#the holly crowned one

[zackprincebooks]

Friday Kiss Tag 😘

Tagged by the always lovely @the-golden-comet! Enjoy a little sneak peek at Chapter 7 of Godhunt. A full spice version will be available to the Friends and Lovers tier on Ream shortly after Chapter 7 is posted (which should be at the end of July/beginning of August.)

Louis relaxes into their lap, looping their arms around his neck and leaning into their hold. Their body isn’t warm, but chilly like the mist of a forest morning. Louis only presses closer, trying to warm them with his own thin, mortal skin. The hand that cups his chin moves down to stroke the wiry, dark brown hair dappling his chest.  “Sweet thing,” they murmur into his ear, gently kissing the shell. Louis shudders and they gently blow a puff of cool air across his neck. The Holly-Crowned One continues kissing down his jaw and neck before they reach his jugular. Yes, this is what Louis had wanted at the Flower Ball; he wanted to sink his canines into their neck.  One of his hands sinks into their white hair at the same time that their teeth sink into his skin— And he awakens.

Open for any takers! Tag list below:

@katenewmanwrites @wyked-ao3 @burntblanc @lorifragolina

@nczaversnick @glasshouses-and-stones @thatuselesshuman @mushroommanchanterelle

@phoenixofthegreenwood @ilovevewritingfanfic @jev-urisk @lizurich

@villain-lover7899 @rivenantiqnerd

Interact with this post if you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list!

[zackprincebooks]

Tired baker (the bread kind) investigates spooky enby god in the woods, cracks egg in the process.

make me want to read your book in one sentence.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

2023 may be Grazer's year to take the Fat Bear crown

[athalantan]

Oh my god 1335 is the same year El started fostering Lhaeo too? Lhaeo and Susprina were raised together? Holy shit?

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Under the Mistletoe 1

SUMMARY: You told your classmates about Christmas and the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. But what if it's someone else helping you get a kiss from your crush? Or your crush trying to get a kiss from you? Or even prevent you from kissing someone else?

CHARACTERS: Heartslabyul (Riddle, Ace; Deuce; Cater; Trey); Savanaclaw (Leona; Jack; Ruggie) & Octavinelle (Azul; Jade; Floyd)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kissing

WORD COUNT: An average of 340 words per character.

COMMENTS: As I believe some characters would be more direct and others would try to beat around the bush some have more words than others for this reason.

I hope you all enjoy and have a Merry Christmas. 🎁

Under the Mistletoe 2 - Scarabia (Kalim; Jamil); Pomefiore (Vil; Epel; Rook); Ignihyde (Idia + Ortho) & Diasomnia (Malleus; Silver; Sebek; Lilia)

CONTEXT: As the end of the year approaches and the snow begins to fall, you comment to your schoolmates that it is reminding you of a holiday that exists in your world called Christmas. They get curious and ask you more about it, you talk about the gifts, the tree, getting the family together, etc.

Until Cater asks if there wouldn't be any romantic traditions on such a cute holiday, and the first thing that comes to your mind is the tradition of two people having to kiss if they both happen to be under a mistletoe or holly.

You even say that there are people who purposely place mistletoe in a strategic spot to attract the person they want to kiss and pretend it was an accident. A very popular Christmas romance troupe.

Riddle heard about what you said about Christmas from the other Heartslabyul students. Ace and Deuce were the ones who came up with the idea of one last Unbirthday party for you before they go home for winter break as a way of trying to help with your homesickness. He went to Ramshackle Dorm to invite you and Grim personally.

“Good morning, [Y/N].” Riddle greets you when you open the door and tells you about the party they're having for you that afternoon. “Don't worry, it wasn't inconvenient at all. The preparations were the same as for a regular Unbirthday party, the only difference is that it was made especially for you this time. And speaking of things for you.” He takes a small red box with a bow out of his pocket. “Ace and Deuce told us that one of your traditions was exchanging gifts. I hope you like it.” He hands you the present with a smile.

You thank him but say you don't have a gift for him because you didn't know he was going to give you one.

“Do not worry, I understand. If the rules of your tradition are that you must give me a gift in return, I will gladly accept it. If not, it is your holiday, you will know better than I what to do. I just hope that following your holiday rules can cheer you up a little.”

You open the present, it's a crown-shaped lapel pin, just like the one he always wears.

“May I?” He asks, taking the pin out of the little box and deftly placing it on the lapel of your uniform blazer. “It looks good on you.” He smiles.

You two hear something above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe.

“Mistletoe?” He wonders and looks at you. “Do you have any idea what they might be doing?”

You tell him about the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe and he blushes, but you quickly say that it is not mandatory, if either person feels uncomfortable they can refuse.

“So you are saying that the rule is that if two people meet under a mistletoe, they must both kiss if neither of them objects?” He recaps and you confirm. “W-well... It turns out that I meet all the requirements of such a rule. Do you object?”

You say that you do not.

“In that case, we have a rule to follow. And you know how I dislike rule breakers.” He smiles smugly, holds your chin with his fingers and kisses you gently.

Ace was one of the people you told about Christmas and the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm. When you open the door you see Ace with his forearm resting on the door frame.

“Hey, [Y/N]. Tell me, wasn't it to you that I lent my notes on the history of magic?” He asks with that cat-like smile.

You immediately suspect because it is always YOU who lends HIM your notes.

“So it must have been someone else.” He looks up. “By the way, you should take care of that mistletoe growing outside your dorm.” You look up at the top of the door frame and see a sprig of mistletoe taped to it. “Hey, didn't you talk about some tradition with it?” He smiles.

You laugh amusedly.

“Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't have the guts?” He smirks. “I'm up for the challenge!”

You take a step forward and lean in slightly showing that you are also up for the challenge. This makes him blush.

“Hey, just to be clear, you know I'm not trying to force you, right? You don't have to do it if you don't want to.” He smiles awkwardly.

You ask if after all the one who doesn't have courage is him.

“Ah, now I know we’re on the same page here.” He takes your hand to pull you towards him a little and kisses you without further hesitation.

Deuce was one of the people you talked to about Christmas and he went to talk to Riddle to ask if they could have a little Unbirthday party before they left to ease your homesickness a little. Riddle agrees and Deuce went to Ramshackle Dorm to invite you and Grim and take you two to the party.

This is what he tells you with a smile when you open the door for him. He starts to blush when you thank him for being so sweet to you.

“I-It's nothing, really.” He says with an awkward smile. “I just wanted to cheer you up. Oh! By the way, you talked about exchanging gifts, right?” He hands you a present he was hiding behind his back. “You don't need to worry about giving me one back. It's just because you said it was one of your traditions. I hope you like it.”

You open the present, it's a scarf and a matching pair of gloves, blue with black spades. You thank him and that's when you hear laughter above you. You both look up and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe.

“You mentioned mistletoe as another tradition, didn't you?” He asks confused. “What was it again?”

You recap what you said about the kiss under the mistletoe, he blushes like crazy and stutters.

“W-well, I... I d-don't mind... I mean I would like to- I mean, ugh, what about you?”

You say you would like it too and take a step forward. He leans in so his lips are level with yours, but you'll have to be the one to initiate the kiss because he won't be able to do more than close his eyes and wait for you to do it. But once you do, you'll feel his lips form a smile.

Not only was Cater one of the people you told about Christmas, he was the one who asked if there were any romantic traditions. And since you mentioned the mistletoe thing he decided to do what he was about to do when he came to visit you.

“Hey, [Y/N]-chan~.” Cater greets you with a cute smile. “How are you feeling? Are you still homesick? I've been thinking about what you told us and...” He takes a present from behind his back and hands it to you. “Here! I wanted to give you a little gift.��

You thank him but say you don't have any gifts for him.

“Aww, don't worry about it. You don't need to give me one. Your smile is more than enough.” He winks.

You open the present, it's a teddy bear the same color as his hair.

“On top of things, you'll be here alone during the winter break. If you miss me, hug the teddy bear and feel hugged by me, mkay~? Oh, by the way, I was really curious about that mistletoe tradition you talked about. Would you mind showing me what it is like?” He says, fiddling with his lock of hair.

You're flattered and say you wouldn't mind, but there's no mistletoe above the two of you. He takes his magic pen and makes a sprig of mistletoe he had in his pocket float over your heads.

“Now there is~. You said there were people who do it on purpose, so this counts too, right?” He smiles as you nod.

He leans in, touching his nose to yours and with a seductive look, inviting you to be the one to initiate the kiss.

Trey heard about what you said about Christmas from his Heartslabyul dorm mates. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he came to see you at Ramshackle Dorm.

“Hello, [Y/N]. How are you?”

You say you're fine but wonder why he's asking.

“It's just that Ace and Deuce told me about that holiday you have in your world around this time of the year and that it was making you a little homesick.” He takes his hand from behind his back revealing a gift bag. “They said that one of your traditions was exchanging gifts, so I thought I'd make you something to cheer you up a little. Don't worry, you don't have to give me anything in return.”

You accept it and thank him for the gift. When you open it, it's a bag of your favorite type of cookies, homemade by him.

“Be careful with Grim around, okay? I made the cookies for you, or at least most of them.” He smiles. “Oh, by the way, Cater said something about a tradition with mistletoe and to ask you about it.”

You tell him about the kiss under the mistletoe

“Oh, I see.” He straightens his glasses and smiles awkwardly. “That's why he told me about it then.”

With curiosity you ask why.

“Because he's convinced we have a crush on each other.” He sees you getting flustered and keeps smiling. “Maybe he wanted that to happen to us?”

You two hear something above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe.

“Ha ha ha. And it seems he's not the only one. Well, rules are rules. Unless you don't want to do it of course.” He keeps his reassuring smile on.

Once you say you do want to do it he will smirk, tilt your head with his fingers on your chin and kiss you sweetly.

Leona found out about this Christmas thing because he ended up overhearing a conversation between Jack and Ruggie, and Jack ended up talking about the mistletoe tradition. The day before he left to spend the winter break at home, he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Oi, herbivore, do you have any mistletoe?” He asks you. You ask why. “It has to do with a tradition of mine," He smirks. "Do you have it or not?” He crosses his arms.

You say you don't have any. And why would you have it? They're poisonous, you can't even use them in the kitchen.

“Okay then, have a good winter break.” He says with another smirk and turns to leave.

You grab him by the sleeve so he stops and looks at you and you ask him what that was all about. What kind of tradition was he talking about? He says it's no big deal, that it's just a tradition from his country. And you say something like: “As if you weren't the most tradition-hating person I know.”

“Ha ha, you know me well. I don't follow stupid traditions but I don't know about you, so I needed to do something just in case.”

“Something about what?” You ask.

“Something about your stupid tradition with mistletoe.” He reveals, frowning his eyebrows and lowering his ears as if he was annoyed. “I heard what you told Jack about this, so I decided to take precautions.”

“How would you take precautions about that?”

“Simple, destroying all the mistletoe into sand with my signature spell.” He smiles smugly. “But don't worry, if you still want to carry out this tradition of yours I saved one for you.” With his magic pen he makes a sprig of mistletoe float over both of your heads. “Take it or leave it, herbivore.”

You will have to be the one to take the first step forward and reveal your intentions to kiss him. If you do, he will grab you by the waist and kiss you.

Jack was one of the people you talked to about Christmas and consequently who also ended up hearing about the mistletoe tradition. But that wasn't what he was thinking about the time he went to visit you at Ramshackle Dorm the day before he went home for winter break.

“Hey, [Y/N].” He greets you with a smile and a little wagging of his tail, but then he got slightly shy. “I've been thinking about what you said about this Christmas thing and... um...” He took his hands from behind his back and handed you a present. “You talked about exchanging gifts. I... thought maybe following one of your traditions would cheer you up a little.”

You accept the gift and thank him but say you don't have one for him.

“Don't worry about it. It's your tradition anyway, not mine. You don't need to get me anything.”

You open the present, it's a knitted light brown cardigan with a snowflake pattern. You tell him how cute/pretty it is as you try it on.

“I'm glad you liked it. It's also very warm for these days. Ah? Sorry, I got you a size bigger than yours. I can exchange it if you want.” He rubs the back of his neck with his ears down.

You say it's not necessary, it even covers more that way, making it even warmer.

“It's actually cute seeing you like that.” After realizing what he just said, he blushes a little and looks away, embarrassed.

You two hear something above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe. Jack starts by looking at it confused until he remembers what you had said about it. He was too flustered to say anything, and that was a tradition of yours, not his. You say you don't object to kissing and ask about him.

“Y-you don't?” He tries not to express too much with his face, but he can't do the same with his tail. “Well, me neither.”

You take a step forward and close your eyes, it takes him a moment to gather the courage to lean in and kiss you.

Ruggie heard about this Christmas thing from Jack and he ended up telling him about the mistletoe tradition as well.

“Wait!” Reggie says sullenly. “You mean anyone who's with [Y/N] under a mistletoe have to be kissed by them?”

“That's what they said. If both of them agree, of course.”

The day before he goes home for winter break you see him in the backyard of Ramshackle Dorm. You call out to him who had his back to you, he turns around suddenly and smiles awkwardly.

“H-hey, [Y/N]! What am I doing? I... came to see how you were. Jack told me about that holiday you have in your world this time of year and that you were a little bit down because of it.”

You appreciate his concern but ask what that has to do with him being in your yard instead of knocking on your door.

“I, um...” He sighs and with a sullen face and his ears down he gives up. “Fine! Jack also told me about your tradition of kissing someone under the mistletoe and I was trying to get rid of them all. Happy?”

You ask if he was doing that so you wouldn't kiss anyone.

“What else could it be?” He sighs and calms down. “Sorry, I don't know what came over me. I didn't want to ruin your tradition... or yard. Just... Never mind, forget it! Have a nice winter break.”

He turns to leave, but you grab his sleeve to stop him and make him look at you again. You ask him if he would feel better if you fulfilled that tradition with him and he blushes.

“With me?... Well, if you don't come and charge me for it later.” He shows you that wide smile of his.

But you say you need a mistletoe for that and if he's been getting rid of them all...

“And where did you think I was going to put them when I found them?” He takes a sprig of mistletoe from his coat pocket. “This was the only thing I found around that wasn't the tree in the botanical garden. It probably even came from there.”

He stretches out his arm and places the sprig over your heads.

“Come on, I want everything I'm entitled to. Shye hee hee.”

He wants you to be the one to give him the kiss. After all, he's the type to receive, not to give. But as soon as you do he won't hold back.

Jade told Azul after hearing from other sources. Azul asked him why he was telling him that, suspicious. Jade replied with a smile: “I just thought it was information of extreme value to you of all people.”

Azul could tell Jade was messing with him, but he still asked who knew about that mistletoe tradition and Jade said those kinds of things spread quickly through the school. On the same day he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N].” Azul greets you with his charismatic smile. “I heard that you were felling a little homesick because of a holiday in your world that took place at this time of year. I also heard about a tradition of exchanging gifts. Is this true?”

You confirm.

“What a wonderful thing. That's why I took the liberty of getting you one.” He takes his hands from behind his back and reveals a beautifully wrapped small present with elegant wrapping paper. “I hope it can cheer you up.”

You don't take the gift and look at him with extreme suspicion.

“You don't want to accept a gift that I am offering you with so much thoughtfulness. *sniff* Your distrust breaks my heart.”

You continue to look at him suspiciously and say that you know him well enough to know that he never gives or even receives something without there being an exchange of some sort. His fake crying turns into a sly smile.

“I see you learn quickly. I'm even proud. How about we do this: if you don't like my gift, you can return it to me and we won't make a deal. But if you like it, I'll just ask you for a small favor in return.” You ask what favor. “I'm not asking much, just a token really, a trifle. What I want from you is that you get rid of all the mistletoes you may come across. Do you think this is an unreasonable thing to do?”

“Well no, but-”

“So I don't see why you can't accept my proposal. Go on, open the present and see what it is.”

You open the small, delicate package revealing a beautiful necklace whose pendant is the famous golden shell of the Sea Witch. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling in time.

“So you like it that much?” He smiles triumphantly. “Have we got a deal?”

You ask why that specific agreement and he tries to give excuses that you know are not true until he reveals that he knows about the mistletoe tradition. You ask him if he doesn't want you to kiss someone.

“If it's not me, no!” He replied in the heat of the moment and blushed.

You two hear a sound above you, look up, and see a ghost's hand holding a sprig of mistletoe. What if the deal is that you just follow that tradition with him? You propose this, showing that you are interested in him, which renews his confidence.

“You mean like an exclusivity contract?” He smiles seductively. "Those are my favorites.” He tilts your head with his fingers on your chin and kisses you sweetly.

Jade knows what you said about Christmas through a friendly conversation with Deuce whom he approached for reasons completely unrelated. Later on the same day he knocks on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Good afternoon [Y/N].” He greets you with a polite smile. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, but I heard about what you said regarding a holiday you have in your world this time of year and I got quite curious to know more. May I invite you to talk about it over a cup of tea?” He brought with him a little bag with different tea bags.

You let him in and supervise him as he prepares tea for the two of you in your kitchen. He took the opportunity to talk to you while he prepared tea and some tuna snacks so Grim wouldn't interrupt your conversation. You ended up talking so much that you even talked about Santa Claus.

You were already sitting on the lounge sofa with your teas (Grim in the kitchen with his snacks) when Jade says: “I wanted to ask you: I heard of a mistletoe tradition that involves two people kissing. Is this true?”

You confirm and explain better how the tradition goes.

“I see. What a romantic tradition. May I be so bold as to ask if you could demonstrate with me what this tradition is like?” He sees that you're flustered. “Fu fu. Can I take this as you not minding doing it for me?”

You confirm and he says he's glad he brought mistletoe with him. As it is a poisonous plant, he had some interest in studying it in the botanical garden. With his magic pen he makes the sprig of mistletoe floating above your heads. He gently tilts your head with his fingers on your chin. “May I?” He asks before kissing you.

Floyd heard about what you said about Christmas from Ace during a rest break at basketball practice. Even though he found this holiday boring from the description, he was interested in that mistletoe thing. That's why he was knocking on the door of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Hiiii Koebi-chaaan~!” Floyd greets you with a well-disposed smile. “I heard about your holiday and I wanted to try the mistletoe thing with you.” He says with the utmost naturalness.

You ask if he is talking about two people kissing under the mistletoe.

“Yeah, that's it. You don't mind showing me what it is like, right?” He knows you like him, that's why he's so confident about this. “Do you have any mistletoe?”

You say that unfortunately you don't have any and he pouts. But then he has an idea and smiles again.

“Does that mean we have to find one? Okay~, that’s more fun. Come on Koebi-chan!” He takes your hand and takes you with him.

If you couldn't close the door before he pulled you, he'll close it for you with magic. Even when you are already walking at the same pace as him, he doesn't let go of your hand. He doesn't feel like doing it. Floyd takes you to the botanical garden.

“Jade and some other guys have been studying mistletoe for its poisonousness, so there's at least one of those trees around here. Now we just have to find it.” He tells you excitedly, he seems to find this treasure hunt fun, at least for the moment.

You managed to find the tree before he loses his patience. He says he feels tired and makes you sit at the foot of the tree trunk with him. If you let him, the two of you will end up having a make-out session. A kiss for every sprig of mistletoe.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[bellacatt-art]

HOLLY FANS, RISE UP!! 🗣‼️🙌

*In order not to just pit "Queeg" against "White Hole", I've expanded the definition of "Holly episode" to include ones which maybe just have one good scene for the character e.g. Hattie saving the crew's lives in "Back To Reality" or Norman re-enacting the "Everybody's Dead" scene in "Skipper".

[inbarfink]

Actually, one little detail I find very amusing is that when Simon Petrikov first introduces himself in the ‘Holly Jolly Secrets’ tapes he says he’s studying to be an antiquarian

But in every other appearance since then he just says he is an antiquarian.

Implying either Simon, while the Crown was actively driving him crazy and his life was falling apart and he was probably crying about Betty every night

still managed to finish his academic degree.

Or he's just smoothing over the truth to make himself seem more scholarly.

[skeltnwrites]

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

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

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

── .✦

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Wheeler beams, eyes springing to yours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓ★

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, sorry!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We had like three seconds. I panicked!” 

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

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

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

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

“Can we play tag?”

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

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

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

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

“Bracelets?” 

“You want to make some?” 

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

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

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

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

“Umm, yellow. No– green!” 

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

“Mmmm. No, thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, purple’s okay. Do you?” 

She nods, pinching a lilac gem and examining it. 

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

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

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

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

“Very patriotic,” Steve teases. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No?” 

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

“But you didn’t,” she giggles. 

“Holly doesn’t lie, Steve.” 

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

“It has every color on there.” 

“One of which is your favorite.” 

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

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s good! I promise, just try it.” 

She slowly shakes no again. 

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

He scoffs. “It’s not that burnt.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Barely,” you mumble. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.” 

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

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

ᯓ★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we have eggs?” she asks you. 

“Sure.” 

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

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

She turns to nod at him, smile blooming. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” 

“Me neither. Just wear that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” you ask, laughing lightly. 

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

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

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

“Oh, Steve. Here, look.” 

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

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

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

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

She squeals and scoots back. “Cold!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He crimps the hose with one hand, smirking deviously. 

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

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

“Truce?” 

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

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

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

“Dustin talks about you all the time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your frown melts, little by little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Umm, can you give me a hint?” 

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

“Uhh, Barbie?” 

“Nooo.” 

“Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Nooo.” 

“Hello Kitty?” 

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

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

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

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

“There’s a new password.”

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

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

“Purple?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lion or hippo?” he asks Holly. 

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

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

“Where’s the other half?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

She crinkles her nose. “You eat it!” 

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

“What about you?” 

“I’m already big and strong.” 

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

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

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

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

He squeezes her ankle until it darts away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Holl.” 

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

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

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

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

She nods against your chin. 

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

Holly sniffles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hums. 

“I think we should have popsicles for dessert.” 

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

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” she admits meekly. 

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

“No– I want one!”

“I dunnooo,” he sings.

“Please, Stevie! You already said.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What color do you want?” 

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

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

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

You purse your lips, “Surprise me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

You and Steve exchange a look of mutual fondness. 

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

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

He peels one eye open, playfully cocking an eyebrow. 

She giggles and pinches the skin closed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Queen!”

Steve snorts but she must miss it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The prettiest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want her now.” 

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

“We’re right here.” 

“No– Mommy!” 

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

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

“No. Mommy,” she persists. 

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

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

“Both,” Holly whines. 

“Wanna lay with both of us?” 

She nods. “In the middle.” 

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

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

She hums her approval into his ear. 

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

“Goodnight, Hollybear,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’d take good care of her.”

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

“So are you. Kinda surprised me actually.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it–” 

“Are we–”

“Sorry, you go,” he jabbers out. 

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

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

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

“You don't mind? If I stayed?”

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it… weird? To be in here?” 

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

You hum, watching the gentle shift in his brows. 

“Is it weird for you?” 

“Me?” you ask. “In what way?” 

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

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

“What does that make me? Your brother?” 

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

“Okay. That’s just mean.”

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

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

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

“Okay, okay. But love interest because…”

“Cause you dated Nance.”

“Oh,” he exhales. 

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

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

“Keep your snoring to a minimum, please.” 

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

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

“No, you didn’t.”

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

“Whatever. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

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

ᯓ★

“Shhhh!” 

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

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

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

“Ew– did you just lick me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” he shouts. 

“Potty!” 

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

“Morning.”

“Did she kick you last night?” 

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

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

“Aww, she loves you,” you coo. 

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

“Hmm?”

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

“You’ll be a good dad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You push the comforter off before you burst into flames. 

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

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

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

“Can I get extra sprinkles?”

“Uhh, does your mom let you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hurry!” 

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

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

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

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

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

You wince, “Okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Holly twists to hide in your neck, nodding. 

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

“No, just babysitting.” 

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

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

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

You get seated in a booth overlooking the parking lot. 

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

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

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

“Yep–”

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

Holly slides her paper menu closer, examining each activity. 

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

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

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

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

“Op-ta-nist?”

“Op-ta-mist,” he clarifies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was an accident,” Holly explains. 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“It’s sticky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug, smile doubling. “You.”

“What about me?” 

“You’re just funny.” 

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

“She’s fine, Steve.” 

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

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

“See. She’s fine,” you reassure.

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

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

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

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

Holly trots over not much later, alarmingly upset. 

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

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

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

“No,” she strains. 

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

She nods, hiccuping into your neck. 

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

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

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

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

“Ready to go home?” you ask.

She sniffs into her sleeve. “Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You each step toward a blue dot. Easy. 

“Right foot on green.” 

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

“Right hand… yellow!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Right hand, red,” Holly announces. 

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

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

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

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

“Umm, left foot green,” Holly says. 

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

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

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

“Right hand, green.” 

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

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

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

“Left foot blue!”

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

“Shit, sorry! You okay?” 

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

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

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

“Did you hit your face?”

“Just my chin.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“When you’re older then.”

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

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

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

“Can we dress up?”

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

“Pasta?” you call from the pantry.

“Ooh, yeah. Let’s do that.”

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

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

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

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

“No?” 

“No, dump like, half of that out.” 

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

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

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

“Maybe half? Little more?” 

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

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

“Sauce?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How long does it take?” Steve asks.

“Not long.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re staring at me. I feel it.” 

“I wasn’t,” he assures. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you are not. Shut up.” 

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

You hum in agreement. 

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

Your smile spills into your cheeks. “We?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you mumble, “You didn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say that.”

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

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

“What about her?” 

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

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

“Yeah, but do you–”

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

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

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

“I believe you.” 

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

ᯓ★

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

He mumbles something unintelligible, sleep talk perhaps. 

You whisper back anyway, “What?” 

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

“Me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mommy!” you hear quickly after. 

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

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

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

Mrs. Wheeler grins. “How was she?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” he parrots. 

“This weekend, right?” 

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

“Okay,” you nod. 

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

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

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

“Don’t be so sure.” 

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

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

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

[naffeclipse]

Lone Mistletoe

Reader x Rich!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

This request was made by the darling @deliasmoothie for a little Christmas date centered around her Rich Boys AU and a reader who owns a bakery! After a late closing, the reader gets a visit from millionaire heirs Sun and Moon and a reminder that they have a very special evening planned. The lovely artwork is done by @deliasmoothie as well! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

———

You’re late.

You scramble to put away the dough that will rise softly through the night in the storage area. The clatter of baking sheets echoes over the faint jingle of Christmas music which plays in the entrance of the bakery. Gathering bags of empty flour that were left undisposed, you throw those into giant waste bins and rush to clean off counter tops before muttering under your breath that the front needs to be swept lest customers enter tomorrow morning and find dirty floors.

A glance to the clock quickens your already frantic heart rate. You should already be out the door, dressed for a fine night of dining and whatever plans your dates may have. Oh, you’re going to be disappointing.

A nervous perspirant begins under your pits as you frantically fly through closing chores. Your employees would usually be more than happy to finish everything up without you, but one called out for the day citing a family emergency, and the other needed to go home early for the sake of a sick child. You are left to stack up the jars of ginger spice and vanilla used in gingerbread men and Christmas cookies respectfully and set them where they belong. 

The minutes turn into half an hour. You’re going to melt into a puddle on the floor but you won’t allow another mess to be made when you just finished sweeping. Snagging your phone after leaning the broom against the wall, you begin punching in a quick text of explanation and apologies when the front door opens with a soft jingle from the welcome bell. 

You curse under your breath. You should have locked it by now if your mind wasn’t cutting through the checklist of things needing to be done.

“I’m sorry,” you call out as you walk to the counter. “We’re closed—”

You stop short, the breath caught in your throat.

Two handsome animatronics stand in the lobby of your bakery. Among the Christmas decor of candy canes stuck to the window and boughs of holly hanging along the walls, they stand in glamor and confidence.

One animatronic sports a crown of sun rays around his head, sharp and brightly yellow, with a grin to match. His pale blue optics lack the sunglasses he would so often sport during summer. He wears a stylish long coat of red, with a white shirt sporting a high collar, and brown slacks, all done in a bold and daring style. The other holds a crescent marking upon his face, half silver, half dark, with a deep blue nightcap trailing down his back decorated in stars. He dons a black coat, simple yet striking, and a deep blue turtleneck sweater and dark trousers. They share matching figures of lithe limbs and slender waists, their clothes accenting every handsome part of who they are.

Your dates.

Most importantly, the heirs of a national billion-dollar company. 

“Sweetie pie?” Sun laughs with equal affection and concern. His blue eyes are wide upon you. “Are you alright?”

Your hand immediately flies to your hair. It is a mess of wisps and strands escaping from the messy bun you had it pinned into today. 

Moon looks around the shop, his brow quizzical, as if searching for a threat before his gaze rests on you. His expression softens. 

“Sun, Moon? What are you two doing here?” Your attention slips past them to the open windows. You quickly rush forward. They step apart to let you fly between them, and watch as you quickly yank down the blinds and lock the front door. 

They can’t be seen here. Your bakery is small, hardly a blip on the map, and people don’t know who the heirs are dating—though the tabloids have speculated who their newest beau may be. 

You made it clear to Sun and Moon when they first asked you out for a little coffee date over this very same counter that you would go with them because you enjoy their company, not the names they carry nor the fortune they hold. The public, however, will assume the worst: you’re in it to make your bakery known and catch more sales. Or perhaps, the opposite. The heirs are lording over you with their black credit cards, enticing you into their demands. 

Neither is true. Regardless, you don’t want them spotted here with you, alone.

You turn around and huff a breath, pushing a wisp of hair back from your face.

“Cinnamonroll, you are late for dinner, and the restaurant is only a few blocks from here.” Moon steps forward, his hands reaching for you. His pale pupils track you with a gentle study. “We were concerned.”

You keep trying to power walk back behind the counter but another set of arms stop you gently.

“Sweetie pie, breathe for a moment.” Sun stands over you. His hands hold your arms gently, keeping you in place. “It’s alright. They’re not going to withdraw our reservation.”

He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You flush, bowing your head slightly. This was not how the evening was supposed to go.

“I’m sorry.” You confess what happened throughout the day, losing your employees one by one until you were left to close. 

“Do you need any help?” Moon steps closer. He brushes a hand against your cheek. When he draws his touch back, you find pale flour on the tips of his silver digits. His grin is mischievous but sweet when he chuckles. “Messy little treat, aren’t you?”

A deep pink fills your face as your heart swoons within you.

“No, no,” you shake your head fiercely, “I mean—I’m done, I just… Can you give me a few minutes to get ready?”

“Of course,” they answer in unison.

You look between both of them, a sweetness filling your mouth as your shoulders lower in relief. You dust your hands together. With that, you fly behind the counter and to the upper floor where your apartment is located. 

Dinner is waiting.

*

Dinner is, as always, incredible. You’re not sure how Sun and Moon find the most delicious—and expensive—restaurants but they manage to surprise you each and every time. Of course, you almost fall out of your chair when the bill is brought and Sun flips out a sleek, black credit card without glancing at the numbers to resume asking about your thoughts on the holiday season—and how you would like to spend it. Moon in the same fashion orders a few desserts for you to try at your leisure while candlelight softly flickered over the table.

Now, you walk softly between them, both of your hands occupied by long and large digits cradling your gloved hands. The air nips at your nose. Snow litters the park plaza as around you, people skate on an ice rink set before a towering Christmas tree and couples huddle close together, sipping hot cocoa.

You have to crank your neck back to take in the majestic glow and glitter of the decorated tree in the pitch black evening. Lights twinkle like starlight and golden garland wraps its thick, evergreen limbs. Tinsel shines like silver against its emerald dark hue. Ornaments, large and painted in rich blues, greens, and reds, hang to the edges.

Sun and Moon shelter you in their warmth. Their coats, made of fine material with brand names that look far too French and expensive to be something you ever hope to possess, drape against you. Sun lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. Moon rubs your palm, ensuring you keep warm despite the frigid night.

To your relief, no one seems to notice them. Of course, it helps that you and your dates are swallowed up in scarfs and hats, but you find yourself prickling with slight anxiety while glancing around. It’s the same nervousness that has plagued you throughout the entire evening.

You feel your best when you’re alone with Sun and Moon, with no eyes upon you, judging and deeming what is right and what is wrong. All you know is that it feels good when you hear them laugh or they ask you how another busy day was at the bakery. 

That should be all that matters, but your self-conscious fears are a niggling thing in the back of your mind.

Moon shares a glance with Sun, who gives a slight nod. He then suggests taking a walk further down the park, where there are less people gathering under the light of the tree and watching the ice skaters.

You’re more than happy to.

A few little shops are sprinkled along the path turning deeper into the snowy covered park. Moon asks if you would like hot cocoa or a new pair of ice skates. You politely decline. Sun says they might need to buy you a new coat since you’re shivering so much, but again, you shake your head with a smile.

They like to give. This is not a manner of ego and flaunting, but a manner of kindness, you’ve learned. 

The soft silence is muffled by the white frost decorating the ground. Moon and Sun clutch your hands a little tighter whenever patches of ice pop up along the sidewalk. In the peace and stillness, your eyes fall upon a snow-white arch down the path you take. Hung in the center of it, tied with red ribbon, is mistletoe. 

Your ears warm despite the sub-zero temperatures. Glancing between your dates, you nervously rub at their fingers. Sun and Moon slow, their eyes landing on the very same plant.

“There is something we can give you, sweetie pie,” Sun declares as he begins to stride forward, pulling you along with him.

“Oh, Sun,” you try to protest while struggling to hide your flustered tone. “What if someone sees?”

“It’s only us, cinnamon roll,” Moon rolls low over his tongue. “Don’t worry.”

You blush fiercely. Reaching the white arch, Sun and Moon stop. Your heart beats heavy within you while softly, Sun face faces you. Moon slips behind you, his touch resting on your hips. You begin to warm despite the chill, afraid you look pink from head to toe. 

You trust them both. A certainty clings to you that you are safe in the quiet of the night and the cold of the snow so long as you have them.

Sun cups your cheek in his palm. His gaze glimmers gently while he leans in closer. You find his hand and tuck it over your heart, clinging to his fingers as if you’re afraid to lose him. Maybe you are. 

But every thought within you fades when his lips touch yours. He pushes gently into your affection. A slow pull of his mouth teases you before he returns to reassure you that he is here to stay. You taste him. Confidence and want burn together in how he effortlessly strokes your cheek and tilts your head slightly in his soft fervor.

Pulling back, he sighs while brushing his thumb over your lips. You hold his gaze despite the heat in your cheeks.

His hands rest on your shoulders. Moon, however, gently twists your hips until you’re facing him. Sun’s hands remain on you, falling down your spine. 

Moon’s gaze is warm and heated in the dark. Under the mistletoe, he leans in closely as he takes your chin in his hand. Head tilted up slightly by his touch, your lips part. He leans closer, hovering above your mouth while his eyes study the shape of it. 

His optics close as his mouth claims yours. You follow into the sweet darkness, your head tilting back at his firm but rich affection. He pushes and pulls against you as steady as the tide. His other hand remains on your hip, stroking you softly underneath the layer of your coat.

When he breaks the kiss with reverence, you breathe out mist. Floating upon a hazy, sweet cloud, you drift between their celestial bodies as they cuddle you close under the mistletoe. 

“Merry Christmas,” they whisper to you, one voice in each ear.

You hum a happy sound.

“Merry Christmas.”

[zackprincebooks]

Is it cheating to recommend my own book?

I'm writing a book on Ream called Godhunt! Here you'll find:

-Fucked up deer -Quasi-historical settings -Tea parties -Fancy lesbians -Baking (the bread kind) -Trans and nonbinary characters -Jealous forest gods -Small town mystery

There is no god in the forest. There’s nothing in there but animals and trees. Sometimes there is a deer, which is sometimes a wolf, and sometimes a fox. But there’s no god. The town of Foxton is everything a town should be: devout, proper, and orderly. Everyone goes to morning service to hear Speaker Burton deliver the word of the Light Above, and then the ladies go to brunch to discuss town news. Lucy Keating tries to fit in, but living under Mother’s disdainful gaze after Grandpa Sandy’s death, she doesn’t feel like she’s living. After two men are killed by wolves on the night of the Flower Ball, fear and faith rattle the community. There is something in the forest hunting the people of Foxton, but it can’t be a god. It must be a monster–or are the people turning into monsters? What is Lucy turning into?

It's free to read and the first four chapters are available to the public! (Chapter five is oncoming.) After chapter five, chapters will be available to followers only and you will need a Ream account (which is free) to read the rest. Once Godhunt is finished, all chapters will be made public!

HELLO BOOK FRIENDS OF TUMBLR!

i have come searching for good queer fiction (mainly fantasy) books. after reading so many uh,,, NOT THE GREATEST ones, i need some good ones to get me back into reading! :D

the queer elements (such as a romance) do not have to be central to the plot. :> also i am searching for mainly mlm romances. if one of the characters is trans, EXTRA BONUS! ♡

fantasy with like magic and dragons is my favourite, but im okay with things like sci-fi or modern age with fantasy elements! another exception is queer books set in the past. :}

for reference, my favourite books of all time are the six of crows books!

HELP ME PLEASE!! 🥺

sorry for the excessive tags and text, i really want new books haha

[zackprincebooks]

Heads Up, Seven Up!

Tagged by the lovely @the-golden-comet!

Here's a peek at Godhunt, Chapter 6: Offer (which should be out this weekend!

They are patient with her, smiling with their head tilted to the side. Lucy could spend the rest of the night, the rest of her life watching their beautiful face with their thin lips and long nose that she wants to kiss. Maybe that’s what she should ask for; the privilege to kiss the Holly-Crowned One and die happily immediately after.  “Are you waiting for me?” The sound of their throaty voice makes Lucy’s knees buckle.  Her throat unsticks itself in time to say, “I think I have been waiting for you my entire life.” Their laugh is the rustling of leaves in the hot summer wind.

Open for any takers! Tag list below:

@katenewmanwrites @wyked-ao3 @burntblanc @lorifragolina

@nczaversnick @glasshouses-and-stones @thatuselesshuman @mushroommanchanterelle

@phoenixofthegreenwood @ilovevewritingfanfic @jev-urisk @lizurich

@villain-lover7899 @rivenantiqnerd

Interact with this post if you'd like to be added to or removed from the tagging list!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Enemies (Part Four) (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Takes place during episode 9

Word Count: 1,820

Warning: Smut

Part One Part Two Part Three

The arms around her kept her safe. Nobody and no thought could hurt her when she was in these arms. A savior or even an angel that was sent to protect her from harm's way. The arms that were keeping her safe through the night belong to Rafe Cameron. 

Her eyes opened and she groaned as her body ached of sweet release and pain. She sighed and snuggled back into the arms of Rafe. “Rafe.” She tried to say but her voice was scratchy thanks to him. He chuckled and kissed the back of her head.

She turned in his arms and faced him with a glare. “Pretty awesome way to lose your voice.” He states with a cocky smirk. “Screaming my name as I fuck you over and over again.” He teased knowing her body wasn’t up for it. “You’re a dick.” She managed out but there was a playfulness to her tone. She leaned over and kissed him with a smile on her face. 

The Pogues hadn’t heard from her in a few days. They didn’t even see her run and they didn’t even know that she was with Rafe. But as much as they loved her they were glad she was not there with them. Running from the cops.

JJ was okay but both him and Pope were in big trouble. Sarah wanted to tell her the big secret but hoped that she was okay. Y/N had no idea that her friends were in danger while she fucked the enemy. 

Hollis was dead and Rafe was pacing around the living room. Y/N on the couch watching him. “It wasn’t JJ.” Rafe said like he for sure knew. “It was Groff and he took my money.” Y/N knew that it wasn’t JJ but the Groff thing kind of surprised her.

Rafe told her everything about Hollis and Groff. “Okay so we should go tell the police.” She told him. “Yeah but first let’s take a walk.” He says and she smiles. 

“I can’t believe JJ did that.” Y/N whispered. Rafe grabbed her hand and she didn’t pull away. She stared at the ground as they walked when Rafe noticed the cops. “Quick over here.” She gasped as she saw her friends trying to steal a boat. “Rafe.” She whispered. They ducked down and could hear them talk. “They know where Groff is.” She whispered. “Don’t make it known you're here.” He warns her as the cops try to arrest them. She smiled as she saw them take their boat. Her friends were dumbasses but she loved them. 

“So you’ll take us to look for the treasure?” She asked with hope in her eyes. “I want my money but if that’s what it takes then yes.” He plays with the ring he has in his pocket that was his moms. He knew it was too soon so he was gonna take it with them just in case. “I’ll get the cops off their back and I’ll take you guys to wherever Groff is at.” He promises. She kisses him as a thank you and puts her hope and faith into him. He pulls away from the kiss, “Do you know where they are hiding?” 

Shoupe arrives before Rafe and Y/N do and he’s about to take away JJ and Pope. They had no other end and no saving or plan at this point. Sarah gasps as she sees Y/N and her brother? “Y/N?” She asks in shock and everyone turns to see her and Rafe.

  Her nerves about what they would think did not hit until they noticed her. She knew of Rafe’s plan but they did not. “I can take them to get Groff.” Everyone besides Y/N was shocked at his words. He had convinced Shoupe to let them go and find Groff. After Shoupe had left the others turned to Y/N, “So that’s where you were?” Kie asked.

Y/N’s face was red, this wasn’t how she wanted them to find out. “Look I was keeping her safe while you guys were out being criminals.” He put an arm around Y/N who didn’t push him away. “Look we can talk about this later we got a crown to find.” John B said. 

The boat was huge and nothing like she’s ever stayed on. All of the Pogues were happy that this was happening but felt uneasy around Rafe. “I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t trust him. We don’t trust him.” JJ said. “He got us this boat and is taking us to find the treasure. He doesn’t want it, He wants the money Groff took from him.” She exclaims. Rafe could hear them and he smiled at her words.

“Y/N do you actually believe that?” John B asked her. Sure Rafe wasn’t such a good person but after everything with JJ and Groff it wasn’t unbelievable that he would do something like that. “Yes. Groff is shitty.” “That doesn’t mean that Rafe isn’t lying.” She sighs. “Then go talk to him.” She told the group. “Except you.” She said to JJ who looked at her in disbelief. “I agree with her on that one.” Kie said. Everyone besides JJ goes to Rafe who was stirring the boat.

“Rafe.” Y/N said his name and he turned to find everyone with her. She walked up to him and let John B talk. Peace was never an option with JJ who knocked Rafe out. “JJ!” Y/N yelled at him. She got on the ground to check on him. “I would have done it if he didn’t.” Pope said, causing Y/N to glare. “I’m sorry Y/N but we don’t trust your boyfriend.” “He doesn’t want the crown! He wants the money that Groff took from him!” She yelled at her friends. “Why don’t you believe me?” “It’s not you, we don’t believe it’s him.” 

Rafe woke up and was tied up. Sarah decided to bring him the food. “They don’t trust you, Rafe. Only Y/N does.” “I want to see her.” He tells her. “She won’t untie you.” Though Y/N really wanted to. “Let me see her.” He said, ignoring her. Sarah sighs and gets Y/N.

Y/N walks in the room and sits by him. “I want to let you go but they would kill me or you might kill them.” He chuckled at her words. “I told you I wanted to be a better person. You’re making that easy but they are making that hard.” She lays her head on his shoulder and sighs, “I wish that they could see that you’re telling the truth.”

Though she knew that they had no right too. He did awful things to them so why would they? Sarah had said that to him and it stuck in his mind. Y/N stayed down there with him until she was hungry, she told him that she would be back later and before he could protest, she was gone. 

“Why him?” Kie asked as she and Sarah ate with Y/N. “There is so much I never told you guys.” She told them everything. How Rafe approached her at a party and would never leave her alone. How he would constantly follow her even when she tried to push him away. How he asked her to be with him multiple times. How he was there for her.

“Wow.” Kie said and Sarah gave her a little smile. “Depending on how this goes. I might give you my blessing.” They all laugh. “So wait, are you guys together?” Kie asked. Truth be told they never put a label on it but it seemed as if they were. “Well yeah. I would take what’s going on between us like that.” She shrugged. 

“So I was thinking that since you’re tied up and you can’t do anything I will do this.” He gasps as she unzips his pants. “You’re being serious right now?” He asked. She didn’t respond and pulled out his dick, which was very hard. She looks up at him, “You’re asking me that? I’m not the one who’s hard as a rock.” She teases and runs her thumb over the tip.

He sucks in a deep breath as her hand moves up and down his dick. She watches him as he bites his lip to keep from moaning. The others did not need to know what was going on. Her hand moves faster and he lets out a little whimper, “shit.” She smirks and lowers her head until his tip was near her mouth.

Her hand slowing down. He thrusts his hips up and she sits up again, “Rafe you aren’t in any position to call the shots.” She teases and he huffs. “Come on Y/N.” He begs. Her hand stops moving and Rafe almost whines. “I have THE Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron whining for me to suck his cock.” She says and lays down so that she is on her stomach. Her hands placed on his thighs as licks up his dick. He sighs in pleasure at the feeling.

She smirks and takes the tip in her mouth. Her tongue ran along it. He closed his eyes and let out a soft moan as she finally gave him what he wanted. His dick was finally in her mouth as she gave him the craziest blowjob of his life. She hummed on him causing the vibration to shoot straight up his body.

Oh how he wished that he could run his hands through her hair. He was moaning like he was in heat as his high was approaching. “Fuck Y/N. I’m close!” He moaned out. She didn’t stop until he was cumming down her throat. She pulled off of him and swallowed every drop he gave her. She wiped her mouth and sighed. “That was kinky” She said and he laughed.

“That was hot.” He said and she leaned in and kissed him. But before their lips could touch the boat started going crazy. “What the hell?” He said. She went to get up and check but fell down and the red alert went off. “I have to get you free.” She said and tried standing again. She gripped the wall for support and went out the door.

“Kie hand me a knife.” Kie looked for one in the drawers and gave it to her. Y/N got back to Rafe and cut him loose. They made their way out of there and to the others. She heard John B yelling and ran out to where he was, Rafe following her. “Sarah.” Rafe yelled and tears built up in Y/N’s eyes. She saw JJ throw a raft in the water and tell Sarah he was coming. “JJ it’s too dangerous.” Y/N yells at him but he jumps in the water. Y/N watches as the waves cover her friends and she lets out a sob. Rafe pulls her to his chest as she starts screaming and crying all over again. 

[thelien-art]

Fëanáro, Nerdanel & Telperinquar

Latest portraits

Sons of Fëanáro - Children of Ñolofinwë - Ñolofinwë, Anairë & Grandchildren - Children of Arafinwë

HC:

Feanor: Feanor dresses in pale colors like Miriel. I like to think Miriel dresses in light colors, not necessarily white. I don´t think he adorns himself with a lot of jewelry, just enough for him to be stylish, but not more, as he cares more about making things for those he cares for than himself, and if it is for himself, he would rather focus on something more practical, like lamps and machines.

Nerdanel: I have a surprising lot of thoughts about Nerdanel, one of them being that she´s a very loud Feanorian stan, although there´s a lot she thinks is plainly stupid she still supports her husband(ex??) and most of his ideals fierily. I think she dresses much more plainly than other Noldor, but will not necessarily turn down the option to adorn herself in jewelry. While I think she eagerly awaited her crowning, I don´t think it ever came, and she therefore never really had the possibility to wear a crown (not circlet she could still wear circles) as Finarfin was crowned when his brothers left. I don´t think that married in, in the Noldor royal house, could wear crowns before they themself was crowned kings/queen, even if it was just over a smaller piece of land. This left her to never wear a circlet as she was waiting to be crowned queen which never happened, meaning she never wore something on her head. She still wore royal braids and such, as that was accepted. All this leads her to be called Ríantaú by those who are against Feanor**. * She ends up going to Formenos and taking in all the Feanorian loyalties over the ages, becoming a queen at the end although never crowned, and known as a bitter woman because of her sons' departure.

Celebrimbor: I don´t read Celebrimbor as a naive person, rather I read him as someone who bears a lot of guilt, and in some cases let it control him, even if he was not the one at fault, this makes it easier for him to welcome everyone when the second age begins, after all evil was destroyed right? That was what the Valar said, and it does harm to everyone to throw someone out in the wilderness. I do believe he was aware that Annatar was a Maia of Morgoth, I also believe that while he didn´t think Annatar was all good, he believed in himself that he could make Annatar a better person. When Celebrimbor is reborn he ends up seeking out Nerdnal, who welcomes him in her city with open arms where he stays most of his time. On jewelry, I was helped by a lot of people (@lulukeskywalker pointed out that Eregion was named after the hollie trees it´s said to have) with the holly HC some might have heard about him, and it comes from that Eregion had a lot of hollie trees, which is a very sweet note professor, thank you for that, so I, of course, had to give him some holly themed jewelry. On a last note of jewelry, I tried to give him something between art nouveau and brutalism, to give him his own style. - note Celebrimbor follows second age fashion, therefor having his braids at the back instead of both at the front and back. - note Celebrimbor´s circlet is very intentionally inspired by Maglor´s.

Other HC:

I like to think that both Thingol and Finwe ruled their land as Empires, meaning that there were smaller kings and queens under their rule, while the rest, like Owlë and Ingwë ruled as only kings. I think it makes most sense with Thingol but I also like it with Finwe as his family was so big so it would make sense. - examples would be the roman empire and Scandinavia around year 0 to year 500 where the really where no kingdoms as we see them today but many small kings and later one king over the small kings. *

**Ríanta = To crown/Coronate: Quenya - Ú = Without/Destitute of: Quenya - Ríantaú = Without crown/Crownless: Quenya

Grey, mostly a pale grey close to white, is the mourning color for the Eldar´s as it´s associated with Nienna.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

2023's Fat Bear Week runs from October 4th to 10th (with no voting on Sunday the 8th). The Junior voting opens in 15 minutes.

If you do nothing else for me, I am begging everyone to at least consider not voting for 747 again this year (if he's on the bracket). He's won twice. We all know he's the best (i.e. fatter in the spring than some bears are at the end of the summer). It's time for a new bear to take the crown.

at the risk of setting you off, what *is* fat bear week? is it an american thing?

FAT BEAR WEEK

IS AN EDUCATIONAL AND COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT INITIATIVE

ORGANIZED BY KATMAI NATIONAL PARK & PRESERVE (Alaska, USA)

AND HOSTED THROUGH EXPLORE.ORG (which also hosts, among other things, The Bear Cams [solar-powered, run roughly from mid-June to mid-October])

and I love it with my whole being.

Fat Bear Week started as a single-day event in 2014 to highlight the life cycles of brown bears (specifically the bears of Brooks River at Katmai) and to celebrate their efforts to bulk up in preparation for winter hibernation. In addition to the bears, the staff at the park use the event to highlight various elements of the park's ecology; they're especially fond of talking about the salmon.

Fan-favorite Otis won the first event, which in the following year was expanded into a week-long tournament. He has claimed the Fat Bear title three other times, including last year. Other winners include the aptly-numbered 747 and my beloved mama bear Holly (who won in 2019, which was when I became passingly familiar with the event).

More recently, Fat Bear Week grew to include a mini-tournament called Fat Bear Jr., where a small bracket of cubs and yearlings go head-to-head to decide which of their number will be added to the main event.

Voting is hosted, as I said, through Explore.org, and is a really simple process (though if you're opposed to entering your email, you won't like it, because that's how they verify votes). It's so simple, I've succeeded in bullying several of my friends into participating. And yes, I weight their choices in my favor because I play dirty and I have a personal, extremely petty vendetta against 747.

While there are, I believe, several hundred bears at the park, the number that are identified and highlighted through this event and longtime viewers of the Bear Cams is relatively small. Some bears receive nicknames in addition to their numerical designation, but nicknames are generally discouraged because the park wants guests and fans to remember that these are animals and need to be respected and treated as such. (If you want to get lost down a delightful rabbit hole of "harmless things people get obsessed about", the bear cams have their own wiki with detailed histories of identified bears.)

If you want to join, the event kicks off IN A WEEK with an announcement of the Fat Bear Jr. bracket next Monday, September 26th. The Fat Bear Jr. voting runs September 29th and 30th. The full bracket is announced on Monday, October 3rd, and Fat Bear Week itself runs from October 5th to 10th.

The most confusing aspect of this entire glorious event is the criteria that determines the winner. From Katmai:

From casual observation, it seems like anyone who invests attention in the Katmai bears outside of this event tends to either vote for whichever bears have the most stunning transformations (typically my approach); or whichever bear is their favorite, regardless of its progress over the summer. People who only know about these bears through the event tend to go for “THIS BEAR IS THE BIGGEST”. All methods of judgment are valid, and that’s what makes it fun.

Every bear in the bracket gets a before-and-after photo to help people make their decisions. For an idea of why Otis won last year (aside from being a fan favorite), check out his transformation:

(480 is his numerical designation.) Otis didn’t show up to the river until mid-July. He’s already quite old (estimated at 26), so everyone had started to think he had died during the winter. He did not, and he went on to beat out 747 and claim his fourth crown.

I’ve about worn out my enthusiasm for the moment, so I'll close with: I have no idea if this is an American thing but I certainly hope not. Everyone needs the joy of voting for fat bears.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Y'know how Cacao has a son, you remember dark Choco right? Y'know how Vanilla got custard the II right? And then there's holly with royalberry and Golden Cheese with fettuccine and White Lily with.... Gigngerbrav-

What the beasts think?

Could be yandere, could be their already a thing, some other stuff idgf i must hear your words on this

Been wanting to try to answer this one since I saw it haha. Let's go both routes I've got for these bozos, Reformed Beasts and Yandere Beasts

Reformed Shadow Milk: I want to imagine that, once upon a time, Shadow was an actual people person and was genuinely fond of children. After he reforms, he regains that old fondness, and it extends to Custard III (perhaps more than all other kids, just because he's close to Vanilla). Such a cute, silly boy, with his silly crown and his silly dreams (not that he wants the kid to feel bad for wanting to be a king, it's just... Kid doesn't seem to understand what a king actually is, you know? It's funny, and a bit sad... But Vani is there and now so is Shadow, so it'll probably be fine). He keeps calling Custard his son/nephew/grandson/apprentice/heir (he keeps thinking of new titles all the time, all tongue-in-cheek) and cooing over him... in a not-so-different manner than how he likes to fuss over Vani lol

Yandere Shadow Milk: Ohhhhh this tiny little creature. This bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, ignorant little WEAKLING. None can take Pure Vanilla's place in ANY capacity, including leadership; though he might be a soft-hearted fool, Vanilla is nevertheless a capable king, and Shadow knows this - and he deeply, violently resents the thought of anyone usurping him, even if that throne no longer truly exists anymore. The thought of a small child wanting to be a king? To be like his Silly-Vanilly? Foolishness - and Shadow only tolerates foolishness if it occurs on HIS timetable and HIS terms. But it's fine... This child shall pay for his hubris eventually. Vani means so much to the boy, and vice versa... Perhaps Shadow can use this to his advantage. Perhaps he can breathe a whisper or two into his ear. Leave a footstep or two behind in his dreams. Tie a string to him somewhere, see if he notices - and after he doesn't, which Shadow knows he won't, he'll tie another. And another, and another. Until Shadow can greet the world with his brand new puppet. Poor little orphan boy, nowhere to go and no one to care about him... Stupid, arrogant, foolish little boy, who thinks he can rule the world and that he can ever be a fraction of who Vani is and was. He shall atone for his sins. For his pride, for that empty head, for that hideous little costume (he would try to stitch together such a haphazard monstrosity in the face of Shadow's own superior craftsmanship? He would try to don his Silly-Vanilly's face this way?!)... For being dear to Pure Vanilla at all, because the only person who deserved to exist in Vanilla's world is Shadow Milk himself.

Reformed Eternal Sugar: Now that she has found a place in the world and by Hollyberry's side, Sugar has likewise found good company in those surrounding Hollyberry herself - including and especially her dear son. Such a sweet man; so much like his mother, inside and out, albeit without the same energy... but that was alright. Royalberry's passion simply manifests in a different manner, one more similar to Sugar's own. Calmer, quieter, but no less sweet and sincere. Sugar almost acts as a motherly figure to him herself, sometimes... He doesn't mind, though. They get along quite well. She only hopes that whatever wisdom she can offer in service of the kingdom is actually worthwhile.

Yandere Eternal Sugar: Hm... Perhaps she would like him more if he was HER son. If he'd come from her rightful union with her dear Hollyberry. But he didn't, so she doesn't. Shame, really; he's quite adorable. So much like his mother... but not like her at all, at the same time. He lacked her drive, her spirit. Perhaps that was for the best; Sugar cared nothing for drive or spirit anymore, save for that fire that burned within her dear Hollyberry that awakened what was long-dormant within her... that strange, ethereal feeling that she dared to call happiness. And that lack of drive would make Sugar's plans all the easier... He's a weak, silly man who worries much and often. She has experience with people like that. She'll put him down for a nice nap, let him dream happy dreams where he can pretend he's a worthy king and son. Then she can right the wrong of his and the entire kingdom's existence and have Hollyberry to herself. Hollyberry could even join her in a special dream she'd gladly make up just for the two of them, where they have their own child, a better one than this fool she already wasted time loving and raising...

Reformed Mystic Flour: In all honesty, Flour actually harbors a bit of admiration for Dark Choco, for the path he once walked wasn't so different from hers... and he, like she eventually did, found the strength and wisdom to turn back. She's had a good few conversations with him about it all; about the nature of redemption and atonement, and how one answers to evil when it calls for your soul. Dark Choco can't help but understand and relate to Flour, always lamenting his own fall to darkness and betrayal of those he meant to protect and serve. Lots of commiserating between them, I'd say. Outright wallowing, at certain points lol. But it's this understanding between them that actually helps Flour along her journey to redemption, arguably more so than what others offer her. She cares for and respects Dark Choco, and vice versa. She can see so much of Dark Cacao in him... whatever mistakes Cacao made, he nevertheless raised a fine young man, even after making mistakes of his own. It only proves to her that Cacao really is the rightful owner of the Soul Jam after all...

Yandere Mystic Flour: ...What a strange feeling this man gives her. So much like Cacao. Too much so, in some places... yet, unlike his father (and, more importantly, exactly like her), he strayed from the path and ultimately stumbled and fell into the same abyss as she and so many others. Flour's denial of her attachment to Dark Cacao likewise extends to those around him, his son more than all the others - in fact, one might be tempted to say that her denial of having any thoughts or feelings regarding Dark Choco is stronger than what she has regarding Dark Cacao. The reason behind this goes as such: with how similar to Cacao he is, and with his fall from grace... it almost makes Flour hope believe ponder whether or not Cacao could fall from grace, as well. If Cacao could follow in his son's footsteps, as his son once tried so hard to follow in his. Dark Choco worsens her sickness, feeds her delusions, albeit indirectly. If he can fall - if he can become a beast - then Cacao can, too. And if he did, then perhaps she... they... No. No, no, not this. Not this nonsense... Dark Choco angers her worse than anyone else in Dark Cacao's life, because he inadvertently offers her this fantasy of Cacao turning out just like her, thus increasing her chances of having him. But... she doesn't want him. She doesn't want anyone or anything. She's not supposed to. Damn it, even things and people tangentially related to Cacao make her worse...

Reformed Burning Spice: Not unlike Shadow Milk, Burning Spice also once liked kids. He liked being seen and admired as a larger-than-life figure, figuratively and literally. He liked that he was "cool", he liked that he could be a big, strong protector to them. It's... difficult for him to lean back into this sentiment again. When you're a mass-murdering tyrant for so long, you tend to lose your people skills (it's something he always envied Shadow Milk for; even as a Beast, he knew how to hold sway over others with AND without violence. That envy was small and buried deep, but it existed nevertheless). And... many of his victims were children. Spice once killed wantonly, indiscriminately. He's beheaded children, cleaved them in two. Left them in pieces, scattered across the earth. The weakest, most vulnerable members of society... when he remembers how dishonorable and pathetic it is to target children, it deals quite the psychological blow. So he's quite awkward and uncomfortable around them while he's working through his redemption; they inspire a particular guilt and remorse in him that adults don't. Golden Cheese keeps pushing him, though, and brought Fettuccine around him most often as a sort of "practice". Fettuccine is calm, sweet and trusting; an "easier" child than most. Plus... she's a mummy. She, too, perished during the Dark Flour War. She's already endured pain, she's already faced death. There's nothing Spice can do that hasn't already been done to the poor girl. And Golden tries to remind him that she doesn't know him; they're complete strangers from different times and places. This is as fresh of a start as you can have with a person. So Spice is made to be an unwilling babysitter for a while... until he does eventually come around and warm up to the girl. And after he overcomes his reservations with Fettuccine, he goes on to overcome those he has with children in general. A series of baby steps that led him down the path of appreciating other people again, and he's grateful this little mummy girl helped him along

Yandere Burning Spice: Pfft. A mummy, huh? Amusing. Are his little bird's grief and desperation so great that it's infected the corpses of her oh so precious subjects? And one actually felt compelled to crawl out of her casket because of them, how charming. Burning Spice HATES Fettuccine. He hates ALL of the Golden Cheese Kingdom's citizens. He hates every single person, every single living organism that Golden Cheese ever paid an ounce of attention to besides himself. All the time and effort, all the blood and sweat and tears his little bird wasted on her oh so precious treasures - all of which should've been spent on HIM. Devoted to HIM. Nothing matters, no one matters, destruction is the only way. He will wipe EVERYTHING she ever held dear off the face of the earth, including Fettuccine. ESPECIALLY Fettuccine. This tiny, weak little worm that wiggled out of the dirt, trying desperately to crawl towards his little bird, craving her presence, her radiance. No. Golden Cheese's radiance is for Burning Spice alone. He can, he will, he MUST maim and dismember this pathetic child as soon as possible; the quicker he separates Golden Cheese from who and what she loves, the better. The quicker he can have her to himself. They can fight, they can dance, they can touch and taste each other, all without her treasures getting in their way. The world is theirs to do with as they please, and together, they shall wreak glorious havoc. And... well... if she gets upset... he can fix it. She likes children, he knows that. He can give her some. Such is his devotion to his other half that he'll briefly betray his nature and create something with her, for her. As many as she wants. As many times as she wants. Their children are the only children he'll ever give a damn about. And so help him, they'll be the only children that SHE gives a damn about, because he's going to slaughter all the other ones, STARTING WITH FETTUCCINE!

Reformed Silent Salt: Same deal as Spice tbh, only x1000. Salt struggles to be around anyone, let alone children, such is his soul-crushing guilt and shame. White Lily is the only one he's able to spend time with for a very long time; she has to coax him into coming into others' line of sight, and it doesn't work half the time. She ends up bringing people to him instead of bringing him to people - and, believing his demeanor might help soften him, she brings Gingerbrave and co. What an... unusually upbeat and forgiving boy, that Gingerbrave is. Lily acts as Salt's translator (I headcanon Salt as being mute and using sign + body language to communicate with people) as well as... a security blanket of sorts, because if she wasn't there, then Salt wouldn't be, either. But she's insistent, and so is Gingerbrave, and so are his friends. It's... strange, to have people be happy to see him again (I'll explain in a separate post, but I have some headcanons regarding Salt's old life and upbringing that basically amount to "I try to make myself useful so people think I have worth"). But it's nice. Nice enough that... he eventually lets more people near him. And eventually, he lets Lily and these kids lead him back to civilization, where he doesn't need to be alone with himself and his guilt anymore...

Yandere Silent Salt: Sigh... White Lily... His White Lily... All Silent Salt really wants is to make her happy. To see her pretty smile. For her to stop being so... sad. So somber. But that happiness needs to come from him. It NEEDS to. He tries so hard to pretend... He tries to be patient, he tries to let her focus on others for only a moment. But it never lasts. She's HIS White Lily. She moves too far away from him, she speaks too many words to someone else, she spends too much time in another's company- and he snaps. And that doesn't change with children, including Gingerbrave. ESPECIALLY Gingerbrave. That boy doesn't... suit her. Her countenance, her demeanor. He's too loud. Too annoying. Too simple. Silent Salt wants him to go away. He wants EVERYONE to go away, really, but Gingerbrave can go ahead first. Leave him and his White Lily to their peace. He tries so hard to pretend to be unbothered, Salt really does. But every passing moment, every ticking of the clock, every sound of that insipid boy's shrill voice and laughter reaching his ears (and all but drilling into his White Lily's, as he knows it must be)... He stands by in the shadows, waiting, waiting to take her back, his grip on his sword only tightening further and further...

[theneverfadinglands]

Heraldic devices; Fëanorions

Maedhros: It was quite a challenge to design Maedhros' device. He is the heir and therefore it must show, but it also have to contain his personality. Which I always interpreted as more elegant and simple, neat. I wanted to incorporate the motif of rose. Since I connect Maedhros (and Nerdanel) to roses. I wanted to incorporate both the star of Fëanor and rose of Nerdanel.

I. the first picture shows the device of Maitimo as he used in Valinor

II. Maedhros after Fëanor's death, high king of the Noldor in Beleriand. Used briefly of course. I believe it was designed by Maglor and he used it during Maedhros captivity. Maglor was not thrilled to be a king and so I can imagine he would use Maedhros' a lot. It has 16 points, just as Finwë's heraldic device.

III. Maedhros after his abdication, lord of Himring.. a lot of point for a lord, right? Fingolfin had 8 as well.

I. Makalaurë, I remember holly leaves were mentioned in Return to Aman (written by @cycas ). Since then they stuck in my head as Maglor's heraldic device. Of course they are golden. Picking themes for Maglor was not hard at all. The red circles are supposed to signify the berries of holly.

II. Maglor after Maedhros' capture. I am not sure if he was crowned the high king of the Noldor or not. He is not listed anywhere as one, it seems to me he managed to escape the kingship. After Maedhros' rescue, the golden circle was reduced in size as to not touch the sides. Maglor used this device in Beleriand and never used the Valinorean one again.

Celegorm, I was a little unsure what to choose, but it have not took me a long time to pick silver pine cone. I could not find any suitable animal-related theme, everything looked wuite ridiculous. I suppose even this look a little ridiculous. I was also unsure if I should go all the way and use the green or pick someting more inline with his siblings. However, Celegorm is odd one in the group really. He is Fëanor's third son and still deserve distinct design, not to be confused with any other. 4 points obviously, his device follows the conventional rules.

Caranthir, oh Caranthir, I always have a problem with him. Caranthir is the one I do not know much about. I do not have headcanons about him, I just do not know. I could not pick anything personal for him and there are not informations about him. We know Celegorm, Amrod and Amras were hunters, Maedhros is the heir, Maglor is golden and musician, who is Caranthir? He is known for his temper, the dark Finwë.

I chose dark moody colours and many many stars. Instead of one central star he has 7 of them. His device is wuite formal. Of course the reason is that I did not know what to do with him. Yet what is the in-story reason? Maybe he used to have different device in Valinor, but began to use this one in Beleriand. He must have some very good reason to slap so many stars in. Maybe because he managed the trade, he used this neutral, formal and very "Fëanor's son" screaming device?

I think that his Valinorean device might have some moths. Moths are suitable dark and moody.

Curufin, it was not hard to design. I wanted his device to be similar to Fëanor's, yet it shall not outshine Maedhros. Technically the device break rules as there are 8 sides touching, but Curufin was never a king. I think the yellow can be ignored as a "point." After all the same motif is featured in Maedhros'. I wanted to reapeat the Maedhros theme, because although he is the oldest, Curufin is most similar to his father.

For Curufin I had chosen gems as symbols. I think diamnods are very fitting for him. I had it on my mind the entire time from the beginning. The question was only where I am going to place them. I think the inspiration by Fëanor is also clear. I am not sure how Curufin felt about it later... he is always Atarinkë.

I have to do Celebrimbor too, but I think he had more than one device.

Amrod and Amras, I went a little wild with them. They are the youngest and therefore can have some fun. As such I chose more creative devices. Red maple for Amrod (because aesthetic, not really for the meaning) and oak for Amras. Oak is in many cultures regarded as the kingly tree. I think the devices are both similar enough and different enough to denote their relationship as twins while maintaining separate identities. Honestly Amros' device and Maglor's kingly Beleriand device are my favorites.

I would like to do Fingolfinwean and Finarfinwean devices as well, but I am not sure I'll have enough creativity in me.