#M!Sole

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 7 -- Kent Connolly

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 7 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

First Time with Kent Connolly x M!Reader

This one is... very long lol. But Kent is just !!! He's so precious, and I felt like I really wanted to draw out the process, since Kent tends to be quite shy and I feel like, in almost every capacity in a romantic relationship, he'd want to take things slowly.

So this is me trying to do that idea justice. If you're craving some serious sweetness with Kent, look no further! 😊

HOWEVER, I do have a couple TWs for allusions to/talk of sexual assault, and also mentions of homophobia. So please be aware of that!

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: First Times, first time jitters, history of sexual assault, homophobic family, lack of acceptance, kissing, confessions of love, undressing, enthusiastic consent, praise, voice kink, light body worship, nipple play, hand jobs, anal fingering, gay sex, aftercare. Sweetness, love, adorableness, KENT AND READER BEING SO SWEET, cuteness, etc.

Words: so many lol 7.5k

--

“You did all this, Sole?” 

“Yeah, well… I figured, you know... this was something special." Your hand touched Kent's shoulder gently as he stared ahead in starry-eyed awe. "Plus, Claire owed me a favor, so… Honeymoon suite it is!”

You opened both arms wide in presentation of the romantic scene as you looked over to Kent with a large, dopey grin. 

Your partner was wide-eyed and frozen as he gazed into the mesmerizing room, his mouth still agape in awe at all you'd done for him.  

The candles, the flower pedals, the plush comforter on the bed, the way the curtains were drawn away from the windows, allowing cool, blue moonbeams to wade through the warm-toned candlelight within the room... It was a scene straight out of a romance novel.  

“It’s... Sole, goodness, it’s all too much for someone like me.”

You turned around to face him at that, a hurt expression creasing your brows as you spoke softly to your partner.

“Kent, sweetheart, you know that’s not true, could never be true. You deserve the world, you hear me?" Stepping forward, you wrapped both arms around the ghoul’s torso, hugging him tightly against you and placing a sweet kiss upon his temple. "And besides, you know how much of a romantic I am, right? I'll take any excuse to do something like this for my beloved hero.” 

You whispered that last bit into his ear, and as Kent turned to you, his eyes were glistening. 

God, he was sweet. Maybe the kindest, most darling man you’d ever met, and he was yours. 

Unable to help yourself, one hand left where it wrapped around Kent’s waist, and went to gently grasp at the point of his chin, holding him in place as you leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. You felt his little jolt, the small yelp of surprise he almost always released when you were this forward with your affections, and pulled back. 

Kent’s light, sparkling eyes were wide as he blinked up at you with parted lips. 

You let yourself take in the sight of him, then. His earnest expression, his genuine surprise, and his slow acceptance that you wanted this. To some, it might’ve become tiresome; the doubts Kent held in himself, the lack of forwardness, of confidence in your relationship, but after all the ghoul had been through, you could never blame him.

Plus… It was nice to take it slow. Necessary, even, after your own struggles, your losses, your difficulties being this vulnerable, this honest with someone about your true self. 

The army never glorified that kind of thing, and your family even less so. Your wife… she had understood, that though you were fond of her, though you loved Shaun with all your heart and held great affection for her, there was always something that was going to be off between the two of you, something that wasn’t the case– or wasn’t meant to be the case– with straight couples. 

But your family hadn’t been any the wiser about your strategically heterosexual marriage, and oh, how they’d adored Nora. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? 

At least, that's what they’d thought. 

Even on the hardest days of missing everyone you'd lost, you could never miss the way you couldn't be your true self with the people who were meant to accept you and love you unconditionally.

“Here, why don’t you get settled, I’ll close the door.” You forced yourself from your thoughts and gradually released Kent from your half-embrace as you turned to grab at the handle behind you, pulling the hotel room door closed with a click. 

Kent had seated himself on the end of the bed, not really appearing to be comfortable, but… he was trying. His hands still fidgeted in his lap, his eyes still darted around the room, but you saw him taking deep breaths, felt the nerves radiating off of him beginning, maybe, to dissipate just a little bit. 

“Want me to take your coat?” 

“O-oh, yes, thank you.” 

He pulled the thing off himself as though you were drilling him, like he was being timed, flailing around until he could hand you the stuffy, old suit jacket. 

“And your hat?” 

Kent handed that over swiftly as well, and you moved to hang it– and your own– on the coat rack by the door. 

“Nuka Cola?” You asked as you turned towards the little kitchenette in the lovely, roomy suite. 

As if I really have to ask. 

“Yes, t-that sounds nice.” 

He sounded so stiff, still, and a small part of you wished it was just another evening in his room; that instead of this lavish date night, you’d simply have shared the evening chatting about comics and a dozen other things in the quiet comfort of the Memory Den. Yet, you’d both talked about this so much recently, these next big steps in the relationship, moving forward after so long of holding things off, of taking the time you both needed to heal and get used to the idea of intimacy and vulnerability again, after your respective struggles. 

“Here, baby.” You handed him one cola bottle, and kept the other in hand as you sat down beside your partner on the lavish, burgundy comforter. 

“Wow,” You said with a chuckle, bouncing lightly on the cushy mattress. “This is... the nicest bed I’ve been on since waking up.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a rasp, “ahem, ah, comfy… yeah.” 

Kent swallowed like he had a radroach stuck in his throat, but took a swig of his drink nonetheless. 

You felt the energy in the air around you, the charged silence like volts of electricity flowing through your shared space, leaving you just as on-edge as your partner.

A deep breath left you, and you turned to him with a gentle determination.

“Kent, hon... we can just spend the night here, if you want.” You finally offered, breaking the silence. “The last thing I want is to pressure either of us, or to make you uncomfortable.” 

Kent's eyes met yours, and you saw apology shining there. 

“It’s okay." You insisted with a smile and a bump of your hand against his arm, "I promise, baby. If we’re not ready, we’re not. You know I’ve got no problem holding off. I’m… well, I’m definitely pretty nervous myself, to be honest.” 

“Y-you are?” Kent's bright blue eyes widened, his brow raising as though had no idea of your own struggles, your own inexperience. 

I swear, I told him… but maybe…

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little, your hands wringing around the glass neck of the bottle you held. “I actually had to ask Hancock for some tips.” 

“Oh.” Kent’s brow furrowed immediately, and he looked away from you. “Yeah… with ghouls I don’t know how different it tends to be–”

“No, Kent, that’s not what I meant, I… Did I really never tell you? In all the talks we’ve had about this?” 

“Tell me what?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the cruel claws of self-consciousness creep under your skin.

But he'd been honest with me. About everything.

You trusted Kent, with everything in you, you knew he'd never judge you, never breathe a word of something that you wanted to stay secret, but now... Well, Nora was the only one who'd ever really known the truth about you.

Maybe Hancock had an idea, given some of the questions you'd asked him in preparation for tonight, but you hadn't spilled your life story to him, he didn't know your background. You'd been vague with the details of why you needed some pointers, but this... This was as open as you could be.

A secret your closest family never even knew.

“That I’ve never… well, I've never been with another man before.” 

His gaze returned to yours with a whip of his head, brows still raised high, startling eyes wide with wonder. 

“N-no, Sole, I… I never knew.” Kent's head shook slowly back and forth. “And you want... your first time to be with–”

“Absolutely, Kent.” Your hand was on his before you even knew you’d moved, wrapping around it reassuringly as you scooted closer. “And you still want me to be your first?” You asked quietly, quite sure you knew the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway, wanting him to know you cared. 

Kent nodded to you with a small grin, before it quickly was dashed from him and his eyes grew strangely distant as they looked past you at some invisible memory.

“Well, you know… almost my first.” His voice was small, quiet as a breeze over snow-covered ground, and almost broke at the words. Your chest gave a painful ache that damn near knocked the breath from you at the sound of him, the sunken look upon your beloved partner's face. 

“Listen to me, love,” You scooted closer, until your thigh was brushing Kent’s, turning your body towards him and grasping at his hand all the harder, as reassuring a gesture as you could manage without overwhelming him. “What Sinjin’s goons did to you doesn’t count for shit, alright? That was… it was wrong and awful, it was cruel and it doesn’t count. You hear me?” 

He couldn’t quite speak, so Kent only nodded, and to your surprise, the ghoul actually leaned forward, falling into your chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

You felt a hollowness, a vile taste on your tongue as you recalled finding him in the aftermath that night, dressed as the Shroud and finishing off every last one of those criminal assholes before gently folding a shaking Kent into your comforting embrace.

If only you'd known before what they had done... You wouldn't have made their deaths so quick.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You leaned into your partner now, one hand moving behind him to rub soothing circles over the length of his back. 

“No.” 

You heard Kent croak out, and pulled yourself away slightly to look into his eyes. 

“You're sure?” 

He nodded; firmly, even, and you listened intently as Kent opened his mouth to speak. 

“I want to make new memories. With you, Sole. Ones that can replace the others… That can make me… happy, instead of… Well, you know.” 

You had to swallow as tears came unbidden to your eyes, feeling the way your throat tightened at the power of his words, of his resolve.

“That’s really brave, Kent.” 

“Yeah, well…” A small smile pulled at the ghoul’s lips, and you felt your heart soar at the sight. “You know me. Bravery. It’s what I’m all about.” 

A chuckle left you, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

“Look, you may joke about it…” You whispered to him, “But really, I think it’s true, love. You’re brave as the Silver Shroud, there’s no doubt about it.” 

“Aw, stop it, Sole.” His hand weakly, jokingly, pushed at your chest as you both grinned. 

The air seemed a bit lighter now, some of the candles had burned down to nothing, and a cool breeze wafted through the slightly parted windows. A chill ran up your spine, but this time, instead of nerves, it was likely just the cold… or maybe the excitement you felt bubbling up. 

It’s decided. You reminded yourself. We’re actually doing this tonight. 

Instead of pulling away from him to start, you laid another kiss over Kent’s lips, and after a moment of stiffness, he leaned into it. You felt the brush of hot air as he exhaled through his ruined nose, but still, he only pushed further into you, tilting his head and kneading his phantom lips over yours. The friction had your mouth tingling, and the taste of your partner was sweet from the Fancy Lad’s cakes and Nuka Cola still on his tongue from after dinner. 

Finally, you pulled away, only for a brief moment, as you grabbed both the bottles of cola and leaned to set them down on the bedside table. 

“Hey,” You said as you scooted back on the bed, making it easier for you to lie down flat on the mattress. “Why don’t you take the lead? That way, if you start feeling uncomfortable, you can just take it back a notch. You can sort of set the pace, you know?” 

“You think that’ll work?” His voice was small, uncertain, even as his gaze set upon the way your body leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed. As his gaze hinted at the yearning he felt within. 

“It’s up to you, love. Just thought it could be something to try?” 

Kent nodded then, and slowly, his body moved to join yours fully on the bed. Your breath almost caught in your throat as Kent crawled over top of you. He was still hesitant, yes, but his movements were more sure of themselves than you could’ve hoped. 

His arms caged you in from where he hovered above you, and his torso and hips pressed to yours as he gradually lowered his bodyweight onto you. 

“T-this okay?” 

“It's perfect, baby.” 

With that, a grin lit up Kent’s expression, and instilled the confidence he needed to press forward, to capture your lips in a kiss once again. 

His kisses were always as earnest as Kent himself was; careful, asking, sure, but more recently… brave. He kissed you with more confidence than you were used to, after being with him for so many months now, and this time, it took your breath away. Even then, as Kent felt you gasp into him, he didn’t pull away, only pushed forward.

A pleasant heat started radiating around you, invigorating your movements as you allowed your hands to raise off the mattress, to begin to roam over Kent’s body. Your fingers lightly grazed up his sides, and you felt him tense over you. In response, you slowed a bit, and only continued when you felt him release a breath and relax under your touch. 

It was a delightful dance you two weaved with one another, a push and pull, a giving and asking of consent that had you aching for more. If you could glean anything from his movements, it was that Kent too, was eager to feel you explore him. The way he ran his lips over yours in such charming movements-- there was an honest wanting behind them, but always of a respectful sort. In that moment, you realized, you truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this with. 

“Kent.” You mumbled through your contact, and he pulled away only a hair’s breadth. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you mind…” Your fingers grazed over the bottom hem of his button up, “Can I take this off?” 

If his complexion had been different, you were sure you would’ve seen him blush at your request. Instead, he just looked away shyly, before nodding and sitting up to help. 

You joined him, bracing yourself against the pillows as you leaned forward and began to undo the buttons of his dress vest. When you had them undone, he shrugged the garment off, and looked down in wonder as your fingers set upon the smaller clasps on his shirt. Your smiling eyes met his, and Kent just looked… God, he had a way of– when he smiled at you– making you feel like you were the most important thing on this planet. 

You found yourself sincerely hoping your own look echoed that sentiment right back at him.

Once you had it undone, Kent helped you to pull the shirt from his shoulders as well; though, this time a bit more hesitantly, as he revealed his bare chest and torso to your gaze. You let your eyes rake leisurely down his body, from where you’d been looking in his eyes, now to his throat, the bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped at the way you took him in, then down to his chest, how it rose and fell with his hurried breaths, his soft stomach, all rough and textured like you’d expected, but also, just…

He was breathtaking.

A man who’d lived so long, who’d been through as much as he had, and made it out still as sweet and loving as anyone you’d ever known-- hell, more so than anyone you'd known. He was everything good about humanity, wrapped up in this charming body, and offering himself to you, to be explored, to be loved, as he deserved; and dammit, you were going to live up to that, you were going to love him like everything good about the world was meant to be appreciated, respected, adored, and never taken for granted.

“Your turn?” Kent's voice interrupted your visual praise of him, and you nodded eagerly at the notion that he wanted to see you this way too. 

“Sorry, babe." You said with an easy smile, "Just got caught up in you. You’re just… You’re very handsome, Kent.” 

He tried to hold back the dopey, blushy grin threatening to take over his face, but you committed that look to memory before he could dash it away completely.

We'll have to work on that. How he could be sheepish about such a charming expression, I'll never know. I could see that look a hundred times a day and never grow tired of it.

Shakily, Kent set his fingers to your own set of buttons, the motion tickling slightly as he undid them as carefully as one might defuse a landmine. Your own hands worked at the cufflinks at the end of your sleeves, so when Kent was done, you could just pull the garment off straightaway. 

Once it was off, Kent must’ve gone through the same process you had only a few moments ago, his vibrant blue eyes taking you in without so much as a blink. The light scars upon your otherwise smooth skin from battles old and new, the crop of chest hairs below your collar bones, the way your stomach rose and fell from your own rapid breaths. 

Without a word, Kent’s hands found your chest, settling there reverently, his fingers stroking over your unmarred form, the coarse little hairs there, one hand even going down to brush gently over the point of your nipple, before his pressure eased you back, to lay down fully on the mattress. 

“I want…” Kent's roughened hands kept stroking over you, the light touches stimulating your nerves in an almost frustrating way. “I want to kiss you again.” 

“Please.” It left you on a desperate breath, and Kent pushed forwards eagerly. The warmth of your skin collided as he laid back over you, and his hands went up to wrap around your shoulders, even as your own touch set to drawing soothing patterns over the textured skin of his bare back. 

His lips, however, were only on yours for a moment, before Kent moved lower, setting them to the line of your jaw, then down to your neck, where you felt goosebumps spread from the tickling sensation of his feather-light kisses. 

“Ahh,” you sighed out, “That’s… that’s really nice, babe.” 

Kent hummed into you as he continued, and you blinked open your eyes to look down at him. His were still closed in a bliss of his own, as he worked over you with his worn lips, dragging them over your skin before pressing small crops of tingly kisses down your collarbone, and then onto your chest. 

As he moved lower, your hands slid up his body, now resting upon his shoulders, rubbing there with a bit of pressure until you felt his lips in a new place. He pulled away, surprising you, then, when his warm, wet lips set upon one erect little nipple, giving it a curious prod with his tongue. Immediately, your body tensed beneath him, your hands grasping firmly to his shoulders at the shock of his forward touch on that small, sensitive place. 

“Did that hurt?” Kent backed off quickly, his expression panicked as he looked down at you with furrowed brows. 

“N-no, it–” Your own chuckle interrupted you, “That actually feels really good, it just surprised me, is all.” 

“Oh, s-sorry.” 

“No!” You could tell you said the word too loudly, but honestly, if Kent got it into your head that you didn’t like that, well… it just wouldn’t be the truth, right? And heroes all strive towards the truth.

“No," You said more quietly this time, "Kent, please don’t apologize, I jerked up like that because it just felt so shockingly good. You're, god, I mean, you're a natural.” 

He made that face again, like he was trying to stifle a blush, and goodness, if that wasn’t one of the loveliest sights you’ve had the privilege to see. 

“You got a gift, baby, honestly.” 

“So... I should do it again?”

You licked your lips unwittingly as you nodded, silently wondering how sensitive he was in that same place upon his chest. You’d have to test it one day, but for now, you settled back to how you both were before.

Your stomach already buzzed in anticipation as Kent leaned forward, his eyes locked to your expression expectantly as he gave you a little teasing lick. Your own eyes closed in bliss, a chill running up your back from the too-light touch on your sensitive little bud, and a sigh left your lungs you as he did it again, drawing the action out a bit this time, much to your obvious delight. 

“Aw, yeah… that’s it.” You arched your back up against the mattress, pushing out your chest and urging your partner to continue. You let him witness the whole range of pleasure coursing through you, as your hands grasped his shoulders tightly, as you gasped with each lick, each sensual little suck, as your eyes rolled back in your head and you groaned out in response to your his touches. Just as you felt your nipple growing more sensitive, as it began to harden in response to the stimulation, Kent followed his instincts and switched to the other one. Thankfully though, he had the good sense to slide one hand up your body, to tease at the– now distinctly sensitive– bud he’d left temporarily unattended. 

Breaths continued to leave you in labored pants, and you could feel a tense bulge forming between your legs in response to his increasingly heated motions.

Kent appeared to be enjoying himself as well, it seemed, as you felt the evidence of his excitement against one of your thighs. As he laid sprawled over you, likely unwittingly, Kent began to grind his hips in slow, undulating movements against you. 

“Geeze, babe, that feels nice.” You continued to praise him, feeling your voice grow huskier with building arousal. “C-can I ask you something else?” You added at the last minute, your heart already beginning to pound against your chest at the thought of what you were about to request. 

“Hm?” Kent looked up at you, his eyes foggy as he blinked away the haze of his own increasing pleasure. “O-of course.” 

“I want us to do this, Kent.” You tried to regulate your voice, to keep it from wavering, to keep your eyes on him, even as you felt your cheeks flush with heat. 

“M-me too, Sole.” He whispered back with a little smile. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your own grin took over your expression. 

“Alright, so, I was thinking… Maybe we could, um, take off...”

“This next?” 

Kent leaned back even more, then, and one hand laid to rest lightly over the button of your dress pants. 

You nodded rapidly, feeling that bulge between your legs tingle with anticipation.

“Y-yeah, exactly. If you’re ready.” You quickly added. 

Though his brows were creased, though you could see a small shadow of nervousness clouding his vision for just a brief moment, next, his gaze was back on you, and with a nod, Kent's fingers brushed over the swell of your building erection.

“I was a little, ah, nervous when I felt it, but… Like you said. Gotta be brave. If the Shroud gave up every time he felt a little nervous, well, he wouldn’t be a hero now, right?” 

Your smile could only broaden at his sound reasoning. 

“I guess not," You agreed, "but, still… Kent, I don’t want to pressure you–” 

He cut you off, surprising you with his brash forwardness as his lips quickly captured yours.

You had no choice but to melt into it, rejoicing in the firmness of the contact, the way you could feel his rapid pulse through his skin, and still taste honeyed bliss on his tongue as it shyly darted out to meet yours.

Again, you found yourself in utter awe at his admirable courage.  

“You’re not," He said as he pulled away, "Don’t worry, my love.”

With that, Kent leaned back again, settling his knees on either side of your thighs as his fingers brushed over your button and zipper. “I really want this too, you know. Even if I'm nervous... doesn't mean I want it any less.” 

Your heart jumped, and as his eyes set upon your face again, you gave him one last nod of assurance, and felt pressure release as your button popped open. 

Your partner worked slowly, as had become custom with you two, much to both your liking, and pulled down the zip, before he began to shimmy both your briefs and pants down at once. You lifted your ass off the mattress to allow him to slide them down, and then it went easy, until at last, Kent was tugging the pant legs off from around your ankles. 

You were too busy staring at his precious expression as he took you in fully, for the first time, to notice what it was exactly he had his gaze set on. Without realizing it, you’d grown more than a bit stiff within the fabric walls of your briefs. Your cock stood up against your lower stomach, at full hardness, as Kent blinked down at you. 

“Wow…” He breathed, and you could feel your blush rising at his unabashed scrutiny. “I, no, you… I really made you like this?” 

Another nod, another blush, and another instance where Kent was in awe of you. And goodness, how that overwhelming feeling was wholly mutual. 

“Kent, baby…” 

At that, he snapped out of his haze, blinking as his gaze met yours.

“Right.” Kent cleared his throat, and scooted towards you with intent, and then… stopped, at a loss. “W-what should I do next?” 

“Well, what do you want to do?” 

His brows furrowed cutely, an expression akin to a pout resting on his face as he considered your question.

“T-touch you?” He suddenly asked.

Very well. Your expression plainly told him, and with a shy smile, you reached out, easing his hands into yours as you guided them to where your erection strained up against your belly. 

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around you with a tentative firmness, one that satisfied, but still left you aching for more. He drew his hands up, with your guidance, and smoothed down the generous bead of slick pre-cum from your slit over the rest of your shaft, easing the friction of his touch over you. A breathy groan escaped from your parted lips, and you felt Kent’s pace quicken, his confidence building at your reactions to his efforts. 

“Is this okay?” His raspy voice still questioned, even as he continued his dizzying movements. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought his words were meant to tease-- that your innocent, sweet little Kent Connolly was being smug.

But you knew better.

“More than okay." You assured him as the words left you almost in a groan. "Mm, feels really good, baby.” 

Kent's grip tightened a bit, and your hips bucked up into his textured touch in response, but instead of pulling away like he had with your chest, your partner's pace only grew more insistent against you. 

A shuddering breath left your lungs, some form of a ‘yeah,’ following shortly after as you felt your cock twitch within his grasp.

“H-hold on, please.” You held up one hand as you panted, as you felt sweat slickening over your back and forehead, as that tightening knot down below threatened to come undone all too soon. 

Kent's hands paused their movement, but stayed upon you as your gazes met. 

“Something wrong?”

“No, god no, the opposite.” You chuckled, but Kent only blinked at you.

“Getting too close, that’s all. Want this to last longer. I want… Want to touch you.” 

A moment of consideration, and then Kent’s hands left your protesting cock. 

“Okay.” He said with a new certainty, shifting back to give you room to sit up. 

With that, you rose, and set your hands upon his body gently, encouraging your partner to lie down in your place on the mattress, before you returned his earlier favor, and tentatively removed his trousers and the underwear beneath. 

Silver Shroud boxer-briefs… You noted with a fond smile, Who could’ve guessed?

You made no comment to him though, continuing with your efforts without pause. You allowed the clothes to pile up on the floor, and took in the full sight of your partner spread out beneath you. 

Much like Kent earlier in the evening, you just couldn’t help yourself.

Soon, your lips found him-- his lips-- briefly in a sweet, chaste kiss, then to his neck, drawing a shining line of spit over his collar bone with your wet lips, down to his chest, mouthing and leaving teasing, light lovebites in your wake as you steadily moved lower down his body. 

A fresh bout of breathy sighs and whines left your partner at your actions, and shudders of pleasure ran up and down through your nerves at the way he sounded from your attentions, the way he blissfully moaned out your name, how his voice caressed the hotel-room air as though he were whispering it for everyone in the world to hear. To hear and to know that you loved him, and that he loved this, despite all odds.

Because it was with you. 

You couldn’t help but warm fondly at the thought, and at the realization that you felt the same such way. 

As your lips set upon his lower stomach, grazing lightly over his pubic bone, you felt the heat of Kent's own rising erection building so near to your face. The next instant, and one hand was upon him lightly, gentle, asking touches that had him nodding wildly in approval above you, until you took his textured girth in-hand, and began to leisurely stroke. He was already mostly hard, already leaking like you were, and, also like you, Kent was pleading for you to ease up only moments after you’d began your ministrations. 

“So, ah…” You both had to stop and take a couple of breaths, allowing your mind to clear somewhat before you voiced your inquiry. “You want to try for the main event?” 

Inwardly, you cringed at your wording, making it sound like some show or sporting contest, when really… this was something softer, unostentatious, just… honest. Even with the romance that bled into it, the theatre of the candles and flower pedals and the honeymoon suite... the act itself was more subdued than any act upon a stage, or any great concert in an arena, it was just another soft chapter of your love story. It was words on a page: tangible, but only just so, only by the hands that caress it, by the eyes that so thoughtfully take it in.

“I-I do…” Kent said, his words hushed, but tinged with excitement.

You could see though, that he wanted to say something more, and with a swallow, he did.

“So, you want to, um… be on top?” 

You blinked in surprise at his forwardness, but still, you were grateful for it. Not only did it open up the conversation, as you had planned on doing yourself, but it showed that he was actively participating in this. He was choosing to be with you, and of course, of course that was necessary to continue in any capacity, but so far in your relationship, you’d lead the way. Kent was more tentative, less confident, less experienced, but when he made an effort to participate so enthusiastically, it just… it put your mind and heart at ease. He told you time and time again, ‘I want this.’ but words and actions are different, and after all he’d been through… you needed all he could give to determine how enthusiastic-- how ready-- he truly was. 

“That’s… well,” You started, “That’s all I’ve ever done, um, so far, you know, with Nora... Um, so I wouldn’t mind it, but… Where would you be most comfortable?” 

“Why don’t you take the lead this time?” Kent offered with a shaky voice, and stayed put where he was lying back on the bed, giving you your answer in more ways than one. 

With a nod, you slid off the mattress, and though Kent was surely surprised as you left him briefly, any inquiries of his were answered a moment later, when you settled yourself at the foot of the bed with a bottle of lube clasped in one hand. 

Hancock’s ‘most important tip,’ as he had put it. 

"Don't be shy with this stuff, trust me, heh."

He'd winked then too, but the genuine insistence was there in his words, and you weren't about to ignore them.

“It might be a little cold,” You warned as you squirted a generous amount into the palm of one hand, “but lemme just…”

You rubbed both hands together, trying to warm the gel up a bit, before lowering them between your partner’s legs. With a swallow of his nerves, Kent spread them wider for you, and with his invitation extended, you began to touch him. 

He gasped at first, but even so, you felt his body making efforts to relax as your hands grazed over his most intimate places. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to ease downward from his erection, down the seam of his ass until you reached his hole, tentatively spreading the slick of the lube there as you tried to pleasure him all at once. You felt Kent clench just a tad, before the pressure eased, and you heard a deep breath leave him. 

“This okay?” You questioned, keeping your gaze locked to his expression as your hands moved. 

“Y-yeah, Sole. Just… slow.”

“Slow.” You repeated, your own breath becoming shaky as you felt your arousal pooling low in your stomach. Unwittingly, you found one of your slickened hands pulling away and going to your own cock, stroking and spreading the lube over your length as your other hand continued familiarizing Kent with your intimate touch. 

One finger prodded gently at his asshole, and the faintest of moans left him at the near-intrusion. 

“You like that?” Your expression soon became a bit smug, proud of the way your touch obviously excited him. 

Kent didn’t answer, not with words, anyway, but as you did it again, his hardened member gave an excited little jerk of its own, and another– lovely– involuntary sound spilled from his parted lips. 

Your partner relaxed further back into the mattress as you continued toying with him, until, with relative ease, you found your prodding index finger sinking into him. The movement was accompanied by a throaty groan, but you honestly weren’t sure if the noise had come from you or him. 

Both, perhaps. Your thoughts suggested, and you felt your cheeks heat at that.

Kent tightened momentarily around the new sensation as you probed a bit further, and you allowed time for him to adjust while your other hand worked over your pulsing cock.

Once he’d relaxed enough for the pressure to let up, you began to withdraw, before pushing back in once more. It was slow, steady, just like the rest of the blissful night had been.

Eventually, one finger turned to two, and you thrust them unhurriedly, lovingly so; kneading and curling your fingers against his pliant walls, and pulling a menagerie of unusually wanton noises from your coy, intimately sheepish other half. 

“God, I love the sounds you’re making for me, love.” You leaned your body over his slightly, letting your skin brush his as you continued working your fingers in and out of him, your half-lidded gaze set religiously on the way his brows creased together, how the muscles in his throat strained, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your movements. 

“... Can I–?” 

You tried to begin your inquiry, but Kent’s half-moan, half-plead stopped you in your tracks. 

“Yes,” He whined out, “Yes, Sole, I-I'm ready for you.” 

The words had you quivering, had your eyes fogging over in bliss, your cock nudging up into your hand as if to encourage you to move forward.

Who were you to deny it? To deny him?

You scooted even closer to your partner, as you withdrew your fingers from him, and placed your free hand over one hip, holding Kent in place beneath you as the other guided the tip of your cock to rest at his entrance. 

“Please.” Kent looked like a dream as he eagerly shimmied his hips into you, his own cock drooling a strand of translucent pre-cum onto his soft stomach as you fought to hold yourself back. All of this, his pleading for you, the sight of him spread out beneath your body, the feel of his warmth, the smell of sex and spiced candles in the air, it had you straining and leaking all the same as your partner was.

But you had to be gentle, had to be slow. With that thought in mind, you nudged the head of your cock against him, and gradually, pressed your hips forward. You were pleased by the way he relented to you so easily, the feel of him damn-near making tears form in your eyes at the way his heat encased your sensitive tip, clenching and thrusting towards you, demanding more.  

“Good?” Your voice strained out the word.

Kent nodded frantically, one hand going to grasp at your wrist where you were holding onto his hips, and giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

With that, you allowed yourself to push steadily in further, feeling the delicious drag of his walls over you, the pleasant ease of the slick lubricant only making your movements more fluid, more blissful. 

Twin gasps left your lips as you finally bottomed out inside him, and you felt Kent’s grasp over your wrist tighten almost to the point of pain as his breath picked up in his chest. 

“Geeze, Sole…” He rasped as he blinked up at you, sky-blue eyes hazy like fog over the ocean as they clouded over with pleasure. 

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, and felt his body shudder at the sound of your praise. It was all you needed to begin pulling yourself out, only a couple inches, before easing your length back inside. Kent’s free hand tugged at the fabric of the comforter as your pace picked up, his teeth set together as his jaw clenched; you hoped, from the overwhelming pleasure, and not discomfort. 

“Feel so good around me… Doing so well, baby.” You encouraged as your breath picked up with the steadily increasing pace of your thrusts. “You doing okay?” 

“Mmhm. Ah-huh.” A whine escaped his throat, but the way it left him at the same moment his cock spilled another bead of pre-cum over his skin allowed you to make a pretty sound determination. 

“You like this, love?” 

Another thrust, this one a tad more aggressive than any before it, and you heard the skin of your hips meet his ass with a resounding clap. 

“Y-yeah, I do.” The sound of his raised voice went straight to your throbbing member, growing all the harder within him at the strain you detected there, but also the sheer honesty. His want for this, for you inside him, for you to be engaging in this scary, intimate act together that was more worth it than you ever could’ve imagined.

This is what intimacy means. Two people unselfishly and unabashedly loving one another, supporting one another, yearning for one another. You accepting him, and him, you. Love, free of judgement, completely honest, completely overwhelming in its sincerity.

You yearned to see Kent like this a thousand more times, to feel him surrounding you, his body and yours singing praises to each other while your minds and hearts embraced in the same such way. 

“Kent, ah…” A more drawn-out moan forced itself from your throat, and he clenched at the way you whined his name.

“Babe, I-I love you.” You managed, and your partner gasped, his eyes bursting open at the sound of your precious words. 

“You… you mean that?” His hand on you tightened its grip.

“Always, baby.” You said so quickly you nearly cut him off, “I love everything about you, and I… I love you for trusting me this way.” 

You leaned over him now, and felt Kent adjust himself to allow you to lay comfortably over top him. Your chests brushed together, shared breaths mingling in the small space that separated your faces. You were as close to him as one could be to another, and still, you craved more. 

“I love you too, Sole. More than I ever thought I c-could love someone.” 

His whispered words drew your lips to his, and held you there, reveling in the feel of his touch, his taste, the sweet massage of his textured lips against yours. 

Your thrusts into him had eased as you spoke, but now, they picked back up, the force of them jolting your bodies and the large mattress below until you heard the springs straining under your combined weight. 

A gasp left Kent each time your cock hilted inside him, and soon enough, you were forced to separate from the kiss, as you both quickly became winded. 

“I-I’m getting close.” You managed as you felt your blood rushing, your stomach tightening, fire flowing through your veins. 

“I am too.” Kent almost sounded surprised, like that fact had snuck up on him, and you grinned as you focused the grinding of your hips more strategically, flexing and unflexing your stomach muscles where his leaking erection was trapped between your bodies. 

His gasps turned to moans, Kent’s hips bucking upwards to meet you, to increase the friction over his aching cock, before his breath hitched in his chest, and he released.

A searing warmth blossomed between your bodies as he met his blissful end beneath you. Your eyes stayed locked to his expression as he rode out his pleasure, fixating on the way his jaw dropped, his eyes closed tightly, his little phantom nose wrinkled as he tensed and writhed and bucked up into you like his life depended on your closeness for its survival. 

His expression, the way he clenched around you, his warmth, his spend dripping onto your skin, it was too much, and you followed right after him.

Kent’s legs wrapped around you, holding your body firmly in place as you shouted out your own release, spilling deep inside him. He came down from his high just as you were riding yours out, groaning at the feel of you finishing so deep within, the continuing pressure of your cock against his sore walls, the oversensitivity of your stomach grinding against his tired cock proving almost too much, until finally, you stilled over top him. 

Both of you merely existed for a moment, panting out your exertion while you stayed pressed together snugly and basked in the pleasant afterglow of your first union together.

With a protesting sort of grunt though, you began to ease yourself up and out of your partner. You’d laid a towel over the headrest of the bed in preparation, and grabbed it now with one shaky hand, bringing it between your bodies to swipe away the mess of lube and spend. Kent was nearly asleep, his eyes half-closed as he watched you clean him with a tired little grin upon his lips. 

Unable to resist the call of that sweet, endearing expression, you bent down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth, before collapsing on the comforter beside him. 

“That was…” You started, shaking your head as you tried to finish the sentence, but there… there weren't the words to describe the bliss you’d just felt. 

“It was better than the Silver Shroud.” Kent whispered, almost chuckling to himself, even as your eyebrows flew high up on your forehead at his confession. 

There was certainly humor there, but also genuine surprise as you sat up to look at him-- to question both the soundness of that statement and his state of mind.

“It was?!”

A chuckle and a nod were your answer, his precious blue eyes crinkling with mirth at your animated response.

"Wow... that's saying a lot, baby. You sure you're okay?"

With that, Kent scooted his body closer to yours, warming your heart as his arms wrapped about you without a measly ounce of hesitation.

"Honestly?" His sleepy voice rasped, "I don't think there's a time I've ever been better."

[v4ult-dw3ll3r]

Wanted to share some images of my main / favourite Fallout 4 OC, Eric Dawson 🥰

In my Fallout universe, he’s married to Danse lmao

[siberiascaravan]

Things Sole does that makes Gage crazy for them:

I’ve been feeling Gage lately. Enjoy more raider boyfriend stuffs. :)

The way you walk- regardless of how it is- in Gage’s eye; You are walking like the big, bad Nukawolrd OverBoss.

The way you sleep. He is a light sleeper. A very light sleeper. So, he wakes up a lot in the night and just watches the way your chest rises and falls with each breath. Listening to your snoring- which he says would scare even a Yao Guai away- in the silent of the night as the crackling of the nearby fire casts dancing shadows upon your face. Sometimes the feint sound of the nuka cola theme mixed with the noise you produce in your sleep- makes him feel just relaxed enough to doze off again.

The taste of your sweat coating his lips after he plants kisses anywhere on your body. Occasionally, he likes to nip, causing beads of crimson to form- which he is all to happy to lap up. At first you complained- not wanting the other raiders to see the marks- but, admit it; you missed it when he stopped- so you gave him permission to do it again.

Your protectiveness when it comes to him. Even though when the tables are turned- he would NOT save you from danger. Unless there was a guarantee he wouldn’t be hurt or killed saving you.

The way you defend his name when one of the raiders in Nuka world speaks poorly of him. Of course, the favor is returned 10 fold as anyone who utters a single bad word or opinion about you- has never been seen or heard from again.

Calling him “Porter”.

[genderkoolaid]

dunno if you've heard yet but KOSA aint getting passed! yay!

(https://www.fightforthefuture.org/news/2024-08-01-kosa-is-dead-now-its-time-to-unite-to-take-on-big-tech-for-real/

“KOSA was a poorly written bill that would have made kids less safe. I am so proud of the LGBTQ youth and frontlines advocates who have led the opposition to this dangerous and misguided legislation. It’s good that this unconstitutional censorship bill is dead for now, but I am not breathing a sigh of relief. It’s infuriating that Congress wasted so much time and energy on a deeply flawed and controversial bill while failing to advance real measures to address the harms of Big Tech like privacy, antitrust and algorithmic justice legislation.”

[bambi-on-the-ps3]

[tvarchive]

THE WALKING DEAD 3.01 “Seed”

[dailytvwomen]

SARAH JESSICA PARKER as CARRIE BRADSHAW in Sex and the City, 1.03

[sonchus-arvensis]

we got forced to love queerbaiting so much that now we don't care about the main canon mlm ship but obsess over a guy leaning his head on another guy's thigh

[stevie-petey]

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.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 6 -- Tinker Tom

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 6 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Frottage with Tinker Tom x M!Sole

Tinker Tom really was such a blast to write for, and his VA deserves ALL the love for his performance, he's just such a fun character!

I hope you all enjoy!

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Also, just a TW for mentions of recreational drug use! (no actual drug use takes place in this story though)

Included: Frottage, rubbing, kissing, hickeys, nipple play, misunderstandings (but the good kind), enthusiastic consent, alleyway (almost) sex, semi-public.

Words: 4k

--

“Fixer, hey! You’re back, man! That’s great, that’s really, I mean, that’s just… well, yeah, it's great.” 

The unsettling pittering of Sole's heartbeat gave a stuttering pause as his gaze caught on Tom's gangly form, but if the eccentric inventor noticed his anxiety, he gave no hints of it.

Suppose that's a good start... Just have to play it cool, easy going.

Simple enough.

“Hey!" Sole shouted in response, already spreading both arms wide in a welcoming motion. "C’mere Tom.” 

“Aw, man, you know I’m not too mushy, not like Carrington, you know?” Tom chuckled a bit, giving an ‘aw shucks,’ sort of gesture with one hand as Sole continued walking towards him, perhaps more insistently than he consciously meant to. 

“Nah, come on Tom,” Sole threw him his signature puppy eyes, his hands still extended outwards invitingly, “Come here, bring it in. I know you want to.” 

“Alright, alright. Hey, no need to shout it out loud.” He whispered the last bit as he crashed into Sole’s chest, and the railroad agents both wrapped their arms around one another. “No need to get the whole Institute involved with this hug, eh? Ears everywhere, you know?”

“Right." Sole spoke into Tom’s shoulder, letting himself relax into the embrace as he thought fondly back to all of his friend’s conspiracy theories, they way he'd talked about them for hours at a time while Sole listened with nothing but a fond smile and a humoring shrug of his shoulders or nod of his head... 

Their embrace lasted longer than Sole expected it to, what with Tom’s usual twitchiness; but his contact... it seemed to calm the squirrely man down in a way he didn't care to linger on for too long.

If he did, he surely wouldn't stop.  

For Sole, well, it was just nice to see Tom at all. He’d made it a point lately, of returning to HQ less and less, after they had, well… 

The inventor pulled away first, the caging contact proving to be too much for him now. 

“You’re um… Yeah, you were right, Fixer, that was… well, nice. 'S nice to see ya back here. You been a real stranger here lately.”

“Yeah…” Sole rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, something between a smile and a cringe settling upon his face. 

They hadn’t said more than a few words since that night they’d spent together, after a few drinks of Tom’s making, something that’d thrown them both into a... frenzy of sorts. Come to think of it, had it even had alcohol in it at all?

Didn’t matter either way, Sole supposed. It seemed both of them were intentionally disinclined to mention it. For… some reason. 

Sole hadn’t said a word, that’s true, but… with the way Tom chooses to operate, how outgoing he is with his friends, outspoken too… Why did Sole have to be the one to bring it up? And after all, he was the one who made the drink in question, right? But even still, a few weeks have gone by, and now... still nothing. Was it meant to be just a one-time thing? 

C-could it not be? Was that... possible?

Sole wasn’t sure how the Railroad operated it, but back in his army days, people had to be careful about relationships within the ranks, but if Tom were willing to try and make it work...

“So, have you been–”

“OH. Fix, my man, have I got something to show you. Come on, follow follow, let’s go.” 

Tom's sudden hand-claps echoed around the brick walls of the hideout right alongside their hurried footsteps as he led Sole through the alleys within; but not… Not to his work area.

“Come with me, Fixer, and get yo’ fix, ha. That’s good, huh? Like a jingle, you know?” 

“Y-yeah Tom, that one’s a keeper for sure.” Sole mumbled distractedly as he followed, now trekking further back into the alcoves than he remembered being, maybe ever. “Um, where are we going?” 

“Almost there, oh, you’ll be excited man, this stuff’s even better than the last.” 

Immediately, Sole felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and felt his skin grow clammy at the very same time. He gulped to keep from choking on his own spit, and honestly? Sole was just glad he didn’t trip and completely fall embarrassingly onto the uneven cobblestone below. 

“T-the last? Tom…” Sole cleared his throat, hoping to flush out the frog stuck within it. “Tom, we never talked about–”

“And we’re here! Take a look, man, wa-hoo-ey, this is gonna be good, I can feel it. Not even tested this baby yet, this is gonna be the good stuff though, I guarantee it.” 

All the inflections in his words were driving Sole crazy. He was, well, Tom was almost always manic, and Sole had never minded that, but… There was something that seemed to have him even more on edge than usual tonight. 

You and me both then, I guess.

“What’s it gonna do?” Sole asked himself more than he asked Tom, who was busy pouring out his mysterious liquid invention into a couple of long, clear test tubes. 

Maybe that means he’s measuring it properly this time?

Sole could only hope. 

Or… Not. I could hope the opposite, instead…

He bit his lip as he watched Tom work, as vivid memories– well, foggy ones, but memories nonetheless– flooded over his vision. 

Was it wrong of him? To want what he and Tom had before? Even if maybe it had been more of an accident than anything with actual romantic potential? Was it wrong to rush into it again, to not discuss it, even when it felt so good that first time? It felt so... right, then, that night they'd spent together, so... who was Sole to say it's wrong to want to repeat it?

“Here it is!" Tom interrupted Sole's avalanching thoughts, "Ready to be consumed and absorbed and totally, completely take over our–”

“Tom.” 

Sole stopped him suddenly, both physically and vocally, grabbing at either of the tinkerer’s shoulders as the man's own hands still grasped onto the full test tubes. 

“T-that’s me, what’s goin’ on, Fixer?” 

Finally, it was as if Tom could see him. He wasn’t looking through Sole, wasn’t avoiding eye contact or scurrying around, he was still, and he was looking right at him. He was listening. 

Now. I have to say something now.

With a slow blink of his eyes, a quick breath out to expel the lingering nerves, Sole’s gaze met with his again. 

“Just hold on, okay? We need to talk about… About last– shit, I don’t even remember the day or anything, but, the last time we tried one of your experiments out like this… Everything that happened.” 

He merely blinked at Sole for a second, the silence allowing the ex-vault dweller to hear his own rapid pulse.

“S-sure, Sole, yeah, we can talk about it. Just… I thought we were cool, you know?” Tom gave a little shrug, jostling Sole’s hands upon him, “Both of us made it through all right, no big side effects or nothin', and you seemed to have a damn good time, so I thought you’d wanna try something again, you know? Wasn’t too far a leap, in my humble opinion.”

Sole’s head shook in disbelief, and he felt his body follow suit, a shock running through it like a painful volt from an exposed wire. 

“Do you… Tom, do you actually remember what happened? What that drink did to us? Made… ahem, us do?” 

“Huh?” One of Tom’s brows quirked comically high on his forehead. 

“Well, 'made us do' sounds kinda bad," Sole released his grip on his friend, stepping away as he rubbed over his face with one hand, "It might’ve happened anyway between us-- that night, even-- maybe, but the drink definitely–” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Fix, you good? You seem like you… Like maybe I– Just, okay, you wanna be a little less vague about all this? So I know what the cheese you’re talking about?” 

Sole blinked at him, and felt his shoulders slump. 

Holy shit. 

His heart raced, his mind was pandemonium, every thought whizzing around his head until they were crashing against each other, like so many crazed insects in a confusing frenzy. 

Does Tom not remember... anything? At all?

“Oh Fix-er, yoo-hoo.” Tom waved one of the vials in front of his face, catching Sole’s distracted attention with the sight of the strange, vivid liquid within. 

“Right, sorry, I just... I don't know how to put this, but you and I, Tom, we… Do you really not remember?” He sucked it up and voiced his worries, hoping to everything that he was wrong. If they’d been intimate, and Sole was the only one in his right mind, then… 

What the hell have I done?

“Yeah, I remember.” Tom nodded so enthusiastically, it almost allowed the vault-dweller to hope, “I remember us sucking down that sweet, sweet mixture I made, and then you tipping back in a bedroll on the floor, rolling around and mumbling while you had the lucid daydream of a lifetime. Heh, took mine a bit to kick in, but then things went wild and crazy. I went on a whole ass adventure. You ever wonder how China’s doing right now? Feel like I could tell you and be right, that’s how real it felt. Shit I made was good, huh?” 

“W-wh– lucid dream?” 

Sole was at a loss, and by Tom’s expression, he knew it too. 

“Yeah, man. Hallucinogenic. Hell of a strong one too, like I keep sayin’ to you, good shit.” 

Sole couldn’t move, his limbs like lead as the truth weighed down on him.  

“You look so hurt, man. Like somebody kicked your dog or somethin,’ you… Oh shyyyyiiiiiiit.” 

The floor was all Sole could think to focus on, with the realization buzzing around his head. 

So real… 

He wasn't even listening, couldn't hear a word Tom said, until:

“Shit, did you dream– Like, you thought that we–?” 

Sole closed his eyes as his mouth opened to answer, allowing the words to spill out before his overwhelmed mind could think to stop him.

“That you and me slept together… yeah.”

The vault-dweller's throat was audibly dry and tight, and his confusion at this whole situation never seemed to lessen, but at least he didn’t feel quite so guilty now. 

A dream... a hallucination. Shit.

“Well... was it good?” 

Sole's eyes opened, and his gaze snapped to meet Tom's.

“W-what?”

“Man, you heard me.” 

That managed to pull the slightest of laughs from him then, despite the circumstances, and Sole was nodding before his voice could properly answer. 

“Yeah, Tom. Yeah, it was good.” Sole got lost for a moment. The vividness of their closeness, the feeling of it all, the sensations, the smells, the touches, both light and heavily impassioned, it had a hold on him still, even after finding out it was nothing but a dream of sorts. “It was, yeah… really nice. Incredible.”

He whispered out the last bit, not even intending to say it aloud. 

“And so… that’s something you’d be interested in?” 

Tom was leaning against his little steel prep table, placing the still-full vials of liquid back into the test tube rack as Sole merely blinked.

He hadn't thought it possible to be even more confused in this situation, but... well, here he is. Yet another instance where Tinker Tom caught him off-guard.

“Well, would, um, you?” Sole’s voice shook a bit as he responded to the question with the same such inquiry.

“Yo, hey, no, that’s cheating. I asked you first, Fix.” 

“W-well, yes.” He said, quickly. He had to say it quickly, before his mind could get wrapped up in the answer until it became so jumbled that it didn’t make sense. 

“Hm.” Tom gave a little nod, his lip twitching as though he were stifling a grin. “Now that’s interesting…” 

“What?” 

“Just, didn’t have you pegged as being into a guy my type, that’s all. Thought maybe you and Deacon got along that way. But let’s face it, with him? I never know.” 

They both chuckled lightly at that, and Sole felt some of the nerves dissipate at the easy action of simply talking this through. And maybe just a bit too, by the way Tom seemed more than a little excited at what he’d learned. 

“Nope, me and sunglasses are just mates, that’s all...” 

There was silence for a moment, as Sole trailed off. He played with his fingers, picking and fidgeting as Tom spaced out on something behind him. 

Where to go from here? After that confession, after learning that it’d been a dream… my god. It was only a hallucination. 

Sole, ironically, couldn’t wrap his head around that. 

“So, it really was just a–”

“Do you think you’d ever–”

They both spoke at once, cutting each other off until the pair both dissolved into another bout of laughter on either side of the brick-walled alleyway. 

“Okay, you go first.” Sole offered. 

“Right, yeah. Yeah, so, just curious, you know… So, that’s really something you might want? For me and you to…” 

A vaguely lewd gesture blossomed from Tom’s expressive hands just then, but Sole tried to ignore it. 

I don’t want him to think it meant nothing. Don’t want that to be what he expects, or to think I... disrespected him in some way. 

“Well, maybe not just go straight away to sex, l-like we did in the dream thing, with the drink that-- it doesn't matter. Anyway, what I really had in mind was, I don't know... A little date, maybe?” 

“Ohh?” Tom raised his eyebrows playfully, and pushed off from where he was leaning against the table,  walking towards him with a peculiar sway in his step. “And what, do you think we’d do on this little date? What with me not really being able to leave the safehouse and all.”

Right. Sole pursed his lips. Des’s orders. Something about being too valuable to be put at risk. That person-specific policy had felt so nice to hear for all those working out in the hazardous field.

Yet now... Sole found he didn't really mind it. If it kept Tom safe, well... 

“I’m not sure… But this place isn’t bad.” Sole gestured upwards with his hands, mimicking the arch of the ceiling with his action. “Kinda secluded, romantic, you know? We could have a picnic or something, maybe? Or just a…”

Tom was leaning closer, looking up at him with eyes like molten chocolate, rich and dark, but with a shine to them that had Sole readily reciprocating his forward movement. 

“... A chat. Like a long conversation, about our interests, what we like and…” 

“Hey Fixer?” Tom’s voice sounded low, barely catching Sole’s transfixed attention. He was just… Like in his dream, Tinker Tom was so much more than the local conspiracy theorist or tech geek or handyman. He had this draw to him. He was so much more than even the Railroad took him for.

Sole couldn't have said exactly one thing that it was about him, but Tom had been so welcoming from the start, so kind and hilarious and exciting to be around, and more, he was selfless, good-hearted, and just a little bit crazy, but... That really had it's own kind of appeal, didn't it?

Not to mention those attributes that likely had Sole's mind so in-the-gutter when it came to the hallucinogenic; Tom's big eyes, the soft-looking, springy hair that was so often covered by that contraption on his head, and were those little dimples on his cheeks when he smiled?

“Fixerrrr. You in there?” Tom's voice was still low, but it managed to catch Sole's attention this time. Still though, he found he could only blink down at him.

“I’ve got, like, a super, mega important question for ya. But I need you to answer completely honestly. Think you got that?”

“Yeah.” Sole gave a nod, their faces so close it allowed their foreheads to brush together briefly. He very nearly made a joke in his light-headedness, something about telling the truth, about him not being Deacon, but Tom's next words swept any developing thought out from under his feet.

“Can I kiss you?”

Is this... Was that real? Did he really just ask that so readily, so easily?

Maybe I did take one of those tubes of Tom’s new mixture. What if I just don’t remember it, like last time? Maybe this too is an illusion. 

So then…

Another part of Sole's consciousness chimed in.

What have you got to lose?

“I just, man, I wish you could see yourself," Tom continued in response to Sole's silence, "You just look so kissable right now, and me? Well, not to spill it all to you, but, I’ve liked you since you stepped through our shitty, feral-infested door. Always thought you were pretty cute, I won’t lie to you. Then, with the way you defended me against Carrington with my Institute food camera theory, after having just met me? Man, come on, that shit had me smiling for days.” 

Finally, this stole Sole from his boggy thoughts. The realness of that memory, the fond feelings behind it, his own first impressions of the eccentric nerd he was stumbling his words over now...

“I think you’re cute too, Tom.” Sole managed to whisper out, unconsciously raising one hand to brush over his friend's stubbled jaw. “And, to answer your question, I’d love it if you kissed me.” 

They wasted no time, then. And damn, did it move fast. Sole was almost positive this had to be another dream, with the way time shifted and stood still, with the way the kiss melded them together, like either side of a magnet being hauled into one another by unseeable forces, they collided, and Sole got lost in it. 

Tom’s lips were deceptively soft, pillowy, as they set upon him, and Sole had enough enthusiasm for them both pouring into his actions, his hand sliding over Tom’s cheek while he tilted his head, deepening their kiss and parting his mouth to drag his tongue over the seam of Tom’s lip. 

The tinkerer groaned into him, and Sole felt a heat begin to pile deep in his belly. Next Sole knew, new hands were upon him, fingers running from his torso up to his chest, where they settled just beneath his shoulders. 

“Damn, man, you good at this.” Tom said to him as he pulled back with a delighted expression on his face. “Wanna keep going?” 

“Well, seeing as we’ve already gotten to third base in my head, I’d say it couldn’t hurt.” He chuckled out, feeling himself blush all the same, even as he tried to make light of it-- for his own sake or Tom’s, he didn’t quite know. 

Just been spending too much time with Deacon, probably. Always gotta lead or follow with a joke.

“Got to play a little catch up, huh? Sounds good to me.” Another smile lit up Tom’s charming features, and Sole couldn’t resist the call of him this time either. 

The kiss was even more fervent now, as the force of Tom’s hands encouraged them both backwards, until Sole's back was flush to the cold wall behind him. It sent a chill through his body, but quickly, that same, familiar heat returned as Tom’s hands began to stroke over his chest in soothing, undulating motions. His fingers dragged over the sensitive points of his nipples through his thin, cotton T-shirt, and Sole found his own hands moving– to reciprocate, to pull Tom closer, to make him feel good, like he had in his dreams.

One hand held firmly to the small of Tom’s back, hauling his body almost onto Sole's own, and stroking over the rear hem of his jeans eagerly. The other hand held its ground upon Tom’s face, mesmerized by the texture of his stubble, by the heat of his cheek, by the way he leaned his head further into the touch. 

A moan fell from Sole’s throat at Tom’s continuing movement over him, the way the pads of his thumbs paid direct mind to each of his nipples, rubbing there until the agent was thrusting his chest forward to meet the sensation with even more delicious force. 

Didn’t even know I was into this… 

But leave it to Tinker Tom to think outside the box I would’ve fitted myself into. 

Soon enough, Sole’s breath was leaving him in huffs, and the pair were having to pull back from one another just to drag air into their lungs, and in one of those moments, as Sole’s gaze darted to the floor for some unknown reason, he quickly found out why. His jeans-- and Tom’s-- wore matching bulges below their belts. Their movements, the heated kisses and fervent touches, the connection between them proving, apparently, to be too much for either of their bodies to handle in a respectful sort of way.

“We, ah, don’t gotta do more if you’re not into it, Fixer. I-I mean, if you’re not feelin’ it, or not ready, or just plain ole- wanna stop, you just say the word–”

“I don’t wanna stop.”

It was the firmest thing Sole had said all evening, the most certain he’d sounded since returning to HQ. 

With both hands, Sole reached out, cupping the meat of Tom’s ass confidently and hauling him forward until their bodies were flush together, damn-near cemented like the brick walls they were surrounded by on all sides.

“Ohh, o-k, eager beaver. You really don’t wanna stop, huh?” 

Sole shook his head, already moving to mouth at his partner’s neck as he held them tightly together with firm hands. Tom’s grasp moved to his shoulders, then, stroking over those too, the action both soothing and ardent all at once. 

“You-- ah, geeze and fuck, my friend, you got strong hands.” 

Tom was interrupted by his own reaction, and that fact had Sole smiling against him as his hands squeezed over Tom’s ass cheeks, as he ground his hips up and against him, and felt Tom’s own erection press into his lower stomach. 

“What I was gonna say…” 

Heat pulsed through him at the sound of Tom’s breathlessness, and Sole found himself encouraging him on with a growl; hungry for more sounds he could pull from his partner, more shaky breaths. 

“You, ah, you good to go all the way tonight?” 

That caused Sole to pull reluctantly away from where he’d been laying lovebites across Tom’s collarbone. 

“Y-you want– Well… You just…”

“You can say no, babe.” 

One of Tom’s roughened hands stroked over Sole’s flushed cheek reassuringly. 

“I just..." He started, before the truth of it left him in hushed tones. "I wanna make it clear that, well, you mean more to me than just a one-night thing, Tom.”

His partner smiled at that, and you could feel his smile invade his whole body, at the way his hand gripped harder over one shoulder. 

“You too, Fix.” 

Tom leaned in for a quick kiss to Sole’s lips, and that nearly set the ex-vault dweller off into a frenzy again, but he managed to hold himself back, needing them to finish this discussion before allowing himself to move forward. 

“And it won’t be. It’ll be like a… a multi-night thing, maybe. We could go and do some of those dates you were talking about, do some snuggling, work on fixing shit together, all of it, the whole deathclaw’s hand.” 

“That sounds nice, Tom… Really nice.” 

“Perfect, so that’s a…?”

“Oh, it’s a yes.” 

“Perfect, ah, just perfect. You know… we goin’ the whole way, well, we gon’ need some supplies. And have I got just the right mixture. Slippery-est lube I’ve ever come across. And I should know. I made it, so I had to sample a lot--”

“Okay, yes, I understand, Tom. Just... so long as there’s no battery acid.” Sole quipped as his heart began to race, as anticipation bubbled from his belly up and through the fingertips that were still resting upon his partner's skin.

“Nope.” Tom answered without hesitation, almost as if it’s what he'd been expecting Sole to ask. “And no hallucinogens. Though, if I can make an assumption here, you seemed not to mind those all that much.”  

[v4ult-dw3ll3r]

My sweet baby, Eric

He’s such a goof.

[m-1-8]

Pretty sure that’s ‘Paladin’ for "fuck off"

[tvarchive]

SEX AND THE CITY 1.01 • Pilot

[dailytvwomen]

KATE BECKETT in Castle — 4.06 Demons

[genderkoolaid]

ive seen people make the connection between anti-transfemininity and homophobia & how a lot of homophobia is inherently anti-transfem. & while i disagree with the idea that homophobia is like, anti-transfemininity Lite, its um. interesting to me that the people who will say that gay men are attacked because of their proximity to transfeminity don't say the same about lesbophobia and anti-transmasculinity. because a lot of lesbophobia is inherently anti-transmasc; a lot of lesbophobic violence is done under the assumption that lesbians "want to be men" or "think they are men" (and some do). that's clearly anti-transmasc. it's clearly about punishing perceived transmasculinity, regardless of whether the victim identifies or would have identified as transmasc/a trans man. and yet i've never seen anyone make this connection or point out how so much lesbophobia involves the punishing of perceived transmasculinity. hmmm i wonder why. anyways.

[hballegro]

re; this ad that i got

fr mulcahy starring as 'priest that is here to help his parish's school put on a field day because the teachers are overworked'

he ate shit on the blacktop and they only had 1 bandaid for him, poor bastard

last edition [bj]

cut placed [u should check it; bj is now part of the field day and also dwarfs mulcahy w/ his new shoes]

my only fucking update picture because i got in The Zone ig

my announcement to my friends that i was finished with it

and now

everyone gets sweatbands to show theyre on the same team now. i plan to do more but i cannot promise they will be coming quickly lol

i DO know that, if i add trapper, he will be wearing one of those muscle shirts with the armpits cut out. i was half asleep last night thinking abt this stuff and went 'he fucking Would'

im absolutely lost as to what hawkeye would wear. probably ill-fitting gym shorts and t shirt with flip-flops if we're all honest

lost as to henry as well. igaf if these people never met its field day motherfuckers i dont care about death its FIELD DAY we have a PARACHUTE TO SIT UNDER. probably the dad fit of a loose t with swim trunks ['they're shorts to me! i like the pattern!' and its just fish on em] and sandals with socks.

im spitballing. i dont wanna get ahead of myself because when i do that, i end up never doing it. but i DO have a cute 1950s romper that would work for either marg or klinger [it has sunflowers]

no one talk abt the fact i left to eat dinner and came back, only then realizing that mulcahy's feet were like ever so slightly too large. and no one talk abt me editing this just to change the image a tiny bit its fine