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rainrot4me · 8 months ago

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Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 11

X-Virus x Female Reader - Mutual Masterbation/Voyeurism

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mutual masterbation, accidental voyeurism, stealing, vaginal fingering, jerking off, squirting, teasing, pussy stuffing

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.5k

“Well, don’t stop now. It was just gettin’ good.”

Cody’s job was to examine, to watch.

Trial and error of different concoctions of viruses, syringes and needles always being injected into something for him to study, to watch. It was the only thing he felt efficient at. Behind his hazy goggles, was a whirlwind of onlooking eyes, gathering every detail to jot down or improve upon.

So evidently, it didn’t take long for him to notice his shirts going missing. Worn clothes tossed onto his floor haphazardly, just to disappear the next day, completely gone. To anyone else, they never would have noticed, but Cody did. He always did.

He also noticed when you passed him in the mansion’s hallway how your eyes would hold onto the floorboards, never daring to meet his. Or, the uncomfortable way you tried to leave every room he walked into, Toby teasing him about being ‘too weird to hang out with’. But he knew.

Cody was always busy, swallowed by the work in his lab, you probably thought he’d never have time to assume it was you. But standing in your doorway, arms crossed and tired eyes glaring, you were proven very wrong.

“Cody- I-”

“Oh no, please. Don’t let me interrupt. You’ve nearly taken half of my laundry,” Your face was so red, breathing unevenly as you held your bed sheets up, hiding that glorious view he had walked in on. “-Just wanted to see what you planned to do with it.”

The image flashed in his mind as you tried to come up with some smart answer. He could still see your soaked fingers nestled into your pouty cunt, the palm of your hand bumping your clit as he opened your door unexpectedly. You were quick to hide yourself, but he could still see his shirt hanging loosely on your shoulders, the fabric a little too big for you.

“I- I don’t know what to say…” You’re flushed, refusing to look at him directly and settling your gaze at the end of the bed, heart practically thudding out of your chest. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Mhm. Well, get on with it then. I’ve got work to get back to.” Cody stood unmoving, reaching to shut your door and pop the little lock closed, crossing his arms back. You were speechless, glancing at him but then quickly away, tugging the sheets up further. “What…?”

“It’s my shirt, most of them, actually. I feel like I deserve to see what all the hassle is about.” Maybe he was being stingy, but he just really wanted to see that pretty sight again. Was it his ego getting to him? Or just the sheer fact that you were getting off to him? He couldn’t act like he was interested, the tired demeanor he usually put on faltering slightly when he saw your legs shift under your sheets. “So get on with it.”

He was ready to be told no, to be yelled at and told to leave, and he would’ve- if you didn’t start sitting up… and moving the covers down.

You refused to look at him, cheeks so dark you could’ve been mistaken for having a heat flash, but Cody couldn’t peel his eyes away. You sat back, splayed out in the mess of pillows and sheets that you were nudging out of the way, spreading your legs and-

Oh.

The sight was even better now that you were showing it off to him, bed sheets ruffled around your ankles as you spread your thighs. Your soaked panties were pulled to the side, lying snugly against your puffy cunt that was nearly smeared with your arousal, practically dripping. You closed your eyes, the brunette’s t-shirt hanging off your shoulder as you tried to keep your composure.

Cody was stunned, body rigid as sparks went off in his brain, trying to come up with some sly remark or funny comeback, but his tongue felt so heavy in his mouth. The brunette was supposed to be smart, supposed to know exactly what to do at all times, but right now, watching your fingers tremble as they gripped onto his shirt… He didn’t know what to say.

“Happy?” You huffed, shutting your legs quickly and tugging the covers back up, breathing ragged as you tried to will the man away. It snapped Cody back, tearing his eyes away from your center and back to your face, embarrassment etched on every feature. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed to see it again, he had to.

“Again.” The word was stale, barely a mumble.

“What?”

“Again, let me see.” He spoke up a little, causing you to finally catch his gaze. His fingers were digging into his arm, shifting on his weight anxiously as he dared to move forward, to rip the covers off himself. You were stunned, heart thumping so loud you were afraid he could hear it. “C’mon, woman.”

You fidget under his gaze, so self-conscious of every inch he could see as you began to push the fabric back down, riled by Cody’s sudden show of interest. Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening as you spread your thighs, feeling the gush of your wet pussy meeting the cool air of your bedroom.

This time, Cody doesn’t wait to just see it, he’s moving in closer. You jerk, flinching as his knees press on the edge of your bed, dipping the weight while you clasp your legs back, trying to hide yourself.

“Oh, nuh-uh, don’t get all fuckin’ teasy now.” Cody lets his demeanor abandon, trying to play hard thrown out the window now that you’ve given him what he wants. He feels like he can’t stop, like every wire in his body is snapping towards you.

He had seen pussy before plenty of times in porn, his old laptop giving him a good enough show to get off- but now that you were laid out in front of him, cunt so pretty and wet because of him.

Porn would never be enough, now.

He’s pushing your legs apart, thighs so warm under his cold fingers when you give little resistance. Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Cody hooks his fingers into your damp panties, giving little incentive if you wanted him to; you had stolen his clothes and were fingering yourself to the thought of him- he could do whatever he wanted, now. His eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric being tugged down by his fingers, your legs moving easily as he slipped them off. “I’ll be taking these.” He shoves the soaked fabric into his jeans pocket, smirking with a vengeance as you whine.

“Guess this is what you wanted, huh? You’ll have to forgive me, but wearing my clothes basically means you’re liable, so let me have my compensation, alright?” He’s gripping at your skin, labored breaths from your parted lips as you nod, heart fluttering when he slots himself between your parted legs. His fingers dance on your thigh, feathery touches too light for any sort of friction, but just enough to set your skin ablaze.

“M’sorry, Cody- really… I jus-” He’s shushing you, shaking his head as he watches buds of arousal pool at your entrance, cunt fluttering from being untouched. “Aw, I did interrupt your little session, didn’t I? Guess you should get back to that, right?” Snagging your wrist, he brings your hand back down to your folds, expectant eyes when you don’t immediately start. “Wait-”

“What? Did you forget? I can show you.” Gripping your fingers tight, he holds the two middle ones, hauling the digits lower until the pads of your fingers press against your entrance. He helps you push them in, grabbing your wrist and slowly hauling them in and out, fucking you with your own fingers. You couldn’t deny the rush it gave you, the strange way your gut fluttered as Cody just stared in amazement, watching them disappear into the swell of your cunt.

“Holy hell…” The way you clenched, stomach and thighs tensing every time he pushed your fingers in, it was mouth-watering to see. He wasn’t sure how he had gone this long letting you get away with it, stealing his clothes and hiding away to do this- he cursed himself for not barging into your room sooner.

“Ah- Cody-”

“Is this it? Needed to wear my clothes just to feel like it was my fingers fucking you? You coulda just asked for them, no need to hide.”

You whined, taking the initiative to curl your fingers, pushing against the gush of your warmth and making yourself moan. “Well, maybe don’t barge in on people and I woulda… eventually- Ahn-”

“Maybe don’t be such a thief.” Watching wasn’t good enough now. Leaving your fingers sunk deep and soaked, he probed two of his underneath them, pushing into that tight ring. You gasped out, legs clenching but Cody held them open, nudging his digits inside along with yours.

The stretch was incredible, waves of arousal shooting up your spine with every inch he sunk them in, your cunt fluttering around the swell. In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seem to- hah- not mind so much. ”

“Of course not.” He eyes up at you, your heavy gaze something to be admired when you roll your hips up, huffing when his knuckles pop inside of your heat. His fingers slide in, curling in unison to search for that spot inside you that Cody knew would have your sweet moans singing louder. “It’s fuckin’ hot.”

As he kneels between your open legs, slowly curling and pressing your fingers inside of your cunt, you spot the very obvious outline of his cock straining against his jeans looking painfully hard. Thank you, God, for this man. You stole his shirts out of want, his smell still thick on the fabric that it made you so nauseously horny, imagining it was him touching you all over. You hoped he wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care because nowadays it was the only way you could get off- but thank God he did.

Cody halted his fingers when you began to pull yours out, quiet groans when the empty space was filled back with his thicker, longer fingers pushing their way in deeper to accommodate. “Let me…”

Reaching out the unsteady hand, still glistening with your slick, Cody watches you reach for his belt, gripping the leather and tugging desperately. He begins to finger you slowly, spreading his fingers to stretch you gently, feeling his knuckles slip in and out of that ring. “Fuck…” Reaching out both hands, your face feels so hot, riddled with arousal as you unzip his jeans. He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little so you can tug down his boxers- until he snaps his wrist.

“Such a pretty pussy. All f’me.” He spreads your lips teasingly as he grinds the palm of his hand against your clit like you did, your cunt clenching around his digits like you couldn’t get enough. You palmed at his clothed cock, your wet fingers staining his boxers as he rutted his hips against your hand, focusing on that lewd squelch sounding from your folds.

“Co-” You whine as fingertips come out to circle your sloppy entrance before pushing right back in, thick digits nudging against that sweet spot nestled right at the swell of your cunt, right where the pads of his fingers were buried. Through hazy eyes and weak limbs, a gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Cody’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, wrapping a fist around the base. With a groan, he leans into your hold on his length, pulsing and achingly hard for you. “Fuck, woman.”

His arm strains as he pumps his fingers, your pussy soaked and dripping every time he drags the digits out just to shove them back in again. “Ah! Hngh- Cody, oh my god. Yeah- ngh-” You moan as he starts grinding his palm across your throbbing clit, mindless little movements that have you panting. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing, realized that you were gushing onto your sheets below.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine- all the way to his throbbing erection held so tightly in your hand. “Shit.” He huffs, “You’re gonna drive me crazy if you don’t start movin' that hand, girl.”

Caught up in the overwhelming curl of his fingers, you begin to slowly pump his cock, wet fingers gliding up and down the length. You stop at the head, rubbing your thumb across the divot on his tip and watching as his lips part just a little, a deep breath being sucked in. “Yeah-”

Maybe it was the view, or how pent up he was, but it didn’t take another stroke before Cody could feel his heavy balls tighten, throbbing in your grasp. He had to make you cum, needed to before he blew his load too soon. Your hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into your fist haphazardly.

Now, Cody was fucking you like he had a point to prove, snapping his wrist as he brought his free hand off of your thigh, swiping the digits across your clit while he soaked the others to the knuckle. A startled, strangled moan of his name leaves your lips, the loud sounds of your cunt echoing as you fisted his cock the best you could, fingering the precum that dribbled down the length. “Cody-” You squeal, heat heavy on your cheeks as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

Cody can barely believe it, rubbing deep, languid strokes across your clit as he fucks your cunt, your hips writhing to meet in time with his coated fingers, palm practically full with your arousal. “C’mon, c’mon then- Yeah, yeah- Cum already, woman-”

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-” Your orgasm crashes through you so violently and hard that you see flashes of white behind your eyes. You cry out, trembling as your sloppy pussy squirts all over Cody, covering him in all your sweet juices till his hands are glistening with your slick, dripping down his arms and absolutely soaking the sheets below. It’s so warm, the man moaning along with you as your sweet fingers rub him so right.

And oh how he was entranced. The brunette barely registers his own orgasm, hips faltering as he pumps thick, hot ropes of seed into your hand and on the insides of your thighs, eyes rolling slightly.

You’re both disheveled, his shirt riding up your stomach as he slowly tugs his fingers from your swelled cunt, your whines something he thought he’d only hear in porn. “Fuck.”

He’d let you keep that shirt. Hell, he’d give you every damn item of clothing he owned if it meant he could do this again.

Cody was known for watching, for examining, and he’d happily watch you fall apart like that over and over and over again.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

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baeshijima · 5 months ago

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imagine being a baker stationed in marmoreal market, okhema.

it has been a few months since you first started the business. as is with most, it was a slow start. in the beginning only few took interest, probably curious about the new the dessert shop popping up from seemingly nowhere. you’d garnered a loyal set of regulars, however, who always came for either something sweet to kickstart their day before work, or to treat themselves before they went back home.

in between those times? sparse. but you made it work… somehow.

what it did allow for, however, was the trial and error of new desserts! you can’t always be following the same recipes as everyone else; you have to put you and your craft out there!

…which brings you to now.

“so?” you prod, fiddling with the hem of your apron as you watch mydei chew a piece of the freshly baked golden honeycake. “how is it?”

having mydei in your shop is nothing new. he was the first to know about you wanting to open this shop in the first place, after all — back when you were an aspiring baker and he a runaway crown prince trying to find refuge for his people in okhema. despite his duties as a chrysos heir, he still manages to pop in every day when not away for a mission. how? well, you chalk it up to his sweet tooth and appointed position as your official taste tester.

a pleased hum escapes him; the soft clinks of cutlery rings out once more.

“i prefer your version of the golden honeycake compared to the traditional one,” he comments, taking another bite of the pancake. lifting his gaze to meet yours, a fork is outstretched towards you, a neatly cut square of the golden honeycake skewered on its prongs. “what made you want to change the recipe?”

“oh, that?” arms braced against the small two-person table, you lean towards the fork. a soft sweetness coats your tongue as you concoct a reply. “well, i wanted to make something you would like as a little thank you. you’ve supported me to pursue this dream for a while now. if it weren’t for you…” your voice tapers, eyes softening and lips spreading into an appreciative smile as you meet his slightly widened eyes. “if it weren’t for you, i doubt i would’ve had the courage to make it this far. so thank you, mydei, for being with me during this time.”

“it’s… it’s no problem.” mydei responds after a brief silence, the words briefly interrupted by a swift clearing of his throat as he glances away. “think nothing of it.”

save for your pleased hums, idle comments on new recipes you want to try, and the bustle of marmoreal market just beyond the walls, tranquility befalls your space.

when mydei calls out your name, you halt at the unusually resolute tone. “your efforts will come to fruition. i will make sure of that.”

---

well. sure enough, his words came true. the sight of the shop filled with customers and the long queue trickling into marmoreal market is evident proof of that.

when faced with the sudden influx of customers just two weeks ago, you thought it might’ve been a hallucination concocted by zagreus themself to torment you.

it was only after the thirteenth order of golden honeycake did you start to suspect zagreus wouldn’t waste their time on such a trivial matter on a speck of dust such as yourself. the real nail in the coffin was when you overheard some rather telling chatter between two ladies.

“wow! this modified version of the golden honeycake really is amazing! no wonder crown prince mydeimos loves it!”

“i wonder how they managed to get him to promote it…”

…if you knew having mydei say a few good words about your baked goods would boost your sales exponentially, you would have asked if he wanted to be a part-timer back when you first opened! looking at his withering stare and rather prominent frown as he waits for you to finish your closing shift, however, has you rethinking the choice.

(well, even with him being a prude, mydei would still undeniably draw in customers, so maybe asking him wouldn’t do any harm…)

unbeknownst to you, mydei’s down-trodden mood has to do with the very customers you’re trying to draw in. maybe if he wasn’t so weak to your dismayed gaze and kicked puppy demeanour when a less than satisfactory number of customers came into the shop every now and then, he wouldn’t be feeling so neglected by the attention you’re giving to the crowds of customers now barging their way into your shop.

a subtle grimace flashed across his features. what are they, a bunch of starving dogs fighting to get their meals? don’t they know basic manners? etiquette?

seriously, just until recently it was always quiet in the mornings. it was always just you baking and getting the store ready, and him watching you do your craft, helping out wherever he could — namely in taste-testing said baked goods.

in spite of the part of himself which regrets spreading the word of your talents and having them hog all your attention, the larger part of himself knows you deserve all of this at the very least.

he has witnessed your dedication and continuous efforts to make this dream of yours come true throughout the years you’ve known each other, and it certainly would be no lie if he said you’d weasled your way into his heart. from that day you’d offered him and his people baked goods and drinks upon their arrival in okhema, mydei should have known there would be no escape from seeking you out, ultimately causing this all-consuming fondness for you to grow by the day.

leaning back with a heavy sigh, mydei glances over at the counter where you’re still hard at work. really, your closing hours are soon. should he perhaps stand menacingly at your side to shoo away the customers? no, maybe just directly making them leave would be the most efficient. and—

a torrent of warmth engulfs him, clinging to his skin. mouth slightly agape, he can only gaze wordlessly at your joyful interactions.

…perhaps a few more customers would do no harm. just a few, though.

(curse that heart-melting smile of yours. it truly is the bane of his existence.)

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #mydei x you #was this inspired by the golden honeycake lore where a dessert shop got him to advertise it and it blew up and got other businesses jealous #perhaps #i just thoight it would be cute #also i waS RIGHT ABT HIM HAVING A GAP MOE LIKE WDYM HE LIKES SWEETS AND PINK DRINKS (pomegranate juice + milk) AND TRAINS KIDS WHO LOOK #UP TO HIM LIKE HELLO WTF WHAT A MAN GIMME HIM

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reit0o · 20 days ago

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forgiveness coupon

based on these calebweek prompts 🍎

Caleb prided himself on knowing everything about you: how you liked your hair done up in two braids, the way you like your eggs cooked, how you always saved the best part of your meal for last. It hadn’t always been that way; his early attempts were a constant loop of trial, error and begging for forgiveness.

So when you stopped talking to him for three days—the longest you'd gone without talking— it was as if his world stopped spinning.

It started three days ago, on one afternoon when you were nearly choking on boredom. Caleb was finishing up on a school project and had promised to play with you later.

But “later” felt like forever. So you tugged at his hair, messed it up, pulled at his shirt, and even bit his arm to get him to pay attention.

As always, he relented. So now you were hanging in the air, roleplaying as your favourite hero from one of your shows. You felt weightless, jumping from furniture to furniture. He enabled your aerial stunts, though slowed down to avoid giving you vertigo.

You insisted on making this big jump from the top shelf to the old couch, your stance prepped and ready. But somehow your timing was off—and before Caleb could catch you, your foot hit the edge of the nearby coffee table, and you hit the ground.

The tears came instantly. The pain was nearly unbearable as you tried to move your legs.

But instead of letting him comfort you like always, you pushed him away. You only let Gran in when she came rushing to your side.

He still remembers the expression on your face as the doctors wrapped your foot in a cast.

He watched your heart break into a million pieces when they told you to avoid actvity involving strenuous use of your foot. To you, that meant the school trip you’d been looking forward to all year was now completely out of the picture.

Caleb thought he knew everything about you until you gave him that look.

One laced with anger, disappointment, resentment and sadness.

That was the last time you looked at him before launching into your campaign of silent torture.

You ignored every pitiful attempt he made to get you to forgive him. He bargained: offering to do your chores for a month, giving you first pick on TV, sacrificing his favourite snacks, even offering to be your personal mode of transport. But almost every plan failed.

You would scribble harsh insults about Caleb in your notebook in larger-than-normal letters so he’d see them when he peeked over your shoulder. Things like: “Caleb is a big dumb meanie”, “He's the worst”, or “I’m never talking to him again.”

You overheard him and Gran talking as they cleared the table after you’d refused to have dinner with him. “

I don't know what to do. She still won't talk to me.”

“Give her time,” Gran said gently. “She'll come around in her own time.”

A pang of guilt struck your chest for the first time since the hospital.

He didn't approach you for the next two days, following Gran’s advice. He left you to your own devices—you hated it. At least when he was still begging, he was still talking to you. You weren't used to his silence.

You locked yourself in your room and wept quietly, until you heard a soft knock at the door. A figure stood silhouetted by the light spilling in beneath it.

A small slip of paper slid under your door, and you heard a weary voice followed.

“I'm sorry, pipsqueak. Please talk to me.”

You picked up the card. It was covered in doodles—including a stern-looking apple—and most importantly, scribbled in different coloured pens, the words:

‘Forgiveness coupon for Caleb. Valid for 100 years!’

You wiped the snot from your nose, unlocked the door, and slowly revealed the sheepish boy standing on the other side.

He looked utterly defeated. Still he managed to push out a quiet question.

“Do you want to help me build my new plane model?”

You clutched the coupon in your hand. All your anger had melted away, replaced with quiet relief to be talking to him again.

You nodded hesitantly, then took his hand and followed him into his room across the hall.

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akindaflora · 5 months ago

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Lip Mask

Description: (Established relationship) Chan comes home after tour and can’t get enough of your lip mask and well your lips!

warning: mentions of making out, some grinding, lap sitting, one use of the word saliva, Names used Channie Bang Chan and Christopher, mentions of making a video

Definitely will be blocking no age accounts if your under 18 please avoid this one sorry :)

Author note: Did my best to correct any mistakes and rearranged some of the flow but its pretty much the same as the unedited version! Thanks again for reading. <3

Edited 1/29/25 Word Count: 1,335

It had been a rough, dry day—nothing your skincare routine couldn’t help—and your boyfriend, Bang Chan, was home after the tour. After what felt like years, nothing could ruin your afternoon, not even your boss, who was unnecessarily rude today.

Like always after your shower you dried and changed into some comfy shorts and one of Chan’s many black shirts. Washing your hands you began to first brush your teeth, next you washed your face, then you began applying your face and eye cream and finally you applied your lip mask. When you looked into the mirror you definitely weren’t that far off from a disco ball how shiny your face became.

When Chan and you first started dating you noticed how soft his lips were whenever you kissed or in general constantly not hearing him from you staring at his lips which would be followed by a blush when he called you out on it. Though he was never mad more embarrassed after you would tell him his lips looked absolutely irresistible. But because of that obsession with his lips, when winter came you noticed how cracked yours would get and even had a few days where you wouldn’t kiss him out of embarrassment. To which he would tell you after pouting for days on end, constantly telling you that no amount of crack lips could keep you away. Yet his constant support didn’t stop you from finding new ways to keep them soft and after what felt like weeks of trial and error your lips were finally as pillowy as Chans. Smiling at yourself in the mirror from the memory, you made your way to your living room. Where your boyfriend sat on the couch scrolling through streaming services with intentions to cuddle and watch anything with you. It had been a long tour and he intended to let nothing stop him and you time. At the sound of your feet softly patting on the hardwood floor, he looked up quickly smiling as his eyes met yours.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said with a smirk using one of his hands to pat the seat right next to him, “Come here,” he said quietly as he lifted the blanket specifically for living room cuddles. Quickly walking over you plopped down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. This small jester said everything that he didn't need to put into words. “I’ve missed you too,” you said quietly to which he responded with a soft hum and an arm that softly wrapped around your back pulling you in closer if that was physically possible. “What have you decided on?” You said softly and slightly turned your head to look up at the man next to you. After a while, he didn’t respond, from what you could see he definitely had a few eye bags from all the traveling and touring. You brought your hand up to softly caress his cheek missing the softness of his skin and the warmth that followed. After being away for so long you kept talking hoping to wake up the sleepy prince.

“Mmmm, definitely not horror right? Or maybe you wanna watch a rom-com but we both know how that ends” you said with a giggle as his head leaned into your touch and yet he didn’t respond only taking in the details of your eyes, your cheeks, and your… lips? While he didn’t say anything he did giggle when you did so maybe he was just tired you thought so you kept talking.

“Ooo maybe we could watch the new season of Dr Stone or maybe Solo Level? Felix is featured on the “ You were stopped by a sudden quick peck. And before you could question him it just kept going but only on your lips. Every time you opened your mouth another attack would happen until you finally turned your head to the side in a fit of giggles.

“CHANNIE” you streaked, “stop it I just put my lip mask on” you jokingly complained.

“I’m sorry baby but your lips are just so soft” the syllables of soft coming out more like a whine from his lips. “just one more,” he said after hiding in your neck out of embarrassment.

After what felt like a few minutes but only a few seconds you sighed heavily and replied with a bemused fine.

Quickly he grabbed your face bring your lips to his own. But what was agreed upon as one peck turned into a full make-out session. He grabbed your waist nearly pulling you into his lap his other hand holding the back of your neck as if he were afraid you would pull away. But when your hands slowly crept up from his chest to move around his neck he made home of his hands softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your waist underneath the shirt you wore. Successfully pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips become messy with the mix of lip mask and the saliva that mixed between your contact with his. With the way your soft lips and his touched it was more like a pillow fight as each lip overlapped the other. Soft moans left his and your mouth, as he roughly swiped your lower half to his. You pulled back as the high of the kiss started to feel less like heaven and more like air loss. Your forehead met his with a few pants passing from your lips that met his own as you tried to breathe.

Still sitting on his lap his eyes looking intensely into yours slightly darkening as his lips were brought into a smirk. “Channie you said only one kiss that was nearly a make-out session,” you said jokingly pouting. He only quietly laughed still out of breath but as if your lips were his cure he pecked your lips more between each huff. You giggle but ultimately move your head back as his kisses move to your neck. The soft pillows left heat from his breath as they made contact.

“Channie” you whined out in between giggles still trying to catch your breath. He only sighed in the home he made into your neck taking in the scent of your freshly showered skin. “I’m sorry but your lips are incredibly soft, I just can’t get enough!” His head quickly popped out of your neck to look you into your eyes. Finally able to see his face again you noticed your lip mask making his lips extremely shiny from your little session. Shinny and extremely pink as you assumed yours to be, you moved your hands to either side of his face softly letting your thumbs run across his checks quickly swiping some of the mask that rubbed its way on the outside of his mouth before you went back in for a quick peck. Also not being able to resist now that your favorite pillows had become a shiny treat. A rich smile filled with joy popped onto his face but slowly turned into something slightly mischievous.

“Channie wait no what about-“ cut off again as he swiftly picked you up and laid your back softly on the couch as he lay over you his hands caressing the sides of your body as his lips found yours again. This kiss not lasting as long as the other but nearly as intense left you pouting from the lack of contact, “We can make a movie if you’re so worried about it” he said quickly tucking a piece of hair that lay on your cheek.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks you quickly looked to the left. Jokingly tapping his shoulder with a loud smack, his name coming out loudly from your mouth “Christopher!” All he could respond was a quick laugh as his hand brought your face back to his lips. Yeah this was definitely an afternoon for the books, how could not be just your Channie and your skin routine against the world?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After writing notes: If you made it to here thank you ❤️ This is my first time writing anything like this so i only hope i could do you all justice with this fluff. But i couldn’t help but keep thinking about this moment with Channie specially since I started doing a lip care routine. And i mean come on you’ve seen this man’s lips.

-YaYa

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bangchan x you #bangchan fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan comfort #skz x reader #skz x you #christopher bang #chan x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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joelmillergirl · 6 months ago

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Hot n' Cold

Word count: 4,898

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, creampie, hard/passionate sex, cowboy🤠

Authors Note: It was hot, I wrote smut, what do you want from me.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You had your curtains drawn, shielding your house from the violent light outside. It was officially Summer, and you were already hating it.

Summer had always been your least favourite season, even before the outbreak when you had better access to fans and coolers. Now, finding a fan that wasn’t rusted and broken was rare, a reality you tried hardest not to think about.

You had resorted to laying down on your kitchen tiles, limbs spread out lazily in almost a desperate attempt to cool off. You prayed that someone here in Jackson would be able to get the old air conditioning units working, but given it had been a year of trial and error, you weren’t feeling too hopeful.

With a huff, you sluggishly lift up your arm, checking the time on your old watch. It was just getting into the evening, and with no sign of the heat dimming down just yet, you accepted defeat.

With no energy to do anything, you decided then and there that the rest of your day would look the same, you laying on your floor until it cooled down enough so you’d be able to have a decent amount of sleep. Your plans, however, were rudely interrupted by knocking at your front door.

You lift your head up slightly, eyes training past your living room to the front entrance, “Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan, seeing a blurry figure waiting through the stained glass next to your door.

Only when three more knocks echoed through the house did you grudgingly pull yourself up, almost limping to the front door due to your lack of energy. You were frowning when you opened the door, face to face with your closest friend.

“I know.” Joel nodded, looking almost smug at your unamused expression. “How you handlin’ it?”

If even possible, your face contorted further into a frown, shaking your head slightly at him. “I’m sweating from places I don’t even feel comfortable naming.” You deadpanned, biting your lip to smother a smile.

Joel hummed, his eyes quickly raking over your figure before coming back to rest on your face, “Tommy’s got people working on getting the units workin’”

You interrupt him, “Okay… Joel? Inside, please. The heat is literally hitting me on the face and I’m about to just lose my cool.”

With a nod, he stepped inside the border of your house, gently closing the door behind him. “Do you even have any cool to lose?” He joked.

You glare at him for a moment before going back to your kitchen, slumping down on the floor. “They’ve been trying to get them to work for ages, I will go out there myself and get them to work if I do not hear that thing running anytime soon.” You point to the air conditioning unit in the living room.

“They’ll get it sorted. Don’t think they particularly appreciate workin’ in this weather fixing somethin’.” He said, groaning as he sat down adjacent to you, head leaning back against your fridge.

He suddenly frowned, looking over his shoulder slightly at the fridge behind him, then he was up, knees cracking beneath him as he moved to where you were, nudging you out the way. You looked at him confused. He nudged his head towards the fridge, “Go sit there.”

You complied, moving to sit where Joel had been, an instant flush of cool hit the back of your neck. “Dammit, why didn’t I think of this.” You mutter, pressing your back against the cold steel.

“Heat‘s messin’ with ya, huh?” Joel chuckled, tilting his head slightly. You shake your head in response, gently closing your eyes and untensing your limbs.

You met Joel four years ago when Tommy had introduced you to him. He’d just arrived at Jackson, and you’d been assigned to be his patrol partner which was only supposed to last a couple months, but you’d been such a good duo, Maria had decided to make it permanent.

Over the past couple months though, your relationship with him had seemingly changed. With recent struggles brewing between him and Ellie, you seemed to always be by his side, for his comfort but also your own. You didn’t always have to talk with him, a lot of the time you’d sit comfortably next to each other, doing your own thing whilst he strummed on his guitar.

The boundary line was ever so slowly becoming blurred, feelings becoming confusing. But like a lot of topics that required confrontation, you push it to the back of your mind, adopting the quote; out of sight out of mind.

“What’s got that head worked up?” Joel mumbled in front of you, dragging your mind back to reality.

You looked at him for a moment, blinking slowly. “Nothing.” You plainly say, smiling at him gently before closing your eyes again.

The next day wasn’t any better.

The air conditioning still wasn’t working and your tactic of closing the curtains to deflect the heat, was now failing. Rather than lying on your tiles, moping all day, you had resorted to hanging out in The Tipsy Bison, a cozy makeshift bar in the middle of Jackson.

The only reason you’d packed up the courage to be in such a social setting was due to the cold drinks offered there and most importantly, it had a big fan mounted to the wall that actually worked. It was a step up from how hot you were yesterday, and the drink in your hand was helping to cool your skin.

The leather next to you sunk as someone sat down in the empty booth you were sitting at. You turn your head to your left, coming face to face with Tommy; Joel’s younger brother. “Hi,” He smiled, “Fuckin’ steamin’ out there.”

You raise your eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Steaming?”

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded, leaning over to peer into your glass, “Some people are out there, sweatin’ their gooch off, trynna get air working for lazy folks like you.”

A pair of women next to your booth look over at his words, eyeing you and Tommy down. You quickly look away. “Can you not speak like that in public?” You huff, close to speechless.

Tommy laughs loudly, finding himself hilarious, but suddenly his demeanour changes and he turns to you with a serious look. “So… How’s Joel?”

You look at him for a moment before answering, “He’s your brother, ask him yourself.” You’re silent for a second before you smile, “Why’re you here bothering me? Go get the air working.”

He shakes his head, a smile spread wide across his face, "Just have to get out the heat for a fuckin, minute. Saw you here... Haven't talked for a while."

"And the first thing you wanna do is ask how your brother is?" You ask, tilting your head slightly at him.

He looks away from you, sucking in a breath, "Feisty."

“Tommy, if it’s not cold in my house tomorrow I’m gonna kill you.” You warn, a warm breeze filing through the cracks of the windows.

"Jesus, woman." Tommy says, shaking his head slightly, “Venom.” He stands up and adjusts his jeans, “Every word you spit at me is laced with venom.”

You laugh gently, gesturing your head towards the front door, "Go work some more." You watch as he walks away, an unexplainable pit in the bottom of your stomach. You avoid the stares coming from the booth again.

People talked a lot in Jackson. Usually it was all rumours, secret words whispered behind a hand as you walked by, it brought a sense of familiarity back, considering they were acting like they were in high school again.

They noticed things, could see the little things, like how you and Joel were always together, seemingly always just alone. You supposed it gave them a sense of familiarity too, finally being able to talk about something other than the end of the world.

Sometimes it made you feel good, knowing other people could see Joel was focused on you, watching as he turned down other women just to talk to you. Aside from the odd insult you’d hear every now and then, you weren’t bothered by the rumours.

On your way home, you decided to stop by Joel’s. The side gate was unlocked, the hinges creaking quietly as it gently banged open and closed. Hot wind. Adding onto the heat. You could hear him before you saw him, the gentle strum of his guitar, a low hum. You round the corner, stopping by the edge of the house to watch him, a smile tugging at your lips.

He sat in a chair he made himself on his back porch, he’d made you a set also, specialised carving in the wood. He had a leg crossed over the other, his foot jerking to the beat of the song he was playing, you vaguely recognise it being a Pearl Jam song. His hair’s getting longer, you can see the curls at the base of his neck, greying slightly.

You step up the little steps up to the porch, the floorboards under your feet creak, Joel flinches slightly, looking over at you. “Sorry,” You smile, brushing out the fabric of the dress you’d thrown on, “Keep playing.”

He shakes his head slowly, gently lifting the guitar off his lap and placing it by his side, “No free shows here.” He smiles at you, leaning back in his chair. “So… Cooling ain’t on.” He’s trying to rile you up.

You roll your eyes, moving closer to him. “Don’t remind me.” A gust of warm wind blows past, a shiver of annoyance rushes through your veins. You move to the railing, the wood burns your hands for a second, having been exposed to the naked sun for so long.

The chair creaks behind you, heavy boots thumped closer until he was standing beside you. You watched as he moved to grab onto the wood, he too flinched back slightly at the contact, you smile. “Ellie…” Joel starts, “Think she’s warming back up to me.”

“That’s good, Joel.” You can hear him breathing, deep and calm. He looks down at you and you look back, “I’m glad.” You add, stepping sideways slightly to bump into his side. You stayed at his house until the sun had set well past the horizon, different constellations appeared back into the clear, dark sky. Only then did you decide to go home, praying to yourself as you walked back that someone had fingers lucky enough to get some cold air working.

You’d always heard about ‘the third time, the lucky charm’, and you’d never given it much thought. But today, you decided you didn’t believe in it, because it was the third day of this mini heat wave, and it was even hotter.

The sheets were damp beneath you when you woke up. Thin sheets, minimal clothing and the open window had done nothing to help aid the temperature; you were at your breaking point, further being pushed when you discovered the air conditioning had still not been fixed.

You tried to remain grateful, understood that the people working on it had limited supplies, that they too had to endure the heat, and the pressure to get it done. Feeling bad for your frustration over something they could not control, you made some lemonade for them all, bringing over a jug and some empty cups to where they were stationed. A small good deed to redeem your attitude.

“Fucking heat.” You mumbled to yourself, wiping your hands on your dress, stepping up to your front porch, reaching for your door. Before you could open it, someone cleared their throat behind you, making you jump.

Joel laughed, moving up the stairs to meet you, “I scare you?” He looks down at you innocently, waiting for you to answer him, a little curl falls in front of his face.

“Yes, Joel.” You huff, opening your door aggressively, “You scared me.” You step inside, waiting for him to walk in before closing the door.

He shrugs off his shoes, leaving them by the entrance, “It’s actually cooler outside.” He points out, moving into your living room.

“I don’t even want to think about that.” You shake your head, brushing past him to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. “Reckon we could sit out the back?”

Joel nods, gratefully taking his glass from your hand, “Lead the way.”

Your porch was small, a perfect size, filled with plants, two chairs and a little rug underneath. Joel went straight for his usual chair, sitting down with a grunt. You vacated the chair next to him, leaning back with your glass nestled in your hands.

Joel was silent beside you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoning out into your small backyard. You followed his gaze, admiring the wooden fence surrounding your home. He and Tommy had built it for you after you’d complained for a week straight about the old rotted wood that once stood there, now you were blessed with privacy you’d once had years ago. You’d never kept your promise to pay them back with some of your cooking, you suddenly remembered.

A flicker of movement catches your eye, a small, grey bunny slips through a crack in the fence. You tut under your breath, shaking your head. Joel’s body moves; he’s laughing. “Don’t even start. It’s barely a crack, I’m not bloody fixin’ it.”

“I didn’t say anything!” You laugh back, but your eyebrows furrow slightly as you take in Joel’s posture. His smiles faded again and he’s back to zoning out. You nudge him gently, “What’s up?”

He suddenly stands up, placing the glass by your feet, it’s only then you noticed he hadn’t had any of it. He goes to your railing, leaning over it. “It’s gettin’ harder. Every day, I’m fightin’ it, and I don’t think I can anymore.” He starts, leaning his head to the right slightly, making sure you could hear every word. He sighs, “Don’t think I want to anymore.”

You place your own glass down, standing up to join him. “I don’t understand.” You see him hesitate, his body tenses slightly, you can hear his jagged breathing. A warm wind blows past you both, you watch as the trees sway gently in it.

Joel looks at you then, turning his whole body towards you. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this isn’t mutual.”

You watch him quietly, almost taken back at his forwardness. “Joel…”

“No.” He interrupts, taking a step closer, “Tell me this isn’t in my head. I mean, fuck, baby. I love how we are now, but god do I ever wish it was something more.”

A conversation you’d fought so hard to push to the back of your mind, words you’d dreamt about saying, planning out the best sentences to say that would articulate your feelings best, yet you stand in silence. Something inside you tingles, something deep in your stomach that travels up your body to your head, something goes fuzzy. Then you’re moving to him and closing the space between you, your hands moving to hold the back of his neck as your lips connect to his. It’s sort of an awkward angle, your head tilted back to be able to reach his face, you’re almost on the tips of your toes.

He takes a second to react, his hands awkwardly hovering by your sides as you first press your lips against his. As you moved to pull back having sensed his hesitance, Joel reached out. His hands move to your back, pulling you back to his chest tightly, firmly pressing his lips against yours. You feel him harden against your abdomen and he moans into your mouth with exhilaration, teasing his tongue against yours.

You worry for a second, worry that things were moving too fast. You’d spent years pent up, hiding your deepest feelings and forcing yourself to keep your hands away from him, but with every little movement, every spark sent through your body, your worries slowly started to vanish. As his hands move down your back to fondle your ass, you finally decide you don’t care.

He squeezes the flesh between his hands, slapping it gently before he pulls away from you, looking pained as he does so. You watch him carefully, waiting for his next move. “Can I taste you?” He asks gently, his hands moving to ball the fabric of your dress. He spoke the words with such softness, such innocence, you faltered, almost uncertain if he meant what you were thinking. His fists tighten further, pleading with you with his eyes.

You take a gamble and nod, you think you’d like whatever he meant anyways; he doesn’t wait another second. He gently moved you backwards, your back pushed up against the railing of your porch, using it as a stabiliser as he moved down to his knees. “Careful.” You mutter, acknowledging the tenderness and soreness he often experienced with his aging body.

He doesn’t respond, instead, he bunches your dress in his hands and shoves it up, exposing your cunt hidden by a slightly damp pair of underwear. You reach down and hold your dress up, clutching it tightly as he brings two fingers up to your clothed clit, rubbing it gently. The sensation tears a moan from your throat, your fingers tightened around the fabric of the dress. As Joel slowly circled your clit, you doubled back and remembered that you were outside, you’d have to try and be quiet. Joel, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, he probably found it to be a competition. ‘How far can I go without informing the entire neighbourhood I’m fucking my best friend on her porch.’

He finally tugs down your underwear, leaving it hanging by your ankles as he gently spreads your knees further apart. He was taking his time, you noted, savouring every second. You didn’t have any patience for savouring. “Please.” You moan, one of your hands let go of your dress to move to the back of Joel’s neck, pulling him closer in between your legs. “Just do it.”

You could see him debate with himself for a second, tease her more or give in. He decided to do the latter. He looked as desperate as you felt as he gripped the sides of your thighs, looking up at you once more before he connected his mouth with your clit. He used his tongue in replacement of his fingers, circling your clit as he used the rest of his mouth as a suction. You jolted in place, mouth strung open and eyebrows furrowed together as he worked his way through your body. You could feel every movement his tongue made, the slow pressure of release in your abdomen quickly built its way up, finally forcing another moan from your throat. You tightened your hand around Joel’s hair, tugging the curls at the base of his neck, eliciting a deep groan from him.

You knew you weren’t gonna last long, not as he moved one of his hands to play with your clit as his mouth moved further down, his tongue pushed into you slightly as he fully engrossed himself in you. His other hand rotated between holding your hip and moving back down to your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his palm, the sensation somehow pushing you further into euphoria. You take your hand away from his neck, moving back up to your dress, you let go with your other hand, moving it down the base of your body to where his hand was resting on your hip.

When he felt you hold onto him, he adjusted your hands so that he was holding yours, fingers gripping you tightly as his mouth moved back up to your clit, his other arm moved around to the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth. He was moaning gently into your clit, you could feel the vibrations pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your orgasm took you by surprise, arriving so suddenly you could hardly think as your legs began to shake and your fingers gripped so tightly around Joel’s hands, he winced. You don’t know how loud you were being, your senses were all out of whack. The high seemed to last forever, your clit throbbed gently. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the slight tremors in your legs not ceasing even after he’d slowly moved backwards, away from your cunt.

“Fuck.” He whispered quietly, admiring you once more before he hauled himself up, giving you no time to react as he crashed his lips against yours, pulling you so tightly against his chest you struggled to breathe. “Fuck that was sexy.” He muttered against your lips. Resting his forehead on yours for a moment. Behind you, you could hear a back door open. The sounds of a quiet hum dragged you back to your senses, you’d forgotten to stay quiet.

“Inside.” You mumble, dropping your dress back down and pulling up your underwear. He closed the door behind you when you walked in, you were still trying to catch your breath. It was hot inside, hotter than it was outside; your hair stuck to the back of your neck. Joel approached you quietly, brushing your hair away from your neck with the back of his hand. He laid a gentle kiss there, when he pulled away you could still feel his lips on your skin.

You pulled your dress up over your head, leaving it to drop down next to your feet. You stood before him in nothing but your damp underwear. Joel inhaled deeply behind you, his hands hesitantly reaching out to turn you around. His eyes immediately dropped down, taking in every feature, every curve. You could feel every callous on his fingers as he moved his hands down your shoulders and over your breasts, teasing your nipples gently for a moment before moving back up your body, where his hand ghosted the front of your neck.

He tugged at his shirt then, pulling it off his body before moving to his jeans, his fingers fumbling with his belt. You smiled at him softly, brushing his hands aside and helping him out of the material. It was your turn to stare now. You traced your finger along every scar splattered across the length of his body. He watched carefully as you did so, bringing his hand up to your cheek. After what seemed like forever, you retracted your hand back to yourself and started moving backwards towards the couch. Joel followed you wordlessly, not taking his eyes off you.

When you reached the couch, you gestured for him to sit down. He complied easily, leaning back into the couch, just watching you. You moved to stand between his legs, your nipples hardened further in anticipation. Slowly, you moved down and took your underwear completely off, throwing them somewhere behind you. As you did so, Joel moved to take his off, leaving you both bare and vulnerable. It seemed as if your body was moving on autopilot, everything started to seem so unreal. As you stood before him, his eyes wild and desperate, you found you couldn’t really remember how this had happened so fast.

Was it just a buildup of hidden emotions? Or had something happened that made him snap? You breathed in deeply, debating with yourself. Telling yourself that you could still back out. Label what happened outside as two lonely people who got desperate. You caught yourself, pushing those thoughts to the back of your head. That’s not what you wanted to do, you couldn’t understand why you were fighting against it so hard. You recognised a glimmer of fear within the thoughts. Fear of opening up to someone, maybe.

Joel called your name softly. You blinked, focusing back onto him. “Stop thinkin’ so much.” He said, sitting up a little straighter. “If you don’t want this, that’s fine. Don’t freak yourself out ‘bout it.” You furrowed your eyebrows, you did want it. You blinked again, internally scolding your brain for a second before you moved forwards. You straddled his lap, knees resting on either side of his thighs, your hands rested on his chest. He looked at you silently, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“I do want this.” You whisper, “It’s just new.” Joel nodded slowly, leaning back into the couch. You smile softly, your fingers subconsciously trace patterns on his skin. It was getting harder to ignore the warmth in your lower abdomen, you could feel yourself getting wetter for him, more desperate for him. He was in the same boat, his cock lay firmly against his stomach, the tip of him a deep pink. You reached between your legs, grasping him firmly in your hand. He was big, for a second you hesitated, it had been a while.

“We’ll take it slow.” Joel grunted, leaning his head back for a moment. You gripped him tighter, slowly moving your hand up and down, causing a deep moan to slip out his mouth. You teased him like that for a little while, watching his reactions curiously. After a few minutes, he leant his head back up to look at you, “Enough.” He practically growled. You smile at him in response, finally lifting your hips up slightly. You both watched as his cock slowly slipped inside you, small moans of pleasure and release sounded out into the room. The initial stretch hurt, you had expected it but it still caused you to completely stop. Joel stayed still until you were ready to keep going.

After that you didn’t need to stop. Even if you did have to, you weren't sure if you could. You were fully sat on Joel’s lap, his cock nestled deep up inside you, his pubic hair brushed against your clit as you slowly circled your hips. Joel was gripping your hips so tightly, you could already feel them bruising, with every move, a small moan or grunt huffed from his lips. A couple minutes had passed of the slow circling, you had passed the point of desperation. With a slight sigh, you adjusted yourself so you were leaning more of your body weight on your feet before you slowly lifted yourself up the length of his dick, then abruptly sat back down, the sudden movement had Joel moaning loudly, his hands moved to the bottom of your ass to help you bounce up and down continuously.

You fucked yourself on him hard, your ass connected with his thighs with a satisfying noise, your moans increasingly getting louder. At one point, you leant back slightly, resting your arms on his thighs as you continued to move on top of him. Joel took this opportunity to play with your clit again, his movements precise. You could feel sweat accumulating on your back, the hot environment mixed with this, you didn’t care. Not when Joel moved forwards in what looked like an uncomfortable manner, desperately connecting his lips with your breasts. “Fuck, Joel.” You gasp, feeling his teeth graze against your nipples.

So caught up in the feeling of Joel inside you, you almost missed the sound coming from behind you. You faltered in your movements to try and listen out for what you’d barely heard over the sound of your own cries, Joel immediately sat up, his hands moved to your waist. “What is it? Are you okay?” You quickly shush him, furrowing your eyebrows.

Then, a wooshing sound was heard and a cool breeze suddenly followed, flowing over your skin and cooling you instantly. You look at the air conditioner, a new little green light you’d never seen before was on. “Oh.” You say, now completely still in Joel’s lap. You were about to say something, but before you could, you were being manoeuvred around, taking the breath away from you. Joel lay you on your back, still sheathed fully inside you. It seemed that any sense of patience and tenderness had disappeared, instead, a more unforgiving and relentless version of him came out, he fucked into you hard, harder than you could ever expect from such a careful man.

You threw your head back, wrapping your legs around his hips as he thrust into you, grunting in your ear. One of his hands moved up to palm your breast again, squeezing it roughly before he let go and moved further up your body, resting on your throat. His movements faltered for a moment, his eyes shut close before he resumed the pace. Grunts were replaced with soft moans, almost whimpers as his hips collided with the backs of your thighs. You barely had time to warn him, you managed to let out a strangled moan as you came, your body tightening around him. He came quickly after you did, his body practically collapsing against you as he shot his cum deep inside you, his heavy breath heating your skin.

After a little while of him on top of you, whispering sweet things into your ear and kissing you gently on your neck, he sat up. You followed, glancing behind you at the air conditioning unit. “Thank fucking god.” You mutter, shaking your head.

#joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel smut #joel x reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou smut #joel the last of us #tlou hbo

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cherrygarcia-07 · 13 days ago

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What It Means To Be A Dad // Spencer Reid🧸

Synopsis: Spencer Reid has never had the best example of fatherhood, ignoring Father’s Day every year it rolls around. As he navigates life as a single dad he finds himself beginning to discover the joys of fatherhood over lazy mornings and evenings spent doting on his son.

Characters: Single dad! Spencer and his son, Sebastian

Genre: Flangst?? hurt?? fluff?? its complicated❤️

Notes/Tags: Father’s Day fic yayyy! Lots of sad talk about his upbringing, no1 William Reid hater, lots of Spencer being the best dad in the world!!!!! Happy ending!!! Lots of cute father son content!!! Rename his son in your head if you want to but I chose it for a reason mentioned at the end :3

Word Count: 3.8k

Masterlist If you enjoy this please reblog it helps so much!!

(btw i proofread this 1000 times but new typos keep materialising so please lmk if you spot any lol)

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Father’s Day had never meant much to Spencer. Maybe it had a little, a long, long time ago. There was a time it meant loneliness and longing, hate and hopelessness, but eventually the feelings dissolved into nothing at all. Until the day was simply a number on the calendar that held no weight. His relationship with his father had always been something miserable, somehow empty yet loaded with unspoken feelings at the same time. He had no memories to speak of, no anecdotes to tell with a smile on his face or traditions to recreate with any future children, only memories of the way he felt- and they were not good.

Spencer could recall seeing happy families on TV thinking they were purely fiction until he would sit alone at the park’s chess table and would find his gaze drawn to fathers pushing children on swings, letting their children eat their ice cream despite having one of their own, walking hand in hand besides the park’s pond with their sons. He would sit and watch in silence, shaky hands lingering over the abandoned chess pieces until he would have to force his eyes away to quell the unexplainable aching in his chest. After that the feeling would be forgotten, shoved far down into his psyche where it couldn’t climb back up- shut away with a lock and key if it had to be. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in fantasies, he was far too smart for that.

He didn’t know why he craved it so badly. Spencer didn’t enjoy his father’s attention. It was the kind of attention that suffocated you- that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to speak once it was over. Maybe it wasn’t his father specifically that he wanted, but just somebody. Anybody. The men he saw in the park or on TV, perhaps. Anyone who could treat him like the child he was and tell him stories and jokes as they tucked him into bed, or taught him how to look after himself so he didn’t have to figure it out for himself later in life when every trial and error felt like failure. Anyone other than who he had.

A child should never be the one making the effort and he knew this but he didn’t care. He worked hard in school, brought home grades in subjects far beyond his age range to give his father something to brag about. Report cards that weren’t looked at or pinned up on the fridge but he poured his blood and sweat into regardless. He wrote a paper once about how the offspring of macaque monkeys sought out the attention of their fathers, initiating interactions and seeking support from them despite paternal care being more or less non existent within the species- not that William ever read it. His son’s brain was beneficial to him, sure, when it came to boasting about being a good father, but in private when he snapped at Spencer’s statistics or told him to speak normally with an exasperated sigh he realised he really just wanted him to be like every other kid.

One year Spencer tried to make him a Father’s Day card, like a normal kid would. He stole a couple of colourful pens at school, promising himself he would return them, and stayed up late the night before huddled underneath his duvet with a small flashlight between his teeth as he worked. On the inside of the card, he recited quotes from father-son poems he’d found on his last trip to the library and when he was done he tucked it gently inside an envelope before carefully writing on the back of it. He crept out of bed, silently making his way to his father’s study to leave the card on his desk- he didn’t want to give it to him in person. He found it weeks later, exactly where he left it on the desk. Unopened.

That was the last year he tried, and one of the last years his father was around for him at all.

As an adult, Spencer forgot about Father’s Day every time it rolled around. It was odd, others thought, that the man with an eidetic memory who could recall every niche holiday on any international calendar didn’t spare a thought to it. To him it made perfect sense. After all the words had lost all meaning, they weren’t anything celebratory anymore and they never really had been. Where others conjured connotations of warmth and joy he felt nothing but cold and hurt. It felt like a hypocritical holiday, why celebrate someone who brought you into the world against your will and abandoned you long before he physically left the house?

Speaking frankly, his concept of fatherhood was skewed. His anxieties stopped him from even considering a family, too afraid of repeating the mistakes that hurt him or even just of the fact he had no idea what to do. He didn’t know how to be a father- he was never taught. Behind the grown up facade he put on he still felt like that young boy on the inside, clinging to any older man who showed him the slightest of care and painting them as a make shift dad to appease the fantasies he still had from long ago at that chess table in the park.

So when he unexpectedly became a father himself, his whole world was thrown.

At first he was overwhelmed, terrified even. He second guessed every choice he made and doubt infected his mind like a plague every time he couldn’t get his son to stop crying. It didn’t matter how much logic told him babies cry, Spencer, every tear from his tiny eyes felt like they were drowning him and all he could hear was the muffled voice of his own father above the water telling him he wasn’t cut out for this. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his son, in fact it was the opposite. He loved his son so much- so fucking much- that the thought of messing him up paralysed him. The thought of becoming his own father kept him up at night and cursed his subconscious when he finally fell asleep. He knew every statistic on paternal relationships and the chaotic ways they manifested in their son’s development and as much as he tried to forget the numbers they wormed their way into his dreams until he woke up in tears. Every time he looked at Sebastian’s face he saw himself- as a baby, as a child, even as an adult, all of it and every time he saw himself he saw his father, a ghost haunting him every time he braved the mirror.

After a little while and with a lot of support from the BAU Spencer began to find his rhythm. Instead of dwelling on the chaos of his own upbringing he began to dedicate his heart and soul to making sure his son had only the best and never felt a fraction of the same hurt that he did. The memory of the letter his father haphazardly left behind when he gave up clung to him like a leech, the memory of when he left a boy to become the man of the house. He learned to take care of his mother alone before he could learn to look after himself. Because of this Spencer began to write letters for Sebastian. Long, heartfelt letters about anything and everything in a beautiful hand bound journal (or a few of them) beginning from the day he was born and he intended to keep writing them long into his adulthood. Pages and pages of inky handwriting detailing precious memories big and small, any minuscule thing Sebastian did that made him smile, laugh or cry was documented as permanent proof of just how much he was adored so that he never had to doubt it for a second.

Sebastian had his own personal library curated for him, on short child-height bookshelves lined up beside Spencer’s shelves so that they could read together. Gorgeous cloth bound children’s classics and fairytales took pride of place in any room they could fit in, and the two of them often scoured local bookstores and libraries for new additions to their nightly bedtime story routine. It was Spencer’s favourite part of the day by far. Sebastian would be cosy in his pyjamas nestled drowsily into his side with his teddy bear tucked under his arm as he fought to stay awake, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm the same way he always saw his dad do when he was tired. Spencer’s heart would melt when he heard the sleepy sighs become soft snores, tiny fingers instinctively curling into his sleep shirt and every time he would consider falling asleep right there in the cramped little toddler bed, not caring about the knots in his neck in the morning so long as it meant he didn’t have to leave his son alone. He treasured the mornings that would follow, the two of them curled up on the couch together in matching pyjamas watching cartoons in peaceful silence. They would munch on cereal or pancakes they had made from scratch, Sebastian’s teddy tucked up in his lap as he sat sprawled across his father’s.

Spencer didn’t care whether or not his son inherited his brains, in fact a part of him hoped that he wouldn’t so he could spare him the complications that came with it. Of course he was passionate about intellectual stimulation and began teaching him how to play chess or how to solve crossword puzzles on lazy Sunday mornings over breakfast, he bought him books about every topic under the sun and got his hands on every kid friendly documentary he could find- but he would never push him more than what he was comfortable with. Spencer nourished all of his interests the same, be it the history of dinosaurs or simply whatever his favourite cartoon was at the minute, but he couldn’t deny the childish excitement he felt when Sebastian began to show an interest in space. As soon as his son had mentioned it, there were glow in the dark stars creating constellations on the ceiling above his bed, posters of the planets lining his walls. He remembered thinking that the beam his son wore that day when he stepped into his bedroom was so bright that we didn’t even need the sun anymore, that the twinkle in his wide wonderstruck eyes was so luminous that we may as well strip the stars from the sky. With some help from Penelope, Spencer had tracked down every planetarium, every space exhibit, anything even remotely related that he could indulge his son in and he planned to take him to every single one.

Spencer also loved more than anything to watch the creative cogs in Sebastian’s brain turn and develop as he grew. It was so fascinating to see how his brain operated so differently yet so similarly to his own and it brought him indescribable joy to watch his son discover his own identity without boundaries. He let him dress himself most mornings, heart warming and laughter spilling whenever he waddled out of his room in a show of colourful outfits and in mismatched socks that mimicked his father’s. Sometimes when an outfit was particularly farfetched he would suggest some subtle changes, but he never discouraged him. He never diminished that spark. He reacted to every scribbled drawing like it was the world’s greatest masterpiece (because to him they really were simply just for the fact they were Sebastian’s) and each piece was immediately awarded a place on display- when the fridge had gotten full Spencer opted for taking down all of the artwork on his walls in favour of his son’s. Ever so intrigued by his creative process he would ask him to explain each drawing, grinning ear to ear as he listened to him babble his response as he proudly clutched his work in paint-covered hands.

Perhaps one of the most healing things about his own fatherhood journey was the excuse to just be childish for the sake of being childish, doing all the silly things nobody did for him and that he never got to explore himself having always been held to a standard far higher than that of his actual age. Growing up he had always taken pride in his maturity, believing him being strong beyond his age was the right thing for his parents yet not really sparing a thought as to whether it was the right thing for him. He’d locked the feeling away as a child, but as an adult he looked back and felt a wave of emptiness wash over him and he never wanted his child to have to feel that way. After one cosy weekend morning cuddled up together in the living room watching The Muppet Show, Spencer found himself roped into putting together his own puppet show with all of Sebastian’s stuffed animals, not that he minded in the slightest. Still clad in his pyjamas, bedhead unbrushed and with a goofy grin on his face he scrambled to make the coffee table into a makeshift stage, hiding as low down behind it as his tall frame would allow him to while still being able to peek over the top to watch the joy on his baby’s face. For every silly voice and terrible dad joke told through a teddy bear or a toy puppy he was rewarded with the sound of his son’s wild giggles, a sound he could never get enough of no matter how many times he heard it. After the first couple of shows Sebastian decided he wanted to join in, and so the two of them sat side by side crouched behind the coffee table performing to no one and laughing until their cheeks ached.

Being a single parent was still tough, but he couldn’t imagine his life any other way. He did everything in his power to make sure his son always felt loved, even through the inevitable times they would clash over the years. He made sure despite it just being him and his dad that he never felt like anything was missing the way Spencer had even when his own dad was still around. It was hard but he played the role of both parents the same way he had done for himself when the responsibility fell on him so long ago, caring for his son the same way he had been left to care for his mother except this time it felt right. The team were his village; they were always offering to babysit for him- especially Penelope (although he rarely took them up on this, he hated to be away from Sebastian even for a couple of hours), Hotch allowed him to work from Quantico as often as possible instead of travelling alongside the team and there were plenty of occasions he’d been allowed to bring him into work on admin days (much to the teams delight, he made the day go much faster), and of course they were constantly checking up on him and making sure he was okay through it all, after all he was still their baby brother. It warmed his heart to know that despite their circumstances his son had a whole family of people who loved and adored him and would go to the ends of the earth for him the same way he would.

With Sebastian still being so small on Spencer’s first Father’s Day, the day hadn’t even occurred to him, in fact there were plenty of days the fact he was somebody’s father at all was hard to believe in itself. It was only when he received a string of ‘happy Father’s Day’ texts from the team that he even realised and the reality of his new life hit him like a brick. It knocked the wind out of him, chest hollowing and breath shallowing but not in the same way he was used to, blown down like a house of cards by a gust of anxiety. This was different. This was disbelief, surrealism- love. A staggering wave of love crashing over him faster than he could brace for it but he didn’t mind at all, he simply succumbed to it with a doting smile. He was a dad. Sebastian’s dad. Agent, Doctor, non of the titles he’d carried with so much pride all these years could even hold a candle to that. He spent the rest of the day with his baby in his arms just watching him sleep, listening to the soft coos that spilled out of his tiny pursed lips as his eyelashes fluttered gently against his rosy cheeks, the grin on Spencer’s own face never once faltering.

For the next few years whilst Sebastian was still so little, Father’s Day became like a second birthday for him. Spencer spoiled him with with attention, celebrating him for changing his life and giving him something to hold onto throughout the horrors of his work days and for giving him something to come home to that made it all worth it. As far as he was concerned, just the fact that his son existed was as great a gift as he could ever wish for. He didn’t need a day to remind him how lucky he was because he had never forgotten, it was the first thing he felt in the morning and the last thing he thanked the stars for before he fell asleep. With every toothy grin, every cherubic bloom of laughter, every tiny hand in his, Sebastian was healing him.

The first year that he was old enough to participate was a day that would forever be spotlit in the gallery of Spencer’s memories forever. Like always he had no plans to celebrate himself, preparing to spoil his son rotten the way he had every other year- but Sebastian had other plans. The night before, he had come home from a rare babysitting night at Penelope’s house, the two of them acting secretive as she dropped him off in a way that had Spencer intrigued (and slightly concerned). In the morning when Spencer woke up his son was already lingering in the open doorway, too-long pyjama pants trailing on the floor slightly as he swayed back and forth on the balls of his mismatched sock clad feet. He was holding something in his hands, but the sleep still clinging to Spencer’s vision blurred whatever it was. With a yawn and a raspy voice, he called him over, scooting along the mattress to make space for his tiny frame as he climbed into bed beside him, messy brown hair flopping over his eyes as he did so.

‘Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.’ His small, sleepy voice whispered as he held out what he had been clutching against his chest.

Spencer froze for a second, touched all the way through his chest down to the aching centre of his heart. His breath caught in his throat, gaze locking on the wide brown eyes staring up at him as he took the envelope from his hands. He held it delicately, gracefully as if he were handling porcelain, tears already pricking his eyes as his fingers traced over the word ‘daddy’ scribbled as carefully as a boy his age could. As he took out the card and opened it, a mountain of glitter spilled out onto his lap, pulling a surprised giggle out of the two of them.

“Aunt Penny says glitter is essential.” Sebastian explained, adorably slurring through the pronunciation of ‘essential’.

Inside the card was a poem, wrote neatly on penciled-in lines to keep the writing even. It was nothing spectacular, nothing genius or revolutionary, nothing that Spencer’s own father would’ve spared a glance at. But it was Sebastian’s. His own thoughts, his own words, his own feelings crafted into art just for him- and for that it was the most incredible thing he had ever read. For a moment he thought he would never read another poem again, he didn’t need to. Spencer’s lip quivered as he re read the words over and over again, honoured that his son trusted him enough to pour his heart out on the page instead of quoting other people’s as he had done in his own card all those years ago, too scared to be vulnerable in a letter that wasn’t even opened. Before he could stop it, a tear rolled down his cheek and almost instantly a sleeved hand beside him reached out to wipe it away, causing the tears to keep rolling as the pride of raising such a caring child overwhelmed in. He thought about the card that he’d made that was left unopened and ignored and swore that he’d frame Sebastian’s and keep it displayed forever.

Spencer knew that William kept tabs on him and he wondered in that moment if he knew he had a grandson, he wondered if he even cared. He couldn’t help but hope that he didn’t, he hadn’t earned the privilege of even knowing of someone as pure and perfect as Sebastian. He wondered if William noticed when Father’s Day rolled by or if he ever even noticed it back then when he was still pretending to be a father. Spencer wrote a list after his son was born of every way his father had failed and hurt him so he could be certain he never repeated his mistakes. He wanted his son to grow up to be the man he’d made himself, not the man his father abandoned. He wanted to make sure his son was like him but only the good parts, never the bad. The parts that were held up by the love of his mother, by the support of his team and by the newfound sureness in himself- not the parts of him broken down by a man who never cared.

William. ‘The protector’. Ironic. Spencer scoffed whenever it crossed his mind, the only thing William ever protected was himself. Sebastian. ‘The revered’. Adored. That’s what he was, with every fibre of Spencer’s being he adored that boy with the kind of overpowering love he didn’t even know existed until he saw that sweet, sweet face for the first time.

As time went by, Spencer started to lose the ghost of his father’s face haunting him wherever he caught his reflection. Now, when he looks in the mirror all he sees is his son, the coldness in his features fading away until all he saw was the familiar warmth he saw in Sebastian.

‘There are lots of ways sons defeat their fathers’ Hotch had once said during a case. Spencer vowed to make sure his son never felt like he had to.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dad spencer reid #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x reader

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pellucid-constellations · 11 months ago

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Trial and Error (5.5) - Bonus

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: ~700

Warnings: azriel's pov, fluff that will make you explode probably idk

a/n: Hi so I'm crazy and needed to write this after getting asks about it and getting inspo surrounding Az singing night court lullabies to Mel. Please enjoy and I'm sorry for two posts in one day 😅

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel was back in her room the moment he heard the call.

He’d placed Melanie down in her bed only ten minutes prior, but her sleep had been fitful and disjointed over the past day and Azriel hadn’t expected her to stay down for long. It was strange—the way the bond connecting him to you burned with the same protectiveness for Melanie.

“Hey, Melanie,” Azriel whispered, kneeling beside her bed with his fingers resting on the outer edge of her quilt. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

Melanie sat up in her bed with a small groan, the braid you had put in her hair earlier in disarray. “Yeah. Don’t wanna sleep. Where’s mommy?”

Azriel hummed and pushed a wild curl behind her ear. “Mommy’s sick, so she’s sleeping. Like you should be.”

“You aren’t sick, Mr. Azriel?”

“No, I can’t get sick like you. Not right now, anyway.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed and her head swayed. “Can you hold me like mommy does?”

Azriel’s heart shattered in his chest at her request. Her sleepy eyes blearily stared up at him as he let out a shaky breath and attempted to push down some of his joy at her request.

Maybe you didn’t fully trust him yet, but Melanie did.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he replied, reaching out beneath her arms to hoist her up. When her head immediately found a home in the juncture of his neck, Azriel melted. “Are you feeling any better?”

Melanie fisted Azriel’s shirt as he situated her against his chest. “Little bit.”

Sometimes, when she spoke, Azriel could hear you in Melanie’s voice.

He wanted so badly to be part of that connection.

The want often scared him.

“Can we go to mommy’s room?” she asked, pulling her head up to send him a sleepy question. “Not to wake her up. Mommy’s room is just nice.”

The two of you always sought each other out—always found safety in being near.

Azriel rubbed Melanie’s back and nodded with a smile that was fueled both by adoration and melancholy.

Your room was dark when he entered. Melanie had taken a glance at your sleeping figure and then rested her head back into the crook of Azriel’s neck. He could feel each breath she took and felt each clench of her fists into his shirt.

“Is this better?” Azriel asked, voice so low and careful he wasn’t sure if the five-year-old would hear him.

But Melanie nodded and whispered back a small confirmation that made Azriel’s chest hurt. He held her closer to his chest and watched the rise and fall of yours as you slept an arm’s length away. When Melanie’s breathing didn’t even out after a few minutes, he placed a hand behind her head and started lightly swaying.

“You have to try and sleep, Mel. That’s how you get better,” he whispered into her ear.

“I’m trying,” she whispered back, strained and trying to keep quiet for her mom. “It’s hard, Mr. Azriel. My head doesn’t feel good.”

Azriel tutted and hated that there was very little he could do for this illness. “I know, Mel. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Her only response was to bury her face further into his shoulder.

Azriel thought back to his youth, to the perils and hardships he had endured, and he sought after the light—the good moments. His mother’s singing stood out, the melody of a Night Court lullaby gently lulling in his mind.

Azriel didn’t have much experience with children other than Nyx, but, with Melanie, that didn’t seem to matter. With Melanie, everything came to him with a practiced ease that didn’t feel deserved. But he took from it anyway.

So, Azriel began to hum the lullabies from his childhood, wrapping a wing around the child in his arms to block everything else out.

And she was able to sleep.

part 6

#azriel x reader #kinda lol #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel series #azriel fluff #dad azriel #<33

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misspygmypie · 11 months ago

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What's That Brush For?

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes Summary: Lando is fascinated by your morning makeup routine :) Words: 765

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with fascination as you meticulously applied your makeup. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow that made the whole process feel even more intimate. The Brit had been standing there for a good five minutes, observing you while you were pulling your hair into a high ponytail, without saying a single word.

As you had moved on to doing your makeup for the day he just kept watching, mesmerized, as you skillfully blended foundation and brushed on eyeshadow with precise movements.

“Wow,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice tinged with awe. “I never realized how much goes into this. What’s that brush for?”

You watched as he picked up the little tool and looked at it wide-eyed, bopping its soft bristles with his index finger before bringing it up to his eyes and inspecting it closely.

You glanced up to your boyfriend. “This is a blending brush. It helps smooth out the eyeshadow so there are no harsh lines in between the colors.”

Lando nodded, clearly enthralled by the whole situation. “Can I try? I mean, I probably won’t get it right, but it looks like fun.”

You smiled at him, amused by his enthusiasm. “Sure, give it a go. Just be gentle and please don’t poke my eye out, I kind of still need it.”

“Shut up, you muppet, as if I was that clumsy…” he gave you a sour look and you chuckled, remembering some moments he definitely had been that clumsy.

As he carefully tried his hand at blending the different powders on your eyelid he asked, “Does it always take this long? I feel like I’m messing it up.”

“Practice makes perfect,” you reassured him, watching as his concentration intensified, his tongue now poking out of his mouth making him way more adorable than should be allowed. “It takes time to get the hang of it. And don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” you ensured him after a quick glance into the mirror.

He looked at the result and grinned, a mixture of pride and humor in his expression. “This is really cool. I had no idea it was such an art form. How did you learn all this?”

You laughed softly, appreciating his genuine interest which is something you never would have expected. But then again, this was Lando and he always was full of surprises. “A lot of trial and error, plus some tutorials online. It’s like anything else, practice and patience.”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. “Maybe I should start learning more. Who knows, I might end up being a makeup artist on the side.”

You chuckled at the boy next to you. “You never know. It could be a fun skill to have. But don’t quit your day job just yet.”

He grinned, returning to his spot by the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the frame. “Fair enough. But if you ever need an assistant, I’m your guy,” Lando announced proudly, pointing at himself with his two thumbs.

“Thanks, Lan. I might just take you up on that offer someday. You know,” you said, applying a bit of highlighter with a deft hand, “makeup can be a lot like racing in a way. It’s all about precision, timing, and a bit of creativity.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? I never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah,” you explained, smiling as you looked at him. “Just like in racing, you need to have good technique and an eye for detail. And there’s always room to experiment and improve.”

He nodded thoughtfully, clearly processing the comparison. “I guess it makes sense. And I suppose the same principles apply, practice makes perfect.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “And it’s all about having fun with it, too.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Well, I definitely had fun. Thanks for letting me try it out. Maybe next time we can swap skills, I'll give you a few racing tips if you show me more about makeup.”

“Deal,” you said, laughing. “Looking forward to it. But how about a cup of coffee first?”

“That can be arranged,” Lando smiled and gave you a quick kiss before he headed out into the direction of the kitchen.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you tidied up the bathroom counter, feeling a small bit of excitement about what had just happened. It was one of those small moments that made you appreciate Lando just that much more and perhaps you soon would learn something new about his world too!

#ln4 x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando fluff #lando fic #lando x y/n #lando norris x y/n #landonorris #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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pink-and-pearls · 6 months ago

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Thanos as a Boyfriend (Headcanons)

A/N: While watching the second season of Squid Game I was almost convinced that I would hate Thanos, that his spontaneous rap and flirtatious behaviour was just annoying. As you can see I quickly chewed up these words as he does not want to leave my mind. As an attempt to deal with this fixation I’m writing headcanons. For the sake of these headcanons I’m taking him out the Squid Game setting into a daily basis one. Thanos is a Scorpio and I’m a Scorpio myself who came across a lot of scorpios, to say the least, I believe I could have an idea of how he’d be like in a relationship. Please keep in mind that this is based solely on my imagination but I try to keep it as close to his character. Enjoy and don’t hesitate to share your thoughts!

He is the kind to have a passionate all-consuming love. He'll look at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen, and a relationship with him is going to be so intense it might actually scare you sometimes.

Thanos's impulsive nature shines through in his romantic gestures. He's the type to spontaneously purchase gifts that remind him of you. This also applies to his flirtatious behavior, surprising you with compliments even in the most mundane moments, like early mornings when you're still in your pajamas and unbrushed hair.

He'll surprise you with a late-night street food tour, showing you his favorite hidden spots, or create a playlist for you.

Beneath his serious exterior, Thanos has a playful side that comes out in his interactions with you. He loves to tease and joke around, using humor to lighten the mood and keep things fun. Whether it’s playful banter or light-hearted jokes, he knows how to make you laugh and create a joyful atmosphere in your relationship. This playful teasing helps balance out the intensity of his personality, making your time together enjoyable and full of laughter.

Don’t let his bad boy facade fool you, Thanos's background as a rapper shows his remarkable linguistic skills making him quick-witted and articulate. One of his love languages is words of affirmation, freely expressing his love, admiration, and gratitude for you. It’s no surprise that he uses pet names and is a straightforward flirt. This makes him a great source of support for partners who struggle to vocalize their emotions.

Thanos's protective instincts run deep and frankly he gives older brother energy. He's wants to know about your whereabouts and who you are with, making him overprotective. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, he's quick to intervene and he takes pride and satisfaction from making your safety and comfort.

Despite his own struggles, Thanos is a very supportive boyfriend. He vocally supports your dreams and offers tangible help when possible, finding joy and admiration in your passion and resilience. In return, he appreciates your support of his rap career and wants to make you proud.

Beneath Thanos's confident exterior lies an emotional vulnerability man. His substance use and confrontational behavior stem from unresolved pain and struggles. And he is not proud of it, while he may present an insolent facade to the world, it masks deep-seated insecurities and emotional turmoil. It’s very hard for him to open up, and it will take a lot of time for him to do so. Little by little he will open up, while he likes the care you provide, he doesn’t want you to think of him as weak.

This one might be hard to see, but Thanos is naive. Not in the sense he isn’t street smart, but more in a raw way. He has vices and can certainly manipulate when needed, but underneath that exterior, he's fundamentally vulnerable. His complicated relationship with his parents meant he grew up without proper guidance, essentially learning life's lessons through trial and error - and not always successfully. If you're perceptive and patient, you can help redirect him, he'll resist at first - he's stubborn to his core - but deep down, he genuinely appreciates someone taking the time to understand and guide him.

Physical intimacy is very important for Thanos. He thrives on hugs, kisses, and simple proximity, and he is a very passionate man. Despite claiming he is not a soft boy, he craves tender, tactile connection. Whether it's a soft kiss, an enveloping hug, or just sitting close enough to feel each other's warmth, these moments of physical intimacy are where Thanos feels most human.

#squid game #fanfic #writing #fiction #thanos squid game #player 230 #fanfiction #choi su bong #choi subong x reader #thanos x reader #player 230 x reader

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dreaming-of-lu · 1 year ago

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Imagine being the spouse of Link. Seeing the good, the bad and the ugly throughout it all.

Most would think it would be a joy being with him; just for his looks, the fame, the money, etc. Reality, it's none of those since you know him so well. It did garner unwelcome attention on you at first, but you learned with the help of him to not let them nerve you nor sway you. Being called all sorts of names was not pleasant at first, yet your Link would stand behind you with a displeased frown on his face and sending an anger glare to the person/s.

It's typically trial and error in this relationship; that you did learn much about. It's definitely not some sort of fairy tale bliss where everybody is happy and living in joy day to day.

There would be days where he didn't want to be around anyone. As much as he loved entertaining the kids in the village, he just needed to away from them to think. You let him, guiding people away with a simple, "he's busy with his own deals, please give him some space."

Possibly ended up having to chase the teenagers to young adults away from him with a broom or sic Epona/Red on to them.

There would be days where it was hard when he was long gone, yearning for him to be near and not far.

Staying up late with worry, possibly crying in frustration that he was dragged away from you. Sometimes, it's due to revisiting old memories that made you cringe at the arguments you both had before. Ones dealing with stress or the other of you yelling at him to be more careful.

He knows ideally he's not husband material since he's always needed by the kingdom. He's always apologizing when he comes home. Bringing gifts from the corners of Hyrule, but you wanted to tell him you care not for them as much as you appreciate the thought behind it. You just want him home and safe, close to sleep, holding you tight while peppering kisses across your face. To ride with him, do domestic things, adventuring and finding new things together.

Instead, you quietly take the gift, setting it on the table, thanking for him thinking of you and for the gift. You went into his embrace, sighing in relief and delight when they curled around you, making your heart soar. He sways you both back and forth, humming a soft tune, maybe one of old or one that's new.

You'll do your routine with him and he happily lets you fuss over him. Checking for new wounds, any serious injuries before giving a pleased nod to yourself or to him. Fixing him a hefty meal from the long travels, taking his adventuring clothes and getting them in a wash bin while putting his sword, chainmail, and shield up for the week/s.

Checking off what needs to be done or refixed in your mind, all while he watches you with a lazy content smile from his spot on the chair.

"Bath time," was all you said as you gathered the fresh clothes out of the drawer. A light snicker left your lips as a sharp breeze ran past you. He was always excited to bathe with you.

No relationship is perfect, that is true, it always depends on how you both deal with the issues and get through it together. Coming out stronger in the end.

With him? You'll do it every time. Just as he will with you.

#linked universe x reader #.bea's writing #lu x reader #link x reader

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

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episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

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