#then I’m taking the three days of the actual weekend to relax

[longlivetv]

Made an extra long weekend out of Labor Day to try to get my shit together and re-set before work busy season and I am proud to say I have already done all of the dusting and vacuuming - including the stuff I sometimes skip like vacuuming under the couch cushions, dusting behind shit on my bookshelves, and dusting the ceiling fans, have cleaner sitting in the oven waiting for it to be wiped out, and cleaned the back splash in the kitchen.

Yesterday I deep cleaned the bathroom (I was in there for like 2.5 hours…that kind of deep clean) and washed all my bedding. After brunch the plan is to mop, finish cleaning the oven and stove top, clean kitchen counters and fridge shelves, and then do a closet clean out (yes the closet clean out is the reward, I’ve actually been kind of looking forward to it, lmao)

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[fastandcarlos]

Family Affair ~ Max Verstappen

Summary: it’s a family affair at the singapore grand prix as the entire verstappen family come to cheer max on

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

ynusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 103,382 others

ynusername: I’ll give you three guesses as to where we’re off to 🏎️

tagged: maxverstappen1

28,492 comments

maxverstappen1: well aren’t I just the luckiest dad/husband in the world 🩷

username1: we love when the verstappens all show up

username2: I can’t deal with how cute you all are

charles_leclerc: yesssssss!! leo can’t wait for all the pup cuddles this weekend

ynusername: nvm the kids, all the cuddles will come from me

danielricciardo: it’s been too long, can’t wait for the fam to reunite

maxverstappen1: @/danielricciardo you do know you’re not actually family…don’t you?

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 can you stop ruining my dreams please and thank you

redbullracing: we’re preparing ourselves for all the chaos 🤯

username3: watch max be exhausted before even getting in the car dealing with the kids and y/n

username4: cannot wait for the verstappen spam all weekend 😍

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 2,291,202 others

maxverstappen1: project verstappen junior is well underway, checkout y/s/n learning the ropes during practice this morning 🏁

72,291 comments

schecoperez: when I’m next in need of a new engineer I’ll be sure to give y/s/n a call!

ynusername: @/schechoperez he would absolutely love to work for uncle checo ❤️

username4: just when we all thought these kids could not get any cuter, max posts this

username5: it’s the baby uniform for me 😅

oscarpiastri: y/s/n already looks like he does a better job than anyone at mclaren

mclaren: @/oscarpiastri we’ll pretend we didn’t hear that

ynusername: I’m never gonna be able to escape f1 am I??

username6: max must be the proudest parent seeing his son so in love with what he does

pierregasly: little guy is looking good in blue max!!

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redbullracing just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername and 492,971 others

redbullracing: when all the verstappens are wearing blue, it only means one thing 🏆🏁

tagged: maxverstappen1 and ynusername

28,491 comments

maxverstappen1: another big push this weekend team, with my favourite mascots I’m sure p1 has my name all over it

username7: petition for team verstappen to come and cheerlead for me instead

username8: asking for a friend…can your ovaries burst just from a photo?

ynusername: team max! (and @/schechoperez 🎉)

username9: if anyone was wondering where all the good genes went…look no further

username10: pls tell me that is max’s helmet that y/d/n is wearing, it’s drowning her 😭

ynusername: @/username10 don’t worry, it is, she insists on trying it on when max finishes it, the stench is gross

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername excuse me, I always smell a million dollars

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by redbullracing, alex_albon and 3,032,583 others

maxverstappen1: on pole for tomorrow, job done for another day, now to rest up and relax for tomorrow. not sure how possible that will be with the kids, the pink bow was a new low 🥺🩷

68,302 comments

estebanocon: mate the bow should stay…really brings out the colour in your eyes

georgerussell63: sorry max, I’m never going to be able to take you seriously again

ynusername: damn love, y/d/n really has got you wrapped around her little finger 😂

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername what can I say? she really is a daddy’s girl 😊

username11: look at his smile, that’s a true proud dad smile going on there

username12: I swear max you have never looked better 😍

carlossainz55: almost at smooth operator level there max!!

maxverstappen1: @/carlossainz55 from you sir I will take that as a complete

pierregasly: that reminds me, I really must update your photo contact on my phone

fernandoalo_oficial: you lose all street cred the moment you become a dad I’m afraid max

username13: not all the drivers finally taking revenge and getting back at max 😂😂

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ynusername just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 729,492 others

ynusername: the three stages of race week with children. 1) run around with loads of energy. 2) begin to tire but remind yourself how cute your children are when they give you cute notes. 3) completely collapse after the race when you realise your children have tired you out before the lights even went out. sorry bub, but remember we love you dearly 🩷🩷🩷🩷

tagged: maxverstappen1

42,593 comments

maxverstappen1: I’ll be good as new for tomorrow, spending time with you guys will always be my priority. I love you all so much more 🥺❤️

landonorris: I remember the days when max used to write me cute notes like that 😭

danielricciardo: @/landonorris and the days when he used to play tag with me around the paddock too

landonorris: @/danielricciardo he’s abandoned us now for the kids…my heart is broken

yukitsunoda0511: that looks like a man trying to get five minutes peace from his kids on the right 😂

maxverstappen1: @/yukitsunoda0511 guilty as charged

username13: just when I think we possibly couldn’t get anymore cute dad max photos for the weekend, we end up getting more

username14: you just know that max absolutely dotes on his two angels

oscarpiastri: petition for the two of you to adopt me, I want to be part of all this fun too 🥺

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by ynusername, schecoperez and 3,382,503 others

maxverstappen1: singapore p1 🏁🎉 couldn’t have done it without my incredible team cheering me on, having them beside me constantly reminds me of the sacrifices they all make. y/n, y/s/n, y/d/n, you guys are the best. thanks for all the support team, now to soak up all the daddy cuddles before the next one 🔥

tagged: ynusername

194,328 comments

ynusername: words cannot begin to express how proud we are of you!! nights like this simply don’t get better my love 🤩

redbullracing: congratulations on a great week of racing max, enjoy the time with your family now

username15: poor y/d/n looks so exhausted, it must be hard work cheering for daddy

landonorris: are those daddy cuddles just from y/s/n and y/d/n????

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris what exactly are you implying?

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 🫢🫢🫢🫢

charles_leclerc: congrats on a great week max, an honour to share the podium with you again

lance_stroll: lovely to finally meet all the family my man, enjoy the rest and recovery with your little ones

username16: are we all just going to pretend like we don’t know what lando is hinting at back there?

username17: max screams daddy material…literally 😅

georgerussell63: we couldn’t not let you win this one…we just didn’t wanna upset the kids 😂

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ynusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and 629,402 others

ynusername: husband, father, grand prix winner, is there anything that this man can’t do? we are so proud of you max, every time I think you can’t achieve more, you go and prove me wrong. thank you for the best weekend with our little team ❤️🔥

tagged: maxverstappen1

42,402 comments

carlossainz55: he’s yet to beat me at fifa…that’s something he can’t do 😂

logansargeant: I swear you guys are the ultimate goals, if anyone asks, this is how I want my future to look!!

maxverstappen1: thank you for cheering me on, I hope you guys know that I do all of this for you 🥺

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 ofc we do, and once again you’ve reminded our children that hard work really does pay off

danielricciardo: I remember the days when he used to hug me like that 😭

ynusername: @/danielricciardo MOVE ON AND LET IT GO 😂😂😂

username18: he’s lucky to have someone as amazing as you in his corner y/n

username19: pls tell me this is the last post this weekend, my heart can’t take anymore adorableness 💔

landonorris: go team verstappen!! (I’m secretly rooting for you guys!)

redbullracing: remember y/n you’re always welcome in the paddock, we’ve loved having you, y/d/n and our future world champion y/s/n with us this weekend 😊

——

I hope you enjoyed this little smau, any feedback or requests would be gratefully received 🥺🥺🥺

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[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.” 

[girlokwhatever]

based on a request where reader meets kate’s family!

⊹ ࣪ ˖✩°｡🦦*ੈ✩‧₊˚-‘๑ meet the martins,,

kate martin x fem!reader

you were beyond nervous. today was the fateful day where you were meeting kate’s parents for the first time. you knew they’d be welcoming considering how amazing their daughter was, but you didn’t know if you’d be able to impress them enough.

kate asked you to be her girlfriend six months ago. the almost unbearable time before that where you two would flirt until your heads spun was about three months long. you considered yourself the luckiest person in the world to have kate, and vice-versa.

you and kate were about to leave university to spend the weekend in her hometown, lugging your bags into the back of her car. as soon as everything was ready she started the car and drove off, deciding now would be a good time to drop a bomb on you.

“so.. babe,”

“kate..”

“i jus’ wanna let you know my siblings are gonna be there too..”

“okay.. okay. that’s nice. it’s good actually. just knock it all out at once..”

kate smiled over in your direction but you didn’t see it, facing the window as you let out a deep breath. she knows you’re unbelievably nervous because the only person you’ll know there is her, but she knows everyone will love you.

you spend the rest of the car ride trying to relax. you try meditation, deep breathing exercises, and even sleep. your girlfriend says nothing, trying to let you cope with your nerves.

when kate pulls into her childhood home’s driveway you’re sleeping, head and hair pressed gently against the side of the seat. she gently grasps your shoulder and leans in to press a kiss behind your ear, whispering that you’ve both arrived. you wake with a startled expression, disbelief written across your face.

“what?! kate! why didn’t you wake me up earlier, i’m probably a mess right now!”

you’re not mad, just panicking. you try to press your hair back down into place and smooth out your sundress but your frantic attempt doesn’t help you much.

“baby you look amazing, i swear.”

you look at her, slightly pouting at the situation. she seizes the moment, taking the opportunity to press and kiss to your lips. some of your worry slips away with her silent reassurance, feeling more confident and accepting that whatever happens, happens.

suddenly you remember the flowers you bought for her mom, pulling away from your girlfriend to grab them from the backseat. kate said these were her favorites so of course you had to buy some.

“are you ready?”

you nod, feeling some of your anxiety resurfacing. you’re not sure why it was so nerve wracking for you. there have been times in the past when you met your partner’s parents and it never made you feel this way. maybe because kate is the best thing is the best thing that ever happened to you and you never want to lose her.

as soon as kate knocks the door swings open, revealing both of her parents. her mom is smiling wide at you and her dad is too, beer in hand. you don’t miss the loud thudding of steps from her siblings either, both of them greeting you with similar smiles.

“okay guys, you don’t have to stand and stare like robots.” she’s joking, pulling her mom and dad in for a hug all at once. her sister kennedy pulls you inside as she introduces herself but you’ve heard so much about her from kate you feel like you’ve known her all your life.

“everyone, this is my wonderful girlfriend, please don’t suffocate her while i go get our stuff from the car.”

“oh kate, i can help you-”

her mother touches your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks in your pursuit to follow kate. “trevor can help kate, you stay here. you’re our guest!”

kate rubs her hand on your back before she departs. she’s giving you this ‘just relax’ look, so you really try. it’s not difficult to think that this is where kate grew up, baby pictures and her warm vanilla scent lingers everywhere.

once you snap back to reality, kate’s mom is looking at you so genuinely and with so much certainty you feel as though this is already your family. you feel bad watching trevor leave but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, helping ease your conscious. this house feels so familiar to you, almost as if kate embodies this space she grew up in. loving, accepting, cherishing, and sweet.

“oh! i bought these for you. kate said they were your favorite.”

you hold the flowers in her direction, watching her face light up as if she hadn’t noticed them until now. you all drift to the kitchen as she thanks you, getting out a vase to set them in. she’s bubbly, smile wide and cheeks a perfect shade of pink you recognize from kate.

they’re all so welcoming to you, patting you on the back and squeezing your shoulders every so often. their aura exudes love and positivity, spreading into your bones and helping you sink into the moment. all your worry is left behind, pure excitement taking over at the prospect of the rest of your weekend here.

a few hours later you’re all sitting outside on the back patio. you’re in kate’s arms laying on the couch, her parents sitting across you both, and trevor and kennedy in two lounge chairs.

kate places her chin on the top of your head, wanting to engulf your entire being. the sight of you laughing and making jokes with her closest family melts her heart. she admires every single second you spend just laughing at something someone said, feeling as though you were meant to be here in this moment.

you’re all mid laugh after kennedy recalls a high school basketball fail memory when her eyes widen, gasping loud and holding back a laugh.

“did kate tell you- oh my goodness. did kate tell you she used to have the most aggressive side part ever?!”

kate’s eyes widen at the exposure, face turning red when she tries covering your ears even though she already knows you’ve heard it already. your jaw goes slack because you had no idea, and think it’s absolutely hilarious.

“what?! no! i had no idea! she never said anything.”

“really kate? you’ve never shown her a high school photo?” her mom speaks through laughs, kate’s face and the reveal stuck in her mind.

“oh my god- was this a whole high school career thing?”

“yes! at least five years, i’m surprised it didn’t get stuck that way.”

everyone’s in on the conversation now and the inside joke begins to form. even with her embarrassment, kate doesn’t mind much because it’s you, joking with her family. she’d go through a million moments like this if it meant bringing you closer with the people she loves most.

through the hysteria, kate meets her mom’s eyes. the approving smile is present, a silent ‘you got a good one’ look that tells kate all she needs to know. of course she was certain her family would love you, but she didn’t know it’d be so easy, all the pieces falling into place. kate smiles back, trying to burn this memory into her mind forever.

after dark everyone’s drifting back inside and bidding trevor and kennedy goodbye. you hug them both, telling them how amazing you think they are and you’re really happy to have met them. they tell you the same, especially kennedy who sneaks in a joke about how you’re her ‘future sister.’ your heart stutters at that, the idea of being kate’s wife giving you butterflies in your stomach.

it’s when kate places her hand in yours and guides you to her bedroom that her mom really knows. with absolute confidence she knows how deeply in love her daughter is with you. she knows kate has found her soulmate from the way she’s always watching over you, making sure you’re alright. it’s mother’s intuition, she just knows.

kate hands you your towel, kissing your forehead as you exit the shower and she takes your place. you’re brushing your hair when she asks you how you feel about her family.

“i really love them kate. they’re all so sweet and funny. they really were so welcoming.”

“yeah, i can tell everyone really likes you.”

it makes you feel good to hear to say that, like it’s an official welcome into her family. and it means everything to you, knowing how much family means to kate. knowing she brought you here to see where she grew up and who she grew up with.

“i’ll be right back kate, i left my socks in your room.”

“okay! i love you!” her voice fades as you walk out, shouting out a quick ‘i love you’ back. because you really do love her, more than anything.

you’re searching through your bag when you hear a gentle knock on the open door, turning to see kate’s mom jill.

“hey! is everything okay?”

“oh yeah, everything great. i just wanted to tell you it was really amazing to meet you. you’re a wonderful girl, and i can tell kate really loves you,” her voices lowers a bit as she speaks again, “y’know, kate’s never really had a serious girlfriend, you’re the first girl she’s ever brought home. i know she’s happy with you, so thank you for being so good to her. and you’re welcomed here anytime.”

you’re at a loss for words, thankful for the praise and slightly shocked by the news that kate hasn’t ever brought a girl home. you and kate never discussed dating history in detail and it didn’t matter to you. it still doesn’t. your heart pounds and warms your body, flustered because of how well jill thinks of you.

“well, thank you for having me. i really appreciate how welcoming everyone was today, it means a lot. i really feel happy here and hopefully we’ll get to come back soon.”

her mom smiles and nods, kissing your cheek as she says goodnight to you. the whole interaction is almost surreal. your love for kate grows impossibly larger knowing that the love you two share is so easy to notice.

your girlfriend walks into her room and spots you, picking you up bridal-style before laying down in bed. you straddle her, eyes gleaming at her big silly grin. she reaches for you hands and kisses them repeatedly, closing her eyes and melting into the touch.

“i love you so much, never wanna be without you.”

“i never want to be without you either,” you’re leaning down, kissing her skin wherever you feel it. she’s warm and soft from the shower, skin smooth and perfect for leaning into.

“i want to marry you.”

“kate, don’t say those things.”

your heart pounds for what feels like the millionth time that day, not sure if she’s saying it just because of the heat of the moment. either way, you know with absolute certainty that you would want to marry her too and if she asked you’d say yes.

“why not? i mean it. i want to marry you.” and she’s not lying, she really does mean it. with the deepest parts of her soul she means it and knows it’s true. she thinks she’ll buy you and ring the second she gets back to iowa, feeling a sudden urgency to bond your love.

“i want to marry you too.”

you both stare at each other wordlessly, the only thing existing between you is the love you share. she kisses you again and again, feeling that if she doesn’t you’ll just disappear because you’re too good to be true. she holds you tighter because she fears you might vanish or realize you don’t actually want this.

but you do. you both do. you’ll always love kate even in death, wherever that may take you. you know that for certain, just as certain as kate is about her love and adoration for you.

“mrs. martin. i like that.”

“for you or me?”

“for us. i want to be with you forever, future mrs. martin.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

GUYS I REALLY LIKE THIS. i want to turn it into a little series of reader and kate’s future (wedding, kids, etc.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK

[l3tm31nn0w]

At His Mercy

Mr. Reed (Heretic) x fem reader

You’re a PhD theology student wasting time at religious convention, bored out of your mind until you meet a charismatic older man who shares your interest in religion and blasphemy.

Warnings: p in v sex, religious trauma, age gap (reader is of age, nearly 30), degradation, oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation, wax play, religion used in an erotic way

(I have never written fanfic in my LIFE that’s how down bad I am for this man, forgive me if this is a mess lol)

You walked up to the mediocre coffee station for the third time that morning, preparing to stay awake through another dull lecture. It was day two of the Colorado Theology Conference and you had lost patience halfway through day one. You had hoped for more academic and agnostic speakers, but so far you’d heard nothing but actual Christian pastors and priests rambling on about the state of modern religion. For Christ sakes the keynote speaker was a goddamn prosperity preacher! You had to stay as long as could to please the big wigs at the university, each program had to send a PhD candidate for “professional development” and this was all they could find for religious studies. Lucky you.

As you poured the burnt coffee into your already stained styrofoam cup you glanced around the table trying to spot the little creamer cups to no avail. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You said under your breath, clearly louder than intended. “Well there’s always sugar!” You whipped your head to the direction of the voice, fearing youd get scolded by some pastor for daring to curse. The voice, a posh British accent that felt out of place in this cursed convention center, belonged to a middle aged man. He had a kind smile that reached his blue eyes effortlessly. He produced three small sugar packets and handed them to you. “I wish I could drink it black but I can’t handle the bitterness.” He chuckled as you mixed the packets into your cup. You smiled back at him and squinted to read his name tag, delighted that pastor was missing from his name. “Thank you Mr. Reed, I’m just glad to see a man that’s not a preacher in this room.”

His eyes traveled across your body and you almost called him out but he spoke before you could say anything. “I take it you’re not a woman of the cloth yourself, I hate to judge a book by its cover but I doubt many Christian churches would want that on display.” He pointed to the tattoo on your sternum. You giggled and relaxed, realizing he hadn’t been in ogling you, he’d simply been looking at your tattoo. He was the first person this weekend to look at it and smile, most had sneered at you once they realized what it depicted, not that any of them really knew beyond thinking it was a demon. “I know it’s not a good look for an old man like myself to be staring at a young ladies chest, but indulge me” his posh voice lowered with the last words and you felt yourself growing unexpectedly warm. “That fellow there” he said point towards collarbone “is Asmodeus, yes?” You looked up at him, realizing how handsome he really was up close. He had a classic attractiveness to him that no doubt made him popular when he was younger, but there was a bookish innocence to him even at his older age that drew you in. His instant recognition of the demon on your chest must’ve made you visibly light up because he beamed a smile right back at you. “You’re the first person to actually know who he is this entire weekend! I’ve gotten lots of comments but I’m sure you can imagine they were less than kind based on the crowd we have here.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded, enthusiastically agreeing with you about the overly zealous convention goers.

Relieved to have met someone with a more academic background you blurted out “I’m Y/N! Please sit with me during the next lecture? I think I’ll die if I’m stuck sitting between anymore church moms or worship leaders.” He smiled again, making the crows feet surrounding his blue eyes wrinkle up. “Absolutely Y/N, but only if we can sit in the back and whisper nasty jokes about whatever nonsense is being said on stage.” You laughed, a genuine laugh, and began walking towards the ballroom where the next lecture was taking place.

“So what brings you here Mr. Reed? You must be an academic if you’re not a Bible thumper like all these people. Forgive me for judging a book by its cover as well, but you must be a professor?” He certainly looked like one with autumnal colored cardigan, grey slacks and large clear rimmed glasses. “Oh goodness no, you flatter me! I’m just an old man with an interest in religion. I’ve been studying it for decades at this point. I’ve been to quite a few of these things, but usually they’re filled with academics not religious nuts. I think this one was advertised a bit incorrectly. I’m guessing you’re on your way to being a professor though?” He quiered back at you. “Yes, I’m getting my PhD in religious studies. I’ve been into religion as long as I can remember as well, I guess not as long as you. Oh god sorry that was rude!” You blushed a bright red realizing you’d called Mr. Reed old. He simply laughed and said “Darling don’t apologize for having eyes, I’ve clearly got a few decades on you! You must be what? 30 at most?” The blush from early only deepened at the pet name. Attempting to gain composure you coughed and replied “30 in April!” “Trust me, I’m ancient history compared to you.”

The two of you settled into the back row of the ballroom and you nodded toward the speaker, a Baptist minister who looked like he’d been alive during the crucifixion. You lowered your voice to a whisper “well not as ancient as HIM.” Mr. Reed stifled his laughter, a challenge you both attempted and mostly failed as you whispered back and forth for the next hour.

After the lecture the two of you slinked out the back worried you’d get a talking to for being too loud during the lecture. You looked at the paper schedule from your pocket and sighed “the damn keynote is next. I don’t think I can handle that grifter.” Mr. Reed grimaced in agreement. He looked down at his watch and then up at you. “Would you allow me to take you lunch darling?” There was the pet name again and with it came a flush in your cheeks. You chewed your lip, deliberating it. You were supposed to sit through the scheduled lectures and bring back notes for your thesis team, a way to prove the university’s investment in professional development wasn’t wasted even though it most certainly was in this instance. You looked up at Mr. Reed, studying his expression. You wanted to know more about this mysterious religious enthusiast full of dirty jokes who got excited by demons. Surely he had stories that would be more impactful than that prosperity preacher! You lied to yourself saying it was purely academic when in reality the heat pooling in your stomach was getting hard to ignore. You’d always fancied older men, but until now it was always talk. Always a day dream. Here was a handsome older gentleman who had a lot in common with you who was seemingly flirting without being creepy. You couldn’t let this chance pass. “It would be my pleasure! Let’s get out of here.” Your new companion’s face lit up and he guided you out the door of the convention hall. “Don’t laugh at how cliche this is, but there’s a rather good English pub down the road how does that sound?” You tightened your scarf around your face and nodded, a slight giggle escaping at that suggestion coming from the posh accent.

After a couple of blocks you’d reached your destination and settled into a booth at the back of the dark, cozy pub. “Can I ask a personal question that may be slightly uncomfortable?” Mr. Reed posited. You were becoming slightly infatuated and really had nothing to lose at this point. “I’m an open book, ask away!” “What is your reasoning for getting our good friend asmodeus etched upon your lovely collarbone? I know you’re far too smart for the standard answer of “he looks neat.”” You knew this would be coming the second he had recognized the demon on your chest. If you were going here, you wanted to play with him a little. “Well Mr. Reed, I can answer that, but first I need you to tell me what you know about Asmodeus.” Your older companion smiled at you dangerously and began, “Well, he’s present in all the abrahamic religions, usually as a demon king. He’s closely associated with the Angel Raphael. And, forgive me for being so crass, I hope this last reason may have motivated your tattoo: in the late Middle Ages the Malleus Maleficarum posited that he was the demon of lust.” His final word went straight to your core. You were almost dizzy from the rush of endorphins hitting you, sure it was hot that was boldly and blatantly flirting with you, but his knowledge of all the things that interested you the most may have been even sexier to you. You smiled coyly. “It’s your lucky day then Mr. Reed. His association with lust was absolutely the motivating factor.” He grinned at you and gave a look suggesting he wanted you to elaborate. “I was raised Catholic. My parents were all about it, we were constantly volunteering at the church. So at one point in high school me and this friend, Gabe, are put in charge of cleaning out the sensors. One day I walk in and see the parish priest trying to put a move on Gabe and I put myself between them. I tell the creep I’m running straight to the diocese and to my parents to get his ass fired. Well by the time I get home my mother is SCREAMING at me calling me a whore of Babylon, a jezebel. My father won’t look me in the eye. Turns out the creep priest had called my house and told my mom he caught me and Gabe fornicating in the church office and that Gabe told him I let all the other high school altar boys take turns with me. Obviously none of it was true, I was a virgin and Gabe was in the closet, which father creep knew and probably used to get Gabe to fall into line with his story. For the rest of high school I was the Catholic school slut and that came with all the cat calling and groping you can imagine. You’d think that would break my spirits when it came to religion, but it had been with me so long I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t believe the way my family did, but the stories, the imagery it all meant so much to me. So I fuck off at 18 and go to college in a different state for theology. Turns out I’m good at it. I graduate with honors. I get into a top choice masters program. I graduate from that program with honors. I know I’m hot shit and I feel like I’m hot shit and that I’ve come a long long way from being the Catholic school slut so I find the perfect image of Asmodeus and get him smack dab in the middle of my slut chest. Because he’s more than lust, he’s power, he’s danger. It’s a shame though, I spent so much time with my head in a book I never got to live up to my alleged Catholic slut persona.”

The second you finish your story your confidence falters and you feel your cheeks flush. You cannot believe you just shared all that with this man you’ve only known for a few hours. Mr. Reed broke the silence by quietly saying “You’re extraordinary.” You could tell he was being sincere and it made your heart beat faster. If he kept this up your old reputation may come true. “Well now you know my edgy religious trauma backstory, let’s hear yours!” He chuckled. “Well I can’t say I was ever accused of being the town harlot, though I don’t think I’d fit that part visually anyway.” You rolled your eyes at him, sick of his subtle self deprecation. He had to know he was handsome. Sure, he was old enough to be your father, but his age suited his features. The lines around his mouth and eyes came to life when he smiled. His greying hair was touseled in that messily attractive sort of way. The large glasses that sat in his face added to the sexy professor vibe he gave off. “Honestly I’ve got no tragic backstory. I’ve just craved the connection to a higher power since as long as I can remember. I wasn’t raised religious so as soon as I could read I started searching for the one true god. There’s so many religions is exhausting. Each of them have their own special qualities, but there was always something that let me down. I learned literally as much as I could. I’ve collected so many books and artifacts that my house looks like a damned theology museum. Then I found it. After my years and years and years of searching. I found the one true religion, the one true god.” He said those final words very seriously which contrasted greatly with his general quirky demeanor. You let out a little gasp. “So you’re not agnostic or an atheist then? I just assumed the way we were talking with each other you were agnostic like me!” “I was the picture of agnosticism for many many years. I don’t know what my discovery makes me. There’s no way to describe it.” Ok, now you were a little nervous. Was the handsome academic before you secretly a cult freak? He clearly sensed your discomfort and lightened the mood. “Enough of that though, you’re not some religious nut who needs to be convinced. I respect a solid agnostic. It’s good to be open to anything.” You smiled back at him, feeling just a bit more at ease.

You continued to chat about yourselves and various religious facts and oddities as you ate. Eventually you exited the restaurant and realized how long you’d been lost in conversation. The sun had begun to set and you weren’t quite ready to leave your new companion. His assertion of knowing the one true religion wouldn’t leave your mind. An old building across the road caught your eye. You looked over to Mr. Reed, his nose starting to flush pink with the cold. “Humor me?” You said as you stuck your gloved hand out to him. He smiled and placed his much larger hand in yours. You pulled him across the road and into the old stone building, a rundown yet still beautiful Catholic Church.

Despite your distaste for your family and your upbringing, you always felt a warmth and a comfort inside a Catholic Church. This one was small, but still had all the hallmarks of a cathedral: stained glass, wooden carvings of the stations of the cross, a giant crucifix of Christ in all his gory glory dead center of the aisle. You always found that there was a certain blasphemous sensuality in the depictions of Christ. Maybe you weren’t beating the Catholic slut allegations after all.

As you guided Mr. Reed into the church you paused to anoint yourself with holy water, old habits die hard after all. He skipped the water but followed you as you trailed around the church, your eyes on the architecture and decor, his eyes never leaving you. You finally settled into a few towards the front near the donation candles. The two of you were the only occupants and you closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Eyes still closed, you rested your hand on his and whispered “Thank you for seeing me. Nobody has ever seen me the way that you have.” You were met with silence, but his larger hand covered yours. After a continued moment of silence you opened your eyes and turned to him. “Please. What is this one true religion you believe so much in? I have to know. I can’t fathom parting ways and never knowing.” He looked at you very seriously. “Are you sure you want to know?” “Please.” You whispered desperately. “Ok, then close your eyes again.” He said in a hushed tone. You did as you were told and you felt him brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He leaned in close enough that you could feel his lips graze your ear and whispered “Control.”

Your entire body felt as if it was engulfed in flames. You squeezed the hand that still remained in your grasp and your eyes fluttered open. His gaze was hungry. You stared directly at him and said, louder than any of your previous conversation in the church, “Mr. Reed I think I’d like you to take me to see that theology museum you mentioned earlier.” “Of course darling.” In stark contrast to the way you had lazily lead him by his hand into the church, he quickly lead you out with his hand pressed firmly onto the small of your back. The old woman working the volunteer desk shot the two of you a puzzled look, she had no doubt assumed you were father and daughter until she saw the way his hand rested just above your ass.

He whisked you back to the convention hall parking lot and opened his car door for you, ever the gentleman. He had asked if you’d driven to the convention and if you wanted to drive separate, but you had ubered from your modest student housing. The two of you continued to make conversation as you had all evening, Mr. Reed even mentioning specific artifacts he would show you when you arrived at his house. Despite this the sexual tension was thick and heavy in his small sedan. A small part of you was screaming to yourself that this was insane and reckless, going to a second location with a man you just met today. But you had secretly wanted your day to end this way nearly the second you met him. His course whisper of the word control had sent you over the edge. All you do is think and decide and it gets so fucking exhausting. The idea of turning yourself over to him to do with you as he liked was just too good to pass up.

He pulled up to his house and opened up the car door, leading you into his house. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked in. It was adorable. It had the soft welcoming quality of a grandparents house. You wouldn’t dare say this aloud for fear of making him self conscious about his age. “Oh Mr. Reed your house is lovely! It’s so cozy!” You exclaimed. He smiled at you and then noticed you were shivering. “Cup of tea to warm you through?” He asked. You nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen. You settled onto a couch and before long he returned with two cups of tea. As he handed you yours his fingers brushed your hand for an extended moment and it sent shocks through you. Much to your embarrassment he noticed and winked. You drank your tea and continued to talk aimlessly until finally he said “Would you like to see some of my collection?” You nodded enthusiastically. Sure, “seeing his theology museum” was a ploy for him to take you home and fuck you senseless, but you also were dying to see his collection and he knew it.

He grabbed your hand and guided you down a dimly lit hallway into a large office. It was chock full of books, artifacts and paintings. You could’ve lost hours in here. He had things from just about every religion you’d ever heard of, there were probably a ton that you had no clue about. He let you wander around for a moment then retreated into a corner, returning with an intricate crucifix. “I think you’ll love this one, I saw how you looked at the one at the church.” He handed it over to you and you brought it close to your face to inspect the detailed paint job. It was a wooden carving, probably late medieval or early northern renaissance. The paint had faded, but the details of Christ’s wounds still shone a bright red. You rubbed your finger absentmindedly up the naked torso of the figurine and you felt Mr. Reed’s breath on your neck. “I watched you look upon the lord in that church and could tell your thoughts weren’t so holy. Is that your grand rebellion against your upbringing? Fantasizing about fucking Jesus?” You whipped around and faced him, your lips nearly touching. His pale eyes bore into you and for the first time this evening you were genuinely speechless. That serious, almost scathing tone from back at the church had returned. “How many times have you sat up late at night and touched yourself looking at him while you study? Do your droll professors know you’re soaking through your panties when they’re running through their slides?” Your face had to be deep red at this point and he was clearly relishing in your embarrassment. “When was the last time you got fucked y/n?” You looked away from him and that was all the answer he needed. “At what point today did you start imagining me fucking you?” He asked smugly. You thought back, trying to pinpoint the exact moment your thoughts turned to sin. “When you pointed out my tattoo. I thought you were checking me out, but realized you were genuinely curious about the tattoo. You knew what he was.” His eyebrow raised, seemingly pleased and shocked at your answer. “I thought you were handsome from the moment you handed me the sugar packets, I have eyes after all, but your intelligence is what sent a fire through me.”

You felt brave and brought your hands up to his hair, rifling your fingers through his soft greying locks. He closed his eyes and hummed an approval. After you broke the seal by touching him, he finally placed his hands around your waist and pulled you towards him, your chests flushed against each other. Your lips were barely grazing when he whispered

“Behold, you are beautiful, my love;

    behold, you are beautiful;

    your eyes are doves.”

Who was this man? One second he’s degrading you, the next he’s holding you tenderly quoting the Song of Solomon.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the small gap and kissed you. It was a a chaste kiss, perhaps revealing he simply talked a big game and he himself hadn’t had a lover in some time. That was fine by you, there was something alluring about breaking him in. You went in for another kiss, hotter and heavier than his, your hands gripping his scalp, a moan building in the back of your throat. You broke the kiss and began placing kisses across his face and neck, settling in to craft a hickey on his right side. You left his neck with a pop, satisfied by the red mark left behind. You whispered into his ear “and when was the last time you fucked, Mr. Reed?” He brought his hands up to your face, pulling it to look him in the eye. “I must confess darling it’s been quite a minute. Once you reach my age the options slim out. I’m also not one to just stick my cock in whatever makes itself available. You, my dear, are special. And if you’ll let me, I can show you that while it may have been awhile for me, I promise you I’m not out of practice.” You answered him with another kiss. He smiled and released you, causing you to frown at the lack of contact.

“Give me just one second!” He called back to you as he began running around his office. He began putting together what you could only describe as a nest in the middle of the floor laying blankets and pillows around. He grabbed your hand and guided you to the floor. “Now darling, will you let me show you how a man treats a lady? I doubt those piddly little boys you’ve messed around with had a clue how to make your body sing.” His words went straight to your core. The idea of an age gap alone always turned you on, the allure of an experienced, tender older man who knew how to treat a lady. You let him lay you down and said “I’m at your mercy now Mr. Reed.”

He lay next to you and resumed kissing you passionately. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth he began slipping his hand under your sweater. “What a good Catholic slut you are!” He mused, pinching one of your nipples. You rarely ever wore a bra, especially under your thick winter sweaters. You let out a soft moan in response. He massaged your breast further and you stifled another moan. “Darling it’s just us, you can do better than that. “O come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise”” He tweaked your nipple at the end of the quote and you moaned deeply, both at the stimulation and the persevere use of a psalm. He pulled your sweater off leaving your chest bare, the cold air hardening your nipples. He wasted no time taking one into his mouth, licking and sucking while he stimulated the other with his hand. It was all going straight to your core, you needed him to touch you where it mattered.

“Please” you huffed out. He brought his face close to yours and asked “Please what? You’re a big girl use your words.” Your face flushed, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. You were never one to talk dirty or ask for specifics when you had sex, you always worried it would kill the mood. Deep down you knew this was part of the turn on for him though so you managed to sputter out “Please play with my pussy. I need it, I need it so bad it hurts.” He places a kiss on your forehead and replied “what a good girl using her words. How I could I ever deny you.” Despite the slight condescending tone, the use of “good girl” made you moan. He would remember this.

He brought his hand down to your jeans and rubbed through the thick material. It did practically nothing and you knew this was just another ploy for you to beg him using your words. “Mr. Reed please please touch me bare, please I need your fingers.” He smiled and began sliding your jeans off. He chuckled when he got to your underwear. “Listen I didn’t imagine I’d be getting lucky at the religious convention!” You squeaked out hiding your face. You’d absentmindedly thrown on a pair of boy short style underwear patterned with French fries. “Is it too forward to say suddenly I’m craving a McDonald’s?” You playfully kicked his leg and you both chuckled. “I would never allow a poor old man to starve.” You replied faux dramatically.

As he went to pull down your underwear he exclaimed “my god, am I this powerful? These are sopping wet.” It was true, he’d been turning you on for hours at this point and by the time you’d made it back to his little chapel your underwear was so wet it almost felt like you’d had an accident. “Then do something about it!” You huffed. He pulled the garment down your legs and you were finally laid bare before him. You had no clothes on and he had everything still on, down to the grandpa cardigan. Laid out in his office decorated like a church you felt like a sacrifice. That only turned you on more.

He pulled your legs apart as wide as they could go and gazed up your sex. Despite his academic cool guy demeanor, you were really beginning to see just how turned on he was. His face was flushed, his hands trembled slightly as they gripped your thighs. His erection was straining through his trousers, clearly large enough for you to have plenty of fun with later. He moved his hands from your thighs to your vulva and spread you open, sighing lustfully as he did. He took an index finger and rimmed it around your entrance, gathering your juices before bringing his finger in lazy circles around your clit. You moaned, a deep guttural moan. You were too caught up in the ecstasy of finally being touched to see just how much this affected him. He continued to slowly stroke you while he brought his lips back to your nipple, sucking and nibbling. The dual stimulation was heavenly. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered “Darling may I taste you?” You moaned at the thought and then, in a moment of theological clarity, caressed his cheek and replied “My beloved has gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to browse in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he browses among the lilies.” He seemed just as turned on by religious quotation as you, his eyes widened before he slunk back down to your pussy, spreading it wide before feasting upon you.

He took an experimental lick from your entrance to your clit and you cried out. Clearly amused by your reaction, he focused on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a painfully slow fashion. You were moaning in a way you would’ve considered deeply embarrassing had you had the clarity to hear yourself: a high pitched whiny squeal that sounded like something out of a porno. This entire scenario, the dashing older man eating out the young bookish girl, was straight out of a porn so perhaps your wailing was fitting.

As you felt your climax build, he cruelly pulled away. “Noooo don’t stop please!” You whined, lightly kicking his arm. He looked up at you and you found that his gaze had shifted back to the confident, predatory one you’d seen at the actual church. He climbed up your body until you were face to face and he held your chin in a strong grasp. “Are you going to be a good girl? Because only good girls get to cum.” You nodded frantically. “You said earlier you were at my mercy, I’m going to put that to the test now. If you disobey me I’ll leave you crying on the floor with no release and no chance at getting my cock.” Your eyes widened, what on earth did he mean with his test? Your mind was too clouded with lust to question anything. You needed him. “Anything Mr. Reed I’ll do anything you want. I’m your good girl please let me show you.” He chuckled at your desperation. “Wait right here then my good girl, I need to grab some things. Something from me and something from you.”

He left you laying on the floor wondering what he could possibly mean by something from you. After what felt like ages he returned. In his hands he held an ornate candlestick with the Virgin Mary carved into the side. A deep red candle was affixed to the top. “This” he said setting the candle on the ground “is from me.” He rifled into his cardigan pocket for something. “And this is from you. I think most people would say good girls don’t carry this in their purse, but I would wager I’m not most people.” He produced a small black rubber ball with a small hole at the top. You stared at in, confused, and then realization set in. It was a vibrator. You had gone out to lunch with your roommate from undergrad a week ago and she had given it to you as a joke, calling it your date for Valentine’s Day. She’d been married with kids for 5 years at this point and constantly nagged at you to settle down so the vibrator was par for the course, a usual humiliation from her. At the time you’d rolled your eyes at her and thrown it in your bag forgetting about it. Your companion must have rifled through your belongings when you got up to use the bathroom at the restaurant. He sat down on the floor and motioned for you to come to him. “Lay against me pet.” He said patting his chest. You backed into him, your ass against his straining erection and your head leaning back onto his shoulder. It was almost too intimate a position for a one night stand. If that’s all this was.

“Here is what’s going to happen. I am going to take this candle, light it, and drip its wax down your delectable body. While I’m doing that I will be holding this vibrator firmly against your clit. Now I know I’m not some big muscle freak, but I am certainly strong enough to hold you down and I will do so. You will not cum until I give you permission. If you agree to this right now I will not listen to any pleas of stop or no, but I know that you won’t dare even utter those words.” Your heart was racing and you felt yourself grow even wetter, something you didn’t think was possible at this point. Earlier when you’d mentally imagined fucking your new friend you’d imagined he would kiss you and fondle your breast a little before fucking you in missionary. You’d never anticipated wax play and edging from an aging British amateur theologian.

“I told you Mr. Reed. I’m at your mercy.” You huffed out, snuggling your head into his neck as if to prove how serious you were about staying. “Atta girl” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead. He started by lighting the candle. Once the wax began dripping down to the candle holder he lifted it off the ground and hovered it above your naked body. “You, LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.” The psalm slipped past his lips as the hot wax hit your breasts. It felt incredible, especially as he held you flush against him. His right arm held you firm in place against him even as his hand, which held the vibrator, snaked closer and closer to your core. Finally you felt the cold silicone divot pressed firmly over your clit. You shuddered at the contact, already sensitive from his fingers and mouth. He hit the button on the side of the device and it whirred to life. Just as the vibration began he poured more wax down your torso. The stimulation was already mind numbing. He began whispering passages from revelation in your ear, the twisted words of angels unleashing chaos on mankind only sending me further into your hedonistic frenzy. The Catholic slut had been fully realized. The vibrator attacked your clit you felt yourself teetering just on the edge of release, somehow holding out simply to please him, to serve him.

Tears began rolling down your cheek, not from the pain of the hot wax, but from the pure ecstasy this man was inflicting upon you. There was nothing left in the world, just you and him. His soft cardigan against your skin, his wispy grey curls tickling your eyes as you hid your face in the crook of this neck, his gentle voice in your ear. Suddenly that voice switched from revelation back to a passage from a psalm: “Deep calls to deep at the noise of your waterfalls. All your waves and your billows have swept over me.” Your entire body erupted into white hot light, your climax racking through your very being. Mr. Reed set down the candle and turned off the vibrator and brought you even closer to him, bringing you fully into his lap with his arms around your waist. You sobbed into his neck, so overwhelmed and overstimulated by what you had just experienced. “Oh my beautiful girl you are more marvelous than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Once you had stopped crying and come down from your orgasm a little, he tapped your side and helped you stand up. He guided you out of his faux church and down the hall into what you assumed must be his bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and left for moment, not without kissing you first. While you waiting for him you took in your surroundings. The walls were covered in a deep red floral wallpaper. The bedding was soft, though a little worn. He had more religious artifacts adorning his walls and shelves. You even spied Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons amongst a stack of books. You would tease him for that later. He returned with a large glass of water and handed it to you. As you sipped the cool water he started undressing, stripping down to a white tshirt and plaid boxers. You set the glass down on his bedside table and held your arms out to him. He climbed in the bed next to you and began kissing you fervently. His hands explored your body and despite the previous orgasm you found yourself growing slick with want yet again.

Now that he was freed from his trousers you reached your hand down and stroked his length through his boxers. He let out a delicious moan in response, his cool demeanor fully melted away and replaced with need. As you kissed him through his moans and continued to palm at him you wondered how long it had been since he’d been this intimate with someone. That’s really what was happening here, this was far more than a one night stand. You wanted to make him feel good, to elicit an orgasm that brought him to tears just like he had done for you.

Breaking the kiss you slid your hand under his shirt and gently guided it over his head. Once you’d removed his shirt you kissed him deeply, leaving his lips and trailing kisses down his chest. When you reached just above his boxers you raised an eyebrow, surprised to see a happy trail leading to your main event. You kissed along the patch of hair and slowly slid his boxers down. His cock sprung forward and you couldn’t help but moan a little at the sight of him. He was a good 7inches and decently thick. Circumsized too, so god must be pleased.

You began stroking his bare length and he shuddered. Leaning forward, you took his entire length into your mouth in one quick motion and he yelled. As you went to work he gripped your hair holding you tight in place. “Oh my sweet girl my good girl you make me feel divine” he sputtered out between moans. You loved how vocal he was and you couldn’t wait to hear him when he was inside you.

Suddenly his grip on your scalp released and he pulled your head off of him. Fearing you’d done something wrong you looked up at him with big doe eyes, waiting for a response. He pulled you up so that you were straddling him and brought your head to rest against his. “And the two shall become one flesh.” He whispered before pulling you into a kiss you could only describe as romantic. Sure you were both naked and your wet cunt was planted firmly on his rock hard cock, but there was something innocent and pure about that kiss. He scooted up against the headboard and pulled you firmly onto his lap, your tits right at eye level. He lifted you onto him and you both groaned in ecstasy as he entered you. Unable to control yourself you began riding him, needing to feel him go deep inside you. The sounds coming from your soaking union were obscene, complimented by your once again pornographic high pitched squeals and his guttural moans. He held you flush against him, your breasts smothering his face. He nipped and sucked at your nipples again, feeling the rush of warm wet slick it caused. “Imagine what your old classmates would think of you now, piercing yourself on an old atheist’s cock.” The dirty talk was back and you knew his voice alone could guide you to a second climax. “If god was real then he designed you just for me, he made your sweet little cunt ripe for my taking. MY perfect little Catholic slut.” He growled out the word “my” emphasizing the feeling you already held near and dear to your heart, you were his. With those words ringing in your ear you came hard and fast around his cock and he followed shortly after. You could feel his warm seed filling you and mixing with your own cum, dripping out of your weeping hole.

You both just held each other, his cock softening inside you. He finally pulled out and the two of you hobbled to his bathroom. He guided you into the shower and you both just enjoyed each other’s silent company as you cleaned off the evidence of your lecherous evening. You stayed under the warm water awhile longer after he left, just soaking in the steam. When you climbed out and began drying yourself off he re-entered the bathroom holding a pair of plaid boxers and a faded old Radiohead t shirt. “I get to stay?” You asked grabbing the clothes from him and pulling him into a kiss. “Darling if I had it my way you’d never leave.” You pulled on his clothes and climbed into his bed with him, falling asleep in his arms as if it was the place you were destined to be.

***

Four months later when you crossed the stage to accept your doctoral diploma, you beamed with pride and relief that for the first time in your academic career they didn’t call out the last name that belonged to your family who had thrown you out so carelessly. No, they announced you as Dr. Reed.

After a whirlwind month of romance and hedonism, Mr. Reed had proposed to you. It was insane, your friends thought, marrying a man old enough to be your father that you’d just met, but when they saw the two of you together the couldn’t argue. It truly seemed that you were two halves of a whole.

You were hired by the university you’d graduated from as a theology professor and you and your husband lived a blissful life. You opened him up more and would bring your friends around for dinner parties and game nights. He would still linger at your side like a puppy dog even as he grew more comfortable around people. The house you shared was always ooh’d and ahh’d at by company. Occasionally you’d be asked “what’s behind those twin doors in the office?” and you’d smile and politely reply “oh it’s just old storage there, nothing fancy to show off. In fact it’s a mess, I’d be embarrassed for you to see!” and your husband would squeeze your arm and smile at you, proud that you’d converted to his one true religion.

[seraphinitegames]

A but late, but it's here...The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 21/June/2024 

Was a week of checking off lots of boxes again this week!

I finished writing all the needed blurbs and tag lines for Hosted Games finally! It takes a looooong time to think about a bunch of different ways to describe the story, especially in only 45 words, 80 words, etc! But it was actually really fun breaking down what’s coming up in the story and thinking how to vaguely and mysteriously hint at it, hehe! ;D

I also took the opportunity to rewrite the big blurb for Book Four. I wasn’t completely happy with it first time around, so this was a great chance to rework that:

--

The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book Four

Time is a precious commodity.

Unfortunately, it’s a commodity you don’t have much of these days.

Keeping up with the exhausting training for your new career while balancing your deepening romance on top of juggling some kind of personal life doesn’t leave much time to relax!

But it wouldn’t be a Wayhaven story you’ve come to know without something new to add to that ever-growing pile…

Something stirs beneath the town of Wayhaven.

Something old.

Something powerful.

Something with a very keen interest in you.

-

Delve into the world of Wayhaven once more, where a new enemy is not only unleashed upon the town but unleashes its advances upon you—to your vampire lover’s chagrin.

Or if your heart has yet to find a partner…perhaps you'll succumb to the villain’s romantic attempts?

The choice is yours!

--

It’s still way too wordy, so I’ll probably work on condensing it a bit, but I love it a lot more now! :D

I also got started on Chapter Three! Like, I seriously got started on it and really slammed into that, lol!

The only thing I’m having a bit of trouble with is deciding where a certain POV should go, as I’ve decided to add in an extra Unit Bravo POV with Rebecca, but I don’t want that POV leading into another POV that isn’t the reader’s straight away…I’m not sure if that makes sense, lol! But I’m going to write it all in the order I have it planned and then see how it actually reads.

I should actually get all the way to finishing the first third of the chapter tomorrow, which includes those two POVs!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend!

[admirationandromantics]

Painting Date

Another request, thank you for sending them!! I finally finished the prologue for the Chris story, so 1/12 parts done. Get ready.

Anyways, this is a little shorter than usual, because sometimes that just happens. This is an au where shit didn't go down, so enjoy <3

“Josh, get two glasses of water!” I shout to the kitchen, getting the last colours piped on the pallet. We were on Blackwood Mountain, a weekend getaway to relax and calm down, a way to disconnect from the bothers of the real world. The first day was painting. I brought a bunch of paint, a couple of canvases and some brushes. We sat up in front of the big windows of the lodge, looking out on the sublime mountain. We may not be master artists, but even they cannot do the landscape justice. Whatever it turned into, I would love it. Anyways, the most important thing was to destress, to merge into nothingness and build our relationship without interference. 

“Here we go” Josh exclaims, walking in with two cups, almost filled to the brim. I actually meant two cups each, but it’s too late to ask him about it now. He puts them on the table in front of us, kissing my head before sitting down beside me. 

“Damn, it’s beautiful outside” he says, eyes wide from the mesmerizing view. 

“Yeah, I know, we should come her more often” 

“We really should, shame about the snow though” 

I look out, seeing the white neat blanket covering trees and stone. It’s absolutely beautiful, whatever does he mean? The snow is untouched by both animals and humans, nature in its purest form. 

“It’s natural, untouched, what’s wrong?” 

“We could’ve at least made some snow angels, if you know what I mean” he answers teasingly. He’s turned to me, brow arched and a smirk plastered on his lips. I laugh at him, at his suggestive tone. How forward. 

“Get your head out of the clouds before the paint dries” 

“Doesn’t look dry to me” 

I comply, adding to the tension he’s building. My finger finds its way to the blue paint, taking a small amount before smearing it on his nose. His mouth opens in surprise, shocked by my challenge. I take it a step further, smiling as I tease him. 

“I guess you’re right, it isn’t dry” 

“You didn’t just do that” 

“I believe I did” 

He leans forward, and I do the same, meeting each other in the middle for a kiss. Lips collide, soft and hungry. His tongue licks my lower lip, begging for entrance. I let him, tongue roaming in my mouth as I deepen the kiss. My hand fares to his neck, pulling him closer. His wet nose graces over my skin, and I feel the paint stain my face. He’s adorable. 

He shifts, and I open my eyes to see his hand subtly coat itself in paint. He acts quick, hand shooting forward. Luckily, I notice, and pull back just in time. 

“Josh…” I try to calm him down, talking sense to get to an agreement. He stands up, walking towards me. I step back in response, mirroring the movement. 

“You so gonna get back” 

“No, Josh, it was just a little, that’s a lot” I explain, pointing down to his green-covered hand. He continues smiling, coming closer towards me. I take a leap, jumping over the sofa so we’re on opposite sides. He laughs at me, but keeps up his pace, walking around the furniture. I do the same, still being on opposite sides. 

“You think you’ll get away that easily?” 

“Well, you love me, you’ll let me off the hook in a couple of minutes” 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really” I smile as I continue going round. He pulls a heavy chair on the other side, blocking the path I’ve been going three times already. Shit. He then starts running, making me yelp as I go the same route, trying to climb over the chair. 

I’m too slow, and he grabs hold of my waist with his clean hand as I squirm and shout. 

“I swear to God, Josh, I’m gonna kill you” 

His green hand comes closer, and I keep trying to get out of his grip. It doesn’t work. He’s caging me, arm strong as he holds me in place. 

“No, no, no!” 

His hand makes its way to my face, but I grab it with both my arms, holding him centimeters away. He’s strong, and I tilt my head upward as he makes contact with my throat, grabbing harshly. I choke a bit, air leaving as I try to kill a moan. His body is pressed up against my back, hand still around my waist to get me closer. He pushes more on my throat, causing my head to fall back on his shoulder, ear against his mouth. 

“Told you that you wouldn’t get away that easily” 

He kisses my ear, hand moving from my side up to my chest, groping. I let out a whine, feeling my heat pool as he continues touching me. Suddenly, he lets go, taking my hand with his clean one and dragging me back to the canvases. 

“What just happened?” I ask, confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. 

“Let's paint before it dries”

“Wait, you can’t do all that and just stop” 

“Yeah I can” 

“Asshole” 

He smirks, sitting down in front of the windows yet again. I do the same, taking a deep breath and feeling up my throat. The paint is dried, a green handmark showing exactly how he held me. 

“For once, it’s not red” he whispers, paintbrush already in hand as he starts painting. 

“Oh, just wait, I’m gonna get you back” 

“I’d love to see you try”

[sainzzsturns]

Injured

j. bellingham x fem!volleyplayer!reader

warnings: injury

category: angst w comforting fluff

summary: reader gets hurt during one of her volley games

You played one of the most difficult positions ever, the libero.

That meant you had to give your absolute best 100% of the time, if you did anything wrong your team would immediately lose a possible point.

So obviously in game days you would be shaking with anxiety constantly, although your boyfriend, Jude, would be there to confort you.

“I get you completely, but don’t worry, you always do well, I’m sure this time won’t be any different.”

You walked in the stadium through the back to get in the locker room, you put on your uniform and knee pads and sleeves.

You hit the tip of your shoes getting comfortable in them as you stepped out onto the court starting to warm up with your teammates.

You locked eyes with Jude for a second, him giving you a reassuring smile with a thumbs up. Your two mutual friends, Vini Jr and Eduardo Camavinga there to support you as well.

The ref blew the whistle and your team started serving.

The game was going well till now, your team being ahead by 14x10 for the first set.

Suddenly a strong attack ball game from the opposite team, your teammate received it, but the impact made the ball go far from the court.

Instantly you ran after it tripping over some tables and chair which were laying in the corner of the court.

You managed to hit the ball sending it back to your team, although, when you got back up again, you closed your eyes and screamed in pain as you sat back down.

You looked at your ankle as it instantly started become red and eventually purple, it was also already a bit bigger than your other ankle.

Even though you had protection on, both your knees had also become colored and you noticed some scratches on your arm.

The referee blew her whistle when she noticed your position.

The medical team was called over and picked you up, setting you down on your team’s bench.

Three attentive boys came down from their seats to reach you.

Jude immediately grabbed your hand and rubbed your shoulders, watching closely as the medic examined your ankle.

“I’m so sorry baby, it’s going to be alright, I’m right here, just hold my hand.” He said, giving you support.

Vini combed some of your hair out of your face, wiping fallen tears every now and then.

Eventually the medic had concluded you had a dislocated ankle and a couple scratches, nothing serious, both injuries would heal soon with the correct care. He wrapped a boot around your foot as well.

Obviously you had to be benched, but even so your team managed to win.

Throughout the rest of the game you sat with your boyfriend, hugged on his side, sniffling from time to time from your past tears.

When it was time to leave your were still in a bad mood, of course you were happy with your team’s win but it still hurt not being able to play for a while, and need others’s support.

Jude handed you your crutches as you all made your way towards the exit.

Arriving home, Jude gave you a nice relaxing shower, after that, laying you down on your bed as he hugged you close, wanting to protect you from all harm.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, if I could take all your pain away I would in a heartbeat. Well, actually, maybe not this weekend because I have a game!” He said, earning a couple giggles from you.

“That’s alright, thanks for taking care of me.” You answered.

“It’s my job! And I’ll be your care taker for a long while, so get used to it.” He added.

Tiredness took over your body as your eyelids grew heavier.

“Good night, Judey” You murmured.

“Good night, love” He answered.

[daisynik7]

Fine Lines

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Genre: modern day au, one-shot

Rating: Explicit

cw: vaginal sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, “princess”, “slut”, somewhat self-conscious reader

Word Count: ~7.0k

Summary: A girl’s night out ends with you crossing some lines with your best friend’s brother. 

Notes: Got inspired by this soundgasm I listened to that drove me wild (this is the link, listener discretion advised, put your damn headphones on before you click)! Everyone is in their mid-to-late twenties, for reference. Title inspired by the song “Fine Lines” by Jorja Smith. 

Personal Notes: This is shameless smut, not much plot (although I tried). Also, I’m very much obsessed with the pet name “princess” right now, so don’t mind me as I stick it in every fucking fic I write, can’t promise I’ll ever grow tired of it. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

ao3 | my masterlist

It’s Friday night, at last the start of the weekend. Work has been particularly stressful the past few days. New projects, useless meetings, upcoming deadlines; it’s never-ending. In need to let loose after being tightly wound this whole week, you suggest to your best friends, Mikasa and Sasha, for a girl’s night out. Dinner, drinks, dancing, and trashy food to end the night of debauchery. Just what you need to relax. 

At Mikasa’s apartment, the three of you gather inside her bedroom, blasting a party hits playlist as you all get ready. Sasha, eating a sandwich for a pre-game snack, sits beside on you on the carpet, the two of you applying your make-up in front of the closet mirror while Mikasa tries on outfits. “Does this look okay?” She presents herself to them in her black, strappy two-piece. 

Sasha whistles. “Hot mama!”

You smile, agreeing. “Stunning!”

She blushes, always appreciative of the support. “Thanks.” 

Suddenly, there’s aggressive knocking on the door. She opens it to find her brother and roommate, Eren, glaring at her. “Can you lower it? It’s so fucking loud.”

She rolls her eyes, tapping her phone to lower the volume. “Don’t you wear headphones?”

“I was wearing headphones and I still couldn’t hear Jean or Connie because of your fucking music.”

“Alright, alright, I lowered it, okay?”

“Thank you.” He glances over to you and Sasha, watching them argue. You quickly look away to avoid his gaze, staring back at the mirror. 

“Where are you three going tonight?” he asks, directing his question to his sister.

“Dinner in Stohess, then dancing at Club Paradis.”

“What’s the occasion?”

From the reflection of the mirror, you see Mikasa point her thumb at you. “Just a girl’s night. She’s been stressed at work and wants to let off some steam.” 

Eren looks at you, your back turned to them as you pretend to not be listening. “Well, have fun.”

“What are you up to today?” Mikasa asks.

“Just gaming with Jean and Connie. Armin’s out of town at a work conference, so it’ll be an uneventful weekend.” He pauses before directing his question at you. “So, I’m assuming you’ll get super drunk tonight? Will I need to take care of you again?”

You whip around to face him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, recalling the incident he’s referring to. “Hey, to be fair, your rooms are right next to each other, it was an honest mistake! And I already made up for it, remember?” 

A few weeks ago, following another girl’s night, you stumbled into Eren’s room by mistake and made yourself comfortable in bed next to him. And almost threw up on his sheets. Luckily, he caught wind of what was about to happen, and he led you into the bathroom, where he held your hair as you began to vomit the results of your excessive drinking. As thanks, you cooked a delicious dinner for both him and Mikasa the following day, complete with his favorite dessert: brownies. Specifically, you’re signature brownies.

Chuckling, he responds, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just teasing you. Good thing you didn’t actually throw up on my sheets. Then you’d be in real big trouble.” The smirk he gives you sends a flutter bellow your belly. 

Mikasa glares at him. “Gross. Stop flirting and get out of here, we’re trying to get ready.”

He obeys, yelling out, “Have fun tonight!” before retreating into his room.

As you finish the rest of your ensemble, your mind is focused on Eren. You’ve known him for nearly ten years now, ever since you and Mikasa became roommates freshman year of college. They weren’t biologically related, Mikasa being adopted into his family from a young age, but they were closer than most blood-related siblings were. The two of them, along with their childhood friend, Armin, were inseparable. And as Mikasa’s best friend outside of this close-knit circle, it was only natural that you became well acquainted with the other two, especially her brother. 

It's no secret that he’s always been attractive. You’ve listened to too many rants from Mikasa about all the different girls he was messing around with in college. She criticized him often for dating fine women without ever wanting to commit to them. These tirades began to fade after graduation. It’s been a while since you heard any news about his love life, but you’re always too shy to pry.

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about him in a romantic sense. He’s always been kind to you, harboring a soft spot for his sister’s best friend. It’s never been more than that, though. You’re certain that’s the only way he sees you. And it’s not as if you’ve ever made any attempts to flirt with him. There’s an unspeakable boundary that you don’t dare cross, fearing the repercussions. Rejection, potential harm to the relationship you’ve built through the years. It isn’t worth it to jeopardize what you currently have. 

Still, there’s no harm in fantasizing about it, as long as no one else knows. Right?

Make-up done, you slip into your little black dress, resulting in another whistle from Sasha. Mikasa twirls you with a smile. “Gorgeous.”

“So what’s the plan tonight, ladies? Shall we play a little game?” Sasha suggests with a devious grin. “Last time, it was drinks. Maybe this time, we’ll do phone numbers?”

“I’m down for that,” Mikasa agrees, adjusting the volume of the music even lower. 

“You in?” Sasha looks to you for confirmation.

You shrug. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong?” 

It takes a while for you to respond, ashamed to admit it out loud. “I never win these things. I rarely ever get hit on.”

“That’s because you’re too shy! You have to put yourself out there!”

You fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t think that’s it. Maybe I’m too ugly.”

“Stop! We don’t tolerate that kind of talk in this household!” Mikasa yells, sitting next to you. 

“I will slap you if you say that again,” Sasha threatens. 

“Not only are you two gorgeous, but you are also great at flirting. I’m just going to be sipping my drink alone while all the men flock towards you. But that’s fine! I’m fine. I’m happy to be a wing woman!”

Maybe it’s the stress of the work week putting you in this bizarre self-pitying state. You’re not usually like this. Or maybe you’ve been hiding it all along. It’s not as if you don’t have any experience when it comes to this. You’ve been on your fair share of dates, none of which have ever panned out to anything serious. Ever since you started working at your current job, you’ve been having a bit of a dry spell, too preoccupied with your career to focus on romance. Tonight, the burden of the past few years is finally taking its toll. 

With your innermost thoughts already laid bare in front of your friends, you confess, “I just wish I could hook up with a guy tonight. Just sex. No strings attached.”

“Well, if you announce it like that, I guarantee you’ll find a guy who’ll want to fuck you,” Sasha laughs. 

Mikasa adds, “Guys are easy. They go dumb if you bat your eyelashes or laugh at their jokes. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is it really? I don’t think I have that power...”

“It’s because you’re too shy! Don’t worry, we’ll find you a man tonight. We’ll make it happen.��

Sasha is the last to get changed, donned in a black dress similar to yours. Before requesting a ride, the three of you move to the kitchen, where you down a few shots of tequila. The burn of the liquor awakens your senses, prepping you for a fun night with your friends and hopefully, a guy to satisfy your sexual needs. 

Sasha checks her phone, groaning. “The surcharge is insane right now. It’s going to be this much just to get to Stohess!” She shows her screen, displaying the ridiculous cost.  

Hiccupping, Mikasa says, “Ah! I got an idea.” 

Stumbling towards Eren’s door, she knocks a few times until he answers, headphones around his neck, an annoyed expression on his face. “What?”

“Can you please give us a ride to dinner? It’s super expensive right now. And it’s only ten minutes away!” She puts her hands together in a prayer pose, pleading with him. 

Glaring, he replies, “I’m in the middle of a game right now.”

Sasha joins in on the begging, standing beside Mikasa. “Eren, please! We’ll make it up to you!”

He crosses his arms, expression softening, slightly amused now. “How?”

The two girls stare at each other, thinking harder than usual because of the alcohol taking its effect. “She’ll cook you dinner again!” Mikasa points to you. “She’ll cook you whatever you want!

You step towards them, yelling, “Don’t just volunteer me like that!” 

He looks at you with the same smirk as earlier. Even in your almost tipsy state, you feel the familiar sensation in your abdomen.

“I’ll only do it if she bakes me my favorite brownies.” 

“She will! She’ll do it!” 

He removes his headphones, throwing on a hoodie before turning off the lights to his bedroom. “Alright, you drunks. Let’s go then.” 

~~~

The three women follow him to the door, thanking him profusely as they strap on their heels. Inside the car, Mikasa and Sasha claim the backseat, while she rides as passenger. While the two struggle to put on their seatbelts, she stares forward, avoiding Eren’s gaze as he pulls out of the garage. Quiet enough for only her to hear, he murmurs, “I guess you’re my passenger princess for tonight.”

“Huh?”

He smiles at her, but doesn’t repeat himself, turning his attention on the road. 

They’ve known each other for a while now, ever since freshman year of college. She was Mikasa’s roommate, and eventually, best friend, aside from Eren and Armin. She’s always had that charming smile on her face, matching her magnetic personality. He never really noticed how alluring her energy was until recently. He’s not sure what changed, but something did. He pays attention to her now. 

Today, he overhears them talking on the other side of the wall. Eren didn’t have his headphones in while him, Connie, and Jean took a break from their game.

I just wish I could hook up with a guy tonight. 

Just sex. 

No strings attached.

These words, coming from her mouth in particular, pique his interest. 

It’s not that he wasn’t attracted to her before. He just never really thought of her outside of being Mikasa’s sweet, innocent friend. All he knows is that they’ve been acquainted long enough to know that they get along well. Sometimes really well, sharing similar humor, music tastes, favorite foods. Little details that used to be insignificant, but now, seeing her in a new light, means something more.

He'd be fooling himself if he says he’s never thought about it. Of course he has. The common trope of fucking your sister’s best friend, it’s a story that’s been written countless times in television, literature, even porn. Is it possible that this fictional cliché can become a reality? The idea floats around in his head as he drives them to the restaurant. Sasha and Mikasa are obnoxiously giggling to themselves, looking at their phones. His passenger joins in on their conversation. “What are you two giggling about back there?”

“We’re trying to find potential candidates for you.”

Eren is definitely listening now. He tries not to smile to himself as she exclaims, “What?!”

“We’re checking out all the guys in the area. Oooohhh, what about him?” Sasha turns her screen towards the front, showing a picture of a shirtless man. Literally just a naked torso, no face at all. “I can message him to meet us at the club after dinner!”

“Don’t!”

“Why not? I thought you were trying to fuck tonight!”

“Sasha!” She buries her face in her hands as Mikasa cracks up. 

“Oh hey! Maybe Eren knows someone he can set you up with! Got any single friends who are down to fuck?” 

Sasha and Mikasa cackle together as she turns to him, expression horrified. “Ignore everything they’re saying, oh my god.”

He teases, “What if I do know someone?”

Mikasa leans forward, now curious. “Who? You better not set her up with Reiner. You know he would eat her up alive.” 

“It’s not Reiner.”

“Then who?”

He pulls up to restaurant, still not answering the question. Sasha and Mikasa hastily exit the car, thanking Eren for the ride. She takes a while longer to undue her seatbelt. He takes this opportunity to say, “Good luck tonight.”

Groaning, she mutters, “I can’t believe Sasha. I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s so embarrassing.” 

“Hey, nothing embarrassing about it. We all have needs.”

“Well, if I fail tonight, maybe you can introduce me to that friend of yours one day,” she jokes. 

“Sure. I can even introduce you to him tonight.” 

She laughs, not fully grasping what he’s trying to say. “Yeah. Right. Anyways, thanks for the ride.”

He watches her exit the car, the hem of her sexy black dress riding up along her thigh as she steps out. Hoping that she does strike out tonight, for his sake. 

~~~

Dinner goes by smoothly, the meal delicious as always, drinks flowing freely to continue setting the mood for the night. The three of you linger at the restaurant for a little while, sipping on more cocktails as you digest your food, preparing yourselves for a long night of dancing.

By the time it’s 10:30 PM, you make your way a few blocks down to Club Paradis, a crowd of people already lined up at the door. Luckily for you, Sasha’s friend, Nic, is one of the chef’s at this establishment when it’s a restaurant during the day. The bouncer, who recognizes her, let’s you all in immediately, without issue. 

Inside, the DJ has already started their set, EDM music blaring through the speakers. The first thing you do is head to the bar. Mikasa, right off the bat, works her magic and has a guy buy the first round. In turn, she also gets his number, starting the little game. 

Sasha manages to charm her way into sharing a table with a trio of men, getting their digits in exchange. Two of them chat with Sasha as the other tries to flirt with Mikasa, leaving you on the side, sipping on your cocktail, as predicted. 

When the dancefloor starts filling up and the DJ begins to play the popular club hits, the three of you abandon the table to start dancing. Throughout the night, more men approach your friends, sometimes dancing beside them or attempting to dance with them. Mikasa and Sasha end up rejecting their advances, deserting the phone number game. The three of you dance until your feet are tired, throats sore from singing along, and heads pleasantly dizzy from the buzz of the alcohol. By the time it’s past 1:30 AM, you’ve forgotten about your desire to hook up, too immersed in having a blast with your friends.

Being the least drunk, you request a ride on your app, Mikasa and Sasha both leaning against you, still giggly, but exhausted. The car arrives, the three of you cramming into the back as the driver takes you to the apartment. Sasha whines to you about fast food, reminding her that there is a frozen pizza waiting to be baked at home.

It’s about 2:00 AM now as the three of you shuffle into Mikasa’s apartment. You immediately preheat the oven before following your besties into the bedroom to start the tedious process of turning down for the night. 

When you hear the distinct beep from the kitchen, you scurry over to pop the pizza in the oven, setting the timer for ten minutes. You continue to remove the rest of your makeup and by the time you’re done washing your face, comfy in your silky, floral-print pajamas, the pizza is done. Resting it on top of the stove, you walk back into Mikasa’s room to find your two friends passed out on the bed, snoring peacefully. Chuckling to yourself, you turn the lights off and close the door quietly, leaving them to their slumber. 

In the kitchen, with the pizza cool enough to touch, you cut yourself a large slice and start eating, leaning against the counter, scrolling through social media with your free hand. The sound of a door creaking open startles you, until you see Eren step out of his bedroom, dressed in a white t-shirt and dark grey sweats. Man-bun in all its glory.

“You’re still up?” you question, mouth full of the bite of pizza you just took. 

“Yeah, I just finished playing with Jean and Connie. The smell of pizza lured me out,” he responds, smiling. 

“Help yourself. Your sister and Sasha fell asleep, so I won’t be able to finish this on my own.”

He cuts himself a large slice, sliding it onto a paper plate that you put out on the counter prior. The two of you eat in silence, you pretending to be distracted by your phone when really, you’re waiting for him to initiate conversation. When you’re finished with the pizza, you open the fridge, craving something else to eat. 

“Are you stealing my snacks?” He’s behind you, closer than he’s ever been before, body pressed ever-so-slightly against you as you inspect the refrigerator. 

You lean forward, sticking your ass out just a little bit. For good measure. “I would if you had anything good. All that’s here are Mikasa’s protein bars and a dozen eggs.”

He chuckles, placing his hands on your waist to push you aside. “You just don’t know where to look.” Reaching his arm into one of the compartments, he conjures a pack of vanilla pudding, handing it to you. In the cupboard above the fridge, he grabs a bag of potato chips.

“Ah, so you have your own secret stash.”

“For drunk munchies. Or even when I’m not drunk.”

“Thanks. This is just what I wanted.” You unfold the bag, reaching in for a handful, smiling.

He leans on the counter next to you, munching on his pizza. “So, how was tonight?” 

“Very fun. I needed that.” You rip the seal off the pudding cup. Some of it gets on your thumb, to which you instinctually stick in your mouth to suck it off. You realize Eren watches you carefully as you do this. Nervous under his gaze, you release it from your mouth with a slight pop. “It’s been a really stressful week at work, so it was fun to have a girl’s night, not worrying about anything.” When’s the last time you and Eren actually had a conversation one-on-one like this? Has this ever happened? 

He grabs a water bottle, twisting the cap off to drink a couple of gulps. When he’s done, he offers it to you. You’ve shared plenty of drinks with Mikasa, but with Eren? This is unexpected. Not wanting to make it weird, you take it, swallowing your fill until you’re properly hydrated, much thirstier than you thought. 

He watches you replace the cap, setting the almost empty bottle back down on the counter. It’s odd being observed by him. You don’t remember him ever paying attention to you in this way. Why tonight of all nights? Edgy from the work week, horny and desperate for an easy release. Why is he acting this way now while you’re vulnerable?

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Hm?”

He lowers his voice, leaning in closer to you. “Did you find a guy to fuck?”

This catches you more off guard, the bluntness of it. Maybe it’s the remaining alcohol still flowing through your body, giving you liquid courage to behave out of character. Maybe it’s your desire to feel a warm body beneath you tonight. Maybe it’s the words he uttered to you earlier in the car replaying in your head that you’re just now picking up on.

What if I do know someone? 

I can even introduce you to him tonight. 

We all have needs. 

Whatever it is, it’s driving you to match whatever crass energy he’s giving off. “If I did, would I be here right now? I’d be at his place, fucking his brains out.”

At this, he lets out an amused hum, smiling. That goddamn smile. Charming, attractive. Dangerous. “Being here with me isn’t so bad, right?” His arm is completely pressed against yours now. All this surface on the countertop free to occupy, yet he crowds you in his space.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you can do for me,” you answer, setting the barely eaten pudding cup on the table. You swallow hard, standing up straighter to muster as much confidence as you can. 

He moves closer, all six feet of him towering over you. “What do you want from me?”

“You told me you know someone in case I struck out tonight. Who is he?”

“I think you know.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you sure?” It’s like asking for permission to cross the line that you’ve avoided this whole time. 

“Yes, absolutely sure,” he confirms, bowing his head down towards you. 

You gulp loudly, heart thumping. “Then make the first move.”

~~~

Without hesitation, he closes the gap and kisses her. He starts off soft and slow, acquainting himself to these lips he’s known for almost ten whole years, but never appreciated until now. How foolish he’s been for not getting a taste sooner.

She grasps at his chest, white tee bunched in her fists as she pulls him closer to deepen the kiss. He never knew how forward she can be. She’s always been shy, reserved. This is a new side of her he’s never seen before, and it excites him. 

Her lips part, inviting his tongue in to swirl around hers. He slides his hands to her waist, thumbs slipping beneath the silky band of her pajama shorts, feeling for the fabric of her panties. 

“Fuck, this is crazy,” he whispers between kisses. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Dragging his bottom lip down with her teeth, she suggests, “Should we go to your room?” 

He shakes his head. “Walls are too thin. Let’s go to the couch.”

They stumble into the living room, feet shuffling against the hardwood floor, clothes tugged on here and there, little giggles exchanged between them as they fondle each other on the way to the couch. He sits down first, spreading his legs wide to display the erection outlined in the fabric of his sweats, cocky smirk plastered on his face. Palms patting the inside of his thighs, he beckons, “Come here.”

She takes her place on his lap, straddling him, skimpy boxer shorts bunched at her thighs. They keep kissing, his hands sliding under her shirt towards her chest. To his delight, she’s not wearing a bra. With a gentle pinch on both her nipples, he squeezes at her tits, still in shock that he’s feeling her like this. He starts brushing her hardening nipples with the pads of his thumbs, enjoying the way she pulls away from his lips to throw her head back in pleasure. 

“You like having your nipples played with, don’t you?”

Biting her lower lip, she nods, gripping his shoulders like reins to hold herself steady for the ride. He brings her face close to his again, lips grazing her ear as he whispers, “Do you ever think about me? Like this?” 

He’s genuinely curious. Now that he thinks about it, there has been an instance or two when she’s appeared in his mind during a late-night quick release. Particularly after seeing her wrapped in only a towel after coming out of the shower whenever she sleeps over. He never thought anything of it, just an innate reaction to seeing a woman almost completely bare. It’s instinct for him to wonder what marvel is hidden underneath if that towel conveniently slipped off. What her naked body, slick and dewy from that steamy shower, would look like in front of him. Or beneath him. Even riding him. 

It's only natural to think of his sister’s best friend, of his friend, this way. Right?

Maybe not. Lost in the jumble that is his psyche, he’s definitely thought about it, and not just once, not twice. Many times, he realizes. Somewhere in the middle of all his other depraved fantasies, she’s been there without him even noticing. Until now. 

This may be a mistake. It might ruin whatever relationship they’ve developed throughout the years. It doesn’t matter though, because all of those worries fade away as soon as she breathes out the answer to his question. “Yeah, I do. I think about you a lot.”

It’s the go-ahead, the green light. They’ve both stepped over the line now; at this point, it doesn’t even exist. She wants this just as much as he does. Nothing else matters except for the two of them, sitting on this couch, fulfilling each other’s shameless needs.

She hoists her top off, breasts completely exposed for him now, his hands still squeezed firmly around them. He takes one and latches his lips to it, sucking hard until it’s taut in his mouth, listening to her whine in ecstasy. With a loud pop, he releases her, brushing his lips along her plump nipple. “You like having your nipples sucked, huh?”

“Mm-hm. Do that other one.”

He laughs softly. “So demanding. So greedy. I never knew you were like this.” 

“I guess the secret’s out,” she says, smiling before kissing him hard on the lips. 

He breaks away to play with her other nipple, causing her to moan even louder. With his free hand, he covers her mouth gently, her wet lips puffing warm breath into his palm. Unable to resist temptation, he teases his fingers into her mouth, pleasantly surprised when she sticks them in farther, tongue licking around his digits. 

Another loud pop as he let’s go of her tit, cursing. He pumps his fingers in and out of her mouth, coating her spit all over him. “You’re nasty. You’re really fucking nasty. Tell me what you want me to do with these wet fingers.”

Still licking at his hand, she muffles, “Touch me.”

Through the opening of her shorts, he slips past her panties, sliding his fingers along her pussy, slick and creamy with her arousal. His cock is unbelievably hard, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants to take his time with her, familiarize himself with her body, memorize each beautiful crevice he gets to explore tonight. There’s no telling what will happen to them after this. He’s taking this opportunity and making the most out of it in case this never happens again. 

Finding her clit, he rubs his middle finger against it, pressing it firm enough to have her trembling above him. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Eren.”

The rasp of his name in that sultry, desperate tone makes his cock twitch. He uses his free hand to start palming his erection through his sweats, thankful that he had the foresight to change into these before he stepped out of his room, knowing it was her out in the kitchen, alone.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just now that he had this revelation. Who is he really kidding? He’s wanted this for a while now. He buried it in the back of his mind because it was too taboo, too forbidden. That just made him yearn for it more. And tonight, it all comes to head. Finally.

“You’re getting so wet for me with just my fingers.” He slides his hand underneath his pants to fist his shaft. “Bet I could make it juicier if I eat you out.”

“Sounds promising,” she smirks, grinding against him. Leaning past his ear, she whispers, “But I want to try something else first.”

His abdomen tightens, anticipating what she has in mind. “What?”

She dismounts him to kneel on the carpet, head positioned between his thighs, staring lustfully at him. “You know what.”

Shifting forward in his seat, he asks, “You want to suck my dick? This fat cock in front of you? Is that what you want?”

“I want to see what all those girls in college were making such a big fuss about.”

He lets out a short laugh, lifting his torso to slide his sweats and boxers off simultaneously, his rigid cock springing free from its confines. “How do you know about my slut era? Did Mikasa tell you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, wrapping her fingers around him, stroking. 

He moans quietly, not wanting to reveal how fucking desperate he is for her. “Were you jealous whenever she’d tell you about all the girls I fucked?”

“Maybe,” she repeats, giving him a soft kiss on the tip, small string of precum connected to her lips. He’s stares at her, capturing a mental picture of this for future reference. 

“Do you wish I fucked you back then?” His curiosity is getting the best of him.

Shaking her head, she answers, “No. Because now, I get to have you all to myself.” Mouth formed in an oval shape, she sinks down onto his cock, the tip completely engulfed in her warm saliva.  

He uses every ounce of willpower not to bust right there. Who is this woman? Where has she been this whole time? And why hasn’t this happened sooner? 

“Fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes. “That feels good. Fuck.”

She blows him, her fist working the base as her head bobs along the shaft, movements in sync with each other to stimulate every fiber of his being. It’s been a while since a blowjob has felt this good. Maybe it’s because it’s her. Sweet, innocent, wholesome her. Or so he thought. The fact that his perception of her has been blown out the window, replaced with the side he’s always secretly pined for. This is what does it for him. 

He keeps his eyes shut for the most part, the sight of her with hollowed cheeks, milking the fucking life out of him, too lewd to watch. When he does, she looks up at him with a twinkling gaze, enjoying it. 

“Fuck,” he moans, a little louder this time. 

She slides off him, hand still stroking his cock, slick with spit and precum, index finger to her puffy lips, shushing him, “Be a good boy and keep your voice down.”

Holy fuck. Any morsel of control he has left is quickly withering away. “I’m going to come,” he tells her, rocking his hips in sync with her strokes. In an instant, her lips are latched around him again. He comes in her mouth, some of it spilling down onto his pelvis. She removes her hand to sink lower to the base, swallowing the rest. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as he basks in the glory of his orgasm, head lolled against the cushions, mind blank except for the euphoria spreading to the rest of his body. It’s only when he hears her giggle that he is brought to his senses. He lifts his head up to face her, observing the naughty smile formed at her lips. 

Grinning, he murmurs, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

She stands up to sit next to him on the couch. “We? Excuse me, but I did all the work.”

Turning towards her, he leans forward to kiss her cheek. “I guess it’s time for me to do my part, then.” 

Lying on the couch with Eren on top, he hastily pulls off her pajama bottoms along with her soaked panties, now completely naked. He takes a few seconds to stare at her, admiring how much sweeter it is to see her like this with his own eyes instead of in his imagination. 

“Quit looking at me like that,” she waves at him. “You’re making me self-conscious.”

“Self-conscious? About what? This fucking gorgeous body you’ve been hiding from me?” he teases, tracing his fingers along her sides, down to the hips.  

“Shut up,” she whispers, turning away. She’s so fucking cute, he can’t stand it.

“No way. I’m not going to stop talking about this beautiful face,” he says, leaning down to scatter kisses all over her cheeks. “Or your soft skin,” more smooches trailing her stomach. “And I definitely won’t shut up about this perfect pussy I’m about to devour.” With that, he spreads her thighs wide to lap his tongue on her clit, hearing her gasp quietly above him, hand covering her mouth. 

Delighted by her reaction, he hums against her skin, lips puckered at her bud, toying with her sleek folds. He flattens his tongue and slides it side to side while he slips his middle finger in her. 

“Oh fuck!” she cries into her palm. He puts his ring finger in along with his middle, thrusting into her while he eats her out sloppily, drool smearing all over her already sticky arousal. She tastes even better than he imagined, her creamy arousal luscious on his tongue, the lewd smell of sex surrounding his nostrils, priming him to go completely wild on her. It hasn’t been long since his first orgasm, but he feels the blood pulsing into his cock, getting harder and harder the more he indulges in her.

He doesn’t want to fuck her just yet. No, he wants her to gush all over his fucking face, and he knows exactly what to do to put her over the edge.

Pulling away briefly, lips and chin shiny with her arousal, he growls, “Sit on my face.”

“What?”

“Sit on my face,” he repeats.

“Are you sure?” She sits up, uncertainty evident in her expression. 

Growing impatient, he guides her on top of him, shimmying across the couch to position himself just right. “Don’t make me say it again,” he warns, hands on her hips, as she mounts his face, her knees surrounding his head. She hovers above him, too timid to do it properly. 

He grips her tighter, shoving her pussy into his face, tongue lapping up her leaking juices, swallowing noisily so she knows just how good he’s drinking her up. His hand smooths over her ass cheek, tapping it lightly. He wants so badly to spank her, punish her for hiding this from him all these years. Discipline her for depriving him for so long. 

“Ride it,” he demands, loosening his grip, letting her be in control. Without question this time, she does, rocking her hips back and forth against his face, pussy dragging on every inch of it. Dousing him, quenching him, smothering him. She’s whimpering now, lost in the heat of passion, fondling her own tits to feel even more as she grinds on his mouth. He’s tempted to jerk off, but it’ll be too much; it’s already enough for him to come untouched. 

In a small voice, she mutters, “Coming.” He sucks on her clit hard until her voice goes a pitch higher, then sticks his tongue into her slit, licking her insides while his nose jams into her sensitive bud. 

When she’s down from her high, she’s gently gets off him, a guilty look on her face as she reaches for the box of tissues on the coffee table next to the couch, handing it to him. He sits up, face even shinier with her cum, and refuses. Smiling, he starts collecting her slick off with his fingers, sucking them clean into his mouth.

She shoves him playfully. “Don’t!” she hisses.

He continues to grin, pulling her into a sloppy kiss. “You taste fucking amazing,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against hers. “So yummy.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” she says, smiling. She toys with the hem of his shirt that he’s still wearing. “Do you want to stop? Or…?”

“Oh, we’re definitely not done yet,” he states, hoisting his shirt off.

Her eyes widen at the reveal of his sculpted chest and abdomen, then down at his stiff cock sprung against it. He laughs, catching her ogling him. “You’re going to help me deal with this, right?”

“Yeah. How do you want me to do it?”

“You tell me, princess.”

She grins at this, biting her lip. “I like that. Princess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Pulling her towards him, he whispers, “Show me what else you like.” 

~~~

You get into a similar position as earlier, you on top of Eren, straddling his lap as he sits against the couch. This time, however, you’re both completely naked and messier than before, all the evidence from both of your orgasms sticky between your bodies. Lifting up, you align his cock with your wet slit, guiding it in slowly. It’s no surprise that he’s robust. It’s even bigger than you imagined, especially as you sink deeper onto it, his girth stretching you more than his fingers could. 

When he’s all the way in, you take a sharp breath, adjusting to his size. He doesn’t rush you; instead, he waits patiently, holding your hips tenderly with his forehead pressed to yours, watching you. You can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of his. 

A few moments of this and you ease up on him. You lift off slightly, then sink back down, repeating this until it’s a fluid motion, whimpering when you feel him reach your G-spot. After a few more deep thrusts, you let out a particularly loud moan, resulting in both your hand and his covering your mouth. You giggle quietly with each other. 

“You’re so fucking loud,” he laughs, gazing at you.

“That’s because you’re fucking me so good,” you respond, riding him faster. You take his hand and guide it to your arousal, begging him to touch you while you fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re bad. You’re so fucking bad,” he growls, sticking out his thumb to massage your sensitive bud. “What happened to my sweet, innocent girl, huh? Deep down, you’re just a naughty fucking slut, aren’t you? Begging to be fucked tonight.”

His obscene words twist around your core, getting you closer and closer to another climax. “Say more dirty things to me, Eren,” you demand, bouncing on his lap, his thumb strumming your clit ruthlessly. 

“Oh fuck, you’re so nasty,” he whispers, panting. “Your cunt is so fucking wet for me, oh my god.” He fucks you, hands tight on your ass, feet rooted into the carpet, couch creaking noisily in the quiet of the living room. But it doesn’t matter because you’re almost there. Just a little bit more.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he spits out, breath hot on your ear. “Acting like a good girl when you’re really just a nasty fucking slut. You know exactly what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you? Tell me.” Sweat beads off your forehead, his eyes animalistic, peering into yours as he rails you.

“You drive me fucking crazy. The way you flaunt yourself in front of me. Teasing me with that innocent smile. You’re just a naughty girl who needs to get fucked.”

“Ah, fuck me, Eren. Fuck me, fuck me! Make me come!” you cry, riding him fast.

“Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming,” he groans, holding you tighter in his arms. His warm cum shoots inside you as you orgasm on his twitching cock. 

He cradles you gently for a minute before asking, “Did you come? Please tell me you did.”

Nodding weakly, face nestled into his neck, you answer, “I did.” 

“Good,” he says, kissing you on your shoulder. “Good.” His arms wrap you in a snug embrace, massaging your back tenderly. 

“Do you think they heard us?” you ask.

“I’m pretty sure Mikasa would have come out by now to kick both our asses, so I think we’re good,” he chuckles. 

Pulling away to face him, you mutter, “Thank you. For tonight. I really needed this.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, grinning. “Always happy to help. You know that you can come to me for anything, right?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends.” It almost seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. He ends it there, still smiling at you. 

You lean forward to give him one more kiss on the lips. “We should probably clean up and go to bed before we really do get caught.”

“Right. I’ll see you in the morning?” He phrases it in the form of a question, like he’s unsure. 

“Yes, I’ll see you in the morning,” you reassure him, extracting your sticky self from his body. 

Without another word, you walk away into the bathroom to clean yourself up and brush your teeth, mind racing with the realization of what just occurred. When you’re done, you exit and find him standing in the kitchen, dressed back in his sweats, waiting for you to use the bathroom. Before you sneak into Mikasa’s room to finally call it a night, you tiptoe towards him and kiss his cheek. “Goodnight.”

He blushes, eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “Goodnight, princess.”

~~~

Eren retreats into his room, ready for a good night’s sleep. He checks his phone for the time; almost 3:30 AM. In bed, he rolls to his side to face the wall he shares with his sister’s room, wondering if his special friend is still awake like he is.

Friends. He didn’t think it through before saying it. It was a spur of the moment comment, one made from nerves and anxiety surrounding the aftermath of their actions. Tonight, they crossed a line that most friends do not. What will happen to them now?

He grabs another pillow and hugs it, wishing it was her. Realizing that he doesn’t want to be friends with her at all, but something else. Something more. 

[storm-angel989]

Heyyy hope you are having a great day! Could I request a Valentino x daughter fic, where the reader had just arrived in hell and he helps her adjust? Thx

-🕯anon

HAPPY WEEKEND! The editing continues (in between adulting of course!)

Enjoy!

It was the smell she couldn’t get used to. 

The scent of rotting garbage that filled her nose every time she stepped out of the V tower- every time she stepped out from under her fathers direct protection. The clangs and clamors, yellings and beepings of car horns surrounded her. It was almost like being home…except, maybe a touch more dangerous. She turned to walk away from the red limo that sat, waiting for her. She had made it this far, after all. 

Her phone rang, adding to the noisy chaos that was the pride ring. Startled, she pulled it out of her pocket and scowled at the caller ID. Of course he knew the second she stepped out of the building. 

“Uncle Vox? What’s up?”

“You left the tower without telling us, everything okay?” Vox’s voice floated through the line. 

Reader rolled her eyes as she scanned the street. “I did tell you- this morning. I have an appointment to get my school uniform fitted, remember? Dad said I have to finish high school…there was a whole discussion…” 

“Your appointment is at noon. It's eleven and it takes ten minutes for the limo to get there. You’re too early.” 

On the other end of the line, she could hear what sounded like the ting of the elevator. Fuck. She was sure he was on his way down.

“Uncle Vox, I was going to walk to the shop. And maybe stop for a coffee on the way, I mapped my route with VoxQuest before I even walked out the door.” 

“You can’t just leave the tower whenever you please sweetheart, it’s dangerous out there. This is a much different world than you’re used to.” 

The dial tone buzzed in my ear and I turned around to see Vox walking towards me. I tried to hide my scowl. Three months. I had been in hell for three months and the lack of freedom felt like chains around me. On Earth I had the freedom to come and go throughout the world as I pleased. People feared me. No one messed with me. Partially because at the end of the day, I was a nobody- just another soul scraping my way to survive. But my arrival in hell shed light on exactly who I was- who my father was. And that made simply existing dangerous. 

My father passed when I was five. My mother before that- in childbirth, or so I was told. I didn’ have very many memories of him when he was alive- and even less so of his two best friends, Velvette and Vox. And none of my mother. All I knew of them is that when they died, they left me alone in Earth’s version of hell. 

I grew up fast, like most kids in my situation. So my early death wasn’t exactly a surprise. But what was a surprise was meeting my father within the first twenty four hours of my arrival in hell. Even more so to be thrust into a life of luxury- a stark contrast from fighting to survive. 

“Ah. Not to mention you don’t know any of the good places in town. Also does your father know you drink coffee? You’re a little young- not that I’m judging.” He continued as he tucked his arm around me. “Come along now, let me escort you if you insist on walking.”

There was a part of me that chafed at the supervision. I was almost a sophomore in high school, and I had been on my own for years. But another part of me, a bigger part of me, relaxed ever so slightly, the pounding fear in my heart, the wonder if I would survive another day melted with each passing week. 

The bell rang as we entered the coffee shop and I crossed my arms uneasily. As I studied the menu I scanned for the least expensive item. I hadn’t actually planned on buying anything. Even with the bright gold credit card I now carried in my wallet, it seemed like a waste of money- an unnecessary luxury- when the apartment never seemed to run out of coffee pods. It was more the warmth, brightness and safety of the shop that I craved. The memories of warming cold hands on hot water filled cups, scraping together pennies to save for an occasional teabag. 

“What looks good to you?” Vox asked. “Their blueberry coffee is killer.”

The uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment settled in my gut. He wouldn’t understand, even if I tried to explain it.

“Just uhm, a small black coffee,” I replied as I shifted my weight uneasily. 

He raised an eyebrow, “you take cream and sugar at home.”

“Yeah but that’s extra and I don’t want…”

He gave me an odd look but reached over and squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. “Why don’t you let me pick something for you? Go find us a spot to sit, your dad should be joining us in a few moments.”

Grateful to be free of the burden of ordering, of the anxiety I couldn’t kick that surrounded paying, I slid into a window seat and watched as the crowd passed by. A few moments later I heard the bell ring and looked up as the tall figure that was my father made his way into the room.

My memory of him alive was sparse, but in death, the man was larger than life. People moved when he walked, listened when he spoke and the fear they emitted around him was practically tangible. I watched as he scanned the room, and when his eyes met mine they practically lit up.

“Bebita, darling,” he cooed as he took the chair across from me, “Vox tells me you snuck out of the tower?”

I felt myself flush, “I’m sorry Dad I…”

“Forgot?” 

He reached across the table and took my hand in his. To my surprise he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I understand, cariño. It must be tough, going from all the freedom in the world to being locked into a cage. Let’s try to be a bit better going forward, okay? Death in this world is far more permanent than on Earth.”

“Yes, Papi,” I muttered quietly as I looked down. 

“It must be strange to you,” he continued. “It was for me, when I first entered hell. For you, it’s an even bigger change. An overnight princessa.” 

I looked up at him to meet his gaze. 

“I looked up where you lived- or at least, where they claimed you lived. The rest of my intel says you ran the streets on Earth. And at such a young age,” he continued. “So to find yourself here- thrust into the lap of luxury and comfort, no longer fighting just to put food in your tummy, that lack of adrenaline rush must leave you feeling as though something is missing.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” I blurted out. “I have everything I ever dreamed of at my disposal. And I…and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Valentino studied me. A moment later, Vox joined the table and slid a steaming cup towards me. 

“This is what I’d like to suggest,” Valentino continued, taking the proffered cup from Vox’s hands. “And what I think will help you adjust the best. Help to ease you into this new life, since what we have been doing just doesn’t seem to be helping.”

The familiar panic settled over me. Was he kicking me out? Was my lack of obedience, lack of adjustment too much for him to deal with? 

“Hey, kiddo, take a breath,” Vox said quickly with a sharp look to Valentino. “There isn’t any reason to worry.” 

“Not at all,” Valentino said with another squeeze to my hand, “I was going to suggest that when we get you fitted for your school uniform, we review the list of clubs and sports that you can partake in. I think getting you involved in something, and establishing a day to day routine will help you adjust.”

“We all have one,” Vox added as he took a sip from his mug. “A routine, I mean. And we well know those survival instincts don’t just go away overnight. Finding an alternate way to access that adrenaline will help you settle in.”

I considered as I took a sip of my coffee. Sweetness exploded on my tongue- sugar and chocolate and cream, all combined into one. It was a heavenly treat, and I almost couldn’t believe it was real. That this was real. I looked out the window for a moment.

“Bebita? Tell us, what is on your mind?” Valentino asked as he studied me, “Please. Speak.”

“I’d like to do something to help. Not everyone who ends up in hell ends up in the life I now can lead…right? There must be some way to give back, to help those who used to be in my..situation.” I said finally. 

Vox and Valentino exchanged looks. Slowly, Vox nodded.

“We can look into that, sweetheart. That could be something we do…together, if you wish?” Valentino said slowly. “It isn’t something we…I…feel comfortable letting you go out and do by yourself.”

“We could even make it a family thing,” Vox added helpfully, “get Velvette involved.”

I could feel myself start to perk up. The more hands that helped, the better, right?

“Yeah, I would appreciate that. Thanks, Dad.”

I saw him smile and I took another drink from my cup, letting the warmth spread through me. 

“We’ll get you settled in, sweetheart,” Valentino told me, “I promise.”

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 17

Description: It's a three-day weekend, so you go out dancing, run into Miguel, and Gabi does her own investigating.

Pt 18

You’re really not sure how you didn’t make the connection between Miguel and Spiderman before. They have the same build, similar voices, they do that same head tilt thing, and they call you cariño, along with a few other heart-stopping petnames.

“Y/N, y/n, earth to y/n.” Janey is waving her hand in front of your face, her bag on her shoulder.

You snap back to reality and scroll past the news footage of Spiderman saving a bus full of senior citizens. “Yeah, sorry, I’m listening.”

“Are you? Because Principal Alan just emailed us saying a water line broke, so school is canceled tomorrow, and I was trying to tell you about it.”

“Really? So, we get a three-day weekend?” You set down your phone, face down, so you aren’t tempted to pick it back up and obsessively search for more footage of Spiderman.

“Yeah, so I’m thinking we go out tonight?” Janey suggests a mischievous expression on her face.

“Oh no, no, are we going to one of those weird clubs where all the drinks aren’t called what they actually are, and the DJ wears a mask or something weird like that?”

Janey rolls her eyes playfully. “I take you to one speakeasy that’s a little weird—”

“A little? Janey, people were having sex just like, on the floor.”

“That is not usually a part of it, that was really weird.” Janey admits, giving you an apologetic smile. “But still, I know this new club, it’s really cool, and not weird at all.”

Janey is a liar. The club is super weird. All the employees are dressed in an odd sequined fabric, the drinks are dirt cheap, the DJ keeps switching up the songs halfway through, and the whole place is housed in an abandoned hospital.

“Janey, this place blows, can we please leave?” You shout over the music, trying to pretend you’re not grossed out by the couple making out on a decades old hospital bed.

“It’s an experience, y/n, just relax, have another drink, if the music doesn’t get better by the time, it’s midnight we’ll leave.”

You look at your phone, it’s eleven thirty now, you can tough it out for thirty more minutes.

“Okay, but you get my drink, and I’ll save our spot.”

Janey smiles and thanks you, then disappears into the crowd.

You sway to the music, watching the others around you. Everyone seems to be having a lot more fun than you. Then the song changes, the bass so loud you feel it in your chest.

Janey returns and hands you your drink. You both clink your plastic cups together and down them.

“Oh, that is so bad, ew, ew, ew, what the fuck was in that gasoline?” Janey crinkles her nose, coughing into her elbow.

Yours was pretty bad too, but you’re used to drinking shitty drinks from your time with Todd.

“Let’s just dance, I kind of like this song.” You say, holding your hands out to Janey and pulling her further into the crowd.

You leave the club right at midnight, pleasantly buzzed but not drunk, and you two share a cab back to your apartments, with Janey promising that next time she’ll pick a better place.

You wave goodbye and take the elevator up to your apartment, smoothing out your dress in the reflection on the doors. Tight, low cut, a gorgeous color, you love this dress because you just look so damn good in it.

Part of you wonders what Miguel would think of it. You toy with the idea of knocking on his door, pretending you need his help with something but think better of it. It’s midnight, Gabi is most definitely asleep, you don’t want to accidentally wake her up and have her see you in a clubbing outfit.

The elevator doors ding, you step out, and run straight into Miguel.

He looks you up and down, then cocks an eyebrow. “Night out?”

You try to subtly tug down your skirt. “Yeah, but it was kind of lame, so we left early.”

His eyes flicker behind you. “We?”

“Janey and I.”

He visibly relaxes and stretches his arms behind his head. “Can’t sleep, thought I’d go for a run.”

Your eyes drink in the bend of his arms, the flexing of his muscles through the long sleeves of his form fitting gray shirt.

You want him bad, so bad you start to open your mouth to say something you’ll blame on the alcohol flooding through your system, then you remember Gabi’s face. How she clung to you crying, how scared she was that you’d never come back.

You can’t mess this up, can’t throw yourself at Miguel just because he’s kind, smart, handsome, a good dad, and he eats pussy like a fucking champ. You have to be smart about this, it’s not just you and him, but you, him, and Gabi. And you will never do anything to hurt Gabi, and you’re sure neither would Miguel.

“That’s too bad, hopefully it’ll tire you out.” You say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes and steady your breathing.

“And what about you? Up for a run?” His voice dips low, and you know exactly what he’s asking.

“I can’t.” You say even as you scream internally, the parts of your brain fueled by lust cussing you out six ways to Sunday. “I’m so beat, and I’ve been drinking, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Miguel scans you once more, then nods. “Take an Advil before you go to bed, I’m making you breakfast, I’ll see you at ten.”

You buffer for a moment. Is he asking you out on a date?

“If you’d like, no pressure.” He backtracks, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sheepish and nervous?

Is Miguel O’Hara nervous?

You step closer to him and brush your painted lips across his cheek, leaving a perfect imprint of your lips, the pink of your lipstick complimenting his tanned skin. “I’d like that. I’ll see you at ten.”

Then you slip into your apartment, flop down onto your couch, and scream into the nearest pillow.

“Lyla?”

“Yeah, Gabi?” Lyla pops into the room, her form dimmed to match the low light of her room.

“Is Papá here?”

“It looks like he’s in the hallway with y/n, do you want me to tell him you’re awake?” She’s sitting beside Gabi’s bed now, a concerned look on her face.

Gabi turns onto her back, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. “No, it’s okay.”

Lyla hums in response. “Anything else kiddo?”

“Can you see if Ms. Y/N is single?”

“Sure, one second.”

Gabi hugs her bear tighter as she waits.

“She is, and it looks like…oh, ya know what, maybe your dad should tell you this stuff.”

“Lyla, come on, I thought you were cool.” Gabi pouts, sitting up in her bed and staring at Lyla’s shifting form.

“Ugh, okay but, promise me you’ll tell your dad you heard about this on the news or something.”

“I promise.” Gabi says, rubbing at her eyes, sleep already pulling at her, beckoning her back to dreamland.

“Todd Jameson, twenty-six, found dead in the Brooklyn River. Apparently, he was pretty scratched up, but that was probably from the stuff that was in the river.” Lyla bites her lip then continues. “Anyways in other news, a water pipe burst in your school, so you get a three-day weekend! That’s super exciting, congrats, kiddo.”

“No school tomorrow, yay.” Gabi yawns and lays back down, snuggling closer to Oso.

“Yep, no school, so just get some sleep, okay? Don’t think about anything but how much fun you’re gonna have with your dad on this three-day weekend.” Lyla urges, her tone soft as Gabi drifts off to sleep.

“Promise me you’ll tell Papá that Ms. Y/N is single.” Gabi insists, fighting sleep like a wild honey badger.

“I will, I promise. Now sleep, three-day weekend.”

“Three day weekend.” Gabi whispers, her head drooping, and her breathing evening out as Lyla dissipates from the room.

Miguel checks his watch to see a message from Lyla.

You couldn’t have been any more subtle with his death, could you?

He chuckles and dons his suit. Looks like he needs to get rid of a body.

Posting this while I wait for my flight bc I couldn’t wait any longer to get it to y’all!!!!

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue

[fxrmuladaydreams]

hellloo! I'm new to your blog and am in love with your work!! Could I request a smutty Lando x reader with prompts 86 and 144? Like it sounds so Lando coded to me, something cute but hot? Or if you only take 1 prompt per request, I'm happy with just 86. Thanks so much for doing this <3

send me thoughts/blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for lando weekend

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, oral (f receiving), face sitting

Lando had been in his gaming chair for a good portion of the day. After being away for a race weekend you thought he’d be eager to spend some time with you. You thought he’d throw his suitcase to the side and he’d have his hands all over you as soon as he walked through the door.

He actually fell asleep almost immediately after coming home, his exhaustion from the weekend catching up to him. It was completely understandable for him to need rest. What was annoying was him waking up the next day and practically ignoring you.

He was testing out a new game, trying to see if it was something they could use for a new Quadrant video.

You’ve tried to pull him away multiple times now. At first it was “C’mon baby, you should rest.” Then it turned into “Let me help you relax.” Nothing seemed to be working.

It didn’t seem your tactic went unnoticed though, as you settled yourself into his lap, trailing kisses up and down his throat.

“Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” He says, his eyes still locked on the screen in front of him. He smirks when he feels you freeze. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Needy girl.”

You feel your face flush as you bury your nose in Lando’s neck, softly biting at his skin.

It takes him a few minutes to finish his game before the tosses his controller to the side and scoops you up, carrying you to his bed. He takes off you clothes, kissing your skin as it’s revealed.

Once he’s rid you of your clothing, he lays with you still fully clothed. He lets you rock your hips against his, the denim of his jeans brushing against you deliciously.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He says as he kisses down your neck.

You make a face, shaking your head. “What? No Lando, I’ll suffocate you or something.”

“That’d be a perfect way to go out, suffocating between your legs.” He smirks.

“Lando…”

“Think of how fun it’ll be. I give you a couple of mind-blowing orgasms, and you let me have my favorite treat.” He gives you a small pout, attempting to break your resolve. “I haven’t gotten to have you for a week, I think I might die if I don’t get to taste you right this minute.”

He senses your hesitation but doesn’t fail to notice the way you grind yourself against him as he talks.

He lays further back so that he’s laying down flat. He softly pushes you up until you’re straddling his chest. “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

You slowly move so that you’re hovering over him, a leg on either side of his head.

“What if I hurt you?” You look down at him between your legs.

“You won’t, I promise.” You don’t look convinced. “If you get uncomfortable at all, just say the word and we’ll stop.”

You nod, and take a deep breath before slowly lowering yourself down onto his face. It feels different, a little odd at first, but as soon as his tongue gets to work all your worries slip from your mind.

Lando wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked against him as you feel yourself ride his face. A hand drops down to tangle itself in his curls, while the other rests against the wall in front of you, keeping you from falling forward.

Lando has gone down on you a lot over the course of your relationship, once even claiming “you were his favorite meal of the day”. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

He’s devouring you like a man starved. This new angle causes his nose to bump against your clit repeatedly as his tongue moves in and out of you.

“Lando, I’m gonna cum.” You whine, rocking yourself against him at a steady pace.

His grip on your thighs becomes tighter, as if you’d be sadistic enough to pull off of him.

When you do cum, he takes everything you give him, slurping and licking away all of you that he can. He only lets you lift yourself off of him slightly, just enough to get a good look at him.

His hair is a mess, sticking out in all different directions. The bottom half of his face is slick with remnants of your release. He’s got a proud, lopsided grin on his face.

“Wasn’t that fun?”

“Yeah, yeah it was.” You smile down at him.

He pulls you back down just as you try to get up. “I promised three, didn’t I?” He asks, his voice slightly muffled.

His tongue is back to work before you can even process his question, ready to pull at least two more orgasms out of you.

[starrayblogs]

Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! or happy holidays~ i hope you all had a wonderful day, and i hope this new chapter is a fun read! likes/reblogs are appreciated, and asks are welcomed c:

tags: @brights-place

✩ previous chapter

v. Keep on Watching

It’s the day of the Secret Holiday Gift Swap.

And you’re panicking.

“Barb!” You barge into the longue room and watch as the mentioned troll shouts, jumps, and drops her invitation. 

“What the- I know I told you you’re welcome anytime, but you can knock-” She tuts when she recognizes that it’s you, bending to pick up her card again.

“I got him!” You pop up in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders and stopping her from picking up her card again.

“Who’s ‘him’?” Barb raises a brow, leaning her head away and tucking her chin to further emphasize her confusion.

You let her go with furrowed brows and a dreaded look in your eyes. “I got Floyd!” You say, out of breath, like you’ve just sang your heart out.

“Wait, what’s wrong with that?” Barb places a hand on her hip, finally having the opportunity to pick up her invitation.

“Uh- what isn’t wrong with that?” You extend your arms and shake your head in quick, short motions. “I’m already having a hard time confronting my feelings for him, now I have to think about him even more!” You exclaim, letting your weight fall on your butt and your back against the couch. 

Barb laughs, taking her seat next to you with her knee up. “Man, I would have never assumed you’d be a softie underneath all that edge. Then again, that’s any of us actually…” She trails off a bit before letting out an amused sigh, turning her head to you. “Seriously though, don’t complicate things too much.” She shrugs.

“Easy for you to say, who did you get?” You cock your head in her direction, watching her open her card.

“I got…” You hum, watching her pull out the name. “Aww, cool, I got Riff! I totally know what to get ‘im.” She smirks confidently, tucking the piece of paper back in the pocket of the card. 

“Good for you,” you quip quickly before catching her attention. “But what do I get Floyd?” You ask worriedly.

“Uhh… Well, what do you think he’s like?” Barb asks. You look ahead of you, thinking back to him.

“He’s… kind. Very kind, it’s like his whole charm. He’s sweet too, like cotton candy. And he’s reeeaaally cool, I mean come on! The hair was one thing, but spending the weekend with him… When he sang, I immediately got hooked on his voice.” You inhale deeply. “It’s gentle. Like the way he speaks to me, it’s like he cares about me…”

“Maybe because he does.”

You swiftly turn your head to Barb with a deadpan look, who raises her hands up in defense before motioning for you to go on.

“Ugh, he’s just! So…!” You plop your head down on the couch behind you, reaching for a pillow behind you and plopping it on your face.

“So… from all that, what do you think is the best gift for him?” She asks again, but you sigh. You remove the pillow from your face and glance at her. “Hey, you’ve got three days to think about it. I’m sure you’ll come up with something…” She reassures you, patting your shoulder.

And you did, but you weren’t confident with it.

You clear the cough in your throat as you hop off your bike, adjusting your guitar strap. You look ahead to Pop Village, seeing all the other trolls and their gifts. “What if you just handed the gift to Floyd and told him I got sick?” You rapped to Barb, holding your gift nervously.

“Dude.” She looks at you with a ‘seriously?’ face. “No. Poppy always said, it’s the thought that counts when it comes to gifts.” She pokes a finger to your chest. “And every rock troll knows how much you thought about this gift.”

Your cheeks warm up a little, and you let out a long sigh. “You’re right, you’re right.” You hop a bit on your feet, telling yourself to relax a bit. You look at the colorful light bulbs hanging across the entire village, lighting up the night, and smile a little.

“Come on, the gift swap’s about to start.” Barb starts walking with her gift in hand, and you follow her to a big stage where Poppy and Branch stand atop it.

“Welcome to our second Trolls Kingdom Secret Holiday Gift Swap! I’m so glad to have you all here again, and with some new faces this time.” Poppy grins, pointing in the crowd and having a light shine down on the pointed area. You see that it’s Viva, her Putt Putt Trolls (which she told you about), and Brozone all condensed in one area. 

The crowd welcomes them with a cheer, but you find your eyes on that pink-haired troll. You chuckle when you notice the piercing in his ear turned into a snowflake to match the holiday. You turn away and look at his gift in your hands, frowning a bit. You look up when Barb speaks.

“You’ve got this.” Her hand moves to pat the place where your heart would be. “Time to let someone new in this, ya know?” She chuckles and you do the same, following it with a whiney ‘yuck’.

“That’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said.” You comment, and she shivers.

“Yeah, I think Poppy’s rubbing off on me.” Barb shakes her hair as if there was dirt on her. “But, you know what I mean.” She smirks, nudging your shoulder.

“Now, who’s ready to gift-swap!?” Poppy announces and fireworks shoot up into the sky. “Reveal your secret troll!” She hypes, and the crowd starts moving to find the person they got (who was scrapbooked on the invitation, conveniently).

Barb waves you goodbye to find Riff, which you return until she’s eventually lost in the crowd. You look to where Floyd was previously, but can’t get a glimpse of him from everyone running around. You frown, beginning to aimlessly walk around the crowd to find him until someone lifts you up in a hug.

“Amiga!” You let out a sigh of relief when you realize it’s Viva. When you’re let down, you turn around and return a quick hug.

“Happy holidays, Veev!” You greet and she giggles, still holding her gift. “Who’s the special troll?”

“Barb! The one you always hang out with, have you seen her?” She tilts her head, pursing her lips. 

“Got separated, but I hope you find her. I don’t think you’d miss that bright red mohawk anytime.” You snicker to yourself. “I like your clothes.” You comment on her white leotard with red trimmings and her matching red-and-white striped leg warmers. 

“Aww, thank you, you too-” she’s cut off with a gasp when she does a double take on your hair. “Did you..?” 

“Yeah…” You run a hand through your hair nervously. “Does it look fine?”

“Fine? Fine doesn’t even cut it, you look amazing!” Viva squeals, looking up at your newly two-toned hair. “Guess I don’t have to guess who you got, hm?” She smirks, raising her brows teasingly.

“Yeah…” You smirk eases into a smile. “Have you seen him?”

“Oh, I got separated from him too…” Viva frowns, which causes you to do the same. “But, I have no doubt you’ll find him!” She recovers, jumping on her toes excitedly. “I have a hunch that this holiday is gonna end up so well~” She sings.

“Can’t hide it from you either?” You raise a brow, tilting your head embarrassingly. 

“I’m your childhood best friend, what is it you can hide from me?” Viva smirks, punching you in the shoulder. “I was the one who came up with the idea to put you two together for the morning last weekend.” Your jaw drops, pointing a finger at her.

“That was your doing?” She giggles and winks, turning her back to you and running off with a jolly ‘see ya!’. “Viva, we’re talking about this later!” You yell into the crowd, hoping she hears that.

Your cheeks flush again as you grumble your way to Branch’s bunker, hoping to wait for the crowd to die down and you’d eventually spot Floyd. You hold his gift gently in your hands, maneuvering through the others who are either still finding their troll or are celebrating with their gifts already.

Once you make it out of the cramped area, you walk slowly to the bunker. You kept your eyes on your gift, overthinking if it was good enough to give to him. Then you hear your name.

You hear your name in his voice.

You turn around and see him emerging from the crowd, holding his gift. “Floyd.” You say, out of breath. Your eyes flutter as you watch him walk closer to you. Both of you are now far away from the noise, just the two of you right outside Branch’s house. Just like how you arrived.

He opens his mouth, but then he notices how you look tonight. You’re still dressed in your usual fashion, but for colder weather. Then his eyes met your hair.

“Oh…” His cheeks darken slightly as he sees what you’ve done to your hair. Instead of the highlight in your hair being your favorite color, you dyed it white in the meantime. Your hair matched his. “Your hair…”

“Yeah… I figured I could rock the look, ya know?” You chuckle, trying to keep up your cool image. When he doesn’t laugh with you, your brows furrow, and you frown as you try to meet his eyes. “Do you… not like it?”

“You look great.” He meets your eyes with a wide smile, and, for the first time, you see both of his eyes. “I like that we’re matching.” He follows up with a soft chuckle.

He’s beautiful.

Your frown slowly lifts into a smile as you laugh softly. “Now we’re both cotton candy.” You joke, and he laughs with you this time. There’s a small pause between you two after it dies until he speaks up.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He smiles at you. Your cheeks warm up again, and your shoulders straighten.

“You were?” You repeat, and he nods. He holds out the gift in his hands toward you. Your eyes widen, and you nearly drop your gift for him in shock. “You got me..?” You look back up at him in disbelief.

“Happy holidays.” He simply says with that stupidly charming smile of his. “I hope you like what I got you.” He nudges the box into your hands, and you reluctantly take it after propping his gift against the wall. 

“If it’s from you, Cotton Candy, I’ll enjoy it.” You chuckle. There’s truth in your words, but you were still putting up walls. You unwrap it and reveal a box. You lift up the top and mutter a soft ‘no way’, tossing the cover to the ground. 

Inside was a guitar strap. You gently take it out and set the box on the ground, letting the strap unfurl to its full length to see its design. It’s a simple black strap, but it’s stitched with several symbols related to rock in your favorite color. You don’t notice how wide your smile has gotten, and it only gets wider when you notice the stitched shape of cotton candy on a cone.

“Do you like it?” Floyd asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“I love it.” You reply, holding it close to your chest. You take off your electric guitar carefully, detaching your old guitar strap for your new one. “I’ll wear it forever. Thank you, Cotton Candy.” You laugh softly, placing your old one in the mess of your hair and wearing your guitar again.

He smiles, watching you adjust the guitar to your back again. “So who’d you get?” He tilts his head a bit, and you inhale sharply as your smile drops.

“Oh, funny you ask,” you chuckle nervously, reaching back for his gift again. “I got… Uh, I got you.” You hold out the present to him, looking away with downturned ears and darkened cheeks. “I hope you like it.”

His eyes widen in genuine surprise. His hands slowly rise to take the gift in your hand, trying to guess what the present could be as he turns it around. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, and I was worried the whole time, wondering if this would make you happy.” You explain, watching him carefully tear the wrapping. “Then, I figured that if you don’t like it, I would dye my hair to match yours to make you happy… If you thought I would look funny or, I don’t know.” You fiddle with your (new) guitar strap.

He stops just as he was about to open the box at your words with a furrowed gaze. “Why would I think you’d look funny?” He asks, upset. 

You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. You shrug your shoulders.

“I would never laugh at your appearance,” Floyd says, stepping closer to you. “I like how you look. I like that you thought about me enough to go as far as dying your hair.” He lets out a small laugh. “You keep getting cooler to me.”

If steam could come out of your ears, you wouldn’t be able to hide how much his words made you feel. Your chest is light again, and your heart is tugging in his direction. Your lips managed to turn into a smile. How can he keep doing that?

He returns to the gift, taking off the cover. “Woah.” He murmurs as he pulls out the gift from the box. You fiddle more with your guitar strap as you wait for more of his reaction.

You got him a rouge-colored acoustic guitar. The sides, fretboard, and soundhole were trimmed white to match. Most importantly, the fretboard was in the shape of a cotton candy swirl and colored both rouge and white. You worked on that guitar for the last two days, getting as much help as you could, but you did most of the work.

“Do you like it..? I wasn’t sure if you could play instruments, and you seemed like a guitar-type guy, so I could teach you-” You began to ramble worriedly until you were interrupted by a few notes played.

You watch him play the guitar smoothly before he stops with a smile, followed by the brightest laugh. “Thank you!” He says, his eyes turned into crescents. “It’s been a while since I’ve played. This is amazing,” he says your name and your worries fly away.

You smile sheepishly, running a hand through your hair for a moment. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

“I love it.” He corrects you, just like you did. You share another laugh together. 

You hold your gifts to each other gently. His hands are careful with the guitar, and your thumb is carefully stroking the stitched pattern of cotton candy on the guitar strap. 

You’re so focused on his smile as he looks at you that you didn’t even process what he said when you saw his lips move. “What did you say?” You blink your eyes, telling yourself mentally to get it together.

“I asked if you’d like to spend the holiday together. It’s the weekend, right?” He tilts his head with a smile.

“Just the two of us?” You ask, dipping your head but keeping your eyes on him.

“If you’re only okay with it.” He quickly replies, his brows raising with his smile growing sheepish. “I was hoping we could play some songs together.” He chuckles, mostly to himself, but your head rises with a smirk.

“Is this some trap to hear me play again?” You chuckle. He hums, shrugging his shoulders innocently.

“I don’t know what makes you say that.” You laugh a bit harder, and his eyes soften.

You aren’t as scary as he thought you were the first time he saw you. He was taken aback by you’re casual compliment about his hair at the cantina, his heart thumping a bit faster from surprise. When he met you again, he thought you were cool and confident, finding himself interested in you. Then you left your guitar behind, and he took up the responsibility to take care of it until the next morning. When he saw your edgy exterior drop when he gave you back the guitar, something tugged at his heart again. 

And it’s tugging at him again, telling him to find out more about you.

“Come on, I recently got my own pod. We can jam out there.” Floyd suggests, and you nod your head as your laugh dies down.

“Ohh, trying to get a VIP rock show, are you now?” You snicker.

“Stop revealing my plans.” Floyd points a finger at you, trying to contain his own laughs by turning around and leading the way.

You breathe deeply as your face settles in a grin. That felt nice. He makes you feel so nice, and you remember Barb’s words. Your grin drops to a hesitant, small smile as you watch him walk. You think for a moment, wondering if you should just take the leap and grasp that happiness right in front of you.

“Are you coming?” Floyd stops and turns around to find you still standing. You blink and fiddle with your strap again, but you make up your mind. Your smile settles softly as you begin to walk up to him.

“Yeah.”

You two walk away together, making small talk on the way to Floyd’s house. You two walk away, unaware of the crowd watching you.

“Are they gone?” One of them whispers from under the mushroom. 

Branch, who reveals himself by dropping his disguise (which was a fluff ball, with the help of his hair), steps out under the mushroom and looks in the direction you two walked off in too. “Clear.”

There’s a pair of squeals as everyone’s hair disguise reveals themselves underneath the mushroom. “We should’ve put a mistletoe on top of them!”

“Woah, too early, Poppy.” Bruce raises a hand with a light chuckle.

“My little rockstar is growing up.” Barb steps away from Poppy, pouting her lip with a hand to her chest. “It’s sickeningly sweet, but aww, but also eww…” She fake gags, which receives a friendly hit on the back from Poppy.

“They’re adorableee.” Viva coos, her hands pressed to her cheeks.

“If adorable, you mean Floyd can’t even recognize his own growing feelings.” Branch rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms.

“Like you were any better.” Poppy smirks, hand on her hip.

“I agree with boytoy over there, though.” Barb raises her arms and dips her head in surrender. “It’s all cute seeing them together, but I don’t think I’m emotionally prepared to be a possible confession dummy.” She contemplates, scratching her ear.

“How long do you think until they get together?” JD tilts his head with crossed arms.

“Oh, I think they’re just like this sad romance book I read where-” Clay starts rambling about his predictions, earning the approval of Poppy and Viva, with the others weirdly agreeing with him too.

✩ next chapter

[acesartemis]

day three of @tommykinardweek -> supernatural creatures

for @dark-alice-lilith

“So, do you believe us now?” Tommy growls a bit after the question due to his current ... figure. He still can't hardly believe it and the fur is quite literally staring at him in the face. 

A whine follows the question from a butterscotch-colored furry figure next to him the size of an honest-to-God, come-to-life Direwolf. Tommy leans over to give Evan a reassuring kiss — lick? — to the side of his face.

A human, hysterical laugh bubbles up from Eddie. “This — somehow — y'all are somehow messing with me. I knew those clams weren't — it's got to be — what bruja did you piss off?”

Tommy doesn't even curb the instinct to bare his teeth at the man. He could easily eat him, if he wanted to. Thankfully he didn't—at least not in that way.  Instead, Tommy decides to head-butt Eddie so hard he falls over. “I knew we should have called Hen.”

Eddie rights himself, still snickering. He clicks his tongue and actually pets Tommy's head and when his hand moves just right by his left ear, Tommy wants to downright howl in pleasure. He's saved the embarrassment by another head forcibly knocking into his—Evan was never one to be left out.

The human of the trio laughs again, only this time it's fond. “Okay, okay. I can't forget about you, Buck.”

Evan positively beams as Eddie gives his ears a scratch, tongue lolling out and everything. It's absolutely adorable. “So, if we're stuck like this... What do we do now? We... don't really fit in a car.”

“Or a house,” Tommy chimes in. He resists the urge to scratch himself with his back... paw. He would not be caught dead doing something so… undignified, even if it were only in front of Evan and Eddie. Especially in front of Evan and Eddie.

“Wait, I got it,” Eddie says with a clap. “I wanted to surprise you both with a ski trip over the holidays, but this… whatever, is more important.” 

He pulls out his phone, typing away with his thumbs. “Okay, so Bobby knows we’ll be out for the weekend. Annnd I texted Lucy to let your Cap know.

“This is so weird; I can't believe I’m gonna suggest this, but… I’ll drive and you two just,” he gestures at their wolf forms, “follow… by running, I guess? ‘Cause I don't think even my truck bed will fit you both.”

“Might as well make the most of it if we’re stuck like this.” Evan nudges Tommy’s snout with his own. “Race ya?”

Tommy gives his boyfriend a playful nip. “You're on.”

🐺🐾🐺

Twin blurs of butterscotch and gray follows Eddie's truck for hours as asphalt and metal and glass give way to grand trees in a breathtaking kaleidoscope of yellows and oranges and reds as they enter the Sequoia National Park area.

Eddie pulls up to a grand private cabin. The land is secluded and, Eddie remembers with a snort, “pet-friendly”. Thankfully a former Army buddy of his pulled some strings so that they could crash for however long this event lasted.

The man follows the path behind the cabin on human legs, happy to find the quaint back area to sit. The sun would be setting soon, bringing with it the chill of the night.

As he watches his boyfriends lope back and forth, legs long and strong and sharp jaws playfully nipping at each other, Eddie is struck with envy. Sure, this was a fever dream incarnate and Eddie still couldn't quite believe the two beings—now howling as the moon and stars come out—were real, there was a part of him that yearned to be out there, wild and free, with them. But he wouldn't let himself dwell on the dark path that was bound to take him on and just relaxed, snapping photo and video proof if this wasn't all just in his head.

—It would be just like his head to think up a grand concept and just... leave him out of all the fun—

Stop that.

Enjoy.

🐺🐾🐺

It was no surprise to anyone that Tommy tired out first. Being an actual wolf matched Evan's nigh-insatiable energy to a tee.

As the younger of the two continued his mission of sniffing every tree about the place, Tommy trots over to their third, grinning a wolfish grin, and gives Eddie a large, slobber-filled lick-kiss. The man startles a bit, his eyes adorably droopy.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you.”  He sidles over to Eddie, laying out next to him. Eddie's fingers find their way into his fur, akin to his fingers scratching through his or Evan's curls when they're lucky enough to get a quiet night together.

“Buck still... wolfing around?”

“Duh.” 

They share a laugh. Tommy tilts his head at him, frowning at the sight of Eddie clutching his hoodie to his body. They hadn't planned for this impromptu trip, much less the weather. LA nights got chilly, but not like this. “Why don't you go inside?”

“And miss all the fun? 'M fine!”

A low whine rumbles in Tommy's throat and he nudges Eddie with his head. “We'll be fine out here, what with the fur and all. The last thing we need is an Eddie-sicle.”

Eddie huffs, “It's not that cold.”

“And you’re not in protective Army fatigues anymore, either,” Tommy counters. They both knew intimately what desert-cold was, and this was far from it. But now all Eddie was geared with was a hoodie. Tommy also knew Eddie had a stubborn streak that would rival a bull when he wanted.

“C’mere, then. I’ll keep you warm.” If Tommy still had his human brows they’d be waggling.

“Hell no!”

“C’mon, aren’t I soft?”

“Yes.”

“And oh so waaarm!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Evy, come heeeere,” Tommy calls, deciding to bring in back-up. “Eddie’s cold and won’t snuggle!”

Evan literally bounds over at the call, obedient as ever, tail wagging and tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth. “Snuggles?!”

“Dammit, Buck, don't you dare!” Eddie warns but is blatantly ignored in favor of Evan (gently) body-slamming Eddie to the ground with his mass in a chaotic mess of kisses. Tommy gleefully joins in, wrapping his larger body around Eddie in equal parts protection from the elements and to ensure he doesn't escape. Eddie tries to wrestle Evan off of him to no avail.

“Okay, okay fine,” he relents with a fake pout, but Tommy is delighted to feel him snuggle back into his fur while Evan shifts to lay his head over Eddie’s body. They cocoon him thoroughly.

The trio are silent after that, taking in the breathtaking view of the clear starry night sky.

They are awoken by their shivering hours later, blessedly three humans again, only now two of them are naked. They high-tail it to the shower.

[faintrustle]

ENTP GOJO SATORU x INFP READER: Cuddles and Kisses

Lying on your bed, Satoru Gojo idly flicked through his phone, occasionally glancing up at the ceiling. He wore a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt, looking comfortable and casual. The weekend had flown by, and it was already evening.

He paid you a visit to your apartment and spent the day relaxing, watching TV, and enjoying your company. He stretched out on the bed, feeling content and comfortable. Hearing the bathroom door open, Satoru looked over to see you entering the room.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your beautiful figure adorned in a pair of light blue pajamas. They were actually a gift from him - a set featuring adorable white cats wearing round shades printed on the cotton fabric. The sight of you immediately captured his attention, and he forgot all about his phone.

Your boyfriend’s gaze traveled up from your feet, taking in every inch of your body, until it reached your eyes. There was a soft smile on your lips as you saw him looking at you, and it sent a wave of warmth through him. He slowly sat up, tossing his phone aside.

"You look—!" Satoru was caught off guard when you suddenly jumped onto the bed, landing squarely on top of him. He let out a surprised laugh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

"Cuddle time!" you exclaimed happily.

Feeling your warmth and the softness of your body against his, he couldn't help but smile. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and nuzzled his face into your hair. He realized that you had interrupted him mid-sentence.

"I was just saying..." he began, trailing off as he kissed the top of your head. "Never mind that. Let's just cuddle." For now, he was content to enjoy the cuddles with you.

“Yey!” you exclaimed like a child who had just been given their favorite candy. Your excitement was contagious, making Satoru grin down at you.

“Is someone happy?” Both of you were lying now side by side on the bed, bodies pressed together. Your head was nestled under your boyfriend’s chin while your arms wrapped around his waist.

On the other hand, Satoru wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer. He could feel your heartbeat through the contact, and it brought a sense of calmness to him. He began to gently stroke your hair, running his fingers through the soft strands as he breathed in your unique scent.

You looked up at his handsome face, your eyes sparkling with affection. "Hmm." You nodded, biting your lower lip and smiling.

"You were away for three days. You don’t know how much I missed you…” you said softly, your cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “That’s why I’m now craving for your full attention…”

Hearing you say those sweet words made Satoru's heart melt. His hands moved down to tightly wrap you around your waist, pulling you upward to his chest.

"Awwh, I missed you too, kitten," he replied softly and affectionately. "But you don’t have to ask for attention. You’ll always get it from me.”

You blushed so cutely that he couldn't resist the urge to cup your cheeks in his hands. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss before moving to your left red cheek, where he placed a soft peck. Then, he moved to your right cheek, repeating the process.

After planting a final kiss on your cheek, Satoru pulled back slightly, his cerulean eyes locked onto yours. A warm smile spread across his face as he brushed a strand of hair away from your forehead.

"Y/n," Satoru breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't even begin to describe how crazy I am for you. Every time I look at you, I fall deeper in love.”

You stared into each other's eyes while your hearts raced in sync. The air felt thick with love and desire. As if time itself had slowed down, your boyfriend leaned in, his lips barely touching yours.

“I love you to infinity…"

With that, Satoru captured your lips in a kiss filled with love, longing, and passion. The taste of him sent shivers down your spine, and you clung to him as if your life depended on it. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roamed over your body, claiming you as his own.

The world ceased to exist as both of you lost in the heat of the moment. Your love for each other was the only constant in the chaos that surrounded the two of you…

OP's Note: Just inserting this song because it's so me for Gojo.