super star” you giggled.

“I may be a super star but you’re the real super one.” He added.

“What do you mean?” You asked tilting your head slightly.

“You’re always so supportive, so loving and you’re always always there for me. Not to mention you always hype me up so much. It really keeps me going” he admitted.

“Really?” You said feeling a big smile creep across your face.

“Really really” he said pulling you into another kiss. “Now let’s lay back down and cuddle. You can tell me more about how amazing I am another time” he teased.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143

[buzzinrusso]

meeting the family

Based off this request !! Thank you and keep sending in more :)) And thank you for 500!!! That's just insane tbh

You had never been this nervous in your life.

It had started the moment you woke up, a deep, gnawing anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach, slowly creeping up through your chest. Every thought was a swirl of nerves, making your limbs feel heavy, and your mind running in endless circles. The day had arrived: the first official dinner at Emily’s parents’ house. You had met her family before, but this dinner was different. This wasn’t just a casual get-together—it was the first time you’d be meeting them as her girlfriend. Her serious girlfriend. And despite all of Emily’s reassurances, you couldn’t stop worrying about the possibility of saying or doing something awkward.

You couldn’t help but rehearse every potential disaster in your mind: What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing? What if you tripped and spilled something on her mum’s lap? What if they thought you were too weird, too quiet, or too different?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and the feeling was overwhelming as you tried to distract yourself by adjusting your shirt once again in the mirror. Your stomach churned, and your reflection felt foreign to you. Why was this dinner so important? Why did it feel like this moment was somehow a measure of how everything between you and Emily would turn out? You couldn’t even begin to explain it, but the nerves wouldn’t let go.

“Em,” you called out to her, pacing around her room. “What if I mess it all up? What if they don’t like me? What if—”

Emily’s voice interrupted you softly, filled with that calm confidence she always seemed to exude. “Babe, you’re overthinking this.”

You spun around dramatically to face her. “Of course I’m overthinking! I’ve never been this nervous in my life. This is huge for me!”

Emily sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with that patient smile that always had a way of calming you. She was standing now, crossing the room toward you with a relaxed energy, completely unphased by your anxious rambling.

“You’re acting like you’re about to meet royalty, not my family,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, even though your nerves were still swirling. “They’re just normal people, love. They’re gonna love you, I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, still not entirely convinced. “What if they don’t? What if—”

Emily placed her hands gently on your shoulders, grounding you instantly. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and when she looked at you, her gaze was soft but full of certainty.

“Stop worrying,” she whispered, her voice tender. “They already love you.”

The words were simple, but there was so much trust behind them, so much faith that you could feel yourself starting to believe it, just a little. “You really think so?” you asked quietly, meeting her eyes.

Emily’s smile deepened. “I know so. You’re amazing, babe. You have nothing to worry about.”

You let out a slow breath and, for the first time that day, felt a sense of calm wash over you. “Okay… okay. I’ll try.” You paused before looking at yourself in the mirror once again, still unsure about your outfit. “But what if I look ridiculous?”

Emily laughed softly, walking up to you and glancing you up and down. “You look perfect. Don’t overthink it. My family isn’t expecting you to wear a ball gown or anything.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Trust me, just be yourself. That’s all they’re gonna want to see.”

You sighed and nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll just be me.”

Emily leaned in to press a quick kiss to your temple, her lips soft and warm against your skin. “That’s my girl.”

---

As you pulled into Emily’s parents’ driveway, the nerves returned with a vengeance.

Your palms were sweaty, and your heart was racing again. Every step felt heavy, every breath shallow as you tried to calm your mind. You could feel the weight of the evening ahead pressing down on you. Emily reached over, gently taking your hand in hers. Her touch was grounding, steadying, and as she rubbed her thumb over your knuckles, you felt a slight calming effect.

“Breathe, love,” she murmured softly, glancing at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’re about to meet the Queen of England.”

You turned to her, eyes wide and filled with anxiety. “It’s not just dinner, Em. It’s my first impression. What if I mess it up? What if I say something awkward or—”

She laughed, the sound light and soothing. “You’re adorable when you panic, you know that?”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat and staring at the ceiling. “I’m doomed, Em.”

“Drama queen,” she teased, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. They’re gonna love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Her playful attitude helped ease your nerves, even if just a little.

---

When Emily knocked on the door, it swung open immediately.

“Oh, finally!”

Before you could even react, a woman who was unmistakably Emily’s mum pulled you into a tight, affectionate hug. You barely had time to register her warm embrace before she pulled away slightly, holding you at arm’s length.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s so lovely to finally meet you! Emily’s been talking about you nonstop!”

Your cheeks flushed a deep red. “Oh—uh, really?” you stammered, still caught off guard by her immediate warmth.

Emily groaned, rolling her eyes. “Mum—”

“All good things, don’t worry,” her mum assured with a wink. “I promise she only says the best things about you.” She looped her arm through yours, pulling you inside as if you had been coming here for years. The feeling of comfort was immediate, and you could already feel the nervousness begin to fade.

The house was exactly how you imagined it: cozy, inviting, filled with framed photos and little trinkets. You couldn’t help but admire the picture of a younger Emily—probably eight or nine—grinning with pride on a football field, holding a trophy in her hands. It was a simple picture, but it made your heart swell a little. You could almost hear her telling the story of that moment if you listened hard enough.

Before you could even speak, a deep voice came from across the room.

“You must be the famous girlfriend.”

You turned to find Emily’s dad standing near the fireplace. His smile was warm and welcoming, a genuine look of happiness on his face. He stepped forward, hand outstretched, and you hesitated for just a moment before shaking it.

“No need to be nervous,” he chuckled, his voice rich with kindness. “We’re just happy our Emily’s found someone who makes her happy.”

“She definitely makes me happy,” Emily added, squeezing your waist affectionately.

Her younger siblings arrived shortly after, and you found yourself instantly caught up in their energy. They immediately bombarded you with questions, everything from “How did you and Emily meet?” to “Who asked who out first?” and, of course, “Do you know she snores?”

Emily protested with a flustered laugh, denying the accusation. “I do not snore!”

You giggled beside her, enjoying the teasing atmosphere. It was light, playful, and completely different from what you had expected.

Her family was so warm, so welcoming, and you felt yourself slowly starting to relax as the evening unfolded. This wasn’t some formal, uncomfortable dinner. Instead, it was like you’d stepped into a family gathering where you already belonged.

---

Dinner was filled with laughter, teasing, and stories of Emily’s childhood.

At one point, her mum started telling a story about Emily getting stuck in a tree at age eight, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing too hard.

“She refused to come down because she was convinced she could make it higher,” her dad recalled, shaking his head with fond amusement. “Took us a full hour to convince her to jump down into my arms.”

You turned to Emily with wide eyes, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “You never told me you were a little daredevil.”

Emily huffed. “I was a very ambitious child.”

Her younger sibling, a 15-year-old girl, laughed loudly. “You were a menace.”

You laughed so hard you nearly cried. Emily shot you a playful glare before leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“If I had known my own girlfriend would betray me like this, I might have reconsidered bringing you here,” she whispered dramatically, making you chuckle even more.

You grinned at her, nudging her gently. “Liar. You love that I’m here.”

She huffed but squeezed your thigh under the table. The touch was subtle, but it spoke volumes, and you felt your heart flutter at the tenderness.

---

After dinner, Emily led you upstairs to her childhood bedroom.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit in awe as you looked around. The room was a testament to her younger years—old posters still stuck to the walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and the bed that was definitely too small for two people to sleep in comfortably.

“This is where you grew up?” you asked, your voice soft as you took in every detail.

Emily grinned, plopping down onto her bed and patting the spot next to her. "Yup. This is where all the magic happened."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Magic? I don't know about that. But it’s cute."

Emily’s room was like a time capsule of her childhood—a mixture of her past interests, little mementos, and the cozy ambiance that made it clear this place had been her sanctuary. You glanced around at the tattered plushies on the shelf, the notes pinned to the corkboard, and the fairy lights still strung around the room in lazy loops. You could almost see the 12-year-old version of her lying on the bed, scribbling in her notebook, or maybe laughing with her friends on the phone.

You stood still for a moment, taking it all in. It was surreal, seeing this side of her—the version of Emily that had been a child, growing up in this very room. You turned in a slow circle, wondering what it had been like for her during those early years. It made her feel even more real, somehow, like she’d had a whole life before you came into it, and you were lucky enough to be part of it now.

When you finally met her gaze, she was grinning, her eyes dancing with mischief. "What do you think?" she asked, obviously enjoying the effect her childhood bedroom had on you.

"I think..." you paused, pretending to deliberate, "...that I’m in danger of getting buried in all these stuffed animals if I sit down. There’s not even enough room for me in here."

Emily rolled her eyes but patted the bed beside her again, an invitation you didn’t hesitate to accept. "Fine. Get comfy. And for the record, I totally offer my childhood room for cuddling. It's a privilege."

You laughed and plopped down next to her, where she immediately threw her arm around you, pulling you into her side. You relaxed into her warmth, and for a moment, the nervousness of earlier seemed like a distant memory. The evening had been so much easier than you had imagined. Her family was everything Emily had promised—welcoming, kind, and full of humor. They had made you feel like you’d been a part of their world for years.

As you settled in beside Emily on the bed, you noticed her room’s soft ambiance. The glow of the fairy lights bathed everything in a soft, comforting warmth, and you felt a strange sense of contentment. Your nerves were completely gone now, replaced with a feeling of home. A feeling you hadn’t expected to have, but there it was.

"You know," you murmured, shifting so your head rested against her shoulder, "I think your family really does like me."

Emily let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers through your hair. "I told you so." Her voice was gentle, teasing, but there was something else behind it—a pride, maybe, or a deep, quiet affection.

"I know, I just—" You paused, your voice growing softer as you realized how much this moment meant to you. "I’m glad. I was worried at first, but they made me feel like I belong."

Emily's fingers paused in your hair as she looked down at you, her expression softening. She kissed the top of your head, her lips lingering there for a moment before she pulled away, but not without leaving the warmth of her affection behind. "You do belong, love. They like you because you make me happy. And that’s all that matters."

Your heart fluttered at her words, and you snuggled closer to her, feeling the weight of the day slowly ease off your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to feel so... content, so at ease. Her family had made you feel accepted, loved, like you were already a part of their lives without even having to try.

"I’m still kind of in awe of everything," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper now. "It’s just... perfect. You’re perfect. Your family’s perfect."

Emily chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the warmth of her smile against your skin. "I’m glad you’re feeling that way," she whispered. "It means a lot that you like them. And that you’re comfortable with me and my world."

You grinned up at her, feeling your chest swell with affection for her. "Well, it’s easy to like your family when they’re as awesome as you are."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, but there was a sweetness to her voice that made your heart skip.

You snuggled into her more, letting the quiet of the room wrap around you both. Outside, the evening settled into a peaceful calm, and the sounds of distant conversation from downstairs faded as the house grew still. But in this room, in this moment, everything felt so right. You could almost imagine the years stretching out ahead of you—visits to Emily’s childhood home, holidays spent with her family, quiet nights like this one where everything was simple and warm.

And then Emily broke the silence with a soft laugh, her breath tickling your ear. "You know, I can’t believe I let you get away with embarrassing me in front of everyone with that tree story."

You lifted your head from her shoulder to look at her with a teasing smile. "Oh, come on. You were a daredevil! It’s an important part of who you are!"

Emily groaned, but you could tell she was enjoying the teasing as much as you were. She leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulled you into the kiss. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

You laughed against her lips, the sound muffled but light. "Nope. I’ll bring it up every chance I get."

When you finally pulled away, Emily smiled at you—one of those soft, full smiles that made your heart flutter. "I don’t mind. I like that you’re here. That you’re part of my life now."

The words felt like they meant so much more than just a simple statement. You could feel the weight of them, the affection, the depth of emotion in the way she spoke them. And for the first time that day, you truly believed it. You belonged here. You belonged with Emily.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable haze, filled with soft laughter, shared glances, and moments of quiet contentment. Emily’s family eventually came to say their goodnights, but the feeling of being welcomed, accepted, and cared for lingered. You were no longer the nervous, unsure person who had walked in through the front door. You were part of something now—a family that embraced you without hesitation, and a love that made everything feel possible.

As you lay there, nestled against Emily, you couldn’t help but smile softly. Everything had gone better than you could’ve imagined, and the future suddenly felt bright. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to dream of all the memories you’d create together. You belonged, and this felt like just the beginning.

---

Emily pulled you closer as the night stretched on. The soft flicker of the fairy lights created a peaceful glow in the room, and the occasional sound of distant laughter from the downstairs mingled with the silence of the bedroom. It was surreal being in this space with her, the two of you sharing such a simple, yet deeply intimate moment. You rested your head on her chest, your hand resting lightly on her stomach. It felt like time had slowed down in the best way possible.

“I can’t believe how much your family already loves me,” you murmured, breaking the silence, your voice soft and reflective. “It feels like... I’ve known them forever.”

Emily’s hand brushed gently through your hair, and she chuckled. “You’re making it sound like a fairy tale,” she teased. “But seriously, I think they just see how happy you make me. That’s all it takes, really.”

You smiled against her chest, your fingers tracing little patterns on her skin. “Still, I didn’t expect it to feel so natural. Like I just fit into your world without any of that awkwardness I thought would happen.”

“I told you,” she whispered, kissing the top of your head. “You fit perfectly. And they see that too.”

You both grew quiet again, the contented hum of the house lulling you into a comfortable peace. The warmth of Emily’s body next to yours and the rhythmic sound of her breathing soothed you, filling you with a deep sense of belonging. Her family had embraced you with open arms, and it wasn’t just their warmth that made you feel like part of the fold—it was the way Emily looked at you, the way she made everything feel effortless, like nothing could go wrong as long as you were together.

“Hey,” Emily murmured after a moment of peaceful silence, her voice low and playful. “You know what’s something I didn’t mention earlier?”

You looked up, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “I told you about my family, but you haven’t heard any of my embarrassing stories yet. There’s a whole list of those.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now I’m intrigued.”

She laughed softly. “Well, let me just say—there was the time I tried to bake cookies for the first time and nearly set the kitchen on fire.”

You gasped in mock horror, pressing a hand to your chest. “No way! Tell me more!”

Emily sat up slightly, an impish smile on her lips as she began to recount the story. “I was about 10, and I had this ‘brilliant’ idea that I would surprise my mum by baking cookies. But... I didn’t read the recipe correctly. The oven was on too high, and the cookies were black before I even realized it. I remember standing in the kitchen, staring at the smoke, thinking, ‘Well, at least the house is still standing.’”

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you did that! Did your mum freak out?”

Emily giggled, lying back down beside you. “She was more concerned about the smoke alarm than the cookies, honestly. She came into the kitchen and just stared at me, and I remember her saying, ‘Emily, you’re never baking again.’”

You snorted, unable to contain your laughter. “I can totally see that. Your mum seems like she’d be very direct about things.”

“She’s definitely not shy,” Emily agreed with a grin. “But she’s also got a big heart. She was laughing just as hard as I was once we aired out the kitchen.”

You smiled, your heart feeling fuller as you listened to Emily’s playful retelling. It was these small glimpses into her childhood, these intimate stories, that made her even more endearing to you. She had grown up just like anyone else—messing up, laughing at herself, and learning along the way. It made you feel closer to her, like you were discovering pieces of the puzzle that was Emily, and you loved every second of it.

"You're so lucky," you said softly, your fingers brushing against her hand. "Your family sounds amazing. I wish I had that when I was growing up."

Emily turned to face you, her expression softening. “You know you’ve got that now, right? With me, and with my family. They already see you as part of the crew.”

You sighed contentedly, letting her words sink in. There was something about the way she said it—like it was just a fact, a given—that made you feel truly accepted, more than you had in a long time. You didn't have to prove anything. You didn’t have to try to fit in. You just did.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quiet but full of gratitude. “That really means a lot to me.”

Emily smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. "You're more than welcome, love."

You both lay there for a while, just enjoying the quiet of the room, the weight of the day finally lifting off your shoulders. Eventually, though, Emily broke the peace with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So,” she said, her voice suddenly playful, “since you’re all cuddled up in my bed and I’m feeling generous, I think it’s time for one more embarrassing story. This one’s a real gem.”

You groaned dramatically, but your curiosity won out. “Oh, here we go. Hit me with it.”

Emily chuckled, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. “Alright, so when I was 14, I had this huge crush on this girl in my class. Like, I had it bad. I had the whole ‘love letters, blushing every time she spoke to me’ kind of crush, you know? Anyway, I decided to write her a note, because obviously, I was the best at expressing myself in writing at that age.”

You snickered, already loving where this was going. “Please tell me you didn’t make it too dramatic.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “You have no idea. So, I handwrite this note, and I even put a heart doodle on it to make it super obvious. Then, during lunch, I finally work up the courage to slip it into her locker. But... well, turns out, I was so nervous that I grabbed the wrong locker.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh no. Did you leave the love note in the wrong locker?”

Emily nodded, stifling her laughter. “Yeah. And not just any locker. The jock’s locker. The guy who, by the way, was the worst at keeping things to himself. He found the note, read it out loud in the middle of the hall, and—well, let’s just say that story made its way around school faster than wildfire.”

You gasped, holding your stomach from laughing so hard. “Oh my god, that’s priceless. What did you do?!”

“I spent the rest of the week hiding in the library,” Emily admitted with a sheepish grin. “But the worst part? The girl I had a crush on? She was actually really sweet about it. She came up to me the next day, apologized for the misunderstanding, and then said—‘If you ever want to try again, just make sure it’s the right locker next time.’”

You wiped a tear from your eye as you giggled uncontrollably. “That’s amazing. Honestly, you’re lucky she didn’t totally roast you.”

Emily shrugged, her smile genuine. “I learned a lot from it. Mostly about being more careful with where I put my notes and not trying to be so dramatic.”

You settled back against the pillow, still chuckling to yourself. “I love hearing these stories,” you said softly. “It’s like I get to know you in a whole new way.”

Emily smiled, her hand finding yours again, intertwining your fingers. “I’m glad you like them. I think there are a lot more to tell, if you’re up for it.”

You squeezed her hand gently, feeling the bond between you both deepen with every shared laugh and story. "I'm definitely up for it," you whispered, smiling as you closed your eyes. "As long as you promise to always be this honest with me."

Emily’s voice was soft as she whispered back, "I promise."

And in that moment, with the warmth of her presence beside you and the quiet peace of her room wrapping you both in its comfort, you knew—this was just the beginning of something

[themioka]

Shaw pack head cannons. I have pt2

Marie took up healing magic so that pack members wouldn't have to spend money to go to a healer after getting injured or sick. It wa her way of showing gratitude towards her pack for what they'd done for her and Milo.

Colm wanted Milo to work for the department, going so far to try and steer Milo in the direction of doing so. However, Milo was quick to catch on what Colm was doing, and the two broke out into a massive argument about it.

Asher's parents always felt guilty for leaving Asher behind in pursuit of traveling around the world. While yes he's an adult, and had the support of his packmates, unlike his sister who they where present for the majority of her life up until she moved with her husband back to his pack and hometown. They immediately left the moment Asher could legally care for himself. Asher didn't blame them, nor did he hold any kind of grudge against them. He just kinda wished they stuck around longer before they up and left.

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Milo has a sleeper build body, and it drives Sweetheart wild whenever he decides to flex just to get a rise out of them. He gets a huge ego boost out of it every time, too.

Milo is the very much, I love to stay /hang out more but I have to go check on my cat and make sure he's doing okay and that he gets fed, etc, kind of person.

Whenever Milo is coming home from a rough or stressful job, he'll just pick up Aggro and Sweetheart, before heading to the bedroom to snuggle with the two, gaining a few cheek/forehead kisses from Sweetheart before all three fall asleep in each other embrace.

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One time, Sweetheart spooked Milo into shifting out of fear, and they've never felt so bad in their life until now. Just immediately pulled Milo's wolf into a tight hug as they apologized to Milo, their hand instinctively running through his fur as they kept hugging him til Milo slowly shifted back. They managed to get a laugh about the whole thing, but it took a bit of convincing from Milo that he was absolutely fine from the whole thing.

Whenever Sweetheart is experiencing a panic attack or feels an oncoming attack, Milo's either away on a job or hanging out with the pack members. They'll go to hide in their shared closet until it passes, unaware that Aggro is following them until Aggro is crawling into their lap and begins nuzzling Sweetheart, making biscuits on their lap, or making "conversation" by constantly meowing at Sweetheart. Manging to calm down, Sweetheart will thank Aggro before carrying him to the bed to take a small nap with him. Only to wake up to Milo petting their head as he lays across from them, and Aggro curled up between them, purring loudly.

Sweetheart, who'll make sure everything is up to code on Quinn's security/containment, double checking and ensuring the man doesn't even have a chance at escaping. Sending a list of details and updates of what they've gathered to the pack group chat at the end of their shfit before heading home.

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Darlin struggles to break their terrible habit of hiding bruises, cuts, etc. They won't even acknowledge whatever cut or bruises they have until someone points it out. Sometimes getting a bit defensive about the whole thing, as they're still not used to the idea of relying or asking for help from others.

Darlin swears they're not a good teacher, that they don't know or can't teach, and on top of it, someone who isn't an exact role model. Yet, can't say no whenever one of the younger pack members come to them on help on either learning on how to fight in their wolf form, getting better a shifting, etc.

Darlin is covered in various scars, small, big, either faint or not, depending on how old they are, either visible from afar others you can't really see unless you're up close.

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Whenever Sam joins in on pack runs, the others even David will try and race against him, and he'll indulge in their antics, pretending to slow down and acting a bit tired before blowing past them with ease.

Has gotten caught up in their spins out though it typically gets a chuckle out of him, because they always end up in a tangled mess, and he's trying to get them to hold still while he untangled them rather than having them wiggle around as they untangle themselves from each other limbs.

Sam will give Darlin a few words of encouragement whenever they're struggling to interact with the pack. He is struggling to hide the look of pride on his face whenever Darlin does it without help.

Sam, who's made to sit separately from Darlin during pack movie nights by Asher, because the two always end up falling asleep, not even halfway through the movie. Asher's attempts fail though because the two just "magically" find themselves right next to each other a few minutes later and are vast asleep, Sam having a tight yet gentle grip around Darlin's waist keeping them close and tight against him.

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David used to be in between a heavy sleeper and a light sleeper. However, after the inversion, he became an extremely light sleeper at the time, practically waking up to the sound of the blanket moving. He's gotten a bit better over time, but every now and then, he'll be awoken by the tiniest of noise.

Saw someone say that Darlin possibly has a limp due from the fights they've been in, 100% agree on it, yet overtime Darlin has learned how to adapt and normally functional with it, almost as if they've never had it. But given their age, they sometimes struggle to keep up on pack runs, so David will act as support and stick by them as they run together.

David gets dragged into the little playful scuffles that are mostly started by Asher, though he acts a bit annoyed by it. You can tell he enjoys these kinds of things that allow him to act like a kid/teen again. He'll sometimes switch up on sides every now and then or just team up on Asher with Milo and Darlin, ignoring Asher complaints that 3v1 is unfair.

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Angel will help David in looking for places that are suitable for Sam, of anything they can possibly bring with them if the place they're going to doesn't have much or doesn't offer any kind of shade, just to ensure Sam doesn't miss out on anything even if he claims he does mind being exclude from a few things.

(Both David and Angel won't allow it)

Whenever Angel manages to get David to lie on top of them, they'd usually have to hold onto him to get him to stay because he'll only lay on them for a few minutes, before trying to move, because he believes they'll end up hurt if he stays on top of them longer than usual.

Angel enjoys poking David's sides as they love getting a reaction out of him. Sometimes, David will pull them close to him in a tight embrace, growling in their ear for them to stop, or he'll punish them later for their behavior.

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You know those people who always have their arm around or hands on the person shoulders they're standing right next to because it feels weird if they don't or like have no idea what to do with their limbs in general. And on top of it, they give that little shoulder side pat or do that little shake when they get excited or happy about it. That's Asher, and it doesn't matter who it is, Babe, David, basically anyone who's close in range, Asher automatically has an arm slung over them or a hand on their shoulder.

Asher is very popular with kids since he's down to play with them whenever they invite/nag him to come play with them. Answers their questions with a silly response before going on to ask them questions that typically get a laugh out of them. Gets a laugh at pretending to scare the absolute crap out of their parents whenever he pretends he's dropped the kid whenever holding them. 100%, the one who starts tickle fights among the children. It's not uncommon for him to be the children jungle gym. On top of it, he'll be having a conversation with someone while it's happening and is 100% unphased by it.

Asher who'll jump onto one of the packmates back in a surprise greeting, the other typically being able to support the sudden weight but every now and then, it's enough to send both of them to the floor.

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Babe frequently smacks Asher's hand away whenever they're eating in or out, because no matter how much of their food they give Asher, it seems he's always coming back for more but at this point it's 50/50 for either more food or loving the reaction he's getting out of Babe.

Babe loves getting a rise out of Asher whenever they're over at Milo's and Sweetheart's place and just start loving on Aggro while Asher is whining at them. Milo often joins in, telling Babe how they should get a cat and telling them the perks about owning one, Babe acting all interested in what Milo's telling them all while "ignoring" Asher who's clinging onto them and whining on how they don't need a cat as they have him who is in his words much cooler than a cat.

Every now and then, whenever they're eating in or out, Babe will pretend they're full and offer the rest of their food to Asher, who's been eyeballing their plate after finishing his food.

[skzdust]

Take From Me, Leave Nothing Left

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was an anonymous request (here)! Thank you to the requester and I hope you all like it! I had so much fun writing it teehee

Title is from "Hypnosis" by Sleep Token!

Summary: You've been texting Seonghwa all day, and when he gets home, he's about to show you how mean he can be.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x afab Reader

Includes: overstimulation, nipple play, vibrators, dildos, gagging, needy texting, creampie, pleaseeeee practice safe sex irl!

Word count: 1.7k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz,

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

11:34am, Feb 02

You: Hiii Hwa Seonghwa 💕: Hello my love =) You: When are you going to be homeeeeee Seonghwa 💕: I have a full day my love Seonghwa 💕: There is much dancing to be done You: :( Seonghwa 💕: I’ll be home soon enough, I promise, darling You: You’d better Seonghwa 💕: xx

1:43pm, Feb 02

You: Can you hurry up with the dancing Seonghwa 💕: We’re dancing so fast, my love You: Please? Seonghwa 💕: Just be patient for a few more hours for me, doll You: Idk I really want your cock You: But I’ll try Seonghwa 💕: Good girl xx

3:57pm, Feb 02

You: Hwa, please, need you Seonghwa 💕: You NEED me? You: Yes, I do Seonghwa 💕: Patience is a virtue, doll You: Okay, but getting railed within an inch of my life is also a virtue Seonghwa 💕: That doesn’t make sense You: Please? Seonghwa 💕: I’ll be home soon, promise You: Okay, hurry back Seonghwa 💕: I’ll do my best, love

5:41pm, Feb 02

You: You going to be home soon? Seonghwa 💕: Wrapping things up now, shouldn’t be more than a few minutes! You: THANK GOD You: Was considering pulling out the vibrator Seonghwa 💕: Wow Seonghwa 💕: Didn’t know you were disobedient as well as needy. You: I’m not disobedient, you didn’t say anything about the vibrator :) You: What’s a girl to do when her man’s not here to fuck her? Seonghwa 💕: Just be ready for me when I’m home.

The door creaked open, and you practically jumped up from where you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through something on your phone. “Seonghwa!”

“Hi, baby.” He didn’t look at you, locking the door behind him and setting his bag down. “Someone’s been needy today, haven’t they?”

You swallowed, already hungry for whatever he had planned. “Yeah, I have.”

He still didn’t look at you, walking into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. “Bothering me while I’m at work.”

“I’m sorry, Hwa.”

He laughed. “Don’t lie to me, you’re not sorry.”

“I just want you.” You mumbled.

“I know.” He took a sip, finally turning around to face you. “So you’re going to get me. You’re going to get a punishment.”

“A punishment?”

“Mhm.” He tilted his head a bit. “And it was a busy day for me, so I think I deserve someone— something— to take my stress out on, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course.” You breathed.

He smiled, that big grin like sunshine. “Perfect, then, baby.” He jerked his head towards the bedroom. “Go.”

You scrambled to stand up and get to the bedroom, getting your clothes off and thrown into a pile in the corner. You laid yourself out on the bed, your lingerie giving you the extra bit of confidence you needed to feel really sexy.

Seonghwa walked into the room like the wolf who knew he had the bunny cornered. You could feel your pulse quicken.

He smiled, all teeth. “Aw, look at you, all ready for me.”

“Yeah.” You sighed.

He leaned over you, tangling his fingers in the straps crisscrossing your chest, taking a moment to admire how they looked on your skin before he yanked towards himself, pulling you up off the bed. You struggled to get your hands under you. “Hwa!”

“Sir.” He said, looking at you darkly. “You know to address me as sir. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded quickly.

He let go, pushing you back onto the bed. “Hands and knees.”

You obeyed his command, getting yourself into position and looking over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” Seonghwa groaned. “So pretty.”

Your breath caught as he moved to the dresser, pulling out your collection of sex toys. He selected a big vibrator and walked back over. “You want this?”

“Yes, sir.”

He laughed, mumbling something to himself as he walked back over to you. He helped you take your lacy underwear off, throwing them aside with the rest of your clothes. You inhaled as you felt the vibrator touch your entrance. Seonghwa teased you with it for a little bit, then, without warning, shoved it inside.

Seonghwa was usually one for foreplay, teasing you till you were soaked, working you up slowly. Starting with just a finger before moving onto a bigger dildo, and then finally his cock. But it seemed today he was down to business as he switched the vibrator onto its highest setting and began to ruthlessly fuck you with it.

You made a sound that might’ve been a moan or a squeak or something in between, your arms shaking at the effort of keeping you up. Seonghwa kept on going, and he started talking. “You know, you talk a lot of game for someone who can barely stay in the position I’ve asked you to. You’d think that after all of your talk and neediness you’d be able to withstand a little more than one vibrator.”

“I can!” You moaned. “I can take it, sir.”

“Oh, can you?” He teased. “Can you take more?”

“Yes!”

He leaned over you and started to play with one of your nipples. “I’m gonna overstimulate you until you’re sobbing and begging me to stop, baby. And then I’m going to keep going.”

Your mouth dropped open in a long moan, and you arched back against him.

“Yeah? You like the sound of that?” His voice was almost soft.

“Yes.” You whined.

“Good girl.” He whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing of the vibrator.

His pace suddenly turned from fast to punishing, and his hand worked harder at your nipple, overwhelming you with stimulation. It wasn’t long until you were coming with a moan, your legs shaking.

He pulled the vibrator out and pushed you down onto your front before rolling you onto your back. His eyes surveyed your form. “Beautiful, but I need you looking a bit more debauched.”

You smiled, your mind in a bit of a post-orgasm haze. “How do you intend to do that?”

“I intend to fuck your face and your pussy at the same time.”

Your head tilted back with a groan. “Fuck, Seong-sir.” You caught yourself just in time.

He ignored your near slip-up but for a twitch of his lips. “Open your legs.”

You did., opening your mouth too.

“I would tell you you’re a good girl, but you’re just taking a punishment, so doing what’s expected of you doesn’t deserve all that much respect, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond, Seonghwa pushed the vibrator he’d just been fucking you with into your mouth, muffling a noise from you. The silicone had a strange, nearly bitter taste in your mouth, and you could taste yourself all over it. He repositioned himself, getting in a good place so he could start to fuck you with two fingers at the same time as he was fucking your face. Thankfully, he didn’t turn the vibrator on, but the act was dirty enough that your entire body felt like it was on fire. You shut your eyes, settling into the sensations.

He laughed, a low sound. “Fucking slut. Do you like that? Does that feel good to you?”

You nodded, moaning as he shallowly fucked your mouth.

“Of course it does.” He continued. “You would like being treated like this.”

This continued for a while, and then he went back to the drawer to retrieve more toys, this time a gag and an even bigger dildo.

He strapped the gag onto your face, pulling on it a few times to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere, and then began to fuck you with the dildo. “Look at you, taking it like a whore. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? My little fucktoy.”

You moaned as much as the gag would allow. You were starting to get overwhelmed, all of the sensations so potent. You could feel every nerve in your body so strongly, especially the ones between your legs.

You weren’t ready to start begging, yet. It was still on the positive side of strong, not quite edging into overstimulation just yet.

But it hit that point quickly when Seonghwa slid a couple of fingers in beside the dildo, stretching you even wider. You moaned a few times, pointing at the gag to show him you needed to tell him something. He paused for a moment to undo the straps.

“Sir, it’s— it’s so much— it’s too much.”

He studied your face for a moment before his mouth spread into a smile. “No, it’s not, not yet.”

You watched as he undid his belt and took off his pants and boxers, letting his cock free.

You let out a breath looking at it. Seonghwa still had to get off, and leave it to him to get you as sensitive as possible before doing so.

He lined himself up and smirked at you before pushing inside. “Fuck, slut, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

He let both of you adjust for just a moment before starting to fuck you, his hips snapping back and forth into you. His mouth fell open as he fucked you, mumbling things in your ear. “You feel so good around me”, “such a good fucktoy”. You shivered and moaned with every degrading name and the sensations he gave you with them. He started playing with your nipples again, and your moans turned into whines. It was so overwhelming, you were so overstimulated, but it felt so good, he felt so good.

His thrusts became more erratic, more stuttering, and his hips pushed forward one last time as you felt an unmistakable warmth filling you. You loved it when he came inside, claimed you as his.

He fell limp, and you rolled onto your side, curling into him. His arms wrapped around you, and you thought if you didn’t have to, you’d never move.

But, of course, that wasn’t the case, and after a few moments Seonghwa gently kissed your hair. “Okay, baby, let’s get in the shower.”

“But ‘m cozy.” You grumbled.

“You’ll be even cozier once you’re clean.” He pulled out slowly, his cum spilling all over the sheets. “And we need clean sheets, too.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” You sighed.

“And then we can cuddle after.” He smiled.

“Yes please.” You smiled back. “Love you, Seonghwa.”

“Love you too, baby.”

[dailyaventurinedoodles]

Hey hi!! Saw your post about not being able to post a doodle yesterday (hope you’re doing ok! ❤️) - I noticed you had a guest artist on a little while ago and I would also be happy to bat for you if you ever need a break :) I have attached a small Avencheem wishing you the best :P obviously no pressure/expectations ofc! Just figured I’d put the offer out there ^^

(Also tysm for all you kind comments on my work it really means a lot 🥺❤️)

Been staring at this ask for a long while bc it’s so hard to give a worthy answer.. thanks so much! I really appreciate how thoughtful this ask is and i’d be honoured to have you do a doodle some day. (Thanks for this one btw hes so cute!!)

Been dealing with some anxiety over whats been going on in the world as i’m sure most people are, and sometimes i need to take an early night to rest without doing a doodle that day (thats a lack of preparation hehe)

Again thanks so much for sending this ask :)

[wyattjohnston]

just between you and me - cole caufield

summary: you return to montreal after some time abroad and it unleashes a whole new slew of questions.

word count: 3,325

note: this is for @lam-ila for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k25! i hope you like it maleeha <3 thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and for all your help!!

main character: feminine reader insert

The windowpane offers a nice reprieve from the chaotic warmth being produced by seemingly everybody you’ve ever known being invited to your welcome back party. It’s well below freezing which isn’t at all unusual for Montreal, and—you’ll never admit this out loud—sitting next to the window is the closest you’re going to get to outside. Belgium had been utterly tropical in comparison and you’re ashamed by how quickly the Montreal weather became too much. The crowd of people sitting on the balcony are, quite frankly, out of their minds.

“Don’t think you should be sitting over here by yourself.”

You move your attention from the group outside to the person who just joined you, smiling gently when you realise who it is followed by a just as gentle, “Hi, Cole.”

The confusion across his face is clear and it lasts longer than just a passing second, before he’s saying your name back to you in such a questioning manner that you start to wonder if you’ve somehow been wrong all these years.

He shuffles further into the booth opposite you, leaning all his body weight onto his forearms and the table between them, and says emphatically, “No fucking way.”

You understand his reaction somewhat, knowing that the semester spent in Belgium had been eye opening and experimental, but you can only shrug at him because visibly all that’s changed about you that night is that you’ve put on some makeup and worn something a little tighter than you used to.

“You look—” he pauses, and you sigh to yourself because you know what’s coming next. “You look great. Belgium really did a number on you, eh?”

“Sure, you could put it that way.”

The compliment is nice, regardless, so you take it at face value and put your own arms on the table, leaning in towards him. He grins, toothy and all encompassing, and you’re shunted back to the small crush you’ve always had on him. It’s not anything that takes over your life; sometimes you’re not even sure it’s anything more than the thought that he’s available, but it’s enough to send butterflies into your stomach.

He tells you to stay put, and you do as you’re told even if you’re contorting yourself in your seat to see exactly where he’s gone and what he’s up to. The drink he brings back to you is what he knows as your favourite; you thank him for the soft drink, even if that’s also something that changed while you were away.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, a couple days later, you get a text from Cole asking when you’re next free which is quickly followed by another text with the days he’s free that week.

Hanging out with Cole wasn’t uncommon, though it was typically part of a larger group. It’s not explicit that this is one-on-one in any way other than Cole being the one to initiate and organise; he always left that to someone else and just showed up wherever the people were.

You leave them on your Lock Screen for most of the day and wait until the Habs game is over that night to text him back—whilst you wouldn’t give him the quick response he was undoubtedly after, there’s no way you’re going to put yourself in the position to wait by texting him mid-game.

The text you send reads “that depends what we’re doing” and it’s not until the read receipt pops up and you read it back that you realise it probably sounds quite flirty. It’s not not the message you were trying to convey but your palms get a little sweaty when it really kicks in that the flood gates have just been opened.

Cole’s unbridled joy is conveyed through his texts—the win probably doing some heavy lifting there—and the abundance of exclamation marks. Though, truthfully, they might not be that uncommon for Cole.

“We can go bowling!! Or ice skating!! Or you can come over??!!”

It’s endearing if not a little overwhelming.

Ice skating is the pick, and you can’t help but laugh at the idea of him using his day off to do more skating. It was his suggestion, and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so you don’t bring it up at all.

He helps with your skates even though you’re more than capable; he just kneels down in front of you and starts lacing them up before you can even begin to tighten them yourself. He does look cute when he smiles up at you proudly, so you don’t have it in you to fight it.

Cole is holding your hand the moment you’re stepping onto the ice. You know how to skate and he knows you know how, so it’s not a tight, steadying grip. In fact, it’s having the opposite effect as your knees get weak because even through two pairs of thick, winter gloves you can feel every part of his hand against yours.

On the ice you can hear a guy yapping at his poor date about how good he was at hockey, how he could have gone pro, but he decided it was better for him to go to university and get a real job because of some made up reason that trailed off before he really finished his sentence. You couldn’t hide your laugh at it all, a full-bodied snort that drew the attention of the couple, so you curled into Cole to try and pretend it was something he’d said.

It did end up being Cole who was making you laugh, when he leant in closer whilst he kept you moving across the ice to repeat the guy’s ridiculous claims. The hockey bro voice he was putting on—or maybe just playing up—really sent you over the edge, and you had to hold onto him to keep upright as your laughter got to a point where breathing was problematic.

Being pulled effortlessly around the rink by Cole was something. It certainly wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, and even less so when you were able to gather some bearings and make eye contact with him. You weren’t sure anyone had ever looked at you with such softness and sincerity; you had to look away.

It’s so cliché when you step off the ice to get hot chocolate that you have no choice but to sit opposite him and ask him a question that’s been on your mind all day.

“Is this your go-to first date?”

“It’s…” he pauses briefly, sheepish. “It’s in the rotation, yeah. Seasonal. You’re my favourite.”

You avert eye contact, staring at your hands where they’re wrapped around the source of warmth that is your cup. Cole’s foot nudging against yours doesn’t do a lot to help keep your voice steady because your mind has conjured up an image of Cole and the poor date from earlier. She’s stunning, exactly the type of woman who would make a perfect WAG—no amount of makeup or otherwise traditionally feminine behaviour would ever make you feel like you could match her.

It’s with a weak voice you say, “You probably say that to all the girls.”

“No.” Cole doesn’t miss a beat. “Just you.”

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you’re filled with so much emotion that you screw your eyes shut because you don’t want to see the face he makes at your delirious smile.

Before you leave, the wannabe hockey player catches up with you and asks Cole for an autograph and a photo which are happily provided. He tells his date, before you and Cole can even get out of earshot, that he was a better player than Cole has ever been and would have gone higher in the draft had he kept up with hockey.

“Can’t believe the world doesn’t get to see the next Gretzky play just because he wants to…” he trails off into unintelligible mumbling.

The number of dates you’ve been on—and they are dates, Cole has made that exceedingly clear—is quite frankly outstanding for it having been two weeks. It feels like every day he’s free, and you don’t have classes, you’re together. It’s a lot, to be honest, but it’s not bad.

It’s not like you’ve never gone to a nice restaurant before—your parents were fans of the finer things in life, and you and your friends liked to treat yourselves on your birthdays—it’s just not something you ever pictured yourself doing with Cole. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t thought about doing much with Cole until he’d suddenly started showing interest.

The maître d’ knows Cole and you’re not so sure whether it’s because Cole is a regular or because he plays for the Habs. It’s likely both.

You don’t feel like you fit, despite any sudden interest in fashion and skincare you’ve developed—when you went out with your friends in Belgium, it was always met with judgemental, and disbelieving looks that you belonged.

You push down your discomfort and let Cole order your dinner because the menu is intimidating. He asks the waiter to bring the wine that pairs best with each course, and then turns to you and says, “Pop?”

“Just seltzer, please,” you say to Cole before turning to the waiter with a timid smile. “Thank you.”

When you turn your attention back to Cole, he’s visibly confused—his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth pulled tight. You tilt your head, confused by his confusion but he doesn’t say anything to you.

“I don’t drink soft drinks anymore,” you explain. It doesn’t clear his confusion. “Just trying to take better care of my teeth. That seems to be the change that’s got you the most.”

“Just surprised. It’s not a bad thing.”

You tilt your head at him again, waiting for him to elaborate, but the waiter returns with your drinks and Cole easily shifts the conversation to his brother, Brock.

At the next table there’s a couple, probably in their early 50s, who are absolutely besotted with each other. You catch yourself staring at them a lot throughout the evening, hoping to learn what really makes a relationship perfect. Cole notices, too, though he stares far less at them than he does at you. When you catch him staring, the heart eyes he’s developed are enough to make your heart swell.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says after one of the times he gets caught, as if it’s not what he said the second he laid eyes on you at your front door.

The compliments have come through thick and fast since Cole came back into your life. You’re not mad about them, really, and you’re proud of what you’re now able to do with your makeup and the outfits you’re able to put together so that they are outfits and not just pants and a top, but every time he says something nice you’re reminded of the years where he said nothing of the sort—when you were just another person in the same room.

It comes out of nowhere, is much of the problem. It’s been a month, maybe two, of thoughts running through your head, of what you and Cole are and what he really thinks about you—about anything—and you’ve not asked. You probably should have because it’s not an inconsistent thought in your head about what any of this even means.

You and Cole are sitting on his couch, watching a 90s teen romcom, not having said a word for half an hour, when you sit up straight and stare at him.

He looks put out by having lost your body heat, instantly reaching out to pull you back, but you can’t get over Laney Boggs’ sudden transformation into a Prom Queen and so you start spilling a months’ worth of thoughts to him.

“I can’t keep this up, Cole,” you say with all the dramatics of the main character of a romcom.

It sort of feels like he’s in a constant state of confusion when you’re around and it adds to all the thoughts running through your head because what could he possibly see in you when he doesn’t ever seem to know what to expect next.

He asks, “Keep what up?”

“Pretending that it doesn’t kill me that you’re only interested in me now that I’m more of a girly girl.”

There’s a beat, where he stares at you, and you stare back, and his face screws up and your heart does the same, but you bite your lip because really, you need to hear something from him, anything.

“What?” he says—it’s less of a question than a silence filler. “No. No that’s—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it?” You cut him off before he can stumble over any more words. “Because you weren’t taking me on dates or showing any interest when I was drinking nothing but pop and wearing nothing but sports merch but put me in a dress with a boring water in my hand and all of a sudden you can’t get enough of me.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… I don’t care about water,” he says, staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. Maybe you have. You’re not sure exactly what you look like at that moment. Promptly more unkempt than when you showed up, maybe a little crazier in the eyes—maybe doing a reverse She’s All That while the end of the movie plays behind you.

“You can’t even deny it,” you argue back, sitting further back against the arm of the couch and putting more space between you and Cole. He’s listening to every word you say, rolling them all through his mind one by one. “I thought I was alright with it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you have ever looked at me that way if everything about me hadn’t changed?”

Cole’s face changes even more at that point, the confusion morphing into something a little pained and that makes sense to you if he feels like he’s been called out. He leans forward, trying to close some of the space you’ve created, but pulls back a little when you show any sign of helping the space disappear.

His shoulders fall and he says confidently, “I’m into you, babe. Just you.”

There’s part of you that wonders why he hasn’t made a move. There have been makeouts and cuddling but nothing more and you’re not mad about that at all, you’re quite happy that the pace has been slow in that respect, but the fact that it hasn’t come up at all has been playing on your mind because is he into you? Any version of you?

It’s not the most burning question in your mind right then, though, and you manage to get out, “But would you have ever asked me out the way I was before Belgium?”

“I didn’t…” All his confidence is gone. “I didn’t think of you that way before.”

You nod and stand, knowing that staying in that room is going to hurt even more than the conversation you’ve just had. So you say, “Okay,” as you’re walking to the door and following it up with, “That’s all I needed to know,” when you’re turning the doorknob.

Cole is standing, too, though he’s not moving towards you. He’s standing by the couch, looking small and curled in on himself. Your heart breaks just a little bit more when he asks, “Are we—Are we breaking up?”

Despite all the dates and the time you’ve been spending together, you’re not even sure that you’re at a point where you can ‘break up’. There’s been no conversation about what you are outside of calling the time you’re spending together dates.

“I don’t know what we are, Cole,” you say, tired and desperate to get out of his house and be alone. “I just need some time to think.”

You can hear your roommate open the front door, immediately telling whoever is there that you don’t want to see them. It’s not hard to connect the dots. Especially not when they line up perfectly with the Habs returning from a road trip.

Cole is talking before your roommate has even finished speaking, hurriedly trying to say he just wants to talk to you, and nothing else, and he has to explain things and the more the talks the faster he gets, and your roommate is trying to get a word in but Cole isn’t letting her.

It’s not anybody else’s job to be your bodyguard, so you prepare yourself mentally to rescue her from his rapid-fire speech. There’s no physical effort to put in, especially not when you putting in effort is what caused all your problems to begin with, so you step into the hall wearing a two-sizes-too-large Habs shirt with a hole in each armpit and the shorts made of sweatpants material that haven’t been seen outside your house since prior to you leaving for Belgium. Your skincare routine may or may not have been neglected in the last 48 hours, you don’t actually remember. The spots brewing suggest it’s more like in the may not column.

Yet, despite that, Cole’s eyes are on you the second you’re in his line of sight, and the relief rolling off him is palpable. He stops talking, finally taking a breath, and you just nod at your roommate when she silently asks if you actually want to do this. She takes a deep breath, waits half a second for you to change your mind, and then leaves you and Cole standing in your small entry hall.

“Sorry about the road trip,” you say, suddenly struck by his silence after how fast his mouth had been moving before you were standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds desperate, even more so than when he was begging to see you. “I—I’m into you. I don’t want whatever you think I think to get in the way of that.”

“But you weren’t into before I looked different.”

“You don’t look that different,” he counters. “I don’t think you’re wearing any make up right now and I am still really into you.”

Your cheeks warm, and you struggle to get out anything because you truthfully don’t have a lot of will to argue with him if he’s into you. You do manage, “You never showed any interest before,” which is just a repeat of everything you’ve already said.

“Then you disappeared for months, and I realised I missed you. The timing isn’t great for whatever you think is going on, but I promise I like you. A lot. And I want to keep going on dates and hanging out and all of that stuff. You can wear whatever you want or don’t want, it makes no difference to me.”

“Why didn’t you say any of that last week?”

He laughs, a snort which is largely self-deprecating, “I couldn’t wrap my head around what you were saying because it didn’t make sense to me. Kind of put me on the spot there, babe. Also felt like a bit of a trap with the movie if we’re being honest with each other.”

You sigh, “The movie was an accident. It did, uh, cause everything to kind of burst, though.”

“Can we go back to hanging out? To dating? The last week’s sucked sorta hard.”

You can’t disagree that it’s sucked sorta hard. Despite needing the time to think about it, the absence of Cole’s silly texts throughout the day or his random minute-long phone calls because his thought was too much for a text had left a huge gap in your day that you hadn’t even realised he’d been filling.

It’s easy, then, to move towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.